Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed
Getting fresh air is just what I needed today, especially after the bomb that's just exploded around me. I had no idea that Brax was a Dirty Soul, a member of the motorcycle club that runs the town of Manitou Springs. I don’t know that much about them, no one really does, other than the fact that they're dangerous and no one fucks with them.
Brax is confusing. I’ve seen how cruel he can be, I’ve felt it. And yes, he’s managed to scare me more times than I’m prepared to admit in the short time we’ve spent together.
But at the same time, I can’t help but sense that there’s a kindness inside him. He treats that scruffy stray dog like a child. The toiletries that were in the bathroom this morning must have been selected with me in mind. Strawberry shampoo, a pink toothbrush, there was even a hairbrush on the counter. And today he’s spent over an hour patching up the hole in the roof above the room I sleep in.
I can’t figure him out. And I can’t let myself think about that kiss, or how I didn’t want it to end. Maybe it was supposed to be a warning, a reminder that he could take me if he wanted to. But to me it felt much more like a moment of weakness.
He makes pasta for dinner, and I tuck in gratefully, despite it tasting like cardboard. It isn’t even dark out yet and I’m yawning. I didn’t sleep at all last night and tiredness is really catching up with me.
“Time for bed,” Brax says, taking my arm and leading me back up the stairs toward my room. I sit back on that god-awful mattress and let him cuff me to the bed, and I’m a little surprised when he sits down on the edge of the mattress beside me. His eyes staring at the floor between his legs and his jawline tense. He seems deep in thought, and I’m desperate to know what’s going on inside his head.
“You wanna tell me how you ended up being a part of that club?” I ask, curious about his story.
“Get some sleep.” He blanks my question and stands back up, before walking out the room, and closing the door behind him. The springs don’t seem to bother me as I lay myself down, and sleep finds my tired eyes far too easy for someone in my situation.
His lips taste like whiskey, and just like him, they’re a contradiction. Soft, but firm as they take mine.
A loud bang jolts me out of my dream, the thud so loud I feel it wrack through my body.
I hear the splintering of wood, followed by my own scream when the door bursts open, and a large, dark figure charges toward me. It’s a man, I can tell that much from the shape and size of the body, but I can’t see his face through the mask he’s wearing. And I know from the way he comes at me that he isn’t here to rescue me.
The large body lands on top of mine, and I wiggle my wrist frantically to try and escape from the cuffs so I can try to run. The pressure of his heavy body on top of me is too hard to fight off. And when I feel a cold metal press under my chin, I instantly freeze with terror.
“Brax!” I scream out the name of the only person I believe can help me, before the stranger yanks at my body roughly, and I struggle to get out from under him. The weight of his fist as it hits the side of my face is so harsh that it knocks the focus out of me for a while.
When I come to, I see Brax over the shoulder of my attacker. His eyes are murderous as he reaches forward and pulls the body off me like it’s weightless. He wraps his arm around the intruder's neck, cupping at his chin, and twisting the guy's head until I hear his neck snap. The scream I make deafens my ears, as Brax drops the lifeless body and rushes toward me.
“You okay, did he hurt you?” His hands grab at each side of my face, while his eyes roll over me searching for injury.
“I’m fine.” I try catching my breath, feeling his warm sticky fingers press into my skin.
“God, you're hurt.” I pull back when I realize it's blood, and that it’s coming from him.
“I’m fine,” he growls, quickly working to undo the cuffs around my wrists. He’s wearing only jeans and his skin and hair are soaked “Listen to me…” his hands quickly return to my face again, holding me steady, and forcing me to look at him and take in what he’s telling me. “I want you to go downstairs, lock all the doors, and do not let anyone inside unless it’s me. Do you understand?”
I nod back at him assertively, and when he pulls his hands away, I can still feel the blood on my skin.
“Brax, where are you going?” I call after him as he races toward the door.
“There were four,” he shouts back, “I only got three.” His voice trails off as he rushes back down the stairs and I hear the front door slam behind him. I quickly move off the bed, stepping over the dead corpse that’s lying between me and the bedroom door.
