Knuckle Down

by Chantal Fernando

  I go quiet and she frowns.

  “You haven’t told him you’re writing an article based on his private life and family? Good information or not, that’s quite a personal thing to do, Celina. You need to be careful here. I wouldn’t publish anything without getting his approval.”

  I pick up my glass and down the rest of my drink.

  She’s right, of course.

  If I haven’t even mentioned it to him, deep down I must know he’s going to hate the idea and get angry about it. This isn’t how I want my relationship to go.

  “You’re right,” I tell her. “I needed to hear you say this.”

  “You came to the right place,” she says, clinking her glass against mine. “I am wise beyond my years.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, too far, buddy.”

  We share a smile.

  No to article on the MC.

  Yes to more wine.

  “Never did I think I’d be back here,” I say as we enter the clubhouse. After an hour-long chat with Akeira, Knuckles picked me up, in a car this time. He insisted on bringing me back here for some reason, instead of the two of us going back to my place.

  “I knew you would,” he says, ducking his head. Flashbacks hit me as we walk through their large living area, and I remember Rogue singing.

  “What do we have here?” Erin’s dad, and Knuckles’s president, says as he walks into the hallway. Gage Parker is a good-looking man, especially for his age, and he’s also one who commands the room.

  “You remember Celina, Prez?”

  Gage nods. “Of course, Erin talks about her nonstop. Nice to see you again, Celina.”

  “You too . . .”

  I trail off when I realize I have no idea what to call him. He’s not my president, so I can’t call him that, yet calling him Gage sounds too personal. “I have no idea how you want me to address you.”

  Blue eyes fill with humor. “Gage works fine.”

  “Gage it is,” I say, feeling the heat rising up my neck. “Is Erin around?”

  “She’s here somewhere,” he replies, smiling, then claps Knuckles on his back. “I hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”

  He glances down at me. “I do.”

  Gage nods and disappears, and we continue down the hallway until we stop at the last door. He pulls out a key and unlocks the door, then gestures for me to go in first. “Welcome to my home.”

  Amused, I step inside and look around. He has a huge bed with a black headboard against the right wall, and on the other wall an epic gaming setup, everything mounted up high. “Now that is fancy.”

  “The girls like to come here and game with me now and again,” he explains, removing his biker boots and placing them neatly in the corner.

  “I’m sure it’s for the girls,” I tease, moving to sit down on his black-and-blue bedsheets. I notice that he seems to like skulls a lot, with real skulls used as decoration, and a skull picture on the wall. He also has a few framed pictures of him and his daughters, one with another woman in it, who I assume is Flora, his baby mama.

  “So you’re into hunting, gaming, and photography,” I conclude, still taking in every detail of his room. “You like black, leather, and skulls. Meanwhile the thought of killing a living animal myself makes me want to cry, my favorite color is white, and I’ve never gamed in my life.”

  “Opposites attract,” he murmurs, sitting down next to me on the bed.

  I believe that opposites attract, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they stay together. . . .

  15

  Knuckles puts on a movie, and the two of us strip down and get into bed, cuddling naked, my head on his chest as he runs his fingers through my hair.

  “I like your friend; she’s hilarious,” he says to me. “The two of you together are fuckin’ crazy; I could watch the back-and-forth all night.”

  I smile against his bare skin. “I know. We’re like an old married couple sometimes.”

  “You’re lucky to have a friend who cares about you so much.”

  “I know. And you’re lucky too, you have a whole group of them,” I remind him, yawning.

  “That’s true, all I need now is a good woman by my side,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Want to apply for the position?”

  “Who says I’m a good woman?” I ask, running my fingers down his abs, tracing the deep ridges.

  “My gut instinct, my life experience, and everything inside of me.”

  That shuts me up.

  He gently rolls me onto my back, kisses me softly, pulling my bottom lip down a little with his thumb, in a sweet, tender move, getting more access to my mouth. He cups my nape, lifting me closer to him as his mouth softly teases mine. When he starts to move down my body, I know exactly what he’s going to do, and as badly as I want his mouth on me, I want to taste him too. He didn’t let me last time, but now it’s my turn. I sit up and slide off the bed, leaving him with a boyishly cute, confused expression. I grin and slide down onto my knees on the gray carpet, flashing him a seductive look.

  “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now,” he grits out, licking his lips and moving so he’s kneeling on the bed, his hard cock only a few inches away from my face. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful, like a temptress. How did I get so lucky?”

  How does he go from egotistical and cocky one second to almost adoring the next?

  “You invited yourself over to my house, that’s how,” I joke, reaching out and stroking his cock, loving the feel of him. I lean forward and run my tongue over the tip of him, circling it around and then popping it into my mouth and out again. I back away a little, and start to kiss his inner thighs, gently stroking his balls. I move to the base of him, kissing, licking, and sucking, all the way back to the head, before taking as much as I can of him into my mouth and sucking deeply.

  He makes that primal growling sound that I heard him make last time, and it eggs me on even more, until I’m sucking him so deep that my gag reflex kicks in and I have to back off a little.

