Rage's Story (Vanish Book 1) (8 page)

He’s still, frozen.

My eyes trace his body until they find it, my single shot, found its way between two ribs on his left side.

He coughs, blood spurts from his lips and falls back on them, dripping along his cheeks. It snakes through the lines. His head lifts like he’s about to check the wound, but then it drops again, bouncing against the pavement. “Shit,” he coughs.

I lower myself onto my knees beside him.

“Where is it?” he asks.

“Left side,” I say. “Lung.”

He looks into my eyes, terror.

Now resigned.

He closes his eyes, exhales. “Alright, Rage. Well done. That’s the end of it.”

I nod. Then I think, he didn’t just mean our feud. “The end of what?”

“The MC. Devi’s Right Hands. It’s all over now. You hear the shootout earlier tonight?”

I think back to the sounds I heard while I raced Auna back to her apartment. “The brothers?”

He nods as best he can. “All, dead. Shootout with some undercover cops, over this fucking stupid drug bullshit with the locals. And this girl, some dumb stripper, that fucking rich shit was hard over. Al, that dumb prick…” he tries rolling over, perhaps to stand, but it’s too much and he rolls back. “He’s dead, too. The cops, the dealers, our brothers, all dead. I walked through the carnage. I tripped over the bodies, got their blood on my shoes. I led them there, Wes. I did that. Sold to some little rich shit, then got involved with the local outfit running a game, should’ve stayed out of it. Should’ve stopped a long time ago.” He works himself into a fit, his breath grows short. He stares at me with fire in his eyes. “You killed dad. You killed our prez. If he were still here--”

“He’s the reason this happened, Evin.”

His eyes squint, but they fade. The red in his face recedes, leaving a pale white tone in his flesh. “Damnit, Wes. You could’ve come to me.” He raises his hand into the air.

I grab it firmly with mine. “You know I couldn’t have.” I feel him squeeze. “You would’ve killed me right there, at that moment.”

He scoffs. “You’re right.”

“Why didn’t you run? When you saw the bodies, knew it was over, why did you come?”

He looks into my eyes. “Finish.”

I can’t stop the tear from spilling over my cheek and running through my stubble. Fuck. Damnit, Evin, it didn’t have to end this way. “Come on,” I tell him, pulling on his arm.

His feet kick against the road, his heels scratching. I lift a little harder and he comes to his feet. He coughs again, blood dribbles off his chin. I half-carry him to the wreckage of his bike. I pull it off the wall of the bridge and steady it in the middle of the road. I stand Evin on his own two feet and hold his bike by the handle. “Ride,” I tell him.

He takes a moment pulling one leg over the bike, but when he sits into it, a second wave fuels his posture and he holds his chin up. I start it for him. He looks into my eyes.

“Don’t stop til the sun.”

He twists the handle and rides off. His bike wobbles, but he finds his balance. I watch for a second, then turn my back and walk back to my bike.

The morning is close.

13.

I ascend the stairs the familiar three flights and head towards her room, three sixty seven. It’s time, Auna.

The door is open. She’s not alone.

Aston.

You fuck.

I take a single, wide stride into the room, but Auna steps between us. She places her hand spread against my chest. She lifts herself by her toes, pressing her lips into mine, and for a moment the world is nothing but her taste.

When she releases, lowering herself back to her heels, she keeps my gaze. It’s nothing. He’s nothing, she tells me.

I feel her palm press against my chest, urging.

Don’t worry, Auna. Violence is over. The night is lifted.

As I step back through the open doorway, I catch sight of his face just once, a tear drenched scowl, but it’s not for her. How he stares down, I see it’s for him, for all he’s done. He destroyed his world, he knows there’s no place in it for her.

She grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs, her feet quickening pace as she nears the bottom like each step lifts a pound of weight from her shoulders, like wings are sprouting from her perfect shoulder blades and lifting her. I trace them in the space around her, fixed upon her by my eyes.

When we exit the building she twists about, searching eagerly. I watch her while I smile. When she gives in, staring back at me, I tilt my head towards the alley and she races towards it. She finds my bike and poses beside it. Her tan legs glimmer in the growing sunlight, her curves sultry and accentuated by the way she leans, bent forward hands gripping the leather seat.

“What do you say, Wes?”

Against it all, the hells behind her, the pain still hiding within, she plays. In rebellion to it all, she smiles back at me, sexy. The exhaustion lifts, youthful arrogance descends. We’re children. And nothing before now is real. Only the smooth touch of her skin and the aroma of her scent. I sit, and she sits behind me, her long arms wrap around my waist and her hands find their way beneath my shirt, exploring. Her fingers spread across my abs while I start the engine, the rumble vibrating through us. I let the wheel spin and we race out onto the road, race into the sunrise, into the day, running, running, away together...

*

See it from all sides. Read the other two books in the Vanish Trilogy to unravel all the mysteries of Westwood Valley

(Click the titles to visit the Amazon page)

Aston’s Story

Auna’s Story:
Coming Soon

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