KNIVES (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 10)

by K. L. Savage

  Fucking, fuck everyone.

  “Doc, call me when she wakes up, and I’ll come right back. I need to clear my head. I don’t want her to think I left her. I’d never leave anyone I care about. I’ll always be back.” I run out the front door, ashamed to admit that not only am I angry, but I have tears in my eyes. I am feeling a hundred emotions.

  A part of me is happy that he is alive. Holy shit, my brother is alive, but a part of me feels stupid. I feel like that little boy again who knew nothing about the world, and I hate it. I have worked my ass off to not be that boy, yet here I am. Once again, Mason is showing up to be the knight in fucking shining armor, and I’m left to watch him save the day from a distance.

  I pause at where I usually park my bike to see the spot empty. I’m confused for a second, wondering where the hell my bike went, only to remember it’s burnt to a crisp on the side of the road, so I can’t go for a ride.

  “Sonofabitch!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I don’t need to ride like this anyway. Riding angry is never a good thing; that’s how accidents happen. You become more careless and not as aware of your surroundings. I need to be here for Mary when she wakes up anyway.

  “Everything okay, Knives?” Braveheart pops his head from the security shed where he controls the gate.

  “Does it sound like everything is okay, Braveheart?” I snap at the kid, feeling bad. None of this is his fault. I rub a hand over my face, trying to get my bearings. “I’m sorry, Braveheart. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, his large Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. He is wearing his glasses today, which reminds me of when he first started to prospect for the club. He usually wears contacts these days, so seeing him wearing the black frames makes me remember a doofy kid who had no idea what his strengths were.

  He is a lot like Skirt, more of a scrapper than a professional fighter, but holy hell, Braveheart has the heart of a lion. It surprises me because he is tall and lean, a bit awkward too.

  “Well, if you ever want to talk…” He lets the words hang out as bait, and I wonder if I should take him up on it. I’m still riled up from the tension in the clubhouse. It might be good to talk to someone who isn’t pissed off either. “I have hooch,” he says, holding out a bottle of whiskey.

  “You dog. What the hell are you doing with that?” Warmth firing down my throat is just what I need.

  “We can’t have any near Patrick, which is fine, but out here, I get bored and cold. Whiskey helps.”

  “You know you don’t have to stay out here, right? Please, tell me someone told you that.”

  “Um…” he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and twists the cap off the whiskey. He gulps it down and coughs from the spice of the whiskey. “No…” he admits, and his blatant oblivion has me tossing my head back and laughing. Oh my god, the poor bastard.

  I take the whiskey from him and shake the bottle at him before sighing and take a swallow. “I needed that. Braveheart, man, you don’t have to protect the gate at all times.”

  “Yes, I do. Too much shit has happened. Too many people have hurt us. I’m here. Night and day. I watch the road. I watch the gate. I don’t want anyone to hurt my family again.”

  He feels guilty. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t have to. I see it in his profile as he stares down the road. Braveheart’s jaw is tight, and he stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket. It’s cold out here, lonely, and he feels obligated to protect us.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I tell him, setting the bottle on the shelf in front of him. “These people, they come at us from all angles, from every aspect. Whatever happens here, it is not your fault. You should be inside with everyone. Believe me when I say, there is no obligation here to waste your life away in a fucking shed when there are people who care about you inside, Braveheart. Tank is in there, bless his damn teddy bear soul, he jumps when Happy is near. He doesn’t have a brave bone in his body.”

  That makes Braveheart smile. “And what about you?” he asks. “Why aren’t you inside?”

  “Because someone is in there that’s been dead to me for a long time. I need a minute to wrap my head around it.”

  “Oh, the guy Mercy brought in?”

  “Yeah. He has information on Mary’s dad, but how can I trust him? How did he get into the FBI? Why didn’t he tell me? What if he wasn’t on our side? Does he know anything about Maximo and why the hell he is working for Preacher Man?”

