Page 27

CHAPTER 26

EMBER

Marry me.

I glance at my cell for the millionth time to see if I missed anything from Ghost, and groan when I realize the fucking thing is dead. Before rushing to my room to grab my charger, I stop to check on Mrs. West. I turn the knob to push open her door and lean in to look toward the bed.

Pain radiates in my head, my vision blurs, and I collapse in an unconscious heap on the floor.

When I come to, I’m tied to Mrs. West’s bed, arms and legs spread out and anchored to the four posts. My head spins when I try to lift it.

“Oh, good,” a man says, stepping out of the dark corner. “You’re awake.”

A garbled noise catches my attention, and I swivel my head to look toward the other corner. Panic claws at my throat when I see Mrs. West tied to one of the kitchen chairs, a piece of cloth wrapped around her head to act as a gag.

“What the hell?” I mutter. “What’s going on?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man counters. “You’re being held hostage.”

His accent is heavy, and his eyes appear black as night.

“What do you want?” I demand, ignoring the throbbing behind my own eyes.

“That’s not the question you should be asking,” he taunts. “I think what you really want to know is who am I?”

“Fine, yes, that.”

I’ll ask him anything if it means he keeps talking and stays focused on me.

“I’m Jose Santiago.”

“Great. Now what the fuck do you want?”

It’s not lost on me that knowing his name isn’t a benefit. If anything, it only means he’ll actually kill me and Mrs. West when he’s done whatever it is he came here to do.

“My boss sent me here to keep an eye on the old lady,” he explains, nodding toward Ghost’s mom. “You see, Mr. Cruz made it clear to me that I’m only to scare her, but he didn’t mention anything about you. So, now it’s my turn to ask a question. Who are you ?”

If I weren’t strapped to a bed, I’d find it mildly annoying that he doesn’t know the answer to that. “Do you need to know my name to do whatever it is you’re gonna do?”

“I think it would be better for you if I called you by your name instead of whore while I fuck you, don’t you?” Chills race down my spine. “You see, what the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and he definitely didn’t know about you.” Jose tilts his head. “Or maybe he did, and he wants me to take initiative with you.”

“Touch me, and I’ll kill you,” I snarl, knowing full well that my binds will prevent me from doing a damn thing.

Mrs. West tries to scream, but the gag muffles the sound. Jose turns his back on me to focus on her. “Ma’am, I really need you to shut up,” he snaps.

When she doesn’t, he shoves the gun in his hand into his waistband, bends down, and unties her. Then he drags her out of the room. I take the time he’s gone to struggle against my restraints, but it’s useless. He didn’t use rope, which I’d have a chance of loosening. No, he used chains, which are secured with locks.

He returns minutes later, and smirks. “That’s better. Now we can enjoy each other in peace.”

This guy’s delusional. Seriously fucked in the head if he thinks I’m going to let any second of this be peaceful.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Ah, but I will.” He nods toward the doorway. “She’s definitely not going to remember anything. One of the perks of her illness, right?” The question is rhetorical because he keeps talking. “And her precious son is probably dead by now so…” He shrugs, letting that tidbit hang between us.

“If you were only sent here to scare her, why would Ghost be dead?” I ask, refusing to believe that’s a possibility.

“Because Mr. Cruz doesn’t give a damn about Ghost or those other Soulless King fucks. He only wants to rule Marble Falls. A sick old lady isn’t going to hinder his ability to do that.” He closes the distance between himself and the bed. “But you are another matter. You’ll talk, I’m sure. But first, I’m going to have my fun.”

He grabs his gun and runs the barrel up the inside of my leg. Vomit creeps up the back of my throat, and despite my best effort, I can’t stop it from spewing from my mouth.

Jose glares at me. “Disgusting,” he snaps before he starts hitting me with the butt of the gun.

He strikes my face, my stomach, my legs, not missing an inch of my body. I’ll be one giant bruise for sure if he keeps it up.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I shout, hating the fear in my voice.

