Faster (Stark Ink, #3) (28 page)

It must not have because Adam’s own face softened. “I don’t understand this,” he told her. “I just don’t get it.”

“Well, you don’t have to!”

Ava certainly didn’t want him to. Not yet. By the time Adam figured out that she’d run off by herself, if he ever figured it out, it would be too late for him to do anything about it anyway.

She’d make this one trip, return with the money, and then she’d disappear off the face of the Earth. Surely, they wouldn’t hurt her family, not if she had nothing in her possession they wanted and as long as she didn’t go to the cops.

If she just vanished, the Buzzards would forget about her.

Maybe everyone would forget about her. Even Emilio. Maybe even her family.

Ava choked back a sob as she practically ran for the front door. All her life, she’d wanted nothing more than to be a Stark. After tonight, she wouldn’t be anyone—no one at all.

“Ava, wait. You can’t just leave.”

“Why not? You don’t need me. None of you even really want me, anyway. Pop thinks I’m Mom half the time. You’ve barely spoken to me my entire life. I’m surprised you don’t just call me Ashley!”

Adam’s mouth dropped open. He stared at her, blinking rapidly. “What in the hell,” he said slowly, “are you talking about? What does any of this have to do with
Ashley
?”

Ava’s mouth snapped shut and she pressed her lips together. She’d broken the Golden Stark Rule.

Thou shalt not speak of Ashley.

“Ava...”

Instinct came surging back. Silence had been ingrained in her for almost 20 years. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Adam rubbed his face across his stubbled chin. He stared at her in wonder. “I... I’m surprised you even remember about Ashley.”

Ava jerked her head up to look at him. “How could I forget?”

Spoken of or not, Ashley loomed over Ava’s life like a shadow, always there, even if just out of her view on some days.

Adam sighed. “You were so little. I mean, no one knew what to say to you about it. And it was so hard for Mom to talk about anyway. Eventually you just stopped asking. We thought you forgot.”

Ava snorted. “It’s impossible to forget. She probably would’ve been better. She would have made a better Stark, I’m sure. Sorry you’re stuck with the knockoff.”

A long, tense silence hung between them. A flash of confusion swept over Adam’s features. “Ava—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. This isn’t about that.”

“Ava—”

“I’m leaving. Just for a little while,” she lied again. She was on a roll. She might as well just keep going. “I’ll be fine.” She turned back to the door.

“Ava, you were adopted
before
Mom got pregnant with Ashley.”

Ava froze, hand on the doorknob. For a single moment, the entire world swam before her eyes. Her fingers shook. “What?” she half-whispered.

“You were almost three when Mom got pregnant. It was a shock, obviously. They thought they were done having kids the old-fashioned way. But something happened with Mom’s tubal. Didn’t take, or reversed itself, or some such thing. And surprise, you were going to be a big sister.”

“No,” Ava argued. She kept her hand on the knob but half turned toward her older brother. “No, they lost her, then they got me, and—”

Adam shook his head. “You had a T-shirt: World’s Best Big Sister. You never took it off. Hell, you slept in it that whole last month. Right up until the miscarriage.”

Ava could do nothing but shake her head at him. That’s not how she remembered it. But she didn’t remember it, did she? Not really. Barely. It was just a story she heard. Mom and Pop whispering in the dark sometimes when Mom was sad.

Did Ava have it all wrong? Her whole life? She’d just been holding the documentation in her hand, but she hadn’t noticed the date on it. She hadn’t even bothered to check.

“No one said anything,” she replied. “No one talks about her.”

Adam sighed. “It was hard, especially on Mom, losing her as far along as she was. It was tough, physically, too. She was in the hospital for a few days. Pop was a mess, driving back and forth for visiting hours and work. Mrs. Stoddard offered to take you.”

“Mrs. Stoddard.” An errant tear slid down Ava’s cheek. “Mrs. Stoddard and her stupid fucking cats.”

“Well, we didn’t know what else to do. Dalton and I were barely out of high school. Three-year-olds were beyond our expertise.”

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Ava’s vision blurred through tears. Her cheeks stung.

“I was first,” she whispered, mostly to herself.

