Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1)

by Arlene Webb

  Water, words, fire—priceless acquisitions. Tequila infuriated and the f-word had spilled. What if someone lit a smoke? And now what? Astonishment filled every face and jaws hung open. Jaylynn turned to see Caream joining them. At least she had the shades on, but there was no disguising the raw sexuality radiating from her every moment.

  “Let’s go.” Caream grabbed Damon’s arm.

  Damon yanked loose. He wiped alcohol from his hand onto his jeans, his hostile attention on the approaching group.

  A younger man, tall and good looking, whistled. “What have we here?” He honed in on Caream. “God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “This harassment has to stop. I really will call the cops.” Jaylynn stepped forward, but that familiar electricity seized her. Damon flung her behind him against the car.

  One of the men laughed. “Lady, it’s a public parking lot. Red here doesn’t mind if we talk to the little carroty cutie, now does he?” His stunned eyes devoured Caream.

  “What’s your name?” The younger man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Join me for a drink?”

  “Go away. Last warning,” Damon snapped.

  The older woman burst out laughing. “You’re outnumbered, Red.” She tossed her bleached hair and glowered at Caream. “Scram, princess pumpkin. Halloween’s not until the fall.”

  Caream snorted, stepped forward and swung. Damon caught her arm, her fist less than an inch from the surprised woman’s face. He pushed Caream aside.

  “Hey, Red, touch her again, you’ll regret it,” yelled the closest man.

  Caream spun from the man’s reach. “Stop. He’ll rip your head off—or I will.”

  “Okay, sweet thing. But won’t you have a drink with us? What’s the harm in that? Then remove any part of me you want.”

  “A drink? And you’ll all go away?” Caream asked.

  The eager fool nodded and held out his flask. His eyes gleamed as she accepted.

  A dainty step back from the man, and Caream sniffed. Her curious grin sparkled. “This smells—maybe fun.” She poured the liquor into her mouth without spilling a drop. She tossed the empty flask back, and her smile looked like the man’s undoing.

  The two women gawked at Damon. He stared at the older woman’s chest. Couldn’t be silicone implants riveting him. It’d be the black butterfly tattoo over her left breast, and her scarlet lipstick. Damon turned his excitement on Jaylynn. “If I remove the pretty picture, will red be underneath?”

  His grin disappeared. The look on Jaylynn’s face must be a mix of, no, no, don’t rip her skin off, but stop the skank from lifting your shirt.

  “Whoa, Big Red, you’re electric.” The woman moaned. Her eyes squinted shut for a second, and her lips curled.

  Jesus, educated right here in the parking lot?

  Damon grasped the woman’s wrist and halted her downward stroke. “Are you stupid? I’m a man. What do you want under jeans that don’t unbuckle?” He scowled at the woman’s confusion, and turned to Jaylynn. “Everyone lies? They’re not thirsty. Drinking ruined water doesn’t make sense either.”

  No time to ponder Damon, jeans, and buckles. A man grinned at Jaylynn. “How’d you end up with these colorful freaks?”

  The guy’s move forward triggered Damon. He groaned. The woman mauling him cried out as she went flying to knock over a man forced to catch her. Damon’s flat hand hit the younger woman’s chest, dropping her where she stood. The kick to his thigh sent the man who never touched Jaylynn, six feet away, then down. The younger woman landed on broken glass. Blood dripped from her palm.

  Damon bounced in place. “Can’t I open her more?”

  Jaylynn’s lungs locked, and Damon’s delight disappeared. He lifted her, slapped her against the car, and his harsh whisper kissed her ear. “Stay behind me. I won’t kill. For you, I’ll leave skin unbroken.”

  Check, no bloodbath, only concussions and mangled bodies.

  The scorned female scrambled up. Rage filled her face, and she clutched a jagged piece of glass. “You the same color outside and in?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reality flowed in slow motion for Jaylynn. Her inquisitive protector, surely faster than any creature on this planet, showed patience for the first time. Damon allowed the woman to slash his arm. The bitch flinched and dropped the bloodied glass. Lit with his sharp grin, he smeared red fluid over his arm. “Such a pretty color.”

  The closest man snorted. “You’re nuts, man.” He smiled at Jaylynn and headed toward her. “Dump the weirdo.”