  “So good,” he rumbles, stroking the back of my head with his palm, encouraging me.

  Cheeks hollow, hands on each of his thighs, I keep bobbing my head and putting my all into his pleasure. I want him to come, and even though I like the whole take-charge thing he has going on, I want to show him that he has to let me play too.

  “That’s it, Celina,” he whispers, moaning louder.

  I suck harder, keeping the suction just right until he goes over the edge, his whole body trembling.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Celina,” he groans, lifting me up and on top of him as he lies back against the sheets. “You’re also talented in other areas, I’m not surprised.”

  He rolls me over, and lowers himself down my body. “And now you get your reward. I’ve been dying to have my mouth on you again since it left you last time. I think I’m getting addicted to your taste.”

  A loud bang on the door has me sitting up real quick.

  “Knuckles, we have a bit of an issue,” a man says, and I think it’s Ace but I can’t be sure.

  “This better be a level-fuckin’-ten problem,” Knuckles calls back in a tone I never want to hear him use on me, and starts to throw his jeans on, no underwear. He doesn’t bother putting on a shirt, either.

  “Give me a second, okay, I’ll go and see what they want. Bathroom is there.” He points to a door opposite the bed. “And there’s a mini fridge next to the bed with food and snacks if you get hungry.”

  He leans down and gives me a short but deep kiss, then leaves, calling out, “The place better be on motherfuckin’ fire,” as he shuts the door behind him.

  I quickly get dressed, just in case something is going down and I need to run out of here or someone else decides to drop by. Rogue has already seen me naked—I don’t need any of the other men to see me either. Sitting back on the bed, I listen for any clues as to what’s going on, but I hear nothing. Curious, I open the door and peep out. With the coast clear, I step out and he
ad back to where we entered. On a couch in the lounge sits a young-looking girl, maybe twenty or so, and she’s crying. None of the men are around, so I rush over and kneel down in front of her, touching her shoulder.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask in a gentle tone.

  She lifts her head, mascara smudged over her brown eyes. “No, I don’t think I am.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask her. Something doesn’t feel right, why is she sitting here alone? Who is she with? Where did Knuckles disappear to? Is this girl the “issue” that needed tending to?

  When she doesn’t respond, I try again. “My name is Celina, what’s yours?”

  “Katie,” she replies, rubbing her eyes. “I have nowhere else to go, so he brought me here.”

  “Who is he?” I ask, just as I hear the police sirens.

  Fuck.

  What the hell is going on? Why are the cops here?

  “Knuckles!” I call out, not knowing what else to do. If I walk outside, what will the police do?

  Lucky for me, Knuckles, Ace, and Gage appear and surround me.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I ask them all, then glance down at the young woman, who is staring straight ahead with a blank look on her face.

  Knuckles grabs my arm and pulls me by my side. “Fuck, the one night shit like this happens has to be the night I bring you here.”

  I’ve worked with many of the police in this city before, and I wonder if I’ll be able to help this situation in any way, but I doubt it. Besides, I don’t even know what’s going on.

  “Where’s Erin?” I demand to know, looking to Ace. “Where is my baby cousin?”

  “She’s not here,” Ace assures me, looking me in the eye. “She’s safe.”

  “He wants to hand himself in, which might be the best idea,” Knuckles says to Gage. “Or they come in here and raid the place with us all inside, which they might do anyway. We’re fucked.”

  “All of you come out with your hands up!” an officer calls out through a speakerphone.

  “Who has to hand themselves in?” I ask the group, panic filling me. “Who did what?”

  This can’t be happening right now. What am I supposed to do? How are we going to get out of this one?

  I haven’t done anything wrong, I tell myself over and over again. I can’t get into any trouble. The only crime I’ve committed is having a thing for a bad boy.

  Rogue enters the room, an ashen look on his face. “We’re fucked.”

  “Where is he?” Knuckles asks, hand tightening on my arm. “We can try to get him out the back way, through the open land. Higher risk of them shooting him down there though. And we need to decide, now!”

  Shooting him down? What the fuck kind of situation did I get myself in?

  “Fucking hell,” I whisper, the reality of the situation hitting me.

  There are police outside.

  Police.

  And they’re going to come in here with guns. Are they going to point at me? Are they going to shoot first and ask questions later?

  Fuck.

  Cops don’t like bikers.

  And I’m guilty by association.

  “No, I’m going to hand myself in,” Shovel says, approaching all of us. “If I run and they catch me, I’m fucked. This way I might get no jail time, or a shorter sentence. Call a lawyer. Try Jaxon Bentley or Tristan Channing.” He looks down at the girl, and says, “And look after her.”

  “Shovel,” Rogue calls out, voice full of emotion, but it’s too late, Shovel walks outside with his hands up. A few minutes later, the police all barge inside, and we’re all told to lay down on the floor with our hands behind our backs. I’ve never been so scared and humiliated in all my life. Knuckles keeps looking over at me, I can feel his gaze.

  “Let her go,” he tells the cop who has a hold of him. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. This is the first time she’s even been here.”

