Stepping closer, she wraps her arms around my waist. “Thanks for everything.”
“Sure thing,” I reply, standing stiffly as she hugs me tight.
After a few seconds, I rest my hands on her arms, gently guiding her back. “I gotta go,” I say with a smile. “Oh.” I suddenly think of something and head over to the drawers beside my bed. Opening the bottom drawer, I rifle through, retrieving yet another prepay cell. “Use this.” I hand it to her. “My number is already in there, should you need me.”
She takes it, holding it tightly in her hand. “Right. Thank you,” she says smiling as I head over to the door. Taking my key, I unlock the door and glance at her one last time. I feel so much responsibility for this girl. I can’t help it. Clearing the thoughts from my mind, I lock the door behind me and head downstairs. Music reverberates through the house and I head back into the main room. My eyes scan the area as I try to locate Davo. I spot him playing pool with Zane and Jarvis. Stalking over, I pat him loudly on the back.
“Hey,” he says as he jerks upright. “You nearly fucked up my shot.”
“All of your shots are fucked up, man,” Zane taunts, the two of them laughing.
“Screw you,” Davo replies, flipping them the bird. “What’s up with you?” he asks, tipping his head, his eyes hard on me. I rest my arm lazily across his shoulders, leaning in. “Just spoke to Brax. I gotta split for a bit. I need you to cover for me and watch the girl.”
“Emily?”
“Yeah, Silver pulled some shit on her before and I don’t want a repeat. Brax tells me I can count on you.”
Pulling back, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Of course you can.” He reaches, grabbing hold of my hand and pulling me into him, the palm of his hand lands heavily on my back. “Always, man.”
“Good. She’s in my room. The door is locked, but she’s expecting you.”
“Got it,” he says handing his cue to Jarvis. “Looks like we gotta save the slaughter for another day, boys.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Zane jokes.
I watch as Davo wastes no time in walking out of the room. “I’m out of here,” I whisper to them. “You gotta cover for me if anyone asks.”
“Sure,” Zane replies in a hushed voice, slowly closing the space between us. “The Silver thing?” he asks, and I nod in agreement.
“Yeah, man.”
“Got your back, bro,” Jarvis adds. “Call if you need us.”
“Thanks, man.” I walk away from them and out of the house. I race over to the fenced yard where the bikes are parked, constantly sweeping the area. Being seen could be dangerous. I have to get out of here while they party, without arousing suspicions.
Pulling on my helmet, I slide my leg over the bike, unlocking the front wheel and starting the engine. The roar of the engine vibrates through my body, a feeling that will never tire. Twisting the grip and applying the throttle, I set off slowly, trying not to rev too loudly. As soon as I’m out of the grounds and on the main road. I drive the bike like it’s an extension of my own body. I lean, the bike leans. When I twist the throttle, it’s like the hand of God rests on me. I feel at peace yet charged with energy.
I wind down the streets to the house I know belongs to Tara’s mom. She brought me here once to meet her mom after Carter died. To say it didn’t go well was an understatement.
I pull up just outside, checking for signs of life. The whole house is dark, but I know it’s late. Cutting the engine, I slide my leg over the bike, wincing a little at the pain from the burns. In all the chaos, I’d forgotten to take my meds. Walking down the path. I stop at the front door, pausing momentarily. I hope and pray that she’s here. Clenching my fist, I raise it, rapping it against the door. I step back, checking to see if there is any movement. A light appears upstairs, and I hold my hands together in front of me, waiting for someone to answer the door.
“Who is it?” I hear a voice call through the door.
“I’m looking for Tara,” I reply, hoping it’s enough for them to answer the door.
The rattle of a chain can be heard, then the door opens slowly. The face of a woman appears in the small gap and as I step closer, I recognize that it’s her mom. Only, she seems to have aged since I last saw her.
“Mrs. Mellano, I’m looking for your daughter.”
She scoffs loudly. “What on earth makes you think she'll be here? Haven’t heard from her in months.”
“Maybe it’s the fact that you treat her like shit,” I spit back.
The chain rattles some more, and the door is suddenly swung open. Her mother steps out and before I know it has a shotgun pressed against my chest.
“Don’t you fucking dare come here and lecture me.” Her face is distorted, the disgust clear to see.
“Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m just here to find Tara. I care about her.”
“Well, that makes two of us. Only, her part in the death of my nephew isn’t something I can forget quickly.”
“We did what we had to that day. Carter had crossed too many lines. He did some terrible things, Mrs. Mellano.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. “I see the cut you wear. You’re a Savage, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then you have no place telling me how bad my nephew was.”
“I’m not here to talk about the MC or about Carter. I’m here because I’m trying to find Tara. Please, if you have heard from her, or if she’s here, I have to know.”
Pressing the gun harder against my chest, she lets out an audible tut. “I already told you she ain’t here.”
“Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Mellano,” I say with a respectful nod, slowly stepping back.
“Don’t come here again,” she spits out. “The likes of you don’t fit well around here.”
Without any response, I turn, heading back to my bike. As I slide my leg over and grab my helmet, I can’t help but glance one last look back at the disheveled woman.
Starting the bike, I set off ready to check every bar and place I can think of to find her.
