by Evie Monroe
It felt good to finally relax after the events of the past few days. Like I could finally breathe. I let my knees fall to the side of the tub as I sank deeper into the water, fully intending to do just as Nix commanded and stay in there until I turned into a prune.
I drifted off, and while I was heading to dreamland, a vision hit me.
A toast. To fifty years of life.
That was what we’d all been shouting. It was a small party. Just a few people whose names I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t see my father’s face, but I could feel his presence behind me. I could feel his embrace as I wished him a happy birthday. He was so surprised, so happy, he leaned in and kissed me. Thanks, Ollie.
Then, oh no! The cake. Stupid me, I’d left the cake on the back seat of the car. It was whipped cream, and the day had been a scorcher. He’d offered to get it, but I told him it was his birthday, and he should relax. “I hope it isn’t ruined!” I’d called to him as I went into the lobby.
His car was parked just outside in valet, and I had an extra key. The garage was dark, but I wasn’t worried. I’d practically grown up there, learning to play tennis at this club after school.
I had opened the door and lifted the cake. Purple flowers with strawberry custard filling. He loved strawberry. I slammed the car door.
Then, hands. Out of nowhere. So many hands. Something shoved me hard in the stomach, knocking all the breath out of me.
A palm made quick contact with my face. White-hot pain seared my cheek, and I saw fireworks, my vision bending. I stumbled backwards, against the car. The sheet cake slipped from my grip, and I tried to save it, only to have the white box open, the mounds of squishy cake slipping through my fingers. Frosting everywhere.
I tried to scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth. I smelled gasoline. I reeled back and fought, but it was no match for the two—three? men surrounding me. They ripped my hair from my scalp, and pain tore through my skull. I felt my body being dragged, heels scraping the ground, slowly but deliberately from the entrance of the parking garage, back toward the car. “No, no, no!” my mind screamed as I heard the rip of duct tape being unfurled from the roll.
They held me down, tying something so tight around my mouth that it was impossible to breathe, much less scream. It dug between my lips, pushing against my tongue, tasting foul. My first reflex was to spit it out, to tell them I couldn’t breathe, but I could do neither.
Which only made me panic more. I’m going to die.
I fisted my hands for one last attempt to break free, but I was already bound. By their hands, by the tape, I couldn’t tell. “Get her up. Get her in here,” one of the men said, and then I felt myself being lifted, weightless, into the air.
“She’s hot. I want to play with her,” another man said, sending another wave of fear screaming through my body.
The sound of a trunk popping. Another voice. “No time. Someone’s coming. Dump her.”
Suddenly, I landed with a thud, in a small, enclosed space. The hood of the car above me, one of three men stood over me, ready to close it. He grinned at me sadistically. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
My heartbeat drummed in my ears as I waited with absolute horror for what would come next.
As the men were leaving, I saw an emblem on their jacket. A burning bike.
It was a motorcycle jacket. There were part of a motorcycle gang.
And then they slammed the trunk, and blackness closed in upon me.
Chapter Seven
Phoenix
“What the fuck?” I asked Cullen as I stepped inside his Bayfront mansion an hour after leaving Liv.
I hadn’t wanted to leave her. She looked too wounded to be left alone. There was such a lost look in her eyes. And then she’d kissed me, just on the cheek, and I’d fucking felt it everywhere. Before I left, I’d warned her to be safe, and all I could think of doing was crushing my mouth against hers and taking her.
But this was emergency church, and as VP of the club, I couldn’t miss it.
Turned out, Cullen had only called the ruling members for this session. I was the last to arrive. All the men were gathered around the kitchen island, staring at Hart’s laptop.
“Nice of you to join us, Nix,” Cullen muttered, taking a swig of his beer.
I frowned as the other boys looked at me. Jet eyed me up and down; he may have been naïve, but he was the only one who was related to me by blood, so he knew me better than all of them. I deliberately ignored his suspicious glance as I grabbed a beer from the fridge and slid onto a bar stool.
