Chapter 1
The cast-iron skillet hit the side of his head with a resounding thwack, and the eggs I’d been cooking flew across the kitchen and landed on the floor. His skull crunched and he shrieked in rage as he recoiled and dropped the knife he was holding.
My heart jumped in my chest and my vision narrowed, adrenaline coursing through my blood.
A scowl of fury swept across his face as he came after me again.
Instinct took over and my body reacted, even as my mind cowered in fear.
I crouched as he leapt toward me and I swung the skillet at his knee. He faltered and howled in pain like a baying animal as he crashed to the floor and rolled over on his back.
He was down, and I knew it was my only chance. I gripped the skillet with both hands and wielded it with all my might.
I bashed in an occipital bone on the left side of his face and blood spurted from his eye socket.
I lifted my hands again, and then fractured his jaw with another blow.
He went limp on the ground, but I didn’t stop.
I hit him again and again, the skillet pulverizing flesh and bone. Deep, gulping breaths signaled his life was at its end.
Eventually, he fell silent.
His caved-in skull oozed brain and blood, staining the linoleum floor of the trailer.
Finally, my fingers loosened, and I dropped the skillet. The heavy thud of cast iron rang in my ears.
I stared down at the carnage. There was a pile of eggs a few feet from me, and cooking oil and blood all over the kitchen cabinets, ornamented by a corpse with brains spilling from the head of a man who had attacked me in the middle of the night.
It was like I’d floated out of my body, and I was witnessing it all from an aerial point of view.
With calm detachment, I stood up and turned off the stove burner. The blue flame disappeared, snuffed out like the life I’d just extinguished.
The scent of egg, cheese, and blood made my stomach lurch, and I leaned over the kitchen sink and vomited, heaving until there was nothing left. I spat out bile and made a move to wipe my mouth, but my hands were covered in blood.
I turned on the faucet and grabbed the bottle of liquid dish soap and squirted it all over my palms and fingers. I used the scrub brush to aggressively wash my skin.
A maniacal giggle escaped my lips.
Lady Macbeth.
I turned off the water and dried my hands on a ragged, faded white dish towel and then walked out the back door of the trailer into the muggy night.
It was just past midnight, and as I passed the other trailers in the park I lived in, I heard country music, a couple fighting, and the blare of TVs. I was grateful for the sounds and wondered if they had aided in concealing what had just transpired.
I made it to Carla’s back door and knocked. When she didn’t answer right away, I knocked again, this time with more force.
The door cracked and then flew open as a pair of blue eyes raked over me. She reached out and grasped my hand, hauling me inside.
It smelled like vanilla incense.
I took a deep breath and then instantly regretted it. Vanilla mixed with the aroma of death in my nose almost had me running for the sink again.
“Oh my God! What the fuck happened to you? Are you okay?” she demanded, her plump red lips parting in shock. Carla ran a hand through her dyed blonde hair and blew out a puff of air. “There’s blood on your face. You gotta tell me what happened so I know what the fuck is going on.”
“Body,” I blurted out. “There’s a dead body in my kitchen. He broke into my… I don’t know who he is, but he was going to… I was cooking eggs and I bashed his head in with a cast-iron skillet.” I looked down at the floor.
She shook her head in disbelief. “Fuck, Sutton.”
“I know.” I gazed at her.
Her blue eyes were rimmed with liner and heavy mascara.
“You’re the only one I trust.”
“You really have no idea who this guy is?”
“No. He’s covered in a bunch of tattoos, but I—”
The heavy clomp of boots across linoleum had me snapping my mouth shut and shooting an angry glare at Carla. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t alone.”
Carla looked over her shoulder at the blond man who’d entered the kitchen. He was tall, muscular, and wore a leather cut. His blue gaze combed over me, and his jaw clenched.
I lifted my chin and refused to cower, even though I had just confessed to murder.
“Which trailer is yours?” he demanded.
I blinked and glanced at Carla, who nodded. “It’s okay. You can trust Savage.”
Trust a man named Savage? Yeah, right.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Trailer,” he commanded without explaining. “Tell me which one it is.”
His tone didn’t allow for an argument. “The white one at the end of the cul-de-sac. The back door is unlocked.”
He nodded and pointed a finger at me. “Do not move from that spot. I’ll be back.” He glanced at Carla, and through a look I couldn’t quite discern, they seemed to have a silent conversation I wasn’t privy to.
Savage opened the door near the kitchen and left. As it shut behind him, Carla rushed to the door to lock it.
“Sorry I ruined your night,” I mumbled.
“Stop,” she said. She reached for a bottle of vodka on top of the fridge. She opened a cupboard and pulled out two glasses and poured a hefty amount of liquor into both. She handed me one of the cups.
I took it but didn’t drink.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“A biker.”
“Yeah. I figured that part out on my own. I didn’t know you’d taken up with bikers.”
“I haven’t taken up with anyone.”
“Are you dating him?”
She smiled slightly. “You don’t date Savage. You fuck Savage and then let him go off into the wild. You do not pen a wild stallion.”
Despite the situation I sniggered, and then threw back most of the vodka. It was cheap and it burned.
As we waited for Savage to return, we shared another drink. My hands were shaking.
The knob on the back door made a noise, causing me to jump.
“It’s just Savage,” Carla said, running to unlock the door and let him in.
The big biker stepped into the room. He looked at me and then at Carla. They had another one of those silent conversations, except this time their look made me nervous.
My gaze bounced between them. Carla’s mouth pinched into a firm line and Savage appeared grim.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I blurted out.
“A dead body is never good,” Savage stated. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He pressed the screen and put the phone to his ear. After a moment, he said, “Hey, brother. I need Ghost. Yeah, and bring Viper. I’m at Carla’s.” He paused and then said, “Thanks. See you.”
He hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“You got anything of value in that trailer?” Savage asked. “Paperwork? Any sentimental shit?”
I frowned. “No. Well, I guess maybe some clothes and my pistol. It’s in my nightstand drawer.”
“Doesn’t do you any good in your nightstand drawer,” Savage drawled. “Though you made short work of that guy with a skillet.”