Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed

Brax leads me back through the forest and into his shed, where he finds a tool small enough to pop the tiny frame out of the locket without damaging it. I let out a nervous breath as I carefully remove the photograph. And I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but my heart sinks a little when I see the four digits engraved into the gold.

Digits that could mean anything.

“Great.” I drop the locket onto Brax’s workbench in frustration. “Just fuckin’ great.” When I kick the bench, pain shoots from my toe to my knee. It hurts a lot more than I expected it to, and I slide down one of the beams to the ground before bursting into tears. Not just because of the throbbing in my toe, but because I can feel myself running out of hope.

I’m hidden in the middle of nowhere with dangerous people after me, and the only person I can depend on is the outlaw biker who kidnapped me. If I ever get out of this mess alive, I’ll be a talk show host’s dream.

“Stop being a brat.” Brax snatches up the locket from the bench and studies the numbers himself.

“They have to mean something… could it be some kinda code?”

“How am I supposed to know? It’s four numbers that mean nothing,” I snap back at him.

Brax thinks for a while longer, then he moves to stand over me.

“First thing tomorrow morning, we’re taking a ride.” He reaches down, grabs at my arms and then pulls me up onto my feet.

“A ride where?” I look up at him confused. Now isn’t the time to be taking a trip.

“I’m taking you home.” His grip tightens and his jaw tenses.

I should be happy, relieved, but instead, his answer places a nerve-racking discomfort in my gut.

“Just so we can try and figure out what this means,” Brax adds, and I don’t know if that’s a warning or if he can sense the anxiety building inside me. “There could be something back at your place that relates to these numbers and if there is, we are gonna find it.”

“Okay,” I nod, managing a grateful smile. He’s right. I am being a brat.

“Get back in the house and get some sleep, we leave early in the morning. Less risk of being seen.”

“Are you coming to bed too?” I ask, trying my best to not sound bothered either way. But the truth is, I want him lying beside me. The only time I can relax is when he’s close.

Brax closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he’s angry at himself, and that’s how I know he’s going to give into me.

“Get to bed, Gracie, I’ll be up soon,” he promises.

It’s still dark when Brax stirs me awake. I’d pretended to be asleep last night when he eventually crept into the room. But it wasn’t long after he got under the covers, and my body tucked into his that I drifted off.

I don’t have time to eat or even shower, before he drags me outside toward the outhouse and pulls a white sheet off one of the bikes. It’s a classic model, but I can see it’s well taken care of. The chrome shines immaculately, the leather on the seat is glossy and black. Brax pushes it out the double doors before he mounts it, and I can’t help admiring how hot he looks as he straddles it, the black jeans and tight black tee he’s wearing adding to my fantasy.

“You gettin’ on or are you gonna stand there staring?” He looks over his shoulder at me, and I nervously take a step closer and clear my throat.

“I’ve never… I haven’t ridden a bike before,” I admit, feeling pretty fucking stupid.

“Of course you haven’t,” Brax sniggers back at me.

“Take a seat behind me, make sure ya climb on this side in case you catch the exhaust.” His arm reaches behind him so he can guide me around the bike. I do as he instructs, hitching my leg over the saddle and seating myself behind him.

“Let your legs rest against mine. There’s a bar behind that you can hold on to. Or…” he trails off.

“Or what?”

“Or you can hold on to me.” His tone suggests that the idea repulses him, despite the fact I spent the entire night with my body clung to his. I guess he’s had his fill of human contact for today.

“I’ll take the bar.” I reach behind me and locate the cool metal with my hands, gripping it tightly. “Okay, I’m ready,” I tell him, both excitement and nerves fluttering inside me.

Brax kick starts the engine and a thunderous vibration travels through my body. My hands automatically release the bar and wrap around his chest, my fingers digging into the cotton of his T-shirt.

“Better hold tight, Gracie.” He glances over his shoulder, before revving the throttle and pulling off.

Brax sticks to as many back roads as he can, taking a route toward my house that even I never knew existed. It isn’t until I recognize the town in the distance that I realize we’re close.

He rides down the road that leads to my house and parks his bike out of sight, taking my hand and pulling me closer to him.

“We can’t be seen,” he whispers. “And nothing changes, Gracie, I’m leaving here with you, don’t try anything stupid.” His threat sounds possessive and dangerous, and the intensity in his pupils injects a rush of adrenaline into my blood.

I nod back, before he tugs me toward my house.

He opens up the back gate and guides me through first. Then taking my hand again, he pulls me toward the back door and stands in front of it, looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I shrug.

“Let us in,” he whispers.

“Jeez, Brax, I must have forgotten to pick up my keys when you tied me up and threw me over your shoulder,” I bite back sarcastically.

He shakes his head, clearly unimpressed with my wit. Then pulls off his T-shirt, wraps it around his fist, and smashes his hand through one of the square panels. I watch on, shocked, as he curls his other arm inside, reaches for the lock and opens the door. Clearly, this isn't the first time he’s done this.

“You’re paying for that,” I shake my head at him.

“Just get inside,” he snaps back, his hips nudging me to move.

My house looks exactly how it did when I left it. I half expect to find Julian sitting in a dark corner, weeping over a missing poster. But there’s no sign of him. I haven’t had chance to watch any television or listen to the radio while I’ve been with Brax. Come to think about it, I hadn’t really thought about what would be going on in the life I was missing from. Are there people looking for me? What had Julian done when he came back and found me missing that night? Suddenly, I feel guilty, I haven’t spent nearly as much time as I should thinking about him.

“Gracie, come on.” Brax’s harsh voice reminds me why we’re here as he shakes the broken glass off his T-shirt and pulls it back on.

