The pain in my chest is intense, almost blinding. The air bag that’s deployed from my steering wheel has knocked all the wind out of me. I can hardly breathe, and an acrid stench pollutes the small amount of air I can get into my lungs.

I groan against the throb, forcing my eyes open. The car’s listing at an angle, my right side about forty-five degrees lower than my left. I’m in a deep ditch, next to what I think is a field, though all I can see through the passenger window is dirt and grass.

I turn my head to look around. A slice of pain lances through my ribs, making me gasp. I can’t tell much about my lower body, trapped as it is by the car. I force myself not to let my mind go down that path.

Through the fog of my agony, it’s an effort to think clearly, but a spike of fear reaches my brain as I remember the car that ran me off the road and realize what’s coming for me.

Wincing but determined, I contort my body enough to lift my right arm up toward my waist. I peer through the windows of the driver’s side, just in time to see the figure come over the ridge of earth at the top of the ditch. His face is twisted into a determined mask of anger. I know he’s come to kill me. I know I won’t make it out of here alive.

A strangled scream forces itself through my lips as I struggle against the air bag and belt. Desperately, I claw against the fabric of the bag, pushing my hand between it and my stomach. He comes closer, sidestepping his way down the embankment toward the car. He’s large, and strong-looking, and I know in my injured state I won’t stand a chance fighting him if it comes to that.

He reaches the bottom. When he peers through the windshield, his eyes lock on mine. The terror on my face must show, because he grins — a leer of triumph. Of pleasure — in anticipation of the pain he’s about to inflict.

My stomach roils. I inch my hand forward, my eyes not leaving his face.

Just as he reaches for the handle of my door, my gaze slips downward, just a couple of inches. What I see makes an electric jolt run through me.

Scratch marks, on his cheek.

This isn’t the first time we’ve met, he and I.

But it will be the last.

The handle of the door clicks, just as my fingers close around their target. The man’s eyes drop for a second as he realizes the door is locked, but then he looks at me again, grinning monstrously. The lock can’t protect you. He reaches behind himself, toward his back waistband, and as he does I drag my hand upward, say a prayer, and fire.

A deafening roar blocks out everything for a few seconds. Glass shatters all around me. I scream, but it makes no sound.

Then the glass stops falling. I realize my eyes are squeezed shut. I take a juddering breath and open them.

The airbag has deflated, and drapes limply over me like a thin blanket. The driver’s side window is completely shot out.

Through the angle of the opening, I can only see the top of the man’s head. He’s lying on the ground. He’s not moving. A few feet away, I see some red spatters of what must be blood.

The only sound I can hear is a distant ringing. I try to take another breath, but even without the airbag trapping me, I still can’t get a full lungful of air without the pain slicing through me.

I start to cry. The sound coming from inside me seems to be miles away. It scares me, so I make myself stop.

I’m starting to get dizzy. I don’t know if it’s lack of air, or adrenaline, or something else I am too afraid to contemplate.

Phone, I mouth.

It takes me a couple of minutes to dig it out of my pocket. The whole time I’m getting dizzier, the pain so bad I’m afraid I’ll pass out. Finally I manage to pull it up to my face. I can barely think. I want Travis, but I don’t have his number. So I try the next best thing.

Fumbling a bit, I push on her name on the screen. I still can’t hear, so I stare at the words until they say the call has started.

“Jewel,” I croak into the speaker. “I need Travis. I’ve been in a car accident. I’m on old Highway Fourteen, about… three miles north of town, I think.” I start to cry again. “Please, please, send him. I need… help… I think…”

Then suddenly it feels like I’m falling, and I drop the phone. Blackness overtakes me, and I drift into nothingness.

* * *

I’m awakened by a searing pain, like I’m being stabbed. I cry out, and try to fight my assailant, but a deep familiar voice stops me.

“Babe, stay with me,” he croons. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, B.”

I realize I’m being carried. His warm, strong arms hold me against his chest.

“Travis,” I gasp, tears pricking my eyes. “I…”

“Sshhh,” he stops me, murmuring against my ear. “Save your strength. We’ll talk later. You’re safe. Just relax.”

“It hurts so bad…”

“I know. The pain will stop soon. I promise.”

I sink against him, praying that he’s telling me the truth, and let the darkness take me again.

* * *

When I wake up again, I feel like I’m sinking in dark water. Everything’s blurry. It’s impossible to move my limbs. The pain is still there, but it’s far away.

“Is she coming around?” a female voice says.

“Babe?”

“Travis…” I whisper.

“How you feelin’?”

I swallow painfully. “Like death.”

He chuckles. “You came pretty close back there. But you’ll live.”

“Unfortunately,” I joke. With an effort, I open my eyes. He’s blurry, but it’s definitely him. There’s a figure next to him, too.

“Jewel?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Hey, there! You had us scared for a while.” She reaches down and squeezes my hand. “You’re a badass, you know that?”

I try a laugh, but it hurts so bad I end up gasping. “I don’t feel very badass right now.”

