by Lana Grayson
“I thought you didn’t want to get in the middle?”
“I don’t seem to have a choice, do I? But if you want to have a conversation with Thorne without getting killed, convince me first and I might help.”
Christ. She was right. She was a better ally than bait, but I didn’t feel good about it.
“I never thought Brew would get labeled a traitor,” I said. “Didn’t think Thorne would actually kill him.”
Rose tensed. “Neither did Brew.”
“I wasn’t expecting Blade to die too.”
“You don’t expect me to mourn?”
No one would, especially if they saw the same pictures from her childhood as I did. “Temple wants me dead because they think I killed Blade, but The Coup knows it’s bullshit. Priest is moving on Anathema. He says he wants to find the real killer. But that’s not it. They want to fight.”
“So you’re…what? Protecting Anathema?”
I didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Temple won’t stop with my death. The only way we survive them is if we band together.” I paused. “I’m trying to reunite Anathema and The Coup.”
“Oh my god.”
“I can’t risk Priest finding out. If his guys realize I went to Anathema willingly, they’ll start a massacre, even if Temple’s lurking in the shadows.”
Rose paled, every freckle sticking out. “What do you really want with me?”
“You’re my decoy,” I said. “You’re the reason I can talk to Thorne without raising suspicion.”
She held her head in her hands. “Jesus, Luke.”
“You’re not gonna get hurt. I’ll get you there in one piece. Then we’ll find a way to protect the Valley from the club who was always coming, no matter what bullshit deals me or Blade made.”
Rose dropped her books into her bag. Her words escaped before she could harden them into accusation. Instead, she seemed genuinely curious.
“Why the hell did you betray Anathema in the first place?”
Good fucking question. I sat on the bed and counted my mistakes. “Who the hell knows anymore? The club wasn’t focused on the future. Smuggling cigs and exhorting the fuck out of Lyn wasn’t going to protect us.”
“From what?”
From the same demons we fought now. “From bigger clubs. From each other. I didn’t want to start a fucking war. I got the gun pulled on me, and I defended myself. The split happened after that. I didn’t cause it. I just separated the cracks.”
“You think you can bring us together?”
It would have been easier if my theory was correct and she was the one sending me the messages from inside Anathema. But she wasn’t involved. That was probably for the best. She was fucked enough because she was Anathema’s queen, but she wasn’t in as much trouble as the club’s princess, twirling around stripper poles and stomping on all the blue balls she could conjure.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What happens if you don’t succeed?”
A lot of things. None of it painless. “If I’m about to die, I’d rather owe my life to the man getting his revenge than the monster waiting in the shadows.”
Her eyes widened. “Glad you’re so optimistic.”
“Brew said that. If it was a good enough motto for him, it’ll work for me.”
I claimed the other bed and put in a call to Grim about the meeting. Priest would be pissed he didn’t get to hurt the girl, but I cock-blocked that pervert at any opportunity.
I wasn’t gonna sleep, not with a walking, talking liability strutting around the hotel room. Rose kicked the comforter down and nestled in the sheets. I kept guard.
At least she was safe. I owed that much to Brew.
By four AM, I ran out of PG movies to watch on the TV. The coffee pot in the bathroom trickled only hot, brown water, but I could pretend it was decent. I downed half the pot if only to wake myself up. I was hungry, and Rose would need something to eat. The vending machine was enough for now.
The flash from the window caught my attention. The headlights cruised by once.
Then twice.
Thorne was good, but there was no way he found us that quick.
The shots crashed against the siding before blasting through the window.
“Rose!”
Either instinct or experience guided Rose. She screamed as she dropped to the ground. I dove to her side, hauling her into my arms as I kicked the mattress off the bed for shelter.
It did nothing.
The stuffing and springs immediately shredded. The automatic weapon fire blasted the window, ripping through the curtains and punching through the motel’s shitty paper walls.
