by Lana Grayson
“All you gotta do is give that girl a ride.” Sam offered me the money again. “One little ride up north and drop her off. She’ll be fine.”
“No.”
“No?”
I stood to leave.
They didn’t like that. I exhaled my unspoken profanity as Goliath stepped in front of the door. It was rare I had to look up to meet someone’s gaze, but Goliath was all size, no finesse, and half the man he thought he was. He pushed me to the table.
“Sit down,” he said. “We ain’t asking again.”
Red secured the laptop and hopped off the counter. He wasn’t looking for a fight, not like the knuckle-cracking mouth-breather who got in my face. Sam sighed and pulled a gun from under his vest. I didn’t bother reaching for mine.
“Here’s the problem,” Sam said. “Martini has to get to Kingdom. You’re the only one who knows we have contact with Kingdom. Why complicate this? We don’t want to bring in anyone else, especially someone who might get disillusioned and start talking. Do you understand, son?”
“You’re not gonna murder me.”
“No one would find out,” Sam said. “Anyone tell you how Red got his name?”
“No.”
“He reds up our messes here.”
I frowned. None of this fucking Pittsburgh MC bullshit made any damn sense.
Sam sighed. “It means— he cleans these types of situations for us. Does a good job too. No one would know you were here, no one would know which river we drowned you in. Times are hard, Noir. We need our alliance with Kingdom MC, and Martini will earn their trust for us. A man like you must realize what’s at stake.”
Yeah. I knew plenty about broken allegiances and covert arrangements.
I also knew Sam’s gun hadn’t been shot in years.
But Goliath? Not many men walked around with a worn ball-peen hammer on their belt. I had enough headaches these days, I didn’t need anyone beating my damned conscience to a pulp.
Bluffs were meant to be called, guns fired, and graves dug. I waited for the day when the hail of bullets freed my guilt from my veins and ended the misery I caused.
But that day wasn’t today.
I had work to do. A debt to be earned and vengeance to be wrought. Every passing hour was one less my father rotted in jail. The bribe was already in place. He’d get out soon, and I had to be alive to see it.
He wouldn’t be free for very long.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll take her.”
Sam replaced the gun. “Good man.”
Hardly. Nothing about me was good, least of all my intentions. The guilt coiled in my stomach, raked with razors along my chest. The ache in my shoulder burst with a barbed pain. I deserved it.
Trading one life for another? That’s how monsters were created. But for Rose, for the little kid playing in a dirty bar who grew up with filth and suffered in silence while I paid more attention to the club than the family who needed me?
I promised I’d do anything to avenge her innocence.
Even if it meant hurting everyone else.
Something didn’t add up with this deal.
I wasn’t a member of the MC, but serving their drinks gave me a lot of perspective. Normal bartenders listened to their patrons’ love-lives and bad days. But I cleaned up enough injures and opened enough beers to learn more than a gash with a property patch should have known.
I also wasn’t an idiot.
Trading me to Kingdom as collateral worked when something was worth the hold. Sam and Goliath said they needed to pay for the laptop. But they earned enough money from whatever crazy deals they made with Kingdom.
Had they spent it already? Why were they paying for a laptop Kingdom wanted them to have?
What the hell were they trading me for?
Collateral was collected for something valuable, an item kept high on a shelf or tucked safe and secure. But that was in the real world, a regular society where the 1% made deals with lawyers and contracts, not blood and drugs.
They said I wouldn’t be touched.
I didn’t believe them.
My stomach twisted itself into such a knot the rest of my muscles followed. My fear got so bad it hurt. Whatever control I had over the situation was fading. Fast.
I checked my phone. Twenty minutes passed since Sacrilege met with my tall, dark mystery. I tried to flirt, but Noir was a stone wall. I liked a challenge. Even Goliath was twisted with the right pout. He wasn’t a teddy-bear, but most men had a few stitches loose where the stuffing got ripped out. All I had to do was pull Noir’s loosest thread and hope to God Kingdom MC had easier men to crack than my newfound chauffeur.
The garage’s door slammed. Red scorched the earth as he stalked to his bike. Anger didn’t look good on him. A degree and white lab coat would, but Red turned his back on a world where conflicts were resolved with a handshake instead of a baseball bat and gasoline can. He slammed his helmet on his head as the engine roared over his profanity.
“I’m not letting this happen,” he said. “You go to Kingdom and wait for me.”
“What am I waiting for?” I asked.
“Fuck if I know. Sam and Goliath won’t tell me why you were traded.”
“I told you it was about more than a laptop.”
“Doesn’t matter. You won’t stay there for long.”
“You’re already ending my vacation?” I pulled my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose. “And just as I broke out the coconut rum and planned on sunbathing.”
“That’s the kind of attitude that will get your teeth knocked out.” He revved the bike. The harsh strike of his gaze was enough to rattle me. I didn’t like when the sunset blue of his eyes hardened. “Don’t trust your ride—whoever the fuck this Noir is. I’d rather you straddle the gas tank than wrap an arm around this guy.”
“Yeah, he seems like a ray of sunshine.”
“Just take the ride and let him move on. Don’t get friendly.”