“What are you looking at?” I said, fishing around in the pocket of my jacket for my Marlboros. Fuck. I’d left them on my dresser.
“I’ve been researching Michael Anderson some more,” Hart murmured, clicking through a bunch of pages. “Trying to see what his dealings are, who his enemies are.”
“It’s a long list,” Drake muttered, noticing my problem. He held out his pack and I swiped a cigarette, then he held out the lighter to me. I lit it and inhaled deeply, listening.
Hart nodded. “Basically, the man doesn’t have a friend in this state.”
I exhaled and stared hard at Hart through the haze of smoke. “Shouldn’t we have known this before we lifted the car?”
Hart hitched a shoulder. “Ain’t like this stuff is easy to find out. Takes some time. And the last job was a rush, remember?”
“It’s hard to buy that his little princess didn’t know a thing about it,” Cullen said, then looked at Zain. “Tell him what you told me.”
Zain ran his hand through his scrub of brown hair. “The word out on the street is that he’s looking for her and has paid some people to find her.”
“So now we’re all wondering where she’s hiding,” Cullen said, giving me a frown. “Surely, she’s not with Phoenix. I told him to cut her loose.”
“You did,” I muttered, taking another drag on my cigarette and letting it out slowly.
“Because like I said, she’s not the innocent thing she’s making herself out to be. She’s dirty. And she’s only going to bring us trouble,” Culled added, waiting for me to break. That fucker.
Dirty. Liv? I didn’t believe that for a second. Not with those big eyes, that soft, sweet...everything. The girl was pure as the driven snow. Her father had to have kept her out of the business entirely. And while she might have brought us trouble, right then, I was willing to face it, if it meant keeping her safe.
Eyes hard, locked on Cullen’s stormy blue ones, I brought my beer up to my lips, intent on taking a swig.
He brought his hand out in a flash, knocking the beer out of my hand. Beer flew everywhere, and the bottle skidded across the floor. “Don’t fuck with me, brother.”
I pushed my stool away from the counter and rose to my full height, standing over him. I had him beat by a good four inches, and I used it, staring him down.
It worked. The next time, his voice had less bite in it. “You know you need to let her go. I’m not asking you that. I’m telling you.”
I knew where Cullen was coming from. It was one thing for me to stick my own neck out. But when one of us was in trouble, the others always backed him up. My getting entangled in this deal meant that all the Cobras were involved. And Cullen didn’t want to risk it.
Hell, I didn’t want to risk my brothers, either.
I just wanted to keep Liv safe.
I pinched the cigarette and took a drag of it. Slowly, I nodded. I knew that I had to let her go. But knowing and doing were two different things.
“Bring her to her father,” Cullen said. “He’ll take care of making sure she’s safe.”
He would. Liv would fight it, though. She’d told me she didn’t want anything to do with him. But Cullen was right. She couldn’t stay with me forever. And if her father found out I was hiding her, it could embroil the Cobras in a war they hadn’t meant to fight.
I nodded. “I will. She won’t be happy about it. But I will.”
“What if
it’s a set up?” Jetson asked suddenly. We all turned to him. “I mean, it’s all too easy. We get a tip about a last-minute deal for an S Class, and that babe’s in the trunk? Maybe someone wanted us to be stuck with her, just so this Anderson guy could get on our case.”
I frowned, looking to Cullen for backup. He didn’t provide it. He nodded, like it wasn’t a dumbass theory.
In fact, all the guys were looking at me. Ganging up on me.
I shook my head. “That’s not possible. The tip was—”
“No. Maybe she’s playing you, Nix. You ever think of that?” Jet said, getting all in my face. “You’re too close to her now, thinking with your dick, your head is all messed up and your judgment’s off. Maybe that’s where she wants you to be. So they can catch you with your pants down.”
I’d had enough of these motherfuckers.
