Ashby Holler (22 page)

“I knew it.” He tossed the gun to the floor, ripping his arm from her grasp. “We had a plan. I gave you my resources. Let’s finish off your crew and we can start building a new, stronger club. It’s what you wanted.”

“It’s what I still want.” Ellen backed Dante toward the bed, pushing him onto the mattress. His dark eyes locked onto her face as she crept between his legs. “I took out all the weak links. The ones left are the strongest—”

“No,” Dante yelled, shoving her away and jumping to his feet. “Only Sasha and my cousin. The rest eat a bullet. That was the deal.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Your men will never follow me,” Dante said, grabbing onto the sides of Ellen’s arms. “They’ll turn on you. They have to go for this to work.”

A tiny piece of Ellen wanted to say yes, let someone else run the show, except the only show she cared about was the one starring her crew. “Give me a few days. I can bring them around.”

“Fuck that and fuck you.” Dante gave Ellen a firm shove, knocking her into the wall. He opened the door, stopping to hurl a glare. “I told you I’d burn your world down if you screwed me over one more time. Remember that when you’re rolling in flames.”

Dante walked into the shadows of the hall, and Ellen rocked in place. Her gaze fell to the gun on the floor, but she ran past it, rushing to catch Dante. The front door thumped against the wall as she hurried onto the landing, peeking over the banister. Through the open doorway, beams of porch light spilled into the house. Soft, yellow light cast an eerie circle in her foyer, the wind carrying dry leaves through the threshold.

Silence crept through the air, settling over Ellen like a frosty layer of ice. “Vinny,” she whispered. A chill hit her spine, and she ran down the stairs. At the end of the hall, Vinny’s door sat cracked open. Ellen’s heart jumped into her throat. The bare wood floor stretched out before her, growing longer with every step. If she opened Vinny’s door and saw red, if that boy’s blood painted her walls, the world would burn.

Ellen reached for Vinny’s door, and her lungs sealed shut. No air would pass. Her body wouldn’t allow for a breath, not until she looked beyond that door. Her fingers wrapped around the brass knob and she pushed. Candles flickered, throwing slivers of light around the room.

On the bed, tangled beneath two naked women, lay Vinny. His chest rose up and down, a tiny grin stuck to his sleeping face. Relief washed over Ellen, and her breath flowed out as a loud chuckle. The brunette snuggled against Vinny’s side, and Ellen backed out of the room, closing the door.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sasha

Sasha lifted Misty’s arm, squirming out of bed. The clock on her wall read 4:20. It always read 4:20, since the batteries had died over two years ago. She didn’t need that gadget to know the time. Every new morning carried with it an electric vibe, one that shocked her core and wiped clear her muddy slate.

In the beams of sunshine that radiated beneath the front door, Sasha searched for her pants. Much to her surprise, the usual whirl of her stomach steadied to a low rumble. Not that anything could come out. She’d have to put something in for it to upchuck.

After sliding on her jacket, she glanced at the bed. Misty’s leg was curled around her blanket, her golden hair spraying the pillows. She reached for the door, pausing. Her instincts said to dive back in bed and replace that blanket in Misty’s grasp, but her gut screamed for food. In an hour, when Misty crawled from her drunken slumber, only a grease-soaked breakfast sandwich would combat the hangover in store.

Sasha opened her door, recoiling from the sting of the bright sky. She stopped grumbling when the thick plastic frame of her shades hit the bridge of her nose. She hurried outside, locking the door behind her. While trotting down the stairs, she searched the lot for Dez’s pickup but found only gravel. It was stupid to think he’d be camped out on her bottom step, just as stupid as wanting such a bother. After her rejection, and with nowhere to go, he probably found his way to another woman’s bed. She shouldn’t care. They had no ties, and Dez was a total dick. His safe arms could clutch someone else. Some other bitch could feel his soft lips skate along their flesh.

Sasha’s jaw clenched, and her hand balled to a fist. Rage boiled into a blinding fury. It had to be released before it burned away the last tatters of her sanity, but there was no one to hit. She hurled her arm outward, punching thin air. A wave of stupidity rushed in, chilling the heat that prickled every inch of her skin, and she shook her fingers free. After a quick glance around, Sasha hopped in her pickup and drove toward the front gate.

***

Dez

Dez inched back behind the clubhouse as Sasha opened the front gate. He leaned against his truck, stashed in the trees, listening to her big block engine purr as she floored the throttle. A smile lifted his cheeks. That little display, her hissy fit…she was looking for him. Up until now, he couldn’t tell what Sasha’s game was. Her lustful leers held an edge of scorn and every word she spoke stung, but this was proof. Somewhere beneath that hard shell, a heart did beat his name.

