Burn: Men of Inked Heatwave #2 Read online

  I should’ve begged to be there.

  It wouldn’t have been the first time I faced danger, but at least I would’ve been there, and things could have been different.

  “What’s the plan?” Mom asks as I start to hyperventilate, unable to stop myself as I can’t get the air into my lungs easily.

  They took Pike.

  My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes, and the bile in my throat inches higher.

  Pike’s going to… I shake my head, not allowing myself to think the worst.

  “That’s so dangerous,” Mom whispers, looking over her shoulder at me again and grimacing.

  “Oh my God,” I groan, running toward the bathroom, hand clamped against my lips before everything escapes all over my mother’s hardwood floor.

  I lift up the seat, throwing myself over the top, and open my mouth, letting whatever’s coming work its way out. I groan as my chest heaves and my stomach lurches, the nerves taking over and rationality leaving my body with it.

  Tears stream down my face, plopping into the bowl and splashing as I pull away.

  This is it.

  This is what it feels like when you’re in love with someone and you know their life is going to end. I won’t get to say any final words, reminding him of how I feel. How I’ll always feel.

  My mother walks into the bathroom, dropping to the floor next to me, her knees hitting the marble tile. “Baby, your daddy wants to talk to you.”

  I take the phone, and then she grabs a hand towel, wiping my lips like I’m a baby. “Daddy,” I croak, unable to keep the panic from my voice. “What happened? Where’s Pike?”

  “Baby girl.” My father’s always calm, deep timbre comes through the speaker. “I don’t know how it happened, but there were other men there. But don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re going to find him.”

  Don’t worry?

  “Oh my God,” I whisper as the tears continue to fall because my father’s words aren’t making me feel any better.

  “We’re with Morris and the Disciples, making a plan. I promise, baby.” His voice cracks, and I know he’s tearing up, something my father rarely does, “I swear to God, I’ll bring Pike back to you.”

  I know my father. I know he’s a man of his word, but he’s not Superman. “You don’t know that,” I snap, my anxiety and sorrow getting the better of me.

  My dad blows out a breath, no doubt feeling the weight of my pain. “I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

  “How did this go so wrong?” I wipe the tears away from my cheeks and glance at the phone. “I thought Pike said this would be easy.”

  “Nothing’s ever easy, baby. Especially when you’re dealing with criminals.” He pauses as I sniffle, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming on. “The men would’ve killed us all if it weren’t for Pike, baby. He was brave today. Dumb, but brave.”

  “He’s a good man, Daddy.”

  I’ve told him this a million times. He never believed a word, too blinded by his rage about me growing up.

  My mom rubs my back, swaying from side to side as she tries to comfort me and humming a song she used to sing to me every night before bed.

  Dad grunts. “I know, baby girl. I know. I have to go now. We’re making a plan, and then we’re hitting the road. I’m going to bring him home.” There’s rustling and yelling in the background. “I’ll call as soon as we have him.”

  “Daddy!” I yell before he has a chance to hang up. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, Gigi. Hey, sugar?” His voice is so sweet and quiet as he asks for my mom.

  Mom gives me a sad smile, trying to put on a brave face for me. “Yeah, sweetie. I’m here.”

  “I love you too,” he breathes.

  “I love you. Just come home safe, City. Don’t be a hero,” she tells him. Her face pales as soon as he hangs up, even though she tries to hide it by turning her head.

  I drop the phone onto the rug and wrap my body around hers. “Shh,” she whispers, cradling me against her chest, rocking me like she used to when I had nightmares. “If anyone can save Pike, your daddy will do it.”

  If.

  She said if anyone can.

  No matter how scared I was at the Disciples’ compound when DiSantis was after us, at least I was there.

  I knew what was happening, but to not know anything is so much more frightening.

  “They’ll come home to us.” She runs her hand down the back of my head in slow, steady strokes. “I know your daddy, baby, and he’ll stop at nothing to make you happy.”

  “I don’t want Dad to get hurt either,” I whisper, choking back the tears that are lodged in my throat.

