Penance

by Kristin Harte

  Alder lived up to my assumptions. “I need everyone to step up. We might be getting a visit from the national head of the Soul Suckers, and I don’t want any sort of shit heading Shye’s way.”

  Motherfu—

  Deacon knocked on the bar top, giving me a weighted look. “What the kid said. Whatever you need, man. You’ve got us.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Trying hard to keep my voice level. “Whatever you need.”

  Even though what he’d need would fly straight in the face of what I needed. His needs would bring more disruptions. Alder and this war with the motorcycle club had wreaked havoc on my normally orderly schedule, but I’d been handling the upheaval. Sort of. Barring the whole razor thing. That had come out of the blue, though. Security details and guarding Shye wouldn’t. With enough planning, I could handle just about anything. Alder and Deacon were planners—I could do this.

  “I knew I could count on both of you.” Alder looked my way, his smile dropping a little. “Have you met our guests yet? Jinx and Parris?”

  I hadn’t. He’d told me two new people were in town, but they’d already been holed up at the motel when I’d stopped at the bar the night before. “No. Why?”

  Deacon nodded toward the front of the bar. “Because you’re about to.”

  The door swung open, and a man and woman walked through it. The guy reminded me of my brother Bishop—big, mean-looking, and full of the sort of swagger that came from military training. His high and tight haircut and the Semper Fi tattoo on his arm told me he was a Marine. The glower on his face told me he was trouble.

  But the girl was the one who stole my attention. Short, blond, and curvy in all the right places, with ink and scars decorating her skin. Lots and lots of skin—those were the shortest damn shorts I’d ever seen in my life. Hell, even dressed in a gunnysack, she’d have stood out in a crowd. In a room of just four men, looking like sin and sex and temptation personified, she might as well have been standing under a spotlight. One that shone a light on every instinct I had for self-preservation.

  Alder had said her name was Jinx, as in curse, and it fit her to a T.

  That girl was trouble. Dangerous trouble.

  And I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

  Chapter Two

  JINX

  Finding myself in a strange room—in a strange bed, even—without a stitch of clothing on my body had become far too normal at that point in my life. Which was a really fucked-up thought to wake up to.

  I rolled over carefully, keeping my weight off my injured back. Letting the sheet tangle between my legs and the pale sunlight pull my mind from the dark place where it had wallowed overnight. Nightmares galore. They never ended, never gave me a break. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept without having one.

  I also couldn’t get up—couldn’t put my brain into gear or my muscles to use just yet. I needed to shake off the fear and the pain radiating off my body. It’d been a long night. Hell, if I were being honest with myself, I’d say it’d been a long few days. Maybe a long few years. And I wasn’t anywhere close to being done with—

  The door swung open, rebounding off the wall as I yelped and sat up. My back screamed in protest, the skin pulling tight and likely opening up one of the scabs there. Parris walked into my space just as he always did—as if he owned me. Which, technically, he might have. But that was a whole other shitshow I didn’t have the energy to deal with.

  “Get out.” I tugged the sheet up my body, not really hiding much. The man had seen me naked before. He’d seen me a lot more naked than simply being without clothes, too.

  “Get up,” he said, just before he tossed some clothes on the bed. His eyes never left my face as he stood and waited for me to do what I’d been told. He crossed his thick arms over his broad chest when I didn’t, making him look even more solid and wall-like than before. I’d once told my mom Parris reminded me of a tree. She’d said, “No, honey. Trees stay still. They’re tall and broad, visible from miles away. Parris is more like a shark—huge and dangerous and able to hide until it’s too late to get away from him.”

  She hadn’t been wrong.

  “Not happening.” I flopped onto my stomach, tugging the sheet over my head. Keeping the fabric off my back and letting him see the damage that Soul Suckers crew had done. The ones Parris hadn’t been quick enough to save me from. Broken promises. All just broken promises. “Get out. I can’t deal with you today.”

  “I said get up.”

  “And I said no.”