  Braveheart blows out a breath, and frozen particles fill the air as he thinks about what to say. He lifts his feet up, placing them on the shelf to get comfortable. “Those are a lot of questions, Knives. Questions only he knows the answers to.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him, Braveheart. I don’t think I can.”

  “For Mary?” he asks me. “Maybe don’t do it for you. Do it for her. After all this is said and done, you don’t have to talk to him again.”

  And the thought of that hurts like hell too. “Give me that.” I steal the bottle away from him again and take another swig. “Don’t let Patrick see this.”

  “No, I keep it locked up like Prez says to do. If Maximo went behind our backs, if he’s as slimy as I think he is, what would happen?”

  “War,” I say, the word causing my stomach to turn. A lot of lives would be lost. “Moretti needs to remember. If he can get his memory back, I think we would know a lot more than what we do. Right after our partnership solidified, the hotel explosion happened, and we weren’t able to grow like we wanted to. Maximo came and changed everything.”

  “Something is up with him, Knives. I’ll be honest, and I’ve never said this out loud, but I don’t think he can be trusted. Every move he makes, every time he speaks, I don’t understand how Reaper can look past the obvious. He has to know Maximo is not on our side. He has to.”

  “Reaper has a lot to think about right now. He is trying to keep the peace. We have families here.”

  “Either way, they are in danger until the threat is neutralized.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. The more I think about his words, the more they resonate with Mary. The club isn’t my only family anymore; Mary is too. Until her threat is taken care of, she will always be in danger.

  “Oh, before I forget.” Braveheart ducks back into his shed and grabs a package, handing it over to me. “This came in the mail for you.”

  I raise an eyebrow in curiosity and rip open the package. It’s my new phone. Finally. With everything going on, at least something went right today.

  “Thanks, Braveheart.” I don’t just mean for the phone, but by the look we give each other, I’m sure he understands what I mean.

  “Anytime, Knives.”

  I turn on my heel and head to the clubhouse, sucking up all my pride and all my pain to go take care of Mary.

  Mason is dead. My past has no say here.

  It’s all about Mary and how I can make sure she’s safe.

  Ow.

  “Holy crap,” I say on a held breath as I start to rouse. My head is killing me. I feel like I got hit with a bat.

  I did see Whistler…

  But no, that’s not what happened.

  “Hellraiser.”

  I wince as I look left to see Knives sitting in a chair, and he looks so relieved to see me awake. “What happened?”

  “Someone ran you over, and you tripped and hit your head.”

  “You worried us,” Sarah says from the bed next to me. “Sorry, I’m down here for monitoring for the little chipmunk, since I’ve been having some pain.”

  “Oh no, is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” I ask her in a hurry.

  “I’m fine. I have to take it easy. The muscles in my stomach never healed properly after being shanked—”

  “—Don’t say it like that. It isn’t funny,” Tongue says out of the darkness… somewhere. And his statement is followed by a hiss.

  That is terrifying. I’m glad I woke up to Knives next to me.

  “Anyw
ay, he might be hard to carry to term because I won’t have the muscle strength for my stomach to grow, and it will mess with my hips and pelvis.”

  Tongue comes out from the far corner and walks by us, head down, and heads upstairs with Happy strapped to his chest.

  “Tongue! I’m going to be—” but Tongue shuts the door before she can finish her sentence. “Okay.” She lays her hand on her stomach, which is still flat. If I remember correctly, she isn’t that far along, and she’s already having issues. I’m sure she’s scared.

  “Okay, Sarah. Everything looks good. No exercise,” says Doc.

  Sarah purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Define exercise.”

  Doc rubs his temples and then places his hands in a steepled position under his nose. “No rough sex. Nothing that will strain the muscle in your stomach. Keep it vanilla. Extra vanilla. I’ll have a talk with Reaper.”

  Sarah groans dramatically and falls back on the bed. “Vanilla? No one likes vanilla here, Doc.”

  “Oh, me so sad for you,” Doc pouts.

