Bounty:Fury Riders MC(80)

Let me go, Jax. Those were her last words to me, before turning the gun on herself.

"I took the gun and left her there. I knew if I called the police,  they'd immediately think it was me. So I went to town, to one of the  payphones. Called them anonymously, told them about a body in the woods.  She was only there for a little while, man. I didn't leave her out  there. It was so cold outside, they had no idea how long it had been  since she died because her body temperature went down so fast. She  wasn't even wearing a coat."

Adam is sobbing. "My sister … " His head is in his hands, the bottle  forgotten on the floor. I move to the couch, beside him, and put my arm  around his shoulders. He leans into me, crying. He doesn't push me away.  I know he believes me. "My baby sister."

"I know. I know."

"Wasn't she pretty?" he asks, sobbing.

"She was. She was beautiful."

"She always wanted everything to be nice, didn't she?"

"Yeah. She decorated the house like something out of a magazine. She'd  always have fresh flowers everywhere. She wanted it to be special. She  was funny and sweet and kind. She rescued Blue, you remember? Found him  on the side of the road after a truck hit him. Insisted we take him to  the vet, nursed him back to health. She had a big heart." I don't want  to think about the lying, thieving person she became. Like I told Adam,  that wasn't her. That miserable, scheming person wasn't my wife. She  might have been my wife again by the time she pressed the muzzle of my  Glock to her chest, clear-headed at last. But it had been a long time  since she'd had clarity.

"Why didn't you just tell me? Years ago?" He's finally calm enough to speak clearly.

"I knew it would hurt. I mean, not only did she kill herself, but she  was stealing from the club. Sleeping with Frankie. I didn't know you  knew about the H. I wanted to keep it from you."

"You've been living with this all this time. I can't believe it."

"I blamed myself. I still do."

"Jax … it wasn't your fault."

"It was. If I could have kept her away from the drugs … or let her know I  loved her anyway … maybe she wouldn't have ended up with Frankie. If I'd  been fast enough to stop her, she wouldn't have shot herself. There were  things I could have done."

"Listen. Marissa was a beautiful girl. I loved her so much. I still do."  Adam looks at me. "But she also had mental health issues, outside the  drugs. I know you had to think there was something wrong with her. She'd  have her happy moods, her upswings. Then she'd crash. Remember?"

"Yeah, I do remember that. She'd be on a buzz for, like, days. Then she wouldn't get out bed for two days straight."

"Exactly. Our mom and dad … they weren't what you'd call attentive."

I snort. That's an understatement.

He nods. "Yeah, you remember. They wouldn't take her to a doctor when  she was young. They didn't get her the help she needed. She probably hit  a low swing at the same time she was guilty over Frankie and the rest.  It was a combination of things. That's what killed her. Not you."

"You believe me," I say.

"I do."

I can't describe the relief that floods me when he says those words.  I've just wanted him to believe me all this time. I didn't care about  anybody else, since Adam was the one I was closest with.         

     



 

"I'm sorry for everything … " he mumbles.

"I know. I don't blame you." Now that he trusts me again, I have to move on.

"There's a reason I came here. I needed you to believe me, that I'm not  the person you thought I was, before I could ask for your help."

"What's going on, Jax? Why are you hiding?"

"It's Christina. I was with her last night because her ex was stalking  her. He sent her a threatening letter in the mail. She ran away from him  a long time ago, but once she got it, she knew he found her."

"Oh, shit. Poor kid."

"She's gone. He took her." Adam's eyes fly open, wide. "I got to her  house, there was blood on the floor. It had to be him. I have to get to  her."

"Shit, Jax! What do you need?" He jumps from the couch much faster than  I'd think he would, drunk as he is. It's like he as a purpose right now.

"Your bike. They'll find me in a minute if I'm on mine. They wanna pin  this on me, man. They haven't even tried to look for her."

"Oh, hell." Adam gets out his keys. "Man, if I have anything to do with this-the way I accused you to them-I'm so sorry."

"I know." I go to the door.