Slowly, I creep down the stairs, petrified of what I might find. I hear water running, as I step down the corridor, and when I push the bathroom door open, I find the shower still running. The white shower curtain now pulled from its rail and stained red. I throw my hands over my mouth and gasp when I see a face on the other side of it, the curtain sucked into its gaped open mouth and I back out of the room, resisting the urge to throw up.
Brax has done this, he’s killed these people. Maybe they were here to rescue me after all. This could all be a big mistake.
I run through to the kitchen and freeze when I see the body that Duke is snarling over. This one is laid face down, with a huge kitchen knife sticking into the center of his back. The radio he has strapped to his belt crackles, so with a shaky hand, I lift it up. It looks official, maybe I can use the thing to get some help, so I press down the button on the side.
“D13, come in, is it done?” a male voice on the other end of the line speaks. “D13, did you kill the girl?” the voice shouts impatiently, and I drop the radio out of my hands and back away from it.
My first instinct was correct, these people aren’t here to help me, they’re here to kill me.
I should have guessed that from the way the man upstairs had been so rough, who punches someone that they’re trying to rescue. When I hear footsteps on the back porch, I tap my leg for Duke to come to me, and he obeys, leaping over the dead body to stand beside me. I crouch down and hug him close to my chest, ignoring the fact that he’s probably riddled with fleas. Right now, he’s my only comfort.
“It's gonna be okay,” I whisper into his fur as it soaks up my tears. Reaching up above my head, I blindly feel around in the drawer for some kind of weapon. I repeat the same words over and over again to him, hoping that the next time I say them I might believe they’re true. My heart stops when the back door gets roughly kicked open, and I’m shocked at the relief I feel when Brax is the one to step through it.
He steps inside with another lifeless body draped over his shoulder. He looks battered, his naked torso covered in mud, his face splattered red and one of his eyes already beginning to swell. He lets the body drop off his shoulder, slumping onto the floor beside the other one, then he hunches forward, resting his hands on his knees while he works to catch his breath.
“Still think I’m the bad guy, darlin’?” He looks up and asks me between breaths, wiping the back of his bloody hand under his nose.
I shake my head back at him, tears streaming over my cheeks. I can’t remember ever feeling so relieved to see anyone in my life, and I have no control over my body when I scramble up onto my feet and throw my arms around Brax’s neck.
He tenses at the impact at first, but after a few awkward seconds, he straightens up his body and holds me tight against him, his hand pressing into the back of my head to keep me close.
“I was so worried you weren’t gonna come back,” I stutter through sobs. “They were sent here to kill me. I heard it through the radio.”
“You okay?” he pulls away from me so he can check me over again. Something is comforting in the way he does it, concern looks frightfully good on him.
“I’m fine but, you… you’re not. You’re bleeding.” I notice the wound just above his hip.
“It’s fine, just a scratch. We haven’t got much time.”
He bends down to one of the bodies and pulls the gun from the man’s belt.
“Government issue,” he talks to himself, pulling out the bottom of it and then snapping it back in place. He puts it on the table, then begins feeling around inside the man’s pockets. “CIA agent Darren Briggs.” He looks up at me. “Now, seeing as it’s the good guys that are holding the knives to your throat, sweetheart, I think It’s about time you told me everything you know.”
“I can’t, Brax, honestly I don’t know anything,” I tell him truthfully, and he shakes his head and barges past me, his fists clenched at his sides. I hear him charge up the stairs, returning to the kitchen just moments later with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Jessie, it’s me, we need to talk… Privately… Yeah, well considering someone’s already found us I think it’s a bit late for that.” Brax places two guns and what looks like official badges on the table, then moves into the bathroom, coming back with another gun and badge. He presses the phone against his shoulder, freeing up his hands to feel down the bodies on the kitchen floor until they are stripped of weapons and wallets.
“Get your old lady to work, I need her to run these IDs,” he says, lifting up the badges and reading one of the names.
“CIA agent Darren Briggs… Yeah, Jess, ya heard right, CI-mother-fucking-A…” he looks at me coldly as he listens to the person on the end of the phone. “I don’t know what Prez has told ya, but I’ve got a girl with me, I’m supposed to be holding her until I hear from him…” More silence follows his words and I feel my whole body shaking.
