I asked, “Things like revenge?”
His jaw tightened.
“Who are you planning on—”
“Don’t. Not yet.” He stepped back, letting me go with a small shove. “It’s all wrapped up in the parts I can’t explain.” He ran an angry hand through his hair.
My palms turned sweaty with nerves. What was he hiding?
“Explain, Art. The sooner you begin, the sooner it’s over.”
“And the sooner you’ll run because you won’t understand,” he growled. Shaking his head, he snapped, “No. I can’t tell you—not in words. I need to show you.” His temper faded and he gave me a sheepish smile. “Today. I’ll show you today.”
His face lost the dark shadows of vendettas. He shoved his hand into a jeans pocket. Taking my fingers, he turned my wrist until it rested upside down and placed the Libra eraser in my palm. “I’ve carried this with me every day since you gave it to me. I hated it for a time because it was still here and you weren’t. But then I loved it.”
Dragging me into another kiss, his body shook, sending desire and pain through my system. Desire for this man who never let me die. And pain for his suffering—for everything he’d had to live through.
“I want you to have it, Cleo. It brought you back—it belongs to you.”
I shook my head, trying to untangle myself from his embrace. “I can’t. It’s yours.”
“I’ve got something so much better.”
I knew what he would say, but I smiled and asked anyway, “And what’s that?”
His lips whispered over mine. “My Buttercup.”
I surrendered to his taste, kissing him back. I wanted to turn around and go back home. I wanted to ignore the outside world and the endless questions for a bit longer. I was selfish—selfish for a boy who’d turned into a man without me.
His tongue tangled with mine, our bodies pressing harder and harder against each other—seeking release from the rapidly building lust.
Breathing hard, I ended the kiss. Something he’d said before niggled me. “You didn’t have it on you every day.”
He frowned, his lips wet and swollen. “What?”
“That day I arrived. It was in your room.” My mind skipped back to that night—the battle, the blood, his wound that almost made him die. More fear filled my heart. “Art, if I hadn’t arrived that night… you would’ve died.”
His jaw clenched as he looked away and I saw what he didn’t want me to see. He’d been reckless with his life. Reckless with safety and his health because he had nothing to live for.
I crashed against his chest, nuzzling my head into his body and wrapping my arms tight around his waist. “Please tell me you weren’t that stupid—that broken—to want to die?”
“No.” His baritone echoed in my ear from where I pressed against him. “I must admit some days I was weak. Some days I didn’t want to get out of fucking bed at the thought of not having anyone to live for. But vengeance is a fine thing. It kept me alive when nothing else could. I wouldn’t have let myself die that night. I would’ve stayed alive because I fucking refuse to die before they get what’s coming to them.”
I looked up, yet more confusion layering my overstretched brain. “Who?”
He brushed a thumb over the apple of my cheek. “You’ll find out. I promise. And when you do, you’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“Is it anything to do with the uprising—that rebellion when I arrived?”
Arthur frowned, looking over his shoulder at the empty Club room. “That wasn’t related to the Club—not directly, anyway.”
“If it wasn’t related to Pure Corruption, what was it, then?” I couldn’t understand the dynamics. Arthur had built an MC that obeyed its own laws—unlike others.
“Four years ago when I took over, I wasn’t exactly a lot of members’ first choice.”
I moved closer, placing the Libra eraser back in his pocket. He frowned. “That’s—”
“It’s yours. And anyway, I don’t have any pockets.” Standing on my tiptoes to distract him from giving me something that meant the world to him, I said, “You’d always be my first choice.”
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes, absorbed with the past. “I came in, changed their patch, their oath—turned them from criminal to legit. I did everything he ever asked me to do.”
“He?”
His arm wrapped around my waist again. “Wallstreet. He was the reason—” Cutting himself off, he said, “He’s the only man I’ll ever fight for. The only man I’ll stay loyal to because of what he’s given me.” Waving his arm around the designer room, he added, “All of this—this belonged to Wallstreet. He built this Club, he expanded to Chapters all around the USA, but then he was put away and the guy he left in charge betrayed him.”
I didn’t know if I liked Wallstreet. He’d been fundamental in my sale, after all. He sounded like a bastard—not that I would say that.
Understanding swooped into my brain. “He asked you to rule in his stead?”
Arthur nodded. “Most of the crew hated how the new president ruined everything Wallstreet had built. They were happy to stand behind me, even though I came from a background that made it, let’s just say… difficult. But there were others still loyal to Magnet.”
“The man who betrayed Wallstreet?” I tried my hardest to understand and follow his story.
“Yes. Overnight the Corrupts became Pure Corruption and the Chapters had to obey the switch or be cut. It’s been a long fucking four years.” He smiled tiredly. “But for the most of it, the men are decent and just want peace and a law they can follow that will protect their assets and family.”
“And you gave them that.”
He gathered me close. “I gave them that.”
I snuggled closer, hungering for his body. All this talking and touching played havoc with my body and mind. I loved learning, peeling back the layers to find the truth, but I would’ve preferred to do it in bed, where I could distract him when topics got heavy. Changing the subject, I asked, “So they all have their own homes?”
