by Lana Grayson
“Why don’t you man the fuck up? Get over yourself so you can take care of her like I fucking told you to do!”
“This conversation have a point?” Keep had a temper like Dad’s. Like mine. And rotten sin like ours had limits to civility. “Gotta tell you, man. I’ve missed you like hell, but you call me up and start bitching me out, I have no problem pretending you’re six feet under.”
“I need a favor.”
“There it is.”
I ignored him. “I got a problem. I hope your head is on straight enough to go to Church.”
“One of us still has the cut. Drop the attitude. What the hell do you want?”
“What have you heard about Temple?”
The silence on the other end hung like I coiled the rope around my neck. Keep’s voice rasped with an incoherent laugh.
“First you betray Anathema—and I don’t care if it was to organize a hit on The Coup, or for the drug money, or to get our fucking douche-bag of a father out of jail. You almost got killed for betraying Anathema. I gotta pretend like the fucking president shot you in the head and then went home to rut my little fucking sister. And you’re gonna call me up after three months of thinking you probably died in a gutter somewhere and ask me about Temple?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It ain’t complicated. It’s Temple. You traded your cut for easy money from an organization that acts more like a cartel than motorcycle club. Now you’re askin’ me to spill on what we’re hearing?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Christ. Maybe Thorne should have put that bullet in your head.”
“Someone knows I’m alive, Keep. You been running your mouth?”
“Fuck you.”
“Three of Temple’s men tried to kill me yesterday,” I said. “I walked into another massacre today, different clubs. Same calling card.”
“Where are you?”
“North of Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh?”
“Erie. By the lake.”
“Holy fuck,” he said. “Look, we’ve got enough problems here. We’re trying to keep the club together. Jerking off Temple is all Knight’s game now. He took over The Coup, but that blood is still bad. We’re not getting out of this without a war.”
“Knight say anything?”
“Nothing. He’s trying to make peace, but he’s still working with Temple and trying to expand.” Keep paused. “Makes sense. No wonder Temple’s sticking their dicks into the great lakes.”
“Temple wants to shove drugs into Canada.”
“Ain’t no better way. Who runs shit over there?”
I snorted. “No one now. I got mixed up with a group called Kingdom. They ran the drugs through the northeast.”
“I take it they’re dead.”
“I’d say so.”
“Temple?”
“It’s gotta be. Making a move.” I grimaced. “But if they realize I’m alive…if they think I double-crossed them?”
“We’re all fucked.”
“You watch over Rose. Temple’s gonna piss with her too. Tell Thorne she might be a target. Fuck, get him to sit down with Knight. Figure this shit out before Cherrywood ends up a goddamned crater.”
“What a fucking mess you made.”
I exhaled. “Yeah.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I got my own trouble here.” I glanced toward the bathroom door. “Gotta take care of this.”
Keep was quiet. “Dad’s got a hearing coming up.”
He didn’t have to tell me. I counted the hours until the perversion of justice presented me with an opportunity. “You go visit Rose. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Want me to take her a message?”
“No. I’ll call when I learn more. Get yourself clean. You’re gonna need a clear head.”
I didn’t let him answer. The phone tossed on the bed next to me. I rubbed my face. A shower sounded good, but I’d never scrape off all the grit.
The TV was one of those smart ones, the kind a guy used to surfed the internet if he didn’t have a bike to tune, a drink to drown in, or the willpower to deny what he wanted most.
I grabbed the remote and went to YouTube. Rose’s channel filled with all different types of music. More videos than the last time I dared to look. I picked the most recent one.
I didn’t know the difference between cool or warm jazz. I really didn’t care about minors or majors, and I recognized the songs she sang only because she used to cover them at the clubhouse. But she sang like an angel, and every second I listened killed me.
For the first time since she was a kid and I was in jail, I wasn’t able to listen to her perform live. At one point in my life, only a locked cell and barred windows would keep me from her.
Now?
It was my own cowardice. My own mistakes. My fault the only place safe enough for her to sing was a strip club controlled by Anathema under the protection of the man too dangerous and rough for someone as delicate as her.
But she sang songs for Thorne and winked at him from the stage. She fell in love with the very same monsters she once tried to escape.
That was my fault too. She needed Thorne. He was the only one keeping her safe from the shit I caused, the enemies I made, and the horrors she endured.
“So…that’s Rose.”
I hadn’t heard the shower stop. Martini spoke behind me, tying the plush cotton robe tight over her body.
“She’s very pretty.”
I swore. The remote bounced from my hand and onto the floor. I lunged for it, but my bad shoulder pitched a fit and the pain nearly crippled me. Worst thing for me was to collapse on the floor in dickless agony while Martini watched me get all sentimental over Rose singing her Guns N’ Roses cover.
Martini scooped up the remote. I said nothing as she turned up the volume. “She’s very talented.”
“She’s gifted.”
I corrected her before I remembered it wasn’t my place to feel pride for anything Rose accomplished. Her gifts were all because she made them happen—the songs, the college, just staying alive and positive when the world tried to destroy her.
The Rose in the video was so different from the one I left. She smiled and meant it. Her voice matured, and she dropped the timid nerves when she stood before the audience. Three months wasn’t a long time to heal, but she was doing better at it than me.
