I walked over to the table, my teeth clenched as I took a seat opposite them all and was glad when none of them commented on the redness of my eyes. I laid the papers down, unfolding them and finding emails Dad had printed detailing how Agent Mortez had manipulated him into giving him the virus samples. I read through each one, passing them to the others as I did so and when they reached Saint, he pressed them out neatly and made a pile of them in chronological order. The truth glared back at me from the words I’d read. How Mortez had gotten Dad to give him the virus and vaccine samples under the guise of protecting the country.
Saint drummed his fingers on the table as I looked at the other pages I had before me, detailing some of his work on the Hades Virus. "Did your father talk about Mortez with you?" he asked and I glanced at the others, figuring I had to lay my trust in them now. Blake's expression was dark, unreadable, like he'd retreated into his own mind.
I took a breath and relayed everything my father had told me about Mortez, how he’d said he was CIA and there had been real evidence that my father's boss had weaponised the Hades Virus and was looking to sell it on. How Dad had been offered large amounts of money to work for Mortez and gather intel on him and eventually sneak out samples. After that, he hadn't heard from him until the Hades Virus was leaked. Then Mortez had asked to meet with him and had tried to kill him.
"Do you think Mortez was really CIA?" I asked nervously. I'd killed him brutally. If the CIA came looking for him, found his body and my DNA...
"My family have covered our tracks, baby," Kyan said, evidently reading where my thoughts were headed. He hooked his foot around mine under the table and I relaxed a little. "They’re the best at what they do. It doesn’t matter who he was, he’s nothing now and there’ll be no evidence that links him to any of us."
Saint was still quiet in thought and he held out his hand for the rest of the papers.
"It's notes about the virus," I explained. "Looks like there's a login here to access his work files too. Can you get them to your father?" I felt nervous handing them over, this most precious thing that my dad had asked of me. The last thing he would ever ask of me. But after what Saint had done for me, I found it easier to place my faith in him.
"I will go through everything first and decide what the best course of action is to take," Saint said simply. And I guessed I should have realised that would be his plan. But maybe it was for the best anyway; if my dad's innocence was going to be irrefutably proven, who better to achieve that than Saint Memphis with his O.C.D. ways?
I pushed them across the table to him and our fingers grazed, a hungry pull in my belly drawing me to him.
Blake suddenly pushed out of his seat, striding from the room and a second later his bedroom door slammed so hard that the windows rattled. I gasped, pulling away from Saint and staring after him.
"What's his problem?" Monroe frowned.
"Beats me." Kyan shrugged.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Saint said, seeming exasperated with the rest of the room who were unable to keep up with him. "These notes prove the innocence of Tatum's father. Blake has been punishing her brutally for those crimes. And it turns out he was innocent just like she said all along." Saint said it with no remorse, just a conversational tone to his voice. My heart thrummed harder at his words and I glanced at Kyan who was looking at me with a furious energy burning off of him.
He stood up, leaning across the table and gripping my face in both of his hands. "I'm sorry we were wrong, but I'm not sorry you're mine. I'll never apologise for that." He released me and I leaned back in my chair with my lips parting. I didn’t know how to feel about that, only that my heart beat wildly like an untamed creature in my chest. I was hot and angry and hurt and confused.
I pushed out of my seat, looking from him to Saint with my lungs labouring. I glanced at Monroe, finding his eyes flaring with rage on my behalf and I drew on that passion in, letting it fill me up. I turned my back on them, striding away to Blake's room without a word. I may have gotten even for everything they’d put me through, but I would always just be their little possession. Did Saint really care about keeping me so much that he'd put himself in front of a car for that purpose though? Or had Kyan wet himself in blood, incriminated himself time and time again for the sake of his precious Night Bound pet? Their ownership of me bordered on obsession if that was the case, but if it wasn't that, then it meant they cared. Truly cared. And that frightened me in a way I wasn't prepared to face right now.
I knocked on the door and when Blake didn't answer, I pushed it open. I found him sitting on the end of his bed, his hands fisted in his hair as he hunched over his knees.
"Blake," I said gently, knowing the feel of the twisting, writhing creature in him that was grief. It was too familiar an enemy.
"I hurt you, I fucking brought you out to that grave I dug in the woods... I can't live with what I've done to you," he gritted out and a chill rippled through my blood.
Did I forgive him? …Yes. I did. I had sated my revenge and I'd seen the hurt in him. I'd destroyed the man who had killed my father. I could understand the hate Blake had aimed at me the day he'd stood above me with a gun in his hand. He hadn't seen an innocent girl standing in that grave, he'd seen his mother's death staring back at him and he’d wanted to avenge it.
I moved forward, pushing my hands into his black hair and forcing his own out of it, trying to make him look up until slowly, he did. I kept my hands tight in his hair and a magnetic, desperate energy twisted through the air between us.
"You already knew I wasn't responsible," I said.
"But thinking your dad was guilty helped me justify it still. If only a little," he rasped.
I lowered myself into his lap, wrapping my legs around him and brushing my lips against the corner of his mouth. "Hate is blinding."
