by Lana Grayson
And I was the fucker caught in the middle. Salvaging the few good men that survived the war into a haphazard core, a core I didn’t even trust.
Anathema held a round table for our officers. I claimed the executive seat. The others leaned in on bar stools or folding chairs, whatever they could find that wasn’t still stained with blood or the reek of death and treason. Smelled the same to me.
Scotch heaved his bulk into his chair, tapping a newly purchased pack of cigs on the table. The cigarette weighed heavy on his lips. He rubbed the powder white scruff on his chin before flicking his lighter. The nicotine patch peeled from his shoulder and crumpled onto the table.
“Only live once, right?” The smoke exhaled from his nose in a satisfied sigh. “Better enjoy it before the ticker finally gives out.”
“At this point, I’m starting to think death feels like a party.” James “Gold” Mered, club treasurer and goddamned philosopher, bummed a cigarette. “Gotta be a better shindig than this shit.”
It wasn’t just the cigarette smoke that was bitter. Something had to raise our morale. If it meant calling in whores or hiring clowns, I’d do it. Fuck, both at the same time if it helped. Anathema saw weirder shit these last few months than bozo ramming a one-armed Puerto-Rican prostitute.
Except only one thing would fix my club.
Finding the brother betraying us.
And carving out his heart during a special service in our chapel.
“Where’s Frick and Frack?” Gold sucked his cigarette down to the filter. He snapped his fingers, bumming another as soon as he tossed the butt in the ashtray. “Saw them cornering some sweet-ass.”
“Hey.” Scotch threatened with the lighter, aiming the flame at Gold. “Watch your mouth. That’s my goddaughter.”
“Shit, that’s Bud?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Gold whistled. “Damn.”
The door swung open. Keep and Brew arrived in time to defend their sister’s honor before they kicked her ass from the clubhouse back home.
Where she belonged.
“Sorry,” Brew said. He took Scotch’s offered cigarette with a nod. “Family issues.”
Keep slid into his seat and ran a trembling hand over his smooth head. Nervous trait from before he shaved the golden locks no one in his family shared. The shakes were new and getting worse. Wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.
“Kids these days,” Keep said.
“She getting home safe?” I asked.
Brew drew on his cig. “For now.”
“She’ll be fine.” Keep nodded. “Got two prospects riding behind her. Said if she got a flat tire I’d be patching it with their asses.”
Scotch shook his head. “Don’t know. Seems like Rox is the type of guy who’d like that.”
“Times are changin’, old man,” Brew laughed. “Prospects come in all flavors now. I only care if they shoot a gun straight.”
“This is why I liked retirement. My time was simpler.”
“Nothing’s simple anymore.” I cracked the gavel on the stand. “Least of all Anathema.”
Gold grinned. “Guessing it wasn’t Lyn who got you all bloody.”
I ignored the throbbing cut on my cheek. “Compliments of my adventure this morning.”
“I’m getting a little tired of all this adventure,” Keep muttered.
“You and me both,” Brew said.
“New business.” I extended my arms. “Met an old friend this afternoon. Priest decided to take a joyride across the river. I don’t think it was a friendly visit.”
“Christ.” Gold kicked back in his chair. “Was it a hit?”
“No. But he wanted me to know he was following.”
“Why now?” Scotch asked. “What are they playing at? Neither of our crews are ready for war again. Breaking the truce would be suicide.”
I shook my head. “He’s expanding. Exorcist is sniffing around Sorceress. Harassing Lyn.”
Brew chuckled. “Lyn can handle herself.”
“Usually.” I tossed the baggie of crimson meth onto the table. “But the stakes have changed.”
I studied the table. Four men I trusted. Four men the club trusted. Scotch was one of Anathema’s first prospects in the seventies. Gold treated his office with as much respect as his military career. And Brew and Keep came from an original member. They worshiped their father and lived just as he taught—to put Anathema first.
Only they had broken their vow to their father and to the club.
