Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  His big hands cupped her face. “That’s my silly firewalker. The bleeding though, that will kill you. Now. Get up!”

  With an effort, she pulled herself from the gray. All her senses crushed her as they returned. The agony of her torn arms made her stomach lurch. Somewhere in the distance an ambulance siren wailed. Putting her hands under her, she pushed upward, relieved to feel her body respond. She half crawled, half pulled herself forward until she reached a tree.

  Blood ran down her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the trunk and struggled to find her footing. Her breath burned through her lungs but somehow she managed to stand.

  “Frankie!” The voice called through the buzzing ache in her head. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, the world around her still distorted by smoke. She felt caught in between the gray and the real world.

  Hands grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away from the tree. She struggled until her cheek fell against a leather scented chest that muffled the acrid scent.

  “Easy, girl. I’ve got you.”

  Voices, familiar and disembodied, floated around her as she felt herself lifted. A wiry beard tickled her arm and shoulder as she looped arms around a bear-like neck.

  Sebastian.

  Chapter 28

  Love Hurts!

  Dave Yarrow thought he was having a heart attack.

  His whole chest hurt. His heart hammered in his ribs and up his throat. A soft, trembling form nestled against his side, black curls silken against his neck. Her wild green eyes spilled tears as she clung to him. A trail of blood ran from her hairline down her lovely face.

  His heart beat harder when he looked at her.

  Thump-de-thump. Thump-de-thump

  Protect the girl. Protect. The. Girl!

  A need to get her safe blinded him.

  “Wait,” she croaked, “Frankie—”

  “Is right behind us. She can take care of herself.”

  “No, but—”

  Dave’s heart slammed harder, the protective impulse spurring him. “I’ve got you. Let me get you out of trouble first. Okay?” He made it several steps before he heard the voice calling for him to stop. The hairs on his neck prickled.

  “Put the girl down, buddy! What the fuck do you think you—” The guy was an ugly biker with a lazy eye. Dave didn’t think, he just hit the big thug in the teeth.

  “Dave!” Vanessa cried. “Don’t. They are just trying to help. Put me down. Put me down. My God!”

  Someone else touched his arm and Dave whirled and swung. His fist connected with the person who tried to hinder him. He had to get her out of there before something else happened.

  Vanessa struggled harder. She was stronger than her delicate beauty suggested. He set her down to avoid dropping her, tucking her behind him as he faced the group of bikers.

  What the hell was he doing? Why was he blinded by a need to protect this beautiful stranger? The second guy fell hard and stayed down while the ugly partner pulled himself to his feet, eyes flashing. A group had swarmed in around them. He could feel the grip of the woman against his arm, but he wasn’t letting her get in front of him. He would protect her from the gathered thugs or die trying.

  “David Yarrow,” a familiar voice snarled out of the crowd. The man who had fucked up his whole life.

  Mr. California.

  He was not what Dave expected. The small, blond man in leathers prowled forward.

  Every instinct told him to make his escape but the other urge, more powerful and grounding, roared at him to stay and fight. Fight until they didn’t move. Fight until the woman was safe.

  What the hell?

  He sized up the little guy with his dusty jacket, looking cool and composed despite the blazing heat. The expression as he sneered out Dave’s name was horrifying. The man’s lips peeled back from clenched teeth, murder in his silver eyes.

  “I have been waiting a long time. Princess, you best close your eyes, honey.” Mr. California didn’t bring up his hands as he came in close, death gleaming in his gaze.

  “Oh, please, you little shrimp,” Dave drawled. He could take him.

  * * * *

  Dave Yarrow blinked up from the ground, mouth full of blood and head ringing.

  He expected to see tweetie birds circling his head as he tried to suck in a breath around the boot crushing his windpipe. The little man crouched over him with the weight of his body pressed into the steel toe of his boot digging into Dave’s throat.

  Silver eyes burned down into Dave’s without passion. “That—was for Chaze. This, is for not teaching my cousin to keep her fucking hands up.” He grabbed the front of Dave’s shirt and lifted him slightly before slamming his fist into Dave’s face again.

