Page 10 of Chaos & Carnage

With a purse of his lips, he says, “I’m Blue.”

My brows dip as I search his face, looking for a sign that he’s taking the piss. A twitch of his lips, a glint of humor in his eye. Anything. However, his expression remains blank, serious, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to pull one over on me or not.

“You’re messing with me, right?” I say it in such a way that implies, of course, he’s messing with me. Even so, I’m not sure.

Finally, there’s a slight twitch of the left side of his upper lip. “Guess you’ll never know, Red.” Pushing to his feet, his tall, slim, six-foot frame blankets me in shadow before he strolls toward a small kitchenette. Pulling open the fridge, he grabs a couple of items before kicking the door shut with his foot and striding back over, dropping a sandwich and a bottle of water on the desk in front of me. “Now, eat, drink, and get the fuck out of my space.”

***

The taxi drops me off outside the Rejects’ clubhouse since it was the closest and that stingy asshole only gave me a twenty when he all but kicked me out of his super-secret, high-tech lair.

I probably look like a ninety-year-old as I slowly climb out of the back of the cab and hobble toward the perimeter. I don’t even make it to the gate before several armed men wearing bulletproof vests step out of god-knows-where, rifles raised as they call out, “What do you want?”

I falter in my steps, surprised as I lift my head from where I was, carefully watching the sidewalk before remembering Giovanni is after all of us and Cain probably has everyone on high alert.

“Red? That you?” One of them calls out before speaking in a quieter voice into what I’m guessing is a Bluetooth headset.

“Yup, just me,” I say, holding up a hand. “No need to shoot.”

The man who spoke before lowers his weapon, ushering me toward the gate as he moves to unlock it. I notice the other men with him all keep their weapons raised, their eyes surveying the street with intense scrutiny. When the gate swings open, I quickly scurry through and the guy securely locks it behind me before we move with hurried footsteps toward the clubhouse.

“Cain and Oliver are on their way,” he tells me in a low voice.

“They aren’t here?” My tone is deflated, my shoulders slumping. All I want to do is wrap myself up in their arms, even though I know the slightest hug is going to hurt like a bitch.

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here either. It’s not safe.”

Before I can say anything else, he pulls open the door and rushes me inside. The door closes behind me, with him on the other side, and I’m doused in darkness. I have to blink several times, confused why it’s so dark in here. As my eyes adjust, I realize the interior of the bar area looks nothing like it did before. Gone are the booths, chairs, and even the stage in the corner. All of it has been used to close up windows, allowing only small slits of light to slip through. I hear a scraping sound behind me, and I turn to find men pushing furniture back into place, barricading the door.

More men peek out of the slits between the wooden planks over the window, tips of rifles resting on the planks as they poke through, ready to be fired at the first sign of trouble.Damn, I’m lucky no one blew my head off when I arrived.

“Let’s get you away from the windows, yeah?” I recognize Dax’s voice as he places his hand on my back and directs me toward the hallway that leads to the back of the building.

“Luc,” I gasp, the harsh reality of our situation bearing down on me. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe. He’s at Cain’s, along with the other kids.”

“Okay.” That’s all I’m capable of saying as my mind tries to catch up with everything. My entire body is still sore and sluggish, and even the quick walk to Cain’s bedroom leaves me out of breath and sweaty.

“Stay here ‘til he arrives, yeah?”

I mutter an agreement, already turning away before he closes the door. Eyeing the bed, my body begs me to lie down and rest, but I push past it as I walk into the bathroom. I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror or showered since I was thrown from my bike, and the feeling of dried blood crusting on my skin is starting to make me itch in much the same way the glitter I plaster on my body at Strip Tease does. Except, unlike the pretty shimmering flecks that stick under my fingernails, my nails are clogged with blood, dirt, and grime every time I scratch at my skin.

The bright overhead light floods the room, making the clean white surfaces sparkle. As I step in front of the mirror, I pick up on the jarring contrast of my appearance. Where the bathroom is all shiny, marble countertops and glimmering glass, I look like I’ve been through hell. Blood covers most of my skin, along with bits of asphalt and whatever other filth I’ve gathered. Like my body, my face is a mishmash of bruises, scrapes and cuts, my hair a tangled mess, sticking out in every direction.

I take my time, assessing and cataloging each injury, even removing the bandages Blue—or whatever the fuck his actual name is—applied and inspecting the wounds for myself. When I’m done, I strip out of my torn, ruined clothing and step under the steaming hot spray of water in the shower. The heat makes my open wounds sting, but it’s simply a reminder that I’m still alive. That I’m still here, fighting. I hang my head, letting the warm stream of water run down the back of my neck as I watch the blood and filth wash off my body and down the drain. Only when I can see the pale skin burnt raw from the hot water, do I get to work on untangling my hair and giving it a deep, scalp scraping scrub to remove every last fleck of what happened.

By the time I step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my middle, I almost look human again. Almost look like myself—except for the slow, pained movements, the remaining scrapes and injuries, and the dark bags under my eyes shouting at me to rest more.Just a little longer, I promise them.

I know I left some of my clothes here, so I slip into the spare bedroom next door, the one I used to sleep in, and grab a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeve top to cover up the worst of my bruises and injuries. Finding a hair-tie, I towel dry my hair and tie it up in a top-knot, out of the way, before returning to Cain’s room and finally allowing myself a moment to rest as I sag onto his sheets.

The smell of whiskey and leather assaults my senses, soothing my erratic pulse and beckoning me to lie down. I do, nuzzling the pillow as I inhale deeply. One blink. Two. Before my eyes don’t open again and sleep carries me off to its restful slumber.

Chapter 4

“What the fuck do you mean she’s at the clubhouse?” I bark into the phone, aware of the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. It’s been two fucking days. Two fucking days since I last felt her lips on mine, felt her weight in my arms. Two fucking days since I last slept. Two fucking days of having to tolerate those Antonelli scumbags inmyhouse.

Between the tense arguments, frequently tossed threats to murder one another, and the lack of sleep, I’m pretty sure I just imagined hearing that Red was at the clubhouse.

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