One of the Darnells betrayed us.
I just needed to know who.
“Is that Temple’s meth?” Scotch asked. “Where’s it from?”
“One of Lyn’s girls is shacking up with a Coup officer.” I pitched the baggie across the table. Keep shifted as it rolled near him. “If Exorcist made a deal with Temple MC, he’ll have money for guns, weapons, bribes, everything.”
Gold shook his head. “But Temple hasn’t dealt with Anathema for years. Not since...”
Scotch took a hit of his cigarette. “Not since Blade was put away. ATF wanted him to rat on his supply. Never did. Can’t get that kind of loyalty anymore.”
“If anyone, Temple owes the drugs to us.” Gold leaned forward, flexing a scarred arm burnt in a firefight somewhere outside Tikrit.
“No,” Scotch said. “They owe it to Blade. Never trusted anyone else.”
“Until now?” Keep asked. “Why the hell would they partner with Exorcist?”
“No one is saying they did.” Brew frowned. “Maybe Lyn’s girl got it outside the valley.”
Gold nodded. “That’s true. Ex wouldn’t be stupid enough to deal here.”
“Unless he meant to send a message.” I glanced over the table. Scotch and Gold eyed me through the smoke. Keep avoided looking at the drugs. Brew stared at his brother. “They deal in town. Make a move on Sorceress. Follow me in broad fucking daylight.”
“Damn.” Scotch patted out his cigarette. “So what do we do?”
“Can Lyn talk to her dancer? See where she got her fix?” Gold asked.
“Already pinning her down, I bet.”
“Wouldn’t mind watching that,” Keep grinned. “Not at all.”
“Well, when Lyn blackens her eyes and Exorcist’s crew screams for retaliation, she can stay with you until the shit-storm passes.”
Keep shrugged. “Love is pain.”
I studied the table again. “Gold, take a ride across the river. See what our friends are doing. Find out who they’re talking to.”
“I’ll take my guys. Survey any new businesses popping up.”
“Be careful,” Brew warned. “This ain’t a time to flash a smile and wag your cock.”
“Appreciate your concern,” Gold winked.
Keep took a breath. “Anything else?”
Plenty, but nothing I was willing to say. I shrugged.
“Your sister’s causing problems.”
Both brothers tensed. Brew’s scowl darkened, but Keep shrugged me off.
“It’s fine. No harm done. Rose is just a kid.”
“Doesn’t look it to me,” I said.
Keep’s smile faded. Brew pushed away from the table.
“They won’t act on her.” Keep ignored the comment. “She pawned her guitar, trying to prove some dumbass point to us. Same shop our dad used back in the day. They’ll know she’s an innocent.”
“She’s not innocent. She’s a Darnell. Your family is renowned.”
Brew snorted. “Not renowned. Notorious. I want her protected.”
Keep’s brow twisted. “What?”
“I want a guard on her. Someone to run by her apartment at night. She made a mistake. A big one. And I don’t think Ex is going to forgive her. Not when he can exploit it.”
Keep interrupted Scotch with a laugh. He shrugged. “Exploit what? She’s not involved with Anathema. Anyone with half a brain knows it. She doesn’t need a guard. Maybe a kick in the ass, but no one is going
to piss around with her.”
Gold brushed imaginary dust off his vest. Scotch picked at the plastic wrapper on his cigarette package. The brothers didn’t notice.
“It doesn’t matter if she is involved or not,” Brew said. “She looks like it. She needs help.”
Keep groaned. “She needs a guitar, not a fucking escort.”
Neither brother would back down. It was what I needed, but not what I wanted.
This was the only time Keep and Brew ever disagreed, and it made a bulls-eye out of an innocent girl. I grew up with the brothers. Cut my teeth on the same corners. Fucked the same girls. We practically bled the same blood.
But there it was.
Keep and Brew weren’t fighting about their kid sister’s safety.
One of them knew something the other didn’t.
Either the girl would be a target for Exorcist, or she was just a Darnell with tits.
