by Lana Grayson
“Only two hours?”
“For Friday, yes. If we like what we hear, it might become a permanent booking.”
Of course it would. “Three hundred?”
“I can see our terms aren’t acceptable.”
“No—I mean...”
“Four hundred. For the first performance. We can negotiate a contract if the arrangement works.”
My mouth watered. “Well...that’s generous.”
And absolutely the worst timing imaginable. I gnawed my lip. It’d be awfully hard to escape my brother’s reach if I accepted a gig centered right in the middle of the city.
Independence.
A solid gig.
Freedom from my brothers.
Four hundred and the possibility of a contract.
I kicked the suitcase and silently swore.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Excellent. We’ll see you Friday. Daryl, our floor manager, will help you set up.”
Not much to set up without equipment. I thanked him, probably three too many times, and hauled my butt from the carpet. Regret sucked. Especially when it smacked me just as soon as I finally achieved everything I worked so hard to accomplish.
Except this guilt was worse. It gutted me. Pitted my stomach and soured everything that hadn’t already been twisted, curdled, and rolled. I should have been excited. Should have leapt around my bedroom, celebrated with ice cream, and started planning my set—as if I didn’t know exactly what I would play and what lighting I’d request.
Most people made sacrifices for their dream. They’d give up their jobs, their friends, and their families just to have that one shot to make it.
Instead, my dream sacrificed everything. Freedom. Safety. A world beyond the 1% and police files on my family’s name.
Music bound me to the valley just like the patch on my brothers’ jackets marked their territory. I sighed. I even played the acoustic guitar. No wires to hold me down. Only opportunity.
The knock on the door wasn’t unexpected. I checked my phone. An hour’s peace. Had I not taken the call, I might have sped out of town already.
Or they would have caught me loading my car.
Thank goodness for small miracles.
The pounding didn’t stop. I scowled. They’d drum against the door all night.
Maybe I wouldn’t answer. Maybe I’d put my headphones on and pretend like my lunatic brothers weren’t shouting for me from the landing of my apartment. My neighbors could call the police, but I doubted they’d respond if the caller mentioned the Anathema patch on their vests.
Brew shouted for me, the edge of his voice laced with bundled aggression…and something else.
Fear.
My throat closed. I hated the feeling, the panicky sweat that prickled my neck when I heard my brothers’ angry desperation. Didn’t happen often. I could count on my hand the times the chilled grip choked their voices.
When Mom died.
When the DA threatened Dad with the death penalty.
When Anathema bled over the streets and Exorcist’s war nearly decimated their ranks.
I sighed. No sense in worrying them while I pouted in my apartment. Trying to run was cruel enough, and they deserved to be called psychopaths to their face. At least they’d know it came from the heart.
I stalked to the entryway but flinched as Keep launched his weight into the door. The wood squealed, and the hinges cracked. I shouted but a second kick shattered the door and wrenched it open. It smacked against the wall, the knob imbedding in the drywall.
“Jesus Christ, Rose!” Brew pushed Keep out of his way to loom over me. “When we knock, you fucking answer! Who the fuck knows what might have happened to you?”
My mouth dropped, and a stunned squeal eked out. “Are you two out of your minds?”
Keep ripped the door out of the wall. The hinge cracked and tumbled to the floor. The frame splintered as well. My landlord would pitch a fit if I wasn’t so sure my brothers’ would kill him for even mentioning the security deposit.
“Where the hell were you?” Brew asked. “Are you okay?”
I edged away from the busted drywall. “Well, Christ, I’m pretty freaked out right now!”
“No problem getting home?”
I glanced at Keep. He shrugged.
“You mean besides the two prospects manhandling me out of Pixie, shoving me into the car, and running two red lights to get me home?” I asked.
“Everything in order here?”
I crossed my arms. “I’m fine, aside from being thoroughly humiliated.”
“Oh, you better watch that smart-ass tone,” Keep warned. “Better humiliated than getting throttled in front of the club.”
“Really?” I raised my chin. “You gonna hit me?”
“Why the fuck is she challenging me?” Keep tensed his jaw. His stare lasted only a minute before he slapped Brew’s shoulder. “Straighten our sister out before she says something she’ll regret.”
Brew grunted. “She sounds like she wants that frown smacked off her mouth.”
“Then do it!” I stepped toward Brew before I realized what a horrible idea it was. Then again, a Darnell never retreated. We just bruised easily. “Go ahead. Hit me. Just like Dad. He’d do it. Why don’t you too?”
Brew’s brow threaded. He sucked in a breath. “Jesus.”
“I’m waiting.”
“I’m not going to fucking hit you. Sit down before you cry.”
“I’m not crying.” The tears prickled my eyes. “What do you want? Tell me so you can go.”
“Now she’s kicking us out?” Keep softened his voice at my first sniffle. “The hell is wrong with you? Pawning guitars. Storming over to Pixie. You’re not acting right.”
I still clutched my cell. The excitement for the gig fizzled and popped without ever settling in me. My stomach flipped, but throwing up would only delay the inevitable. I collapsed on the couch.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said.