“She can play anything.” Why was I even talking? “I bought her first guitar when she was five. And flute at six. Drum set at ten. She taught it all to herself. She’s always been that way.”
“Oh.” Martini squinted at the TV. Her relieved laugh lit up the room. “Oh! She’s your sister.”
I didn’t answer.
“Wow.” Now Martini nodded. “She must be your baby sister. She’s like…my age.”
Great. That made me feel a lot better coming from the beautiful woman nearly fifteen years younger than me wrapped only in a flimsy hotel towel.
“She’s twenty-one,” I said. “About eighteen years between us.”
Martini handed me the remote. “She looks exactly like you.”
“She should.” I turned the television off. “I’m getting a shower.”
She pointed to the screen. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
She didn’t interrupt. Memories did. Regret did. My intentions did.
“It’s fine.”
Martini sighed and collapsed on the bed. She grabbed the remote but was careful to switch it to something besides the source of my endless guilt.
I had one chance to fix things and prevent someone else from getting hurt.
I double-checked the flimsy lock on the door. Martini needed more than a deadbolt to keep her safe.
She needed me.
And I wouldn’t fail her.
Getting kidnapped wasn’t so bad when the captor got a girl a pepperoni pizza, change of clothes, and a good hair conditioner.
Then again, skipping to the second hotel in
three days and hiding from the police, Sacrilege, Temple, and Kingdom wasn’t a relaxing vacation.
No amount of free cable or complimentary breakfasts healed tortured memories either.
Bodies. Heads. Bullets.
If it bothered Brew, he didn’t show it.
It bothered me, but I hoped he didn’t notice.
Even I had my limits. For as much as I liked a pair of muscular arms wrapping over me, I panicked when Brew trapped me in his embrace. He used me as collateral to save his ass, and I was grateful for it. But Brew had Goliath’s brutality, Red’s intelligence, and so much forlorn baggage that I feared I’d end up six feet under just like my father and uncle.
The thought bothered me.
A lot.
Too much.
I wavered on adrenaline-fueled, unrepentant stupidity when I challenged Brew about his past, but it worked. He told me about Anathema. He told me how he betrayed his club in an effort to save them with drug money and an underhanded attempt to destroy the usurper who split the ranks. He told me about Rose.
And I spent the thirty minutes he was in the shower weeping in utter terror. I thought Sacrilege and Goliath endangered me, but the dark side of Brew was a grenade waiting to explode. He tried to hide his past, but his memories and guilt would shatter it over us.
He knew it too. He stayed quiet, kept me fed, and bought me new clothes to replace the rags tattered by the road.
I won. I had his protection.
But it didn’t feel like a victory.
We ran. We hid. We endured three days of silence, most of it self-inflicted. I deliberately ignored the calls and texts from Sacrilege. It wasn’t like a kidnapper would give me access to my phone. It was easier to pretend that way. Somewhat.
But none of it was easy, especially since men were dead and unrevealed secrets threatened to rip Sacrilege apart. First the deal with Kingdom, then bargaining me as collateral, and now the murders. Nothing made sense, and Brew wasn’t talking. My gut told me he was the one with answers.
The word traitor hit harder than a fist to the jaw. Sacrilege was nothing like Anathema, but even our members stayed loyal. Brew told me the truth, but that darkness was dangerous.
A single man could cause a war, but he couldn’t prevent one. He tried to make deals to fix a problem bigger than himself. The pain he bore was a result of his own actions, and the danger he fought was the consequences of his own decisions.
He suffered through his guilt.
And I don’t know why, but it broke my heart.
We had half a pizza in the mini-fridge, but Brew offered to get us food. I didn’t blame him for wanting out of the hotel room. A man like him belonged on the road. He wouldn’t trap himself inside. In some ways, I envied his exile.
He traveled. Explored the country. Had no one to answer to, no one controlling him, no one to fear. That kind of freedom made any nomadic existence sound promising.
But I couldn’t do it. I had my bar. I loved my family. I tolerated Sacrilege before they fucked everything up. I didn’t want to leave. They gave me no choice. I didn’t trust anyone but Red.
Except a new foolish part of me trusted Brew.
That was going to be a problem.
My cell phone rang. My pulse raged, and I leapt to answer it. Brew warned we’d have to bolt in a hurry, and the tingling hairs on the back of my neck shivered for us to leave hours ago.
Red’s name blinked over the display. I sighed.
“Please tell me you have good news?” I said.
He snorted. “When do I ever have good news?”
“Oh, Christ.”
“You okay?”
I flopped on the bed. “The pizza joint put the pepperoni under the cheese.”
“What?”
“They sliced the pepperoni up into ribbons, and then they stuck it under the cheese. It was gross.”
“Oh, well fuck, I’ll call in the SWAT team and get you out of those deplorable conditions.”
“Don’t get me started on the hotel tap water.”
Red exhaled. He hated to be serious. Getting angry was much easier. I imagined him running a hand through his hair before kicking over a desk chair. Instead of the crash though, the sharp crinkle of the crushed can echoed over the phone. He was drinking then. At home. Alone.