Brotherly disagreements didn’t usually get the kid sister killed. This one would do more than that. The future of Anathema existed in whatever truth I could decipher from Keep and Brew. And I had no fucking clue how to figure it out.
I waited as the brothers glared over the table. I didn’t know how to read them, but someone did. Someone young. Pretty. Cute enough to pout her away out of trouble and naive enough to slip headfirst into danger.
She needed a rescue. I needed to find the traitor. And once I got Rose to talk, I’d have all the answers and all the ammunition it took to rid Anathema of its betraying desecration.
The smart girls, the good girls, stayed clear of me.
Rose tripped on her way to my altar and offered me Anathema’s redemption. Salvation never looked so beautiful, and damnation never felt so righteous.
“Bring her in,” I said.
The brothers went silent. Scotch softly coughed, waving the smoke from his face.
“Who?” Scotch asked.
“Rose. Bring her in.”
Keep’s trembling stilled. A moment of shock that sobered him up. “Why?”
“Better safe than sorry. Don’t want anything happening to her, do we?”
“Nothing is going to happen to her.”
“Of course not.” I offered a smile. “Especially not under my watch.”
Brew stilled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“No sense in that. Not if she’s in such danger.”
“She’s our family, we can take care of it,” Brew said.
“Anathema is our family.” I let the word linger. He didn’t blink. “You want her protected? I’ll fucking protect her.”
“She doesn’t need your kind of protecting.” Keep’s jaw flexed.
“What’s that mean?”
“She’s a good kid, man. She’s not someone like...” Keep’s hands shook harder. “She’s no whore.”
“I’ll remember that. Any other business?”
Brew’s chair flipped. He stood, staring me down. “We aren’t done here.”
“Do you want her safe or not?” Like they had a choice in her destruction.
“Jesus Christ, Thorne.” He slammed a hand on the table. “Rose is not that kind of girl, and you are exactly that type of man. She needs me to make sure she gets to work and home, not...”
“You think I’m going to hurt your sister?”
“She couldn’t stop you if she wanted.”
I tossed the gavel down. “We’re done. She comes here. End of discussion.”
Keep’s teeth ground audibly from across the room. He rapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Thorne, Exorcist has a hard-on for you. Rose steps anywhere near you and she will become his prime target. Or she’ll get blown away when Ex storms the fucking gates and aims an AK at your bedroom.”
“Ex takes a hit on me and he’ll have full anarchy in the valley,” I said. “He doesn’t have the balls yet. And we’ll take him out before he even gets the idea in his fat head.”
Keep met my gaze for the first time. “I want a vote.”
“I’m offering my services.”
“You don’t have the authority to volunteer our sister into your services.”
I glanced from Gold to Scotch. Both held back their tongues so hard they prepared to choke. I waved a hand toward them.
“All those in favor of protecting Baby Bud Darnell?”
I raised my hand. Keep and Brew simmered. They’d blow after the vote. Didn’t matter to me. I only needed to see which one would finally snap.
“Look.” Scotch lit another cigarette, if only to delay speaking. “I love Bud as much as you guys. But she made an idiot move today. I feel better keeping an eye on her until it blows over.”
“Fuck me,” Keep grunted.
Gold ducked his head down. “I’ve seen a lot of shit lately. Ex isn’t man enough to go after Thorne, but he’d piss with family in a heartbeat. I’m with Thorne. If you want to keep Rose out of this mess, you’ve gotta bring her in. Keep her safe here.”
Brew rubbed his face. He laughed, but it was amusement. “This is fucked up.”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said.
“Bull-fucking-shit. You ain’t taking her on for free.”
“Then that’s between me and your sister.”
“You sonofabitch—”
Keep dove toward me. Gold intercepted, tossing him into his seat before he did something really fucking stupid.
“You lay a finger on her and I’ll kill you myself,” Keep said.
“That I believe.”
