Ash: Devil's Crucifix MC

by Carmen Faye

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  Ash copyright @ 2016 by Carmen Faye. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  BONUS BOOK – BURN

  OTHER WORKS BY CARMEN FAYE

  PLAYER

  DARE

  SEAL

  OWNED BY THE BAD BOY

  BRUTE

  Chapter 1

  “Come on, Dani! Get your ass moving! This is no time to quit!” Captain Quinn hovers over me as I lay flat on the ground, a hundred or so feet from the end of the course. “This is why we don’t let pansy girls into the field! They just can’t handle it!”

  I look over at his dusty brown shoes. They’re covered in ashes and soot; the laces are just barely holding them together. I wanted boots like those -- I wanted firemen’s boots.

  As he continues to scream, I push myself back up to my elbows and sink my back and stomach farther into the sun-scorched concrete. I don’t give a damn what he says -- I’m going to do this.

  Slowly, I scoot and slide myself through the fake debris -- the discarded pieces of wood, the hanging branches simulated to look like ceiling planks, the marked cones where there should be holes in the ground. And inch by inch, the 180-pound weight attached to my hips slowly moves steadily behind me.

  I can see the red line coming around a corner. It’s my end point, my exit, my salvation. I just need to get myself and that ugly, screeching blank hunk of metal past it, and I’ll be home free. It should be impossible -- at least for someone as tiny as me -- but I’ve actually been able to use my small frame as an asset.

  I pull myself just past the line so I can sit up and grasp the rope around my hips with both my bare hands. The rope strains and almost feels like it’s going to snap. The weight doesn’t budge, so I give it another yank. Nothing. I set my jaw, clench my teeth, and heave all my weight backwards -- and suddenly, the weight gives a jump. Encouraged, I pull again.

  The other three trainees, all guys, drop what they’re doing and stare. They’ve been done with this course for a long time now. No one else had as much trouble as I am. But then again, 180 pounds is nothing when you’re six feet tall and ninety percent muscle.

  “Go, Dani!” comes a voice from behind me. “You got this, lady. C’mon. Just pull that goddamn weight across the line!” Crouched just inches away from me is Jamie, doing his best to be encouraging but still somehow coming off as a bit of a dick. Part of me thinks he is just seconds away from grabbing me from around my waist, throwing me over his shoulder, and doing the work for me.

  But he knows better. Instead he gets the rest of the trainees to chant my name with him. Even Captain Quinn is in on it as he shouts out my remaining time: ten seconds.

  “10…”

  My hands make a loop around the rope.

  “9….”

  I lean back slightly like I’m about to row a boat.

  “8…”

  I make my first tug and the weight moves an inch.

  “7…”

  I grunt and heave as I pull again.

  “6…”

  My hands drop the rope as my body begs me to just give it up.

  “5…”

  I feel sick to my stomach as I know I have to try again. I can’t not do this.

  “4…”

  I take in a deep breath of air, filling my lungs up.

  “3…”

  I cry out as I pull hard against the rope. My entire body leans back and falls onto the concrete.

  “2…”

  The weight slides fast across the line.

  “1…”

  I pull once more to be sure while letting out the longest, most satisfying cry I can muster up.

  “You did it! You did it Dani!” Jamie throws himself around me as I lay in a ball. His closeness throws me off, but I let it happen.

  I’m too tired to push him away if I could. The other trainees reach down and pat me on the shoulder before going back to the workout machines and weights left out in the fading sun.

  Above me, the Captain makes a note on his clipboard before giving me the thumbs up sign. I did it. I wasn’t supposed to. No one, including myself, thought I would ever get through that obstacle course with a weight that heavy. Just last week, I was struggling with a weight half its size, but I managed to find some kind of strength I never knew I had in me. And now I am only a few months and skill tests away from being a full-fledged fireman.

  Still, I can’t focus on that right now. All I can think about was how every muscle in my body is crying out. My arms feel as if they have been through a fire themselves while my neck struggles to keep my head lifted. Even my legs, which were pretty isolated, seem to rebel against me as I try to pull myself up to standing. Jamie, who is still hanging onto me like a monkey to a tree, isn’t exactly backing off either.

  I hate to admit it but I need to sit out for the rest of the workout. I can’t get much done anyway. I’m pretty sure if I even attempt to lift my gym bag, I’d be thrown to the ground by the weight. Instead, I take a seat in the two-person jacuzzi already bubbling and brewing and let myself just soak. I can’t care less that, sitting here in a black sports bra and panties, I’m pretty exposed.

