by Mia Knight
“You’re a rock star?”
He grinned. “You could say that.”
“What’s your name?”
“John.”
There was a slight hesitation before he answered, which told her he was lying, but that wasn’t unusual. Most men who frequented clubs lied through their teeth, but she continued anyway.
“What’s your last name?”
Another pause and then, “Smith.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a shit-eating grin spread over his lips. He didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was amused by his bad improv.
“Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”
He gave a halfhearted shrug.
“Why the hell is Pocahontas on your mind in a gentlemen’s club?”
“I have no idea. I heard him call you Pyre. You’re related to Gavin?”
She tightened her grip on the gun. “Who wants to know?”
“I ran into him a few months ago. He left an impression.”
She tried to decipher what that meant. Friend? Enemy? She had no idea.
“Are you Angel Roman’s whore?”
“Excuse me?”
“He called you Angel’s fuck toy, which makes you his whore, right?” When her gun hand shifted he asked, “What else do you call a woman you fuck?”
She glared at him. “Lover, girlfriend, friend, wife.”
“Are you his wife?”
She bared her teeth. “Don’t push me, John.” Then she registered what he said. “You know Angel and Gavin?”
He didn’t look like he was from the underworld. He didn’t have the edge that Gavin and Angel had. He was huge, but he wore fucking nail polish and had the social awkwardness of a geeky weatherman.
“I ran into both of them. I was hoping they frequented a place like this,” John said.
“Angel has. Gavin doesn’t.”
John nodded. “Right. He’s committed now.”
She relaxed a little. “Yes.”
“I really enjoyed that,” he said and gestured to the blood and puke on the floor. “Very entertaining.”
Before she could come up with a response, a figure turned the corner. She relaxed when she saw Mickey. He had his gun out, and when he spotted John the behemoth, he raised it. John gave Mickey a friendly grin, which made him blink. John was definitely an odd one.
“That’s my cue,” she said and made sure she gave the giant a wide berth as she joined Mickey. “You have a great night, John.”
“I will. I enjoyed your fight,” he said and gave her a thumbs up.
She stared at him for a moment before she walked down the hallway with Mickey. She stopped in the bathroom to wash the blood off her hands, which were beginning to swell.
“What the hell happened?” Mickey hissed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“One of the girls was attacked by Wotherton’s son-in-law.”
Mickey cursed. “I saw them carry him out. I was hoping you had nothing to do with it.”
“I need to talk to Kiki.”
An hour later, she left Kiki with four security guards who had to stop her from hunting down the rapist. They’d taken away her weapons and extracted a promise from her to check on Baby Doll tomorrow. Fucking rich pricks thought women were fair game…
She embraced the slap of cold air as they walked out the back door of the club. It was almost three in the morning. She debated whether she should give Angel a heads-up. There was a possibility that he could side with the Wotherton’s and she couldn’t handle another disappointment tonight. If Marcus heard about this, he would she just how uncivilized she really was. She was barbaric, vengeful, savage—all the emotions he was too refined to feel. She clung to anger because it was easier to handle.
“Let’s get you home,” Mickey said as they weaved between the cars.
She glanced at him over the top of a BMW. “I’m driving to California.”
Baby Doll getting mouth raped was the final straw. She needed to get out of town and regroup. She needed sun, sand, and ocean.
“Come on, Carmen. I’m sure you can figure it out with Marcus.”
“I don’t want to figure it out with Marcus,” she retorted as she rounded a vintage Mustang. They had been forced to park in the last row, and the light wasn’t good. She could still hear the deafening beat emanating from the club. She should install some lights out here.
“Whatever happened, you guys can—”
There was an all-too-familiar popping sound. Mickey dropped even as someone grabbed her hair from behind and yanked viciously. Blade and her father’s training took over. She trapped the man’s hand on her head and tipped forward to break his hold and put him in an arm lock. She managed to dislocate his shoulder before someone bear hugged her from behind and lifted her into the air. She kicked off an SUV and launched them both backward. The man lost his breath as they crashed into a car. She broke his grip and rolled under a truck. Motorcycle boots jostled for position. Fuck. There were too many of them, and she had no weapon.
A man ducked to look under the truck. She threw a handful of gravel in his face before she rolled out the other side and ran toward the Red Diamond. A body slammed into her before she could reach the circle of red lights surrounding the club. Her ribs protested as she was crushed beneath a heavy body.
“Payback’s a bitch,” a man panted in her hair.
“No shit.”
He flipped her on her back. The punch knocked her head against the pavement. White stars flashed behind her eyes, and her ears began to ring. Through watery eyes, she recognized the man from the club who had been glaring at her.
“Roman’s not going to recognize you when we’re through with you,” he said and hit her again.
The cheap metal cross nestled between her breasts cut into her skin. When he drew back his fist again, she grasped the cross between her fingers and struck. A metal point sliced the fragile skin of his throat. He lurched back and made a choking sound. She slashed again and was rewarded with a gush of warm blood. She shoved him off and scrambled toward the lights, but she didn’t make it. A man barreled into her, and she tumbled across concrete. Before she could get her bearings, another man was on her. A boot in her abdomen made her retch before she was shoved on her back. A biker sat on her stomach and gripped her by the throat. The man choked her while another stomped on her wrist.
