White Rose Painted Red (The Painted Sinners Duet #1)

1. Run, Baby, Run – Aurora

1

RUN, BABY, RUN

AURORA

T he windshield wipers thump as they try to keep up with the torrential downpour, matching the throbbing in my temple.

A whine comes from the back seat, and I glance in the rearview at my Aussie girl, her blue and brown eyes staring accusingly at the rain spraying into the car.

The passenger window in this shitbox has been stuck in the down position for miles, but we can’t stop. Not yet.

“It’s okay, Ellie,” I say. “We’re going to be okay.”

I lift a trembling hand to my cheek and wince when my fingers brush the fresh cut there. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Now that there’s no adrenaline burning away the pain, I can feel everywhere that bastard touched me. The sting in my cheek. The gnawing pain in my ribs. The thick ache every time I swallow.

With a shaky breath, I turn up “Alkaline” by Sleep Token. It filters through the car in familiar, soothing notes but does little to dull my racing thoughts.

Between the complete and total lack of streetlights out here and the rainwater absolutely flooding my windshield, I can’t see shit on these mountain roads. If it were any other night, I’d have already pulled over, but I have to keep going. The more distance I put between us and Jesse, the better.

Jagged rocks rise from the darkness on my right, and I grip the wheel tighter, fighting to keep us between the lines I can barely make out on the rainwashed road.

My gaze returns, for a second, to Ellie in the back seat. I almost lost her tonight, but never again. I don’t know what I would’ve done…

That’s a lie, I do know.

I swallow hard, banishing the thoughts before they can sink their claws in.

We got away. That’s all that matters.

Turning, I reach back to pet Ellie. “It’s just water, Ellie girl. We’ll be in Boone soon.”

In the college town, surrounded by people my own age, it’ll be easier to blend in. Harder for him to find us.

I try to make out a road sign as we pass, but I don’t recognize the names of the places, and the nearest one is still at least sixty miles away.

“At least I hope we’ll be in Boone soon,” I mutter to myself, gripping the wheel tighter as I adjust myself in the seat, sitting higher to get a clearer view of the road.

My phone’s GPS has been sketchy in this weather, and I’m not sure I took the right exit a few miles back. For all I know, we could be going back the way we came. I shudder. I’ve been the only one out here for a while, and the farther I go, the narrower the road gets.

It doesn’t help that the cell service just keeps getting shittier and fucking shittier.

Was it the right call to head into the Blue Ridge Mountains instead of going to Charlotte? That’s where all my friends live, but thanks to Jesse, I haven’t talked to them in over a year. Charlotte would probably be the first place he goes to look for me anyway.

And my parents’ place is out of the question.

Ellie nudges her nose into the back of my arm, trying to come up front again as I drive into another steep bend.

“Ellie, you have to stay back there.”

I turn to gently push her back into the seat, knowing she’s only trying to help. She can always sense when I’m on edge.

Forest replaces the guardrails that warned of a steep drop to my right, and I sigh, letting myself relax a little as one song blends into the next on my playlist. When the opening notes of “Shelter” begin to play, the pelting rain softens beneath the cover of long-limbed trees. A small smirk tugs at my lips at the serendipitous timing.

“See, Ellie? That’s better.”

Ellie barks a call of warning just as we clear a sharp turn and my headlights illuminate something big and dark on the road.

Oh god.

There’s someone right in the middle of my lane!

“Shit,” I yell, slamming on my brakes, but between my bald tires and the slick pavement, I can’t keep control of the car and we skid straight toward the giant idiot.

His head whips in my direction, piercing eyes wide as they catch in my headlights.

No. No. No.

“Watch out!” I shout, grinding the brake pedal down so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t go straight through the rusted-out floorboard.

I scream as his body hits the hood of my car with a sickening thump and rolls violently into the windshield and over the roof, cracking glass and denting metal.

Through the rearview, I watch the shadow of him hit the road in a motionless heap and nauseating dread roils in my stomach.

Ellie barks, snapping my attention back to the road.

A thick lump lodges in my throat, choking off my scream as the other shoe drops.

“Oh fuck!”

My hands want to lock on the wheel, but I force my right arm out to protect Ellie from being thrown as I brace for the second impact.

The front end of my car impales the back of a sleek black vehicle parked at the side of the road, hurtling my body forward. The airbags deploy, slamming me back into the seat so hard my breath rattles in my lungs and my ears ring.