It seemed so unbelievable.

“You were. And we loved you. We still do.”

She stared at her older brother, lower lip trembling. Her throat burned with the desire to tell Adam everything, to tell him how badly she’d fucked up. But she couldn’t. She knew all too well what would happen if she did. Someone might even be watching the house right now.

Ava couldn’t risk it.

“I have to go!” she blurted out instead. She twisted the knob, threw the front door open, and surged out into the dying light.

“Ava!”

She didn’t stop running, though. She ran to the end of the block, clutching her backpack. She ran past the church where she scratched at her tights and lost her shoes. Her legs kept pumping the cracked sidewalk. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air. She couldn’t think about it now. There wasn’t time. She had to get to the warehouse, had to make one last run.

She’d have her whole life to try and make sense of what Adam had told her, to rebuild her world around this revelation. And she’d have to rebuild, because she could never come back here again.

T
he bus station was practically deserted this late at night. A few stragglers peppered the benches around the lobby. People in ratty T-shirts and dirty sneakers. Ava passed them up, and the ticket window, as well. She found the rental lockers off to the side.

Opening one, she slid off her backpack and opened the main compartment. Doing everything she could to obscure herself from view, she carefully slipped out the manila envelope that housed most of her winnings and deposited it into the steel cage.

Keeping only a few hundred dollars in her pocket, she locked the rest up tight and hustled back outside to the street where the cabbie had waited. He should have, she thought. She’d tipped him enough, for God’s sake.

They pulled away again and left the city center behind. He slowed at the edge of the warehouse district, at Ava’s direction. He started to protest about leaving her here, but she tossed a few extra bills for the fare over the seat and surged out the door and took off on foot.

He must not have been too worried about leaving her; he drove away.

As she walked toward the warehouse, she lamented having to use so much of her cash to pay the driver. She regretted even more that she couldn’t call Sienna for a ride. It had been a shitty goodbye and her best friend deserved better. Everyone deserved better, better than her.

She’d write, she decided. Send a postcard. Or pick up a prepaid phone and call whenever she landed in her new place. She’d keep in touch. If they wanted her to.

The warehouse district wasn’t exactly a good place for a teenage girl to hang out after dark, or anyone, really. There were probably more than a few junkies camped out in any of the abandoned buildings scattered throughout the area. Ava walked quietly to avoid advertising her presence.

As she turned the corner, she caught sight of the warehouse. A sickly yellow glow shone out of the dirty front windows. Ava steeled herself as she headed for it. She needed her bike and she’d do whatever it took to get it.

Someone was posted outside in the parking lot. He was leaning against the building, taking long drags from a cigarette. Ava only glanced at him for a moment, but it was no one she recognized. He seemed to know her, though, because he didn’t hassle her.

She goose-stepped past him and slipped into the building. Her heart kicked up a bit when she saw her bike in the corner, looking as perfect as the day she’d bought it. They’d at least managed to put it back together.

In the middle of the floor, Clint’s green BMW lay in pieces while Clint looked on in disgust. Ava knew the feeling, but she couldn’t muster any sympathy for the bastard.

Hook and Haze were talking in low tones near the workbench. Ava edged closer to them, closer to Haze anyway, because it seemed safer. They both stopped speaking and looked over at her. Ava’s belly roiled again as she thought about Hook’s terrible threats, the pictures he had of Zoey and the baby. Beside him lay a heavy wrench. If things went sideways, Ava vowed to use it on him. She could at least take him out before the others got to her. It might almost be worth it.

Haze seemed to catch her looking and stepped into her line of vision. His expression told her that taking a swing at the Buzzards’ president was a bad idea. He reached out, palm open, and Ava hesitated.

“Phone,” he ordered.

She handed it over reluctantly.

Haze tapped the screen over and over as she watched. From her vantage point, though, she couldn’t see exactly what he was doing.

“The address is saved,” he told her.

“X marks the spot!” Hook said giddily.

Haze ignored him. “Drive straight there and straight back. You need to be back here by midnight tomorrow.”

Ava felt her jaw nearly hit the floor. “That’s—” She was tempted to say crazy, or stupid, or impossible, but there was no way she could argue with these men. She was too likely to end up on the concrete floor. “That’s not enough time,” she said quietly. “I can’t get there and back in just one day.”