“Where are you going?” I asked it a little too quickly.
“To find a hundred grand.”
“What?”
“A hundred grand. That’s Kingdom MC’s investment in us. Guns and cash. I’m gonna find a way to buy us out of this deal.”
“One hundred thousand dollars…” The amount hurt my head. “What the hell are we doing with a club that can toss that type of investment around? What was on that laptop?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out!”
“They aren’t gonna tell me.”
“Where are you getting a hundred thousand dollars?”
“Mind your business.”
“This is bullshit,” I said. “They can’t hide this from us.”
He snorted. “Stay quiet. Play dumb. If they think you’re nebbin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’ll get hurt.”
“I’m going to get hurt anyway.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Sacrilege is too deep in this mess. We’re both in trouble.”
Red refused to meet my gaze. “Promise me you’ll behave and do what they say. They shouldn’t hurt you. It’s not part of the deal.”
“Kingdom isn’t just letting me crash on the couch,” I said. “They aren’t good men who came across a hundred thousand dollars and decided to be equitable to their neighbors. They’re gonna want more than collateral, Red.”
Red handled his anger about as well as Goliath held his liquor. “So what? Want to run?”
“Think I should?”
He clenched his jaw. “If you don’t show up, these guys will think we cheated them. They’ll get angry, and then I guarantee you’ll get hurt.”
“Great.”
He flexed his hands over the handles. “I’ll bring money as soon as I can and get you out.”
I didn’t tell him he probably wouldn’t make it in time. The thought chilled me, binding me in a shiver torn between shock and self-preservation.
This deal was more dangerous than any of us
realized.
Sacrilege didn’t have anyone with the intelligence, power, or balls to bargain with the real devils of the world, and they never kept secrets. Our club wasn’t complicated. Men earned their patches, fucked their women, and struggled to find work that didn’t involve the same drugs draining their families. The men who got killed were the ones pricking a needle on the wrong side of a high, and it didn’t happen often. A good night was making enough money to cover gas and the bar tab.
They thought they could trap me in the middle of whatever sin they sold for their souls?
Fat. Fucking. Chance.
The meeting ended, and the men filed from the garage. Goliath wasn’t a man for goodbyes. He preferred exuberant, furious hellos ground within the sheets, mostly after a club run and a couple of drinks. He swore at Noir. His vocabulary wasn’t the most impressive, but his colorful string of words painted a threatening picture.
Noir ignored him and focused only on me.
I regretted stumbling off the motorcycle. I lost my formidable seat of power, my only defense against the man who protected his bike like it was his only possession.
Noir was a large man. His shadow darkened me in his strength, his brawn learned on the streets, built and strengthened for necessity, not vanity. He dressed in riding leathers. Head to toe. Leather jacket, gloves, belt, pants. Some men wore it to look formidable, a declaration of their toughness and an invitation for trouble. Noir didn’t need to threaten.
His very presence menaced. His eyes burned an intense and furious shadow. He searched the parking lot for threats and looked at me like a problem to be hauled away.
I had no idea what happened to this man to make his eyes so hard, his squared jaw so practiced with grimace, and his body taut with unspoken violence. It might have once enticed me. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
This man was danger—a desperate beast lurking in the shadows of a pride he once ruled. He regretted his every breath and coiled for a battle life hadn’t yet offered. No road was long enough for him to outrun the chasing demons, but his bike delivered him beyond the sins quaking in his wake.
He was the same kind of mistake I made again and again.
Except this time I wasn’t teasing to get on his bike. This time, I had no choice but to greet the monster who’d command my next hundred and fifty miles. He thought he’d be the dangerous one.
He had no idea what he was getting us into.
My stomach clenched as he approached. His expression hardened like steel, and the sparks of his impatience scorched every part of me.
“Get on the bike.”
I couldn’t resist. I could never resist, as if I didn’t know exactly what a bitten lip and bump onto my tip-toes would do.
“But you were so insistent earlier.” My tease thickened the air like honey. “Change your mind?”
He ignored me. The offered helmet was shoved into my hands. A reprimand.
“Get on the bike. Now.”
He fit within the seat like the Harley became an extension of him. Not how Goliath’s ride sunk and creaked and sputtered with a bad starter and a hundred extra pounds coiling the suspension. Not how Red punished each and every mile he stole from the tires.
Something forced Noir onto the road. He sat poised, like he was born on the bike, but his jacket had no patches or emblems of home. He lurked like an exorcised ghost—no club, no identification, no proud display of strength to the world. The un-patched leather unsettled me as much as the weapons lining his belt.
I slid behind him, adjusting my sunglasses if only to hide my concern. A man like him had a home. Once. He didn’t learn to ride with such confidence without the support of a club. So why wasn’t he there now?
He was running. I didn’t want to imagine the crime he had committed.
This was a bad plan. We weren’t even out of the parking lot, and already I learned more from this man than a bottle of whiskey revealed from any other lost soul.
I held my distance, but packing wasn’t about elegance. I couldn’t force space between us. Riding was intimate. I had to touch him, grip his shoulders, and lean with him. I had to trust the man delivering me as a hostage to a rival MC.