Arthur nodded. “Some have a few. They’re fucking rich bastards. All of them—thanks to the skills Wallstreet taught me. Wealth is shared in the Club. I ask for obedience and trust, and in return they provide for their families, spend their time how they want, and have my back if I have tasks for them.”
A splash of temper filled me. “And trafficking women, was that a task?” I hadn’t meant to say it, but the crushing level of guilt I felt over the five women who’d been sold weighed on my mind. “Art, those women you sold. I can’t believe—I mean the boy I knew would never have done that. Is there some way to save them?”
His eyes darkened with anger. “Don’t, Cleo. You don’t know what the hell is going on, and I won’t let you judge me. Those trades were the first and the last, but there was a reason for them. Trust me.”
I hung my head. “I do trust you, but… you sold people. You sent them to a life of slavery. That’s not exactly easy to forget or condone.”
He shook his head. “I lied to you when I said they were chosen at random. They weren’t. They were marked for reasons that I won’t go into with you. Don’t feel sorry for them. Don’t think they didn’t deserve what happened.”
Fear skittered down my spine. “What do you mean?”
They were chosen? Does that mean I was, too?
The question came loaded with far too many repercussions to sort through.
Arthur grabbed my wrist, pulling me close. “I mean that there’s so much going on that I need to explain, but first I need to get this straightened out. Then we need to see Wallstreet.”
I didn’t want to go see him. What would I say? How would I hide the anger I felt?
“Prez?” Grasshopper appeared from a side door that presumably led into either an office or bedroom off the main sitting area.
“Hopper.” Arthur nodded. “Did you get everything I asked?”
“I
tried, but I’m still confused. You need to start talking, dude.”
Arthur didn’t let me go, dragging me toward Grasshopper.
His blue eyes landed on mine; his mohawk bristled. “What’s she doing here? I thought you took her to the buyer?”
“Nice to see you, too,” I huffed.
Grasshopper cringed. “I didn’t mean it like that… not exactly.” A smile tugged his mouth as he looked me up and down. “I take it lies weren’t lies after all?” His gaze landed on Arthur, happiness glowing for his friend.
Art said, “She’s staying with me. I made a mistake. From now on you treat her with the same respect you treat me. She’s mine, wears my patch, and will eventually be my old lady.”
My heart smacked against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe.
It seemed neither could Grasshopper. He punched himself in the chest as he coughed. “Fuck, dude! You mean she’s her? Her her? Fuck!” He took a step toward me, energy bursting from him.
My mind skipped, overwhelmed with the declaration of being Art’s, and being elevated to power in just one order.
“But your name is Sarah. That wasn’t her name.” His attention turned to Arthur. “Am I missing something?”
“It seems I have two names—or two identities.” Two lives? Too many things to remember before they made sense.
Grasshopper paused, his mouth hanging open. “So… you are her? The infamous Kill has performed a miracle and brought the dead girl back to life?” He swiped a hand over his face. “Fuck, this isn’t making sense.”
Arthur chuckled, the respect he had for his second in charge obvious in his eyes. “Her name is Cleo, possibly Sarah, too, but we need to confirm that. I didn’t bring her back to life, but she’s back in my world and never leaving.”
Grasshopper’s gaze flew wide. “Holy fuck. This is insane.” He looked between us. “But… how? I don’t…”
I laughed.
His amazement was comical. Plus, I didn’t doubt he felt a little self-conscious for having stepped over the line and told me things about Arthur he probably shouldn’t have. “Nice to meet you, Jared. I’m Cleo.” I stuck my hand out.
Grasshopper’s face darkened. “Fuck, you know my name, too. Witchcraft, I tell you.” Taking my hand, he shook it once, pulling me close. “I must know everything so my brain doesn’t explode.”
“You and me both.” I laughed again.
Arthur grabbed my hips, pulling me away from Grasshopper with a stern look. “What I want to know is how Cleo came into our possession.”
My laughter faded as Arthur’s voice drifted into strict business. “Explain to me where she was taken, who stole her, and what the fuck was the bullshit someone told me of her being his whore?”
My head snapped up. “What?” I looked between the two men. “Whose whore? I was nobody’s—”
Arthur cringed. “Nothing. I was told a lie about who you are in order for me to go ahead with the sale. I want to know who came up with it, so he can answer my goddamn questions.”
Grasshopper shifted on the spot. “Bazza. He told me that he got her from the Dagger’s, along with the other girls and she’d been in his bed. His bed, dude. I mean—it couldn’t be more of a fucking slight now that we know.”
Oh my God. My head. It couldn’t continue on like this, with half-truths, vague recollections, and hidden agendas. “Will someone please tell me what the hell all of this means?”
Grasshopper looked to Arthur, sharing a look that spoke volumes but remaining silent with answers.
Ignoring me, Arthur balled his hands. “You do realize I will get to the bottom of this, and when I do, I hope to fuck those I trust aren’t involved.”
The room’s oxygen wassucked into a vacuum. Grasshopper turned cold and menacing. He morphed into a biker with a vendetta—just like his president. “Someone has to have been working us from the inside. Shit.” He dragged hands through his hair, messing up his mohawk till it stood up in every which way. “Fuck!”