“Hurry up before somebody comes!”
She clawed and kicked, all to no avail. Through the panic, she felt a prick in her arm. Oh, God. A needle. What were they shooting her up with? It could be anything. Maybe it was Clorox or a lethal dose of…
Her cold, desperate, terrifying world disappeared. The hand disappeared from her throat, and she took a deep breath. Her heart soared as euphoria chased away every other emotion. She felt as if she was flying even though she could feel the unforgiving pavement beneath her. The behemoth sitting on top of her disappeared. The shadows that gathered around her didn’t matter. Nothing did because there was no pain, only happiness and freedom. One of the men with blurred faces pulled something out of his jacket. She grinned at him and spread her arms wide, ready to receive sweet relief.
“Now that’s a foul,” said a familiar voice. “Ten against one is just bad sportsmanship.”
There was a strange popping sound as her assailant’s head whipped to the side at a strange angle that made her giggle. There were shouts and a series of muted gunshots. From her position, she watched a pair of shiny gentleman’s shoes dance with biker and combat boots. It was a mesmerizing sight. Men began to hit the ground with stunning force, so much so that she felt as if the ground was rocking beneath her. Bodies lay in odd, almost poetic angles that her buzzing brain wanted to investigate more thoroughly. She heard grunts, wheezing, and screaming, which were quickly cut off. She was very aware of a rock digging into her spine, but she didn’t have the strength to shift an inch to the left.
The fancy shoes, now covered in blood, cam
e in her direction. The shoes were taking too long to reach her, so she stared up at the inky black sky as she waited. She wished she could fall into it. A man knelt beside her. She tried to focus on his face, which slid in and out of focus. Her body shook uncontrollably. Her pulse was racing out of control. She reached for him as her world pitched from side to side. Her body flushed with heat one moment and was chased by an icy cold that made her teeth chatter in the next.
John Smith’s face appeared for a second before her eyes dilated, and his face turned into a blob of color. Above him, the Aurora Borealis ripped across the sky. She opened her mouth to tell John to look, but she couldn’t get her tongue to work.
He said something, but she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. He lifted her. She flapped her arms, so she wouldn’t drown. She landed on something soft and slippery. Familiar scents she couldn’t place teased her nostrils. She heard a roar and whatever she was lying on shifted. She fell off the soft thing and landed on something hard that didn’t smell so nice. She flailed and tried to find something to hold, but her eyes wouldn’t focus, and her body wasn’t listening to her. After an eternity, she decided to give in and float.
Light invaded her dreamlike state. She raised her arm to shield sensitive eyes. Something pulled on her ankles. She kicked, but the hold on her didn’t disappear. She was dragged backward and then cradled in two bearlike arms. She reached up and brushed her fingers against a bristly vine. She tugged on the vine and heard someone chuckle. She blinked furiously and realized it was a beard.
Music assaulted her ears, and she moaned and burrowed against the bear. She began to shiver and moan as invisible knives were shoved into her skull. She struggled to get away to no avail. The man had been carrying her for days. Where were they going? She hoped he was taking her somewhere nice. Male voices rumbled around her along with the cheer of a massive crowd. Maybe it was the Super Bowl. Whoever had the hottest players should win. Why didn’t they make shirtless calendars for football players like they did for firemen?
An unpleasant smell reached her, a sterile one that made her curl her toes and clamp a hand over her face before she realized she was suffocating herself. She breathed in something metallic that made her want to gag. Lights disappeared, and she was placed on something hard and unforgiving. She tried to focus, but her head was spinning. What was happening to her?
“You have spirit and guts, which is rare enough to make me intervene.”
She turned her head toward the pleasant voice. She knew that voice, right? It belonged to a friend? She tried to remember and came up with an image of a unicorn prancing majestically across a moonlit beach. She panted as her body tried to fight off whatever was attacking her insides. Her limbs jerked as lava slid through her veins and started little fires in her brain. She curled into a ball and rocked. What was happening to her?
“I’ve heard of you. You killed the leader of the Black Vipers. I was intrigued but not terribly impressed since you used a gun, but tonight, you showed how resourceful you can be.”
When a hand brushed over her hair, she edged away. She couldn’t bear to be touched right now, not when her skin felt as if it would fall off her bones.
“If you survive, maybe your presence will bring Gavin back to Hell. Maybe Angel too if you really are his whore. It would be titillating to get them in the pit again. I’m trying to save my annual visit, so I have to find other ways to entertain myself until then. Tonight was a pleasant surprise. I hope you don’t die. I think you have potential, and you’re quite amusing to boot.”
She lurched forward and retched. Oh, God. She was going to die. Something was terribly wrong.
“I’ll check on you in the morning. Good luck.”
She retched again and opened her mouth to ask for help, but the man was gone.