Blinking hard, I ignore the sting of the reopened wound in my cheek and the bone-deep ache starting to pulse in my forearm, shoving back the deflating bag with shaking, numb hands. Ellie’s name forms on my lips, but no sound comes out as I gasp for air.

Finally, mercifully, I drag in a ragged breath, filling my lungs with exhaust smoke and hot metal. I cough hard, turning in my seat, my right arm blindly reaching into the back. “Ellie?”

She steps unsteadily back up onto the back seats from the footwell, pacing the cramped space as she whines. I run my hand over her gray-speckled fur. It doesn’t look like anything is broken. I don’t see any blood. She’s just scared.

She’s okay. She’s okay.

My pulse evens out as I thank whatever gods will hear me for saving my Ellie girl twice in one night.

She pushes her cold nose into my palm, sniffing, checking to see if I’m okay, too.

“I’m alright, Ellie.”

At least, I think I am.

Eyes burning, I peer through the steam rising from my engine, finding a black Dodge Charger with a busted back end.

Oh my fucking god.

My eyes jerk to my side mirror, searching the dark road behind us.

The guy!

I fumble to grasp the handle to push open the door and get out. Ice-cold rain wets my hair and clothes in seconds.

“Ellie, stay. ”

I blink, squinting in the dim red glow of my taillights, trying to find?—

There.

My throat constricts as I take in the shadowed lump twenty feet from me.

The man groans, and I could cry with relief at the sound.

Holy fuck, he’s alive .

“Don’t move!” I blurt, rushing over to him on shaky legs. “Your back or neck could be broken. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I lost control of the car.”

The rain starts to let up, and I kneel in my ripped jeans on the wet asphalt next to him.

His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, covering his left eye. I reach over to him, trying to get it out of his face with trembling fingers.

His head lolls to the side.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

I gasp when his blue eyes open and fix on me, and like a punch to the gut, I can’t breathe.

A steady stream of blood flows from a deep cut on his brow, carving a path past a jaw sharp enough to hone steel. It streaks down his tattooed neck in a river of watered-down red and pools in the collar of his worn leather jacket.

Head wounds always bleed more, I tell myself.

It’s not that bad. It’s totally not that bad.

He bares his teeth, bracing himself as he tries to sit up.

“I don’t think you should move,” I repeat in case he didn’t hear me.

He shakes his head, and I notice more tattoos adorning the skin there. From his temples all the way around to where his skull meets the pavement like a Greek crown branded in black ink—visible through the close-shaved hair on the sides of his head.

He lets out a wet cough, and I tear my eyes away from the intricate whorls of ink, tracing a path down his pierced nose to his mouth, praying he isn’t coughing up blood.

The man’s lips are cut and bleeding at one edge, but he doesn’t seem to have any visibly major injuries. His lips twist down into a sneer as he finally manages to push himself all the way up.

“ Think ,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

What am I supposed to do?

I half wonder if I should just throw myself off the cliffside now or wait until after help comes.

I’m not insured, which means I am wholeheartedly fucked.

My breaths catch on a tight feeling in my chest and it feels like the air I’m pulling hard into my lungs isn’t getting where it needs to, and my head spins. I breathe harder. Faster. Trying to soothe the tension in my chest.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I’m able to clear my racing thoughts enough to see what actually matters.

He’s hurt.

I desperately pat down my jeans for my phone and remember it’s still in my car.

“Shit. I—I need to call an ambulance.”

Before I can get to my feet, he snatches my wrist, jerking me back down. “No,” he growls, coughing again. “Calm the fuck down.”

“Seven, what the hell happened?” The baritone voice echoes off the rocks, and my stomach drops as two men emerge like dark shadows from the tree line.

They rush around the side of the car I crashed into, and I scramble back to my feet as they approach.

“I’m so sorry,” I start. “I swear, I didn’t mean to hit him. I tried to brake, but he was?—”

Before I can finish, the bigger guy of the two rushes past me, knocking into my shoulder hard enough that I almost fall on my ass. I clench my jaw but say nothing as they kneel next to the guy they’re calling Seven.

The smaller one reaches to examine the cut on his forehead, but Seven slaps his hand away with annoyance pinching between his brows. “Elijah, I’m fine.”

The giant ignores Seven’s protests, jerking down the collar of his jacket, patting him down for injury. “You were hit by a fucking car, Sev.”

