Ruby: Black Hawk Gems Book 3 (Black Hawk Gems MC) Read online

  When I say nothing, the guy growls again and throws me against the wall, causing me to cry out when I collide with the hard surface.

  “Apologize!” He demands, circling a hand around the base of my neck and pushing. I try to get away, but the pressure pins me to the wall. How can someone so young be so cruel?

  My vision blurs as tears dribble down my cheeks. “I’m s-sorry,” I whisper.

  “What? I can’t hear you,” he demands, raising his hand in the air. I clamp my eyes shut and brace for the suffering I know is coming.

  “Let her go, Stuart!” A loud voice booms, causing me to open my eyes. Sniper prowls toward us, anger clouding and darkening his eyes. Within a split second, Stuart flies off me, and Sniper takes a protective stance in front of me.

  “The little rat ran into me,” Stuart defends himself. I sniffle and wipe my tears away with the sleeve of my sweater. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until this moment. Sniper glances back at me, and his face hardens, causing me to look away. For obvious reasons, I don’t like when people get angry. I definitely don’t like the anger simmering in Sniper’s eyes.

  Sniper does nothing to me, though; he merely steps forward and grabs Stuart by the collar like it’s the easiest thing in the world to move a boulder like this Stuart guy. With wide, teary eyes, I watch as Sniper raises his fist, but I quickly squeeze them closed and cover my ears. I don’t need to see more violence. I’ve witnessed and experienced enough for a lifetime.

  Not long after, large, gentle hands pull mine away from my ears.

  Sniper.

  “Ruby, look at me.” It takes a second, but I slowly open my eyes and look up at Sniper. His have darkened with concern, trim lines of worry bracketing his mouth and eyes. “You okay?” He whispers, and I try to get a hold of my breathing. He’s so close- too close.

  My lungs constrict like that guy’s hand is still around my throat.

  My savior notices. “Hey, just breathe, okay. In and out.” Again, I try to steady my shaky breaths. It doesn’t work, and I gasp, fear clawing its way up my throat.

  “Do what I do,” he instructs, breathing in. I do as he says and match my breathing to his. I inhale when he does and exhale when he does. Inhale. Exhale. We do this a few times before my breathing finally returns to normal.

  Sniper smiles, but the emotion doesn’t reach his eyes. “See, you’re okay.” Nodding, I bite my lip. I should thank him. I want to thank him, but if my dad found out… I peer up at Sniper and offer him a small smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replies before lifting something. My eyes widen when they land on my bag. I must have forgotten it when I ran out of the room. In all, I guess it’s good that he followed me out. With another small smile of thanks, I take it from him.

  Once again, he looks me over, and his face turns serious. “Did he hurt you? Do you need the nurse?”

  Shaking my head quickly, I pull my bag onto my arm. No nurse. If I go to the nurse, I’ll break another of Dad’s rules. Sniper says nothing for a minute but nods. “Do you want to go to class?” I shake my head again. I really just want to sleep. Because of the constant aching, pounding, and burning sensations in my body, I didn’t sleep well. It wasn’t much different from usual. I rarely sleep well since I never feel safe. I rub my eyes and look down.

  “Well, what do you want to do?” Sniper asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. I look up at him again and raise an eyebrow. Why is he so adamant? He chuckles, “I’m not going back to class either.” Oh. I shuffle nervously on my feet. He isn’t going away, Ana. I peek through my eyelashes to find Sniper leaning against the wall, watching me still.

  Nope, it doesn’t seem like it.

  “I’ll have to kidnap you.” My head snaps up so fast it spins. Did he just… I take a step away, my back bumping into the wall, which makes him raise his hands. “I’m kidding, but if we don’t want to get in trouble, we should leave.” Letting out a breath of relief, I watch as he turns and walks toward the front doors. He motions for me to follow.

  Should I? Would my father find out if I went? He probably would. Somehow, he always does. If superpowers were real, that’d be his; to always know where I am or what I’m doing, especially if it’s something that disobeys one of his rules.

