Knight

by Lana Grayson

  “No, that gives me reason to make sure Temple MC hasn’t slit your throat or sold your pussy to some lowball bidder. Don’t pull that goddamned attitude with me. I’m trying to save your pretty little ass.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  He pointed to the window. “And ATF outside? You’re under surveillance.”

  “Better me than Anathema. At least I keep my business clean.”

  Luke’s mouth set in a hard line. “They’re after Anathema?”

  “Probably.”

  “They mention The Coup?”

  “You know…” I poured another shot. “We didn’t really discuss specifics. She was too busy threatening Sorceress and laying out a case in which I’m an accessory to half a dozen different crimes.”

  “Lyn—”

  I silenced him, taking Agent Greene’s card from my purse. I tossed it to him. “I can always call and see if she wants me to rat on The Coup too.”

  “Jesus fuck, Lyn. Does Thorne know?”

  “It’s none of Thorne’s business.”

  “They’re threatening you and Anathema.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can take care of this myself.”

  “Can you?”

  Sure, if I could manage to stay alive until I thought of the appropriate way to tell ATF to fuck off without getting arrested.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t need rescuing.” I pointed to the door. “And I’m sending you the bill if you broke my lock.”

  “Be glad it’s not your legs.”

  “You gonna do it yourself?”

  “I won’t have time. Temple will do it for me.”

  He didn’t threaten well, but he never had a reason for it. The Coup existed alongside Anathema even after their usurper president was killed—and it was Luke’s name and reputation that prevented total anarchy. Not many people were foolish enough to challenge him.

  “I came to apologize.” Luke’s eyes drifted down, clearly amused by my plush, pink terrycloth robe. I doubted he was sorry for catching me in the shower. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I’ve spent all last night and today trying to reach you, and I panicked. I thought something happened.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “And the shit that went down with Temple—”

  “Was your fault.” I arched an eyebrow. “But I don’t accept apologies. I deal in favors. So far you owe me two.” I offered him the same amusing glance he gave my robe. “Not the position you want to be in with me.”

  “I can think of a better one.”

  “Only if I owed you the favor.” If only. “And I don’t make a habit of being indebted to others.”

  “Make a habit of suffering for them?”

  “Even less likely. You don’t want to know which end of the flogger I’m holding.”

  “I know damn well,” he said. “And I know the damage you can do.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  Luke exhaled. “I need some help.”

  “And there it is.” I needed a stronger drink. “Either I’m just some ten dollar stripper who needs to mind her own business or I’m a goddamned muse to your MC. Somehow I doubt you’re looking for a show tonight.”

  “You know what I want.”

  Yeah, I did. Because I wanted him too. I had known for years what he was after. He got it too—closer than anyone else ever did.

  But that was over. Nothing about our history afforded his cock or his grand plans any consideration beyond how much it would cost me.

  “You have a lot of nerve asking me for help,” I said.

  “Temple grabbed you for a reason. They thought you knew something about Blade Darnell.”

  I poured another drink. I already buzzed from the shower, fatigue, and his scent. Last thing I needed was the alcohol and stress leading to any spilled secrets.

  “And?” I asked.

  “Do you know something?”

  I gripped the shot glass. “Yeah. Blade Darnell was an asshole. A sexual deviant who didn’t deserve to live after hurting his daughter the way he did. I don’t know what happened to him, and I don’t care. He’s in hell where he belongs, and he won’t hurt Rose again.”

  Luke tensed, that streak of righteousness stiffening his spine. “You think I liked working with Temple to get that pervert out of jail?”

  “You knew what he did.”

  “Yeah. I saw the pictures of Rose as a kid. I knew how fucked up he was.” He exhaled. “But he was necessary to Anathema and The Coup. He was the only goddamned reason Temple hadn’t tried to roll over the Valley. We needed him to negotiate and make good with them, and now he’s dead.”

  I didn’t react. Luke held my gaze, fierce and raging and entirely too familiar.

  “They’re blaming me, Lyn. You gotta know something.”

  “Why would I know anything?”

  “Because you know everything in this damn town with these fucking clubs. Your girls don’t talk with a mouthful of cock, but the men they’re sucking off sure do.”

  I frowned. “You keep insinuating my girls are whores, and you won’t get any help from me.”

  “I’ll take whatever help you can give me. I’ll owe you more favors. As many as you want.”

  It wouldn’t be help. It’d be suicide. I knew everything—where and why and how Blade died, but a girl wouldn’t survive on favors alone.

  If revealed, Blade’s death would tear Anathema apart, especially if they realized Brew was still alive and soaked his palms in his daddy’s blood. Avenging Rose for her childhood abuse might have ended one tragedy, but revenge caused more problems.

  In this case, more bloodshed.

  “You didn’t kill Blade,” I said.

  “Well, that’s a goddamned relief.”

  “And I know if you stay in this city, you’re going to die.”

  “That so?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for games. I shivered, still wet and soapy from the shower. “Temple’s not going to fuck with me, especially if they’re as observant as you and find ATF trailing me from work to home.”

  Luke swore, quietly. Neither MC had room for gentlemen, but Luke chose to be reserved if only to stay in my good graces.

