Mine: Black Sparks MC (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Kirrily dashed out from behind the bar, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes were manic. “Tryg, what in bloody hell was going on back there? Why did Liana just walk out with that man?”

Nick looked at Tryg, wondering what kind of story he’d come up with. “Kirrily, it’s okay. It’s over. Liana’s okay,” he said, rubbing her arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you go home and get Kizzy ready for your trip?”

Kirrily looked at Nick, hands on hips, eyes flashing, demanding an explanation. She wasn’t buying for a second what her husband told her, but Nick couldn’t even begin to explain.

“Tryg Ryan, don’t you dare lie to me. That is not an explanation. I have to go pick up Kizzy, but if I can’t get it from you now, I’ll get it from Nick later.” She spun on her heel, picked up her handbag, and marched out of the bar.

“What trip?” Nick asked Tryg. Nick’s eyes darted to the array of crystals spread out behind the bar, which Kirrily used to, as she described it, promote a positive energy around the place.
What a joke
, Nick thought.

"She needed a vacation,” responded Tryg from behind him, “so I sent her to Cincinnati to meet with some guys from the Australian chapter of the club.”

"Sounds sketchy. Who are these guys?"

"Relax, Nick. Suspicion will kill you if you let it. I know these guys from when I was in Australia. So does Kirrily. It's like an extended family reunion for her. They can be trusted."

"Who's looking after the bar?" Nick asked, glancing behind him as if that held the answers. He eased himself down on a stool, facing away from the bar.

“I am,” piped up Cora’s voice from the back room.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"There's a shotgun behind the counter,” she called.

Nick turned away for a second, letting out an exasperated sigh as the petite woman placed a Wild Turkey on the rocks on the bar. He stared down into its depths, craving alcohol, knowing it was only a bandage for what ailed him. He felt the urge to smash it against the wall.

"You make it sound like I sent them into the Sarlacc pit. Kirrily knows these guys."

"I think you sent her away because you knew that if she were here, she'd call you on your bullshit for letting Liana leave with Jack. You know damn well Jack Camus is a fucking scumbag, but you're willing to throw your own niece under the bus because you think it will help you get to the Vipers. I've seen a lot of shit go down in this club, but this is by far the most despicable."

"I'm despicable? This coming from the guy who was willing to throw us all over for a woman mere days ago?"

"I turned him down, which is more than I can say for you."

"You heard her,” said Tryg, as Cora busied herself wiping down glasses. “She admitted she lied about everything she said about Jack. What else am I supposed to think? That's she's lying now?"

"Of course she is! She's lying because she's still terrified of him, and now she's terrified of you, too. She's trying to buy herself some time, the best way she knows how. "

"Do you really believe that, or are you only hearing what you want to hear?"

Nick paused, words stranded on the tip of his tongue.

"You know she's capable of lying. She’s done it before. Maybe she only came clean because she knew we had her cornered. You know,” Tryg said, tipping a glass to his mouth, his eyes still fixed on the younger man, “You said you haven't forgotten what she did to you, but I'm really starting to wonder."

"I wish I could forget, Tryg. I've tried. But I can only forgive."

"Forgive?" Tryg tipped his head back, wiped his mouth, and slammed his glass back on the bar as if it were too much for him to take. "There's no such thing as forgiveness. Not in this business. There's only revenge. You get them as good as they got you."

"You can't possibly believe that."

"My brother believed that."

"Trace? I don't buy it. Liana's dad may not have been a saint, but I know he put his family before anything. And you’re corrupting the very thing he built. Trace would be ashamed of you,” said Nick, feeling the whiskey burn inside him, fueling his rage.

"Nick, I'll pretend I didn't hear that, but you better get your shit together fast. Nobody else is in your corner. We're the only guys who ever believed in you. That girl sent you to prison, and it was only by the skin of your teeth that you made it out alive. I don’t think I have to remind you that I picked you up at the fucking bus station, trying to pick my pocket after some jagoff had robbed you of the last thirty bucks you had in the world.”

Nick had never been able to figure out why he had chosen the president of the Black Sparks to steal from, of all people. Even if he hadn't seen him around town, he would have known from the gigantic logo on the back of his jacket. Maybe it was a suicide mission--or maybe he just wanted to get his attention. In any case, it had worked. "I was just there to pick up a paper. I could have ripped you a new asshole, and I wanted to. Instead--"

"Instead you took the bill out and gave it to me." Nick swallowed, suddenly ashamed.

Tryg nodded. "You looked like you needed a friend, and you got a dozen of them. Remember that, kid. Nobody else in the fucking world would do that for you except a Spark. Except me." The side of Tryg's mouth turned up in a smile that was almost warm. "And then when I offered you a ride, you asked if you could drive."

