Jezebel
Her bare feet slapped against the damp earth as branches clawed at her arms and legs. Behind her, dogs barked. They weren’t hunting dogs, but security dogs. They'd caught her scent almost immediately.
She stumbled into a small clearing and dropped behind the rotting trunk of a fallen oak, pressing a trembling hand against her side.
She was bleeding, and judging by the amount of blood on her dress, she was losing too much.
The knife hadn't gone in deep enough to kill her, but it had done enough damage to leave a steady trail of her blood behind her.
She peeled her hand away and stared at the crimson coating her fingers. "Damn it." She'd made it this far, so there was no way that she was dying in the woods.
Voices drifted closer. "They're paying a fortune to bring her back alive."
"And if she fights?" someone else asked.
A cruel laugh answered. "Then we make sure she regrets it.
" Jezebel squeezed her eyes shut. She'd heard those words before.
The first time had been from the man she'd married.
Her husband had been charming when they met.
He was wealthy, powerful, and protective.
By the time she realized he wasn't protecting her but imprisoning her, it was too late. Behind every smile was a command. Every gift had become another chain, and every apology had been followed by another bruise. She touched the fading fingerprints around her throat that he’d given her three days ago.
The stab wound had happened tonight because she'd found something she wasn't supposed to—something her husband would kill to keep buried.
A twig snapped, and she knew that someone was close. Jezebel held her breath as flashlights swept across the clearing. One beam skimmed over the fallen tree, lingering only a second before moving on. "Nothing over here!" a man called.
The voices drifted away, and she waited another full minute before daring to move.
Slowly, painfully, she crawled from behind the log and dug into the inside pocket of her leather jacket.
Her fingers closed around a flash drive that was no bigger than her thumb.
It was still there. Everything she'd risked her life for was sitting in the palm of her hand.
It was enough evidence to destroy an empire—or get her killed.
She slipped it back into the hidden pocket and pushed herself upright.
There was only one place left to go, and she knew that going there was going to be a big mistake.
Motorcycle clubs weren't exactly known for taking in strangers.
Most protected their own and no one else, but six months ago she'd overheard a conversation during one of her husband's business dinners.
One of the men had laughed. "Stay out of Maryland," he said. "Captain doesn't tolerate anyone bringing trouble onto Grave Prowler’s territory."
At the time, she'd thought nothing of it, but now, it was the only thread of hope she had left.
If half the rumors about Captain were true, he was ruthless.
If the other half were true, he protected people under his patch with his life.
She just had to convince him she was worth protecting before her husband convinced someone else to put a bullet in her head.
Rain began to fall, soft at first, then steadily harder. Jezebel looked toward the distant glow of highway lights through the trees. Maryland wasn't far away, and neither was the Grave Prowler’s clubhouse. She just had to stay alive long enough to reach their territory, and she’d be safe.
A twig snapped behind her, and this time, she knew that she had been spotted. "Found her!" someone shouted. Jezebel didn't think this time; she just ran.
The first gunshot cracked through the trees, and bark exploded from the trunk inches from Jezebel's head. She didn't scream. She'd learned a long time ago that screaming only encouraged men like them. Instead, she ran.
Branches whipped across her face, leaving thin cuts along her cheeks as she tore through the woods. Rain turned the forest floor into slick mud, and more than once she nearly lost her footing.
Another shot rang out, and this one missed by yards. They weren't trying to kill her—not yet, at least. Victor had been very clear about keeping her alive. "Bring her back breathing. I'll deal with the rest." The memory made bile rise in her throat.
For three years, she'd been the perfect wife.
She'd smiled at charity galas, entertained business associates, and pretended not to notice when Victor disappeared for days at a time.
When she found out that she was pregnant, she tried to stay off his radar.
She'd ignored the bruises, the lies, and the women that he didn’t try to hide from her.
Then she opened his office door. Victor's study was always locked, but he'd forgotten to secure it one night after too much whiskey.
She'd gone looking for a bottle of aspirin and instead found a laptop sitting open on his desk.
She should've walked away; instead, she'd looked at it.
The spreadsheets hadn't made sense at first, but then she recognized the names.
They were politicians, judges, business owners, and even a sheriff.
And next to their names were listed payments with dates.
She was sure that they were records of bribes.
She just never imagined that her husband was involved in moving drug shipments hidden inside legitimate cargo through the Chesapeake Bay.
