Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  Finding my voice, I say, “It’s not bad. Seen better.”

  A chuckle vibrates in his chest. The sound is low, gravelly, and I wonder how it would feel if I were to lay my hands on his chest in that moment. “I’m sure you have, little spy.” He leans down, picking up a weight, holding it out to me. “How strong are you?” One dark brow arches in challenge and I grab the heavy item, which causes me to gasp.

  “This is heavy.” When I meet his gaze, I notice the glint of mischief dancing in the darkness. Those dark orbs are bottomless, and I could so easily get lost in them. Most romance novels talk about the bad guy, the one you need to stay away from, but I find myself wanting to run toward him.

  “Life is heavy, little spy,” he responds. A glint of something sparks in his eye for a second before it’s gone. “And if you’re not strong enough, the weight of it will bring you to your knees.” There’s more to his warning, something personal, lingering under the cocky exterior.

  “I’m strong enough to handle anything life throws my way.” With my words, I attempt to sound grown-up more than I am, but if I’m honest, all I know is Anchor Bay. I’ve been cocooned from the real world by my folks. Now that my dad is gone, all I have is Mom, and I wonder if I can really leave her.

  Rogue shrugs, but his narrowed gaze is locked on me, penetrating through my defenses, as if he can see my lie by just staring at me. Perhaps he can. Maybe he can see all the pain in my heart from knowing my father walked out on me. Even after he promised to be there for my graduation and my eighteenth birthday, which will be here sooner than I want.

  “Are you sure?” Rogue asks, interest shimmering in the dark depths of his gaze. “Because I have a feeling, you’re . . .” He leans in close, stealing my breath with his own. Deft fingers trail along mine, and I almost drop the weight, but Rogue grabs it without effort and smiles. “Fragile.”

  A laugh escapes me at his assessment. “Do I?” I challenge, stepping up to him, which I realize the moment I do it is a mistake. He’s taller than me, by a lot. And when I’m this close, all I can see, all I can feel, is him. Tipping my head back, I lock my stare on his. “I’m the very opposite of fragile,” I bite out. “My father taught me to have confidence, strength, and he always told me to stay loyal to my family.”

  A chuckle rumbles in his chest, which only irks me more. “Oh yeah?” Rogue’s side-smirk has my anger simmering, and I’m about to burst when a shot rings through the air, and suddenly, before I have a moment to think, Rogue is on top of me, sheltering me from the onslaught of bullets being fired toward us.

  When the screeching tires disappear, silence rains down heavily over us. The heat of him overtakes me, cocooning me, and in the haze that’s taken over my mind, my fingertips feel smooth skin.

  I’m not sure how long we lie there, but the heat of him scorches every inch of me. And I realize all I hear is his breath in my ear. Goose bumps explode on my skin, and the feel of his thudding heart beats against me, reminding me he’s on top of me.

  When I finally open my eyes, dark orbs hold me hostage. Our mouths inches from each other’s and our chests flush as we both take long, deep inhales. The corners of his lips inch upward, desire flits through his gaze, and for a second, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, and I realize I want him to—but he doesn’t.

  Fierce embarrassment rushes through me, burning my cheeks, and I place my palms flat against his naked chest, shoving his torso from me. Rogue rolls over onto the grass, but he doesn’t make a move to sit up.

  Pushing to my knees, I breathe deeply to calm my erratic heartbeat that’s racing because of two things—being shot at and having Rogue on top of me. Fear and desire mingle through my veins like a poisonous toxin taking hold of me. My lungs haul in air quick and sharp.

  Rogue’s hand on mine has me opening my eyes to look at him before I ask, “What the fuck was that?”

  “Language, little spy,” Rogue admonishes. “We don’t want your momma coming to whip my ass for your filthy mouth.”

  I roll my eyes before I focus sharply on him, my gaze narrowed. “We have never had something like that happen in Anchor Bay.” My voice is strained, worry lacing every word. It’s true, our town is quiet, welcoming. We don’t get random shootouts.

  “Someone’s clearly pissed off some bad guys,” he tells me nonchalantly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the club will have it handled.” Maybe he’s right, Snake will deal with this. He’s a good person, even though he scares me shitless sometimes. But that doesn’t make being shot at okay. When Rogue takes my hands in his, I glance down and realize he’s trying to calm my trembling.

  I blink, and the tears that I’d held onto for so long tumble down my cheeks, trickling in a salty path to my chin. I’ve already lost my dad; I can’t lose my mom too. If these guys tried to hurt me, I’m almost certain they’ll go for Mom next. But then I turn my attention to Rogue and wonder if they were here for him.

  “I think you should go inside. Lock the doors,” Rogue says. Pushing to his feet, he pulls me with him. My mind is a mess of confusion and fear.

  Lifting my gaze to his, I ask, “Can I stay with you until my mom gets home?” Even as I voice my question, I inwardly cringe. He just asked me if I’m strong, and I said I was, and here I am wanting a babysitter because of a crazy person shooting at us. I shouldn’t have said I can handle anything life throws at me because I certainly can’t handle what just happened.

  “Yeah. I’m going in to call my dad; he’s at the bar,” he tells me, dragging me along behind him. I follow on wobbly legs, and when I step inside their home, I notice how barren it is. There are still a few boxes in the open-plan living room and kitchen, but for furniture, it’s sparse. Only a couple of sofas and a flat-screen against the wall.

  “Nice,” I say, gesturing to the frame on the wall with a signed poster of Metallica. My dad taught me all about rock, about the older bands he loved when he was young, and now, that’s all I have of him. The memories.