  “You’re mean.”

  “You’ll thank me when you’re holding your baby for the first time.”

  Sarah gets this wistful look in her eye as she lays her hand on her belly, but the moment is ruined when loud, pounding steps hurry down the basement stairs. It’s Reaper. His eyes are wide, and he seems scared. “Doll? What’s wrong? Why are you down here? What happened? Is the baby okay? Are you okay? Why didn’t anyone come and get me!” he roars, and the stainless steel walls vibrate from the loud boom.

  “Oh my god, no,” Reaper leans against the wall, defeated, broken, and his eyes water. “We lost the baby? Sarah…” He turns around and punches a hole in the wall, and everyone is so shocked from the quick conclusion that he made that no one speaks up to calm him down.

  “Reaper, no. Oh my god, no. The baby is okay,” Sarah says, swinging her legs over the bed to stand. She pulls the stickers that connect to the monitors off her stomach and tugs her shirt down and runs over to him. Her hand lands in the middle of his back, and he pulls her in front of him to where we can’t see her anymore because his body covers hers.

  “You’re okay. The baby is okay?”

  I turn away from them, my heart breaking for Reaper and Sarah. The relief, fear, and tremble in his throat has my eyes burning.

  “I was having some pain, and you were in a meeting. It wasn’t the same kind of pain as before,” Sarah explains. “The muscles in my stomach didn’t heal like they should have and carrying can be complicated and dangerous. Doc wants to keep a close eye on me. Very close. But the baby is healthy. And… Doc found something I think you’ll really like. Want to hear it?”

  Reaper doesn’t say anything, and I watch as Sarah drags him to the bed where she was sitting moments ago. I squeeze Knives’ hand, and for some reason, I feel really lucky to be a part of this moment with them. Knives kisses my temple and brings his lips to my ear, “I want that with you.”

  “Really?” I say, holding back from tackling him to the ground and getting to work on a family. I never thought this would happen. I thought I’d always be at my dad’s mercy, but I ran, thinking I was running toward death, when really it led me right here, to freedom

  “Really.”

  I’m about to ask what changed when Doc squirts the jelly on her stomach and rolls over an ultrasound machine.

  Reaper is holding her hand, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to see this big bad man, the President of the Ruthless Kings, become emotional and afraid. Knives leans over and slaps Reaper on the back, giving him an encouraging nod.

  A gesture that everything will be okay, but I can tell Reaper doesn’t believe it.

  Doc places the wand on Sarah’s stomach and points. “Okay, Reaper. Do you see this area? It’s grey.”

  “Yeah,” he chokes.

  “That’s the muscle. It’s fragile, but it isn’t in the worst shape. Down here—” Doc sides the wand further down and searches for something specific. “Where is it…” he continues to try, and then a fast whoosh takes over the speakers.

  Thumpthumpthumpthump.

  “That’s your baby’s heartbeat, Reaper. Strong and healthy.”

  Reaper stares at Doc with watery eyes, and his cheeks turn red. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, Reaper. You want me to record it for you?”

  Reaper nods, squeezing Sarah’s hand so hard, I’m afraid he is going to break it. “Please, please, please. I want to hear it every day.”

  Even Doc is getting emotional.

  “Sure thing,” he says, pressing a few buttons. “And that little bean right there is your baby.” He points to a little blob on the screen, and I can’t tell it’s a baby, but I believe Doc.

  Reaper can’t stop staring at the computer. He lifts his finger, grazing it over the white dot. He peers down at Sarah and lays his hand on her belly, cupping it with protection. The width of his palm covers her midsection, but it makes me hold my breath.

  “Thank you,” Reaper’s voice breaks. “I love you so much, Doll.” He pulls himself forward and kisses her senseless.

  I can’t help it. I’m a crying mess, and I start clapping. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you guys.”

  “Mary,” Knives rolls his eyes but keeps a smile on his face as he tries to lower my hands, but I shrug away and keep clapping. “They don’t want a round of applause.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, and Reaper takes a bow. “Yay! You did it.”