  “Mano!” One of the thugs leaped forward as Dave’s head bounced off the pavement with a clap of pain and fire.

  “Where. Is. Mouse?” he asked, giving a yank at Dave’s shirt front with each word, snarling it out behind his teeth.

  Dave turned his head and spat blood, coughing. He felt a tooth tumbling around in his mouth, knocked free by the biker’s effective punch. The world spun in a dizzy circle of pain and horror. The instinct to protect the girl was even worse now that he was flat on his back. He got another shake and a slap across the face with the open palm.

  “Who the fuck is Mouse?” Dave sputtered. The little biker pressed the boot in deeper and Dave cried out around the torment. Light and dark pinwheeled in his vision.

  “Big girl. Orange-crush curls. Built like a linebacker. Broken fucking nose, you godless swine.”

  Dave thought he was going to get drilled in the face again but the asshole just pressed the foot in harder, grinding like he wanted to smear Dave into the street. The little shit was strong as hell.

  “Mambo,” Vanessa screamed and fell beside Dave “Stop it. Stop! He can’t breathe!”

  The pressure eased slightly, “Frankie! Where. Is. She?” Mambo roared down at them. The rage licked over Dave, burned him like fire, and he groaned, shuddering.

  What the fuck was that?

  He sucked in a breath. Sweet, precious air gusted back into his pained lungs and he panted. “Right…behind me…was…right…”

  Dave saw hate in those silver eyes. Mr. California was going to kill him.

  “You left her.” The words were so quiet and his hands flexed like horrible claws as he bowed in closer.

  But before he could complete the act of murder so evident on his features the other bikers jumped in to stop him. Three huge men struggled to hold back the man, and then a giant came out of the crowd. He was enormous and bearded, like a massive bear. Even he had a hard time restraining the little man and Dave felt his stomach go weak.

  Vanessa fearlessly put herself between him and the furious Mambo. “Don’t. Stop it. Stop it right now. Don’t you dare. Sebastian. Sebastian! Frankie— She’s back there,” Vanessa cried, using herself as a shield.

  The pavement rocked with a shudder and there was a huge boom back from the direction he’d taken Vanessa. The movement and sound distracted Mambo who had almost torn free of Sebastian’s hold. The air crackled with ozone and smoke on the hot wind that blew across them.

  “Fuck.” Mambo turned to look in that direction. He glanced at Vanessa, “Princess, you’re lucky.” Back to Dave he spat, “And you… You piece of shit… We’re going to talk about this. At length. Later. If anything has happened to her, I’m going to make boots out of your worthless hide.”

  Vanessa snarled and it made Mambo’s eyebrow lift. He shrugged. “His life is forfeit, Princess.” He gave her a look of pity boarding on disgust, nose crinkled before Sebastian drew him away. “Go. Find her. Fuck sake…” He broke into a jog, heading in that direction.

  Chaze, the ugly biker stayed behind. His features had not improved from the punch.

  “I’m fine. Just go. Just go,” Vanessa said and waved at him before turning to Dave.

  “Vanessa—you cannot be serious. This guy? This fucking guy?” Lazy-eye shouted at her
in disbelief.

  “Yes, Chaze,” Vanessa said without fear, facing down the enormous man. Her voice was a soft sigh and Dave felt a strange, fluttery warmth fill the center of his chest.

  Chaze shook his head and glowered at Dave. “Might be an awfully short affair,” he drawled.

  “Then go and help them with Frankie. I’ll be right here.” Her words were strong and fearless. She turned back to Dave, disregarding the man.

  Chaze drew his finger across his scarred throat. Dave could almost hear the words ‘Your days are numbered, bub.’

  Great.

  Then the softest hands pressed against his aching jaw. They were warm and so careful. “Aw, poor guy,” she whispered, brows knitting over those impossible wild green eyes.

  He’d had a dream of those eyes. Wait…those eyes? Not the eyes from that picture…wait…

  She smiled and caught her lower lip in her teeth, dimpling so cutely at him. Even with blood and soot covering her face, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Think you can stand?”