The silence pulsed in the room. Brew’s eyes burned black, but he said nothing else. Keep swore and pushed away. The tremors rocking his body nearly propelled him through the door. I only hoped he had enough sense to get his fix before grabbing Rose.
Pretty little thing that she was.
I smirked.
“Meeting adjourned.”
Twenty-one was too old to run away from home.
Except leaving town wasn’t accurate. I wasn’t declaring my independence. I quietly stole it before my brothers realized just how pissed I was.
I packed a spare change of clothes, but the second pair of jeans and shoes didn’t fit with my laptop, flute, and guitar’s looping pedal. The keyboard jammed across my car’s backseat. I needed it more than the TV Brew acquired for me last Christmas.
My suitcase bulged with more musical instruments and equipment. No guitar, of course. I regretted stumbling into that mess, but at least it was already handled. The tie severed, the debt repaid as much as my brothers would allow.
My cell buzzed in my pocket. Screw them. No way was I talking to either brother.
Not after they hauled me out of Anathema like I was some sort of wayward child.
Not after they shoved the stack of twenties into my purse.
Not after they forced two prospects to escort me home.
They flipped tables, swore at me, swore at each other, and screamed until all I imagined was breakfast back home when Dad rampaged through the halls, my brothers and their new patches slammed the front door, and Mom wept in the bathroom with a bottle of bourbon and a pocket full of Vicodin.
The phone buzzed again.
Absolutely not.
My brothers could scream and stomp and threaten all they wanted. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. I was done. I’d find a new job at another dollar coffee diner—one that hadn’t watched my brothers beat my boss to a bloody pulp. I’d upload another song on YouTube to get some ad revenue. Hell, I’d even sell the few pieces of jewelry I had of Mom’s—Craig’s List. No more pawn shops.
I’d make it on my own.
My brothers wouldn’t like it.
And Dad would be furious.
It didn’t matter how many secure walls and steel bars the courts used to separate us. He could still get to me. I’d never be far enough from that man.
As long as he breathed, he’d always be too close.
The phone continued to buzz.
I ripped it from my poc
ket. No sense hiding from Keep and Brew. No Darnell ever left without a fight. I only hoped I didn’t end up tethered to my apartment with my car keys stolen. Or worse. Tethered to an IV with half a dozen concocted stories about the stairs I accidentally tripped down.
I didn’t recognize the number, but Brew and Keep never stayed on the grid with a real cellphone. I tried to growl. My sharp squeak was about as metal as a clarinet with a splintered reed.
“What?”
The unfamiliar voice hesitated. “Is this...Rose Darnell?”
My blush might have spread pink from my cheeks through the stranger’s phone. I cleared my throat.
“Oh! Yes, sorry. That’s me.”
“This is Randal Nix. From Club Sanctuary.”
My stomach flipped like I had wandered too close to a drum kit and got drop-kicked by the percussionist.
“Yes!” The squeak hadn’t disappeared. “Of course. Hello!”
“Would you be available this Friday for a booking? Two hours. Nine until eleven. We’re paying three hundred dollars.”
My heart flooded, sputtered, and stalled out before he even finished offering. I sunk onto my bed, completely missing the mattress and plopping on the floor. The quilt fell to my side, and my suitcase tumbled with it. A tennis shoe stuffed with a dozen guitar picks escaped the bag and spilled.
“Hello?” Randal asked. “Rose?”
I couldn’t speak, but I never did like silence. Dad did. He hated when I sang. When I cried.
When I tried to scream.
I blinked and forced myself into any bit of noise.
“Yes,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting a call.”
“Something’s come up. A slot is available if you want it.”
“I—” The suitcase popped a hinge and opened. I hadn’t even folded the clothes right. Just stuffed shirts and skirts into any opening I could find. I had the drama down, but graceful wasn’t yet in my repertoire. “This Friday?”
“Is it possible?”
If I was still in town. I banged my head against the bed. The mounded blankets didn’t help clear the cacophony.