Page 84 of Massacre
We stood rooted as he passed, the space somehow colder for his absence. Only when he was gone did Amber breathe out, her grip on me easing. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “We need to go. Now.”
I nodded, scanning the street one last time before steering us back to where we stashed the ATV, my mind racing with questions.
The second we made it back to the cabin, Amber ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. In the next instant, I heard the shower turn on. I stood there as my mind raced, trying to piece together what the hell had just happened. Who was this Daniel Scott, and why did he seem to recognize Amber? And more importantly, why was she so afraid of him?
I had to find out.
With a sense of urgency, I knocked on the bathroom door. “Amber, are you okay in there?” I called out, my voice laced with concern. “Can I come in?”
There was a brief pause, and then the door opened a crack. Amber’s face appeared, her eyes red and swollen as she ran into my arms. “I want Haizley,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears as her body trembled against mine.
Holding her close, I whispered, “I’ll get her for you, baby. I promise.”
An hour or so later, I paced the cabin, looking at the bedroom door every few seconds, waiting for her to emerge. The second she jumped in the shower, I called the clubhouse looking for Haizley. “What happened, Massacre?” King asked as he never took his eyes off me.
“I don’t know,” I honestly replied. “She wouldn’t tell me. When we got back, she wanted Haizley. That was it.”
“Got back?” Gunner asked, looking at King, who pushed off the wall and growled. “Got back from where?”
“Tell me you didn’t fucking leave this cabin? Tell me you did not disobey a direct order from two club presidents?”
When I didn’t respond, King lost his shit. “Goddamn it, Massacre! You were told to stay fucking put! We need everyoneto think you’re dead. You do understand the word dead, right? Because if you don’t, I’m more than happy to show you exactly what dead means!”
Shaking his head, Gunner groaned. “Reaper isn’t gonna like this.”
“NO SHIT!” King yelled.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I said, standing my ground. “Playtime is fucking over. That motherfucker scared the shit out of my woman, and I want to know fucking why.”
“What guy?” Gunner asked.
“The motherfucker I knocked down outside the sheriff’s station. The second Amber saw him, she shut down. Froze. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my woman saw a fucking ghost.”
Throwing his hands in the air, King snapped, storming out of the cabin. “That’s it! I’m done!”
Chuckling, Gunner shook his head, typing into his phone. “He’ll be back. He won’t be happy, but he will come back. Now tell me about this guy so I can get Nav on him. He got a name?”
“Daniel Scott.”
Gunner’s brow furrowed, his fingers flying across the screen. “Daniel Scott? Not ringing any bells, but give me a minute. Nav’s got resources. We’ll shake every tree from here to the border if we have to.”
The longer she was in that room, the more worried I got. I knew whoever that fucker was, he had something to do with Amber’s past. As to what extent, I didn’t know. What I did know was I was going to kill him if he ever looked at her again.
I stared at the floor, anger humming through my veins like static. His name hung in the air, charged and unfamiliar, but the reaction Amber had—there was history buried there, something raw and dangerous that I didn’t understand yet. Gunner kept glancing at his phone, waiting for a ping, some thread Nav could pull when the bedroom door opened and Haizley walked out.
Rushing over to her, I asked, “How is she?”
“Upset and scared,” the pretty woman whispered. “She’s resting right now.”
“Can you tell us who he is, babe?” Gunner asked, walking over to his woman.
Taking a deep breath, Haizley nodded. “Yeah. She gave me permission. Let’s sit,” the woman said, walking past and sitting on the small couch in the living room. Taking a seat next to her, Gunner took her hand for support.
“Massacre, you know Amber’s past.”
I slowly nodded.
“What you don’t know is what her life was like before she was rescued. Her adopted father, a man named Harold Garrison, was nothing more than a pedophile. The second Amber got her period, he pounced. He raised her to believe that having sex with her father was normal. As she grew, he controlled everything about her. From what she wore, to what she cooked, to what books she read.”