"I thought I'd give it a shot." He looked up into Tryg's face, and suddenly felt five years younger. He reached up to touch a piece of his hair that had fallen in front of his face, and he looked at his own hand, suddenly feeling very awkward. Tryg could do that to him sometimes.

"And that's when I knew you were one of us."

Tryg was right. By the time he had gotten out of Circleville, he was eighteen – too old for foster care, too old for the social safety net that had been the only barrier between him and rock bottom. And as much as he hated to admit it now, it had been Liana, and his love for her, who had put him in that position. Tryg and the Sparks had been the ones who pulled him out. Any idiot would know where his loyalties should--and must--lie.

And yet, in the past few days he had spent with Liana, seeing the woman she had become, and the kind, generous girl she had been when he had first known her and continued to be, he knew the story was going to be different from the way everybody thought it would be written. There was a brand new book waiting for him to turn the page, and when he thought of Liana, he could only imagine the beautiful things written there. “I'm done with this,” he said, slamming his glass down, hopping off the stool while he still had his wits about him. If there was anything that trip down memory lane had taught him, it’s that he could no longer be that lost boy he once was; he could no longer be the one who relied on others to make the hard decisions. He didn’t know what the message in Liana’s eyes had been as Jack escorted her out, but he had to find out. “I’m going to go find Kirrily. We’ll--"

"Nick." Tryg's voice rumbled, deep in his chest “Think very, very carefully about what you're about to do. If you make the wrong choice, you will not recover from it. You want to see Martin Malone take over for you as Vice President? You want to see your own club burned to the ground by the Vipers? You want to see us driven out of our own territory? You know what they're capable of--the proof is that bullet hole on your shoulder. That was in our own territory, Nick. These guys have no qualms about murder, and you're damn lucky they stopped where they did. Because it can happen. Jack Camus can make it happen."

"He said he wouldn't."

"Now who's being naive?"

The room seemed to spin in circles. Nobody could be expected to make a choice like this. It was insane. It wasn't just the matter of choosing between being with Liana and being with the Sparks--it was a matter of letting Liana go with a man who terrified her, who was capable of god knew what. And nobody but him seemed willing to stand between them. Liana didn't have anybody to fight for her anymore.

“You were nobody before, and we can make you nobody again. I don't want to, but I will. You're the best man I ever had, and I believe in you. I believe in your ability to think ahead, to make the right choice.

"It's not--" Nick faltered, feeling like a child complaining to his dad.

"Not fair? Of course it's not fair. What in your life has ever been fair? These hard choices are what our lives are all about. We chose this when we chose to be outlaws."

He'd sealed it the second he'd chosen to get on the back of Tryg's bike in the bus station that night long ago, and later when he'd let the patch be sewn on his jacket and worn it with pride; anyone who looked at him would know that he would give his life for the Black Sparks, that he belonged. It was a feeling that meant everything to him, having never belonged anywhere, having been told he never belong anywhere, it was privilege, but it came with a price – a price he never realized the full value of until now.

A long slow, vibration sounded from the top of the bar. Tryg slowly raised his cell phone to his face, reading a text message, his eyes widening, jaw clenching. He put it down. "And anyway, it's too late."

"What do you mean?"

"She just ran."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Liana just closed her eyes, pumped her fists, and beat it—heart pounding, breath ragged, trying to blink away the image of Jack’s cruel mouth, of the weight of his arm around her like a lead vest, dragging her down to the bottom of some dark, murky sea. The idea that she had fled hundreds of miles away, only to end up back in his slimy, eel-like arms, was heavy on her mind, and she ran to outpace it. A cold breeze whirled around her as she ducked down a side street, into an alley behind a hair salon, hoping to buy some time.

She knew going back to the Ryans’ was impossible; Jack had infiltrated the Black Sparks; he knew where they lived; he’d know to look for her there immediately. It was impossible to find her way back to Helena’s, and the older woman hated her guts. She could go to the bus station, but there her journey would end, too. Maybe she could get in touch with Kirrily and hope her aunt would take pity on her, find her a place to lay low for a day, a week, a year. Not that she could count on even that, given that she’d defied Tryg and Kirrily was a Black Sparks wife. Her loyalty lay with him. Her tolerance of Liana could only continue insofar as she didn’t go against Tryg’s leadership.

And Nick—she didn’t dare think about Nick. She’d lied to him. Again. He’d never want to see her again, of course. But he’d have the Sparks, and that was what was important. His club was what he needed now, far more than he needed her. The best thing she could have done for him was giving him that. Even if it meant going back to Jack.