“Can you think what those numbers might relate to, do your parents have a safe or a filing cabinet?” Brax asks, storming through the house.

“Try my mom's office.” I march past him, toward the room where Mom spent most of her time. Her job allowed her to work from home sometimes, so I was used to having her around growing up. I haven’t been inside her office since the night her and Dad didn’t come home.

We search for a while but find nothing. It’s hard when you don’t really know what you're looking for.

“How about your father?” Brax asks, shutting the last drawer of Mom's desk. Nothing in here is coded or locked.

“My dad has an office in the city,” I tell him, knowing it will be far too risky to go there. I can feel us coming to a dead end despite Brax’s determination.

“Come on, let’s get out of here, it was stupid of me to bring you back here.” He lets out a deflated sigh, I can sense his disappointment. Brax is just as invested in finding out what all this is about as I am. I lead us as we make our way through the hall toward the back door.

“Wait.” Brax grabs me, hauling me back so fast that I collide with his firm chest.

“This picture…” he says, pointing his finger at my graduation photo that sits proudly on the wall. “Ain’t it the same as the one inside your locket.”

“Yeah, my mom loved that photo,” I smile fondly. I see the cogs turning in his head and I watch on suspiciously as he reaches up, takes the frame in both hands and lifts it away from the wall.

“Jackpot,” he smiles, as he moves it out of the way revealing a safe that’s built into the wall.

“I never knew that was there.” I run my fingers over the metal, then look up at Brax when I touch the keypad lock.

“But I’ll bet you know what that code is.” He raises an eyebrow at me. Why does he have to be so handsome?

I can’t let that distract me, not when we’re so close to getting answers.

I waste no more time, taking my finger and typing in the code that I’d been going over and over for the past few hours.

2411

A green light beeps, and I feel relief crash through my body when the door clicks open.

Inside, is a brown briefcase, and when I pull it out Brax slams his hand over mine preventing me from opening it.

“Patience, Gracie, we gotta get out of here. Every second we spend here is a risk.” I think back to the night those men came for me, and nod my head, clutching the briefcase tight to my chest as he leads me back through the house. I don’t contemplate screaming for help, or how easy it would be to tear myself out of his grip and run the second we make it out the door. Whatever the secret I’m carrying in my hands right now is, I feel like Brax is the only person who can protect me from it. I’m relying on him, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s becoming much more instinctive than it is necessary.

We make the ride home with the case acting as a wedge between us, though I still cling on to him tight. I may not be used to riding but I decide somewhere on the journey back to his cabin that it’s something I want to do again. Even if my legs are a little wobbly when I place them back on the ground.

“So how was it?” Brax asks, pushing his bike back into the shed. I look back at him blankly.

“Your first ride?”

“Oh that, I liked it,” I admit, unable to hide the smile from my face.

“Yeah, well that was a first for me too,” he tells me, standing the bike beside the others then squeezing through the gap between me and the door.

“What do you mean?” I chase after him, still clutching the case in my hands and trying to catch up with his fast strides. He ignores me at first, opening the screen door onto the porch and letting it slam behind him.

“Brax… What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps. “Let’s just open that damn case and hope it tells us what all this is about, so I can fix it and things can go back to how they were.” He seems agitated, and as much as his constant mood switches are starting to piss me off, I decide to let it lie.

I follow him inside and place the case on the table. Then as I open it up, we both peer inside with the same apprehension.

I’m surprised at what we find. A gun, a badge, and a brown official-looking file.

I pull them out and lay them on the table, and watch Brax’s face grow as suspicious as mine.

He picks up the badge and examines it.

“Special Agent Scott. Why didn’t you tell me your mom worked for the CIA?” Brax says, sounding pissed.

“She doesn’t,” I laugh back. “She’s a…” I pause because actually, I’m not really sure what she does. I know she does something protecting kids, but she never really talked about her work.

“This says differently,” he hands over the badge and I examine it properly. Sure enough, the photo ID is of my mom, but it can’t be genuine. How can it be?

“This can’t be true, Brax. If Mom worked for these people I would have known, and why would they want to hurt me?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” Brax picks up the brown file, his eyes scrunching together as he reads through the paperwork.

“Looks like she was on a special task force,” he tells me, without looking up. “Working to take down a large group of people.”

“People like you?” I ask, petrified that this is the explanation. The reason Prez ordered Brax to take me.

“No, darlin’, not people like us.” His face suddenly turns white, and he drops the file like it's just set alight in his hands.

I have to wonder what could possibly make a guy like Brax look so disturbed as he swallows thickly and looks up at me.

“It’s a pedophile ring, Gracie, your mom was working at taking down a pedophile ring.” He says the words like they taste bad in his mouth, and I quickly snatch up the paperwork and read it for myself.

“There’s a name of another agent, one my mom was working with,” I flick through more documents. “And a photograph.” I hold up a black and white photo, one that looks as though it has been taken from a distance, with the lens zoomed in.

“Fuck.” Brax drops his head, then quickly pulls his cell out from his pocket.

“Brax, what is it?” I’m starting to panic, the photo is of a man, one with white hair and a mean face, and on closer inspection, I see what’s got Brax so riled. The man is wearing a black leather cut, almost the same as the one Brax showed me a few nights ago.

“Is this your Prez?” I ask him, hearing the shake in my voice.

“No, darlin’, that ain't my Prez… this is my Prez.” He turns the sheet of paper he’s holding in his hand so I can see it. It looks like a police report, the older man in the corner photo holding up a number, and looking just as mean and dangerous as the man in the photo I’m holding.

“So who is this?” My hands shake.

“That there is Clunk, President of the Bastards MC.” Brax does a shit job of hiding the concern from his face. “And you’re in a whole lot more trouble than we thought.”