Page 173 of Burning Ember
“His own daughter?” Edge says with doubt.
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Griz replies. “Killed a man point blank in front of Deed’s when the boy was no more than eight years old. Had a gun in that kid’s hand since he was a teen. Had him killin’ for the club before he was even out of high school.”
“And yet you all think he had nothin’ to do with Cap.” This from Taz.
“Totally different,” Griz replies. To me, he says, “Gotta be another explanation.”
Taz comes toward me, lowers his voice, but I can hear the restrained animal behind it. “She shows up here and latches on to D. The second she figures out he’s not the one in charge, she sets her sights on you. Not a fuckin’ coincidence.”
I turn away and stare into the wood of the table, focus on the swirl patterns in it, instead of his words.
“I know your head’s spinnin’ ‘cause, yeah, she makes your dick rock solid. But brother . . . someone is spillin’ info to the GBs and she was standin’ right the fuck behind you when you told us about the witness.”
“So that makes her the snitch?”
“No, her DNA does. And the fact that she showed up here days after Cap got shot desperate for a place to stay. I guarantee if Dozer hadn’t stepped up, it would have been him all up in her pussy right now and not you.”
A hurricane of fury crashes into me and I launch myself at him. Grabbing his cut, my right hook connects. Fire spreads across my knuckles. The punch sends Taz staggering back a step.
Edge and Griz grab hold of me and yank me back.
Edge shouts at Taz, “Been back a day and already sick of hearin’ you run your mouth.” I throw their arms off me, and pace with my hands around my head fighting not to see every minute with Doll in a different light. Warped and distorted, with her as a fucking spy for another club and not the girl who’s acted like she’s fallen for me just as hard as I have for her.
“You’ve said your bit. Now, shut the fuck up and let’s figure out what to do with what we know,” Edge spits at Taz. Then he stops me, grabs the back of my neck, and makes me meet his gaze. “Not gonna lie to you, it looks bad, brother, but one thing I know for sure is one side of the story isn’t all there ever is. Go get her and we’ll see what she knows.”
Taz wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Blood smears down his arm. He spits more of it on the floor. “You’re too close to her to see her for what she is.” He gestures toward Edge. “Just like the last piece of pussy you were wrapped up in. The one that sent him to fuckin’ rot.”
Boisterous laughter and rock music follows me up the stairwell, the party below hitting its peak. Every single guitar cord and jovial voice that rings out grates on my nerves like nails screaming down a chalkboard.
Each one a reminder that the world as I know it hasn’t changed, only my view of it has.
When I get to the second floor, my gaze immediately lands on the wall where less than an hour ago, Ember and I attacked each other. Both of us feverish and impatient for the kind of release we know only the other can give. Like two sex addicts falling off the wagon.
My dick comes to life as I recall the firestorm of lust we were both lost in. The kiss that flamed hot enough to scorch the walls. The hitch of her warm breath as I slid just the tip inside her, and the way her tight heat gripped me when I buried myself in deep.
Fuck . . .What I wouldn’t give to go back to that moment. Take my time with her, get rid of Taz and Whiz when they came to drag me away, and live in ignorance for another hour or two.
Instead, I have to face the fact that Ember may not be what she seems. I have to haul her to Church like she’s on trial, where she’ll be treated like she’s guilty until proven innocent, and not the other way around.
Maybe it makes me a fool, but I still believe she’s the girl I think she is. Selfless, kind, and genuine, while still being incredibly strong. And I pray—pray though I haven’t prayed in years—that this is all one big fucked up coincidence. After the “Amen”leaves my lips, I pull in a fortifying breath and turn the knob.
The room’s dark, except for a stream of light that filters in from the bathroom. It highlights Ember as she sits stiff on the edge of the bed. Seeing her there, showered, dressed in my T-shirt, of pair of my boxers, and barefoot, has my skin tightening all over.
I want nothing more in this moment than to undress the both of us, pull her to the middle bed, and wrap her around me. Pretend I never learned where she came from.
I take two steps toward her, when movement and a red glow, the kind at the end of a lit cigarette, pulls my gaze to the shadowed corner. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and for me to identify the man standing there. First by his cut, then his size, and lastly his features. When I do, my spine snaps straight.
“Mav,” Ember says with surprise and slowly rises to her feet. Her eyes, wide with fear, dart to Smoke behind her as she begins to wring her hands. “He’s uh . . . he knows my mother. He’s an old friend of hers, and we were . . . we were just catching up.”
Her reaction reeks of guilt. Stunned, I simply unravel the reality of what I’ve failed to see.
Every ounce of faith I was holding on to that Taz was wrong, evaporates like mist, and my memories start to rearrange themselves. Each one infected and remade with her true motivations.
Why the fuck couldn’t I see it before?
Because you forgot, red roses have thorns too.
“He’s an old friend of hers?”
