Rise from Ash Page 3

  “I swear, no one will find out.” Who would I tell?

  After assuring the doctor once more that I’d return and that I’d seek out a proper woman’s support group to help me find my feet away from my “husband,” I took the medicine he’d given me and headed back to the motel.

  As I walked past the office toward my room, I spotted a familiar sight in the corner of my eye and froze in my tracks.

  I watched through the window, and my heart raced faster as I confirmed my worst fear.

  Clay had found me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EVEN VIEWED FROM behind, through a window with only the vaguest outline of his face on display, I easily recognized him. The tiniest glimpse of his dark mahogany hair and the corner of his jaw, with week-old scruff littering his smooth skin, were all I needed to see to know that he’d found me again.

  He can’t be here!

  Despite my thoughts, he stood in front of the wooden check-in desk with a sheet of paper in his hands that I was almost certain contained a photo of me. Dread filtered through me, sinking into the pit of my stomach and anchoring me to the floor like concrete. Unable to move, I watched him interact with the young woman behind the counter. My body twitched as I longed to run to him just as desperately as I needed to run away.

  How did he find me?

  Tears flooded my eyes, stealing the precious glimpses that made my heart pound as much with want and desire as with fear. I swiped at my eyes to clear my vision. I pressed my hand against the window, wishing I could reach in and yank him out, to kiss him and force us to go back to the time before I’d killed his sister. The time when he’d loved me as much as I still loved him. Unable to move away, I swayed on the spot as I watched him. When he pounded his fist on the desk, I leaped to attention—just like the woman behind the counter. He held the sheet up higher for her again, practically shoving it into her face. I longed to see more than just the back of his head and the occasional glimpse of part of his profile.

  “I don’t think she’s here. I know she’s here!” he roared, before visibly trying to calm himself. “And as I’ve explained, she is wanted for questioning in regards to two deaths in Detroit. If you don’t assist in my inquiries, I will have you arrested for aiding and abetting a known fugitive. Do you understand?”

  Two deaths? Louise and . . .? Was there another?

  My stomach lurched, but I wasn’t sure if it was at his words or a reaction to the double-dose of antibiotics I’d taken.

  The lady who Clay was practically accosting to get to me nodded, her face was ashen, and her attention turned entirely onto him. It was probably a good thing. Otherwise, she might have seen me watching him from behind, resting against the window and trying desperately to avoid drawing any attention to myself, but needing to drink in the sight of him for as long as possible. It was true that only a dozen or so days had passed since I’d last seen him, but my entire world had shifted on its axis in that time.

  “Now, let’s try this again.” His tone was low and dangerous. I wasn’t sure how the woman on the receiving end of it hadn’t fallen to pieces. I probably would have. A range of different emotions reverberated in his voice, but the strongest of them all was the low, menacing timbre of his rage.

  I will be on the receiving end of more than a hard, hate-filled tone if I don’t leave right now.

  Lifting my hand from the glass, I squeezed my fingers against my palms to ensure I didn’t do something stupid—like start a fire. Taking three deep breaths, I tried to listen to their now-muted conversation.

  “Could you please just tell me what room she’s in?” His voice had shifted; all sugar and sweetness but, underneath the velvety smoothness, an undercurrent of anger still simmered. Anger that I was positive he aimed squarely at me for what I’d done. “I’ll make sure to handle her with as little fuss for you as possible. Quick and easy.”

  Handle her? I gave a small squeak of fear. I have to get out of here! Now!

  The tiny sound must have caught his attention because he twisted in place to look toward the window. My heart leaped as I fell to the ground, hoping desperately that I’d had just enough warning to drop before he’d turned fully and he hadn’t caught the end of my disappearing act.

  Resting my back against the wall of the office, I thought about his words again. Two deaths.

  Maybe he was making it sound worse than it was so that the woman was more inclined to assist him. It was unlikely though. Most people wouldn’t consider there any difference between someone who had killed one or two people. A killer was a killer.