Her blood had run cold. The man she'd married wasn't just a wealthy businessman; he was the head of an organization that reached farther than she'd ever imagined.
She'd copied everything she could onto a flash drive before quietly slipping out of the office.
Victor found out the next morning, and the beating that followed had nearly killed her.
A branch caught her shoulder, jerking her back to the present.
She stumbled down a muddy embankment, sliding the last several feet before crashing into the shallow edge of a creek.
The icy water stole her breath. For a second she lay there, staring up at the rain pounding through the canopy of trees.
Then survival kicked in. Her father had taught her one useful thing before cancer stole him away.
"If someone's tracking you with dogs, use water whenever you can."
She crawled deeper into the creek until the water reached her waist. The current tugged at her torn dress as she forced herself downstream, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side.
Every step felt like someone driving a knife between her ribs all over again.
The barking grew fainter as she followed the creek for nearly half a mile before climbing onto the opposite bank.
Her legs trembled violently, and she couldn't tell if it was from blood loss or exhaustion—probably both.
The woods thinned, giving way to an old county road.
A faded sign welcomed travelers into Maryland, and relief washed over her.
She'd made it across the state line. Now she just had to find the Grave Prowler’s territory.
Headlights appeared in the distance, and Jezebel ducked behind a cluster of bushes, every muscle in her body tensing as the pickup slowed.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she silently begged them not to stop.
The truck rolled past without so much as tapping the brakes, and she let out a shaky breath.
Trusting strangers had nearly gotten her killed once already.
She wasn't about to make that mistake again.
The rain had soaked her to the bone by the time she spotted the glow of a neon sign a mile farther down the road. It was a roadside diner. She didn't care about food, but she needed information.
The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, and conversations stopped instantly. Every eye in the place landed on her, and she knew what they saw—a barefoot woman with her dress torn, hair plastered to her face, and blood staining one side of her clothes.
The elderly waitress hurried over. "Honey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Jezebel lied.
The woman looked unconvinced. "You don't look fine."
"I just—” Her voice cracked. "I need directions."
The waitress glanced toward the blood on her side before lowering her voice. "Directions to where?" Jezebel hesitated. If Victor's reach was as far as she feared, saying the wrong name in the wrong place could get her killed. Then again, she'd already come too far to turn back.
She swallowed hard. "I'm looking for the Grave Prowlers.
" The diner's silence deepened. A man in a trucker's cap slowly lowered his coffee cup.
Two mechanics exchanged knowing looks. The waitress studied Jezebel for several long seconds before nodding toward the back booth.
An older man sat alone, drinking coffee.
His gray beard reached halfway down his chest, and a faded leather vest hung over the back of his chair.
"Go ask Earl," the waitress whispered. "If anyone knows where to find them, it's him." Jezebel's pulse quickened. She crossed the room carefully, trying not to show how badly she was hurting.
The old man looked up before she reached the table. His blue eyes were surprisingly sharp. "You look like death warmed over," he said matter-of-factly.
"I've had better nights,” she breathed, clutching her side.
"I reckon." He gestured toward the empty seat.
She sat with a wince. "You know where I can find the Grave Prowlers? I need their help."
Earl took a slow sip of coffee. "I do." Hope flared inside her. "But before I tell you—” He leaned forward, studying her face with unsettling intensity. "You'd better tell me why the President of the Grave Prowlers would risk his club for a woman he's never met."
Jezebel looked down at her trembling hands. When she answered, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Because if he doesn't—” She reached into the hidden pocket of her jacket and laid the tiny flash drive on the table. "The men hunting me won't stop with me. They'll come for him next."
He looked the flash drive over, and she quickly slipped it back into her pocket. “I can’t take you to their clubhouse,” he said. “Captain will have my ass if I drop you off there. But I can take you to a warehouse that they use. It’s in their territory.”
“Do you think this Captain will help me?” she asked.
The older man shrugged. “Not sure,” he admitted.
“I’m not a patched member of the Grave Prowlers, but I know the guy, and if you’re on his property, he’ll notice.
” That was all she could ask for right now.
First, she had to get into the Grave Prowlers; then, she could convince this Captain to help her.
She had no other choice—her and her unborn baby’s lives depended on it.
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What’s coming next from K.L.? You won’t want to miss Blood Vows (Crimson Empire Mafia Book 2) coming this September!