by Lilly Atlas
He’d been alone in the apartment a number of times since Fia moved in. Mostly when she was out with the ol’ ladies. This was different. There was a finality to the emptiness. He’d lived alone for almost fifteen years. Two months of rooming with Fia and the return to solitude was suffocating.
Emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to experience in eighteen years threatened to drown him. It was like being in a glass tank as it rapidly filled with water. He floated up with the rising water level, soon to hit the ceiling and be engulfed.
Was Emily right? Did he not trust himself? Not have faith that he could handle what came along with giving himself over to Fia?
Suddenly exhausted, he scrubbed his hands over her face and glanced at a clock on the wall. Christ, he’d been in this one spot for over an hour. Fia was probably halfway to the California by now.
He dragged himself off the couch and toward his room, stripping off his clothes as he walked. When he reached the bed, he pitched forward, face-first, eager to forget this shitty day.
The idea of leaving the day at the bottom of a bottle of Jack was even more appealing, but tomorrow he’d have to deal with the issue of his father, and the trouble at the border. A nasty hangover would make that unpleasant task even more so.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in a pillow. Emily’s words ran through his mind over and over. He fell asleep to visions of Fia walking out of his life.
Acer woke to the early morning light blazing through the window. Christ, it was bright. He must have forgotten to close the blinds. Vanilla wafted from his pillow and shot straight to his cock. He smiled. Fia loved it when he woke her at dawn, eager to start their day lost in each other.
He rolled over, anxious to sink into heated clasp of her body only to encounter cold, flat sheets where her body should be. The events of the previous evening smacked him hard, like he ran full on into an impenetrable brick wall.
He wanted her. He needed her. He had to go find her.
His phone blared from somewhere in the apartment. With a groan, he jogged toward the sound, finding the offensive noisemaker jangling against the counter. He peeked at the screen.
Lucky.
Why the hell was he calling at six on a Saturday? Better not be any fucking trouble at the border.
“What’s up, Luck?” As he spoke, he filled the coffee carafe with water.
“Hey man, what the fuck is your girl doing out at the Starlight motel? You know the one about forty-five minutes out of town on the way to California. She’s loading a suitcase into her trunk. You fuck that up?”
Acer’s heart rate kicked up. “You could say that. Listen bro, I’m leaving now, but can you follow her until I catch up?” She hadn’t left Arizona yet. If he pushed it, he could be there in half hour. What he’d say when he got there was a different problem entirely.
“Man, you owe me.”
“Thanks, see you soon. Wait!”
“Yeah?” Lucky asked around a yawn.
“What the fuck are you doing out there? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, man, just taking care of some personal shit. It’s all good.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
Lucky snorted. “Seems like you got enough to worry about. Move your ass.” He disconnected the call.
Coffee forgotten, he dashed back to his room, and threw on the first pair of jeans he encountered. Lucky’s problems would have to wait, but he made a mental note to press his brother later.
Exactly two minutes later, Acer roared off into the early morning light in search of his woman.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fia grunted as she hefted the heavy bag into the car. It seemed to have gained fifty pounds in the time she’d been in Arizona. She slammed the trunk and yawned wide, the crack of her jaw reverberating through the peaceful morning. She’d been far too upset and nervous to make the journey at night by herself, so she drove out of town and found a motel. A well-lit motel an entire town away from where she’d been abducted.
Sleep hadn’t been much of a reality last night. Anxiety at not only being alone, but alone in a motel once again, kept her awake and jittery until just a few hours ago. Still, she hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack and a little tiredness was a small price to pay for that victory.
She missed Acer until she felt the loss like a hole in her wounded heart. A huge part of her wanted to drive back to Crystal Rock, bang on his door, and beg to stay. But she didn’t. Living with a man who could never trust her, never love her would eventually eat away at her soul. She’d lived on her own for years—she could do it again.