Rose shrieked, but I slammed a hand over her mouth. Temple wasn’t just outside. The gunfire stopped, but the real danger stormed through the halls. Men kicked opened doors in the hallway with a profanity and burst of gunfire.
Our door splintered under a launching kick. The dresser delayed them, but we were stilled fucked.
I pushed Rose to the window and ripped the tattered curtains from the rod. The glass shattered. Not enough. I covered my fist with the comforter and punched out the bigger pieces. It’d have to do. Not like she hadn’t bled before.
I padded the comforter in the window and shoved Rose over the sill.
She bolted.
I lunged after her, tearing my jeans on a shard of glass. The cut stung, but Rose sprinted through the parking lot. I tore after her, realizing too late she wasn’t trying to escape.
The little bitch was going to steal my bike again.
Our shadows led Temple into the alley, but Rose was already on my motorcycle. I jumped into the seat. She wasn’t so terrified of packing now.
“Go, go, go!” She tucked against me. “Take seventh! It’ll take you through the city!”
Back-seat-fucking-driver. I started the bike and jammed the throttle, bursting from the alley in a rumble that’d fuck us over for two blocks. Rose clung to me, peeking behind us as the answering thunder of bikes heralded their charge.
“How many?” I shouted.
“Two—three!”
Fuck. “How far?”
The gunfire answered for her. Entirely too fucking close, especially now that she was exposed and vulnerable to the guns aiming for me.
“Luke! Another!”
She pointed ahead. I took a hard right, but she forgot to lean. The bike wavered and wobbled, letting the asshole gain on us.
She hunched against me, but I could do nothing to protect her while four of Temple’s men shredded the road and stalked in the shadows after us. Another right and then a quick left. She squeezed my shoulders.
“Take Washington!”
Christ, that was the widest street and main thoroughfare in the city. Did she want to get us killed?
But my bike was fast enough to burst the wrong way up a one way street and dump us on the boulevard. Temple slowed, unfamiliar with the roads where I cut my teeth and other parts of my body.
Rose pointed. “Down here! Take the alley!”
God only knew where she led us, and only the devil understood why.
“Adams Street!” She shouted again.
I turned, blasting down a narrowing street that dropped us behind the high school. Her nails dug into my jacket.
“There’s a hidden left, here, here, here!”
The road was half-dirt, mostly gravel, and the biggest fucking mistake I might have made, but I followed her lead. Another two quick turns, and she dumped me a block closer to the river and gained distance on Temple.
Heading into Anathema territory was idiotic, but so was tangoing with Temple. I whipped onto the bridge and gunned it, burning the engine and hating every fucking time I ever stressed the bike while taking a joyride. Should have known I’d need it in peak condition to escape the crazy motherfuckers gunning me down and framing me for murder.
Only one of Temple’s riders kept up. Rose shouted. We didn’t have a choi
ce.
“Gun in my belt!” I yelled.
Her hands squeezed.
“Get the gun, Rose!”
“I can’t!”
“You’re a fucking Darnell! You learned to shoot before you could walk!”
“Luke—”
A bullet struck the pavement near my bike. I jerked, and Rose nearly tumbled.
“Now, Rose!”
She dragged the gun from my belt. Her arm looped over my waist, digging into my skin hard enough to hurt. I’d have stapled her to my chest if it meant she wouldn’t fall.
I slowed to help line her shot. The Temple asshole snuck in right behind us.
My mirror flashed and the blast of the gun rang in my ear.
I tensed.
The biker fell.
The motorcycle skidded hard against the pavement, scattering sparks and dumping the rider. Didn’t matter how hard he hit the ground, he was dead before the bike wavered.
It was the same bridge where Exorcist died.
Rose shuddered. I eased the throttle and took the gun, replacing it in the hostler. She hid her face in my jacket.
Fuck.
I told Thorne I wouldn’t hurt her. Pretty sure she bled from the spray of glass, and I nearly got her shot. If that wasn’t enough, I traumatized the ever-loving-fuck out of her. She killed her first man under my watch.
