by Anne Malcom
“It’s a shame,” he mused. “That we can’t use you. You’d be much more valuable than your junkie friend. But, we need to send a message to your husband’s little club….” he paused. “We are not to be fucked with. And they need to learn what happens when people try.” He nodded his head to the man holding me.
I struggled as he dragged me toward the stage. My efforts were laughable, my small body not even emitting enough strength to make a difference, regardless on the adrenaline pouring through my veins.
After he’d gotten me on stage, he pushed me roughly so my back met the cool steel of the pole. I stared down the barrel of a gun as he pointed it at my forehead.
“Move and die, your choice,” he uttered with a grin.
I stood silently, paralyzed with fear, unable to think of some clever way out of this. Unable to think of anything beyond the roaring in my ears, the heavy pressure on my chest. I felt like a frightened shaking rabbit in the headlights.
I stayed still while he tied me to the pole, Carlos watching on with his arms crossed. His gaze flickered around the room.
“It’s nothing personal, Lily,” he stated conversationally. “You’re just a bird really. One of two that I get to kill with one stone.” He glanced down at Lucky’s body. “Well, three technically.”
Anger blossomed in the pit of my stomach. “They’ll kill you,” I hissed. “Every one of you. They’ll end you for this,” I promised not recognizing my own voice.
Carlos seemed unperturbed at his perilous future. “I expect they’ll try, but I’ve got powerful partners. Partners that have a vested interest in my survival,” he informed me.
I flinched as the rope tightened painfully around my wrists. Something registered in my mind.
“The Tuckers,” I said, half to myself. Asher said they were powerful, Dylan had been ranting about making Bex his “whore.” I thought it was the rantings of an insane pig. So had Asher and Lucky, they’d made sure there was a message sent to not only him, but his family that Bex was off limits. They said they made an agreement. The same with Carlos. My eyes narrowed on the cane he was leaning on. The agreement, I guessed.
He regarded me. “Correct, Mrs. Breslin. I see it’s not true what they say about blondes, there’s some brains in that pretty head. It’s a shame they won’t be of use to you much longer.” He buttoned his jacket, gesturing to the men he was with. “Well, I wish I could stay and chat, but things to do, junkies to punish,” he informed me with an apology.
My throat closed up in fear for my best friend. “They’ll find you. Find her,” I croaked.
He grinned. “I sure hope so, I’m looking forward to the day that the Sons of Templar realize not everyone scuttles away into their corners when they throw their weight around. That old friends that they thought they’d extinguished are emerging from the ashes,” he replied with a glint in his eye. “Though I don’t expect that day will be today, they’ll be too busy scouring the ashes of their business for remains of their family,” he added, turning on his heel.
The vice around my chest tightened as his words sunk in, and with the smell of gasoline that wafted into my nostrils. I watched in horror while they poured it along the bar as they strutted out of the building. I struggled savagely with my bonds, not feeling the skin being ripped from my wrists at this motion. I had to get out. Survive.
The door closed and the flames surrounded me.
Asher glanced at his phone in irritation. Something chewed in the bottom of his gut. Something he hadn’t felt since the moment he slid the diamond on his wife’s finger. Dread.
“Why the long face, brother?” Brock asked, slapping him on the back and sitting beside him at the bar. “Married life not all it’s cracked up to be?” he teased.
“We both know that married life is all it’s cracked up to be, and more,” Asher replied, grinning slightly. He may be a sappy fuck, but he didn’t even care. Finally, he had his Lily, his flower. Forever. He knew why Brock, Cade, and even Bull let their women drag them around by their dicks. Why they looked at them like the sun rose with them. Because it did. Because their world was filled with all sorts of shit, of all sorts of darkness. Women that came in and brought the light were one in a million. For Asher, Lily was one in a lifetime.