  “Ruby, you coming?” Sniper asks, again using that name. I shake my head no. His eyebrows tilt in, forming a V, and he sighs. “Come on. We won’t get in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tells me. I shake my head again. I’ll get in trouble, just not the way he’s thinking.

  “I- I can’t.”

  Sniper strides back to me and asks, “Why?”

  “If my d-dad found out, he-he wouldn’t be happy,” I stutter, cursing myself. I hate that I sound so afraid, but I don’t want to think about what my dad will do if he finds out I left school. Internal debate makes me think about last night. I probably woke up ten times during the night because of the discomfort.

  Sniper nods and crosses his arms over his chest, “So…. we can-” he stops talking when I yawn. I try to cover it, but I still make a weird mewling sound, kind of like a cat. Sniper just smirks. “Could take you home to get some sleep,” he suggests. I think about it for a second. I could sleep and pretend that I went to school all day.

  But if my father asks, I’ll say I got sick. I’ll say I came home so the nurse wouldn’t start asking questions. That’ll help him understand… maybe. Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.

  “Okay,” I murmur. Sniper smiles, nods, and lays his hand on my back. Before taking a step, I move away, which makes him raise his hands, palms out toward me, and take a step away. I bite my lip and look down. “I- I don’t like to be touched.” He says nothing else, just opens the door and lets me exit first.

  Once we’re in the parking lot, he leads us over to a very nice, sleek Harley Davidson motorcycle. I know nothing about motorcycles, but this one is black and has two seats. I wasn’t expecting a bike. If he’d said something about it, I would’ve thought of the ones that teens usually ride that are skinnier and make that annoying, high-pitched whining sound when they pass you. Not this beast.

  “You’re okay to ride, right?” He questions. I take a deep breath and nod. It’s this or walk home. I’ve never been on a motorcycle, but I’ve seen people riding, and it always looked fun.

  “Come on, I’ll help you on,” Sniper says and steps towards me. I move away from instinct. Sniper sighs and climbs on the bike, straddling it with ease. “Now, you climb on. With your right leg, step up on the peg. Hold on to my shoulders while you throw your left leg over the seat. Do it all in one movement, so you don’t fall,” he tells me.

  Carefully, I do as he says. I step on the footpeg, my hands white-knuckling his shoulders, and swing my leg over the seat. When I sit, I hesitantly wrap my arms around Sniper’s waist.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Northside Heights.”

  He nods, and his bike roars to life. The loud noise and sudden vibrations from below startle me, causing me to jump and tighten my arms around Sniper. If teachers were looking for us, they’d know our exact location by the loud, thunderous sound. At least they’d know where Sniper was.

  After a second, the bike shoots off, and I bury my face in Sniper’s back. My nerves get the better of me, and I wonder if I should’ve just walked like I’m supposed to.

  The drive to my house isn’t very long, and of course, it is significantly shorter than my walk. It only takes about ten minutes with little more than stating my address to Sniper. I realize Sniper must’ve grown up here or at least lived here for a while.

  When we pull up to my house, I gasp. My father’s car sits in the driveway.

  “Oh. Looks like someone’s here,” Sniper says as he helps me climb off the bike. I glance over my shoulder at the front door and windows. Crap, crap, crap, crap. If he’s here, then he heard the motorcycle, which means he’s probably watching me right now. Watching and planning. Waiting
to pounce.

  When I don’t see my dad in the windows, I turn to Sniper. “Th-thanks for dropping me off, but I have to go,” I tell him. He nods, and I run to the front door. This won’t be good. I should’ve just stayed at school or gone to a park or something. I walk into the house without looking back, hoping my father is too occupied to pay attention.

  “Anastasia.”

  My body freezes at the sound of my father’s voice. Slowly, I turn to find him standing in the living room with an angry look on his face. “He- I- I wasn’t f-feeling well, so he b-brought me home.” I stumble over my excuse. Before I can do anything else, he seizes me by the neck. The incident from earlier flashes through my mind as familiar pain sprouts in my neck.

  “P-please,” I gasp, shaking my head. I try to get free by clawing at his hand, but he just tightens his fingers, the grip much tighter and more severe than Stuart’s. Suddenly, I wish I’d told Sniper to just take me away from here. To keep driving.