Alone in the car, she cranked up a country station until the music was so loud it drowned out the thoughts in her head. “Good bye, Acer,” she whispered as she maneuvered her car out of the lot and onto the two-lane highway that would take her to California.
After thirty minutes of driving past nothing but sand and small rock formations, her head began to pound and she killed the music. She longed to close her eyes and rest her head back against the seat, but a devastating crash was the last thing she needed. With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders. It would have to do for now.
Any chance at relaxation flew out the window when the roar of an engine rose up behind her, way too loud to be a safe distance away. Her gaze flew to the rear-view mirror.
Jesus! A rusted-out, faded blue pickup barreled down the highway toward her at an alarming speed. She returned her attention to the barren road ahead, thankful to see no one was traveling toward her in the opposition lane. Mario Andretti could just go around her.
Another check of the mirror revealed he was edging perilously close to her rear bumper, still at a speed that far exceeded the highway’s limit. A niggle of unease worked its way up Fia’s spine until the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention.
“Chill out, girl,” she whispered. She flicked the signal switch, turning on her right blinker. She’d just pull onto the shoulder and allow him to pass. It was a narrow portion of the highway, with rock formations on either side of the road, but the thin shoulder lane was wide enough for her car.
She removed her foot from the gas and veered onto the shoulder, coasting to a slower speed to allow the pickup to pass.
She looked in the mirror and screamed as the grating screech of metal on metal assaulted her ears. With a violent lurch, her body was thrown against the seat belt. A giant boom, comparable to an explosion shook the BMW and she was slammed back into the leather seat. Sharp stinging pains lashed at her arms as the sound of shattering glass registered. Confused, she tried to blink the cobwebs out of her head.
Airbag. The noise and punch back had been the airbag deploying. She took a shuddering breath, wincing when her chest ached as though she’d been kicked by a horse. Damn, that seatbelt may have saved her life, but she was going to have one hell of a bruise.
She lifted her hands to her face and gingerly prodded around her nose and eyes. No blood, no apparent broken bones. So far, so good. With a groan of discomfort, she slapped the airbag down. Sharp slivers of broken glass scattered to the seat and floorboards. Careful not to slice her fingers, she unbuckled the seatbelt and yanked on the door handle. It stuck at first, but with a painful shove from her shoulder, it creaked open.
That pickup driver had been crazy…the pickup driver! Her head snapped up and her ribs smarted in protest. Was the driver okay? With slow, cautious movements, she stood from the car. Shards of glass flew in every direction and her entire body screamed in protest. Man, her chest hurt. Is this what a broken rib felt like?
What she needed to do was call the police and possibly an ambulance. Where the hell was her phone?
The phone could wait until she checked on the pickup driver. She took two wobbly steps toward the truck and frowned. The driver’s seat was empty and the windshield remained intact. He or she wasn’t thrown from the car. Where were they?
“You fucking bitch.”
Fia screamed and jumped, gasping as pain shot thro
ugh her chest. She whirled and screamed again. Mike loomed ten feet away, a gun pointed at her.
His hair stood on end and his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. A stream of blood ran from his nose, dripping to the rocky ground.
Fia’s vision wavered and pins and needles began to tingle in the tips of her fingers. The pain in her sternum morphed into a tightness that made breathing difficult.
Christ, she could not have a panic attack right now. It would leave her completely vulnerable to whatever Mike had planned. If she’d only stayed at Acer’s. She should have forced him to have it out with her, then made up. She could still be there now, wrapped in the warmth of his protective embrace.
The only time she felt completely safe was in his arms.
She inhaled, fresh oxygen filling her lungs and clearing her vision. Yes! Keep thinking about Acer. As though breathing in power, each breath cleared her head and infused her with the strength to survive. “How did you find me?”
He snickered. “I’ve been here all along, eyes on you, just waiting.” His face morphed into a mask of fury. “There are fucking bikers looking for me everywhere! They don’t even want their money back. There’s a fucking bounty on my head.” As he spoke, he moved closer until he stood just two feet away.