  My dad’s always been my hero. He seems immortal in my eyes, but I know he’s like every other man.

  He bleeds the same.

  Feels the same pain.

  Can die just like every other living thing on the planet.

  “He’ll be fine. They’re smart. He has all the guys with him, baby. Don’t work yourself into a panic.”

  Don’t work myself into a panic? There isn’t any work involved. I am there. My entire body feels the weight of what is happening.

  I lie there, letting my mother’s gentle rocking dry my tears, but the panic…it still grips me as I think about Pike.

  Is Pike hurt?

  Is he alone?

  Is he afraid?

  Are they torturing him?

  Is he already dead?

  There’re so many questions, each one filling me with dread, knotting my stomach into a tighter ball.

  “Hello!” Tamara yells out before I hear the front door slam so hard, I’d be shocked if the photos in the foyer are still hanging. “We came as soon as we heard.”

  I groan, not feeling like company or putting on a fake smile, pretending not to be completely terrified.

  “Come on, baby. Let’s go talk to Tam,” Mom says, lifting me off the floor as she tries to stand. “It’s not good to sit in here too long. I know you’re already thinking the worst.”

  I climb to my feet, swiping at my cheeks with the backs of my fingers, spreading the tears around more than wiping them away. Everything around me is fuzzy like I’m dreaming, but I know I’m very much awake. This isn’t a nightmare, but my new reality.

  Tamara’s in the hallway of my mother’s house, holding a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand and a box of chocolate in the other. “I came prepared,” she says, giving me a small smile, using the glass bottle to push her dark brown hair away from her face.

  “I’ll leave you guys be. I need a moment alone,” my mother mumbles, heading in the other direction without even giving Tamara or Austin a hug.

  I turn, following Tam’s gaze as she gawks at my mother. I wish I could comfort my mom in the same way she just comforted me. I know she’s going to cry. I know my mother better than anyone in the world. She consoled me, but she’s just as fearful for my father’s life.

  How could she not be?

  He’s her everything and has been for decades.

  “How bad is it?” Tamara asks as I turn to face her.

  “Bad, Tam. Really bad.” I shake my head, twisting my lips and blinking to stop myself from crying again.

  “Izzy called and told me to get my ass over here because shit went south. I’m not sure what that means, but I grabbed Austin and headed here…” She holds up the Jack, shaking it, but thank God, she doesn’t smile. “Want a drink?”

  “I want all the drinks,” I tell her, stepping toward the kitchen in heavy, slow movements like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.

  Austin’s on the couch, hunched over, holding his head.

  She goes to the cabinet, opens the door, and grabs two glasses as I slide onto the same barstool I’d been sitting on earlier. “What happened?” she asks.

  “They were ambushed, and they took Pike.” Saying the words still doesn’t make it all feel real. My gaze moves to Austin, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink.

  Tam
ara’s eyes widen as she sets down the glasses in front of her and freezes. “No shit. That is bad.”

  I nod, fighting back the tears. I will not cry again. I always tell Pike to keep calm, and I have to too.

  “They’re making a plan to rescue him.” I choke on the word rescue, but I somehow rebound, getting the last word out.

  “They’ll get him. Our guys never come home empty-handed,” Tamara reminds me.

  “Yeah,” I mumble, but I’m not even convinced by my answer. “You okay, Austin?”

  Austin grunts, not even looking up at us. “I’m fine,” he snaps, but we both know he’s lying.

  “It’s okay to be worried,” I tell him. “But I know my dad and uncles—they’ll stop at nothing to get Pike back.” And that’s exactly what I’m worried about too. Not only is Pike’s life in danger, they’re all in danger.

  “This is all my father’s fault,” Austin whispers before climbing to his feet and storming out of the house.

  “Leave him,” Tamara tells me when I start to move. “He needs time to process everything.” She presses the meaty part of her palms into her eyes and blows out a breath. “I’m not sure Jack was right for this situation. I think this is more a tequila type of crisis. You need to be completely shit-faced.”