I knew from our childhood fistfights, Jet never covered his left. I came at him, my first making contact with his jaw. He reeled back, and at the same moment, Zain grabbed me from behind so I couldn’t get another punch in. “Hey, cool it!” Cullen shouted.
Didn’t matter. I was done anyway.
Jet rubbed his jaw, shocked. Since seventeen, I’d been all about protecting my little brother. It’d been ten years since I’d thrown a real punch at him like that. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, spitting blood onto his chin.
Shit. I hadn’t meant to hit him that hard.
Cullen shoved me in the chest. “Go outside, man. Take a break.”
Head down, I stormed outside. But not for a break. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see Liv.
I didn’t need her to prove to me who she was. I just wanted to be with someone who needed me.
Chapter Eight
Olivia
I sat straight up in the tub, my heart racing. I had no idea how long I’d been there, but now, the water was cold, the pads of my fingers definitely pruned. Slipping twice on the slick surface as I scuttled out, I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around my body, then looked around.
There was no one I could really trust, was there?
Maybe this was the lion’s den. And I’d walked straight into it.
I knew now that I’d been kidnapped by a biker gang. And Nix was a biker.
Teeth chattering and vision running wild, I pushed open the door, expecting to be grabbed at any moment. The thought of those hands on me, those men rendering me helpless…
A sob caught in my throat.
I couldn’t bear to have that happen again. If it did, I’d die.
I flattened myself against the wall in the hallway, taking step after small step toward the bedroom. Tears scattered down my cheeks as I inched my way there, clutching the towel at my chest.
When I reached the room, I was surprised that I’d made it that far. I lunged for the bag I’d brought, threw my towel to the floor, and changed into the first things I could find—a tank top and skirt. Scuffing into ballet flats, I finger-combed my hair, hefted the bag on my shoulder, and ran to the front door.
I had no idea where I’d go, or what I’d do. I could go home to my father, wherever that was. But I didn’t want to. He’d gotten me into this. And now?
Now I had no one. Or it sure felt that way.
Letting a sob out, I reached for the door handle.
Just then, I heard the sound of a motorcycle, growing louder, before coming to an abrupt stop.
Swallowing hard, I tilted the blinds in the door’s window and looked down past the staircase leading up to the apartment.
Nix was just climbing off of his motorcycle, under the carport.
Oh, God. I was too late.
I looked around frantically. Then I ran to the counter, lifting a large blade from the knife block. Wrapping my trembling hand around the handle, I dropped my bag and scrambled deeper into the apartment, to the farthest point away from the front door—the bedroom.
I scanned the room for a place to hide, and finding nothing, stumbled onto the mattress. I climbed into the very corner of it, kneeling, holding the knife in my shaking hands, ready to strike the first person who came through the door.
I heard a faraway knock on the front door, in the kitchen. A moment later, his gruff voice said, “Hey! Open up.”
Of course. I’d twisted the lock on the top of the door from the inside, to be safe. He’d told me to. Didn’t he have the key to open it?
When I heard the key in the lock, I knew the answer. A moment later, the front door clicked open. I heard his heavy boots on the kitchen floor, and the rustle of a paper bag.
“Liv?” He called out. “ How was the bath? Brought you something to eat.”
The last thing I wanted was food.
I wanted to believe that he was gentle, good. That he truly wanted to protect me.
I closed my eyes hard, daring to believe that if I opened them again, I’d find out this was all a nightmare.
But then I heard his boots in the hallway. Coming closer. “Liv?”
And then I heard the sound that until then, I’d only heard in movies. But it was unmistakable.
It was the sound of a gun being cocked.
My pulse pounded in my veins. I sucked in a breath as he appeared in the doorway, his gun pointed directly at me.
Chapter Nine
Phoenix
“Liv?”
When I came home, not even two hours after I’d left, I expected to find Olivia on the sofa, watching TV in the pajamas she’d gotten from her house.
I didn’t expect this.