  “You’re looking pretty fucking awful, kid.” Nate calls to me from his weight bench as he packs up the massive round weights from the pole back to the storage area. “You want a little something for those muscles?”

  “I could go for a massage,” I yell back as I turn my body slightly. My wrinkled prune of a hand emerges, grasping for the side of the tub to balance. “But I don’t think your wife would like that much.”

  “Good thing I wasn’t offering, Dani.” He winks at me, his eyes smiling brightly. “What I was offering was some meds. I’ve got some pretty strong stuff in the back of the ambulance I could give you.”

  At the word “medicine,” my mind instantly perks up. I slide to the edge of the tub and stand up slightly, trying my best not to appear overly eager. “You could do that? I thought you had to be a doctor to write that stuff. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your day job.” Nate and Aaron are both EMTs. It gave them an advantage when it came to the joining the fire department. They had known the Captain and the rest of the crew pretty well, and when it comes to open jobs, they’re pretty much a shoo-in for a full-time position.

  “Well, I can’t exactly prescribe you anything. What I’d give you would totally be between you and me.” His voice lowers to a whisper, just ou
t of earshot of Aaron, who is preoccupied listening to thunderous metal music blaring through his headphones while he goes for mile twenty on the spin bike. “But I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” Nate adds, giving me a cocksure smile.

  “Stop harassing her, Nate. It’s not cool.” Out of nowhere, Jamie steps in between the two of us, his arms outstretched as if he is protecting me from some unwanted advances. He turns his head back to me, and I notice how he can’t help but study my body just above the bubbling water.

  My hands wrap around myself to cover my exposed waist and panties.

  “Dude. Chill. I was just seeing if she needed a painkiller. I’m not hitting on her or anything. She’s all yours.”

  I practically moan as he turns and walks back to the weight bench. There goes the one little bit of happiness I could expect to get out of the rest of the night.

  Jamie watches him leave, a watchdog still on his mark. When he’s out of sight he turns back to me, his eyes lingering on my hard nipples that pop through the thin fabric. I pull myself out of the tub and down to the ground. He hands me a white towel from the fresh stack, which I grab from his grubby hands without a word of thanks. He can sense my anger as he sheepishly says, “Sorry about that. I thought he was pulling something fast on you. You know how guys can get around here.”

  “I certainly know all about that.” I shoot back as I grab his eye. If I could toss daggers, I know exactly where my target is. “But he wasn’t. He was being sweet. I’m in too much pain to even walk after that. Thanks for your help.”

  I’m being a bit of a sarcastic bitch here, but I can’t help it. Something about Jamie always comes across as overbearing. He’s like my ex who constantly had to be up in my business. And when he was involved, all he could do was drag me down or make me question my worth. After we broke up a year ago, I swore off men for good. They only served to treat me just like Jamie does -- like a something that has to be tamed or a roaring fire that needs to be put out. I am none of those.

  Actually, that’s why I’m here at the station. It was just about six months ago when I found a flier at a coffee shop asking for fire department recruits. My one female friend, Eva, practically laughed me out of the restaurant when I told her I might be interested. “Do you know what you have to do to get in?” she giggled. “C’mon, girl. You just don’t have the physical strength for that. You can’t even lift your couch without calling my dad over to help!”

  I sat there, seething, my face flushed with anger. I mean, what the fuck? I couldn’t believe she was questioning me like that. She was supposed to be my closest friend.

  But as I sat there, my mind racing a mile a minute, I found myself grudgingly admitting that she had a point. Even though I had gotten out of that relationship, I was still relying on everyone to get me through. And my job as a waitress at the sports bar just meant I was floundering on by, begging and flirting with men for tips.

  I quit the next day and signed up for the academy. I knew nothing about fire-fighting except that it was a man’s job. At each turn, Captain Quinn and even some of the guys pressured me to quit or to give in and admit I wasn’t going to pass the physical exams. But I just got stronger, faster, tougher. I learned to drown them out. I learned to push out people like Jamie who still made me feel like I had to validate his sexism.

  But not tonight. After getting through the pull obstacle task just in the cut off time, he wasn’t going to diminish my shine. I grab my gym bag, ignoring the stinging pain shooting through my wrists and arm, and walk past him confidently. He doesn’t bother following as I trail behind Nate who takes the lead to the parked ambulance.

  “Don’t let him bother you, Dani. He’s just some innocent kid. Doesn’t know how to talk to ladies. I hate to admit that I was just like him when I was in my twenties.” He laughs as he opens the back door and jumps in. In just a few moments, he tosses me down a bottle of a white pill bottle.

  I just barely catch it, my arms waving in the wind wildly.

