by Lana Grayson
“But you were a good father.”
My throat closed. “What?”
“You acted like one.”
“Bullshit.”
Rose didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate either.
“You were my big brother, but you were the one who bought me presents. You got me dinners when Mom passed out and forgot. And remember that time I had strep throat and Mom went on the binge and Da—Blade said I was faking it? You put me on your bike and sped right to the hospital.”
“Someone had to do it. You had a hundred and three degree fever.”
“What about the time you took me to the mountains when I was eight? You taught me how to make a snowman.” Her honesty would fracture me, and I didn’t even care. “I still have that picture of us on my mirror. That was one of my favorite trips.”
Good. Then I wouldn’t tell her I grabbed her in the middle of the night and took her to a winter wonderland because Mom blacked out drinking and Dad beat her until blood poured from her ears.
“You rode me to school in sixth grade when that bully Justin Whateverhisnamewas picked on me.”
“I told you to kick his ass.”
“I did, because you taught me how to throw a jab, and then I got suspended for three days.”
“And I took you to the mall for pizza and ice cream every damn day of that suspension.” I laughed, but it turned into a groan. “That isn’t how a father should act. I should have…grounded you. Or something.”
“Wouldn’t have worked. You showed me how to sneak out of my room by going down the drain spout. And then you taught me how to climb the tree to get back up, except I fell and broke my arm.” Rose braved a look at me. “But you were the first to sign my cast.”
“Yeah. Had to practice to sign the forms CPS threw at us.”
“Brew, you were there when Dad wouldn’t give me money for a prom dress. You were the one who taught me to drive. You were the one who answered all my phone calls even if it was late or you were on a run. You came to every one of my performances. Choir. Band. Even when you had to small talk with the soccer moms in their cardigans and khakis.”
Except fucking lonely housewives was one of the perks of Rose’s childhood. “Yeah, but the moms really got off on all my leather.”
“Do yourself a favor and don’t tell Martini that.”
“Deal.”
She nudged my arm. “Remember when you tried to teach me about the birds and the bees? Except you called it the motorcycles and the—”
“Garages.” I grimaced. I thought I did her a service, trying to explain to the awkward kid all the shit she’d see in Pixie. But she already had the fucking lesson. Rose didn’t darken with memory. She laughed.
“And under no circumstances was a boy to park his bike in my garage or else I’d end up having...”
“A moped.”
“That’s just fucked up.”
“I didn’t teach you to swear.”
“Nope,” she said. “That was all Keep.”
I exhaled. My breath didn’t come easier with her so close. I took her hand. “Are you mad at me?”
“I’m always mad at you for something.”
“Are you any more mad at me?”
“No.”
I squeezed her palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t...stop him.”
She didn’t pull away. “I didn’t tell you.”
“I would have helped.”
“I know. I just…” She had to compose herself, and that frustrated her more than the truth. “I hoped I’d never have to face it. He went to jail, and I ignored everything that was in the past, but when all the stuff with The Coup and Temple happened…”
I wrapped my arm over her, pulling her to my chest. She let me, and I kissed her forehead.
“Nothing’s gonna hurt you now, Bud.”
“Except when you leave.”
“It’d be more dangerous if I stayed. Temple’s gonna be looking for Blade. It’ll only be a matter of time before they sniff out the blood. And Martini—she’s in trouble. I can’t let anything happen to her.”
“She’s too young for you.”
And now a lecture from the girl getting cradle-robbed by Thorne. I snorted. “If you went through what we went through, you’d understand why I won’t let her leave my side again.”
“Are you happy?”
“I told you not to worry about me.”
“Too bad.” She untangled herself from my arms. “Are you happy now?”
“Yeah. I am.”
The warehouse door opened, but Thorne and Martini didn’t intrude. She got him to laugh though. I didn’t think that was possible. Rose pulled away, but she kept my hand.
“When will I see you again?”