  He yanked the sheet off the bed, leaving me with nothing to hide behind. Nothing to stop him from looking over every inch of me. Seeing every cut and scar. Every mark from the damage of the past few months. I lifted myself up, making sure he saw the slashes across my back, at the blood probably dripping there, before turning around and sitting up. Glaring at him.

  “I need time to rest and heal. Or did you forget I was tied to a cross and whipped by your friend yesterday?”

  His voice wasn’t as rough when he said, “He wasn’t my friend. And I know you need to heal—your back looks rough as fuck—but I brought you a dark shirt so you wouldn’t…”

  “Bleed through it and scare the locals,” I said when he couldn’t, unable to hide the sneer in my voice. “How thoughtful.”

  “Quit being a brat, Jinx. We’ve got shit to do.”

  We always had shit to do. Usually, it was the kind I didn’t want to be involved in. Being under Parris’ guard meant dealing with every sort of rider the Black Angels Motorcycle Club had to offer. Good and bad, leaning heavily on the bad. This time, though, we had new people around us. Non-club type people. Men who might be good, though the jury was still out on that. It was easy to fake being a decent human being for a day or so.

  When Parris’ glare grew too dark for me to ignore for another moment, I rose to my feet and stretched, making sure the man got a good, long look at the bloody mess of my back. At the slices that had burned and itched and ached all night long. At the punishment I’d received for his mistake. I found more than a small bit of satisfaction in the way Parris’ jaw clenched and how he couldn’t keep his eyes on the palette of blood and torment my back had become.

  Good. “The only shit I need to do today is whatever Church tells me to.”

  That brought his attention back to me. “Church?”

  “Yeah, you know. Deacon. Church.”

  He scoffed. “Jesus, Jinx.”

  “Heard that before.” I grabbed the clothes he’d so generously thrown at me and tugged on a pair of shorts—the shortest damn Daisy Dukes I’d ever laid eyes on—and a shirt that had big block letters across the front, spelling out the word “savage” in capital letters. SAVAGE, as if with teeth. Fitting. I was feeling a little savage, even if I was way too underdressed for the weather outside. I was going to freeze—not that I’d tell Parris that. “What’s so important that you have to come wake me up anyway?”

  “We need to head over to the bar. See what sort of trouble these fuckers have gotten into already so I can figure out how to get them out of it.” He handed me a toothbrush and travel-size toothpaste. “Here. Your church guy said the clothes and this was the best he could do for now.”

  I clutched that toothbrush in my hand, remembering the time I’d begged Parris for one. The time I’d been without for too many days to count because some club member had decided I didn’t deserve to be clean. The time he’d picked me up off the floor and had brushed my teeth for me because the cuts on my arms—the ones his so-called brothers had given me—had hurt too much to move.

  Still, I refused to be indebted to a man like Parris. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

  “Yeah, kid, I do.” He headed for the door, pausing as he swung it open. “I’ll be outside. Move your ass—it’s cold out there.”

  Then he was gone, and I was left wanting to throw something at his big, blocky head. I wasn’t a kid. Not by a long shot, but Parris liked to toss words like that at me. Words
that reminded me he’d known me when I was a kid. When I’d been too young and naïve, thinking he was a tree, big and safe to rest in the shadow of. Not old enough to see the shark before me, even with my mom warning me of what to expect.

  There were days when I hated him more than I’d ever thought it was possible to hate another human being. Today was one of them.

  Teeth brushed, face washed, and hair…well, sort of tamed, I headed into the cold to meet up with Mr. Shit To Do so we could walk across the parking lot to The Jury Room. Cute name for a dumpy-looking bar. No, that was wrong. Dumpy implied it was a shambles—the place looked clean and kept up, with rocks in the flower beds and actual windows in the walls instead of blacked-out, bulletproof glass. Even the front door to the bar seemed pristine, as if no one had ever kicked the thing or pushed on it with their keys in their hands. The slab of metal didn’t have a scratch on it. The bar and motel didn’t look like dumps. They looked cared for and clean, but poor. Simple in a way that implied better wasn’t going to happen. Like the homes I’d grown up in.

