Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  My hand shot out, grabbing her elbow and halting the desperate escape she was trying to make. “You’re so much fucking stronger than that,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice low and not draw attention from the nosey moms who seemed to be shuffling closer, eager for some drama they can share at their next coffee club or play date. “Why do you let him beat you down?”

  She paused, frozen, her attention focused on the playground where Kadey was giggling loudly as Grace reached up, trying to tickle her feet, and it was like things changed in an instant. That baby girl gave this woman some kind of strength like I’d never seen before. Missy suddenly spun back, her rich inky hair fluttering around her face, some strands stuck to the new tears that decorated her cheeks. “I can hold my own, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve been doing it since my parents kicked me out halfway through my senior year because I got knocked up. I’ve been doing it for years in that shit-box strip club.” She rambled on, and the more she spoke, the closer I pulled her to me. She’d lit the fire that burned deep in my belly, and it was now determined to scorch every fucking thing around us that could hurt her. “Shaking my fucking ass for dollars, getting groped and grabbed, doing whatever the fuck I had to so Kadey could have some kind of normal life. I did it all so I wouldn’t have to tell her we couldn’t eat tonight or that we couldn’t watch her favorite cartoons because the power had been turned off.”

  “Baby, I fucking hear you,” I rasped, enjoying the way her lips fell open. Like she wanted to tell me she fucking hated when I called her that, but she knew it would be a damn lie. “You’re doing it. You’re fucking raising that kid on your own, and it’s about time you stop letting that asshole use her to fucking hurt you because he knows that her happiness is your weakness.”

  Our bodies were pressed against each other now, neither pulling away in a hurry. Her eyes drifting down to where I was holding her, and I saw the second she noticed the scar that wound itself around my arm. I forgot it was there sometimes. The barbed wire I’d had tattooed over the top of it often made people think it was some kind of illusion.

  But when you looked at it closely, you could see the way the skin stretched and was deformed, where they’d had to remove a strip of flesh that it was too late to save.

  I expected her to pull back.

  I was waiting for the disgusted cringe.

  But instead, she looked back up at me and rolled her eyes. “I hate being called baby.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk at the lackluster protest.

  “Can’t fucking help it,” I answered, lowering my head, so my lips brushed her ear. “Ever since you walked up to the clubhouse the other weekend, I can’t help but fucking wonder what would happen if someone tried to back you into a corner.”

  Her head shook just slightly, though she didn’t pull away. “I didn’t take you as a Dirty Dancing fan.”

  “Swayze is a king.”

  “Mama! Come see me slide!” Kadey’s voice echoed over the playground of children, the kid definitely not shy when it comes to crowds. “Mama!”

  Missy took a step back, one foot after another until she slipped from my hold. “So full of surprises. I’m gonna need to keep my eyes on you,” she teased, the tearful look now gone, and in its place, this playful smile I knew I’d do almost fucking anything to light up her eyes again. “See you on Saturday, Swayze.”

  I couldn’t fucking take my eyes off her. Not as she gathered my sister in her arms and said thank you, or as she caught Kadey at the bottom of the slide and threw her into the air, the both of them throwing their heads back in laughter.

  “I like her. She’d be good for you,” Grace announced, leaning into me to take some of the pressure off her pregnant body. “You should stay.”

  I shook my head. “I promised you today,” I responded, hooking my arm over her shoulder. “I can see them whenever. You, my darling sister, are much harder to pin down.”

  6

  MISSY

  “Thanks, Leigh!” I called over the music. The beautiful blonde club girl tending the bar grinned and waved a bottle of tequila in response before tipping it upside down and filling ten shot glasses.

  I wiggled the tray of drinks to the edge of the bar and found the balance with my hand before hefting it up to my shoulder. The drinks barely rattled, even as I dipped and dived around the clubhouse full of club members, construction workers, and from what I understood, staff for their new sports bar.

  It opened Tuesday, and tonight, they were celebrating.

  And celebrating hard.

  “The boys here are hot,” Gem shouted as we passed by each other, not even giving me a chance to reply, so I just laughed. She wasn’t wrong. At least eighty percent of the men wearing club colors were sexy as hell. The muscles, the tattoos, the attitudes—the bad boys that every fucking woman craved, including me.

  I’d thought Jared was one of them at some point.

  My seventeen-year-old self seeing the fast car, the smoking, and the overbearing confidence as something I needed to fill that rebellious craving.

  Oh, how fucking naive I was thinking there was any comparison between Jared and his jobless, drug-addicted ass, and these men who didn’t need to yell and scream at women to make themselves feel like a fucking man.

  My first stop was the corner booth, the table where Hawk sat beside an older man with a president patch over his heart and a couple of other guys who looked important. I eased up to where they were seated, bending at my knees to slip the tray onto the table before standing back up and placing my hands on the wooden surface.

  Hawk was the first one to look up, a smirk forming as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back into the booth seats. “Hey, baby.”

  “Swayze,” I threw back, confusing every other man at the fucking table.

  “Boys, this is Missy,” he announced, surprising me for a second, given I was only meant to be there to serve drinks and dance.