She stared at the gun, but thought of Acer’s smile, his care, his ink, the way he always kept an arm around her when there were too many men in the room. His invisible support buffered her and gave her the courage to stand up to Mike. “Just go. Leave the state. They won’t follow you. I’ll make sure of it.”
He laughed, the sound high pitched and crazy. Then his laughter died and his eyes darted around. “Shut the fuck up.” He kept the barrel of the gun trained on her. “I think someone’s coming.”
She heard it too. A rumble. Was it a motorcycle? She crossed her fingers and prayed for a savior. Even if the rider blew past them, she wouldn’t become a victim again. She would kill him if she could only get hold of that gun. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was getting his hands on her again.
~ ~ ~ ~
Acer owed him big time. After the night he had, all Lucky wanted was a hot shower and a vat of coffee. Instead, he was cruising through the desert at six thirty on a Saturday morning, on babysitting detail.
All right, he didn’t really mind helping his brother out with Fia. Christ, after witnessing her panic attack a little over a week ago, he felt almost as protective of her as Acer did. He was just exhausted.
It had been one shitty night.
“Oh, come on, asshole.” Lucky growled as a rust bucket made a right turn and rattled its way onto the highway about two hundred yards out, obscuring his view of Fia.
He drifted over the yellow line to get a better line of sight. Fia traveled along at the same speed, a bit ahead of the truck.
Lucky frowned. The truck closed the distance to Fia’s little BMW at an alarming pace. He increased his speed as Fia pulled off to the right shoulder. He blew out a breath. Smart girl, letting the fucker pass.
He eased off the throttle and—holy shit!
The truck slammed in to Fia’s sporty car, with a screech Lucky felt in his bones. He raced toward them, only to decrease his speed at a rate that would have sent a less skilled biker skidding across the road. A man stumbled out of the pickup, pistol in hand, and jogged toward Fia’s car.
Lucky pulled to the shoulder, about a hundred and fifty yards out from the collision. The only weapons on him were a knife and a disassembled rifle in his pack. It would have to do. He grabbed the pack and scrambled over the cover of the rocks, on his way to rescue Fia.
~ ~ ~ ~
Acer squinted. Nothing but road and desert lie ahead. Where the hell were they? He’d been on the road almost an hour soaring at more than twenty-five miles over the limit. He should reach them any second.
He narrowed his eyes again as the sun glinted off something metallic up ahead. Lucky’s fender. Relief and nerves coursed through him in equal measures. If he didn’t get his shit under control, he’d be stuttering like some high school kid meeting his crush for the first time.
As he neared Lucky’s bike a dark prickle of unease that had nothing to do with the fear of Fia’s rejection worked its way up his spine. Why the hell was Lucky’s bike parked on the side of the road? He glanced farther up the road. A beat up old pickup had crashed into a—
As though in a vacuum, the air was sucked out of Acer’s lungs and his heart seized in his chest.
Fia’s car. She could be injured. His stomach rolled and almost lost the contents, but he forced himself to move forward. If Fia was hurt, or worse, and he hadn’t had the chance to make things right—
He couldn’t finish the thought. She had to be okay, there simply wasn’t another option.
He zoomed past Lucky’s bike and skidded to a stop. He jumped off the bike as he laid it down, still traveling forward, in a move that would have impressed a professional stuntman. His feet hit the ground running and he threw his helmet somewhere in the road as he ran flat out toward the wreck. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet or stealthy. He barreled forward with no thoughts beside reaching Fia as fast as possible.
The morning sun was climbing in the sky, heating the day to an uncomfortable level already. Sweat poured off his face, and his heart pounded as though he’d run ten miles instead of fifty feet.
He drew up next to the crash and the second shock of the day slammed into him. Mike stood directly in front of a wide-eyed, trembling Fia. The fucker aimed a pistol at the woman who owned his soul.
