Page 39

Samantha

Liar.

Deceiver.

The Worst, with a capital ‘W.’ And underlined. Bold-faced, too.

I call myself every name in the book the moment those words leave my mouth. But I don’t do a damn thing to correct them. I can’t.

It’s too terrifying. I don’t want to risk what I have with Diesel by telling him what I’ve done, and I don’t want to risk losing my brother, either. If he can make it to Ironwood Falls, maybe then I can figure something out — some way to make the club take him in or some place for him to hide.

In stunned silence, I sit beside Diesel while he completes a simple tattoo on himself — the date, a heart, my name. It’s small, loving, and it makes me want to cry in pain seeing it.

But I stay quiet and only open my mouth to tell him I think it looks great when he finishes and asks me what I think of it.

As soon as it’s done, he checks the time and frowns. “We need to get back. We’re running out of time. The club will make a move soon.”

I nod. “Okay.”

The ride back to the clubhouse is tense and quiet. I cling to Diesel's back, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the motorbike roars along the roads. With each passing mile, the knot of guilt and dread in my stomach grows larger. I dread the war that's coming; I dread my brother arriving in town; I dread the truth of my betrayal being discovered.

Most of all, I dread losing Diesel when he finds out what I've done.

We pull up to The Noble Fir and Diesel parks his bike. I climb off on shaky legs, struggling to keep my composure. All around us, the club members are grim-faced as they load weapons and strap on bulletproof vests. The very air seems to vibrate with nervous anticipation of the violence to come.

Diesel takes my hand and leads me inside. I can barely look him in the eye, the fresh tattoo on his arm a painful reminder of how undeserving I am of his love; the tattoo on my body burns like a brand, and all I can think about is how, if he finds out what I’ve done, I’ll have to go the rest of my life looking at this mark on my body and knowing that I fucked up my relationship with the best man I’ve ever met.

"It's going to be okay," he says, pulling me into his arms. "The club will handle this. I'll keep you safe, I promise. And when it’s over, we’ll take care of your brother."

I nod weakly against his chest, not trusting myself to speak. After a moment, I pull away.

"I think I need to go lie down for a bit," I tell him, my voice trembling slightly. "This is all just... a lot."

Understanding fills his eyes. "Of course. I have to go check in with Rabid and find Hunter. It’s almost time to… Anyway, you get some rest. I’ll find you later.”

“I love you,” I say, surprising myself by somehow keeping a steady voice.

“I love you, too,” he says, loud enough that anyone can hear. And someone does. Molly looks up from the bar and raises an eyebrow in my direction. I force a smile for her, then turn away from Diesel and walk back to his apartment.

I hurry into the apartment and lock the door behind me with shaking hands. My heart pounds as I retrieve the hidden cellphone from its hiding spot. The screen lights up with a new text message notification. It's from Jake.

“I'm here. In town. Meet me at the old truck stop off Route 6 ASAP. Please. I need your help."

Shit. This is happening too fast. The club is about to go to war any minute, and Diesel will come looking for me soon. But I can't ignore my brother. I have to see him, have to get him to safety before all hell breaks loose.

I take a deep breath and type out a response with trembling fingers. "On my way. Be there soon."

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I slip out of the apartment as quietly as I can. The main room of the clubhouse is chaos, everyone shouting and rushing around. I spot Diesel in the midst of it all, his face hard and focused as he talks to Rabid, gesturing animatedly. I feel a pang in my chest at the sight of him.

I'm doing this for you, too. To keep you safe from the mess I've made.

With my head down, I stay unnoticed; everyone’s so wrapped up in the coming war that they don’t even bat an eye as I walk by.

I'm almost to the door when a hand clamps down on my arm.

I whirl around to see Molly, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Where do you think you're going?" she whispers. "No one leaves. Rabid's orders."

"It’s Jake. I have to go get him.”

Her expression softens. “Not on foot you won’t. And definitely not through the front door.” She reaches into her pants pocket and then shoves something into my hands. A set of keys. “My car’s out back. Go through the back hallway and out the door at the end. It’s the red sedan. But before you take these keys, you need to tell me where you’re going. The world is about to break apart in a shitstorm and if something happens, I need to know where to send your man to find you.”

“The truck stop off Route 6.”

“I know where that is. Gross place. Sorry you have to go there to get your brother,” she says. She puts a hand on my shoulder, then pulls me into a hug. “Be safe.”

“Thanks, Molly,” I say, then I slip through the back hallway and out the door.

My heart races as I pull into the deserted truck stop off Route 6. The place is eerily quiet, the only sounds the idling engine of Molly's sedan and the nervous tapping of my fingers against the steering wheel. I scan the darkened parking lot, searching for any sign of Jake.

Nothing. He's not here.

Worry gnaws at my stomach. What if something happened to him? What if Moretti's men found him first? I glance at the clock on the dashboard. He should be here by now.

I debate waiting in the car, but the suffocating tension is too much. I need to move, to do something other than sit here imagining worst-case scenarios. Decision made, I take a deep breath and open the car door. The night air is cool against my flushed skin as I step out onto the cracked asphalt.

"Jake?" I call out tentatively, my voice sounding small and afraid to my own ears. "Jake, are you here?"

Silence. The hulking shadows of abandoned semi-trucks loom in the darkness. I shiver, feeling utterly alone and exposed out here. Vulnerable. Every instinct screams at me to get back in the car, to get out of here. But I can't. Not without Jake.

I think of Diesel and the club, of the impending war I've left them to fight. A pang of guilt twists my stomach. Diesel will be furious when he discovers I'm gone.

If I live long enough to make it back to him.