  But he continued to introduce me to the boys at the table--Bishop, the club’s president, Blue and Cain, Sergeant-at-Arms and Road Captain, respectively.

  Blue took a new beer, the rest looking for something a little harder. “I’ll get rid of these, then be back with a bottle and some glasses for you guys.”

  Bishop nodded. “’Preciate it.”

  The night passed quickly, Gem and I dancing twice on the makeshift stage they’d whipped together before returning to serve drinks, a lot faster given everyone was a great deal more fucking drunk than they’d been at the beginning of the night. I was heading outside when a hand tickled my bare waist, almost earning the owner a slap in the face.

  “When you’re done with these, come have a drink with me,” Hawk murmured, leaning into me, his lips barely brushing my ear.

  “I’m working,” I argued, though even I knew it sounded fucking pathetic.

  “And I hired you. So, I say it’s okay.” The low rasp of his voice sent another shudder through me, his fingers pinching at my waist, no doubt fucking loving the response he had on my damn body. “Come find me.”

  “That an order or a request?” I teased, slipping away from him with a grin. “Because just a hint, I don’t do well with orders.”

  I thought I’d won that battle, but as I turned to walk away, all I heard was, “We’ll see about that.”

  And I knew I was in trouble.

  So much fucking trouble.

  And I hated just how much that excited me.

  Eagerly, I moved through the groups of people outside, quickly trying to get rid of the drinks on my tray.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks!”

  Before I could even turn to find the owner of the snarky, chauvinistic taunt, a hand struck my ass—hard. Every muscle in my body tightened as I fought through the sting, knowing there was going to be a fucking mark left there, if not a bruise. I should have been used to it by now, but as the pain radiated through me, I had to grit my teeth.

  “How ’bout you come sit wit
h us for a minute?”

  My free hand curled into a fist, the urge to swing almost overwhelming me even though the blur of tears that had now formed in my eyes would’ve made my aim not so fucking great.

  It wouldn’t be the first time I’d leveled a guy who’d gotten too handsy.

  Working at a strip club on the wrong side of town meant a lot of drunk bastards thought you were specifically there for them to fondle. Occasionally, I had to take things into my own hands before one of the few security guards could get to me.

  But unfortunately, now wasn’t the time or place to be throwing my weight around. Given inside the clubhouse gates, I was an employee, and the guy whose hand was currently imprinted on my fucking ass cheek was apparently an employee of the club. Their shirts announcing they were security for the sports bar, Backroad.

  I knew I didn’t have to put up with being abused or treated like shit, but I did learn a long time ago that sometimes it was better to keep my mouth shut and show some respect to people in more important positions.

  Just walk away.

  Clearing my throat, I turned, purposely taking a step back, trying to put some distance between Mr. Handsy and me. “Sorry, boys, I have work to do,” I purred, putting on that fake façade and forcing my voice to be a couple of octaves higher.

  I leaned forward, gathering a handful of empty beer bottles off the picnic table they were sitting at, trying my best to ignore the way they were eyeing me, like coyotes looking to rip into me and tear off whatever they could sink their teeth into—including my self-respect.

  A shudder rolled through me, and I stumbled back, the strange sensation not one I had received so far that night. Everyone had been polite and courteous to the other girls around the clubhouse and me. This group of guys though, had me wanting to back away slowly.

  Mr. Handsy’s eyes dipped, following the curves of my body to my knee-high black boots. “What a shame,” he announced over the loud music thumping from the clubhouse speaker system and grinning as he picked up a cigar from the table and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. “I have a lot of dollar bills.”

  He sucked on the cigar, the lit end coming alive with sparkling embers as he pulled the smoke into his mouth, then like the fuck boy he was, he pulled the cigar from his lips and held my gaze, blowing the fucking stream of smoke right at my damn face. It burned my eyes, and I pinched them closed, trying to let it waft away.

  I should’ve walked then, especially when another shudder rippled upward through my body, sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin. His friends chortled loudly, the four of them throwing their heads back and cackling like damn hyenas.

  Maybe the comment was meant to be some kind of weird fucking compliment.

  Or possibly the opposite, and it was his way of making sure I knew I was below him.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but let him know I wasn’t.

  “Maybe you could take those dollar bills down to the corner store, get yourself some lube, then head on back to your mom’s house and jerk yourself off,” I countered, aware of how I’d managed to keep my hands to myself and not break his nose for touching or choking me with his cancer stick, but also how I seemed to have forgotten to relay the message to my mouth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  I turned to walk away, but I should’ve known better than to turn my back on a chauvinistic bastard who’s just been shot down in front of his friends.

  “We aren’t done—” He reached for me. His fingers curled around my thigh, slipping between them. Whether he was trying to halt my escape, or just fucking grope me I don’t know, but he did it with his cigar still tucked between his fingers.

  It took at least a second to realize what was going on, but the pain hit me like a freight train. I screamed, throwing the bottles I was holding to the ground and swinging around, this time all self-control out the window.

  My palm connected with his cheek, and I shoved at his shoulders. He grabbed my wrist, trying to stop the attack, though the pain just spurred me on, getting worse and worse until I finally managed to hit him again, which helped to loosen his hold on me, forcing at least a couple feet of distance between us.