  “I was supposed to protect…you,” he said, his crushed throat rasping out the words. Her fingers pressed against his lips to silence him.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got you now. I won’t let the bad bikers do anything to you. You’re safe,” she said, earnestly. And he had to laugh. She was going to protect him? “I was afraid you’d be lost out there forever. I’m so happy you are here.”

  He let his eyes close a moment, enjoying the feel of her hand on his scalp and against his lips where her finger remained to maintain his silence. She smelled like spun sugar. Her scent made a soft, pleased growl surface from somewhere very deep inside. His heart hurt, his whole insides churned up and his head throbbed from being slammed and punched. What was going on in this town?

  “We need to go help Frankie,” she said, caressing his face, particularly over the sore spots. “I don’t know if I can save you if something happens to her. I’m good but I’ve got limits. I’d rather not see you made into boots.” She drew away from him and took his hand in hers, her grip was stronger than he’d expected and she confidently coaxed him to stand.

  He managed to get his legs under him and found that a few of the other bikers had returned with cloth and water. As Dave got to his feet they hesitated, but reluctantly came forward. He thought they’d check on him, but no. They attended to Vanessa. She got the water and the clean cloth. They disregarded him completely.

  Vanessa took one of the bottles of water and handed it to him and then poured another on the cloth she had and began to wipe his face, standing on tiptoes with a big smile on her gorgeous face. “You really are lucky,” she decided. “Looks like he didn’t break anything.”

  “Knocked out a fucking tooth,” he grumbled.

  “Poor pumpkin-head,” she whispered.

  He started to protest but…his heart was too busy drumming along as she carefully dabbed at his split lip. Instead, he let out a soft breath and sighed at her. He would have gotten lost in her sweet expression except the smell of smoke was growing stronger.

  Now that his instinct to protect the woman wasn’t driving him out of his senses, the fear for Frankie came back. He covered her hand with his. “Who was that in the car?”

  “Oliver. He worked for Frankie and Amy. He was the office manager.” She curled her fingers through his as though it were the most comfortable thing in the world.

  Since when did he let a girl just twine fingers with him?

  Apparently, since this girl came into his life.

  She inserted herself against him, pressing her warm body to his and instinctively he wrapped her in his arms, wanting to make her stop shaking.

  “It’ll be okay, Vanessa.” He tried out the name and she pressed her head against his chest. Carefully, he squeezed her closer and breathed in the perfection of her.

  “Whoa…” The ground shifted again, as it had when the boom rocked through the street. Or maybe he imagined it.

  “Whoa,” She tightened her elegant fingers into his shirt. “That sounded pretty bad,” she said, not opening her eyes.

  He had nothing to respond to that. Luckily, he was saved by the sound of people coming. Voices lifted and the smell of fire grew stronger. Vanessa looked up and she squeaked. “Frankieee!” Pulling out of Dave’s grip, she hobbled toward the redhead.

  Frankie Welton had been through a transformation. She looked the same, strong and big with her slightly crooked, hawkish nose and silver-green eyes hard, and yet this was not the Frankie he knew. Her long, red curls were sooty and crisped at the edges, her face a mask of ash and blood and she looked glorious. Limping and leaning against Sebastian, there was such a crackling radiance around her that Dave found it almost painful to look directly at. “Wow.”

  He tried to stop Vanessa from rushing in, but the woman couldn’t be stopped. She flung herself recklessly at the Frankie with a scream of happy relief.

  “Easy,” Mambo snapped a warning, looking almost delicate beside both Sebastian and Frankie.

  “It’s okay. Where’s Christopher?” When Frankie spoke, it sounded like fractured crystal. Sharp and piercing. She looked at people and they shrank from her gaze. Those eyes were overflowing with radiant sunlight.

  “Careful, mouse,” Mambo murmured. “Deep breaths. We’ll find him. Let’s not have a meltdown. Princess? Where’s Ponyboy?”

  “You’re a jerk,” Vanessa huffed and pushed Mambo away with a shove and tucked herself into Frankie’s other side to help Sebastian.

