Corrupting Cinderella (20 page)

Irish Storm wears a serious expression as he bounces up and down, then scans the crowd.

Wrath’s opponent has the big and scary thing down pat, but he’s nowhere near as terrifying as Wrath.

“Our next fighter scares the shit out of even me. Undefeated in the underground, he doesn’t come out of hibernation often, but when he does, it’s scary as fuck! Hope you were careful placing your bets because they say the last thing to grow old in a man is Wrath!”

As introductions go, it lacks the fire I expected. But the crowd eats it up. The volume inside the room explodes. I don’t think as many people have bet against Wrath as we think.

He’s the only one tonight who has music playing when he walks out. I recognize the song as “The Way of the Fist,” and I snort with laughter. “That’s an appropriate song choice.”

Rock looks at me like he’s surprised I know it, but he forgets I spent three years of law school chasing Sophie around heavy metal shows on the weekends.

Wrath strolls into the room as if he’s stepping into his favorite bar. Casual, like he does this every night of the week. Shirtless, his bulky muscles ripple under his tattooed skin. He’s wearing those low slung, shiny athletic shorts I’ve always found rather sexy, and I see even his legs are covered in ink. As he turns full circle, I spot WRATH tattooed in bold, black, contoured letters across his shoulders. A Lost Kings tattoo, similar to the one that brands Rock’s skin, is situated below. I figure he’s had the Wrath tat longer than he’s been in the MC. As he turns our way, Z leans over and whispers into Trinny’s ear. We’re sitting close enough that I catch the scowl on Wrath’s face.

“Knock it off, Zero,” Rock warns.

“What? Just making sure—”

“You’re wrong.” Trinity cuts him off.

“Yeah, that why you been up in his bed every night for the last two weeks?” In a lower voice that I don’t think I was meant to hear, he says to her, “I don’t remember you ever spending an entire night with me.”

She grits her teeth. “Shut. Up.”

“Don’t break his concentration, Z,” I snap at him, surprising myself.

Z gives me an amused look—thankfully he doesn’t seem to be offended. Although he might be trying to rile Wrath, he’s also upsetting Trinity. And let’s face it, I may not like Wrath all that much, but I don’t want to see him get hurt either.

Some sort of bell sounds, and we turn our attention to the ring. The fighters knock knuckles, and then it’s game on. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s both stunning and ghastly.

Irish rushes around the ring with an abundance of energy. He shuffles from foot to foot, darts back and forth. After a few exploratory jabs where he catches nothing but air, he backs up. Wrath is surprisingly quick. I also get the impression he’s toying with his opponent.

When Wrath finally attacks, I get a visual representation on the true meaning of
violence
.

The crowd explodes. People rush to get to the ring. We can’t see, so Trinity and I hop up on the bleachers.

Wrath is beautifully brutal. He lands punch after punch until blood pours from the kid’s nose. Irish ducks and tries for Wrath’s legs, to take him to the ground. What a mistake, though, because Wrath rams his knee in his opponent’s face and lights into him with his fists again. Last, he crashes his elbow into the center of Irish’s nose, and the kid crumples to the ground. There’s blood everywhere, and without thinking, a scream tears out of me.

Rock wraps his hands around my waist and plucks me off the bench. “Stop screaming,” he shouts.

“Is he dead? Did Wrath kill him?”

“Probably not,” Rock answers in a much more normal tone of voice.

“Probably?”

“They know what they’re signing up for, Hope.”

The fight is called in Wrath’s favor, and almost instantly, we’re pushed around with the movement of the crowd. People are yelling and rushing toward the window to get their cash.

Teller collects our slips and takes off, Murphy right behind him.

“Prez, we gotta get out of here,” Z says in a low, urgent tone. Trinity and I are mashed up between Rock and Z as they keep us protected from the crowd. I peek around Rock and sigh in relief when I see Wrath coming at us. His bare chest is covered in sweat and blood, but he’s muscling into a T-shirt as he approaches. His jeans are unbuttoned, shiny gym shorts sticking out, boots unlaced, and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Trinity wriggles out from under Z and runs right into Wrath. “Whoa, I’m fine.” He wraps her up in a hug and kisses the top of her head. Even with all the chaos around, the three of us stop to stare.

“Wrath, we gotta go,” Z warns.

He looks up and nods once, then slips a skull cap over his bright blond hair. As a unit, we all move toward one of the side exits. The wash of cold air is a relief. Teller and Murphy are standing tight against the outside wall, waiting for us. Wrath has hold of Trinity’s hand now, and she seems to have calmed down.

“I’m in a spot around the back,” he informs Rock.

“Fuck. We’re in the lot over.”

“We’ll meet up at the gas station at the bottom of the hill.”

Everyone agrees, and we part ways.

“What’s wrong, Rock?” I ask as I try to keep up the fast pace the guys have set.

He slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. “Just don’t want to be here when things get rowdy. Some people lost a lot of money.”

Once we slip through the fence, the five of us break into a sprint across the parking lot. All around us, the sounds of cars and bikes are coming to life. Rock tosses a plain black hoodie at me. After I slip it on, he thrusts my helmet into my hands. We take off at a normal pace with Z in front of us.

Normally, I would rest my head against Rock and close my eyes. But tonight is not a joyride. I feel like I should be alert and aware of what’s going on around us, if it’s at all possible.

We don’t stop at the gas station. Wrath sees us coming and joins us. He takes over the front position, and Z falls behind.

Once we’re clear of the Ironworks city limits, I feel better. We’re taking the long way back to Empire, and it’s all winding, deserted county roads. I start to relax and even slide my hands under Rock’s shirt to rest them against his rippling muscles.