Arthur matched his anger with his livid face and highly strung muscles. “I want to know who, Hopper. And I want to know now.”
Fear charged down my back; I wanted to run from their palpable energy building like a cyclone. Lighter Boy. It was him.
Before I could announce my epiphany, Arthur muttered, “The complications and consequences of this are gonna bring everything we’ve been working toward to an end.”
Burn, baby girl. Burn.
I shivered. “What do you mean?”
It was Grasshopper who answered. His voice low and anger lacing every word. “It means those motherfuckers have used us again. First him, now you.”
Arthur’s fists turned white.
“Prez, didn’t think I’d see you here.” Mo appeared, his blond hair sticking up as if he’d just pulled his bike helmet off. His gaze fell to mine but he kept his questions hidden.
The tension that’d built in our small group faded thanks to the newcomer.
Arthur looked at him, his eyes dark and suspicious. “Are the other guys here?”
Mo shook his head. “No, just us. No trades today. No meetings. A lot of them are having a family day.”
Arthur nodded. “Good. We’re going on a little trip.” Dragging a hand through his long hair, he said, “The four of us are going on the hunt for fucking answers.”
Finally!
Arthur took my hand. “It’s time to unravel this mess once and for all. And when I find out what the fuck it all means…”
Grasshopper stepped forward, his hands curling by his sides. “It means we’ll finally have what we’ve been working toward all these years.”
Goose bumps scattered down my spine.
“Vengeance,” Mo muttered, his face glowing with eager pride. “Down with denial. Death to the traitors.”
Arthur nodded. “It’s time for war.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pain came in many forms.
Loneliness.
Betrayal.
Sacrifice.
But I’d found love to be the most painful of all.
I was invincible when no other emotion controlled me. I was single-minded in my determination to deliver justice. I had a gift of blotting out the world and throwing myself into numbers, calculations, and vengeance.
But when Cleo looked into my eyes with the same soul-depth connection we’d shared all those years ago, it fucking crippled me.
I became useless. Weak. Besotted.
I wanted to forget about all my plans and run far away to keep her safe.
Yet even though she granted me happiness with her tender touches and smiles, there was a blankness inside her, too. A scary void that blocked out all we’d shared, leaving me even more alone than before.
I loved a stranger. A stranger who knew me better than I knew myself.
Who would’ve thought her love for me could hurt so much?
Who could’ve thought my heart would break all over again knowing she’d forgotten?
Forgotten everything I’d whispered to her.
Everything we’d promised.
—Kill
The wind whipped in my face as I clung to Arthur’s waist.
It seemed life went from normal speed to hyper-overdrive. The moment he’d decided to solve the riddle that was my life, we all sprang into action. No planning, no hesitation.
A collective nod and intelligent men turned into hunting savages—focused on one goal.
I was surprised Arthur hadn’t thrown me over his shoulder and tossed me onto his bike with the rage he was in. The anger he kept wrapped around himself had been refastened after our tryst; he was back in full command.
He’d captured my wrist and the four of us stormed to the garage and its awaiting steeds. Instead of velveteen horses and lances, the knights defending my honor climbed aboard their trusty Triumphs and cocked their guns, ready for battle.
I just hoped there would be no war and answers would put aside whatever feud Arthur had with people I didn’t
know. I wanted life to be simple again—not the messy ball of lies it had become.
I’d tried to speak to Arthur over the whipping wind as we shot down roads beneath hot sunshine, but with helmets and the insane pace he pushed his machine, my voice had no hope of being heard.
His body was tight, fists white around the handlebars. My body plastered against his in a borrowed leather jacket.
City, suburbia, then highway became my view as the rumble and thunder of three Triumphs ate tarmac with ravenous speed.
I had no idea where we were going.
Twenty minutes went by—zipping and weaving down roads and highways.
Forty minutes—my front grew sticky and hot pressed against Arthur’s powerful back.
Fifty minutes—my spine tingled with foreboding the longer we traveled.
An hour.
And still we rode.
The roar of not just our bike but Grasshopper and Mo’s too no longer lived in my ears but in my soul. My heart purred to it. My stomach churned to it.
Family sedans slowed down to let us pass. Big rigs moved off the median to let us charge in front. Was it respect or fear that gave the bikers the road? Either way, their throttles remained high and tires chewed up tarmac as cities disappeared behind us.
We finally slowed and entered a small town. We meandered down lanes and through suburban neighborhood perfection. At every corner, my heart beat harder.
I—I know this place…
My eyes fell on a park complete with faded monkey bars, seesaw, and swing.
My world disintegrated.
“Would you let me kiss you if I pushed?”
I spun around, locking eyes with the boy who, until last week, hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. He’d been so mean when I’d asked him to watch TV with me while my parents were out, I’d cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t understand how we’d gone from being so close and sharing our deepest secrets to being complete strangers.
My mom said Art had needs and I would understand when puberty happened to me.
I’d scoffed and said puberty sucked.
Art had needs—I was his need. Stupid boy just hadn’t figured it out yet.
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