  However slim they were.

  “But you don’t have any protection,” I said. “You need to get the hell out of the Valley before Temple decides to avenge Blade.”

  “I can’t leave.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “And they won’t catch me.”

  I spoke to a dead man. “You can’t deal with this on your own. We probably killed three of their men when we escaped. If Temple isn’t looking for you yet, it’s only because they’re waiting for the mother chapter to ride down.”

  “We have bigger problems than Temple.”

  “Don’t we always?” Sarcasm felt better when I traded barbs with Thorne. Luke was too serious, too goddamned valiant to accept the end when it blasted a bullet in his head. “Luke, don’t be a hero. Just leave before something bad happens.”

  “And the instant I leave the Valley, Priest and half of The Coup rise up and make a new war with Anathema. Who the hell knows how many people would die. Good people. Innocent people.” He called my name when I looked away. “Priest won’t care if he mows down half of your dancers to kill one of Anathema’s men. He sure as hell won’t take careful aim if Rose is with Thorne.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. Never did when Luke was right.

  “I’m the only one keeping The Coup together,” he said. “If I leave, there will be another war, and I’m not going to be responsible for that blood. Not again.”

  Not when he was the cause of so much of it before.

  Not when he hadn’t earned forgiveness for the lives he wasted and the blood he spilled and how goddamned stupid it was tearing the club apart in the first place.

  “And if Temple kills you, The Coup loses control anyway.” I crossed my arms, but the robe billowed around me, losing most of my motion in the fluffy, ridicu
lous cotton-candy puff.

  “I can duck Temple for a while. I have an edge on them.”

  Not what I wanted to hear. “An edge?”

  “I have a listing of Temple’s known warehouses, preferred routes, aliases, trucking schedules, everything. All things that can keep me one step ahead of them.”

  “What fairy godmother gave you that?”

  He smirked. I hated how much I liked that smile.

  “Just a friend,” he said.

  “You don’t have those anymore.”

  “I have associates then. Mutual trust.”

  “They’re fools if they trust you.”

  Luke crossed his arms. The tight muscles flexed. “The men in my core are loyal. They can and will take a bullet for me, and vice versa.”

  “Don’t be so naïve,” I said. “Or you’ll get that razor blade in your candy apple this Halloween.”

  Now I did need another drink. He followed, hovering a little too close, lowering his voice into a whisper that reserved too much hope for my response.

  “What the hell happened to us?” He made no apologies for his words. “We used to be—”

  “Nothing.”

  I spun to face him, revealing most of my leg. Didn’t matter. He could look, just like the others, but he long since ruined any chance to touch.

  “There was never anything between us.” I swallowed. “There never was an us.”

  “Might have been.”

  “If wishes were dollar bills, Sorceress would have gold stitched curtains on stage.”

  Luke didn’t flinch. “You never gave me a chance.”

  One step too far. “When would have been a good chance? You tore Anathema apart, Luke. You cause the civil war. You caused the misery. When were you planning on making a move? Between bursts of gunfire? Did you plan to take me to dinner after the funerals?”

  “Christ, Lyn.”

  “We didn’t have time for chances after you chose anarchy over the club, and it’s done now.”

  “Doesn’t have to be.”

  This was too much, too quick. Luke hadn’t backed off, and I was running out of places in the living room to shiver.

  The bedroom was much warmer, much more welcoming, but not for him.

  Not now.

  I pushed him away, pretending only to poke his chest instead of touching the hardened, tensed abs waiting beneath his t-shirt. He retreated as I pushed, only because my robe parted. The V of my cleavage promised him one last look at the goods that would never belong to him.

  “I respect you.” It was a fair admission. “You’re the only one in this damn city with a decent head on his shoulders. But it doesn’t do anyone any good now that you keep across the river and wear this...”

  My hand flattened against the president’s patch. A mistake. He covered my fingers with his palm, pushing my hand harder against his chest.

  His heart beat just as quick as mine.

  And all I remembered was the last time we were so close. In the dark. In the quiet. The music dulled, the lights dimmed, and the dance was more for me than him.

  I gave myself to him.

  The breathless whisper as he entered me. The shudder of promised pleasure when we moved.

  He was the only man I ever let touch me in my own club, and had his phone not buzzed, had the war not started the instant he sheathed himself in me?

  I never would have let him go.

  “You made your decision,” I said. “You caused this civil war, and we’re all suffering because of you.”

  “I did what I thought was right.”

  He was too close to me. I managed an entire year without trapping myself within his striking gaze, but every second he bared his soul rendered me more vulnerable to him than if the robe had slipped from my shoulders.

  I didn’t want this.

  I didn’t move my hand from his chest.

  “I never planned to split the club,” he said. “I wanted to protect it. I saw this conflict with Temple coming, and I tried to prevent it.”

  “Still think it was the right choice?”

  “You think I like having those deaths on my head? That bloodshed? That I like living in squalor and watching over my shoulder every day? I expect a knife in the back at any minute. Now the only mystery is who will twist the blade.”

  “You made that bed.”

  “And now there’s no one to share it.”

  “You’re damn right.”

  “I want to keep you safe.”