  It was self-defense. It was the sunbird’s voice that whispered to me, reminding me that I’d had no choice but to relinquish control to her. Louise had bound my hands, surrounded me with gasoline and had a knife pressed against my throat. There was little more I could have done to save myself without giving over to the flame. I’d done everything I could to warn Louise, but she’d refused to listen.

  Regardless, if Clay was willing to reveal any information about my mistakes to the clerk, then it was clear that he blamed me for Louise’s death and would do anything to track me down.

  As if the words he whispered to me at the hospital aren’t enough evidence that he wants to kill me.

  I have to go! Staying close to the building and low to the ground to ensure neither Clay nor the receptionist spotted me, I crept away. There was no way I could risk returning to my room, not even to grab my bag. The danger was too close—far too immediate. Even if I beat him there, I would have no way of watching his progress to know how much time I had before the door sprung open to reveal the hunter that had always lurked just beneath the surface with him. I shuddered again as I recalled the sound of his enraged shouting when I’d spotted him back at the motel office. If I stayed where I was, he was going to handle me. Quick and easy. An icy chill raced down my spine even as heat burned in my fingertips.

  I waited until I was around the corner of the reception building before I risked standing again. The road—and the freedom it potentially offered—was just in front of me. I took a moment to stop, catch my breath, slow my racing heart, and plan my next move. If I moved too fast, I was likely to make a fatal mistake.

  I really need to get out of here!

  There were very few choices available to me that could take me away from the imminent danger Clay posed. I couldn’t run; I was still barely able to stand. The only thing that held me upright and kept me moving at all was the adrenaline pumping rapidly throughout my body. The infection still clouded my mind and stole most of my strength.

  Fear froze me in place when I remembered that the room I’d booked overlooked the road. It meant I had minutes at most from the time he entered my room to be somewhere out of view of the wide glass sliding door that opened onto the balcony. Otherwise, he’d be able to spot me with even the most cursory glance.

  Does he still have his gun?

  With his skill and years of experience, my ambling figure would be an easy mark. I began to hyperventilate. It was incredibly likely the next few minutes might be my last on Earth.

  I have to find another way out.

  Parked on the road in front of the motel were three cars. An idea sprung to mind. If there had been any other option, there was no way I would have attempted it. With circumstances the way they were, I had only two choices: try their doors and hope that at least one person had been stupid enough to leave a spare key somewhere in the car, or take my chances on foot. Once more, I dismissed the idea of trying to outrun Clay and his bullets—certain he’d been well-enough trained to have deadly accuracy.

  Stealing a car it is.

  Despite the promise I’d made to myself just a few weeks earlier, the one I’d made in the memory of my father to better learn the basics for my continued survival, I hadn’t had the chance gain any new skills yet.

  There’s no time like the present, the sunbird whispered. You’ll either succeed or die trying.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I
hissed back.

  I rushed forward to the first of the cars and tugged on the handle. The door refused to open, confirming the owner was safety conscious enough to lock the damned thing. I had no idea how to break into a car, other than smashing a window, which almost certainly would have drawn Clay’s attention. If my heart wasn’t racing so fast at the knowledge that Clay, still burning with his anger at his sister’s death, was just a few yards behind me, I might have tried to work out how to jimmy the lock, but I didn’t have time.

  The sound of the office door opening, just feet away around the corner, floated to me on the breeze, immediately followed by a female voice. “I apologize, Officer, I didn’t actually book her in. That’s why I didn’t recognize her, but I’m certain this is the right room.”

  Officer? The word confused me. Is Clay posing as a police officer to try to find me?

  “The owner of that card is booked into Room 3B.” Her voice lowered into a scandalous tone. “Is she really wanted for murder?”

  Murder . . .

  I gulped down on the breath in my lungs at the last word. It was a reminder of why I needed to keep moving.

