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.
“A man…” I pause. My voice wavers as I try to find the strength to tell my mother what happened. “A man who made a deal with Carter drugged me and hurt me. I’m not exactly sure what happened, because he placed a cloth over my mouth and I have no memory. But all I know is I’m covered in bruises.”
My mother’s face pales. “Jesus,” she gasps. “Why… why would someone do that?”
“I was the deal, Mom. I was part of whatever agreement he made with this man. Your precious nephew did this.”
With a sob, she launches her arms around me, pulling me into her. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. I never thought this would be something he’d do. You are family. Family meant everything to Carter. Or so I thought,” she says with an audible tut. “I’ve been such an idiot. All this time I was hurting, thinking my own daughter had killed my nephew when all along you were right.” Mom pulls back, grimacing. Her lips are pulled into a fine line and the sorrow in her eyes is evident.
“He wasn’t the man you thought he was, Mom. He fooled us all.”
And that’s the truth. He dragged me into his life, using my life as a bartering tool. And even now that he’s gone, those deals can’t be undone.
“Did he, uh, did her hurt you sexually?” she asks, her voice tentative, her hand stroking the back of my hand.
“I don’t know,” I choke as tears fill my eyes.
“We should get you to the hospital.”
“No,” I spit out. “I can’t do that.”
“This man needs to pay for what he’s done to you. We need to find out exactly what he’s inflicted on you and get the bastard locked up.
My throat feels like it’s tightening as my anxiety grows. How can I go to the police without incriminating everyone? Nate, Brax, Isabelle. Too many questions will be asked.
“
I can’t,” I sob, covering my eyes with my hands. “Not now.”
“Well, okay,” she placates. “Maybe tomorrow, see how you feel tomorrow. But one thing is for certain. You cannot let this animal get away with hurting you.”
Sniffling, I drop my hands, looking my mom deep in the eye. “He won’t. Believe me.”
“I should clean those wounds.” Mom jumps from the couch, but I grab a hold of the robe she wears.
“I really just want to shower, if that’s okay?”
“Baby.” She lets out a huff. “The only way you will know what he’s done is by being examined. Another reason why you should let me take you to the hospital.”
“By the pain and swelling I have between my legs, I have no doubt he did exactly what he wanted to. I don’t need a doctor to tell me something I’m already pretty sure happened.” My tone is harsh, yet that was never my intention. I step up from the couch, kissing Mom on the cheek and walking out of the room. I stop at the door, resting my hand on the frame and glancing over my shoulder.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Nate
“I’ve searched everywhere, man. No sign.”
“Fuck,” he growls menacingly.
Sitting on my bike, my heart aches with every pound. How could I have let this happen?
“Have you been home yet?” Brax inquires and I pull the phone away from my ear, looking at the time on my phone display. It’s five thirty in the morning.
“No, man. I’ve been searching all night.”
“Go home, get some rest and I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
“I’ve got to fucking find her, Brax. Where the hell is she?”
“I’m going to make some calls. There’s nothing more you can do. Go rest.”
“I’m sorry, man. Fuck, this is all my fault. Protecting her and pushing her away has caused this.”
“That’s not important right now. The main thing is finding her and knowing she is safe.” His voice booms down the receiver.
“Okay,” I say, because I have nothing left I can say. Ending the call, I scroll through the contacts, stopping when I see her name. I hover my finger over, contemplating trying her again. I’ve already tried calling at least fifty times, one more won’t hurt, right?
Dropping my finger against her name, it initiates the call. I place it to my ear, mentally hoping this will be the time she answers.
“Nate,” her voice crackles down the phone.
“Shit, Tara. Why the fuck haven’t you answered my calls?” I snap, in total disbelief.
“Urmm,” she replies like she’s trying not to be heard. I swallow down hard. She would normally throw back some sarcastic comment, but her simple reply makes my mind race.
“Where the hell are you?” I ask, stepping up from my bike, my hand squeezing the back of my neck.
“It has nothing to do with you,” she spits back.
“This has everything to do with me,” I roar. “I’ve been out searching for you all night. We’ve been out of our minds with worry.”
“No need,” she replies.
“I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”
“Don’t you have a new chick to look after now, Nate?”
“Where are you?” I repeat, my nostrils flaring at the anger that brews inside.
“It is none of your concern. I’m not your concern.”
“Fuck, baby, don’t play bullshit games with me. I need to see you. I need to know you are alright. There’s so much I have to tell you. We need to talk.”
“Last night I came to talk. Only you were too busy.” Her voice wavers and I can hear the emotion in her voice. She’s hurting, and that pain I hear is like a punch to my gut.
“You gotta believe me. It wasn’t like that.”
I hear voices in the background asking who it is. It sounds a lot like her mom.
“Are you at your mom’s, Tara?”
“Bye, Nate,” she rushes out and ends the call.
“No,” I yell, but it’s too late. I quickly bring up Brax’s name, dialing it. “Hey,” I say as he answers after just one ring. “She’s at her mom’s. I’m going to get her.”
“Thank fuck,” he breathes heavily down the phone.
