Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Ash grabbed me, trying to berate sense into me, but I shoved him off. As far as he knows, I’m going to Sylvie’s house. He yelled at me to stay, fearful of my lies, but I wasn’t letting him slow me down.
When the service gate opens, I slam my foot on the accelerator. The car whirs past a patrolling officer’s car, but I hold steady behind the ultra-tinted windows. No doubt the officer will call this in to Sheriff Lennon, dismissing it as my father leaving the property.
Avoiding the main part of town, I zoom past Victoria Falls, and when I ascend Mountains Road, I breathe out with relief.
No one’s tailing me.
At one of the highest points, I skid the car to a stop and race out. I run down the slope where Dax had taken me on his motorcycle. It’s his favorite spot in the mountains, and if he’s hiding out, he has to be here.
“Dax! Dax!”
My chest heaves and I scan every nook and cranny. The rock formation we sat on is vacant, and the majestic view is cold without him.
Unable to waste a second, I get back in the car.
Sheriff Lennon said his team hadn’t spoken to Dax, meaning he wasn’t at the clubhouse. Oh my gosh, I hope he got out. If he satisfied his brother with loot from my house, surely he’s free to leave The Scorpions?
My heart pounds.
Maybe Lance rewarded him with being able to stay at his old house?
I step on the gas, and fly the car into Logan’s Point. I don’t care how much of a scene I make, revving this luxury car around the neighborhood. All I want is to see Dax.
Remembering how much Dax had to bash the front door open, I opt for the one window not boarded up. It squeaks open and I hurl myself inside.
“Dax?” I creep through the house, wary of any noises. When I get to the bedroom, and see the cabinet is still placed where I hid behind, my heart sinks.
I scrunch my eyes closed and slide down a moldy wall.
It can’t be.
Is he still at the clubhouse?
With an uncontainable retch, I force myself up. On wobbly feet, I slip back through the window.
“Get out of my way!” I shout at a group, who circle the Porsche.
They jump back, and I stomp my way into the car and slam the door.
When I pull up at The Scorpions Clubhouse, a vortex of sickness thunders up from my stomach. I gulp it down, my vision blurring white.
I pull the chain out from under my sweatshirt and rub the St. Christopher pendant.
Nope. I gotta do this.
I’m not leaving him.
Tucking Dax’s necklace back under my sweatshirt, and wiping my sweaty palms over my thighs, I remind myself there’s a tracker in my car and law enforcement will eventually follow. My parents should be done arguing with the sheriff by now and let them get on my trail.
I walk over the chain-link fence and down the cracked driveway of the clubhouse. It’s eerily quiet. No raucous bar noise echo from inside. I’d swear no one was here, except there are motorcycles cluttering the garage entrance.
My heart misses a beat.
Dax’s bike is here.
I swallow the bulging lump in my throat and teeter on my toes. The bar inside is empty.
Okay, Vanessa. You’ve come this far.
I push on the door and it creaks open. I cringe at the noise, waiting for someone to pounce. Over my shoulder, I imagine McCoy. But thankfully, it’s still only me and my nerves.
Edging my way inside, I pad across the concrete floor on tippy toes. I make my way across the bar into the rear, darkened area. Through the doorway, I pivot in indecision.
Left or right?
When I turn left, I inhale through my nose, muffling a shriek. Someone runs into me, and my heart rate accelerates, determining I’m done for.
There’s a gasp, and then a female’s voice. “Crap! What are you doing here?”
As the shock wears off, I double-take at Stella.
She grabs my arms and her overlined eyes widen. “Do you have a death wish?”
“I… I…” I clear my throat and strengthen my footing. “Where’s Dax?”
She yanks on my arm, tugging me into a room on the right. She shuts the door behind us and glues a pointed index finger to her lips.
I look around the small space, housing a dingy twin bed and a metal chair in the corner, and gulp.
“It’s Dax’s room,” she whispers. “We’ll let him come to us.”
A shiver jitters down my body. “Are you in trouble?”
“Things are manic around here,” she replies. “Dax lets me hide out here whenever Hugo drags me along. But today is especially intense.”
“It seemed like no one was around.”
“A few are in the basement, and some are down the back. I took the opportunity to go to the bathroom while it was quiet.”
I chew on my fingernail. “But Dax is here?”
Her eyes well as she nods. A sob croaks out of her, and she blurts, “I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t mean for them to find out.”
She latches onto me, and her urgency has my body in a chokehold.
“Wha… Wha… What are you talking about?”
“One night when Dax wasn’t here, the other guys wouldn’t leave me alone.” Her bottom lip quivers. “I just wanted to scroll on my phone to ignore them.”
My mouth stays ajar, unable to grasp what has her so upset.