  Walking as swiftly as possible, I headed for the second car, which was some type of black Lincoln. Mercifully, it was unlocked. I said a silent prayer in the hope that the owner was as generous with the keys to the ignition as well. I checked all the places Dad had taught me to, the glove box, the center console, driver’s door pocket, and under the floor mat, all with no luck. Even though my heart had plummeted to my feet and dragged the last of the hope I had with it, I reached up for the sun visor in one last ditched effort to escape.

  When I pulled on the visor, a key fell onto the floor, but I wasn’t flooded with the relief I’d expected because a nasty surprise came with it. A mark emblazoned the back of the visor, drawing my gaze and twisting my stomach into a nausea-inducing knot. I’d seen the mark—a red semi-circle like a crescent moon with a crude “M” drawn through the center of it—before, scrawled onto the living room wall when I awoke in Louise’s clutches. I yanked my arm away, and my gaze darted around the car as I looked for traps. Just when I was about to rush out of the door and try my luck on foot, after all, something else caught my attention.

  Etched into the metal key tag that had fallen onto the driver’s seat was a dove similar to the one embossed on the chain around my neck. Combined, the two symbols made me confident that the car belonged to the Rain—one operative in particular.

  Clay.

  My hands shook as I reached for the key. I was sure that all of the Rain’s cars would be LoJacked, but even with the danger that Clay, or one of his associates, might track me with whatever device was in the vehicle, stealing the car was probably worth the risk. Especially if it left him without a vehicle. It was entirely possible it could give me the opportunity to get just far enough ahead of Clay to disappear into the wilderness again and take the time I needed to recover from the infection in my wrist. I didn’t need to drive it for long after all—just long enough to escape Clay’s clutches. If he didn’t have any other way of following me, it wouldn’t take more than a day of solid driving to outrun him. It didn’t appear he’d brought any backup with him, which made it more likely that he had no other means of transport immediately available. He’d probably assumed I’d be easy to corner, and that it would take almost no effort on his part to kill me. He was the one who knew my greatest secrets and inner desires after all.

  Quick and easy.

  The thought cemented the plan in my mind, and I slid completely into the driver’s seat. In an attempt to dispel the nervous quivers that rushed over my fingers, I shook my hands before drawing a deep breath to quell the fires within me. When I had as much control as I could get in my light-headed state, I forced the key into the ignition and started the car.

  The V8 engine roared when my foot accidentally grazed the accelerator. Instead of comforting me that the car was in good working order, the growl only magnified the ringing in my ears and the twisting of my stomach. It was the sound that confirmed that I was about to steal my first car. Regardless of the circumstances, the theft was a step up from anything I’d done before.

  There’s no going back now. First credit card fraud to murder, why not add grand theft auto?

  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder up to my former motel room and almost cried out with fear at the sight that greeted me. With his gun drawn and pointed squarely at the car—at me—Clay stood on the balcony that extended out of the room I’d been in. Because the room was so close to the road, I could make out his details with almost crystal clarity. When his gaze locked onto mine, his face went slack, and his eyes widened with shock. His hand appeared to shake as it dropped, lowering the gun away from me.

  For a moment, I was sorely tempted to throw open the door and run to him. If it wasn’t for his words running through my head, I might have.

  His brows dipped into a frown and his expression set into a hard, emotionless mask. The sight was enough to force me into action. I threw the car into drive and peeled away from the curb.

  Once I had, he raised the gun again and aimed it at the car before shouting something that looked like a curse. The last sight I had was of him kicking the balcony as he screamed something else after me. My bottom lip quivered as the fresh wounds in my heart festered like the one on my wrist.