He lands one last blow to my torso before smirking. “No, I don’t think I will.” Jose strips out of his clothes, tossing them to the floor. “It’s a pity I had to take out that punk outside. It would’ve been nice to have him watch. I do like putting on a show.”

Ben! I totally forgot about him.

Ghost is going to be beyond pissed when he gets here. And he is going to get here. I have to believe that, or I’d give up.

Jose pulls a pocketknife from his discarded pants and slices the blade through my shirt, exposing my breasts.

“A bit small for my taste, but I’ll make do,” he taunts as he drags the blade across both nipples, drawing fresh blood to mingle with the damage he’s already caused.

Next, he cuts my sweats and panties away. Instinctively, I try to clench my thighs but can’t. Tears fill my eyes, and no amount of wishing them gone makes it happen, so I squeeze them shut and do my best to block out every ounce of pain and what’s about to happen.

Jose crawls on top of me, his nasty dick flopping against my stomach, and holds the knife to my throat. I force myself to think about Ghost and what our future would’ve been like. I imagine I’m on a porch swing with him, watching our kids run around the yard and catching lightning bugs in jars.

One second, my imagination is running wild, and the next, my eyes are flying open as Jose’s weight leaves my body.

“You motherfucker!”

Ghost?!

I’m crying in earnest now, a mix of fear and happiness warring in my mind. I knew he’d come for me. I’d hoped he’d come.

Ghost and Jose roll around on the floor, each one trying to best the other. Weapons are scattered forcing them both to fight with their fists. I can barely see through my tears, but I can hear. Bone crunches, men grunt, and I swear I even hear blood splatter on the wall.

“I’ll kill you for daring to touch her,” Ghost growls when he gains the upper hand.

He pummels Jose’s face, one blow after another, but Jose manages to roll out from under him and flip them so he’s on top. Now it’s Ghost’s face that’s getting hammered.

“Leave him alone!” I scream, yanking against the chains and ignoring the way they cut into my limbs.

What’s a little more damage in the grand scheme of things?

Movement at the doorway pulls my attention away from the fight, and my eyes widen when I see Mrs. West raise a shotgun, aim it at Jose, and pull the trigger.

He collapses on top of Ghost, his head blown apart by the blast. Ghost shoves him away and scrambles to his feet, staring at his mom incredulously. He cautiously walks toward her, his hand outstretched for the gun.

“Mom, why don’t you give me that, hm?” he says quietly.

She does as he asks. “He was going to kill you,” she says.

“I know. You saved me.”

Mrs. West’s eyes find me, and her shoulders deflate. “Oh, Ember, honey.” She closes the distance between us. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

She tenderly touches my cheeks, and I wince. “You’re far from okay, but you will be.”

“Hey, Mom, do you think you could get me the bolt cutters from the garage?” Ghost asks. “I need to get Em free.”

“Of course.” She scurries off to do his bidding, no hint of the Alzheimer’s that plagues her.

Ghost goes to the closet and grabs a blanket from the shelf to cover me with. “Fuck, Em, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You got here, that’s all that matters.”

His gaze travels from my battered face to my neck. “Did he…?”

“He was close, but no,” I tell him.

“I swear on all that’s holy, if Crow and the others haven’t already killed that Cruz fuck, I will.”

I laugh bitterly, which sends me into a painful coughing fit. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” I say when I’m able.

Mrs. West returns, and Ghost cuts me free. He carries me out of the bedroom, wrapped up in the blanket, and as he steps outside, his brothers pull into the driveway.

“I’m taking her to the clubhouse,” Ghost says. “Jackyl, meet us there.”

“On it,” the club doc says.

Crow helps Ghost get me situated in the back of my car and then helps Mrs. West into the passenger seat.

“Can you drive?” Ghost asks his president. “I need to stay close to her.”

“Sure thing, brother.”

When Ghost slides into the back seat, he cradles my head in his lap, careful not to jostle me too much.

“Em?” he whispers.

“Hmm.”

“Marry me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a plea. I open my mouth to put him out of his misery, to promise to marry him tomorrow if he wants, but before any words pass my lips, I pass out from the pain.