“She was already shot when I found her. She won’t say who did it, but I expect it was one of the HOCs.”

“Why didn’t you say anything when we spoke?” Warner inspects me, lifts my shirt, grimaces. His face twists with disgust as he eyes first the nasty bullet wound and then the dirt on my feet.

“Don’t touch me,” I gasp out and tug away from him. Every second I fight not to pass out, because I know I can’t afford to lose consciousness right now.

“There wasn’t anything I could do about it. As it is, I’ll have to spend all day cleaning the evidence from the car or burn the thing.” Davis jerks on my cuffed wrists. “Now, do we still have a deal or not?”

Warner pulls an envelope from the inside of his suit coat. “It’s all there. Uncuff her.”

Davis takes hold of the cuffs on my wrists, and I feel them fall away a second later. As a parting gift, after he takes the envelope from Warner, Davis pushes me forward. Suddenly I know what it feels like to be stabbed with a red-hot poker. Pain like I’ve never felt washes over me. I scream and my body bows. A veil of white clouds my vision for a moment before color and then the desert returns.

When I come to, I’m nearly on my knees except Warner’s holding me. He helps me stand. Then picks up some of my bangs using two fingers and moves them from my eyes. I feel a pang in my heart when he does it, because it’s all wrong, and it makes me ache for Mav with every bone in my body.

If only it were Mav holding me right now. Mav’s murmuring in my ear. Mav telling me he’s going to take me away from here for a long while.

But no, those are Warner’s words and his breath making the sour feeling in my stomach build.

Oh, God, what have I done?

I promised Mav I wouldn’t disappear on him like Dana did. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. I have no doubt that he’ll search for me, and try to fix his mistake. But by the time he does me, it’ll probably be too late.

I hear a car door open and slam. Then Davis’ vehicle starts and he drives off, leaving me alone to face Warner’s demons on my own.

“Jesus, look at you. What did they do to you, Em?” His nose scrunches up as he examines me. He always did have a thing against blood and dirt. I can’t say I’m not pleased that he doesn’t find me desirable right now. That may just be my saving grace.

“Come on. Let me get you cleaned up.” Half-limping and half-hopping, he walks me over to the front of the SUV.

I know what this is. This is the calm before the turbulent storm. Right now there’s not a speck of darkness visible on the surface, but it’s there buzzing under his skin, waiting to make an appearance.

I think about Mav’s darkness and how it was always right there for me to see. Not hidden. And how he’d been fighting it, where Warner had always wanted to explore it further.

Mav didn’t want me afraid of him, and he hated hurting me.

Warner thrives on my fear. Craves seeing my pain.

He’s the real devil in my life.

After opening the passenger door, he pulls a bag from the floor up to the seat. Again, I think about running. I quickly scan the area while his back is turned. And find there’s nothing but sagebrush, treeless mountains, and desert.

He searches through the bag and pulls out a towel. Then a bottle of water and gets it wet. After shutting the door, he moves me to rest my back against the side of the SUV, and gently starts to clean the dirt and blood off me. First my face, then my arms and hands. When he lifts my shirt, he dabs the towel against my skin and works his way from left to right. From the uninjured side toward the finger size whole that’s surrounded by bruised flesh. I wince and flinch away from his touch. But he keeps going and begins to apply more pressure. I’m gasp, whimper, and begin to cry, even go as far as to push his hands away.

“Goddamn it, Em, hold still.” Warner’s nostrils flare, and he closes his eyes. When he blinks them open, the hairs on my neck rise. He swipes the towel closer to the entry wound.

Silent tears cascade down my face, and I dig my nails into the skin of my palms, bite my lip until I taste blood. My throat clogs with tears when I whisper, “Please stop, Warner. It hurts.”

“Why were you hiding from me?”

Any answer I give is only going to fuel the fire so I don’t reply.

His ministrations get rougher. “You’re not going to answer me? Six weeks, Ember. That’s how long I had to go without you. Do you know what that was like for me? How worried I was?” His blue eyes spark with malice. “And then I find out you have some scary ass biker for a father. How come you never told me you were some biker whore’s daughter?”

When I’m silent, he grips my chin and shakes it. “Do you realize because of you, I can’t go home? Go to work. Live a normal life. The Greenbacks are fucking psychos, Em. They’re not going to give up until they find the two of us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Not good enough, baby. Not even my father has been able to get us out of this. So like I said, we’re going away for a while. And I don’t want any shit from you, okay? We’ll come back when we’ve been able to work out some kind of deal with them.”

He stares down at me, and then his darkness recedes for a second. “If you’re really sorry, then show me you are, baby. Apologize. Tell me how much you missed me. Help me see that you’re the same girl I met and fell in love with. And get this”—he fingers my shirt and then tugs on Mav’s HOC emblem that still hangs around my neck—“off your body. It makes you look like white trash. Is that what you are? Some slut who sleeps around like her mother?”

“No.”

He smiles a beautiful smile, one that used to make me smile in return. “No. See that’s a good girl.” He tries to pull the necklace over my head.

I snatch it from his hand and hold on to it for all I’m worth. “No. I won’t take it off.”

His smile slowly fades. His eyes roam over me as his lip starts to curl. The muscles in his neck strain. “Take it off, Em. This is the only warning you’re going to get.”

I shake my head and brace for the consequences of my choice to hold on to Mav, because I think the hope of seeing him, Will, and Sunny again is all I have to live for at this point.

Warner grabs my face, digs his fingers into my cheeks, and slams my head against the window of the Escalade, making me rise to the tips of my toes. “Then wear it. Be a biker whore if that’s what you want to be. But don’t cry like a little bitch when I treat you like one.”

His other hand goes to his belt. He quickly unlatches it then pulls it from his pants. He spins me around and shoves me against the SUV. My face smashes against the glass.

The first hit of the belt lands across my shoulder blades. When I cry, buck, and squirm to break free, he tangles his hand in my hair and uses it to keep me where he wants me. Each time the belt lands somewhere new. My lower back, my ass, across my thighs, and then he starts from the top again and works his way down.

After it ends, before I can sag to my knees, I hear him unzip.

And I am nothing . . . nothing but fire. Fire is all I feel. Flaming through me as tears coat my face and neck, and mix with the sweat coating my skin. Panting, I suck oxygen into my lungs.

The boxers I’m wearing are ripped down my thighs and I know I have little time before he forces himself inside me.

“I slept with one of them last night. He didn’t use a condom.” If Warner’s anything, he’s a clean freak. And if I know him like I think I do, the idea of being inside me where another man has recently been, will repulse him.

Then I hear the rip of foil, and he pulls me back a step only to push me down to my knees. He forces my face into the dirt, so that with each inhale it’s sucked into my nose and mouth. I cough and try to wrestle away, but I have nothing left.