"Where are they, do you think?"

"Somewhere in Texas. Maybe five, six hours away. Their college. I think he took her there."

"She's a nice girl. Be safe, brother." He hugs me for the first time in years.

As I run down the front steps, he calls out to me. "I'll hide in here so they think I'm just out somewhere!"

"Thank you!" I wave once before pulling away. He's right. They're going  to hit his house soon enough. All my old friends. Why not head for my  brother-in-law's house first? I'm honestly surprised they haven't shown  up already.

I take off into the night, heading south. I haven't prayed in years, and  even then I was never exactly a regular at it. But I pray now. Please  let me get to her in time. I've already lost another twenty minutes  talking with Adam. I had to convince him to protect me if the cops came,  along with convincing him to give me his bike. Now I know he's back on  my side.

As I ride, images of Marissa and Christina fill my mind. I can't lose them both.





Chapter 34

Christina

How long have I been in this trunk? I have no idea. There's no way to  keep track of time. At first I started counting, keeping the seconds  straight in my head. By the time I reached ten thousand seconds, I got  tired and gave up. I did the math in my head the best I could. Almost  three hours. Jesus. How much longer were we driving?

Maybe while he's driving, he'll change his mind. Come to his senses.

Yeah, right.

My nostrils are full of the smell of his cologne, on the clothes all  around me. I'd hoped never to smell it again. The scent brings me back  to so many moments I wanted to forget. I can't believe I used to like  smelling it on me after a date. That feels like a lifetime ago. In some  ways, it was. I especially loved when he left traces of it on my pillow  after we slept together. Now I gag from the smell.

They say smell is the strongest memory sense. Even more than sound. We  smell something, like a perfume or cologne, and it takes us right back  to a moment. I know the smell of baking muffins will always remind me of  my grandmother. I wonder if that smell will remind Amy of me after I'm  dead.

I can't entertain that thought. But the longer Tommy drives without  stopping, the more likely it seems. He's going to kill me. I don't know  how, or exactly when. But that's the plan. Either that or he wants to  keep me as a sex slave. I'd rather he killed me and got it over with,  frankly. I'm actually to the point where I'd rather die than be touched  by him in that way again.

At first, my legs were sore, being stuck in the same position for such a  long time. Now I don't feel them anymore. I'm numb, physically and  emotionally. What does that mean? The fact that I just don't care  anymore. Once the panic passes, and the tears, I give in to the finality  of it. Nobody knows where I was. I felt around for my purse at one  point but didn't feel anything in the trunk but those damned clothes. So  there wouldn't even be ID on my body when they found me. There was no  way to track me-my cell would at least have allowed for that. I'm sure  it's on my living room floor.

Who will find it first? Amy? She's bound to be upset tomorrow when I  don't come into the shop or answer her calls. I hope she doesn't blame  Jax. God, please don't let people blame him. This is no fault of his.  But damned if I didn't tell Amy I was going to see him. How could the  police not take a clue like that and run with it? I punch the metal  above my head, frustrated. He doesn't deserve this. Neither of us does.

I only hope he doesn't blame himself. There was nothing he could have done to protect me. Tommy was determined to get to me.

The car slows, then stops. My heart begins to race. Oh, no, this is it. I  thought I was okay with this, but now I'm not. I don't want to die. Oh,  God, please don't let me die.         

     



 

The slam of the door. Footsteps. Keys. A beeping noise-the lock releases. The trunk opening.

If my legs weren't so stiff, I'd kick out at him and run. I wish I'd  thought of that before. I'd have tried to move them. Now I'm useless.  Laying here, shielding my eyes from the bright neon light above Tommy's  head.

"Hi there," he says brightly. Is he actually happy right now? Oh, right. Of course he is. He has what he always wanted.

"Where are we? Why are you doing this?"

"So many questions." Like he's talking to a willful child. He takes me  by the shoulders, his hands rough. I forgot how big his hands were. The  way they hurt when they curled into fists. He pulls me to a sitting  position. I look around.