Page 22 of Road to Absolution

“One! Two! Three…” The fucking ref was back in the ring with me, yelling, “Four! Five!”

From my hands and knees, dazed, I peered up, “I need my wife.” There was blood all over the mat, confusing me because I had won that match. Why was I being forced to fight it again?

The ref smirked.“Does it matter?”

I wanted to tell him to fuck off, because of course it mattered. Everything about her did. But I didn’t need to say shit. She was finally in the audience, in her white flowy dress, smiling and waiting… I fought to get my feet under me. Once standing, I weakly stumbled toward her. “Lilah—”

“She ain’t here!” cheerfully yelled the biker, rain still wetting him and my truck, causing searing and hissing sounds as the drops mixed with the fire hunting me down.

At that very moment, I felt cheated. No longer from the impending death—by bullet or blaze. I wanted to be back in the living room with Delilah when everything felt so much simpler.

“Kiss your ass goodbye, unlucky bastard,” cackled the soulless biker. “A Hell Fury wants you gone.” The smell of smoke began to fill my lungs while I wondered what a Hell Fury was. Then I watched the man’s eyes dart past me. He grumbled, “Useless fuckers,” before running away from my truck and into the woods behind the tree in which I was now embedded.

Mercifully, my eyes closed… I hoped to see Lilah.

“Crazy Love” started to play in my mind, easing my heart, but the ref yelled over it, “Does it matter?”

Back in the ring, on my hands and knees, I swallowed to talk but tasted iron. I choked out, “Yes, she matters.”

He was suddenly in my face, sneering, “Then fight, Boxer Boy.”

Jarred. I felt jarred when finding myself back on my childhood front porch, officers asking, “Did you hear me, son?” Again, I pushed past them and down the steps, into Lilah’s arms.

Holding each other so tight as “Crazy Love” played, we started dancing…

She sighed. “Will you fight for me, Maverick?”

I pulled back just far enough to stare into her gorgeous golden-brown eyes. “Anything you want.” My lips lowered to hers—

Suddenly the rain was pelting me, and I was being dragged from the truck. A male was pulling me under my arms, grunting as he struggled with my weight. I would’ve helped if I were able, but my body was not under my control. I was nothing but dead weight.

My eyes were barely cracked open, but I could still see my truck on fire to my right.

To my left was a woman in dark clothing staring at the tree suspiciously. As I was dragged past her, I studied her body’s defensive posture while her gloved hands retrieved two guns from a holster strapped to her chest. She started backing up to follow us but seemed to be refusing to turn her back to the tree, while she said, “Giver, I see movement.”

That name had my spirit fighting my mind from its simple desire to shut down for good. Steel Stallions! My relief that I had a chance to survive this was profound. Giver! If Redemption Ryders trusted them, then I surrendered my hope to them.

They would need that hope because we were still in trouble. Justice! I tried to tell her, He’s there! The biker with the gun! But my mouth wouldn’t open or make any noise no matter how I tried. Maybe it was due to the head injury. Possibly, it was because I was in shock, seeing my legs being dragged through wet grass while… on fire.

The grave maker was calling my name. I was calling Lilah…

My eyes shut. She was there. Smiling and calm, yet saying,“Fight for me.”

The heart in my chest was only beating because she wanted it to. “Anything you want—”

I gasped as my eyes flew open, trying to help Lilah get her wish, but also due to gunfire! Boom! Boom! Boom! I was lying flat on the ground behind the bed of my truck with my feet at the driver’s side, my head at the passenger’s. Someone was roughly slapping my legs…

Boom! Boom! Boom! Again, there was gunfire.

“Justice!” yelled a young man about my age. He was to my left, on a knee, frantically attempting to snuff out my burning legs. His longer hair swung during his valiant effort to help me, even though my legs didn’t have his full attention. A scruffy beard surrounded his panting mouth that warned, “Woman, get to me now!” The biker in the black leather vest that had patches reading, Steal Stallions and Giver, was studying Justice with such intensity I instantly knew they weren’t just biker-buddies. He was madly in love with her.

I understood his determination. Lilah…

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Still backing up, Justice shot her two weapons like a professional. Aimed. Focused. As if it weren’t merely the guns that were deadly. She was a weapon herself.

She was almost to my feet when several bullets, from our enemy hidden somewhere by the tree, hit her in the chest. It was horrific to watch Giver reach out for her but be too late. Her body practically folded in half, her feet lifting into the air as she flew backward, out of my sight.