Chapter Eight
Reaper
Shit. The place is carnage. Blood and bodies are everywhere. Knives scattered and furniture torn to shreds. Bullet holes pepper the walls and water is squirting down from a punctured pipe in the ceiling.
It is no wonder Scarlet is shaking in my embrace. She’d seen things a woman should never have to see. Seen me at my absolute most vicious, murderous worst, revenge and my brand of justice ruling my actions, and my hands soaking once more in the blood of others.
“Hey, it’s over now.” I stroke her back and watch as Tank helps Consuela to her feet. She’s trembling and her eyes are wide. There is a smear of blood on her cheek and her t-shirt is ripped around the neck.
“Good job,” Jock says, hands on hips and looking around. “We showed them, huh.”
“This place is a fucking crime scene on speed,” Ghost says. “We got to turn it to ash.”
“Yeah, I know. Damn fucking shame. I like this place.” Jock frowns and looks at me. “Your woman okay?”
I’m about to reply that she’s not my woman but the words won’t form in my mouth.
I’m possessive. I do want her to be mine.
I sure as hell don’t want anyone else to even look at her.
I make a low growling sound. “No thanks to the asshole who put a blade to her neck.” I maneuver her so I can see her throat.
There’s a thin red line but luckily the surface of her perfect skin isn’t cut.
But even that tiny mark sickens me and I’m glad the son of a bitch is dead as a doornail.
“I’m okay.” Scarlet looks up into my face then turns to Consuela. “What about her?”
Consuela nods. “Still breathing.” She manages a half smile. “Which I didn’t think I would be a few minutes ago. I’m sure glad you guys turned up.”
“Me too.” Jock nods at the door. “Everyone out. Gunshots might have been heard. Cops could be on the way. This needs flooring and all evidence burnt.”
As I help Scarlet outside, my club brothers get busy stacking up bodies and spreading petrol. Bikes are dumped in a ditch—damn waste of good steel—and weapons and wallets collected.
“We need to stay back,” I say. “This will go up like a tinderbox.”
We all stand at a safe distance as Ghost goes inside with a flaming rag. Within seconds he is running out of the safe house, fire licking at his heels and curling around the doorframe like hungry fingers.
I hold Scarlet tighter. She snuggles against me and curls her hands into my cut. Holding her feels like the most natural thing in the world. I don’t ever want to let go. But I will.
A window explodes and she jumps. I firm up my embrace, wanting to take everything away that could ever hurt or scare her again.
Within minutes the building is a furnace. Thick black smoke billows into the sky. It is wild and rampant and the flimsy roof quickly surrenders to the heat, collapsing in on itself with a giant creak and then a colossal bang.
Scarlet’s eyes are wide, the flames of the blood-soaked inferno reflecting in them. Suddenly I want her away from the place she’d almost died in. The place I’d brought her to ... the mortal danger I’d left her in.
“Come on,” I say, nodding at my bike. “Let’s go.”
She looks from me to Consuela. “And her?”
“No.” Consuela shakes her head. “You have all done so much for me. I want to get as far away from Denver as possible.”
I nodded. Didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“Where will you go, little one?” Tank asks her.
“To my aunt’s. She’s in Phoenix. She’ll let me stay while I sort myself out.”
“No more drug smuggling.” Tank frowns.
“I didn’t do it willingly in the first place.” She shudders.
“But how do you feel? I mean, physically,” Scarlet asks and steps up to Consuela. She puts her hands on Consuela’s shoulders and studies her face with such compassion my heart squeezes.
“Thanks to you, Doctor, I feel okay. Weak, low-grade headache, but I’ll live.”
“Yes, I think you will, you’re over the worst of the withdrawal. And you’re eating and drinking now so you should be okay, back to normal within the week if you rest and keep up good hydration.”
“I can do Phoenix,” Tank says with a shrug. “Will take a full turn of the clock but it’s doable.”
“You’d drive me?” Consuela turned to him.
“Never happier than on a road trip.” He kind of grins and then winks at her. “It’ll be fun and less chance of any assholes finding out where you are. Flying or buses have risks when you want to be beneath the radar.”
“Yes, that’s true.” She nods. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” She turns back to Scarlet and throws her arms around her. “And you, you are an angel and you were there just when I needed you. I’m sorry for all the fuss and—”
“Stop.” Scarlet returns the hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You were a victim of an evil crime orchestrated by evil men, but you’re a survivor, that much is clear, and you should always be proud of that. And I hope it all works out in Phoenix.”