26
Her body was trying to destroy itself. She tried to outrun the pain and rammed into a wall. She explored her surroundings with tingling fingertips since her eyes weren’t working. It took her several rounds to make out that she was in a room made of stone, an eight-foot square with a drain, stone bench, and bowl of water. She sipped water before she used the drain and then huddled in the corner. Her body was a throbbing mass. She could feel every single cut and bruise on her body. It felt as if someone was pouring acid on them. Her face vibrated as chemicals crept beneath her skin. She turned on her belly and pressed her face against stone. It smelled like a sewer, so she flipped onto her back and tried to keep her face still by squeezing it between her hands.
Time stood still. Her quick, ragged breaths filled the room. She wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or close, but it didn’t matter anyway. She shivered as cold seeped into her bones. Slivers of fire slipped through her veins, making her cry out and claw her own skin to get it out. The crusty cross dug into her skin, so she slipped it off and tossed it. She didn’t care about defending herself. Hopefully, someone would put her out of her misery. She was so fucking tired of fighting.
Time passed. She vomited, drank water, and vomited again. She tried to find a spot in the room that wasn’t soiled. She was chilled to the bone and in so much pain, she couldn’t stand it. She thought of slamming her head against the stone until she knocked herself unconscious, but she didn’t have the strength. She collapsed in a corner, pressed her forehead against the stone, and willed herself to die.
All feeling began to fade as her body went numb. She wasn’t sure if she was freezing to death or if the drugs were killing her. Either was fine with her. Now that her body wasn’t trying to destroy itself, her mind was surprisingly clear. Mickey. Was he dead? She whimpered. He couldn’t be. He was too young, and he was just doing his job. Obviously, the loser in the club was a member of the Black Vipers and called his cronies. They had been waiting for her. She was stupid to let down her guard. No one forgot a slight. It didn’t matter how much time passed. This was her just desserts. One couldn’t take a life without consequences. Well, she’d pay the price. It was worth it. She’d kill Maddog again with pleasure. Did she kill someone with a cross? If she had the capacity to feel, she would have been impressed with herself. Maybe Blade would have given her credit for that kill. Blade… He needed to get laid before he turned into a human statue.
All those times Lyla had been attacked, she’d convinced herself the outcome would be different if she’d been present. Well, she had her moment, and she had been beaten and drugged and was now locked in a cell in God knew where. And unlike Lyla, she didn’t have a Gavin to move heaven and earth to save her. She didn’t have anyone. Everyone would be fine without her. Mom had Marv, Lyla had Gavin, Honey had Beau, and Marcus had work.
Just when she thought she was getting her life together, everything fell apart. With death imminent, she could admit that Angel was right. She fell for Marcus. He broke through her shields the moment they met in Incognito, which is why his condolences made an impression on her. Her soul recognized something different about him; it just took her mind a while to catch up. His position as Vinny’s replacement was a good reason to keep him at a distance. She reinforced her prejudices by holding onto her suspicions about his motivations. There was no doubt that Marcus was still hiding something, but it held no threat to the Pyre clan, and he was entitled to his privacy. He was the one-in-a-million guy. He was driven, successful, considerate, loving… He just didn’t want to be in love with her. She’d heard it before. She was too wild, too impulsive, too clingy, too crazy. She needed too much, and after losing Vinny, her demands had a dark edge to it that most men wouldn’t want to deal with, especially one with a pristine reputation. She wasn’t lucky enough to snag two great men in one lifetime. She expected too much. She always had.
His promise the night Gavin and Lyla were in Hell echoed in her mind. No matter what happens, we’ll get through this together. Even though she felt no emotions, a tear slipped down her face. Marcus helped her through some of her worst moments. She thought she could depend on him, that they might have a fu
ture together, but it was all in her head.
You’re my fantasy.
She shook her head to dislodge his words. The way he lost himself in her meant nothing. It was just sex. She was new and interesting, and he had needs. Simple. An exchange of mutual pleasure, that’s all.
Her heart labored in her chest. She touched her face to make sure her eyes were closed and relaxed. It was time.
She sprawled on top of Vinny. They were naked in bed, post orgasm, with the gentle flow of air conditioning drifting over their sweaty bodies. She rested her face on his chest and listened to his heart gradually settle into a normal rhythm. She didn’t want or need anything else in life, just this. This man loved her, worshipped her. Everything would fall into place as long as they had each other.
“Why do you love me?” she whispered.
“What?” Vinny rumbled.
She folded her hands on his chest and eyed him. He looked wrecked and sated. “Why do you love me?”
He grinned. “Why wouldn’t I love you?”
“I’m serious.”
“I love you because you’re smoking hot.”
“Vinny,” she said in a warning voice.
“I love you because you’re the horniest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Vinny!”
“I love you because you make me want to sing a cappella in bed.”
He yelped when she bit his nipple.
“Okay, okay. I love your smile.”
“You’re talking about sex and my looks.”
“That’s the most important.”
She was about to yank his balls when his next words stopped her.
“I love you because you bring out the best in me. I love you because you know exactly who I am and remind me when I forget.” He stroked damp strands of hair back from her face. “You love with everything in you. I knew if I could hook you, you would never leave me. You’d be here by my side no matter what. Your love made me into the man I’m supposed to be.” He searched her eyes. “You get me?”