  God, I missed those trashy apartments and run-down rental houses. Or maybe, just maybe, I missed my mom. Which was not the path to go down right then.

  Still, The Jury Room looked a lot better than places I’d been hanging out. And the men I’d met—the owner of the bar and his buddy who’d saved me from the hell I’d found myself in just twenty-four hours ago—they seemed better than the guys I’d been hanging around, too. Kinder. More honest.

  Which made them dangerous. An unknown risk. I’d rather cling to the danger I knew.

  “You sure about these guys?” I asked as Parris led me toward that way-too-perfect metal door. Just one flaw—it needed a dent or a scratch. Could it even be a bar if the door didn’t have a little grime on it? If I weren’t about to die of hypothermia, I might have worked out a plan to make that door more normal. Maybe. Right then, all I could think about was that my back felt as if it was on fire and my arms were going to fall off if I didn’t get them warmed up soon.

  Note to self: find a winter coat. And pants. Pants would be good.

  Parris paused when he reached the front walk of the bar, giving me a chance to catch up with him. Pinning me with a solid glare when I didn’t move fast enough. “As sure as I can be. We’ve got a few mutual friends I trust with my life, and they say these guys are legit. Don’t fuck with them.”

  I held up my hands. “I’ve got no intentions to. I only want to make sure I’m not walking into what I just got pulled out of.”

  He grunted, heading for the door again. “Let’s hope they’re better than that.”

  Sure. Hope. That and a banana would get me…nothing but a banana. And I hated bananas.

  Parris opened the door and walked inside as if he’d been there a thousand times. Maybe he had—it wasn’t as if I could keep track of the man.

  I followed, relishing the warmth of the place and keeping close to Parris’ hip. I might not always like the guy, but he had a wicked fighting style and an annoying need to defend me that had come in handy once or twice. Bonus points for the fact that he was big enough I could practically hide behind him. And right then, as three men turned to look me over in varying degrees of interest and concern, I felt the need to hide.

  Church was there along with tree guy—the big boss man. Alder, if I remembered right. A new guy stood nearby, tall and lean with straw-like blond hair cropped close to his head and blue-gray eyes that reminded me of the sky right before a storm came. Eyes that were taking in every inch of me. And there were a lot of inches to see—damn shorts might as well have been underwear, which I didn’t have on because I had no clothes of my own with me. I should have been grateful church guy had been able to find anything at all for me on such short notice, but with Storm over there practically trying to absorb me with his look, grateful didn’t come easy. Uncomfortable did. Scared did. Interest was a bad thing in my world. It was way better to be invisible. Storm had just made things clear—no way would I be invisible to him.

  Trouble. That man was nothing but trouble.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Church—Deacon—said, looking from me to Parris and back again. “I hope you slept well.”

  Parris took that one. “Slept fine. Thanks for the room.”

  “Plural.” I shrugged when he shot me a glare. “Rooms. Plural. I got my own.”

  His growly voice deepened, a sure sign of his frustration with me. “Rooms. Thank you for the rooms.”

  Score one for Jinx in the pissing off Parris game.

  Deacon either didn’t notice Parris’ crankiness or didn’t care. “Well, I was happy to oblige. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

  My stomach was practically eating itself, I was so hungry, but I’d learned a long time ago not to ask for anything I wasn’t willing to earn. And since I still had no idea who these guys were, I kept my mouth shut. Parris wasn’t so cautious.

  “I’m fine, but maybe Jinx wants something. I don’t think either of us had dinner.”

  “That’s our fault,” Alder said. Looking so damn tall and confident. This was the man in charge—I could sense it. “We were on a tight schedule to get back, so we didn’t stop to eat. I’m sorry about that, Jinx.”

  Apologies were really rare in my world. Like, really, really rare. As in nonexistent. It took me a few seconds to remember how to respond to one. “Oh no, you’re fine.”