She hadn’t opened the door when I knocked, which set off alarm bells. But then I figured, she’d had a hard few days. Maybe she’d fallen asleep in the tub.
When I opened the door, I saw her bag on the floor, its contents scattered everywhere.
In the hallway, there was water everywhere. Liv wasn’t in the bathroom, but the light was on, and the tub was still full of water.
Then I heard a noise from the bedroom. It sounded like a frightened whimper.
At that point, I drew my pistol and took a step forward, not knowing what the hell I’d stumble in on. Maybe the assholes had gotten to her.
Instead, I saw Liv, huddled on the mattress, her hair falling in wet ropes on her face, as pale as a ghost. Her eyes were as wide as golf balls.
And she was holding a knife. Ready to hurt someone.
“Liv?” I said again. “What—”
“Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked.
I looked around, wondering who’d done this to her, and where the danger was, until I realized she was speaking to me.
After all this. She was afraid of me?
I put the safety back on my gun and laid it on the dresser, backing away from it to show her I meant no harm. I held up my hands. “Liv. It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “It’s not! How can you say that to me? How can you be such a convincing liar?”
“A liar?” I took a step closer, and she flinched. “I’ve never lied to you.”
That didn’t seem to help. Doubt hung in her eyes. She gripped the knife harder. Pressed herself against the wall.
She’d been fine when I left her. A little sad that she couldn’t remember things but not scared to death. Now, she looked like one touch would send her shooting to the ceiling. What could have happened in such a short time to have changed everything?
Suddenly it occurred to me. “Did you remember something?”
Her breathing was mile-a-minute, but she didn’t answer.
“Liv—”
“Leave me alone!” She held the knife pointed out toward me, wielding it unsurely, almost like a sword. “Please!”
The way she was holding it and shaking, I knew she was probably going to hurt herself before she hurt me. I made my voice as gentle as possible, “I’m not the enemy here.”
She started to cry. “How do I know that?”
I took one hand from surrender position and wiped at my beard, thinking. “You might have only known me a few days. B
ut, have I hurt you yet?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know you.” Her voice was hollow.
I took another step into the room. “All right. Well, what do you want to know?”
She swallowed. I thought she’d tell me to get the hell away from her again, but instead, she drew in her lower lip. God, have mercy, that innocent act pushed all my buttons. She asked in a timid voice, “Do you have any family?”
I nodded, put my hands down and leaned against the wall. “Well, yeah. Actually. I have a younger brother named Jet. Jetson. Believe it or not, I named him. My mother used to show me old cartoons, about this family in space. And one day, before I was born, I told her she should name him that. She was into alternative names, as you could probably tell. Named me Phoenix because that’s where she and my dad fell in love.” I shrugged, then added, “Also probably where I was conceived.”
She studied me, letting her lip fall free from her teeth, and let out a breath. “You’re from Arizona?”
“Brawley, California, really. Little town on the California-Mexico border. Famous for their carrots. Parents moved there before I was born.”
Her breathing was slowing, and I could see some color popping back into those cheeks of hers. “What made you come here?”
“My dad was a drunk asshole. Used to beat on my mom. And on us kids, whenever we got in his way. When I was in high school, I got into mechanics. Like, really into it. There was this biker club who used to bring their bikes to the Vo-tech for us to work on. Toughest, meanest sons of bitches you’d ever see.”
I grinned, thinking of the way those guys had taken me under their wing. “I was just a scrawny nobody, only fifteen years old. But those guys? They were all like dads to me. They caught me with bruises and were determined to make sure no one ever messed with me again. They taught me how to defend myself, got me working out with them. And then one day, when I was seventeen, my father went on a tear with my mom, and I beat the shit out of him. Told him if he ever touched her again, I’d kill him.”
She stared at me, lowering the knife to her side. “What happened then?”
I shrugged. “My mom got sick with throat cancer. She died, and then Jet and I lit out of there, drifting around until I found the Cobras.”