Thorne would be pissed. I’d be dead.
Even worse now that only one safe place for her existed in the city.
She recognized the path but didn’t offer me any condolences. She’d have enough to say if she gave my eulogy.
I twisted the streets in pure memory and let my tensing muscles lead the way to Pixie. Sure as hell, every light blazed on the street. I pulled up, and the gates opened. Rose leapt from the bike.
I didn’t have that luxury.
I stilled as Thorne approached, gun outstretched. The cold metal tapped against my skull. His eyes burned with pure shadow.
“Hello, Knight.” The gun cocked. “Welcome back to Anathema.”
The doors crashed open. Men shouted. Bikes silenced.
Anathema left for war but didn’t need to travel far. The battle came to their doorstep.
I managed three hours sleep before the police scanner screamed with alerts about crashes and shootings—a busted motel and a dead motorcyclist on the bridge.
Thorne lost his shit. He broke two tables and every bottle of whiskey before Gold and Keep tossed his ass in a chair. I worried he’d come after me. Rose’s kidnapping wasn’t my fault, but Thorne only believed me once they dragged Luke through Pixie’s doors, gun to his head and arms behind his back.
Rose darted in after him.
Bleeding.
We were fucked.
“Three of Temple’s bikers are out searching for me now.” Luke braved a punch to the gut to speak. Keep aimed high, mercifully, choosing to punish his breath and not his goods. “I brought her here…but they won’t stop looking for me…”
“You want us to let you go, motherfucker?” Keep aimed another punch. “You better sweet-talk better than that. We ain’t letting you go just ‘cause you returned what you fucking stole.”
Rose bolted to the bar, bundling cocktail napkins over the cut on her arm. “Keep! Stop it! He’s telling the truth—”
“Shut your goddamned mouth, Rose, ain’t got nothing to do with you.”
“Keep!”
I pulled her away before Keep turned on her. It wasn’t her brother talking. Whatever shit he injected in his veins took over, and it had less patience than the Darnell usually possessed.
Luke jerked away from Gold’s grasp. It wasn’t a victory.
Thorne’s gun aimed square for the perfect crease in his chin. He shoved Luke against the wall.
This was how he was going to die.
Bloody.
Vengeful.
Neither club ever gave a damn beyond sheer gut-reaction. It was just the sort of idiocy that splattered brains instead of resolving problems. Some crisis chased Luke from his hotel room, and he risked the only bait he had to protect himself from Anathema.
He also lost the only bargaining chip he had to forge a plan with Anathema against the real enemy.
Luke was a villain, but even he sacrificed himself to protect Rose. That made him more of a man than the monsters who raced the streets and threatened an innocent woman just to kill their target.
Rose knew it too. She wrestled from my grip.
“Thorne, stop! He saved my life.”
Thorne was beyond reason. “Go upstairs.”
“Listen to me!”
“Upstairs.”
It wasn’t a proper Anathema disaster unless Rose jigsaw-puzzled her way into a domestic dispute. Too many guns pointed from men who got too little sleep. They lacked civility even when rested, sane, and sober. Who knew what they popped to get them through the night while they prepared for war.
Luke hadn’t surrendered, but he didn’t fight. If he wanted to die a martyr, he was one bullet shy of earning a halo.
“Lyn.” Luke didn’t look at me. “Take Rose upstairs.”
Hell no. If Thorne planned to blast through his skull, I’d be there. It wasn’t a sight I wanted to see, but I knew from the beginning how this would end. From the first shot to the last, Luke was the cause of every adrenaline-fueled catastrophe that plagued the club.
I prepared myself for his funeral every goddamned day.
I imagined it.
I dreaded it.
I hated him for it.
And I blamed him. I couldn’t face the reaper when he stole the one man who tempted, threatened, and teased me with words no one ever whispered to me without a bundle of dollar bills in their hands.
This was his fault.
But I wasn’t letting him die for it.