Every shadow seems to hold an enemy, and I nearly jump out of my skin just doing a circle of the desolate lot. “Jake? Where the hell are you?”

A branch snaps in the darkness behind me and I whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat. But it's just a raccoon, scurrying away into the shadows. I exhale shakily, trying to calm my frayed nerves.

Where is he? Why isn't he here yet? Horrible scenarios flash through my mind—Jake captured or killed before he could get to me, walking into a trap, Moretti's men lying in wait to snatch me too...

I shake my head, dispelling the spiraling thoughts. I can't think like that. Jake will be here. He has to be. I just need to wait a little longer.

I pace back and forth beside Molly's car, arms wrapped tightly around myself. The night seems to press in from all sides, sinister, threatening. I've never felt so alone, so exposed. So stupid for coming out here by myself. Diesel's warnings echo in my head and a wave of regret washes over me. I should have told him, should have trusted him. Now I've put us both in danger.

The rumbling growl of an approaching motorcycle makes me jump. I spin to see a single headlight cutting through the darkness, growing larger by the second. My stomach drops as the bike pulls into the lot.

It's Diesel. And he looks furious.

He climbs off his bike and stalks toward me, his expression thunderous. "What the hell are you doing, Samantha?" he demands when he reaches me. "Do you have any fucking clue about the danger that you’re in right now?”

“How did you know to find me here?”

“Molly cracked. I saw the look on her face, and I could tell she was hiding something, and she told me you were coming here.”

I pause a moment, blink. How did he get the information out of Molly? She seems so unflappable. “Did you threaten her?”

“Yes. I did." He pauses. “What are you doing here? Why did you run off?”

“Jake’s supposed to meet me here.”

“Your fucking brother? How did you know to meet him here?”

“I got a phone. It doesn’t matter how, but I warned him. He asked me to meet him here.”

It hurts to say it. To see the sense of betrayal and hurt wash across Diesel’s face. To feel the weight of my lies crush my heart and the man who holds it.

“You lied to me,” he murmurs. Then he shakes his head. “This place is too fucking dangerous. There’s too much risk. I can’t lose you, Samantha. Come with me. Now.”

“I can’t. I won’t. I need to wait for my brother.”

I stand my ground, my chin lifted defiantly even as my heart races. "I'm not leaving without Jake," I insist, my voice wavering only slightly. "He needs me, Diesel. I can't abandon him."

Diesel's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He steps closer, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes me shiver. "This isn't safe, Samantha. For fuck's sake, you're putting a target on your back by being out here alone."

"I'm not alone now, am I?" I retort. "You're here."

He makes a low, frustrated sound, like an angry bull. "That's not the point and you know it. We need to get you back to the clubhouse, where I can protect you."

I shake my head vehemently. "No. I'm staying until Jake gets here. I have to help him, Diesel. He's my brother."

"And you're my whole fucking world!" he shouts, his composure finally cracking. "Don't you get that? I can't... I won't lose you. Not for anything or anyone."

Tears sting my eyes at the raw anguish in his voice. I reach for him, my fingers grazing his tense jaw. "You won't lose me," I whisper. "But I have to do this. Please try to understand."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch for a moment before pulling away with a ragged sigh. Then that crooked smile that I so surprisingly cherish returns to his face. "You're really pushing the fact that I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

Just then, a battered, rusty car comes careening into the truck stop lot, tires squealing. It screeches to a halt a few feet away from us and the driver's side door flies open. My heart leaps into my throat as I see Jake stumble out, his eyes wild and darting nervously.

"Sam!" he cries, his voice high-pitched and frantic. "Thank God you're here. We gotta go, now. I need your help."

Diesel steps in front of me protectively, his body tense. "Hold on," he says, his tone sharp. "You're not going anywhere with her. If you need help, follow us back to the clubhouse. We can keep you both safe there."

Jake shakes his head vehemently, and I can see his hands trembling. "No, no, you don't understand. I can't do that. It has to be this way. Please, Sam. Come with me. I’ll drive."

He looks at me pleadingly, desperation etched into every line of his haggard face. My heart cracks at the sight of my brother so broken, so afraid. Diesel's right, the smart thing would be to bring Jake back to the club. But at this moment, all I can think about is that my brother needs me. I can't turn my back on him — he has no one else.

"It's okay," I say, placing a hand on his arm. "I'll go with him. I'll be safe. I promise."

Diesel's eyes

Diesel's eyes blaze with a mix of fear and frustration as I move past him toward Jake's car. "Samantha, don't do this," he urges, his voice strained. "Please. Come back with me."

I pause. My heart aches at the desperation in his plea, but I force myself to keep walking.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I have to."

Jake is already back in the driver's seat, the engine running. I open the passenger door and climb in beside him. The interior reeks of cigarettes, stale sweat, and desperation. Jake's eyes are bloodshot and his skin has a sickly sheen. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel. Twice, he swallows, then shakes his head rapidly, as if bringing himself back to consciousness.

As I buckle my seatbelt, I look out the window at Diesel. He stands illuminated in the headlights, his expression anguished as he watches me. I mouth, "I love you" one more time before Jake slams the car into gear.

We move. Not fast, but slow.

A gentle circle around the man I love, who stands, who watches me with worry tearing apart his features.

Then Jake rolls down his window.

And his hand reaches into the pocket of the ragged coat he’s wearing. He pulls out a gun.

“I’m sorry, sis,” he says. “I have to do this.”

He aims the gun out the window. Pulls the trigger. One shot rings out. Then another.

A scream rips my throat in two as Jake slams on the gas and we peel out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of gravel and Diesel’s fallen body behind us.