Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
ATHENA
Iroll over in bed, needing the warmth of my big, strong biker before I can wake up fully. Only… he’s not there. I peek one eye open, then the other, before sitting up. He’s definitely not in the room, and I somehow sense he’s not in the house at all. I don’t feel his warm, protective presence.
It’s not like Wraith to leave without telling me, but then again, I haven’t known him for very long. Maybe this is what he’s really like - flakey and absent.
Sighing heavily, I try to blink the negative, distrustful thoughts away. Wraith has been so good to me, not only providing for me when I needed it, but handling me with such tenderness. Well, he’s not always tender; Wraith knows how to tease me to the brink and then wreck me with pleasure.
I make a pit stop in the bathroom to freshen up and change my clothes, humming to myself while thinking about what class I’m going to take today.
Wraith bought a subscription to a library of online courses taught by professionals at the top of their fields, and I’ve been watching a ton of intro videos to see what piques my interest.
My hand is on the doorknob when I hear something that makes every single muscle in my body tense to the point of pain. I’m completely frozen in place, still and silent, hardly daring to even breathe. Is that…?
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get her and wrangle her back where she belongs.
” My father’s voice echoes around the house, pausing slightly to hear whoever he’s talking to before continuing.
“Damn straight we’ll teach her not to run again.
The next auction is at the new place, right? Our permanent location?”
Tears spring to my eyes, and my mind reels as reality sets in. My dad is on the other side of this wall, pacing back and forth in the kitchen from the sounds of it. How did he get in? Where is Wraith? Oh, god, did my dad hurt Wraith?
That thought snaps me back into my body, and I know what I need to do. Slowly, silently, I turn the doorknob and open the door just a sliver. When I’m satisfied my father won’t see me run across the hall into Wraith’s room, I make my big move.
I take a few deep breaths once inside, then locate my trusty duffel bag.
I haven’t needed it since coming to stay with Wraith, but I’m glad I have it all the same.
Especially now. My fingers wrap around the cool metal of the 9mm I stole a few days ago, and I practice holding it properly before hiding it behind my back.
As much as I don’t want to, I know I need to confront my dad and find out how bad the situation really is. If he hurt Wraith in any way…
Rolling out my shoulders, I try to relax enough to clear my head. If I’m going to be carrying and possibly shooting a gun, I need to be sharp.
I step out into the hallway, one foot in front of the other, until I reach the kitchen. My heart pounds against my ribcage painfully as a rush of cold air runs through me.
“There she is!” my father bellows. “Sleepyhead. I almost came in to wake you up so we could get this show on the road, but I wanted you to get your beauty sleep.” The man who donated his DNA to create me grins widely, showing off his tobacco-stained teeth, more than a few of which are missing.
His eyes are big and round, his pupils dilated enough to make his irises look completely black. Whatever mix of drugs he’s on seems to have put him in a manic state. The large man sways on his feet and starts talking at me rapidly.
“Thought you could run, eh? Silly girl. Silly, silly girl.” He repeats this phrase a few times as if it really amuses him.
Each time he says it, he gets a little louder, until his face is tomato-red and he’s screaming silly girl at the top of his lungs. My father stops just as abruptly as he started, his facial features and volume returning to normal.
“Where’s Wraith?” I ask, still hiding the gun behind my back. I take a step closer, though I’m not sure if it was the right move.
“Wraith,” he spits out before blowing a raspberry like a child. “You really thought you could trust him?”
“More than I trust you.”
He narrows his eyes at me, a flicker of vengeance in his gaze. “You sure? Don’t you know by now, all bikers are the same? If you couldn’t hack it with me and the boys, you’re not cut out for this life.”
“Not all clubs are the same,” I protest, though I only have two clubs to back my theory up.
This earns me a dry, humorless laugh from my dad.
“Bullshit. All MCs are filled with thieving, whoring, selfish assholes. The only difference is if they’re lying to themselves about it or not.
At least the Sons of Destruction know the score.
Are we the bad guys? Sure, if that’s how you need to think about it.
But your little biker boyfriend isn’t innocent, either.
Did you honestly think we wouldn’t all pool our resources to find you? ”
“Pool your resources?” I repeat. “Never mind. You’re distracting me. Where the fuck is Wraith?”
