Page 169 of Burning Ember

Possibly the light bulb burned out.

Before I can take one step toward the switch to test my theory, a rough voice laced with many years of use startles me. “You look just like her, you know?”

My heart lurches as I whirl around.

Oxygen flees my lungs.

A huge man is leaning against the wall by the bathroom doorway, like he was waiting for me. A shiver rakes over me when I think that I just showered with the door wide open.

Was he in there with me?

Oh, God.

He’s a biker, and a familiar one at that. His inky hair is now peppered with a few grays. He still wears it in a braid, the end of which hits the middle of his chest. His dark skin is no longer a flawless mocha, but weathered, wrinkled with age, and tattooed.

Even though it’s been over ten years, and I only saw him through a small opening in the closet, he’s unmistakable. His has the same wide forehead, broad shoulders, and intimidating presence, and not simply because of his height.

The air around him reeks with menace.

Taking a pack of smokes from his vest, he lights one. His old hands are adorned with large rings and covered with ink. And his eyes, black as coal, never once leave mine.

Memories of my past rush forward. Years of watching Sunny go through misery and pain have my hands curling into fists. The hatred I’ve harbored for him all these years floods forward.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing in here. But if you don’t get out,”—I force myself to speak with as much conviction as possible—“I’ll scream.” When he doesn’t move a muscle, I slowly back toward the door. “Mav is going to be back any minute.”

Blowing out smoke through the corner of his mouth, he warns, “Try to leave this room and this conversation is gonna get a lot more complicated than it needs to be.”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. We face off against one another and an eternity passes as a million scenarios of how to get away from him rush through my head.

“I’m not here to hurt you. Just need some answers. I expect by the way you’re starin’ at me that you need some too. Now, are you or are you not Tessa’s daughter?”

“Why it wasn’t enough that you ruined my sister, now you want to do the same to me?” I snarl. Then without thinking of the repercussions, I hiss, “You make me sick. How can you live with yourself?”

“I ruined who?”

Who?

He honestly looks confused and it only makes my rage simmer hotter. “Who? Who do you think?” My stomach drops and a knot forms there when I realize he really doesn’t have a clue. “Oh, God, she wasn’t the only one?”

“Girl, back up a second and answer my question. Is Telly—Tessa Owens, your mama?”

A bolt of pain rockets through my chest at hearing the nickname so many of her boyfriends and friends called her.

When I simply glower at him, he goes on. “At first—thought maybe it was a coincidence—so many people in the world, fuck there just might be two of ’em that could look so much alike. Either that or my old eyes weren’t playin’ tricks on me. Then you danced. Exactly like she used to do, and it took me back twenty years. I knew then, you were too much like her not to be her daughter.”

Undeterred by my silence, he asks, “She around? Is your sister?”

Outrage coils up my body and I fire off, “If you ever come near Sunny or our home again, I’ll make sure you rot in prison for the rest of your life.”

“So I was right.” He reaches out and dumps the ashes from his smoke. “Done my fair share of years locked up. Not lookin’ to go back.”

“Then stay away from my family.”

His forehead wrinkles as his brows pull together. He stubs out his smoke on his boot and then looks back up at me. “How is it you know who I am, but I’ve never seen you before last night?”

“This conversation is over.” I turn the door handle.

He lunges. But before I can scream, he slams his hand over my mouth covering it and grabs my other arm. His coal eyes lock with mine. “Girl, I told you I wasn’t gonna hurt you and I don’t plan to, but you’re startin’ to piss me off. I got more questions that need answerin’. You tell me what I need to know then this will go smooth—you don’t and keep shootin’ off that mouth of yours, we’re gonna have fuckin’ problems, you get me?”