The two women hug again and I turn away. I’d never known kindness like Scarlet’s. She has so much capacity to care and love her fellow human beings without question and without judgement. Next to her, I am nothing more than a bit of crap on someone’s boot.
“Come on, guys, we’re done here,” Jock shouts and straddles his bike. “Let’s take off. Now.”
The bikers quickly follow suit and engines rev and exhaust puff up to join the smoke.
Scarlet climbs on behind me, her slender arms wrapping around my waist. “Where are we going?”
“To a motel, away from this lot. You need to rest after what you’ve been through.” And then I’d take her back to the hospital so she could live out her life in peace. I was bad news for her, bad news with a big fucking capital B.
We leave the burning house behind, dodging potholes until we reach the main highway. Tank takes off south, the bikers go north, and I slip onto the highway east. I know a little place where there are always vacancies. Nothing fancy but it will do.
Just after I’ve taken the junction, two fire trucks steam past, sirens blaring and lights flashing. We’d got out of there just in time. The brutal chaotic reckoning we’d left behind should be a smouldering heap by now and all they’d have to fight was a pile of ash and bones.
The motel, Mountain Inn, was set away from the road. It had a backdrop of the Rockies and was painted green and brown with a sign boasting an outdoor pool with Jacuzzi.
“Wait here.” I climb off my bike and wander to the reception. I pay cash for a room for one night, then grab a leaflet that promises “buy one get one free” pizza delivery.
When I get back to the bike, Scarlet is standing with her face turned to the trees and taking long deep breaths.
“I got us a room at the end.”
“Okay.” She opens her eyes. “You need a shower.”
“I do?” I frown.
“Yes, you’re covered in blood, Reaper. Someone else’s blood. That’s a biohazard.”
I touch my face. It is gritty and matted over my stubble. “Yeah, I can do that.” I hand her the pizza leaflet. “You see what you want to eat.”
“I’m not sure I can eat anything right now.” She presses her flat belly.
“You need to. You’ve used up a lot of energy and adrenaline, you’ll crash otherwise.”
She doesn’t answer and we go to the room. It’s big, with two king-sized beds, a TV mounted on the wall, and a long table with a desk at one end. The bathroom door is open, the tile floor green and the shower curtain has tiny pinecones on it. It will do while we catch our breath.
Scarlet goes to a coffee machine and takes out the jug. “Want one?”
“Sure.” I drag off my t-shirt and after she’s filled the jug I drop it in the sink. It needs a good wash.
And unlike my hands, the blood would come off. Me, I was stacking up sins the way most people stacked up books. But at least I hadn’t gotten Scarlet killed. She’d witnessed me on a killing spree but she was still breathing, her heart still beating.
I would never have forgiven myself if she’d been hurt, or worse. I would have hated myself until the end of time. Scarlet is the real deal, a decent human being who I don’t deserve to call mine.
****
Scarlet
I sip the coffee. My hands have finally stopped shaking.
Long ago I’d taught myself some deep-breathing techniques to handle the aftermath of one of Billy’s rampages, and they’d gone on to help after particularly traumatic or violent cases in the ER.
I’d done them now, while Reaper was showering. They always helped.
He appears in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His tan skin and dark body hair is a stark contrast to the white material. Damn, the man is a hot ball of sin who knows exactly how to push my buttons.
I swallow. How can I be thinking of sex now? After the awful events of the day.
My body doesn’t seem to care and I press my thighs together as I watch him walk to the mirror and run his hands through his hair, his idea of combing it. He removes the wet dressing and replaces it with a dry one. The wound is healing well.
The road rumbles in the distance and nearer someone shouts about car keys. I ignore it all and walk up behind Reaper. I wrap my arms around his warm, still-damp torso, and pressed my cheek to the center of the cross inked onto his back.
He stiffens slightly and holds my forearms. “What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell?” I close my eyes and inhale his scent. Man and sex and a hint of soap. “I want you.”
“No, you don’t.” His voice was gruff. “Not really.”
He turns me around so my back is against the wall and looms over me.
I look up into his face. A drip trickles from his hair to his temple. “Reaper?”
“I’m no good for you. I almost got you killed today.”
“That’s not how I see it. You saved me.”
His lips curl downward. “If I hadn’t taken you to that house, you wouldn’t have been in danger.” He pauses, sucks in a breath. “You wouldn’t have had guns pointed at you. You wouldn’t have had a knife at your neck. You wouldn’t have had to kill.” He shakes his head. “That was all my doing.”