She has to be somewhere.
Tara
My head is pounding like a goddamn jackhammer. My eyes sting as I try to open them, but it’s no use.
What the hell?
Where am I?
I reach up, barely able to control any of my body’s movements. My hand rests on the side of my pounding head, and I can’t seem to shift the haze. Prizing one eye open, I try to work out where the hell I am. My mind is all over the place. I’m trying to remember what happened last night, but no matter how hard I wrack my brain, I can’t think. With one eye open, the bright light shining through the window makes me wince.
“Shit.” I croak out my grumble. It feels like my body is broken. I can’t move. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force them open once more. I blink rapidly, trying to ease the stinging sensation. I focus on the ceiling, squinting as I do. This isn’t Brax’s spare room.
What the hell…?
A source of heat is lying beside me and I twist my neck to take a look. I’m lying on my back with a naked body beside me. How? I glance down slowly, noticing that I’m also naked.
Gulp.
Fear spirals through me uncontrollably.
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth as I look at the body sprawled out beside me. My stomach rolls and I’m sure I’m about to vomit.
Jeffries.
Shit.
How… how the hell is this possible?
I have to get out of here.
NOW.
My body trembles all the while my mind is racing. I feel a cold sweat break out over my skin, my heart pounding in my ever-tightening chest. I have to get this traitorous body of mine to move. Biting down on my dry lips, I will my legs to move. I place my hand on there as I desperately try to get it to fall off the side of the bed. I’m trying to breathe but I feel like I’m suffocating. Slowly, I inhale through my
nose, trying to compose myself. I have to get out of here and fast, but right now my mind and body won’t cooperate.
Deep breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
Trying once again, I manage to get my legs to slide from the bed. I can do this. I have to do this. Bringing my arms up slowly, I wince at the ache I feel in all of my muscles. Placing my palms flat beside me, I push precariously until I’m sitting upright. Glancing beside me, I check he’s still sleeping. The last thing I need is to wake this monster.
Swinging both of my legs over the edge of the bed, I blink rapidly; water builds in my eyes as they continue to sting. I swipe my hand over my eyes, trying to clear the mist. When I do, I almost choke on the sob that rises. My legs are covered in bruises. I quickly rake my eyes over the rest of my body finding much of the same. Bruises all over my skin, bite marks near my breasts.
That’s when it hits me.
That’s when I realize what must’ve happened here last night. I fight back the sob trying to force its way out, my hand clenched over my mouth.
He raped and beat me.
No, I tell myself, shaking my head. It can’t be. It can’t be true. How the hell could this have happened?
I take a look over my shoulder at Jeffries before glancing around the room. I need a weapon, something that I can use to hurt this sick fucker.
Stepping as lightly as I can from the bed, a sharp pain almost cripples me. The pain between my legs is like no pain I’ve ever felt before. Cold tears begin to fall over my warm face and I have to use every bit of strength I can summon not to collapse to the floor.
Shuffling my feet against the wooden floor, I quietly make my way around the huge bed and notice my clothes on the floor. I carefully lower myself, grabbing the few items I see. My eyes sweep the area, locating his cut and clothes on a chair in the corner.
I swallow hard, wanting to make this bastard pay for what he’s done. Pulling my top over my head, I drop on all fours, making my way to his clothes. His gun and knife must be here. I check over my shoulder, Jeffries remains lying on the bed, dead to the world. I struggle with the pain in my body but push through it until I reach the chair. Dropping his clothes to the floor, I see his gun in its holster. I rush to grab it, only to be thrust backward, yelping at the unexpectedness of falling back.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he roars, and I clasp my hands over his as he pulls on my hair with a viselike grip.
“Get off of me!” I scream, thrashing wildly in an attempt to escape his hold. “What did you do to me?”
His face appears at the side of mine, my semi-naked body now pressing against his. “You wanted me, Tara. I just gave you what you wanted,” he drawls, his foul breath against my goose pimple-covered skin. His weathered, tattoo-covered arm, tightens around my neck.
“No,” I cry out, tears now in full flow. “How… how… could you do this?” I sob. Shuffling back, he drags me along with him, thrusting me down on the bed. My head spins and I can barely control myself. But I scream. So damn loud that my throat hurts.
“Shut the fuck up,” he demands, placing his hand over my mouth. He reaches into the small bedside table, pulling out a gun. Removing the hand on my mouth, he places the gun inside my mouth.
I gag, the sloppy sound causing Jeffries to raise his eyebrow. “Baby, I know just how good you can deep throat.” He tilts his head to the side, an evil grin etched across his menacing face. “You did real good,” he says, shimmying his hand down and across my breast. I shudder in disgust, wishing there was a way to stop him.
“You belong here with me. I want you by my side and believe me when I say I get what I want.” He juts the gun a little further and I gag some more.
“Oh, baby. Do you have any idea what that sound does to me?”
Bile rises in my throat and I’m frozen with fear. I don’t know what to do. I look him in the eyes; part of me hates that they resemble the eyes that hold my heart. You could never deny that Nate is Jeffries’ son.