"I never hated you," he admitted, giving in to my touch as he locked his arms around me and crushed me close. "I wanted to though, so bad that I convinced myself I did. But I don't hate you. I love you, Tate. I fucking love you. And I'd let you go if I was better, it's what you deserve. They say that's what love is. But it's not for me. My love is selfish and dirty and I will do whatever it takes to keep you right here." His mouth was suddenly on mine and I drowned in his kiss, soaking in the perfect heat of his tongue and the way the world faded around me. How everything was forgotten in that single, gleaming moment of light.
My golden boy was here with me now, the true soul that lived within this dark and monstrous exterior that had grown on him like a second skin. He was both light and dark colliding and every inch I claimed of him, it seemed more of the dark receded.
My hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt and I tugged it off of him, drowning in the feeling of his skin against mine. He undressed me slowly, dutifully, worshipping every inch of my body that he uncovered with kisses and caresses that had me panting and trembling in his arms.
When we were finally free of our clothes, our bodies slid together in this natural, perfect way and I could feel the depths of those words he’d spoken to me as he showed me how much he meant them with that act, making love to me instead of fucking me. Our souls collided and merged, and my heart swelled with that feeling of being worshipped as he built me up and up until I was seeing stars and coming apart beneath him in a galaxy of colour and heat.
He continued to kiss me long after we were done, holding me tight in his arms and promising me the world without any more words passing between us and I felt safe there in a way I’d longed to for so damn long that it hurt.
I couldn't say that I loved Blake Bowman. Maybe I did, maybe my heart was a traitor that had fallen for its tormentor. But deep down, I knew that if I fell for one of the Night Keepers, I would fall for all of them, no matter how terrifying that truth was. It meant the legend would come true. That I really was the Night Bound. They would own me in every way imaginable. I was afraid of letting that happen after everything that had happened between us. And I wasn’t sure I ever coul
d.
T he O'Brien estate was only forty miles from Everlake, so I had no real excuse for how infrequently I visited my family home aside from the fact that I fucking despised everyone who shared blood with me. So there was that.
We'd taken my black, limited edition Harley Davidson, a couple of saddle bags loaded up with clothes for a couple of days on the back of it and my girl riding pillion behind me with her arms wrapped tight around my waist. I almost could have enjoyed it if I hadn’t been dreading reaching our destination so damn much.
It was a picturesque ride down through the mountains and though it was cold, the sky was a bright and endless shade of blue, so we hadn't had to deal with much in the way of weather. The bike made it easier to travel through the city too, though with lockdown still in force, the roads were fairly clear.
We’d left at five in the morning which meant we were a lot less likely to be spotted by the cops, but Liam would have paid them all off anyway, so I wasn't really worried about getting caught breaking lockdown regulations.
We turned down the private road where my family pretty much all lived and started passing the O'Brien houses one after another. They were all huge, white monstrosities with multiple extensions, perfectly manicured lawns and ridiculously expensive cars parked on the drives. Every single one of them was trying to out do the others with their obnoxiousness and yet not a single one even came close to competing with the main estate where Liam O'Brien lived alone, lording it over all of them in his eighteen bed mansion. My darling Grandpa, head of the family and all out King Bastard, living up on top of his hill like he ruled the fucking world. And I guessed he did. At least my version of it anyway.
Of course all nine of his children were eyeing him with hopes of taking his place as the head of the family when the old fucker finally croaked it. Well, all aside from Niall who didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of interest in ruling an empire, though I was pretty sure that just made Liam more likely to select him for the role. But despite the fact that my grandpa was well into his eighties, I knew there was no way he was going to die any time soon. That said, conniving bastard that he was, he'd refused to publicly state which of his children he was naming as heir to his title as head of the family when he did up and die.
In fact, now that I was eighteen, it was technically possible that he might choose me for the position too. But I seriously doubted that. Because unlike every other adult member of this shit show they called a family, I spent absolutely none of my time trying to lick his ass and buy his favour. So there was no way in fuck he'd be picking me out of the ranks. Which was a damn good thing as far as I saw it. Maybe when he died I really would be able to cut ties with this horror show of freaks and fuck ups. The problem was that in the meantime I was clearly going to be forced to entangle myself with them as deeply as possible and I wasn’t sure what kind of man I’d be once I came out the other side of that. But that was the price I’d agreed to pay when I’d asked for their help, so there was no point in me bitching about it now.
We pulled up to the gate and I lifted the visor on my helmet as the men on duty there gave me a once over before hitting the button to open it. They were armed to the teeth and had face tats and scars to prove how badass they were. I almost snorted a laugh at how hard they were trying to look intimidating and felt zero desire to quake in my boots for them.
I rode up the drive slowly, inching closer to the estate with a heavy heart and an aching weight in my chest. This was the last place on earth that I wanted to bring Tatum. Yet somehow fate had conspired to force her here. I just hoped seeing the monsters who had made me wouldn’t change her opinion of me too much.
I parked up right outside the front doors instead of bothering to park around the side like I was supposed to and waited a moment as my girl released her grip on me and climbed off of the bike before standing myself.
I hung my helmet on the handlebars and she passed hers over for me to do the same with it.