Brock grinned back and clinked his bottle with his. “Amen to that brother,” he replied, glancing over at his own wife, who was laughing with Gwen and holding Kingston in her arms. “Just wish my woman would decide it’s time for me to put a baby in her. I’m ready for one of my own, maybe it’ll calm her down, make me stop worrying about what crazy shit she’s up to,” he mused, taking a pull of his beer.
Asher laughed. “I don’t think anything’s going to tamp down your woman’s crazy shit, if Gwen’s anything to go by….” he paused, grinning into his bottle. “What’s the problem? You got lazy swimmers?” he asked seriously.
Brock moved his soft gaze from his wife to him, the expression on his face turning into a scowl.
“My swimmers are far from lazy, motherfucker. My swimmers are excellent,” he growled.
His continued protests were silenced by Wire’s approach, both men silenced at the look on his face. Asher felt that dread intensify tenfold.
“We’ve got a problem,” Wire stated flatly when he got to them. Wire’s face was pale. Asher’s stomach clenched. Fucker was never rattled. He sucked down energy drinks like they were water, and therefore was constantly twitching, eyes darting around whenever he wasn’t surrounded by his computers. He wasn’t twitching. His form was still. Shit was bad.
“We need to get to the Diamond Lounge, now,” he demanded urgently.
Asher stood immediately, as did Brock, their beers rattling on the bar as they thrust them down.
“Shit’s gone down. Fuck. They shot Lucky. Set the place on fire,” he told them quickly. “The cameras have been down and I didn’t think much of it. I’ve only just got them back on.”
Asher stepped forward, shaking him by the shoulders. “Lily’s in there,” he barked. “Is she okay?”
Wire’s expression turned his body to ice and fear clog his throat.
I coughed at the smoke invading my nostrils, my lungs, every part of me. My chest wheezed in response to the fumes strangling me. I ignored this. My bonds were loosening, I could feel the warm trickle of blood trailing down my fingers as my skin ripped away with the force I was rubbing it against the rough rope. I didn’t feel the pain that should have come with this.
“You can do this,” I gritted out, choking on the gathering smoke.
I could feel the heat of the approaching flames that were engulfing the building. I’d never felt anything so intense in my life. It felt like my body would burst into flames at any moment. My eyes zeroed in on Lucky’s body, on the fire dancing around it. They moved to the small opening at the entrance to the building. Smoke distorted my vision, but I hoped that opening stayed like that. It had to. Otherwise, I’d have no chance.
I wasn’t surrendering to the growing feeling I was going to die. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Asher’s face filled my vision for a moment. His sharp jaw, his deep chocolate eyes.
I coughed again and my eyes focused back on the flames. A sharp twang of pain radiated up my arm as I got my wrist free. I yanked the other free and fell forward, painfully landing on my knees and wrists. I ignored the pain and scrambled around to unfasten the rope at my ankles. The heat was more intense now, the smoke made it nearly impossible to see, to breathe. I knew I would pass out from smoke inhalation before the flames charred my body, especially with my already weakened lungs. My shaking and bleeding hands ripped off my cardigan and fastened it on top of my mouth. It wouldn’t do much, delay my death from suffocation for a few moments, minutes if I was lucky. I scrambled up as my legs were released and stumbled off the stage to where Lucky’s body lay.
I wouldn’t let him be turned to ashes. I wouldn’t leave him.
My hands hooked under his armpits, and I wrenched with all of my strength to
drag him toward the opening. It looked miles away, especially with the flames moving closer at terrifying speed. I felt like the skin was melting off my body. My arms screamed, and my lungs felt useless as I coughed into the fabric at my mouth. I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to make it. I wasn’t strong enough.
“You can do this, peanut,” my mom’s voice whispered in my ear. “You’re so much stronger than you know. I’m not ready to see you again, not yet. You can do this, baby.”
With every inch of my body telling me I wasn’t going to do this, my mind reassured me I could. It urged me forward, renewed my strength to drag Lucky. Gave me the ability to suck what little air remained, just enough for me to chase away the black spots dancing at my vision.