Suddenly, Teller appears on our left, wearing a severe expression as he tries to signal to Rock. I turn slightly to see what’s got him spooked. A dark SUV is barreling down on us. Z is weaving back and forth to keep the truck away. Murphy is coming up on our other side.

“Rock!”

“Hang on.”

He motions Teller and Murphy to get up alongside Wrath.

We’re traveling a lot faster than Rock’s ever taken me, and as I look at the drop off along the side of the road, I’m terrified we’re not going to make it out of this.

The SUV is so close I hear the engine straining. I’m frightened something has happened to Z.

Rock’s trying to slow the bike down, but the SUV keeps pace and keeps pushing us to the right. The cliff isn’t as steep here, but it’s still a fucking hill not meant for two-wheel travel. Which one is more likely to kill us? Being squished by two tons of steel or flying down the slope into a tree?

Neither option appeals to me.

“Hold on as long as you can!” Rock shouts. I guess that means he’s considered our options and chosen plan B. As the wheels edge off the pavement, the bike jerks, and I struggle to stay upright. We’re bouncing down the hillside a lot faster than feels comfortable. Near the bottom, we collide with a downed tree, throwing us both clear of the bike.

I land hard in the grass. My palms sting from bits of gravel that have migrated down the hill over the years. My right side is in agony. Slowly I inventory my body parts. Legs, feet, arms, hands. Check, check, check. Ouch. My hands are a bloody mess.

And whoever pushed us off the road isn’t done with us.

Bullets whiz wildly down the hill. I can just barely see the lights from the SUV stopped on the side of the road. I don’t see Rock anywhere. I start crawling on the ground until I reach the bike. On the other side of the log, I spot Rock.

“Hope?”

I hurry to his side in a crouch.

“Are you okay?” My hands fly over his body, checking for injuries.

“Thank God. Are you hurt, baby?” he rasps.

After the spectacular fall we took, I don’t think the few scrapes on my palms count as being injured. “No.”

Trinity comes out of nowhere. Her face is streaked with mud, and tears are running down her face. Rock is instantly alert.

“Where is he, Trinny?”

“This way.” She points behind her. “He’s not moving, Rock. It’s bad.”

Someone above is returning fire, and the bullets have stopped flying our way. For now. Trinity and I rush to follow Rock. He turns and hands me a gun.

A fucking gun.

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

I slip it into the pocket of my hoodie and pray I don’t accidentally shoot my boob off.

When we reach Wrath, he’s groaning, and Trinity bursts into tears again.

“Stay quiet, man,” Rock says as he puts a hand on Wrath’s chest.

Rock has another gun in his hand. Where the fuck has he been hiding this arsenal?

“Hope, what did you do with the gun?”

“It’s in my pocket.”

He looks about ready to throttle me, and I feel completely useless. “Give it to Trinity.”

I hand it over, and she checks it like a badass.

“Stay with him,” Rock says to both of us.

Trinity looks down at Wrath once more, and then she’s on alert. Wrath starts moaning, and I grab his hand.

“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” I soothe.

“My leg,” he groans.

I run the back of my hand over his cheek and forehead, and it comes away soaked with blood. More gunshots. Trinity is completely still and aware.

“Trin?”

“Right here, Wyatt,” she answers without looking down at us.

He struggles to get up, but I stop him with a hand against his chest. “Wrath, don’t. You could have something broken. Plus, there’s still guys shooting at us.”

He croaks out, “Prez?”

“He’s okay.”

Thankfully, Wrath seems to be coming around. He realizes I’m holding his hand, and he squeezes it tight. “It’s going to be okay, Hope.” The guy with the broken leg reassures me.

Good grief.

He opens his eyes and looks up at me with concern. “This is why I been tryin’ to push you away, Cinderella. So you don’t get hurt.”

Tears cloud my vision. “Wrath,” I sigh. His eyes drift shut.

I check him over for other injuries, and he sucks in a painful breath when I get to his left leg.

“I think it’s broken.”

He grunts and opens his eyes again. “No shit.”

I don’t have a lot of light to inspect the damage to his head, but I try to locate the cut. It’s not as bad as I feared, but still bleeding a lot.

“Ow, fuck. Watch it,” he growls.

He grabs my hand again, holding me still.

“I don’t know what to do,” I cry miserably.

“Just keep holding my hand. My leg really fucking hurts.”

“Okay.”

It’s quiet up above now. A shiver works over Wrath, and I whip off my sweatshirt, covering as much of his torso as I can with it. I rub my hand over his chest, trying to keep him warm. Tires squeal, and it sounds like the SUV is getting the hell out of there. A few seconds later, two bikes roar to life and take off as well.

The snapping of twigs and crunch of gravel announces someone is coming.

“Trin, it’s me and Z—don’t shoot,” Rock’s voice comes out of the darkness.

She makes a clicking noise with the gun and shoves it in the back of her pants. I’m still holding Wrath’s hand and running my other hand over him, but I think he passed out.

“You girls okay?” Z asks.

I’m watching to make sure Wrath is still breathing, so I only nod. Rock kneels down beside me and puts his hand on my arm.

“Honey, you’re shivering.”

“Afraid he’s going into shock. He needs an ambulance bad.” My voice comes out all quivery.

“A driver stopped. He’s calling 911. That’s what finally chased those fuckers off.”

“His leg, Rock. And his head.”

He takes out his cell phone. The shattered screen still provides enough light for Rock to shine it over Wrath’s head to check the cut.

“Get that outta my face,” Wrath grumbles.

“Well, his personality is fine,” Z jokes.

“Fuck off.”

Finally, sirens pierce the air.

Z takes off to meet the ambulance and explain where we’re located.

Trinity kneels next to Wrath and takes his other hand.

He finally opens an eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answers softly.

His eyes close, and a shiver works over him. “I’m really fucking cold, guys,” he grits out.