Ignite (The Disciples 4)

The warm air hits my face and I jump as the kitchen door slams with a loud thud. And I’m alone. Ryder has left me to go back in and Charlie screams and runs into David’s arms.

David holds her tight to his chest, murmuring words of love. God, what’s happening? Should I walk away? The way they are together, it’s as if it’s only them and I’m some annoying bee or fly on the wall invading their privacy.

I look around and there are a lot of bikes in the parking lot. Blade is busy talking with Edge. They look over at me, and I swallow, wanting to hide, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m surrounded by the black vests of Disciples and the smell of garbage coming from the dumpster next to me.

“You okay?” I blink up at Ox’s stony eyes. He seems uncomfortable, as if he wants to help yet doesn’t know how.

“Antoinette?” My eyes snap to Blade who is barking orders over his shoulder. He takes in my face and lifts my chin to examine my neck. “Does this hurt?”

I shake my head, not even understanding what he’s asking. Maybe I’m in shock because I’m rather calm despite what’s happened.

“Ox, get me your bottle of Jack. Let’s get some color in her face.”

“Axel,” I croak as if the ice has thawed in my body and I can move again. “I need to help.” I turn, but Blade stops me.

“You can’t go in, Antoinette.” His green eyes hold compassion but no mercy.

I try to pull away hissing, “He needs me.”

“Axel’s a big boy.” Ox hands me a small bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Because holy fuck, Blade is forcing a bottle of whiskey on me.

“Drink,” he demands. I jump then take a sip. Not like I have a choice since he’s holding it to my lips. My stomach roils and I almost throw up.

“Another,” he says, his voice firm.

“Wait.” I swallow, trying not to gag. “Blade, I’m not feeling well at all.” I hold up my hand when he lifts the bottle up again. The smell of the spicy alcohol makes my eyes and mouth water. He stops and assesses my face as if I’m a puzzle and he’s figured out the missing piece.

“Christ.” He rubs my back like I’m a child.

“Let’s get you in the shade.” I kind of cling to him as he moves us under a tree. I don’t feel well. It’s so bad I can’t even complain that he’s moving me farther away from helping Axel.

Edge walks over frowning, handing Blade a cigarette. “Is she okay? Do we need Hilary?”

“Will this bother you?” He holds up the cigarette. Edge looks at Blade.

“I’m sorry.” I reach for Blade’s arm because he’s the closest and the sick sensation in my stomach is horrible.

“Just breathe. Try to relax. This has been a lot of excitement.” His voice is calm as if he’s said these words many times. I nod, horrified because I’m losing the battle and gagging.

“Oh shit,” Edge says.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Leaning over, I puke.AXEL“Get rid of him.” I toss the keys to Ox. “His house and whatever else.”

He nods as he hands me a cigarette. I light up and look around at the deserted alley and parking lot. It’s late, already dark.

“Christ, that took longer than expected.”

“Fucking piece of shit. I only wish I could have done it.” Ox exhales, the smoke coming out of his nose. He’s not joking. Ox is a master at getting the truth out of the most reluctant victim. Nothing bothers him. He can slice a man’s throat and sleep like a baby.

Edge walks over. Trying to calm my mind, I gaze up at the stars. The adrenaline of shoving Benny in the fryer still pumps through my blood. He was nothing but an insane, lying junkie. He never saw Antoinette dance. He stalked her because he knew that she was mine.

Mine.

I look at him and then over his shoulder to see Rip and Fosters across the street on watch.

“Antoinette?”

“Blade took her home. She wasn’t feeling good.” His voice is matter-of-fact, causing me to raise an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?”

Fear. It’s like an unwanted friend that you can’t shake as much as you try. I just killed the man who has plagued the club for years. So, why do I feel as though I need to prepare for more?

“Nothing.” Edge’s cigarette glows in the darkened lot. “She’s tired, that’s all. It’s not easy being your old lady.” His meaning is clear.

I stare at him. “Well, then I guess it’s good she’s not. I hate to make her something she can’t handle.” I toss my cigarette and head toward my bike.

“Should have thought of that earlier, brother,” he yells at my back. I stop and turn. He knows something or wants to gloat. Usually I’d punch his sanctimonious face, but I’m fucking drained. All I want is a shower and Antoinette.