No matter where in Canada it was, the border was several hours of hard driving. And what about traffic? Weather?
Customs?
She was about to ask, when the shortest one started toward her.

Ava stiffened but didn’t back away.

He reached into his front pocket, rooting around in there. The look on his face made Ava’s stomach turn. She wouldn’t doubt that he was playing with himself. When he got within arm’s reach, though, he pulled out his hand and opened his palm.

She didn’t want to, but she looked down anyway. He had a tiny brown vial in his palm. Ava had never seen anything like it before outside of a movie screen. She could guess at what was inside.

Behind him, Hook grunted. “You’re giving her the good stuff? Why? Why not just hook her up with some meth?”

The short man grinned and waited for Ava to take the offering.

Not knowing what else to do, she reached out and snatched the vial quickly, trying not to touch him as she did so. 

He didn’t seem to notice her aversion. He shook his head at Hook. “Nah, meth’ll fuck up her face.” He lifted his hand and stroked a finger down Ava’s cheek.

She closed her eyes to avoid flinching.

“I like her face. Don’t get caught with it at the border,” he advised. He grabbed his crotch again and squeezed. “Might want to hide it somewhere... safe,” he said with a grin. “And be sure to think of me while it’s up there.”

Ava squeezed the vial hard until her hand ached.

“It’ll get you through the night,” he assured her. “No rest stops. Straight there and straight back. There’s more where that came from. Plenty more. Don’t worry about cash.” This time he did grab himself, smiling as he did. “We can work something out.”

Ava wanted to punch him, so she turned away. She reached out for the keys from Haze. From behind her, the short one called out, “You’ll be begging for me soon enough. They all do. After all, I’m the Candy-man.”

“You don’t need it,” Haze told her quietly, nodding to her palm. “Keep it at sixty-five; don’t attract attention to yourself. Don’t sleep more than two hours and you can make it back in time.” He gripped her arm firmly. “Outside of Rapid City, we don’t have an in with law enforcement. No Staties; avoid them like the plague,” he told her. “And definitely no Mounties.”

Ava’s lower lip quivered. State Police, Canadian Mounties. She realized she was in serious danger, from them, from breaking down, from losing it altogether. Something in the big man’s eyes softened, just a bit. Or maybe she imagined it. She was looking for sympathy in all the wrong places these days. She’d walked out on the only people who really cared about her.

Haze nodded toward her bike. “GPS,” he said quietly. “We’ll know where you are. We’ll be tracking your run.” He left the rest of the threat unspoken. For some illogical reason, Ava was grateful for that.

She’d ditch the phone when she’d completed the run. Toss it into the sewer or something. She almost laughed out loud at the idea of the sewer. It seemed so appropriate at this point. She came back to reality with Haze looking down at her. He seemed... disappointed maybe. Or just tired. Or both.

Ava could relate. And this time she
did
sympathize. 

“We all make choices, little one,” he told her. “Make the right one.”

A
va made the only choice available to her, the only one that would keep everyone safe. She grabbed the bike and walked it out of the sliding bay door that someone had opened for her. She was glad she’d dumped off the cash, even though the Buzzards hadn’t checked her pack. She couldn’t risk alerting them that she was going to jam once she was back from Canada.

She’d drop off... whatever it was they sent her back with. Even if she had to tear apart her own bike to do it. She throw them their “package” as she sped by. Hell, she might even chuck it into the nearby dumpster in the dark of night and just text Clint instructions on where to find it.

Whatever it took so that she never had to lay eyes on these bastards again.

She straddled her bike and slipped on her helmet. Thankfully, it started in just one attempt. Whatever they’d done to the bike didn’t seem to have damaged it. She looked down and noticed the gas tank was less than half full. She frowned and made a note to stop at a gas station up near the border before crossing over.

Hopefully she had time.

She revved the engine, checking the sound of the exhaust. Everything seemed to be in working order. She lifted her feet from the gravel and sped off into the darkness, not looking back. Never looking back. If she never saw them again, she’d count it as a blessing.