“I said I’m fine, Atticus,” Seven snaps and pushes him back, but the rough movement has him cursing, his torso hunching inward. He reaches for his side, and the silver rings on his tattooed fingers glint in the moonlight. “Just bruised.”

His blue eyes drift to me. I swallow hard, my teeth beginning to chatter as the cold wetness seeps into my bones, lending a sharp chill to the dread already pooling in my gut.

Atticus lurches to his feet and turns, towering over me with his dark eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he seethes.

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around myself. To cower.

“It really was an accident. The road is just so…so fucking slippery, and he was standing right in?—”

He steps closer into my bubble and the sentence breaks off as he bends his six-and-a-half-foot frame down to snarl into my face. “Have you been drinking?”

“What? No . No, I haven’t, like I said, I didn’t see?—”

“Back off her, Atticus,” Seven says, brushing dirt from his jacket. “She tried to swerve. She’s lucky she didn’t drive into a damn tree. I’m fucking fine . Can’t say the same about the car, though.”

Atticus lets out a frustrated growl as he turns to inspect our cars.

My ancient Ford Focus is worse off, with the blue hood crumpled and the engine still steaming. I doubt it will even run after this. It’s probably a total write-off.

Sleep Token still filters through the speakers, filling the quiet of the night.

At least that part of the car still works , I think bitterly.

Atticus runs a hand over the neatly trimmed beard that defines his square jawline, and I see blood and dirt caked into his knuckles, no doubt from the rough pat-down he gave his friend.

“It’s not that bad,” the other guy, Elijah, says, his tone clearly aiming to calm his friend. His eyes flit to me as he extends a hand to Seven, who takes it, letting his friend pull him up to his feet.

Elijah pushes damp, dark curls away from his face, streaking ruddy dirt across his forehead. “Are you hurt?”

It takes me a second to register that he’s talking to me. I blink, taking stock. My neck is stiff as hell, my chest and forearm burn, and there’s a dull ache forming in my temples, but other than that…

“I think I’m okay.”

“Is that yours?” Atticus asks, turning his heated stare my way as he inclines his head to something interrupting the dark surface of the road.

“ Shit ,” I mutter, my shoulders sagging as I spot a very familiar bra, and then a band tee, and then a couple errant socks, and my fucking vibrator. The items, now drenched and dirty, lead to where my cheap-ass suitcase is upturned on the side of the road, the rest of its contents piled in the mud. It must’ve been flung out of the busted passenger window when I hit their car.

I want to scream. Or cry. But instead, I drop my head back and sigh. Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

I trudge over, snatching the items from the road with my teeth clenched tight and the burn of unshed tears stinging in my eyes. How fucking embarrassing.

I toss it all into the case and try to zip it up, but every time I do, the zipper just comes apart at the other end. I give up, lifting the whole damn thing and chucking it back into the passenger seat of my car with a vulgar sound in the back of my throat.

One of the guys murmurs something to another, and I close my eyes for one blissful second, pretending they didn’t just watch me shove eight pairs of soggy panties into my bag.

The one who should be on his way to the hospital lifts his brows, his head cocked to one side like he isn’t quite sure what to make of me.

I realize, seeing them all standing there in the dark, that I really shouldn’t have turned my back to them at all. I’m alone out here. I was too busy thinking about whether the guy I hit was all right and if they were going to call the cops, that I didn’t register the potential threat.

Atticus strides over, and I step back, closer to the car, to Ellie who barks from the back seat, pushing her nose against the glass. She’s a good listener, but if this guy comes any closer, my command for her to stay in the car won’t stop her from trying to protect me.

He roughly pushes a few wet strands of hair from his forehead where they escaped from the soaked bun of dirty blond hair atop his head. Between the hair, the short beard, his insane height, and Scandinavian features, he looks like a damn Viking god. And not the fun, trickster kind. No . The kind that raids and pillages. A warrior.

Dangerous.

His expression shifts, something like recognition in his hooded, brown eyes as they carve a path over the injury on my cheek and down my neck. I cross my arms over my chest, gripping opposite elbows like a shield. The cut and bruises could just as easily have come from the crash, so I don’t bother trying to hide them.

Besides, I’m done covering for Jesse.

“What are you staring at?”

The muscles in his jaw tense when he cocks his head to one side, his stare intensifying even more until I feel like I’m under a fucking microscope.

“What are we going to do about you?”