Things were going well then.
“Martini.” He paused. “Seriously. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My honesty surprised me. “I’m safe. We’re cleaned up at least. No bloodshed for a few days. That’s gotta be good.”
“Where are you?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust Goliath. If he knew Red talked to me, he wouldn’t hesitate to break all of his fingers, crush his toes, and yank out every last tooth to figure out where I was. I was not putting him in that danger.
“I’m in a hotel room.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m safe and Noir’s a perfect gentleman. Even bought me ice cream yesterday.”
“Glad you’re living it up.”
I didn’t need his attitude. “What do you expect? You told me to go with him. I did. This is the first time in three days I’ve closed my eyes without seeing a pile of headless bodies.”
“Martini.”
“We’ve been running every day to stay ahead of these freaks. Stopping for a damn ice cream cone isn’t like a drink on the beach.”
“It’s about to get worse.”
“Of course.”
Red traded subtlety for profanity when he got overwhelmed. The string of expletives ringing in my ears was fit for a warzone. Somehow, I knew that’s where I was headed.
“Kingdom is blaming Sacrilege for what happened,” Red said. “Because you were with Noir.”
“But we got there after those men were killed.”
“Doesn’t matter. They think Noir killed their brothers, and they’re gonna start torching shit down here if we don’t give them what they want.”
“And what do they want?” I asked.
“Noir.”
I clenched my jaw. “Tell them no. You’ll never catch us.”
“We don’t have to,” Red said. His voice muffled as he rubbed his face. “Martini, the club voted.”
“On what?”
“You.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s happening?”
“We can’t catch Noir. But you’re there.” Red paused. “You have to kill him.”
My stomach lurched, but I was too far from the bathroom to make it. I forced the sickness down and dug my fingers into the bedspread.
“Shit already hit the fan,” Red said. “Goliath made the call. You have to kill Noir and call us. We’ll come out and…collect him.”
“I’m not killing anyone!”
“If we get the body to Kingdom, they’ll understand we’re on their side. If we don’t? We’re going to be front and center in this war.”
“That is Sam and Goliath’s problem. Not mine.”
Red tried to keep his patience. Failed. “If you don’t do this, Kingdom will come after you too. If they think we’re cooperating, they’ll leave you be. Otherwise—”
“Noir saved my life twice. I’m not going to hurt him.”
“You don’t have a choice!”
“This isn’t a choice. It’s murder!”
Red went silent. I threw a pillow across the room. It wasn’t as satisfying as a glass bottle, but I only had an empty two liter from the pizza run.
I lived in Sacrilege’s territory for twenty-five years. My father and uncle were members, and Red joined after dropping out of med school. I dated Goliath because I liked the thought of a powerful man in a dangerous club, but I never saw any of the hardcore business. I was just a gash. A woman to be property-patched and tattooed around the neck.
Maybe there was time in my life when I craved that excitement and danger and biker adventure. But I wanted parties and sex, not murder and crime
. I wasn’t like them. I made the drinks and served my own brand of trouble. That was it.
And now they expected me to kill?
I’d sooner turn a gun on myself than kill someone else—and I had one hell of a will to live.
“Forget it,” I spat. “I’m not doing it.”
“Then you’re as good as dead.”
I swore. “Then tell them I can’t! Tell them Noir has me tied up and chained at his mercy.”
I pretended like I hadn’t already imagined the scene. Red didn’t buy it.
“Try not to sound so excited.”
“Screw you.”
He took a shaky breath. “I can buy you some time. A day maybe.”
“Gee, thanks. What the fuck would I do without you!”
“Sacrilege will be hunting for him. Kingdom already is. And if you’re telling me Temple’s on his ass too, you’re in trouble.”
“I won’t do it. Not now. I talked to him, Red. I got in his head. He’s finally decided to help me. He wants to protect me. We don’t have to do this. Not if we can prove he wasn’t the murderer.”
“How do we do that?”
My stomach twisted. “I don’t know. But has something to do with the deal and whatever the hell is on that laptop.”
Red stayed silent for a moment. He swore. “I’ll get the computer.”
“How?”
“Leave that to me. Just try to stay ahead of us, okay? Be safe.”
I nodded. “He’s gonna watch out for me. I trust him.”
“Christ, I believe you.”
Brew rapped against the door. Three knocks and a kick to the base. I didn’t question his security. He kept me alive and, so far, he was the only one who tried to get inside the room.
“Gotta go,” I whispered.
“Martini. Look, it’s horrible, I get that. But so is what Kingdom and Goliath will do if they find you two first. Trust me.”
“I do,” I said. “I trust you’ll change their minds.”
I hung up and rubbed my face. Brew swore from the hall. I gave myself one breath to replace my terror and opened the door.
Brew scowled.
“Did you check the peep hole?” His smoky eyes smoldered when they should have blazed, but the glare was no less intimidating. “What did I tell you?”
I never did like being lectured—at least, not outside the bedroom where his tone might have bumbled something fun and dirty deep in my belly. I arched an eyebrow and placed a hand over his chest. My shove hardly moved his muscular bulk, but he got the point.