  “Yeah, we did.” He doesn’t say it in a cocky way, but a proud reassuring way. “Hey, Doc. Do you care if we stay down here for a while and watch the screen? I just… I’m not ready to leave yet.”

  “I’ll say you two deserve it. Take as long as you need.”

  “When can we find out the sex?”

  “I don’t want to know,” Reaper says. “It doesn’t matter. Happy and healthy, that’s all I want the two of you to be.”

  “Aw.”

  “Okay, Doc. I think she is having concussion symptoms,” Knives says about me.

  “I’m allowed to be happy for them. And aren’t you supposed to be…” A pain shoots through my head when I think about the fight upstairs. “Isn’t there something important you need to be doing? I can’t remember what it is…”

  “You missed all the important stuff,” Doc says, flashing a light in my eyes to check my pupils. “You wouldn’t have remembered it, so don’t strain yourself. Knives’ brother came back from the dead, and apparently, he worked with your dad because he is undercover FBI.”

  “What?” I stare at Knives, who is flipping a star across his knuckles. I snag it from him and hide it under my butt. “Mason is back? I thought you said—”

  “He is. He was. I didn’t know he was alive. I don’t know if it is him.”

  “Would I know him?” I ask. “If he worked for my father?”

  Knives’ eyes go dark, and the clear crystal color replaces the bright blue, something that happens when he is pissed. “He better hope like hell he never ran into you, because I’ll kill him all over again.”

  “Why aren’t you talking to him?”

  “Because you’re more important. He can wait. Your dad can wait. You were hurt, and I want to be by your side. I want to make sure you’re okay. When I know you’re safe, I’ll talk to him.”

  Moretti walks out of the playroom, and as he walks to a nearby bed, he leaves bloody footprints behind him.

  Doc closes the playroom door right as Maximo screams.

  “I don’t think my brother is a good man,” Moretti says. “I can’t remember why, but I don’t believe him when he says Mary’s father took Natalia. Something in my gut tells me, Reaper.”

  “We will find out. I think tonight, everyone settles. Relax. Tomorrow, we try and get everything out of the way. We’ll make a plan. Mary will be safe, and maybe, we can save a few others from his clutches too. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth it ever is.” Reaper rubs S
arah’s stomach and closes his eyes to listen to the song of the heartbeat on the monitor.

  “Congratulations, Reaper. I am happy for you,” Moretti says, trying to smile, but his eyes are sad.

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt my family, and that includes your brother. I think he is trying to play us. I’m starting to wonder what else he is behind if he has his hand in this.”

  “I wish I could tell you,” Moretti says, dropping his elbows to his knees. “I wish I knew.”

  I can’t imagine not being able to remember anything. Every memory Moretti makes is one of his firsts. We are all he knows, and I’m wondering if that is why he has stayed here. I know Doc said he could leave, but he chooses not to.

  “I swear, Reaper. If I remember anything, one tiny thing, I will let you know, but my head is dark. There is nothing. I want to protect him. He is my flesh and blood. He’s my brother.”

  “I know,” Reaper says with understanding, not only for his MC brothers but for his sister that surprised everyone for Christmas. “It isn’t you I doubt, Moretti. Okay?”

  Moretti nods, stands, and leaves. He is light on his feet as he climbs the steps to head toward his room.

  “Seems like all the issues revolve around family,” Knives says, tracing the spot where a ring would sit on my left hand. “Family can be a real pain in the ass, can’t it?”

  “You need to talk to him before getting information out of him,” I offer, hoping he chooses to be put next to his issues and make himself a priority. “Talk to your brother before you talk to the agent side of him. You won’t be able to talk if you don’t ask the questions I know are rolling around in your head.”

  “You come first.”

  “Knives—”

  “You come first. End of discussion, Mary. I love you, but please, do not push this. Mason might not be dead to any of you, but he is to me. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner he can leave.”