His grin dropped when Sasha’s door squeaked open. Blonde hair glistened through thick leaves, and Dez crept forward, glimpsing Sasha’s friend prance down the stairs. He crouched low, backing against the clubhouse wall. His glare locked onto her body. The way she moved, stiff, eyes on every corner, it clashed with her dime store hippy getup. This girl was a pro.

Dry flakes of wood crumbled as Dez slid under the strategically cracked-open window. Her sandals clacked every time they hit the ground, making it easy to follow the woman’s steps. She scurried through the clubhouse, right into the backroom. The slam of desk drawers rattled the front windows as Dez snaked toward the porch.

In near silence, he hopped over the railing and snuck beside the front door. A click echoed from inside, and papers shuffled. He pulled his zippo from his pocket, using its shiny surface to spy through the door. Shapes and colors blurred in the metal, and he groaned. That dumb spy shit always worked for James Bond. It didn’t matter who that woman was or what she was planning to do. He had to stop her right now.

Dez peeked into the clubhouse, staring at her back. She clung to the phone on the wall, whispering in the receiver, and he edged inside. His steps fell lighter than he thought possible. He held his breath, and her voice streamed over the pound of his temples.

“This is Rebecca Prescott, agent 5327. Connect me to the director.”

The words stopped Dez short. This bitch wasn’t a spy for some other crew; she was a goddamn fed. He crept up behind her, catching a whiff of Sasha’s shampoo on the woman’s hair. He lifted his arm, and for a split second, their eyes connected. The fear he glimpsed struck him, paralyzing his muscles. Papers fell to the floor, and a man’s voice streamed from the phone in the woman’s trembling hand. Dez pressed down the lever on the base, ending the call. She staggered back, and he seized her by the throat, bashing her head against the wall.

Her body fell into a heap, and Dez took a step back. The hate he felt for this woman left the taste of bile in his mouth. She’d already carved a wedge between him and Sasha. What he had to do next might finish them. Anger spiked in waves, shrouding his vision in red. Dez grabbed the woman by the arm and dragged her into the backroom, closing the door.

***

Ellen

A thump jolted Ellen from the pillows. Her bedroom door pounded under a barrage of knocks, and she flung the blanket aside.

“Yeah,” Ellen yelled, pulling on a pair of jeans.

“We gotta get down to the clubhouse, now,” Vinny shouted through the closed door, “Dez called and—”

Ellen pulled open her door, and Vinny stumbled back, then ran down the stairs.

“What happened?” Ellen hurried down the staircase, fumbling with her boots, but Vinny was already out the front door.

Sunlight shocked her brain once she stepped off the porch. She shielded her eyes from the day’s harsh glare, rushing to catch Vinny. Before climbing up the clubhouse steps, Ellen looked at the garage. Panic swirled in the pit of her stomach. Sasha’s door sat wide open, her truck gone.

“Ah fuck, Dez!” Vinny’s raised voice pulled Ellen’s stare into the clubhouse. Vinny gawked at Ellen from the backroom, a white shade overtaking his face.

Ellen marched across the room, pushing past Vinny only to have her legs lock up once she stepped into the backroom.

In the corner, Dez hovered over a young woman duct-taped to a chair. Blood speckled the floor below her, dripping from the bruised cuts under her eye and flowing from her split lip.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ellen steered her glare to Dez just as he pulled a knife from his belt.

“Sasha brought her home on the last run,” Dez said, pointing the tip of his blade to the woman taped to a chair.

“So you decided to torture the bitch?”

“I caught her in here, going through your desk. She had your gas logs and maps. She’s a fed. I heard her on the phone.” Dez dragged his blade along the woman’s cheek, and she cried out, squirming in her chair. “Rebecca Prescott, agent 5327,” he sneered.

“No,” the woman sniveled. “My name’s Misty Jeffers. Ask Sasha. She knows me.”

Ellen turned from the swollen eyes that pleaded up at her, staring at Dez. “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” Dez said, the knife trembling in his hand. “I heard it, Ellen.”

The regret on Dez’s face spoke louder than his words. He knew what this meant for Sasha, how she’d be punished. Oh, how that girl would be punished.

“Where’s Sasha?” Vinny asked, pacing in the doorway.

“She left,” Dez called out, his glare locked on the woman whimpering in a chair, “about twenty minutes ago.”

Vinny stomped across the clubhouse, staring out the front windows. “She could be back any second.”

Ellen snatched the knife from Dez’s hand. “And I’ll deal with Sasha when she gets here.” She placed the tip of the blade under the woman’s fingernail, pressing lightly.

“No, please don’t.”

“What’s your name, honey?” Ellen asked in the softest tone her fuming body could muster.

“Mist—”

Ellen jabbed the knife forward, peeling the woman’s nail from her flesh. The scream that followed filled Ellen’s mind with rage. She stepped back, glancing at Dez. “Hit her.”