Breaking my thoughts, I glance down at my legs. Jeffries stands over me and I have a clear shot at hitting him between the legs. But it’s a risk. What if he slips on the trigger and blows my damn head off?
Without a second thought I drop my head to the side and raise my knee with as much force as I can manage. He groans, the gun falling just beside my head. I thrash around, trying to slip from beneath him, but my hand hits something hard just beside the pillow.
It’s a knife.
Grabbing the handle, I swipe it from under the pillow and hold it to his throat.
“Make one wrong move and I slice your fucking throat,” I warn.
Jeffries’ calm demeanor never falters. Raising back his hand, he strikes me across the face so hard with the back of his hand that I tumble from the bed, the knife dropping to the floor beside me. Landing beside me he reaches for the knife, but I thrust my hand out, grabbing it before him. I’m lying on the floor with him kneeling beside me. Rearing my hand back, I stab the tip of his knife into his thigh. Jeffries’ shrill cry echoes through the room. Scrambling away from him, I see my purse beside the door.
“You fucking bitch,” he yells, clutching his leg as the knife remains plowed deep into his thigh, blood pouring from the wound and dripping onto the floor.
I have to get out of here now. And fast. I stumble to my feet, grabbing my jeans from the floor, and I race toward the door. I reach down for my purse, grabbing it before yanking the door open.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he bellows. “I’ll come for you again, Tara. Mark my words.” I don’t let his words faze me, I’m too busy trying to get the hell out of there. I jerk at the sudden sound of gunfire, my hand covering my head as I duck and run out of the door and down the hall. Knowing the gunfire will wake the rest of the clubhouse, I pick up my speed. Skipping down the steps two at a time I race toward the door and out into the cool morning air. Despite being half-naked, I don’t stop until I’m well clear of the clubhouse. My heart thunders and I can barely feel my feet or my legs for that matter. I swing my head, constantly checking over my shoulder just in case I’m being followed. Dropping from the side of the road, I conceal myself in the woodland. Stopping, I drop onto my knees, trying to catch my breath. I heave trying to control my breathing. I raise my trembling hand closer to my face, looking at the pair of jeans in my hand.
“Shit,” I mumble as I open the floodgates for yet more tears. They fall continuously down my face as I drop my hand, sliding on the jeans. Checking my purse, I notice that everything I had is still there. I pull out my phone, checking to see if I have battery. When the screen lights, I can’t help but hold the phone to my chest in disbelief.
Thank God.
I raise it in front of my face, unlocking the phone and dialing a cab.
* * *
The cab pulls up outside the house and I can’t help but wonder whether coming here is a mistake. If I had a choice I wouldn’t be here, but the truth is my choices are limited.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” The driver peers at me between the gap of the seats.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, my eyes flutter shut, and I nod slowly. I open my purse grabbing a twenty and hold it out to the driver.
“Keep the change,” I say, pushing the handle and opening the cab door. My body trembles as I cross my arms over my chest, something I haven’t been able to control since I opened my eyes.
Swallowing over and over I walk toward the front door. I pause for a second wondering whether I should let myself in or knock on the door. I choose to let her know I’m here.
Knocking on the door lightly, I stand back, waiting for her to answer. A few seconds pass before I hear footsteps approaching the door. The lock turns and Mom appears in the doorway. In her hand she holds a shotgun, and it’s pointing directly at me.
“Whoa,” I say stepping back a little. “Mom, it’s me,” I rush out, hoping she’ll drop the goddamn gun.
> “Tara,” she gasps. “What the hell…?” She steps closer, a horrified look on her face. “What happened to you?” she asks, her eyes raking over my bruised body.
“Can I come in?” I choke out.
“Sure.” She beckons with her hand. I nervously step closer, but her arms wrap around me immediately.
“I wish I could say it’s good to see you, Tara. But looking like this, I’m not sure it is.”
I drop my head, resting it against her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
Stroking my hair, she holds me tight against her. No matter what she thinks about my involvement in Carter’s death, I know my mom loves me.
“Go into the living room. I’m gonna lock up and grab us a coffee. Okay?” She pulls back, dipping her head until our eyes meet. I nod, using my hand to swipe away the tears. Parting from me, she closes the door, dropping the shotgun just beside the frame. I slowly walk through the hall and into the living room. I can’t help but notice how different this place is. Mom always had such beautiful, expensive furniture. My eyes roam the room to notice it has all gone and some of it has been replaced with more simple, flat-pack furniture. I furrow my brows as confusion swims through my mind. I step over to the small couch, grabbing the blanket and placing it over my ruined body. The place sure looks different but the smell and comfort are all too familiar. Pulling the blanket up, I hold it beneath my chin.
My mother appears beside me, placing two cups of steaming coffee on the table just in front of us. Her forehead creases as she looks at me, tears swimming in her eyes. She forces a smile, but I know how hard this is for her. We haven’t spoken for months and I know she blames me for Carter’s death.
“What happened to you, Tara?” she asks, her hand resting against my leg. “Your face. Look at your face.” Slowly lifting her hand, she presses her palm against my face. I suck in a sharp breath, her hand touching the cuts and lumps on my face. The ones I received at the hands of that monster.
The complete scars series: Books one-four Page 56