  Events kicked into high gear, proceeded too fast for her to do more than stand like an idiot with an open mouth. Lightning struck in the form of Damon’s boot. The sound of the bone snapping in the man’s arm rang out, a dull click. The guy fell while Damon grasped the woman and flung her into the crowd.

  “Let me…f-f-fix.” Caream stumbled against Damon, and pulled on his bleeding arm.

  “Get in the car.” Damon knocked Caream aside.

  The good-looking guy caught her. Caream snarled, struck his chest, and he landed in an immobile heap ten feet away.

  Long curls of fire loosened from his braid while Damon tapped jaws and heads. The older woman and more men hit pavement. The man with the broken arm cringed, and the biker who’d tried to control the slasher held his hands up.

  “He d-d-didn’t kill—” Caream’s attention jerked to the woman reaching under her pant leg and then straightening. One bleeding hand balanced against Damon’s chest, the woman clicked open a switchblade.

  Nooo. Curiosity, that arrogant attitude of invincibility would be Damon’s undoing. Caream stumbled for him as the words tore from Jaylynn’s throat. “Damon,”—the knife struck and twisted—“stop her.”

  “I don’t understand.” Damon raised his focus from the handle sticking out below his ribs, to the horrid slut in front of him. “You want me to touch, play with you, but this isn’t fun.” Damon pulled out the knife and tossed it, handle crushed, to Caream. He scowled at her, and she slumped back against the car.

  He turned. “Jaylynn—it hurts.”

  Of course it hurt. He wasn’t indestructible, and he relied on her guidance. Again, she’d failed him. “I need to get you help. Let them leave.”

  “Yes, I haven’t forgotten the ex’s computer. But this one wants to screw metal into others. That’d kill someone not me.”

  The woman drew a shuddering gulp and spun on her heel. Damon strode to block her, and she trembled in front of him. His low growl smoldered, “Have more hidden weapons?”

  A two second delay, and Damon struck. His tug at the woman’s waist ripped seams. She managed a whimper while he yanked her pants free, started to toss them and paused. Didn’t want to litter with more than spilled blood?

  Damon tore the woman’s top off. Her arms flew to cross her bare breasts, and her gasp brought a grunt from Damon. He jerked his fingers from her panties, draped the clothes on her shoulder, and stepped back. His grim expression softened as he took her in, and Jaylynn heaved a sigh of relief. No further weapons. Maybe this woman would live. That grin couldn’t be good though. Jesus. Why’d her underwear have to be red?

  Damon’s smile fled, replaced by a scowl. “Pretty little pants, but I don’t like you. Try to kill again, I’ll be the liar and remove your head.” He flicked his fingers for her to scram.

  The woman joined the man with the broken arm fleeing for the bar while Jaylynn hurried for the car.

  Rick stared at Damon. “Sorry, man, I’ll get an ambulance. You need a hospital. I can’t fuckin’ believe she did that.”

  Jaylynn cringed. That sound would be Damon’s boot cracking asphalt. She grabbed a dark shirt from her bag and listened to his growl. “No. Say bad words again, I’ll remove your tongue. No f-in. No hospital. No police.”

  Rick’s gaze filled with confusion, and Damon sighed. “You worry I need help?”

  “Yes! You’re gutted, and my friends—what if they’re dead?”

  “They
still breathe. If you need, call this ambulance.” Damon glanced at the vibrant fluid trickling over his hand clasped to his side. His gaze locked on the stunned man. “This is what I need. That woman can’t hear me. Tell her if she tries to screw anyone, I’ll find her. Let all her pretty color out.”

  Caream pushed herself off the car, while Jaylynn met the biker’s guilt-filled eyes. “Don’t be a fool. Run.”

  Rick gasped, “Sorry,” and bolted.

  Balanced on Damon’s arm, Caream leaned and clear liquid splattered by his boot.

  Disgust all over his face, he held her away from him. Tangerine tears slid down her thin cheeks as she straightened.

  The blood, fluid, whatever, trickled from Damon’s side into his jeans. No coppery scent, but fresh and sweet. Jaylynn folded the shirt against the gash and urged his hand over it. “Press hard.” She tugged Caream from him, “we have to get out of here,” and guided her to the passenger door. Caream stared at the bright red smeared on the blade. She forced mangled metal to close, shoved the knife into her pocket, and dropped onto the seat.