  “Where. Is…Christopher?” Frankie demanded and the words burned like fire.

  “At the Hideout,” Vanessa murmured and reached up to touch Frankie’s bloody face. “He’s fine.”

  That seemed to take some of the rage out of Frankie, who sagged between the supporters.

  “Anthony and Barbara?” she asked.

  Dave had never seen Frankie like this. He’d seen her confident and cocksure but there’d always been something in her holding her back. There was none of that now. Even battered, she was…magnificent. Terrifying. Wonderful.

  “I’ll go check up at the ‘Loom,” Mambo said and snapped his fingers, pointing at a couple of the bikers before they moved down the street.

  “Fire and police are going to be here soon,” Frankie said, frowning. When Sebastian handed her water, she winced in pain and Dave saw the condition of her arms. They were torn to ribbons and blackened by what must have been fire.

  “Oh, shit. Frankie. You need to sit down and—”

  It felt like someone slammed him in the stomach when her gaze latched on to him. He grunted and doubled over with a shocked wheeze as the breath was pushed out of him. Something hot consumed all the air around him so he couldn’t breathe.

  “You just shut your hole,” she whispered.

  “Frankie!” Vanessa gasped and Frankie blinked at the other woman in disbelief. They held gazes a moment before Frankie’s snarling rage broke into an unexpected and absolutely delighted laugh.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She lifted one of her horribly wounded arms and lay her fingers on Vanessa’s cheek. “Sorry, sis.”

  The moment the look tore from him, that fire left his lungs and he sputtered and coughed a few times to regain his composure. “What the fuck?”

  “You can still shut your hole, Dave,” Frankie said firmly. “What happened to his fucking face?”

  “Mambo,” Vanessa sighed.

  “Mmm. Good. You sure about him, Vanny?” Frankie sounded wary.

  “Mmhm,” Vanessa said and settled her head into Frankie’s shoulder, cuddling close. “I keep him, okay?”

  “I don’t think he’s potty-trained.” Frankie glared at Dave but without the same ferocity. She took a long drink of water before warning Vanessa, “He might hump your leg, too.”

  “Frankie.” Vanessa giggled and hid her face into the smoky hair.

  That was so strange. What had they done to Frankie?

  She was all touchy-feely and next-l
evel bad-ass?

  “What the—” He wasn’t even sure what questions to ask. He was reeling with it all.

  “Go help him,” Frankie said to Vanessa, kissing her cheek. “Try to keep up, tiger.” She leaned her full weight on Sebastian. “Christopher. I need him,” she said, less frantic, but no less stern.

  Vanessa tucked herself back under Dave arm. The perfect, playful smile soothed the horrible places in him. Her delicate, strength helped to support him. Oh, God, but she was so young.

  Much too young. He felt like a dirty old man. Despite all that, he wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s just…get through this,” he said aloud, but also to himself. No need to go rushing into anything. Get the girl safe and afterward he could sort all this out.

  “Frankie!” A new voice boomed down the street and a man came running toward them. It was the douchebag from the pictures, except rather than a cheerful grin, his expression was stricken. He only saw Frankie, ignoring everyone else.

  “Pussycat!” she cried. Pulling away from Sebastian, she limped to him, “Oh, thank, fucking, God. I was so afraid you were hu—” Whatever else she might have said was lost in the kiss the big man laid on her as he swept her off her feet.

  “You might want to avert your eyes,” Vanessa whispered to Dave and giggled.

  Dave wasn’t quite sure what the guy was made out of—but it was definitely fireproof.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Diana Rose Wilson

  Diana Rose Wilson grew up under the shadow of the Mayacamas Mountains, raised by outlaws and bikers. She has been involved in the lifestyle since 1989, including working at a high end adult boutique specializing in fetish, BDSM and LGBT merchandise. Her debut book is Wicked Masquerade, first in the Forbidden Secrets series. She has also been published in Finesse, a publication for the Thomas Keller Restaurant group.

  Her mundane work experience spans the computer gaming industry, technology dot coms, hazardous waste disposal including the Gulf Oil spill cleanup, County Administration, and the culinary industry.