After all, she thought, her back sliding down the brick wall, lowering herself into the grime of the alley, perhaps he was what she deserved. Perhaps she had already made her bed. She had made too many mistakes, had hurt too many people. Perhaps she had already sealed her fate six years ago when she had thrown Nick to the wolves. The only thing left for her was atonement – to ensure she would never be able to hurt Nick again, to give him back his life, and his family. Even if that meant taking herself away from him forever; even if it meant feeding herself to a different more sinister wolf, to baring her throat, leaving it to be devoured. She shivered as a gust of wind kicked some old leaves, swirling them around her shoes, catching up with cigarette butts and fast food wrappers spilling out of a nearby garbage can. She held back a sob, burying her face into arms, but even her own body could offer no warmth. She wanted to sink into herself, collapse into the ground and disappear.

She should have admitted the real reason why she had come back to Prudence to Tryg, right from the beginning. If she had, there was a chance he might have been willing to believe her over Jack. But the fact that she had been so secretive sealed her fate. She didn’t want to play the part of the victim, or for anyone to know she’d put herself in the hands of a man who had hurt her, the exact same way her stepfather had. But now it was too late, and Tryg was convinced she was the selfish princess he’d always been convinced she had been. The only solution was to play along for now, and hope that she could buy herself enough time to find a way out, somehow.

But it would have to be without Nick’s help. She couldn’t get him involved with this. She had to set him free; she couldn’t tangle him again in her web of deception. He said he’d been prepared to burn his patch, to burn off his tattoos, and the last thing in the world she wanted was for him to do that. Not for her. She’d already taken so much for him, far more than he could afford.

Staring into the horizon, wiping her eyes, she realized the path she had been taking seemed strangely familiar, something she remembered from long ago. Dusting herself off, moving with purpose to keep from dwelling on her despair, she darted out of the alley and toward the street sign. Seeing the name of a familiar street, she picked up the pace, craning her neck to see what lay ahead, sheltered by the budding elms that lined the streets—the wealthiest parts of town always had the leafiest trees, she’d noticed. In any case, that hadn’t changed. Sounds and smells came back to her—pencil shavings, new textbook glue, diesel exhaust from the school bus. This was the path she used to take home from school to what had been her home as a teenager—Noel Richardson’s house. It crossed her mind that this might be answer as to where she could hide—at least temporarily. Nobody, not even Jack, would expect her to return to the place where she’d spent the most miserable parts of her childhood.

She didn’t know who owned it now, nobody related to Noel. Some other pillar of Prudence society, she figured, a city councilman or a banker, somebody who felt it was their birthright to live in a brick three-story house on a corner, three-acre lot, with a gigantic flagpole and cobblestone path leading up to the whitewashed front door. No wonder Nick had hated it here—he must have felt totally and completely out of place from the minute he arrived, with nothing to his name but a couple changes of clothes stuffed into a worn Eastpak. She remembered that day, how she’d looked down from her bedroom window, peering into the yard from where a prim woman in a state car had unceremoniously dropped him off.  That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve better things in life—it just meant he wasn’t used to them, and didn’t know how to behave when he got them.

As she approached, she was surprised to see a “For Sale” sign on the lawn, complete with the tanned, white-toothed smile of a pretty young realtor named Becky Summers. There were no cars in the driveway, toys on the lawn, or any other signs of recent habitation. She tried the entrance to the service door. Somebody, perhaps the realtor, was maintaining the gardens, but, other than that, nobody was home. That didn’t mean it wasn’t risky. There were bound to be neighbors checking in on the house, if not the realtors themselves. If the cops came, there was a good chance she was as good as back with Jack. He seemed to have every cop in the country eating out of his hand. Still, she’d rather take her chances with the devil she didn’t know.

Skirting around the back of the house, wading through the daylilies growing around the garage, she tried the service door, surprised when the latch opened immediately. She paused, hand on the cold knob rethinking her plan. Wouldn’t a realtor have been more careful about locking up such a valuable piece of property?

Fumbling for the light on the wall, her fingers flipped the switch came face to face with Nicholas Stone. Her stomach dropped into her feet, and she slammed the door, pressing herself against the sun-warmed brick of the house.

She knew it was only matter of time before the door swung open again. She should run, she knew. She couldn’t keep being his femme fatale. But at the same time, why did seeing his face again, after the initial shock, feel so right? Why did it make her want to grab onto his shirt, murmur apologies, and never let go? Because she now knew how little time she might have before someone dragged her away from him again? Because she never expected to get this chance to begin with? Before, the hinges squeaked, and Nick’s shadow fell over her. She curled into herself, blood rushing into her head.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Get in here before somebody sees you.” He grabbed her by the shirt, but she spun away.