  I tugged my hand back and retreated to the entry, hoping he’d take the hint.

  He didn’t.

  He edged me close to the wall. I had been cornered before, but no man had ever managed to pin me. Wasn’t happening now. Wasn’t happening ever.

  I licked my lips. He stared at mine as hungrily as I stared at his. “It’s not your place to keep me safe.”

  “It can be if you want. I’ll shield you from Temple. From ATF.”

  “Only if you had an Anathema patch on that cut.”

  “They can’t watch over you.”

  “Neither can you.”

  “Bullshit.” Luke’s voice roughened, hard and honest. “I’d do anything for you, Lyn. Fucking anything. Anything you needed. Anything you wanted.”

  I believed him. I had no reason not to imagine the life he offered, the touches he promised, and the happiness he could create. But his fingers caressed the bruises on my cheek. Those black and blue marks were every reason to not accept a single fairy tale he wove.

  “I don’t want anything from you, Luke. Not now, not ever.”

  He didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe myself.

  He pushed me into the wall. I prepared to fight, but his kiss was better than magic, hotter than flame, and more addicting than the drugs I banned from my club. I gripped his arms to push him away. It only opened me to more of his touch.

  His body angled against mine, his leg opening the robe—more conquering bandit than noble hero. I shivered as the cool air brushed my skin. The leather of his cut pressed against my breasts.

  Felt that a lot at Sorceress, but I hadn’t with him.

  Not for so long. Not since the last time he touched me, kissed me, started to fuck me…

  His tongue flicked over mine. Too many memories. I pulled him close, delighting in the rough press of his lips. His fingers curled over my hips. The robe threatened to fall.

  I couldn’t.

  I wasn’t the one who made bad decisions—he was. I didn’t have the cut or the gang to watch my ass when I made a mistake. Despite his promises, I was on my own, and I had been since he pulled the trigger and started the war.

  I pushed him away, gasping for breath as his touched shuddered too deep in my core. I pointed to the door. He didn’t move.

  He tensed, ragged, suffering the same frustration and wanting that nearly crippled me. I groped to the door, flinging it open.

  “Why?” His voice warmed everything beneath my robe. “Why the hell won’t you admit there’s something between us?”

  My fingers tightened on the door, squeezing white enough Luke could see my hesitance.

  “Because, unlike you?” My whisper hurt more than pushing him away. “I have a sense of loyalty.”

  Wednesday Night – 11 PM

  Washington and Fifth, heading South on the 9.

  Full squad – full night run – stay clear

  I wasn’t used to getting unmarked messages left in my door, and I knew better than to let the unlabeled boxes near.

  Whoever sent the letter was as much a mystery as the contents.

  The implications caught my attention. Gnawed at me until every nerve was exposed, raw and tight. It sounded like a warning. It also read like an invitation.

  One problem multiplied, and every explanation left a bad taste in my mouth—copper and tangy.

  I burned the letter as soon as I read it. I memorized the words, coincidentally penned without the courtesy of a name. Then again, they hadn’t dropped a grenad
e in the box with the letter, so I took it as a good sign.

  Anathema was doing a run—a job with their best men. They’d be armed, dangerous, and looking for trouble.

  Whoever sent it might have meant to keep my men out of their way. Prevent violence. Everyone would make it to their beds that night with whatever gash they were lucky enough to hump.

  Or it might have been an opening. The club would be exposed, their members riding outside of their territory. Anathema’s wares and bikes were unprotected. Women without their muscle. A stash ripe for the picking. We were still reeling from Anathema’s last attack, when they pinned us down and stole our load of muled electronics. They lured us into the shootout and left my men to act as decoys for the damned police.

  It might have been a great time to get some of our money back…unless the message was a trap.

  Moving on a fully protected Pixie wouldn’t leave much meat in the street for the coroner to catalog.

  I poured a drink over the note. Not even alcohol cleared it up.

  Maybe the message came from some jaded motherfucker who’d had enough of Thorne’s shit and decided the grass was greener. Hated to tell him, but unless we were smoking it, ain’t no way The Coup looked better than Anathema.

  “Fuck me.” I rubbed my eyes. This wasn’t a riddle. The message was part of a puzzle blown to shit by men with more guns than brains. I couldn’t trust it until I verified it.

  But I wasn’t risking my men. The only ass I’d endanger was mine. And, if I was lucky, I wouldn’t have to drag it back to bed.

  A man could only spend so many nights with his cock in hand and regret as an afterglow. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway. The truck hadn’t moved from outside Lyn’s apartment, but plenty of bikes drove by. Some ours. Some Anathema’s.

  Some Temple’s.

  I had to sort shit out with Anathema. It was the only way the woman who refused my help would finally accept it. Just offering my protection insulted her.

  Too goddamned bad.

  Lyn was one-of-a-kind, probably for the benefit of all of humanity. But that attitude attracted every low-life, dangerous, scum-bag to her doorstep. That included me, but at least she aimed her heels away from my balls.

  For now.

  It was the only thing I could ask short of her dropping to her knees and giving them the TLC they craved. I had been hard for her since the first time I watched her shimmy around a pole, and I fell in love the instant she introduced herself.