"Once we're in there you don't leave my side, okay, baby?" I asked her in a low voice as I looked her over in the leathers she'd worn for the ride, pushing my fingers into her hair to tame some of the wild tangles she'd obtained on the way here. She looked pretty much like my ultimate wet dream right now and if I hadn’t been half expecting one of my psychotic uncles to leap out of the bushes at any moment, I’d have been damn tempted to pounce on her.
"I know, Kyan, you don't have to keep reminding me," she replied, a snarky edge to her tone.
"Yeah, I do. Because no amount of warning can prepare you for them."
I tugged her close and stole a brief kiss from those full lips of hers, aching for more but forcing myself to pull back just as quickly. This was going to be rough.
She gave me a reassuring smile and I threw an arm around her shoulders as we headed up the steps to the front door.
One of my Grandpa's butlers opened it before we could get close enough to knock and I tossed him the keys to my bike without even bothering to say hello. He caught them deftly, waiting for us to pass him before heading outside to get our bags and move the bike to the garage. He didn’t mention the fact that I’d parked it in the wrong place and that was a clever move on his part because every step I took inside this house had the ball of angry energy inside me coiling tighter, hungering for release.
The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the house alongside a spicy, Christmassy smell which I guessed had been added for the occasion by one of Liam’s house servants. Certainly not the miserable motherfucker himself. But the place would look like Santa had vomited on it even if the only reasoning behind that was that he wanted everyone to agree he could pull off the best decorations.
No one was here yet, seeing as it was so early, so I led Tatum deeper into the house, heading for the kitchen where I knew Martha would be well underway with the Christmas feast.
"This place is stupid big," Tatum murmured as we walked down the long corridor past the sweeping staircase which led to the bedrooms upstairs and I turned her towards one of the doors the servants used to move about the place unseen.
"Yeah well, it suits my Grandpa's head," I replied easily, trying not to show how fucking much I hated having her here, though I was fairly sure she could feel the tension in my posture as I held her close to my side.
We made it to the staff kitchens and I led her in, instantly spotting Martha amongst the workers who were in charge of all the cooking and smirking at her as she spotted me too.
"Coco!" she cried and I fought a cringe at that pet name. Though I supposed that this way, Tatum was meeting one person who I at least vaguely gave a shit about during this little adventure home.
I tugged Tatum over to her then we all had a moment of awkward pausing as we hit the invisible sex foot marker and realised that we should be keeping our distance from the point of view of the damn virus. Not that I really thought any of the staff here were at risk of having it. I knew full well that Liam had banned any of them from leaving the estate since the Hades Virus had broken out, but I still didn't want to take any unnecessary risks with my girl.
"Who's the pretty little thing?" Martha asked, giving Tatum a once over as I let my hand slip from her shoulders down to her waist and tugged her closer.
"This is Tate, she's mine," I explained because as much as I'd wanted to hide Tatum from the prying eyes of my family, it was clear that they'd already figured out that she was important. So my only choice here was to stake my claim and keep her close to me to warn all of them away from her. If they sensed any kinds of cracks between us, they'd try and worm their way in to force us apart and then use her to hurt me in whatever way they could as a part of the power games they were constantly playing. "This is Martha. The only decent person in this shit pit," I added for Tatum's benefit.
"Nice to meet you," Tatum offered as Martha cooed.
"You too. Never thought I'd live to see the day Coco fell in love."
"Don't call me that," I said with about as much bite as I could muster for
the cook who had actually seen me as a person instead of a commodity. I chose to ignore the love comment, but the curious way that Tatum was looking at me had me hiding a smirk with a thumb pressed to the corner of my lips.
"Why do you call him Coco?" Tatum asked, ignoring me as I growled to warn her off.
"Because he was always obsessed with chocolate as a boy. Used to sneak down here and pinch some every opportunity he got. He even used to trick me into making chocolate cake and then steal the bowl full of batter to lick it clean."
"That was one time," I groaned as Tatum smirked in amusement.
"I still have the pictures somewhere," Martha pressed, ignoring my pissy tone. "You two go and make yourselves comfortable in the smoking parlour and I'll whip you up some breakfast. With a bit of luck, I'll remember where I put them while I'm cooking."
I cursed her half-heartedly and tugged on Tatum's waist to get her moving again as she gave Martha a smile.
We headed out of the kitchens and down a long hall and I couldn't help but lean back to appreciate Tatum's ass in her bike leathers. Saint might have been one crazy motherfucker, but he knew how to buy our girl clothes alright. And as much as I was sure he hated the idea of her wearing these leathers, he’d done a damn good job of picking a set that looked hot as fuck on her.
"Stop staring at my ass," she teased as I blatantly checked her out and I chuckled darkly as I directed her into the smoking room.
"Or what, baby?" I taunted.
"Or I'll spank you," she threatened, her blue eyes flashing with the threat as she looked up at me and my heart leapt at the challenge in her tone.
"Oh no, baby. That's not how our power play is going to work out. I might be a slave to your desires now, but if one of us is going to be spanking the other then it'll definitely be me slapping that perfect ass of yours. And don't you forget that I've got you all to myself tonight too."
Kings of Anarchy Page 5