My body sagged against the door and I let Lucky’s body go, supporting him with one hand while the other fastened on the doorknob. I gritted my teeth at the blinding pain that erupted in my palm as the piping hot steel singed my skin. I ignored this and turned the handle, praying for it to open. I fell onto the ground as the door moved and cool air rushed at me. I sucked in the air greedily, choking on the cleanness of it as my polluted lungs struggled to expel the poison clogging them.
I hooked my hands under Lucky’s body once more, using the last of my strength, of my breath to drag us onto the concrete, a safe distance from the flames. I collapsed against the asphalt as my body struggled to get a proper breath. My chest wheezed, and the invisible hand fastened around my throat.
I heard a roar. I didn’t take much notice of it, thinking it was in my own ears, my body’s response to dwindling oxygen. I didn’t think it might be Harley pipes.
“Lily,” a voice bellowed.
I blinked and moved my eyes up. A blurry figure sprinted toward me.
“Fuck, fuck!” Asher’s beautiful voice cursed as arms gathered around me pulling me further from the flames.
“Someone check his pulse,” he barked, and I felt Lucky’s body slide away from me. I tried to crane my head to watch, to hope beyond hope that they’d find one. That my eyes had deceived me when I’d seen them kill him.
Asher’s hand stopped my head’s motion. “Lily, look at me,” he demanded urgently.
My lazy eyes moved to his, and my chest rose and fell frantically, a terrible sound erupting from it. The sound of my lungs giving out.
“Go to my saddlebags and get the inhaler out from there, now,” he barked over his shoulder. His desperate gaze moves back to me. “Baby,” he whispered. I watched a tear stream down his cheek.
I wanted to speak. To tell him how happy I was to have two months as his wife. How I wanted my lifetime, but two months was beautiful. How he helped me to breathe easy.
“I love you,” I choked out, spluttering.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t fuckin’ say goodbye. You’re not going anywhere, babe. You’re not leaving me,” he demanded.
A figure returned, and Asher reached up to snatch what an outstretched hand gave him. He expertly attached my nebulizer and held it to my mouth.
“Breathe,” he ordered. He pleaded.
I didn’t move my eyes from his as I tried in vain to catch my breath. I continued to watch those tortured eyes as the spots on my vision got bigger. I let them warm me up as those spots took over entirely. Then there was nothing.
He couldn’t move. It felt like his body was frozen. He feared if he did move he’d overturn every table in this fucking waiting room, smash the glass encasing him in it, separating him from his wife. So he didn’t move. He stayed with his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He couldn’t get it out of his head. The image of Lily dragging his brother out of a burning building.
Of her small form sucking at the air desperately, at that horrible sound coming from her chest. Of the burnt mess on her palm, the bloodstained wrists. She had fought. His flower had fought against the flames.
It wasn’t that that haunted him. No. It was the look on her soot-stained face as she rested in his arms. It wasn’t panicked like the faces of many men he’d seen facing death. It was calm. Peaceful. She accepted her fate. Her beautiful eyes said goodbye to him, and she faced death with a bravery he didn’t even know he’d have when the reaper came for him. Then there was nothing. Then he lost her. Her body turned limp in his arms, and he had placed his palm over her chest. Like he had many times when he watched her struggle. When she was asleep and he lay there, silent and sentinel, waiting for her body to betray her. Unlike those times, his hand didn’t move with the rise and fall of her chest. His hand didn’t move at all. His hands tightened on his head.
He felt someone enter the room. They stood in front of him. “Any news?” the voice asked.
Asher didn’t look up. Didn’t move. “No,” he clipped, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.
He felt the air move as the figure sat beside him. A hand rested on his shoulder.
“She’s going to make it through, brother. She’s strong,” Cade told him firmly.
“Yeah, she’s strong,” Asher agreed. Strength didn’t guarantee survival. Today was a grim reminder of that. “Lucky?” he asked with resignation. His brother had taken two to the chest, inhaled major amounts of smoke. The paramedics were performing CPR the moment they had arrived on the scene. Like they did with Lily.