  “You broke the rules, Anastasia,” he growls, pushing me against the wall. “You’ll face the consequences now.” I whimper as he chucks me to the floor. Immediately, I curl into a ball, preparing for the impact I know is coming.

  “I told you not to talk to anyone, and I told you no friends,” he growls, a kick landing in my already bruised stomach, making me scream. The pain from yesterday flares back up and makes everything worse. I try to wrap my arms around my head as punches rain down, his fists coming down on my arms and ribs like hammers.

  “Please, I- I won’t d-do it ag-again,” I bawl, tears spilling down my cheeks. Agony washes over my body. A tidal wave of hurt and anguish. Dad’s hand laces through my hair and pulls, causing a burning pain to sprout on my scalp. I try to claw at his hand, but, like always, he ignores my cries and attempts to get away from him while he drags me into the kitchen.

  I gouge my nails into his skin and scrape them down his wrists. He doesn’t even flinch. How could he not care? How could he do this?

  These aren’t new thoughts. I ask myself these questions all the time, even when I know the answers.

  “P-please, let me go!” I kick and swing my arms. He throws me against the cabinets, and I whimper in pain from the contact with the hardwood. My father stalks towards me and lands a kick to my chest before I can block him. The impact forces the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping.

  My father rummages around in some drawers while I lay on the floor, bloodied and barely breathing. I need to at least attempt a getaway, so I grab the counter to pull myself up. If I can get to the front door, I can get out. Perhaps I can find somewhere safe to stay until he calms down, like… like… I don’t know. It’d have to be someplace people wouldn’t see me either.

  I knew I shouldn’t have left school, and I still did it. Stupid.

  “Now, we’re going to have a talk about disobeying the rules,” my father declares, producing a knife. My heart stops, my eyes widen, and I slip, crumbling to the floor again with a shout of alarm. He wouldn’t.

  As he steps closer, I scramble back, but my dad grabs my ankle and drags me to him, the knife at the ready to carve me up like I’m the turkey at Sunday lunch.

  He would.

  I try to kick him away, but my energy is low, and he blocks me. He glares down with a sadistic smirk. That smirk is never a good sign. It’s his you-definitely-won’t-like-this-but-I-will smirk. It usually takes over when he has something truly evil in mind. I hate that look.

  I think he’s got something wrong with him that isn’t just anger problems. I think it runs deeper than that. Sometimes I wonder if he was always this cruel, but didn’t show it until he got the news about my mom and me.

  On my hands and knees, I try to move away again, but he manages to grab my shirt, yank, and turn me on my back. He kneels on my legs to where I can’t move them. I wiggle and thrash. I try anything to get up. One of his hands wraps around both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I struggle in his grip and whimper when he raises the knife.

  “You do as I say, or I’m sending you off to your Aunt’s,” he growls, bringing the knife down. Searing pain burns my side as my father drags the blade across my skin. I try to hold the screams in, but it hurts. It hurts so badly like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  Tears pour from my eyes as my body shakes and heats from the torture of the metal digging in, slicing through my delicate skin.

  “D-dad, ple-ease! Sto-p!” I finally scream when everything becomes too much. Something in my heart cracks when I hear my own broken screams.

  It shouldn’t be like this.

  I cry out and whimper as he slashes again and again and again, warm, sticky blood pooling around me. The last of my energy flickers out, and I wish he’d send me away. Anywhere he sends me would be better than this.

  Anything.

  Blood flows down my sides, and finally, my eyelids grow heavy. My body throbs, black spots clouding my vision as the fight leaves my body alongside my blood.

  “P-please,” I whimper, letting the darkness take me away from the pain.

  Chapter 3

  Sniper

  “Dude, what’s up with you?” Ink asks, smacking my arm. His already tatted-up arm continues to elbow me while he laughs. I shake my head, ignore him, and keep watching the front doors of the school. “You looking for your new girlfriend?” Ink teases. I reach out and grab him, making his eyes widen. “Hey!”

  “Shut up,” I advise, pushing him away. He stumbles back into the lockers, and our friends laugh.