“He’s fine. Who do you think let me in?”
“Not Wraith,” I say in what I hope is a confident voice.
Truthfully, I’m more rattled than I’d like to admit. Why isn’t Wraith here? He didn’t text, didn’t leave a note, didn’t wake me up to tell me where he was going. Was this really the plan all along? My father drove me straight into the arms of an accomplice?
“Afraid so, daughter. We’re going to try this whole auction thing one more time. Once the paperwork is done and you’ve completed your purpose, of course, you’ll be free to go.”
“And you think I’m just going to agree with you?”
“Doesn’t matter if you agree or not, I just need to–” He lunges at me with a syringe, and I pull the gun out, pointing it at his head. “Ha. Ha, ha, ha, okay, now things just got interesting.”
We dance around each other, sizing up the competition. My father darts to the left, then to the right, then pins me down against the counter. I hit his temple with the butt of the gun, sending him stumbling backward.
“Keep your goddamn hands off of me,” I threaten, holding the gun in front of me once more.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” he states. “You don’t have the–”
I pull the trigger, watching with satisfaction as he falls to the floor and clutches his now-bleeding right shoulder.
“Fucking BITCH,” he roars, rolling around on the kitchen floor. The heavyset man tries getting up, but he slips and lands on his ass with a frustrated grunt.
“While you’re down there,” I start, my gun still trained right on him, “tell me where the new auction house is.”
“Why the hell would I–”
I shoot the floor near his leg. He thinks it was a warning shot, but truthfully, I just don’t have very good aim. I wouldn’t mind sinking another bullet or two into the man who tried to sell me.
“Jesus Christ! You crazy-ass bitch. It’s on Monaco Lane outside of Denver.” He slams his eyes shut and curses at himself, probably for giving up the information so easily. “My men are going to come after your precious Wicked Riders. Wraith will be the first to go.”
“I thought you two were working together? Or is that story no longer convenient?”
My father grunts, looking at me with all the disdain he can muster. That’s fine. I’m sure I’m looking at him the same way. What a fucking waste of space.
The only good thing that came from tracking this piece of shit down is finding Wraith. He’s certainly not working with my dad, but where is he? I’m ashamed to admit I bought my father’s lie for a moment, but none of that explains why I woke up alone this morning.
“Stay put,” I yell. “Don’t come after me. Swear to god, I’ll…”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made yourself clear.”
“Have I? Well, just in case…” Instead of shooting him in the head, I smack him with the butt of the gun again, this time hard enough to knock him out.
As I step away from my father’s body, my mind races and folds in on itself. My ears ring and my vision blurs, but I know I need to get the fuck out of here and get help. I need to get to Wraith.
One second, I’m thinking about leaving, and the next, I’m already halfway down the block.
I seem to be losing a few minutes here and there as lies war with the truth.
The stress of the day, the week, hell, my entire life presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.
Still, my feet pound the pavement, not unlike that night I made my first escape. At least this time I have shoes on.
Before I even realize it, I’m standing in front of the Wicked Riders clubhouse.
I shove the door open and step inside, my entire body trembling from head to toe.
I’m gasping for air and soaked in sweat, looking around the darkened space frantically.
The gun I forgot I was holding slips from my grip, but I catch it before it falls.
“Whoa,” someone says from beside me.
“Gun!” another person shouts.
I try opening my mouth to defend myself, or to hand the weapon over if someone else wants to take this burden from my shaking hands, but I can’t move. A few men place their hands on their own guns, but then Wraith’s familiar voice cuts through the noise and panic.
“Stand down, men,” he says in an authoritative voice. “She’s with me.” When his comforting, warm brown eyes rest on mine, I know everything is going to be okay. “Athena, love, I’m going to take the gun, okay?” He’s so gentle with me, talking me down like a rabid animal.
I nod and let him remove the weapon from my trembling grip.
“Good girl,” Wraith praises. “Are you okay? Can I touch you, sweet girl?”
I nod again, though I still seem to be frozen in place. “I’m sorry,” I squeak out. “There’s blood on your kitchen floor.” I’m not sure why that’s the first thing that came out of my mouth, but it’s true. Blood and a bullet hole. “Oh, and my dad is on your kitchen floor, too.”