  “Shit,” I cursed, tears flooding my eyes, choking me, my nose even running, though I swore I could still smell my skin burning. I could fucking feel it, the sickening burn surging through me. “Fuck, fuck.”

  “Fucking bitch!” the guy exploded, tossing the lit cigar in his hand to the side. Even in the poor light, you could see the way his skin began to change, an unmistakable shade of crimson anger crawling up his neck.

  His hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist and dragging me forward.

  “Hey!” a familiar voice boomed, the sound of heavy boots skidding on the loose stones as they rushed toward us, a welcome reprieve as I struggled against the bastard’s tight hold. At the same time, I was trying to keep myself breathing through the heavy sob of tears.

  The asshole’s body was huge now he was on his feet, the size of a fucking bulldozer, and he was right in my face. “Pick this shit up, bitch.” I tugged against his hold, digging the heel of my boots into the ground, trying to pull away, but his fingers only squeezed tighter until the pain was almost too much to bear, and my knees began to give way.

  A body stormed forward, slamming at force into the asshole’s shoulder.

  He lost his grip, the power behind Hawk’s anger sending him stumbling backward. He scrambled, managing to grab the picnic table he and his buddies had been sitting at to steady himself, so he didn’t land on his fat ass. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Hawk seethed, fists forming at his sides.

  A hand found my shoulder, gently tugging me back as Blue and another member whose patch read ‘Scoop,’ stepped in front of me, their bodies like a wall of protection.

  “That whore attacked me,” the guy protested, finding his footing again and jabbing his dirty fucking fingers at me.

  “Fuck you!” I spat, throwing my body forward, only to find Blue’s arm around my waist, pulling me back. Tears streamed down onto my cheeks—a mixture of agony and anger streaking down my face.

  “Listen here, bitch—”

  “Call her a bitch again, and we’ll soon find out exactly who the bitch is,” Hawk threatened, shoving his hands against his chest. A warning if I’d ever seen one, given I already knew Hawk wasn’t afraid to use his fucking fists when he felt the moment called for it.

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  But no, I needed to smart-mouth him.

  I pulled my lip in between my teeth, chewing on it hard.

  Hawk finally looked over his shoulder to where Blue still held me captive, probably looking like a hot fucking mess, red-faced and bawling. It felt like the air was suddenly heavier, my chest heaving as I fought for breath. Though at least my anger had distracted me from the throbbing pain in my leg for a few seconds. “You all right?” Hawk asked, his eyebrow raised in question while his eyes did one sweep of my body, checking for injuries.

  I turned my attention to the asshole in question. His breathing was deep and heavy, his eyes meeting mine in a narrowed and silent threat.

  The warning glare was clear.

  Gritting my teeth, I held my breath. “Yeah. I’m fin—”

  “Bullshit,” Blue growled, cutting me off and holding up my wrist, the limb red and angry, drawing everyone’s eyes to it like a glowing fucking beacon.

  Though as of yet, no one had noticed the back of my leg.

  The source of the pain that was making me feel like I might fucking vomit at any second.

  “You’re fired,” Hawk drawled, pointing at the compound gates. “Get the fuck out.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  What the hell have you done?

  7

  HAWK

  Robert started laughing, watching his friends, who were looking a little more unsure than their buddy. Maybe they were smarter. Maybe they knew who the fuck they were dealing with. />
  “I’ll get my stuf—” Missy started before I held up my hand.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” I answered. Instead, pointing at the asshole who had just attacked her. “Robert, take your boys. Get out. Don’t come back.”

  Missy’s face dropped, and her eyes flicked around with worry. “Hawk… it’s fine, you don’t—”

  “The hell is going on?” Bishop roared as he and a handful of brothers joined the group. His eyes moved from one person to the next, clearly feeling the tension in the air. He ended his examination on the asshole in question. “Robert?”

  Asshole.

  “Your boy here just tried to fucking fire me.” Robert chuckled, shaking his head.

  “And why would he do that?” Bishop inquired with his eyebrow raised.

  “’Cause he grabbed Missy,” Blue cut in. “Bruised her fucking wrist.”

  “Bitch slapped me,” Robert snapped, standing a little taller, his chest huffing and fucking puffing.

  That was it.

  My body felt like it was on fire.

  I was fucking done with this bastard.

  I rushed forward so quickly he didn’t have time to put up any kind of defense. Pulling my fist back, my right hook connected square with his jaw, throwing his body off-kilter and forcing him to fall against the table. The left hook I drove hard into his ribs, each blow so fucking satisfying, easing the fire that felt like it was burning across my skin.

  “You’ve got five minutes to pack your shit and get out,” Bishop announced, his eyes narrowed on Robert, the rest of his buddies looking on in shock and confusion.

  Robert braced his hands on the table, his heavy ass fighting fucking hard to stay vertical. “We’ve signed fucking contracts,” Robert raged, turning his head and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground beside him before focusing his darkened glare on Missy. “We gave up other work to take this job. You just gonna let one of your bitches rule? Ha! Weak.”