  I’d laugh if things weren’t so grave. Breakups always called for the hard stuff because who wanted to remember their broken heart? But this is different. I don’t want to be passed out when…

  “Jack’s good,” I tell her, grabbing the bottle from her hands, not needing a glass. Her eyes widen as I twist off the top and lift the entire bottle to my lips.

  “Maybe you should…”

  I glare at her, opening my mouth, letting the amber liquid wash over my tongue and slide down my throat. I wince a little as my throat burns from the mix of hard liquor and vomit.

  “Damn, girl. You’re not playing,” she teases as her eyebrows shoot up, and I keep guzzling mouthful after mouthful.

  I pull the bottle away, gasping for air as I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

  She motions for the bottle, because Tamara is never one to be left out of a party, even if it’s not a happy occasion.

  I narrow my eyes and hold out the bottle to her, knowing damn well she isn’t going to take it. “I just puked and didn’t rinse my mouth. You really want to share?”

  She shakes her head as her lip curls. “Bitch, you should’ve used a glass. Gross.”

  I climb off the stool, taking the bottle with me as I walk around the couch and plop down. “I’ve never felt so helpless, Tam. They don’t even know where he is.”

  She’s next to me a moment later, tearing off the plastic wrapping on the cheap box of chocolates I’m sure she picked up at the drugstore. “What happened exactly?”

  I tell her the limited details my father shared, leaving nothing out. Her eyebrows move around as if they have a life of their own as she gawks at me like I’ve just told her the craziest tale.

  “Well, Jesus,” she mumbles, holding a piece of chocolate near her lips but not taking a bite. “Doesn’t he have one of those fancy-ass watches? I mean, why don’t they just track him through GPS?”

  I gasp, leaping from the couch and immediately regretting all the Jack. My knees wobble as soon as my feet touch the floor, but I catch myself on the armrest before my face has a chance to get up close and personal with the floor. “You’re a genius,” I tell her, crouched over, waiting for the room to stop spinning. “A goddamn genius.”

  She shoves the chocolate into her mouth, smiling at me. “I know. I’ve always known,” she replies while chewing.

  I glance around, my eyes blurry from the tears that still haven’t stopped and dizzy as a motherfucker. “My phone. Oh my God, where’s my phone? I have to call my dad and tell him.”

  Tamara pushes the chocolates to the side, running toward the kitchen. “I’m on it,” she snaps as she grabs my phone and starts tapping away at the screen.

  “Yeah, baby?” Dad asks before Tamara’s made it back to me.

  “Daddy, I know how to find Pike.” I speak so fast, it comes out like one single long word.

  “Tell me,” he replies, and for the first time in what feels like hours, I don’t feel so useless anymore.

  18

  Pike

  “Just kill him,” a man orders like he’s not talking about taking a man’s life.

  My life.

  The voices are muffled and distant like I’m dreaming, but I know I’m very much alive.

  I can’t see anything, but I feel everything.

  The dampness of the blood that’s pooled near my hand after they decided a hammer to the pinkie would make me talk.

  The cold cement against my cheeks as I lie on my side, gasping for air after they used my stomach to clean their boots, kicking me so many times, I lost count.

  “He could be useful,” another man replies somewhere behind me.

  “We have the key. What more do we fuckin’ need?” the asshole who wants to kill me asks.

  “I know he means something to the Disciples. Maybe we could…”

  “Don’t be a dumb fuck,” the asshole snaps. “The Disciples aren’t going to give us shit. They wanted the key, but it’s a good thing this kid’s father is such a fuckin’ talker.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to have Chev spying either,” the dumbass says, and I know exactly who they’re talking about.

  Chev earned his cut after I left. He wasn’t very talkative, but he took orders without question, always delivering what was required. When the Disciples find out they have a rat in their ranks, they’re going to kill him in the most painful way possible.

  If they find out.

  I try to open my eyes, but the swelling is so bad, nothing’s clear.

