Nowhere But Here - Katie McGarry MIRA Ink

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sunrise?”

      “I mean it,” he says. “You’ve already caused this family a world of hurt. If you tell Eli she gave you this, it’ll end badly for Olivia.”

      Anger wells up inside me to the point I feel like a volcano. Olivia, Olivia, Olivia. I am so sick of him mentioning Olivia. “Well, I guess your precious Olivia is safe because besides having this picture I don’t know anything!”

      “Good,” he snaps.

      “Good,” I shout back.

      “Great!”

      “Can we watch the freaking sunrise?” I seethe.

      “That we can do.”

      A rumble of engines from the road and my heart kicks into high gear. Thank God, this is over. I jump to my feet and race to the front steps. Six motorcycles growl into the clearing. All the riders appear the same: big men wearing black leather Reign of Terror vests.

      Four of them break from the pack and head to an overly large garage on the other side of the yard. The other two park along the edge of the driveway. With their backs to the light, their faces are blacked out by shadow.

      My fingers twist and untwist together as I strain to hear another engine—a more familiar one, one belonging to a car, but as each bike shuts down, I experience a loneliness in the silence.

      There’s movement near me and sound...but not the sound I long to hear. The clink of men swinging off their bikes. Oz’s boots thumping on the wood to be closer to me. The squeak of the door opening behind me. Even the coolness of the morning tries to steal my attention from the road, but I won’t look away. They’re coming for me. My parents are coming for me.

      “I thought you’d be asleep,” Eli says at the bottom of the stairs.

      “I’m not.” A cloud moves and a ray of dull early-morning light strikes the road. No car. No hum of a smooth engine. No crackle of rocks under a tire. “How far behind are my mom and dad?”

      Eli walks up the stairs and puts a firm hand on my arm. “They’re not coming, Emily.”

      My words haunt me: You could be kidnapping me... Eli’s still talking. At least I believe he is, but all I hear is a low-pitched roar. They’re not coming. They’re not coming...

      I spin, because if I do, then I’ll see something else. Hear something else. But I only see Oz. He lowers his head so that his hair hides his eyes. The roar is replaced by a high-pitched ringing and it grows louder and louder, drowning everything out. Almost everything. I can clearly hear the scream inside my head.

      I spin again, but then think oddly how my feet didn’t move and how they are perfectly cemented to the ground and yet the world is twirling.

      Twirling.

      The last stars in the sky are twirling.

      Heat creeps along my hairline while a cold clamminess claims my neck.

      “Emily?” Eli’s voice breaks through the chaos. “Emily, are you okay?”

      For a second, I’m weightless. Like if I was to stand on my tiptoes I could lift into the air and fly, but then a sharp tilt causes the wooden floor to rush toward my face.

      The world goes dark.

       Oz

      WIND BLOWS IN from the north and a few pieces of Emily’s dark hair sweep across her face. One minute Emily’s a bright flame, then a gust snuffs out her light. Her body sways like a top at the tail end of a spin and I lunge forward.

      Emily’s knees give out and her eyes roll back into her head. I catch her inches before she crashes onto the porch. She’s light as I swing her into my arms and her head circles onto my shoulder, reminding me of one of those rag dolls Violet used to play with when we were kids.

      “Emily!” Eli’s on top of me, attempting to yank her out of my arms. “Open your eyes.”

      Her eyelids flutter, but remain closed as her hand limply clutches my shirt. Eli rams his arms underneath mine and he makes Emily a rope in a tug-of-war. I should let her go. I should want to let her go, but then Emily goes and screws it up for me. “Oz.”

      It was a damn whisper, but I heard my name on her lips and so did Eli. His eyes flash to mine and Cyrus’s words repeat in my mind. That girl trusts you. And screw us both for that.

      “She’s exhausted,” I say. “Hasn’t slept at all tonight.”

      Eli’s expression hardens as he glares at me. I’ve seen Eli throw a coma-inducing punch for less defiance and I readjust the sleeping girl in my arms. A reminder if he decks me now, he’ll be putting his daughter at risk.

      Temporarily surrendering, Eli cups Emily’s face in his hands and angles her toward him. “Emily, please open your eyes.”

      She does. It’s barely a crack and they’re completely glazed.

      “Everything’s going to be okay,” Eli affirms.

      “I want my mom and dad,” she mumbles.

      “You’ll see them tomorrow.” Eli pushes a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

      She rejects Eli by curling into me. Her head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck and I loathe the wave of protectiveness that rumbles through my body. Emily’s fingers tighten their grip near my shoulders and the impulse is to shield her from the guys gawking at this intimate scene. Yeah, this is club business, but Emily never asked for any of this.

      Cyrus opens the door and I move past Eli. He’s hot on my heels. So close, his breath hits the back of my neck. Mom steps out of the kitchen and is down the hallway before me. She waves for me to enter the spare bedroom.

      It’s the bedroom no one ever uses. First it belonged to Eli’s brother and then he died. Most can get over that, but people will crash on the couch and hardwood floor before sleeping in the bedroom that Emily and her mother once claimed. The purple room with white bedding is cursed. No one wants anything to do with a traitor.

      I lay Emily on the bed. Her arms fall over her head and her dark hair fans out on the pillow. Her eyes are shut and her breaths come out in a deep rhythmic pattern. I ease back as Eli spreads a blanket over Emily and removes the shoes from her feet, dropping each one to the floor.

      Emily’s hand drifts to the edge of the bed and her fingers splay open. The picture Olivia gave her floats to the floor like a feather in the breeze. My heart pounds hard once. I go to retrieve it, but Mom snatches it with death written over her face. Her eyes meet mine and we stare at each other as if we’re looking down the business end of a rifle.

      If Eli found that picture in Emily’s possession, he would have spiraled into dangerous quick.

      “Where’d she get this?” Mom mouths.

      I tilt my head toward Olivia’s bedroom and her eyes slam shut. As Eli straightens, Mom shoves the picture in her jeans pocket then spins on her heel and touches Eli’s arm to gain his attention. “Would you like me to stay with Emily?”

      Eli draws a hand over his face and walks over to the window seat. He sags onto it and appears to age ten years.

      Since Eli entered my life at eleven, he’s always been badass. All the stories I had been told before he returned to Snowflake made him larger than life. In reality, Eli is larger than life. Over six feet tall. Broad-shouldered. The Reign of Terror’s black leather cut strong on his back. I’ve seen him easily kick the shit out of any man stupid enough to stand in his way.

      “Tell Cyrus I’ll update him soon, but I need to be in here,” Eli says. “Emily will need some things. Clothes, personal stuff. A burner phone. Can you handle that for me?”

      “Of course,”

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