Good question. “Not sure, Bud. Temple’s making some big moves. They wiped out Martini’s home MC and their biggest rival over to the east. It’s gonna get dark.”
“Can you outrun them?”
“Ain’t no one catching me,” I said. “You keep your eyes open. You’re a big target. You’re a Darnell and you’re patched to Thorne. You gotta use your head. Stay alert.” I grunted. “And take care of Keep. He can’t do it himself.”
She nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can I...can I call you?”
I hugged her again, wondering just how the hell I was ever going to let her go. “Anytime. You got that? You need me for anything, I’ll be there. Understand?”
Martini’s cautious steps were less subtle than Thorne’s call.
“Sweetheart.” He wielded the nickname with every possessive affection she deserved. “They gotta go. Getting late.”
She stood, casting a look over her shoulder before pulling me into a hug again. She buried her face in my chest, just like the last time we separated. Only now, I was coming back.
I had to.
For her.
“Brew.” She stepped away only as Thorne took her hand. Her lip trembled, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“You aren’t just saying you’re my father because you think it’d make me really, really happy, right?”
She knew were to aim and how to shoot to cripple a man. I sucked in a breath. It didn’t do a goddamned bit of good to shield me from the crippling emotions that’d rip off my leather, slice off my ink, and reduce me to tears. I clenched my jaw.
“You’re my daughter, Bud. And it’s about time you know how much I fucking love you.”
The vineyard was lovely in October.
It was one of those phrases I never thought I’d say, but, Christ, did it make me feel classy.
The rolling hills were covered in a decadent green, and the air hung heavy with a natural sweetness. The rows and rows of vine-spiraled arbors bore grapes bursting for harvest. The sun paused overhead, bathing the vineyard and winery in golden light. Even it seemed to still, lazily trekking across the sky toward the evergreen crested mountains far beyond the vineyard with its little dirt roads, beautiful restaurant, and outdoor stone mosaicked patio.
Not that I didn’t miss Pittsburgh, but the local news called for snow.
And bloodshed.
Sacrilege was lost in a night. Kingdom the next. The Feds dispatched from the ‘Burgh to Erie, and, under Red’s orders, I was to stay on the other side of the country in hiding.
Or doing wine tastings.
Or sampling decadent dinners and desserts paired with the perfect wine.
Or spending my nights tangled in hotel sheets, sweaty and sating Brew’s every whim while he rewarded me with my own pleasure.
I sipped my wine. Red just meant for me to run, but it was my turn to determine my definition of safe. And I chose to feel safe in the most beautiful place in the world with a handsome and dangerous man leading me through its secrets. I’d be a perfect tourist and love every moment of it.
The motorcycle roared from a mile away. A few birds scattered along the rural, country road as the Harley bumbled and purr
ed to the vineyard. The driver hopped off—his leathers and jacket far too aggressive for such a beautiful location.
He came for war, but I only meant to share a bottle of perfectly seasoned wine, a vintage from five years ago that aged into a subtle fragrance. It wasn’t hard whiskey and gin, but a girl could get used to the finer things in life.
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed bandit stole to my table, glancing over the empty patio and emptier winery.
“You must be Luke.” I offered him my best smile. It came easier than I expected. His patches read President and 1%, but his regal confidence and story-book blue eyes were much more prince charming than kingdom usurper.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Martini.”
His gaze surveyed the table, the grapes overhead in the trellis, and the creaking wooden winery, but his attention never left me. I gestured for him to take a seat. I offered him a tip of the wine bottle. He didn’t refuse.
“Thank you.” He swirled the liquid too violently. “What is it?”
“Pinot Noir.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s my new favorite.”
He took a sip, but I didn’t picture him a wine drinker. The label on his cut said Knight. He was probably more a tavern guy. Frothy glass of beer and a girl on his lap. He gave me a full minute of peace. Then the sword came down.
“Why am I here?”
“I have something that might be useful to you.”
“I don’t even know you.”
My words charmed the frown from his expression, but it didn’t buy me his trust. “We have mutual friends.”