  Jaylynn closed Caream’s door and slammed the hood down. “Damon, get in back. Don’t argue, or I’ll make you go to the hospital.”

  “Try.” He grinned, impish, insane. “It’ll be fun.”

  Face streaked with tears, she stared at him.

  He lost his smile. “Drive faster than I can run, or let me…play with police almost here.” Another door handle demolished, and he curled into the back.

  Not only wouldn’t the driver door close, the cops were already on the way. She started the car and swallowed her relief as the engine rumbled. “Damon, keep the shirt over that. We have to get you medical help. Caream, make him listen.”

  Caream shuddered and bent to vomit another gush of vodka onto the car floor.

  Damon groaned. “Isn’t it out of you yet? Stinks. Awful.”

  The up gush smelled like uncontaminated, top-of-the-line liquor to Jaylynn. She’d be tempted to ask Caream to spit into a cup if their injured warrior would shut up. The worthless car wouldn’t go into gear. She tried for reverse, aware of the exasperated sigh behind her. Finally, she backed up and shifted. Jesus, goddamn, how stupid. She’d hit the gas not the clutch. The vehicle stalled, rolling while she turned the key. Don’t be flooded, don’t be flooded, don’t—

  “Why can’t I kill?” Damon grumbled. “Not fair. I don’t like that woman with hidden weapon, alive. I don’t like the liar, who followed quiet, alive.”

  At least her backseat maniac wanted permission to slaughter, instead of drive. “If you kill someone, they’d be gone. Forever. No chance to learn or evolve into someone better. Quite simply, it’s not right.” The liar’s piece of junk SUV refused to turn over and her anxiety soared. “You and Caream must run before the police get here. Please.”

  Damon didn’t sit in a puddle of confusion like the pathetic driver. He hopped out of the destroyed door with Jaylynn’s bag and purse crushed in his hand. The shirt compress fell to the pavement. He leaned to stop the rolling vehicle, strode to yank open Caream’s door, and snapped his fingers at Jaylynn. “Come.” He hefted Caream from the car.

  Only a dimwit would argue with someone whose hand left a large dent in the hood, and then pulled a door off its hinges like it were made of paper. Jaylynn ran to pick up the bloodied shirt.

  She lifted Damon’s shirt and shoved the other shirt into his waistband over the bleeding wound. She took Caream’s arm. “Can you run?”

  “Bike.” Caream gestured toward the bar. “Don’t…lul-leave me…s-sorry!”

  Before she’d finished her sentence, Damon rolled a large black Harley toward them.

  “Shh, it’s okay. Can you drive that thing?” Jaylynn asked Caream.

  “Yesss.”

  “Start it. I’ll drive.” Damon lifted Caream onto the bike.

  Caream lowered her fist and destroyed the ignition switch. “I can’t…you hold her.” As if her criminal career spanned decades instead of hours, she twisted wires, flipped the engine switch, and the bike roared to life.

  Sirens wailed, closing in. Damon leapt on the bike, and swung Jaylynn between him and Caream. Gears shifted and they weaved past unconscious bodies. Gunshots punctured the air, while Caream accelerated over the curb and onto the grass.

  Seconds later, in high gear, they tore through side streets. Damon held Jaylynn in a bubble of security, jarred only by his body shifting, agitated, behind her. His harsh grumble at Caream rose above the howl of the wind.

  “Liar. Even with ruined water making you sick, you can hold her. Stop. Before I show you, exactly, how I’m the boss of you.”

  Show Low far behind them, Caream slowed to swerve off the road into what looked like a deserted rest stop. What? Since when do you listen to him? She came to an abrupt halt.

  “I-I need to f-fix you.” Caream slipped off the bike.

  “When this one yelled at me in the Creep-car,” Damon swung Jaylynn to her feet, “I tried to knock myself out so I didn’t have to listen. The plan failed.” He leapt off the bike. “I’ll practice head smacking on you, Caaaream. Show me how to start the damn thing.”

  Caream lowered the kickstand and retched. She straightened, and wiped orange beads from her lip. “No. I’m sorry. Let me help.”

  A deep groan eased from Damon. “I think you’ll fail. It hurts different than my shoulder did. Breathe that ruined water on me—I’ll shake every drop out of you.”

  Caream stumbled around him. Her flat hand on his back, she pulled his shirt up.