  Storm cocked his head, his brow furrowing. “You’re Midwestern.”

  No question. No doubt either. All said in a voice that could have been made of warm caramel or something equally as thick and smooth. “No, but my mom was from Wisconsin… How’d you know?”

  Everyone in the room focused on Storm, something that would have made me want to squirm. He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, though.

  “Only in the Midwest do people reply ‘oh no, you’re fine’ to an apology.”

  That couldn’t be true, but I didn’t call him out on it. Parris opened his mouth, though.

  “She also says ope when she bumps into things. And pop—she always says pop.”

  “What the fuck’s a pop?” Deacon asked, looking all sorts of confused. “Do I need to learn a whole new language?”

  Meanwhile, Storm hadn’t stopped looking at me. Inspecting me. His attention both lit a spark inside of me and turned my blood cold. The clothing I wore left little to the imagination. My scars were on full display, the remnants and memories of the past year of living a false life right there for him to see. To judge.

  I couldn’t take it, so I shifted my focus to Deacon. “Pop is soda, but I’m actually smart enough to switch to whatever other people say. Parris just likes to be an asshole sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?” the man in question asked, obviously making fun of himself.

  “It’s really a permanent condition, but we don’t like to remind you of that. Gotta have hope for a cure, you know?”

  Deacon huffed a laugh. “Cure for being an asshole. Hell, if you ever find one, let me know. This guy—” he hooked a thumb toward Alder “—has been needing a fix for a decade or so.”

  “Point that finger at yourself, son.”

  But it was Storm who took the next swing. “Alder’s kind of assholery is genetic, I’m sorry to say. There is no cure.”

  The weight of the pause that followed seemed pregnant, as if no one had expected him to say that. No one had expected him to be sarcastic.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Deacon said, grinning. “The kid’s getting feisty with us. I like it.”

  Alder frowned. “I don’t. The last thing I need is a Deacon-copy walking around busting my balls. Speaking of which—”

  “You have to go home and get your balls busted by your pretty new fiancée?”

  If looks could kill, Deacon would have been toast for that one, with Alder as the man behind the mission. “Fuck off. I need to get to work. Shouldn’t you all do the same?”

  “Definitely.” Parris, who’d been bro
ody and silent as he was wont to do, tucked his phone into his pocket and headed for the door. “You good on your own for a bit, Jinx?”

  As if. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “I’ve got her,” Deacon said, giving me a wink. “No promising you can have her back, though.”

  “She’s not mine.”

  “Only in the literal sense.” I shrugged as Storm and Deacon looked my way. “He bought me fair and square. Isn’t that right, Parris?”

  He ignored that question. “Behave. And try not to cause any trouble.”

  Again…as if. “Yes, sir.”

  Deacon waited until the door closed behind the hulking biker before asking, “You okay, Jinx?”

  The concern in his voice nearly undid me. Nearly made me open my mouth and spout truths. Lies were easier, though. And safer. “Totally. Put me to work, Church. I’m ready.”

  He held my gaze, staring hard. His face impassive and unreadable. I could play that game too, though. Could lock my emotions deep down into a place no one could use them against me and put up a front. I’d been doing it for years. I was a damn expert at it.

  Proven when Deacon nodded once, accepting my lie. “Church. I like it. Okay. Well, first, you need a better shirt…and maybe some pants. Not sure why Parris grabbed those. Aren’t you cold?”

  “I’m fine,” I said even though the cold had definitely gotten to me.

  Storm pinned me in his gaze. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  I didn’t even get a chance to answer before Deacon said, “I figured. We’ve got other clothes in the back for when accidents happen or customers have wardrobe malfunctions in the bar.”

  I couldn’t just let that go by. “People get naked here often?”

  “Often enough to need to keep a stash of clothes,” Deacon said. “There’s not a lot in terms of sweaters or long pants, but I’ll get some for you on my next trip to Rock Falls. Take what you want for now. Finn can help you find everything.”