“Still in surgery,” Cade replied tersely.
At this, Asher looked to his president’s tight face. “He’s alive?” he asked with disbelief.
Cade nodded. “For now.”
Some part of Asher that had been coiled tight relaxed a smidgeon. Enough that the vice around his chest made him feel like he could breathe, barely.
“Got the women at the club on lockdown, till we figure out who the fuck this is,” he continued, his voice hard.
Asher nodded, unable to usher up the required fury for those responsible. It would come. He’d rip the fingernails off every single person connected to this. For now, his energy was focused on his wife. On hope. That his beautiful woman would make it out of this.
“Whoever it is, they’ve got big balls,” Cade bit out. “I’m going to fuckin’ relish cutting them off.”
“You got word on Bex?” Asher asked. Things weren’t looking good for her, considering no one could get a lock on her, and it was her phone that lured Lily to the strip club in the first place.
“We’ve got Wire on it,” Cade answered after a moment.
Both of their heads snapped up as a tired looking doctor entered the room.
“Which one of you is Mrs. Breslin’s husband?” he asked, glancing at a chart.
Asher pushed out of his chair with such force it rattled to the ground.
He advanced on the doctor. “I am,” he clipped. He couldn’t say anything else.
“Your wife is breathing on her own now, Mr. Breslin,” the doctor told him.
Asher’s entire body sagged. “I need to see her,” he demanded immediately, cutting off whatever else the doctor had to say. That could wait. He needed to see with his own eyes. Needed to touch her. Or else those thoughts of her still chest would rip him apart.
“She’s sedated and suffering from significant burns to her hand,” the doctor tried to explain again.
Fury had its space to grow with the knowledge that Lily was okay, fury that he’d tamped down for the time being.
“I need to see her, now,” he repeated. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
The man must have seen this on his face because he didn’t say anything else, merely nodded.
“Follow me.”
Asher sank into a chair beside the bed holding Lily’s small form. His hand immediately darted out to cover her small chest and breathed easy for the first time in hours at the movement of his hand.
He grasped her small hand, it disappeared in his large one. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it lightly.
“I’m here, baby,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
Three Weeks Later
One week. Th
at’s how long I was in the hospital for. My lungs had sustained significant damage from smoke inhalation, and my hand was severely burned, the pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced. The skin was light pink now it was healing. It would scar, not that Asher would let me live with the physical reminder. We’d be seeing a plastic surgeon as soon as it was properly healed. I didn’t care about the pain on the outside. It was the stuff on the inside that couldn’t be repaired by a plastic surgeon. Not even my husband’s gentle touch or his strong arms that encircled me every moment he wasn’t out hunting for them. The people that did this. That shot Lucky. That almost killed me. That still had Bex.
I braced myself on the kitchen counter. Pressure built on my chest once more. I had an overwhelming urge to sink to the ground, to hug my knees to my chest and surrender to the weight that was pushing me down.
The moment I thought my strength would waver, that I would collapse, strong arms encircled me and the weight lightened a fraction.
“Flower?” Asher murmured in my ear.
I sank back into his body, closing my eyes a second. Asher’s hand moved over to my chest, as it did often in the past three weeks. He left it there and we stood in silence for a moment.
“Lucky’s out today?” I said finally, turning into Asher’s arms.
His worried gaze roved my face. He nodded. “Yeah, he’s discharging himself. Against doctor’s orders,” he responded with a frown.
I touched the stubble on his chin. Moved to the heavy bags under his chocolate eyes. He wasn’t sleeping well, I knew. The entire club was on alert after the events three weeks ago. Everyone was thirsty for vengeance, Asher more so than most. It killed men like Asher when they were unable to exert that vengeance. When they felt vulnerable. When Asher couldn’t be around me, I had an escort wherever I went. Not that I was going many places these days, apart from college and home. It was a struggle even to drag myself out of bed every day Bex wasn’t found. But I did.