“This again?” Brew claimed an easy chair I took from the house after Dad left. “Rose—”
“I’m serious. This life. The danger. The panic and the rules and the pawn shops I can’t go to and the restaurants across the river I’m not allowed to eat at. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
My brothers silenced. I looked at the broken door and turned to glance at the tumbled over suit-case resting against my bed.
“I want you guys to leave me alone. Forget about me. Just let me live my life.”
Keep curled his hands behind his head. He shrugged at Brew.
“You tell her,” Keep said. “It was your idea.”
“Wasn’t my idea.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m doing right by her.”
Keep grimaced. “You’re putting her right in the middle.”
“It’s the right call,” he said.
“It’s a fucking mistake.”
Goosebumps tickled my arms. They stared across the room, the blue of Keep’s eyes clashing against the stoic darkness I shared with Brew. Arguments were nothing new to the Darnell family. Dad yelled all the time.
But not my brothers.
Nothing separated my brothers.
“What’s wrong?” I didn’t know who to ask. “What happened?”
“You happened,” Brew said. Keep swore and turned away. “We don’t trust Exorcist. That’s a given. You know how dangerous it is now.”
“Okay.”
“You need to come with us.”
I hid behind a throw pillow, but unless the decorative cushion was made of Kevlar, it didn’t offer the protection I wanted.
“Come where?”
Keep sighed. “Pixie.”
“You’re kidding!” I sucked in a deep breath, but even my singer’s lungs couldn’t hold enough. “I just came from there! You nearly wrecked the place because I was there! You insulted me, dragged me around, and kicked me out!”
“Time to go back.”
&
nbsp; “No!”
“Don’t argue, Bud.”
“Don’t call me Bud!”
“It’s not safe for you here.” Keep shrugged at the busted door. “Especially now. We’re going to keep you hidden for a while.”
I stayed still and tried to prevent my heart from exploding. Counting to ten never did a damn thing for me, but I used to play some Hendrix or Santana to stifle my family’s inherited temper. Too bad I pawned my only form of anger management.
“You want to hide me?” I ground my teeth. “After I tell you I want out, that I want nothing to do with the MC, and that I want to live my own life, you decide to hide me in Anathema?”
“Gotta keep you safe,” Brew said. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“And what if I want to risk it?”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Why?” I pitched the pillow at him. “What gives you the right—”
Brew stood, towering over me and the couch. “I earned that fucking right. What I say goes. You’re coming with us.”
“No.”
“Club voted,” Keep said. “They agreed.”
“I’m not even a part of the club!” I ran my hands through my hair. “You can’t vote on someone’s life who isn’t in Anathema!”
“We did. Majority rules.”
“You’re all insane,” I said. “Good God, no wonder Mom was always high. It’s the only way anyone can handle this.”
“Hey,” Keep snapped. “Leave Mom out of this.”
“Right.” My gaze fell to his arms and the bruised tracks near his elbow. “I know how sensitive a topic it must be.”
Brew ignored me. “Pack a bag. We’ll keep you in hiding until this all blows over.”
The cell practically burned my hand. I groaned. “I can’t go into hiding. I just got a callback. They want me to play at Club Sanctuary.”
Keep grinned, but the expression faltered as Brew shook his head.
“That club is on the other side of the river. No way.”
Now he declared war. My insides chilled, shattered, and impaled me on every last bit of ice flushing through my veins.
“You can’t stop me from doing this,” I whispered. “You aren’t that cruel.”
Brew rubbed his face. “You aren’t listening—”
“How could you do this to me!”
“You have no idea what trouble you might have caused.”
“This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted! Since I was a little kid!”
“It’s just one gig. There will be more.”
“Not if I flake out on this! This is my reputation we’re talking about.”
“There’s more to life than music.”
“You sound just like Dad.”
“Good.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Brew pointed a thick finger in my face. “You better resolve whatever problem you have with Dad, because I’m tired of it. He did everything for this family, and he’s still protecting us, even behind bars.”
“Dad never protected me.”
“Do you want to die? Is that it?” Brew’s words cut like a profanity. “You’re in trouble, Bud. You fucked up. You went where you weren’t supposed to and blundered into the war. Suck it up and listen to me. I’m trying to help you before your brains get splattered all over the goddamned town as a message.”
For as dearly as I loved my brother, there were times I didn’t like him much. Keep took my hand and squeezed.
“We’re keeping you safe,” Keep said. “We’ll have fun. I’ll let you reprogram Pixie’s jukebox.”
My shoulders shrugged, a weak surrender. Brew swore as he stalked to my bedroom. I followed, tripping over shoes as he turned with a darkening glare. “I won’t even ask why your bag is already fucking packed.”
I swallowed. “At least I’m ready to go?”
“Finish.”
“I will…as long as you promise you’ll let me go to the gig. It’s only for two hours. I swear, you can tie me up and leave me in the supply closet the rest of the time. Just please let me do this.”
I stuffed the last bit of my clothes in the suitcase and yelped as Brew stole the bags from my hands. He headed for the door, and I nipped at his heels.