“I got that shit covered, Jess, I’ll take her somewhere I can guarantee she won’t be found, somewhere you fuckers don’t even know about, and considering this has rat written all over it, I suggest we keep it that way for now.” He looks around the room and grabs his black hoodie off one of the chairs, tossing it at me then tipping his chin as a signal for me to put it on. “I’ll be in touch in a few days, and whatever Prez has got planned, you tell him to hurry it the fuck up. This bitch is doing my head in.” He looks right at me as he says that, and for some pathetic reason, it makes my heart take a plunge.
Panic had me forgetting for a moment that Brax may be the good guy among these men who just tried to kill me, but he’s still the Dirty Soul that took me from my home without knowing a reason.
“I’ll send you some snaps of the badges so Maddy can get to work, and you best send Grimm out here to clean up this mess.” He pauses to listen to whatever is being said on the other end of the phone.
“Tell him, four. Two snapped necks, a knife in the back, and a real messy shower situation…” He hangs up without saying goodbye, seeming completely unfazed by the scene around us.
Using his phone, he takes pictures of the IDs that are laid out on the table, before lifting up his duffel bag from the corner of the room and pushing everything inside it. He flings it over his shoulder, then places one foot on the dead man’s back, using it as leverage to pull the knife out of his back. I watch him wipe the blade clean on the man’s bullet-proof vest before he reaches out for my hand.
“Where are we going?” I ask him as he drags me out of the house. He ignores my question, making a loud whistle when we reach the truck. Duke comes trotting out behind us and jumps up onto the bench seat when Brax opens the door.
“Can you drive stick?” he asks.
“I can actually, why?”
“Good…” he tosses me the keys. “’Cause you’re driving.” Holding on to the roof of the truck, he pulls himself inside, and I race around to get in the driver’s seat.
I’m in no fit state to drive but I have little choice. My shaky fingers manage to get the keys in the ignition and I pull off, heading up the long track. Brax reaches into his duffel bag and his blood-stained hand slams one of the guns on my lap.
“We run into trouble, you shoot first and ask questions later,” he tells me.
“And how do you know I’m not gonna shoot you?” I ask, and despite being in obvious pain, Brax manages to laugh, it’s the first time I’ve got a glimpse of happy outta him and it’s kinda beautiful.
“Because even you ain't that stupid,” he says, reaching into the glove box and pulling out a first aid box and a bottle of liquor. He snaps the top off the bottle and takes a long swig, then hissing through his teeth he pours some of the liquid directly over his wound. I try to focus on the track that leads us on to road property, but I can’t stop watching him.
“Fuck,” he curses, knocking back another mouthful. “Take a left up here,” he directs me, at the same time as he takes some medical tape from the first aid bag, and rips it into strips with his teeth. He wraps himself up, best he can, managing to stop the bleeding.
“I think you should get that looked at,” I suggest, my eyes darting between him and the road.
“I told you, it’s fine,” he growls, but the way he clutches at his side and pushes his head back into the seat tells me differently.
“There’s a motel, about two hours from here. We can rest up there,” he instructs me through gritted teeth.
“Who were those men, why would the CIA want to hurt me, Brax?” I need answers, tonight I came close to dying. I’d like to at least know why.
“I don’t know, Gracie, but we’re sure as hell gonna find out,” he promises.
Gracie? He’s never called me that before. My dad sometimes called me that when I was younger, and hearing it puts a warm feeling in my chest, which slightly dilutes some of the fear.
“I guess I should thank you… for what you did back there.” It hurts being so nice after what he said on the phone back at the house.
“Good job I always do what Prez tells me, huh?” he smirks at me through his pain.
“I don’t know… I was kinda looking forward to finding out how you planned on making my lips spill,” I hit back playfully but even I know there’s truth behind my words.
“Darlin’, I’m known for breaking rules, you really wouldn’t want me to make you one of ‘em.” And when I realize how seriously he’s looking back at me, I quickly focus back on the road.