Except this man didn’t deserve my trust.
He also didn’t deserve Kingdom’s retaliation if I decided to bolt.
Every part of me tightened as the bike started. Lost in a kick of dust, exhaust, leather, and his spiced scent, I did as I was told and clung to him. He pulled onto the street and ordered me still. I pretended like the obedience insulted me, and I ignored how the pit of my belly pistoned just as hot as the engine he flared.
My hometown wasn’t big, but somehow no one in Sacrilege ever found their way out. My father. Me. Red. We weren’t lost, only aimless and waiting for the reclaimed time and opportunity promised to the region.
The two red-lights on our main drag were surrounded by the shell of old brick factories, closed up just tight enough to keep only respectable people out. We passed more cars parked in used dealerships than actual traffic. But Jimmy’s on the corner had good pizza. It was probably what kept three generations of my family here.
Noir headed for the highway. I edged closer and tucked against him, bracing against the chill. One hard turn way too fast for the chewed up pot-holes of Pittsburgh fame and I clung to him as well. We bumped over a rough patch. My grip tightened on his shoulder.
“Fuck!”
He jerked away. I fumbled against his back, but I balanced on rides far more risky than his momentary wobble.
“I’m sorry!” I rested my hand lower instead, curling over his waist. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” I almost didn’t hear his mutter over the engine and wind.
“Are you hurt?”
He didn’t answer. Something got him bad. He rolled the arm, but his tension didn’t fade. He was still riding. Either he was that goddamned tough, or the job paid a hell of a good wage.
The thought curdled everything in me—my once iron stomach rusted and eroded. This was all happening way too fast. The deal didn’t make sense, and my silent rider delivered me too quickly to Kingdom’s supposed throne.
It ended now. Someone was going to tell me what the hell was happening. Something passed in secret between Kingdom and Sacrilege that was valuable enough to trade in flesh and shield in blood. We had a three hour trip to Lake Erie before my fucking world ended, and I needed answers.
“Hey!” My usual tempting softness did nothing against the howling wind of the highway. I tugged on his jacket and raised my voice. “Can we stop somewhere?”
“No.”
The word lashed like the strike of a belt. He expected me to ease down, but, most times, I liked a belt. I smiled, in case he sensed the sweetness in my words.
“Please?”
He didn’t answer, even as my hand gently gripped the hardened muscle of his bicep. His eyes never drifted from the road. I was nothing more than a backpack strapped to his body.
He thought of me as cargo. The bastard.
A flicker of impatience burned within the whipping winds. I poked at him again.
“I have to go to the bathroom. Can’t we stop for a minute?”
“Christ.” He slowed the bike. “You can’t wait?”
“It’s a long ride.”
He swore again but merged into the right lane. This far north of the city, only a few towns dotted the highway, built around old coal mines and anchored by the gas stations lining the onramps. Noir eased through the little town and aimed for a diner.
Perfect. A place to sit, and I didn’t even have to pout.
We parked, but he didn’t get off the bike. Noir grabbed my wrist and the midnight threat of his stare lashed harsher than any of his words.
“If you’re not back in three minutes, I’m dragging you out.”
He was a tough one to crack. I regretted zipping my coat and hiding my swayable curves.
“Aw, come on. Let me stretch my legs a bit.”
&n
bsp; “No.”
“You’re more practiced at long rides than I am.” I allowed my gaze to drop from the close cut of his dark hair, the jacket strapped over his broad chest, the crunch of his boots against the gravel. Usually, the tease of the stem of my sunglasses over my lip would be enough to earn that breath of hope—the eagerness men got when they thought they had a chance. I wiggled the bait if only to hook myself a way out.
Noir froze my smirk. “Two minutes and thirty seconds, Darling. Time’s wasting.”
It wasn’t working.
Jesus, it wasn’t working.
I huffed. The one man who didn’t think with his cock was the one delivering me to the worst decision of my life. Riding usually gave me a headache. This freaking mess would cause an aneurysm.
“Look.” I gestured toward the diner. “I’m hungry. Can a girl get a last meal before being tossed to the wolves?”
His eyes flashed.
Pained.
The raw ache within his breath shuddered over the parking lot. His gaze narrowed in cold indifference, but I saw through it. His guard hadn’t just let down. It shattered. Completely. And the jagged edges of his resolve sliced through him and caused more damage than whatever happened to his shoulder.
The weakness crushed him for the briefest of moments. It passed quickly, hidden away within his soul as if no one noticed.
Except I watched.
I always watched. I had to. It was how I survived. I learned to pay attention, and it kept Goliath’s rage sealed up tight. My talent helped me survive on the tips of men who had no business dumping their last twenty on cheap beer in my bar, and it would get me the hell out of this mess.
I saw an opening. I saw that darkness.
Noir didn’t want to take me to Kingdom.
But it was worse than that. He loathed doing it. Something inside him howled and beat against the thought. He silenced it to do his job. Deliver the girl. Collect the money.
He wouldn’t spend that cash.
I brushed a finger along the bike’s handlebars. He watched every tickle of my nails on the worn handles, the grooves where his gloved hands had etched his life to the very essence of the bike.