“I’m making this right, Brax. I’m fixing my mistake.” I don’t give him a chance to reply. Ending the call, I race to mount my bike, starting the ignition. I pull back the throttle, setting off so fast that the ground churns beneath my wheels.
The whole way there, my head is filled with thoughts of how I’m going to make this right. Pulling up outside the house, I cut the engine, hopping from my bike. Sliding off the helmet, I rest it on the handlebars, racing to the porch and knocking on the front door.
I wait patiently for an answer, but it’s like no one is home. I lift my clenched fist, my hand trembling as I wonder whether she’s lied to me. Dropping back a few steps, my eyes roam the windows, hoping for some sign that she’s here. A few seconds later I hear the lock drop and I rush back to the door.
Her mother answers, resting her head against the door.
“Nate,” she sighs. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to see her,” I blurt out.
“Well, I’m afraid, my dear boy, she doesn’t want to see you.”
“Why?” I start to ask, but she cuts me off, holding her hand up.
“It’s none of my business.”
“Yeah,” I snarl, “well, I’m making this my fucking business. Open the goddamn door.” I barge toward her, but she reacts, pulling out the shotgun and pointing it toward me.
“DO it,” I say through gritted teeth. “WELL, come on. What are you waiting for?” I’m standing in front of her, the gun pointed and resting against my chest. “It will take more than a fucking shotgun to stop me trying to see Tara.”
Slowly, she lowers the gun, her eyes pinned on me. “You mean that?” she asks with a tilt of her head.
“Every word,” I reiterate. “Listen, I know what you think about me. I know that you think I’m no good for your daughter, and maybe you’re right. I’m a fucking Savage, a good for nothing outlaw. But I didn’t choose to fall in love with your daughter. My heart did.”
Swallowing heavily, she steps back a little offering her arm out to the side. “You’d better come in.”
I don’t hesitate. I storm inside, racing through the hall, my head scanning the rooms until I finally find her.
“Tara,” I call out, the anticipation of seeing her almost too much.
She gasps, dropping her head out of sight.
“I can’t see you,” she responds, her voice taut and instantly panic races through my body. “Get out,” she yells.
“You need to hear me out,” I say walking through the door and into the living room. I step closer to her where she’s hunched on the couch. My whole body shakes at the sight of her.
Sliding down beside her, I rest my hand on her arm. “I ain’t going nowhere, Tara. You gotta hear me out.”
“Please,” she sobs, her body quivering as she does. “Not now, Nate. Not now.”
I shake my head, confusion swimming through my brain. I have no idea what is happening here, but I’ve no intention of leaving until I know she’s okay. “Baby, I’m here,” I say, leaning into her, encompassing her in my hold. “Please, Tara.” I whisper my plea. “Talk to me.” My voice almost gives out as I try to get her to open up to me. I feel her lifting her head, so I relax my hold, waiting for her next move.
The next thing I see makes me feel like she has taken a knife to my gut. A pain too much to bear tears my insides apart.
“No,” I say, my eyes focusing on the mess that her face is in. Cuts and bruises cover her cheekbones and the thought that she’s hurting is almost more than I can take. “Baby, what the fuck happened to you? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
My heart thuds as the rage grows inside. Someone has hurt her and all I want to do is cut out the heart of the bastard who did this to her. “Who was it?” I ask. My
voice rumbles as I try to control the bubble of anger that is boiling too close to the surface.
“I don’t know,” she stutters out. “I got mugged. I fought them, but they got away with my money.”
“Fuck,” I exhale, reaching my hand to the back of her head and dragging her until my lips meet her forehead.
“And you have no idea who it was?”
“No,” she replies weakly, her eyes finally lifting and meeting mine.
Another stab to my gut. The pain in her eyes wounds me.
“I want to take it away. Make this all better for you, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I just need some space, Nate. Guess I’m a little shaken.”
“I understand,” I say, kissing her again on the forehead.
“You shouldn’t be here.” She presses her hand against my chest, pushing me away. Her focus drops to the floor, like she can’t look at me. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You were missing. I had to know you were okay. For that I’m willing to fucking risk it all.”
“Last night you pushed me away, Nate. You didn’t fucking care enough then, so don’t patronize me by pretending you care now.”
“Of course I care,” I snap. “I made a bad decision, a really bad decision. Seems about the only thing I’m good at right now.”
“You chose her over me,” she says in a hushed whisper.
I laugh. “You are wrong. So goddamn wrong.”
“You’re laughing at me now? Huh?”
“No,” I yell. “Listen to me, Tara. Goddamnit, just listen.” I’m shouting because I’m losing control. I’m losing her and I have to get her to listen. To understand.
“Emily… the girl you saw me with,” I clarify. “She arrived at the clubhouse last night, with the newest prospect. He brought her as a sweetener to my father. Call it a buy-in.”
She turns her head, her swollen eyes on mine.
“Well, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. She was promised this wonderful life at the MC, but quickly realized she’d been brought in as nothing more than a whore. I felt sorry for her. We got to talking, and I soon realized that I could make good of the situation. My father was pushing me to take an interest in her, so I went along.” I pause, brushing back the loose strands of hair that have fallen over my face.
In love and ruins Page 17