Dez’s large fist rocked the side of the woman’s face, teetering the chair before it slammed back on its legs. The woman’s eyes rolled back, and Ellen slapped her across the cheek, holding the knife to her neck.

“You’re gonna die, darlin’. There’s no way out of it. Tell me your name, and I’ll end you quick. Fuck with me, and I’ll make it last days.”

“Please, please,” she whimpered.

Ellen back away, nodding. Dez grabbed onto the woman’s shirt, holding tight while hurling punches. Between the crack of bones, and in a watery croak, bits of words echoed.

“Hold up.” Ellen caught Dez’s arm mid-swing, leaning close to the bloody mess that was once a woman’s face.

“Rebecca Prescott, agent 5327,” she mumbled, over and over as though all other information had been beaten from her head.

“Sasha’s here,” Vinny said, looking from Ellen to Dez.

“Good.” Ellen cut the tape from the chair, and the bitch flopped to the floor. “Bring her,” she said, pointing to the woman whose blood stained her floor. She tossed the knife aside and grabbed a handgun from her desk, walking out of the room.

***

Sasha

Sasha leaned against the steering wheel of her pickup truck, staring up at her open door. “Oh fuck.” Her truck bounced as she sped past the clubhouse. Rocks kicked up as she skid to a stop outside the garage. Sasha jumped from the cab and ran up her stairs. Inklings spawned in the back of her mind, warning her of danger, telling her to run away from this entire compound, yet her legs pushed on up rickety steps.

An empty bed mocked her. No sweet smile, fringed leather bag on the dresser, sandals by the door. Just a hint of patchouli, the only trace that Misty had ever been there. Sasha backed onto the landing, and the shuffle of boots filled her ears. A chill sucked all the warmth from her body, leaving a bone-jarring shiver. Her eyes drifted toward the clubhouse, stopping on her mother’s glare. It was that look, the stuff of nightmares, a glower that said four men she trusted were going to stomp her face into the gravel. At first, her legs resisted the urge to move. Then she saw Misty, slumped over Dez’s shoulder and trailing a stream of blood.

“No,” Sasha cried out, running down the stairs. “What did y’all do?”

Dez tossed Misty to the ground at Sasha’s feet, and Ellen stormed forward. The side of a pistol slammed against Sasha’s cheek, flashing the world to black.

Sasha dropped to her hands and knees, blinking back a haze. Blood gushed into her mouth, and a buzz bounced around inside her head. Thick fluid trickled down the back of her throat, and she hacked until she heard the sound of a gun being cocked, its click silencing her cough.

This was it, the end of a bumpy line. Sasha rose to her knees, and the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of her head.

“You brought a federal agent onto our property?” her mother all but growled, shoving the gun harder against her skull.

“What? No. She’s just a college girl from—”

A kick sent Sasha face down onto the ground. Rocks dug into her palms, and Misty’s blood pooled beneath her fingers.

“Listen to her, Sasha,” Dez said, his shadow falling over her.

Sasha pushed herself back to her knees, keeping her eyes low. Ellen stepped forward, grabbed Sasha by the hair, and yanked her closer to Misty’s twitching body. Sasha closed her eyes, but she couldn’t block out Misty’s garbled voice as she repeated a name and a badge number.

“My only child, a disgrace,” Ellen sneered, releasing Sasha in a shove. “I tell you to cool it, and you bring in the heat. I warned you, girl.”

The gun’s barrel returned to the back of Sasha’s head, and she opened her eyes, looking up at the deep blue sky. “Do it. Fucking kill me.”

A gunshot jolted Sasha’s body, echoing off the green hills. Her heart pumped, fast, strong, but a bullet didn’t pierce her skull. She dropped her gaze, and Dez lowered a gun from Misty’s head.

“It’s done,” Dez said, moving behind Sasha. “Ellen.”

Sasha couldn’t move. Splatters of bright red held her gaze. Misty stared at her through vacant eyes until blood covered her battered face.

“Yeah,” Ellen muttered.

Boots shuffled all around, but Sasha stayed on her knees. The lake of blood beneath Misty’s head, ripped off nail on her delicate finger, crimson-stained blonde hair trapped her stare. A beautiful person, an ugly lie, a gory heap. Sasha didn’t know what she was looking at.

An icy prickle ran through her veins, and she shivered. She knew that feeling well. It spawned every time her mother grew near.

“I’ll deal with you later,” her mother’s voice growled from behind her. “Clean this shit up.”

Minutes dragged. It could’ve been hours. Sasha couldn’t tell. Time dwindled under the fiery ache that scorched her insides. That split she felt in her chest, it had to be the last fragment of her soul breaking. She was broken.

“Sasha.” Vinny glided his hand up her arm, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorr—”