White-hot rage heated his blood and tensed his muscles. Forget killing the man; death would be too easy for him. Acer would tear him apart piece by fucking piece until nothing existed, until he no longer had nightmares of finding Fia beaten and violated. “You just signed your death warrant, motherfucker.”
“Acer!” Fia’s exclamation was full of terror.
Mike grabbed her by the arm, whirling her around and locking her against his bony chest. He jammed the gun against her temple with such force, in a few seconds a trickle of blood ran down the side of her chalky face.
Acer stared at the dark red river, channeling all his murderous fury, controlling his actions. He was stronger, smarter, and far deadlier than Mike. The dead man walking just didn’t know it yet.
“You got a gun? Toss it down,” Mike ordered.
Acer hesitated a moment too long and Mike ground the gun against Fia’s temple. She whimpered then bit her lip, holding in any other sounds.
“Back the fuck off, asshole,” Acer said as he pulled his forty-five out of the shoulder holster beneath his cut and tossed it to the ground between him and Fia.
“I’m sorry.” Fia whispered on a choked sob. “I shouldn’t have left like that.”
Acer risked taking his attention off Mike for a beat to gaze into Fia’s frightened eyes. The combination of stark terror, and trust radiating from her gutted him like he’d been flayed with a knife. He forced himself to temper his reaction and winked at her. “You’re not the one who has to apologize, baby. Just tell me you’re coming home with me after we get rid of this shithead.”
Tears spilled down her face and she actually chuckled, the sound wrapping around his overworked heart. “I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Mike pressed the muzzle of the gun harder against Fia’s soft skin and she whimpered. Gasping sounds flew from her throat with each breath, and she shivered like it was twenty degrees instead of a hundred.
“Just keep looking at me, baby. Focus on me.”
Where the fuck was Lucky?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Fia focused on Acer’s face, contorted into a mask of anger she’d yet to see from him. The anger was well controlled, but no doubt would be lethal when unleashed. No fear or uncertainty was evident in his stance. Only pure, poisonous confidence.
Mike would die today. Of that, she became certain.
Maybe later, when the waters calmed, she’d feel gui
lt and shame for her thoughts, but for now, she wanted his death. She wanted to know she could live her life, maybe with Acer, without jumping at shadows and peeking over her shoulder every ten seconds. And part of her wanted Mike to know what true fear was.
Acer’s confidence bolstered her and her breathing leveled once again, or as best it could with a firm arm banded across her already tender chest. She kept her concentration on Acer as he’d ordered.
Anything she could do to help him, she’d do. She would not be a liability in this situation.
Acer rolled his shoulders and relaxed his stance, but she wasn’t fooled, the man was poised and ready to strike when necessary. “So what’s your plan here, Mike? You gonna shoot me, shove Fia in your shitty truck and ride off?”
Mike tensed. The gun scraped along her temple, taking a layer of skin with it. She tried not to react. Who knew what would set Mike off?
His high-pitched laugh vibrated against her back. The cackle reminded her of the Joker from Batman, not completely sane. “I like that plan. What the hell are you gonna do about it?”
Acer shrugged, his gaze flicking back and forth. What was he looking for?
“Guess there’s not much I can do about it.” A deadly expression crossed his face. “But my brothers?” He laughed. “Yeah, they’ll do something about it.”
“They want to kill me anyway. Might as well put some lead in your ass, get something out of this. Something besides pussy.” He loosened his hold on her enough run his hand down her chest and squeeze her breast, hard. Bile rose in her throat as horrific memories replayed in her mind.
Acer’s eyes darkened and his fists curled. Fia stared at him. If she kept him in the forefront of her mind, she could almost ignore Mike’s hand on her breast. Acer sent a small nod her way, as though he understood her intense focus.
The wind gusted and a small dust devil spun up behind Acer. It blew across the road so fast, there wasn’t time to react. Fia held her breath and closed her eyes as millions of tiny sand grains accosted her skin.