  Nate wasn’t lying as I instantly regret not waiting till I was back in bed to take a dose. The ocean and the trees seem to combine in a brown-green-blue swirl as I try to keep my eyes straight ahead on the yellow lines guiding me back towards my condo building at the outskirts of town. My hands practically wrap themselves into the interior of the steering wheel as I try to keep my distance from a man on the motorcycle who eyes me cautiously as he passes me by.

  Luckily, I make it home without any real incident besides running into the door without even bothering to think if it was locked or not. My muddled brain can’t even bring myself to make dinner. I just stare at the boiling pot of water until I decide it isn’t worth it and walk back towards the bedroom, tossing my still damp clothing onto the floor as I go.

  My black and white satin sheets call out to me as I tumble headfirst into the sheets, like a dive into a cool swimming pool on a sticky summer’s day. In moments, my eyes grow tight and close. The rest of my body stills and steadies and I’m transported to somewhere new far away from my condo.

  I find myself in the same dream I’m always in. I’m standing in a field alone, my hands reaching out to touch the sunflowers and lilac that grow tall beside one another. The moist earth cringles under my toes while the wind blows against my face. It’s cool and calming, a safe space that protects me from all the bull that’s happening in the real world.

  However, today is different. As soon as I begin walking toward the line of trees, the ground around me seems to dry and crack. The flowers and grass wither and brown. And the smell is so familiar but hard to place. My mouth dries instantly as I place it. It’s smoke. Billowing, black, puffy smoke that overtakes all of my senses. Drops of tears fill my eyes. And my ears prick and tingle as I listen closely to the sounds around me.

  And suddenly, I’m not dreaming anymore. I’m not in my safe space. The fire in my mind is the fire surrounding my apartment. My eyes burst open to heat like I’ve never felt before. I can practically feel my skin expand and bubble. I try to focus on the ceiling above me, but the drugs Nate gave me haven’t worn off yet and the adrenaline I know I should be feeling is fighting its way through my veins.

  Everything in my room is silent. There’s no one screaming, no alarm bells going off, no sounds of feet running frantically through my hallway. Something isn’t right. This isn’t how a fire is supposed to go. I have to think fast. I have to move fast. I can’t just lay here in bed to wait for my fate. I finally find the strength to pick myself out of bed to investigate.

  Like a good firefighter, I close my bedroom windows and shut the doors behind me as I creep carefully into the kitchen, unaware of how close I am from danger. The whole room is enveloped in a thick, oily cloud of black and gray smoke. I force myself down to the ground, my hand grasping at a dishtowel hanging from the fridge as I make my way towards the door to the condo building’s hallway.

  Before I even touch it, I know the answer. Through the darkness, I see the smoke billowing out of the crack of the door like a waterfall moving in reverse. I place my hands too the wood and then instantly pull it back. It’s dry and warm, and I know that the real fire is just outside that door waiting to creep in. I can’t risk it.

  I use the dishtowel to clog the crack at the bottom of the door and then rush out towards the windows. My small apartment begins to fill with the noise of wood sparking and support beams bending. I don’t have time. And being on the third, penthouse, floor, I know I don’t necessarily have a way out either. I stand by the windows, the glass still cool to the touch as I think through my three choices: waiting for rescue that most likely won’t come in time, facing the flames that await me, or jumping out the window and hoping the worst I come out of it with just a broken leg or a shattered back.

  I do the only thing I think is right. I sprint towards my bathroom and turn on the water in the tub. Stepping in, I crouch as low as possible and begin to pray.

  Chapter 2

  When I was younger, my best friend was a kid named Ma
tty. Matty loved superhero movies -- not the new, mega-blockbuster ones with complex, conflicted heroes and villains, but the cheesy old vintage flicks where the hero would learn of an emergency and instantly transform. It only took a few seconds for the hero to just appear to face whatever danger there was. Maybe he flew in with capes flapping in the wind. Maybe he would rush in in a bolt of lighting. Maybe he would speed through in a slick car.

  Either way, I always wondered how anyone could believe someone would just show up to save you. That’s not how life works. There was no one there to save my dad when he was in the car accident. There wasn’t a superhero that just stood in front of the truck seconds before it collided with his van. There was no cape, no bolt of lighting, no talking car. That’s not how a rescue worked.

  Sitting in this tub, I can’t help but think about Matty and how he would yell at me that I was spoiling his movies by insisting it wasn’t real. “You’re no fun, Dani!” He would yell at me as he turned off the movie and ran upstairs to head home. I am always the realist, even when I was ten years old.