  No, no, no. Jaylynn hadn’t heard or felt the bullet strike.

  “I don’t know how to make the holes close or get the bullets out.” Caream dropped his shirt. Weeping, she took Jaylynn’s bag and purse off his back.

  Jaylynn didn’t ask permission. She barely registered Damon’s pained grunt and lifted his shirt. Red fluid streaked his lower back, blending into his skin from the entry wound. She removed the bloody shirt compress, and found no exit wound in his stomach, only the jagged gash, still bleeding, where the knife had painted its path.

  “Stop touching me with your fear.” He yanked his shirt down. “Jaylynn, what am I doing wrong?”

  “Doing wrong?”

  “Why’d that woman want me dead? All men are stupid around Caream, but no psych unit—never. How many kill weapons are there, and where?” He tossed the sunglasses on the ground and rubbed his temple.

  He wanted to disarm everyone? God help me explain the second amendment, and Jesus, would we run into every asshole on this planet? The adrenalin rush and the race from one crisis to the next had left her numb. How she wished she could reassure him, alleviate his fear, and heal him physically and mentally.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Jaylynn tugged at Damon to sit on the curb. “Caream, see if there’s anything on that bike to stop this bleeding.” She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Don’t freak, but I could go to a hospital…” The tension in every muscle at the mere mention couldn’t be good for his injuries or the world in general. “Okay, okay. Just something to consider.”

  Caream opened the saddlebag, tossed a quart of tequila on the grass, and shuddered as she flung out a red and white first aid kit.

  Jaylynn ran. She gathered up a large roll of gauze, adhesive tape, and—faced eyebrows slanted at a killing angle, and a scowl that threatened to send her into cardiac arrest.

  Damon stood with arms crossed. “I won’t let you.” Then, in a flash, his sexy grin started her heart thumping again. “Wrap Caream’s mouth. Keep the ruined water from spilling out.”

  “Don’t be insane,” Jaylynn said. “This can’t harm you, it’ll bandage you.”

  He shook his head and stepped back.

  “No hospital and I can’t help you either?” Jaylynn threw her hands into the air before sinking to the curb. After one frustrated sob, she stood and shoved the gauze in her back pocket. “Explain why this harmless color bothers you so much, you’d rather die than wear
it.”

  “I don’t know. It just does. Almost as much as women crying.” The look in his eyes raged feral, along with his tongue. “It’d be too easy. Remove heads leaking good water. Throw them far into those ugly trees…”

  His rant continued while her mind whirled. Flirt? She’d never managed the hair flip, pouty lips, even the eyelash batter. Besides, if he fell over laughing he’d bleed out even faster. Aggression? He’d either kill her or respect her. At least her return scowl and her determined steps closing in shut his mouth and made his Adam’s apple bob.

  “I’m giving you no choice and yes, you will let me.” She reached to stroke the stubble on his chin, teased her hand along his cheekbone. “Close your eyes. Pretend you’re in our happy place.” She smoothed her fingertips over his eyelids. Vermillion, deep-red, he was curious. “I said, close those eyes.” She tugged his head down and brushed his chin with her lips. Do I dare? “Trust me,” she murmured.

  One tiny kiss on his tight mouth, and oh yes. That soft grunt, ease of his breath, he’d understood she crossed into dangerous territory. Her turn to swallow hard. She moved back and licked her burning lips.

  Cherries, cranberries, slice of watermelon, nothing compared to the pure taste sizzling inside her mouth. She eased her hand under his shirt and stroked upward as she lifted the shirt to tuck the corner under his armpit. Her lips brushing his neck closed his opening mouth, and her downward stomach caress jerked the air from him. Truly idiotic, thinking she’d control him like this. His education could spring to life any second. In a rest stop, with multiple injuries, a threesome before the cops showed.

  “Shh, no talking from you,” she murmured as she yanked the gauze out of her pocket. “Happy place, remember?” Jaylynn wrapped round and round his waist, covering gunshot and stab wounds. She smiled her surprise as Caream handed her the tape.

  Thankfully the thick compress, bright against Damon’s skin, stayed white and she gently lowered his shirt.

  His eyes flew open. Darkened light stared at her lips as he leaned. Anticipation competed with her fear, and there went her heart jolting to escape her chest. Damon stiffened and drew back, confusion clear on his expressive face.