Page 59 of Ink's Devil

“Get out of here, Beth,” he commands, strangely in that voice he normally uses during sex. My brain, already attuned to him, interprets it as instruction. Wanting nothing more than to escape, I start to back away as Ink moves toward the man. Then, not understanding Ink’s involvement, or how he’d turned up, I take my opportunity and flee.

I’m aware of a commotion behind me and am thinking maybe I should stop when powerful arms come around me and I’m yanked up against a hard chest. I open my mouth to scream, but for the second time tonight, it’s covered by a palm.

“Shut the fuck up, Beth.”

In my mind’s depths I recognise this voice too, but not being Ink’s, panic takes over. All I know is, I’m trapped. I kick out with my leg hearing an oomph as I hit his knee. I bite down on his hand.

“For fuck’s sake, Beth. It’s me, Sparky.” As he talks, he’s dragging me back. “I’ve got to get you out of here. Ink would go apeshit if you were caught up in this.”

Sparky? But what’s he doing here? Then I register his desire is the same as mine—to get as far away from here as possible. But I’ve failed, haven’t I? Or did Ink hand over the drugs.

I stop fighting.Connor, I’m sorry. I tried.

He doesn’t let go of me completely, but now has just one hand with a firm hold of my arm, and he’s tugging me along. Then we’re running. I easily keep up with him, my long strides matching his.

“Where’s your car?”

I stop. “I’ve got to go back…” I’ve got to make sure the drugs were handed over. An image of Connor with a gun to his head, a bullet flying… “Sparky…”

“Where’s your fuckin’ car, Beth? There’s no time.” He grabs hold of my biceps and shakes me.

What can I do? Ink’s here, so’s Sparky. There could be more bikers. My head’s spinning. What’s happened to the drugs? And what will be the outcome for Connor?

I’m so far out of my depth, I’m drowning.

“Your fuckin’ car?”

“There.” I point to the end of the alley. “It’s just there.”

When it comes into sight, I press the key which is in the pocket of my hoodie and it unlocks with a loud beep.

Sparky curses then opens the passenger door. “Get in, I’ll drive.”

What? “No.”

“Don’t argue, Beth. This place is crawling with cops. I’ve got to come with you. Give me your keys.”

“Aren’t we waiting for Ink?” Maybe he’s gone the other way to his bike.

Sparky looks at me, the streetlight shows he’s incredulous. “Didn’t you fuckin’ see?”

“See?” I frown. All my thoughts had been on the fact I’d failed my brother as Sparky had dragged me away. I’d left Ink and the man behind me, more intent on getting free.

“Keys,” Sparky repeats tersely.

Cops, Sparky had said.What the hell does he mean? I’m not a criminal, but I’ve probably just knowingly committed a crime. I don’t want to be arrested, what help would I be to Connor then? He wants my car key. Wordlessly I hand it over. He doesn’t have to adjust the seat, just slides in and starts the engine up, then we’re moving and we’re off.

I’m hyperventilating as though I’ve just run the best part of a marathon. It’s not long before I realise it’s probably lucky that I do have a chauffeur. Tears prick in my eyes as I bow my head, struggling to breathe. One minute I was holding a bag full of drugs, scared witless in case the man I was to give them to proved violent, the next, Ink had them instead. My brain tries to make sense of it all.

Ink.

“What happened to Ink?” I ask, suddenly convinced something has.

“He was fuckin’ arrested,” Sparky snarls.

Oh. My. God. I draw in a sharp breath. “What? Why?”

“You fuckin’ tell me,” he snarls. “In fact, you can tell the prez.”

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