Page 28 of Vapor's Blaze

I sit up in bed panting and trying to get my breath back. The dream was so vivid, I was a child again. I must have been around four or five. My heart is hammering as I desperately try and recall the details, the sirens, the paramedics. My mom lying on the living room floor bleeding out, and I thought the spreading blood looked like a poppy flower.

The scary man who came to visit that afternoon, whose voice was raised in anger, I had never seen him before, and my mom had told me to hide, hide and not to come out no matter what happened. I was under my bed, holding my breath and an arm reached out for me. I remembered the cartoon dog tattoo on his forearm and his moustache. There was something so familiar about his voice, where had I heard it before… Then my mom screamed.

“You’re having nightmares again. You were yelling loud enough to wake the dead, saying something about poppies.” A gruff voice draws me from my thoughts. It’s Jamus.

I shake the cobwebs from my head, trying desperately to remember what I just dreamed before it all slips away. Unlike the other nightmares, this was so real, my mom dying in front of me, but not from an overdose like my grandfather said. She was murdered by that man who came round. It’s like I was there again, the noises, the voices of the paramedics trying to save her.

I must have locked away the trauma, but I now know the truth. My mom was killed, but who was the killer.

“Sorry I disturbed you,” I murmur.

“You have bad dreams a lot?” he asks.

“I have it more when I’m anxious.”

The old man grins fondly at me. “You’re getting married and starting a whole new life. What could be more anxiety provoking that that?”

Picking at a stain on the blanket, I shrug. “I don’t think my marriage to Decker is going to take place after the stunt I pulled.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he responds, “That was a right stupid move on your part. Don’t ya want to get hitched, girl?”

“I’m not ready, and I don’t like Decker.”

“You hadn’t ought to be so choosey. Remember, when we used to tease you about becoming a crazy old cat lady. Well, that is going to be a sure thing if you don’t straighten up and fly right from here on out.”

My lips twitch. “Yeah, I guess it’s now or never time for me.”

He gestures outward with one arm. “Well, sure it is, girl. You’re young. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

I give him a wry look. “Just because I’m getting married off to someone my grandfather picks doesn’t guarantee me adventure by any stretch of the imagination. Chances are I’ll still end up a crazy old cat lady, but with an asshole husband to contend with as well.”

“You aren’t going to end up that way, because King’s going to find you the right man this time. You’re right about Decker being all wrong for you. He likes the whores too much to deserve a fine girl like yourself.”

“Yeah, and he’s not the brightest bulb in the box.”

“You’re not wrong about that. There’s got to be someone out there who’s right for you.”

“What if I found a man I like all on my own?”

“We both know that getting hitched to one of the Hounds was never in the cards for you. If that happened, your husband would always be a threat to Tracker when he takes over as president one day. We can’t have infighting like that going on if we want the club to survive.”

Nodding, I state impulsively. “Or you could let me go. Give me a chance to have a happy life of my own choosing somewhere far from Las Salinas.”

Jamus’ head snaps up to glare at me. “Don’t even think about that for a second. If you escape, King will hunt you down, and you won’t like what he’ll do when he gets his hands on you. Women can marry good men, or they can be married off to real assholes. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I don’t want to get married at all. At least give me a fighting chance at a decent life, Jamus.”

He just shakes his head. “What would you do out there in the real world all by yourself, Trix? You barely graduated high school, never went to college, or learned a trade. How in the hell would you survive?”

Stung by the reality check he just gave me, I say grudgingly, “Lots of people work regular unskilled jobs.”

“You’re not thinking rationally, girl. Trust me on that.”

Sinking back against the wall again, I try to convince him that I can take care of myself in the wild, though maybe I’m trying to convince myself. My grandfather pays me wages for doing odd jobs for the club, which is enough to cover my rent and food. But a lot of what I do wouldn’t translate to real world skills. Weighing out drugs, boxing up ammo, and ordering cases of illegal booze for the brothel wouldn’t look impressive on a resume. “I’m good with people. That ought to be worth something in this world.”

“Just do what your grandfather asks. He’s put a lot of time and effort into finding you a husband. He has a couple of backups, but right now they’re trying to get the brother you texted to come and meet you.”

Holy shit, that’s the last thing I want to happen. I hope and pray he’s not interested because his reputation as a vicious bastard precedes him. If it’s him or Decker then I’m sorry to say, I’d take Decker and his womanizing ways and idiocy over that maniac, any day.

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