  The face of the man I loved swam through my mind, juxtaposed with the hatred printed on Clay’s face as I drove away. The twisting in my stomach grew to become a swarm of angry bees, buzzing around my insides before flying throughout my limbs to sting me from within. That one look had confirmed everything I’d suspected, and it was impossible to ignore the truth anymore. By killing his sister, I’d become the very thing Clay had accused me of being on our first disastrous date. A monster. Whether by intention or not, I had hurt people. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  By nightfall, I’d traveled almost four hundred miles and crossed two state lines. I tried to stay off highways and away from major roads, hoping to avoid police and any Rain attempting to follow the car. I hoped I’d been somewhat successful, but couldn’t help the paranoia that sank into me. I was almost certain that the next time I looked in the rearview mirror, I’d see Clay there behind the wheel of a car—his gaze full of murderous intent. In my mind, I relived the moment Ethan barreled down on me in his Hummer. The day I’d lost Dad. Tears rushed into my eyes, and it became almost impossible to focus on the road ahead.

  I took a deep breath, stared at the rearview mirror for as long as I dared, and reminded myself that Clay wouldn’t have been able to follow me so quickly. I had a decent head start and who knew how long it might take him to rally and try to find me. Despite the knowledge that the Rain might be tracking my every move, I was at least moving forward and increasing the time it would take for Clay to find me. Eventually though, I would have to stop, and at that point, I would have to get rid of the car as quickly as I could.

  When I’d stolen the car, I’d had a stroke of luck, and the fuel tank had been almost full. Even with the distance I’d traveled, there was still a little under an eighth left in the tank, but I didn’t want to risk being near a major city when it ran out. Instead, I wanted to disappear into the wild, leaving as little a trail as possible. Reluctantly, I decided it would be wise to find somewhere to dump the car—somewhere off the highway and away from people—before the gas tank ran to empty.

  When I spotted a wide shoulder coming up on the mountain track I was driving, I decided there was no time like the present. A sign on the side of the road had announced I was closing in on a town called Talihina, and I didn’t know how big or small that might be. Checking that there was no other traffic around, I pulled over to the side of the road. The instant I stopped, my heart beat faster as the fear of discovery ramped up again. I needed to get rid of the evidence—I needed to destroy the car—but had no clue how. I didn’t even know where to start. It was a fresh reminder t
hat I really wasn’t cut out for a life lived alone and on the run. Not that I had much choice in the matter.

  You can do it, the stubborn voice of the sunbird called to me. You have fire.

  My palms burned hotter as the last word echoed around my body, and I understood the meaning behind her statement. I pressed my hands against the leather seats and waited to see what would happen. A terrible smell filled up the car, but the leather did little more than dry and scorch under the heat I infused into it. Panic gripped my throat tightly; it was my one plan, and it had failed.

  Instead of getting rid of the evidence that I’d been the one who’d stolen the car, I’d made it even more apparent with the perfectly charred outline of my hand. Blind panic rose within me, bringing a fresh wave of nausea along with it. Between the infection burning through me and the heartbreak fresh in my mind, I was in no fit state to be trying to fix things, but I had no other choice.

  I have to do something!

  It didn’t make sense that I couldn’t ignite the vehicle because I’d done it before, albeit accidentally. When the police had captured me, shortly after Dad’s death, I’d caused enough damage to their car to provide the opportunity to escape. In the back of the police car, I’d melted the plastic seats with my anxiety. The super-heated sludge had contained just enough residual heat and embers to set the carpet alight.

  The carpet!

  Crouching on the road so that I could get as low as possible, I put the panic building within me to use. Generating more heat in the tips of my fingers, I tried again. I closed my eyes and pushed my fingers against the carpet on the floor of the driver’s side. When the smell of burning fibers rose from the floor and curled around my face, my eyes sprung open with relief. Glancing down at my hands, I watched as the tiny little wisps of smoke grew to tendrils of fire, licking along the carpet.

  A smile crossed my lips, and I exhaled a shaky sigh. I pulled my hand away, resting it on my knee, and watched as the fire spread. The flames were low, and barely looked strong enough to sustain themselves for long, but they were there.