“It’s just for one night!”
“It’s not up to us,” he said.
“What do you mean it isn’t up to you?”
Keep rummaged in my fridge and downed a can of pop. I much preferred him drinking the Coke to the alternatives.
He crushed the can in his hand. The crackling echoed like snapping bones. “Thorne decided he’ll be the one to keep an eye on you.”
I dropped my purse. “Thorne?”
Keep nodded once.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Sorry, Bud.”
“But what does he want with me?”
Keep couldn’t meet my eye. “He said he’d keep you safe.”
“Why can’t you keep me safe?”
“That wasn’t his motion.”
“Oh, Christ, Keep.” I shifted away, nearly collapsing on the couch. “What’s he want in return for protecting me?”
Neither of my brothers spoke. The silence sizzled, broken only by my ruptured breathing.
“You wouldn’t let him,” I whispered. “If he tried, you wouldn’t let him. Right?”
“He won’t hurt you,” Brew said.
I shivered. “Don’t do this.”
“He’s offering, you can’t refuse, let’s just go.”
I shook my head, digging my fingers into the couch. “Don’t you dare make me.”
Keep tried to mediate. He failed. “He’s not going to do anything that would hurt the club.”
“What about hurting me?” My words pinched into a whimper. “You wouldn’t whore out your own sister.”
Brew picked up my bags. “Let’s go.”
“How could you?”
“Now, Rose.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He didn’t meet my eyes. “Don’t make me carry you too. I’ll toss your ass in the trunk with the luggage.”
I seized a desperate breath. The last taste of my freedom, and I hyperventilated over it. I trusted my brothers. I loved them. And even if I feared them, I dreaded what might happen to them so deep inside the club. I never thought they’d hurt me.
I never thought they’d let something like this happen.
That they could be so cruel.
As cruel as him.
“If you make me...” The words silenced themselves. “I will never forgive you.”
Keep picked up my purse and strung it over my shoulder. He wrapped an arm around my waist.
“It’s for your protection.” Keep pulled me to the door. “Come on. He’s waiting.”
I had prayed for protection for so long, the words practically carved within my soul. I just never thought I’d need to be protected again.
Not since Dad went away. Not since I forgot that nightmare. The fears flooded back to me.
Terrified of my own brothers. Of a mistake I didn’t know I made. Of a life I had no choice to live.
And now?
It was right to fear the man offering to protect me.
But how frightening was what he protected me from?
Thorne Radek murdered three men before he turned twenty.
He also broke his arm playing kickball with my brothers when they were ten.
He ruled Anathema like a warlord laying siege to a rebellious village, leaning into the sharpened blade when Exorcist announced the creation of The Coup with his dagger at Thorne’s neck.
And my mother had loved him like another son.
The worst part about Anathema’s dedication to family was how intertwined the MC was within my own. I knew things I shouldn’t, I kept quiet when I should have screamed, and I accidentally lived outside the law because that was my life.
The presents under the Christmas tree were stolen from other children. I rode my bicycle
to the club dealer to help poison my mother. My dollhouse hid ammo. My vocal instructor taught me because it was cheaper than buying four new tires after ducking a rehearsal.
The men in my family twisted in crime, ruled a part of the city most people didn’t know existed, and feared only the day they took their last ride. They didn’t believe in hell or conformity. Brotherhood was everything.
The men I trusted most I also feared. And the man who created us, who was supposed to love and protect us, reveled in his sin. But he lived behind bars confident I’d never reveal just why I wept in joy at his arraignment.
But some things were more terrifying than my father.
Anathema was the ultimate terror.
And my brothers delivered me to its leader.
They escorted me to Pixie in formation. Keep leading, Brew tailing, and my car caught in the middle of their rumbling engines, composing its own dirge with humming tires and the roaring heraldry of Anathema. Just how they preferred. They tuned their bikes loud enough to echo the streets with their presence. The rest of the world noticed, recognized their rockers, and then pretended they hadn’t felt the vibrations through their feet.
I didn’t have that luxury.
And I knew what awaited me at the end of our makeshift procession.
Two prospects unlocked the gates behind Pixie. They open carried, each wielding one visible gun. They probably packed more. But when Dad was VP, they didn’t have the barbed wire fence bordering their parking lot. Or the active guards. They bought security cameras—most businesses in the area used them—but the motion sensors and lights were new.
Keep mentioned thousands of dollars of upgrades to the bar and warehouse. Additional security measures. My brothers forbade me from frequenting Pixie because they feared what would happen when Exorcist outgrew his hole across the river. The block would transform from shady industrial district to Syria in one gunshot. Pixie’d be reduced to smoldering rubble, and Anathema would declare World War Three.
So why did they force me to the front lines?
I kept my mouth shut. My brothers didn’t deserve a single word from me—even if it was to curse them with every expression Keep taught me as a child. They crowded me into the bar, and Keep stashed my bags in his office. I matched their scowls. If nothing else, the Darnell family was easy to read.
Brew pointed. “This way.”