  All I have is the darkness for solace. “Just kill me,” I groan the plea, my voice barely loud enough for anyone but me to hear.

  I’d rather die than be a pawn in their sick game.

  “Shut up!” a man yells, before something connects with my jaw, snapping my head backward.

  The searing-hot pain quickly follows, slicing through my system from my face to my lungs. I gasp, choking on my own blood, wishing they’d just put me out of my misery already.

  “He’s heard too much. Seen even more,” another man explains, his voice icy and calm. “Drop him in the Everglades. You know the spot.”

  “Should we kill him here?” Dumbass asks.

  “No. He can walk into his watery grave,” Asshole replies.

  I’m sorry is my silent apology to Gigi, knowing I’ll never get to see her beautiful face again. The pain I’ve endured at the hands of my captors is nothing compared to the agony she’ll feel from my death.

  I swallow down the metallic taste coating my tongue, fighting through the pain, reveling in my final hours of being alive.

  There’s so much about my life I’d change if I could, but if living longer means never being with Giovanna Gallo, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. I’d die today to know her love. I’d willingly end my life early for an ounce of her softness. She is everything I ever wanted and never had until recently.

  I may be taking my last breaths, but I don’t have any regrets. The men who live on because I’m here, lying on the ground, have families, and they’ll do everything in their power to make sure Gigi carries on. She’ll marry someday and have babies.

  My chest aches, thinking of their tiny faces looking so much like their mother and knowing I won’t be their father. It’s a selfish thought, but one I can’t stop myself from having.

  Hands slide over my arm, gripping me roughly. “Up you go, princess. You’re about to get your wish.”

  I groan, finding my footing but still unable to see more than a thin line of light. “Fuck you,” I snap, twisting my shoulder as he tries to pull me upright. “Get your damn hands off me.”

  “He’s a live one,” the asshole adds. “He would’ve been a good soldier.”

  A loud explosion
throws me backward, sending my knees and face back against the cement. I groan as the metallic taste of my blood fills my mouth again, and the shooting pain from hitting the concrete ricochets up my legs.

  Gunfire and yelling ring through the room, along with the ringing from the explosion echoing in my ears that I can’t seem to stop. I collapse, sprawling out on the cool, damp floor, letting the sweet ache of my injuries remind me I’m still very much alive.

  But not for much longer.

  “Take his ass outside!” someone yells, a voice I know. A voice I’ve heard a million times. “Get him out of here quick.”

  The gunfire doesn’t stop as heavy bootsteps come near. “Pike, holy fuck,” Morris groans. “Jesus Christ.”

  Yeah. I’m pretty sure I look as shitty as I feel.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” he orders, touching my arm gently like there aren’t bullets whizzing near his head.

  I lift myself to my knees, wincing as pain shoots up my thighs and causes me to gasp for air. I reach out, finding his hands in the darkness, still unable to see. “Morris,” I whisper, thinking I’m imagining he’s here.

  “Yeah, shithead. Get up, or I’m going to poke you in the eyeball to get your ass moving.”

  That’s Morris. He’s such a sadistic fuck. I have no doubt, in this moment, bloodied and busted as I am, he would fucking poke me. He punched me when I was shot; why wouldn’t he do the same now?

  Even with the pain, I muster a crooked smile. “You came.”

  “If you don’t get your ass moving, we’re both going to be dead,” he tells me, pulling my entire body weight forward until I find my footing.

  I hold on to his arm, letting him be my eyes because no matter how hard I try, I can’t see a fucking thing. When the warmth hits my skin, I know we’re outside but nowhere near safe.

  “The guys,” I wheeze.

  “They’re big boys with even bigger guns.” Morris pats my hand. “They’ll be okay.”

  “Leave me and go back.” I stop walking, letting my hands fall away from his arm. “Don’t save me and risk their lives. Go, Morris. If you ever loved me, go save them,” I plead.

  “Always a fuckin’ problem,” Morris groans, placing his meaty hand on my shoulder. “Don’t move. Stay here.”