“I have to confess, honey. Your information is bad. I’m out of friends.”
“Then we have mutual interests.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve heard that before.”
He matched my amusement with a bright, handsome grin with a perfectly positioned dimple and mystical charm. I had no idea how this man ended up ruling a splintered motorcycle club, or how he expected to defend himself from the rampaging warlord stalking Anathema’s territory. But Brew once trusted him, and he had once earned that trust.
“Lovely as it is to meet you, Martini,” he said. “You didn’t organize this meeting. Who did?”
“I have something for you.” I pulled the USB drive from my pocket and slid the item across the table. “I think you’ll need this.”
He stared at the offering, like he read the stolen information on it—the names and faces, dates and locations, weakness and vulnerabilities of Kingdom’s collected surveillance on Temple. The data on the USB resulted in the deaths of too many good guys and more than enough evil men. I was supposed to be traded for it. Captured and caged away until the streets ran with blood.
I shivered. Knight saw. I got the feeling he saw a lot of things.
“You won’t tell me what’s on it?” he said.
“And spoil the fun?”
He flipped the USB along his knuckles—and old trick I watched Red do to improve his dexterity when he was still in med school.
“Why should I trust you?”
“It seems like you could use a friend.”
“That’s true.” He threw back his wine, but his eyes saw through me. “Answer me something.”
“Go for it.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Why?”
“You’re not from around here. You’re calling me on a private number very few people have and inviting me upstate to sample wine, without telling me anything about you or why you’ve chosen me for your...” He tucked the USB in his pocket. “Gift. I’ll tell you this much. I’m done tossing women in the middle of my wars. Period. If you need help, I’ll get you out of here. No questions asked.”
“Are you sure you drove in on a Harley and not a white steed?”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m safer and happier now than I’ve been in a very, very long time.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Are we done?”
“Yep.”
“Nice to meet you, Martini.” He stood, but looked into my eyes, tapping a finger along the chair. “Sorry to hear about Sacrilege MC.”
I tensed. Luke said nothing else and returned to his bike, driving off into the dirt road that separated the rest of the world from the slice of heaven we toured.
Brew took Knight’s abandoned chair, brushing my hand as he reached for my wine.
“You okay?”
The drink buzzed my thoughts, though I hadn’t had more than a glass. “He knew who I was.”
“He did?”
“God. What if he thinks you’re alive?”
Brew quieted, but he shook his head. “Temple worked off my father’s assumptions. They didn’t know for sure.”
“But Blade invited him to the party at Sorceress.”
“It doesn’t benefit my father to let the world in on the secret, especially if he knew I was coming for him. Raises too many questions. It’d put Anathema into the spotlight and ruin The Coup’s deal with Temple.” He shook his head. “No. To the rest of the world? I’m as cold and stiff as my old man. Knight’s got no idea, and it’ll burn him till we meet in Hell.”
I flinched. Brew apologized, but the image stayed with me. Too many miles and too many close calls. His dark eyes narrowed.
“Got a room a few miles from here. Bed and breakfast.”
I laughed. “Oh, they’ll love the leather.”
“You do.”
“On you.” I sipped my wine and shrugged. “And off of you too.”
Brew saw through the act. “You’re worried.”
“Aren’t you?”
He gestured over the vineyard. “I promised you a trip here. Didn’t break that. I promised I keep us safe. Haven’t broken that yet.”
“I know.”
“Do you still trust me, darling?”
I didn’t hesitate. His strength washed over me, and I cherished his every promise.
“Absolutely.”
He hooked his foot under my chair, drawing me close and capturing my lips in a kiss.
“Then this isn’t an exile anymore,” he whispered. “This is just where we need to be.”
The End
Click Here for Warlord Book #1
Click Here for Knight Book #3
Table of Contents
Unnamed
Unnamed
Unnamed
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Sneak Peek-Saint, An Anathema Novella
Sneak Peek-Takeover, Book #1 Legacy Series
Exiled- Book Two