“Well, you are.” Jewel looks down at me and gives me a teary smile. “Natalia and Olga are going to be really relieved you’re okay.” She glances over at Travis. “I’m gonna leave you two alone, now that I’ve seen for myself that Brooke is awake.” She gives my hand one more squeeze and lets go. “You get some rest now, okay?”

I nod. “Jewel?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” I take a shallow breath. “I might not be here if you hadn’t answered your phone.”

“Don’t say that, honey,” she whispered. “But I’m glad I did.”

Jewel quietly slips out of the room, closing the door behind her. Beast and I watch her go, and then he turns to me.

“Seems like we’ve been spending a hell of a lot of time in this hospital,” he remarks, one corner of his mouth turning up.

“Yeah. I have to say, I’m not a fan.” I try to adjust myself in the bed, then grimace. “So, I’m guessing I broke a rib or two?”

“Four,” he corrects. “And fractured your sternum.”

“Shit,” I hiss. “No wonder it hurts so bad.”

“Yeah. You’re on a lot of pain meds, though. So it should keep the worst of it away.”

Now that we’re alone, my mind races back to the accident. “Travis,” I say suddenly, “what happened to the man who was after me?”

“You got him.” His face clouds over. “That son of a bitch will never hurt anyone again.”

“He had scratch marks on his cheek! He was the one who came after me in my hotel room.”

Travis nods. “Not surprised. Though, what was a surprise was who he is. Was,” he corrects himself.

“Who?”

“Officer Rob Johannsen.” Travis shakes his head. “Of the Tanner Springs Police Department, and underling to Chief Brandt Crup.”

“What?”

I sit bolt upright in the bed. The knife of pain is immediate, making me gasp and clutch at the mattress. “Holy shit,” I wheeze as I wait for it to pass.

“Jesus, Brooke.” Travis is up and helping me lie back down in an instant. “You gotta be more careful.” I collapse back against the mattress and close my eyes for a few seconds, trying to breathe through it. Eventually the pain starts to subside, and I open my eyes again.

“Travis, you have to tell me what’s going on,” I pant. “How could a cop be involved in this?”

“A lot went down today, babe,” he murmurs. “Turns out, there was way more going on behind the scenes than anyone knew. But you should rest,” he says, shaking his head. “I can tell you later.”

“Travis Carr, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me, I’ll get up out of this bed and find out myself!” I insist. “I won’t be able to rest until I know what’s going on, and you know it. So if you want me to have any hope of it, you better start talking.”

“There’s a hell of a lot,” he frowns. “But I’ll tell you what I know so far.”

I lean back against the pillows and sigh. “Okay. Good. So, go.”

His jaw tenses for a second. “Well. First of all. The guy Natalia said was rapin’ her. With the club cut.” He pauses, and his eyes grow dark and angry. “We confirmed who it was.”

“Who?”

His eyes lock on mine. “Our club president.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.” Travis’s face grows dark, murderous. “None of us knew. When you told us how Natalia described him, Angel and I realized right away it was him.” His lip curls in disgust. “We went to talk to him, back at our clubhouse, and we caught him in the middle of a phone conversation where he was sayin’ some pretty fucked up things. Come to find out, he was talkin’ to the mayor. Jarred Holloway.” Travis waits a beat, then leans in and looks at me. “Holloway is one of the kingpins of this trafficking ring, Brooke. And the cops are involved. Or at least, Chief Crup is. That’s why Johannsen ran you off the road. They were gonna kill you because you were getting too close.”

I gape at him. “Oh my God. The mayor, and the police, and your club president? How is that possible?”

He snorts, and shakes his head. “That ain’t all. But that’s the part I can tell you.”

“Travis, we have to break this ring open!” I cry. “We have to do something, now!”

“Already being handled, Brooke.”

“How?”

He pauses, weighing his words. “Look. There’s parts of this you can’t know. Club business, that I can’t tell you. But what I can tell you is, the Lords are gonna deliver the ring to the authorities. The people involved are gonna get served justice.” His jaw sets. “And those girls are gonna get free. All of them.”

“But…”

“Sshhh…” he interrupts me. “Brooke. You’ve gotta get some rest. I can’t tell you more right now. But I promise you. It’s being handled. And I’ll tell you what I can, as soon as I can.” He takes my hand in his large one. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

I close my eyes for a few moments. When I open them, his rough, handsome face is all I can see.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I trust you.”

“Good.” He leans over and kisses me. It’s soft and gentle, unlike any kiss he’s ever given me before. From far away, through the haze of drugs, a ribbon of desire threads its way through me. “It’s all gonna be good, Brooke.” He leans back. “Now, rest.”

“Okay,” I say softly. I don’t want to sleep, but I really am exhausted. “Will I see you later, then?”

“Me?” he asks in surprise. “I ain’t leavin’ your side.” He chuckles. “Now shut up and sleep, Brooke. Get better for me. I need you healthy again.”

Obediently, I close my eyes, feeling safe and happy that he’s going to stay here with me. As I drift off, I replay his words in my head. Or at least the ones I most want to hear.

“Get better for me. I need you healthy again.”

“Get better for me. I need you…”

“I need you…”