“Stop it.” My voice carried some authority, but the men weren’t looking for a dance, and I wasn’t strutting around Sorceress. Tits only got me so much respect. The rest I had to earn. “Are you that fucking stupid, Thorne?”
Insulting the president wasn’t the best course of action, but it stilled a few of the tempers. Thorne offered me only a sidelong glance.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Kill him. Then what happens? How much blood can he answer for? If you murder him, every psychopath he stuffed into The Coup is going to unleash on Pixie. I’m thinking you don’t want to face them and Temple at the same time.”
“This isn’t your fight, Lyn,” Luke warned.
Thorne wasn’t as kind. “Better start shaking your ass, or you’re fucking next.”
“Me?”
“You let this happen.”
Rose called to him. “Lyn’s right. Temple doesn’t care who gets in the way as long as they have a shot at Luke. I only took out one of the men chasing us.”
Thorne’s gun tilted. His expression darkened, murderous. “What do you mean you took out?”
Rose’s hands shook. She masked her fear with a drink of whatever she could reach behind the bar. Keep didn’t stock enough alcohol to dull the pain of her taking a life. She’d never get used to that side of Anathema.
“I shot the guy chasing us,” she said.
Thorne released Luke, his breathing labored with an expelled profanity. “You killed a man?”
“I had to.”
“No.” He pointed at her. “No, you fucking didn’t. You never should have been in danger.”
And he didn’t need to make her feel worse. I raised my voice. “We’re all in danger. It’s time to get your head out of your ass and look beyond Pixie.”
“Lyn, I swear to God—”
“The Coup will come for Knight. You kill him, and you might as well turn the gun on us too.”
“For fuck’s sake—”
He didn’t finish. Keep’s patience and sanity cracked. His gun rose.
I jumped before he fired, knocking his arm. The bullet went wide, but not far enough. Luke shouted.
Chaos erupted. Rose and Gold
dove over Keep. Thorne holstered his gun and leapt into the pile to tear Rose away before the drugs sent Keep into a rage.
Luke slumped, but he only grasped his leg.
He bled. Grunted in pain. My worst nightmare played out for all to see, and I couldn’t even reveal how goddamned terrified I was.
I dodged the fight, grabbed a towel, and slid before Luke.
“It’s fine.” He took the towel and covered the bleeding. “Just grazed me.”
Blood seeped through his jeans. The bullet punctured the wall behind him, not his thigh.
“Why would you come here?” I pushed his hands away and studied the wound. It needed to be cleaned, but he’d live—unlike the rest of us. “What happened?”
“Temple blasted through the hotel. I got the kid out.”
“And came to Pixie?” I hissed.
“Where else was I going to take her?” Luke gritted his teeth through the pain, holding Thorne’s gaze. “I knew she was in trouble. I brought her back even though I figured you’d put a bullet in my brain. That count for something?”
Thorne sneered. “It counts for her, but you have to answer for a lot more men. How many of Anathema’s brothers are in the ground because of you?”
“How many more will die if you don’t listen to what I’ve got to say?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Will you bargain with her life too?” Luke nodded to Rose. “Temple MC’s always looking for women, and Rose would fetch a couple thousand once they sell her across the border.”
Thorne rushed. I prevented him from attacking Luke. Thorne and I stood eye-to-eye. Neither of us would blink.
But one of us would see reason.
“Clean him up.” Thorne made the order. It’d be the last time he spoke to me for a while. “He’s worth more alive than dead. Gold, tell his men the meeting’s changed. We’ll be in charge of negotiations now.”
I doubted The Coup would trade for him. Doubted more that they even had something to tempt Anathema besides blood.
Luke didn’t need help walking, but the blood dripped down his leg. Keep swore, pushing past Rose and Gold. He slammed the bar door closed behind him. Gold followed, helmet in hand.
Tempers raged, but when Rose passed to Thorne, he seized her, tangled his fingers in her hair, and held her for a fierce and desperate kiss.