“I couldn’t stop staring at this post.” She sniffs hard, releasing my arms. “Hugo wanted to know what had my attention. Then Lance snatched my phone.”
My teeth chatter, watching the melancholy droop her face.
“It was a poll, asking who should be your boyfriend.”
My heart drops to my gut, which contracts and twists. I moan, holding my stomach, sickened at the idea of Dax’s brother looking at pictures of me.
“Lance said he recognized you,” Stella mumbles, her eyeliner running down her cheek. “He wanted me to dish on you. I’m sorry, he scared the crap outta me.”
Adrenaline races through my veins as I keep pressure on my stomach.
“Once I checked out your page and realized you were Tom Ashworth’s daughter, Lance had the guys look for Dax,” Stella says. “He wanted to know why he had lied about you, and wanted Dax to make it up to him.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I trace over his pendant under my sweatshirt. “I knew he was forced into it.”
Stella moans, raking her hands through her hair. “If only I’d never been on that stupid app.”
I shush her. “It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up.”
She wipes away her tears, creating large black circles under her eyes. “Dax just looks so crushed. I hate that I did this to him.”
I shudder, watching the hurt and love in her eyes. What am I supposed to say? I don’t want to know if she’s still hung up on him.
Instinctively, my heart leaps into my throat. Heavy boots thunder in the hallway, followed by the boisterous laughs of burly men. As I back away, three hearty knocks hammer against the closed door.
“Stella, where you at?”
Stella’s chest heaves as she freezes in place. With no time to act, the handle turns and the door bursts open.
My eyes lock with Lance, and a sly smile creeps across his face.
“Why, hello, Sasha.” His tone is gravelly as cigarette smoke puffs out of his mouth. “Or, should I say, Vanessa?”
Behind him, McCoy and Stitch take up the rest of the hallway.
Lance takes another drag of his cigarette and then points it at Stella. “Thanks again, Stell. You keep bringing her to us.”
Stella’s teeth chatter as she shrinks away from him.
Lance motions to McCoy. “Get Ashworth’s kid, would ya?”
I shriek, fumbling backwards onto the flimsy bed. McCoy thuds toward me, yanking me up by the arm.
Lance steps into the room, staring down at Stella. “Beat it.”
About to shatter into pieces, Stella scampers out of the room.
Lance nudges Stitch, ordering, “Follow her and take her to Hugo.”
When Stitch leaves, Lance sets his sights on me. He grabs the front of my sweatshirt, pulling me close. The bulging veins in his neck warp the artwork inked into his skin. He takes another puff of his cigarette, and the chains around his neck jingle with his exhale.
My blood boils at the sight of his St. Christopher pendant. “Why do you wear that pendant? You hate your mother.”
Lance smirks, baring his teeth. “Exactly. It’s a reminder.”
More footsteps pound along the hallway. My shoulders slump as Boscoe appears at the doorway, but then my emotions scatter. Dax stands alongside him.
Dax’s eyes widen at the sight of me. “No!”
I whimper as Lance’s hand squeezes the back of my neck.
Dax’s skin is ghostly pale, and dark bags hang under his eyes. There’s a strain in his neck as he swallows hard, and his eyes dart between his brother’s face and mine.
“Let her go,” he tells Lance. There’s a tremor in his stance, and his shoulders droop.
Lance laughs cruelly, pulling an arm around my waist. I yelp, which delights him further.
“Don’t do this,” Dax pleads, gradually lifting a hand. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Oh, I know, baby bro,” Lance replies. “But I didn’t grab her. She walked in on her own.”
Dax’s chin drops, and his eyes land on me with horror.
Lance’s hand slides up from my neck and into my hair. “So I guess I get my cake and eat it too.”
Agony groans out of Dax as his hand snakes into his jacket and holds his side. “Just let her go.”
Lance shoves me forward, and I struggle to stay on my feet. For a brief moment, a swell of relief fills me as Dax steps toward me. But it’s swiftly taken away when Lance snaps his fingers.
“McCoy, get some rope,” Lance orders.
Boscoe drags the metal chair along the concrete floor, stopping it beside me. With his meaty hand, he pushes me back into it.
McCoy approaches, licking his lips and unfurling rope around his hand. “Oh, I’ll enjoy this.”
Dax moves in fast. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
Boscoe holds out an arm, halting Dax. “Hold your roll, kid.”
Uncontrollably, sobs fill my throat. I try to swallow them, but begin choking and wheezing as McCoy ties my wrists to the chair arms.
“I held back last time, McCoy,” Dax threatens, nudging to pass Boscoe.
McCoy smirks. His jagged, unclipped fingernails scratch my flesh. “Malone, I treated you like the child you are. I won’t be making the same mistake again.”