  “I think Sniper’s got a crush,” Hawk chuckles, making everyone laugh again. I roll my eyes and pull my eyes away from the doors.

  “She hasn’t been here since her first day. Why’d she come for one day and not the next?” I ask, looking at the guys.

  “Maybe you scared her away,” Ink laughs, and I punch his arm. I’m serious about this, and he’s joking, but sometimes those jokes get old. Trust me.

  Wolf shrugs, running a hand through his hair. Hawk’s face scrunches up like he’s thinking of reasons she wouldn’t be here. Ink shrugs and rubs his bicep where I hit him. Drax just crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. Reaper just stares with a blank expression.

  “A lot of help you guys are,” I mutter.

  “How are we supposed to know, man?” Drax asks, then his eyebrows rise. “She’s new, and we know nothing about her. Maybe she needed more time.” He shrugs, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

  Then, he stops and thinks about it for a second. “You think something happened?” I shake my head, then shrug. Like he said, we know nothing about her.

  “I don’t know,” I say just as the bell rings. I sigh. It makes little sense that she’d skip two days at a new school unless Stuart scared her enough to tell her parents. I guess they could’ve kept her home to make sure she didn’t get hurt. I wouldn’t blame her, or them, with the way Stuart pinned her down. She’d looked so scared, and I’d been furious.

  When she comes back, I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch her again.

  On the other hand, I hope I didn’t scare her away, like Ink joked.

  I glance at the guys- the only people at school I hang with because we’re in the same motorcycle club. My parents joined when King formed the club years ago. Hawk, Wolf, and I all grew up in the club. Then Reaper, Drax, and Ink joined after that. Since we’re all about the same age, we became friends.

  I turned eighteen during the summer. Working in a mechanic shop during the past few summers helped me bulk up, but so does fighting and sparring with my friends. We’re all fairly tall, around five-ten and five-eleven with more room to grow. Queen always replies that we’re, “her big, growing boys.”

  Hawk, whose birth name is Dominic, has brown hair and brown eyes. His build is slightly broader than mine, and he’s eighteen, like me. His dad, King, is the President of Black Hawk Motorcycle Club, and Hawk’s mom, Queen, is King’s Old Lady- which means she’s his one... his soulmate or whatever you want to call it. Ki
ng always told us everyone has their ‘one’ out there.

  Next is Wolf, or Axel. Wolf has red-brown hair and blue eyes, a mirror image of his parents, who have the same Scottish coloring. Wolf’s dad, Iron, is the club’s Vice President, and Ginger, Wolf’s mom, is Iron’s Old Lady. They came over from Scotland when they were in high school and returned to Redwater after graduating. They still have thick accents, but while Wolf’s is noticeable, it isn’t as prominent since he grew up in America.

  We grew up together, and even though Wolf is a year younger than Hawk and me, he’s close to us- a little under six feet and probably almost two hundred pounds. It’s mostly muscle because we worked out and bulked up during the last couple of years, as I’ve said before.

  Reaper’s dad was a member who left after Reaper’s birth, which was when Reaper’s mother moved them both back to Italy. Years later, when we were teenagers, King invited them back to the club after tracking them down. He said they were still family, even if Wrecker left them.

  Reaper came, but his mom split her time between Redwater and Italy, where they’re from. Reaper is the biggest of us, standing at six foot one or two, I think. He spends a lot of time in the gym with weights, so his arms are basketballs. Also, he’s the quiet character in the group because of his surly attitude and constantly neutral expressions. Then there’s the black hair, olive tanned skin, and dark clothing that also adds to the image.

  Then there’s Ink, who joined a few years ago when King went looking for someone to work at the tattoo parlor. Ink’s parents sent him away to boarding school and didn’t bother to raise him, so he went kind of wild and got kicked out, which is when King found him on the streets tagging walls with art. King offered him a job and a home with the club. Ink was only fourteen, but the short probation period soon turned into a full-time job that he still works after school.

  Now, Ink helps a senior member manage the tattoo parlor. He tends to be the comic relief of the group, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. He’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, a frame like mine- not too lean, but not bulky like Reaper, and he has tattoos all up one arm, and I’m sure he’ll ink the other arm too.