  “Well, maybe she will make better life decisions next time,” the cop replies, unamused. “She can tell her story down at the station, with the rest of you.”

  Better life decisions?

  One would hope so.

  One by one, we’re handcuffed and sent to the station for questioning while the cops search the clubhouse.

  I don’t know anything about what Shovel did, in fact I only met the man that one time, at Erin’s birthday, and I don’t think even she is close to him. Rogue obviously is though, because he looks devastated and like he wants to kill someone.

  Knuckles gets put in a different police wagon than I do, but he flashes me an apologetic glance and mouths the words, “I’m so sorry.”

  He even blows me a kiss.

  If this is modern romance, I’m so fucking done with the dating world.

  This is not how I expected tonight to go.

  I didn’t even get to come.

  “What were you doing in the clubhouse, Ms. Hutton? You’re a local journalist, are you not? It seems a little unusual that you were there in the first place,” the officer asks me, disapproval written all over his face. I don’t know this officer, and maybe that’s why they sent him in the first place, but I really don’t want to answer his questions. What am I meant to say, that I just started dating one of them? Is dating the right word?

  Great, now I have to give this thing with Knuckles a fucking label.

  “How do you know I wasn’t working on a story?” When the officer just continues to glare at me, I sigh. “I was there visiting a friend.”

  Technically the truth. I’m not scared right now, because I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not going to be intimidated into feeling like I have. Sure, I probably haven’t made excellent decisions, I was there sucking the MC’s sergeant of arms’s dick after all, but besides my choice in men, which luckily for me isn’t illegal, I’m completely innocent.

  “And how do you know the MC?” he asks, writing all of this down, probably to throw in my face later. “I’m sure you’re aware that you’re associating yourself with criminals, Ms. Hutton. Are your employers aware of this?”

  Seriously? Did he just threaten my job? I think of the best way to answer this question, one that won’t bite me in the ass later.

  “I’m personally unaware of any criminal activity, Officer Keeton. I simply have a friendship with them, and I’m a law-abiding and contributing citizen to this city,” I say, lifting my chin. “It’s unfortunate something happened tonight, but I’m unaware of the specifications of that. Will I need to be contacting my lawyer? Perhaps I should have one present before answering any more questions.”

  I wonder what Faye Black is doing right now, and whether she’d come and bail me out of any more questioning. She’s not my lawyer, but I’ve met her a few times for an interview. Just the mention of her name is usually a saving grace, because no one wants to deal with her. Or, like Shovel suggested, any of the attorneys from the Bentley and Channing law firm would also suffice. They’re known for never losing, and are worth every cent of the high price you have to pay them.

  “Why would you need a lawyer if you claim to not have done anything wrong?” the officer asks me, making my eye twitch.

  “Because I’m still sitting here,” I reply to him, keeping my tone as calm and even as possible. “And I’d rather be at home, Officer, as much as I’m enjoying this lovely chat with you.”

  “Being a smart-ass isn’t going to help you, Ms. Hutton.”

  “Being honest isn’t helping me either. Are you going to charge me? ’Cause if you are, I’d like to make a phone call. And I won’t be making any further comments until my lawyer gets here.” I had enough of this back-and-forth.

  “Be a shame if this leaked to the media,” he replies, licking his finger to turn the page on his notepad. “I can see the headline now.”

  “Be a shame if someone wrote an article on police threatening an innocent woman and forbidding her from exercising her constitutional right to have a lawyer present. Maybe I should ask my boss to look into
one of the police corruption claims we receive on the regular,” I say with a fake smile. “We can both play this game, Officer, but you and I both know I haven’t done anything wrong. Either let me go, or get me my lawyer.”

  He leaves the room, and I slump down onto the desk.

  Knuckles better hope he doesn’t see me right now, because I am not in a good fucking mood.

  16

  I’m let go about thirty minutes later, and I’m dead tired, still in my work clothes from this morning, and all I want is a hot shower and my bed. As I step outside the police station, I realize that I have no way of getting home, I don’t even have my bag—which was in Knuckles’s bedroom—to call a cab or an Uber, and no way of paying for one anyway.

  Basically, I’m fucked.

  I have no idea where the men are, but I’d think that most likely they’re still being held and questioned. I have no idea what happened to Katie either.

  Fuck.

  When I realize I have some cash stashed at home, I walk to the main road and hail a cab. Luckily I keep a hidden spare key outside the front of my house, otherwise I’d have no way to get in, because my keys are in my bag too.

  What a night.

  I can easily say that I’ve never been taken in or questioned before, but it wasn’t on my bucket list, so there’s no cause for celebration. I hope Knuckles is okay, surely they won’t be able to keep them for much longer, unless there’s evidence against all of them instead of just Shovel.

  What a clusterfuck.

  And where the hell is Erin?

  I’m going to kill her when I see her.

  My reason for trying to resist Knuckles was self-preservation.

  To guard my heart.

  I didn’t want to be vulnerable, and I didn’t want to lose control over my emotions.

  But this is what should have been the reason. This would have never happened to me if I wasn’t seeing him. Being with a man like Knuckles comes with a risk.

  A huge one.