“Nick, what the hell are you doing here?” she asked, staring straight ahead at the window of the neighbor’s house, glad the curtains were drawn. It couldn’t hurt to step into the garage where she wouldn’t risk being seen.

Nick closed the door firmly behind her and took a step forward, reaching out his hand slightly, as if he meant to touch her, soothe her, reassure himself that she was okay. But he seemed to sense the look on her face, and snatched his hand away at the last minute. “You ran away from Jack Camus, Liana. If I didn’t find you first, he would, and you know what would happen then.”

“But how did you know I’d be
here
?”

Nick leaned his frame against the unfinished wood and smirked. “Come on, Liana. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. You were on foot, so you couldn’t get far. You’d be looking for someplace you knew, but where nobody would think to look for you. And I knew the house was for sale. I do live in this town, after all.”

“But how did you get in?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, flipping it over in his hand. Liana groaned. “Don’t tell me. Becky Summers?”

“She’s none too bright, but she’s good at her job.”

“Loaning out the houses she’s selling as crash pads for local outlaws?”

“Not any local outlaws. Just the cute ones.”

“But
why,
Nick?”
she demanded.
“
You were free, and still you came back to find me. Why?” she asked, again, bringing her hands to her head, turning slightly. “Why do you
care
?”

“Liana.”

She turned away. She could already feel her lower lip quivering, and she bit down on it fiercely, hoping he wouldn’t see. Now was not the time to break down, not in front of him.

“Don’t make me answer that question. Not again.”

Of course he’d already answered it; he’d already shown her, in every possible way, that he cared. He was here. He was risking his life, his livelihood, when he could have just as easily hopped on his bike and rode in the opposite direction, away from her, away from this entire mess she had made. But he hadn’t. He was here. And that was all that mattered.

In an instant, Liana had thrown herself into his arms, overcome by the desire to be enveloped by him one more time. After all, she didn’t know when she’d ever get another chance. She didn’t think she’d ever have this one. When she spoke those words in the Black Sparks clubhouse, she thought she’d thrown him away forever, and that he’d accept that. She’d forgotten who she was dealing with. “You idiot.” 

She hoped he would kiss her, and when he lifted his chin to press his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes, giving herself over the sensations shooting through her. 
It was okay for now. It wouldn’t be okay later, but it was okay for now.

“You know there’s no way out of this,” she murmured into his shoulder, afraid to speak the words, knowing that if she did, he’d bear as much of the burden of them as he could. “Not for me. Not for you.”

He didn’t answer right away, and she felt his muscles tense a little, his rough hand curling against the small of her back. He was formulating a plan, she knew. She clung to this, futile as it probably was.

At last he drew back, holding held her at arm’s length. Liana blinked up at him. “Maybe not if we stay in Prudence.” Nick stared down at the cement floor briefly, as if taking a split-second to make up his mind, finally, irrevocably. “We’ll leave. We’ll go somewhere else. Out of Prudence. Out of Ohio. Out of the country, if we have to. I mean, Jack’s good, but he’s not Superman. He’s not Interpol. He can’t find us if we’re careful, if we cover our tracks. We’ll live in a log cabin somewhere. On an island. On...on Fiji,” he said, hesitating, stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

“Australia,” Liana whispered.

“What?”

“Australia. Like where Kirrily’s from,” she said, the enthusiasm building in her voice. “She used to tell me stories about it all the time, about the Aboriginal people who lived nearby.

“You mean like the outback?” asked Nick. She knew images of kangaroos and the Crocodile Hunter were running through his head.

“Well, yeah. But there are cities, too, you know. It’s the world’s biggest continent made up of a single country. Plus, there are also coral reefs, and rainforests. It’s beautiful, and Kirrily’s got family there.”

“So people do live there?” joked Nick. “I mean, besides Russell Crowe.”

“The last I checked. In fact, people used to go there all the time to start new lives,“ she remarked. “Mostly Irish ex-cons,” she said with a laugh.

“Well then I’ll fit right in,” said Nick. Liana slapped him on the shoulder. 

“But beyond that, it’s about fucking time I got out of this hellhole and experienced something new.”

Liana shook her head. “No.” She could tell in his voice that he was confident, his jaw set steely, but there was a hesitance behind his words. He was already rethinking his grandiose plan, she knew. Maybe it was better that way. “It’s impossible, Nick. I don’t know how to find a place to live in Australia. I could barely pay my rent in New York. Plus, what about the Sparks? Tryg made an agreement with Jack that I would go back to him, and I told him I would. That was the deal. They’ll disown you if you go against it.