  “Yeah, best band in the world,” Rogue says before pulling out a packet of smokes and tapping one out. He presses one to his lips, the white stick burning bright when he dances a flame across the tip. Dark eyes watch me through the haze of smoke as he breathes it out through his nose, making him seem like a mythical dragon, not a man.

  “Those aren’t good for you.” I gesture toward the cherry glowing in the dimly lit house. But all he does is offer a one-shoulder shrug.

  “Life is full of things that are bad for you,” he speaks as he makes his way into the kitchen to flick on a kettle. “If you keep yourself wrapped in a bubble forever, you’ll never live.”

  4

  Rogue

  I don’t know why I’m telling her all this bullshit. There’s no need for me to be nice to her, but after the gunshots that rained down on us, I have a feeling it’s my fault. I brought trouble here, and I’ll make sure to remove it from this town. A glance over my shoulder has me locking my gaze on the pretty girl from next door. Her long, pink hair is a beautiful contrast to her olive skin. Smooth and silky. Her eyes are almond-shaped and bright fucking green. A color that would have men dropping to their knees for a moment of her time.

  But I’m not them.

  I’ll never be good enough for someone like her—a good girl with a future ahead of her.

  “Are you always this philosophical or is that only after you’re shot at?” she sasses me with a small smile, and I wonder briefly if she’s trying to ease the tension hanging in the air between us.

  “All the time,” I tell her. “I’m just that damn good.”

  She laughs at my response, the tinkling sound like a million fucking angels singing in my ear. The moment I think it, I shut it down, pushing it to the back of my mind because angels and I don’t get on very well.

  I set the mug down in front of her. Lifting mine to my mouth, I sip the hot liquid as my gaze tracks her movements. She blows on it for a few seconds before tentatively taking a sip, and I don’t miss the way her hands
tremble. The thick, steamy chocolate makes her moan, and the sound has a direct link to my cock. For a brief moment, I forget about what we’d just been through and wonder what it would be like to have a girlfriend, someone who would be here when I needed her, for both conversation and a good, hard fuck.

  I’ve been with clubwhores since I was sixteen. I lost my virginity to Bambi. I shit you not, her name was Bambi, a dark-haired vixen who hung around the clubhouse all day, every day. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, but she taught me everything I ever needed to know.

  But as I look at Trinity, I realize it’s not just her curvy figure or those plump lips that have me entranced, it’s the way she holds herself. There’s a confident shyness about her, which is more intoxicating than any bottle of bourbon I can drink.

  “Are you okay?” I find myself asking before I can take it back. I don’t want to care, to show her I’m worried about her because that’s opening a door to shit I can’t deal with. But when her gaze locks on mine, I see the fear glinting in those jade orbs.

  She nods, slow and steady, but it’s how her lower lip trembles that has me moving toward her. Without thinking, I set my mug down and wrap her in my arms. Her frame is smaller than mine, and she melts into my hold with her head resting right on my rapidly beating heart.

  I don’t know how long I stand there holding her, but when she pulls away, it feels as if it’s too short. I need more time to feel her warmth, her softness. She’s such a stark contrast to my hard edges, I can’t deny the need to pull her closer once more and not let her go. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything more than cold, unemotional fucking that having her near me like this makes me crave more.

  “If you need to talk . . .” I allow the words to falter into the heaviness that hangs in the air between us. I’m not sure if she’s ever experienced anything like it, but I have. I know what it’s like to dodge a fucking bullet. I don’t want that life for her, yet her mother is involved in the club, and I learned her father is a brother. It means she’ll have grown up with it.

  “Are you trying to be nice?” Once again, this girl shocks me with her fucking sass. Stepping back, I lean my hip against the kitchen counter and pick up my mug.

  “Don’t be a sassy little spy about it,” I bite out, but there’s a grin on my face. A genuine fucking smile. “I don’t offer my services to just anyone.”

  “Oh?” She arches a brow, and I know what’s coming. “I thought any girl who batted her lashes would’ve gotten your attention.” Her cheeks turn bright red at her words, and I take a step toward her, crowding her personal bubble.

  I lean in, allowing my mouth to skate along her cheek before I reach her ear. “You want my attention, little spy?” I taunt. “Then you’ve got it. But be careful, sweetheart. I break hearts as well as virtues.”

  Her breath catches in her throat, and my dick responds with a jolt of need. A shiver trickles over her, and I can’t help but smile when I notice the goose bumps on her shoulder. She doesn’t respond when I move away. I notice her eyes are wide and glassy as her pupils dilate. I dart my tongue out and lick at my lower lip, which catches her attention. She’s no longer shaking. There’s no longer fear in her expression. Instead, I’ve managed to distract her from what happened.

  “Do you tell all the girls that?” Trinity asks, “And do they all fall for it?” She attempts to straighten her spine, and I can’t help wanting to grin. Even standing, she’s so much shorter than I am. Her head barely brushes my chin, which has her tipping her head back to meet my gaze.

  “Don’t need to tell them anything,” I taunt. “When I drop my jeans, they fall to their knees for me.” Even though I know I shouldn’t have said it, the jealousy that flickers in her gaze makes me grin.

  “Well, then you’ll be sorely disappointed,” she bites out. “I’m not them. And I never will be.” My little spy picks up her mug and moves to the backdoor, but she doesn’t step outside. She stands on the threshold and slowly sips her drink.

  “Are you sure about that?” I can’t help but ask because I want her to want me. Heat courses through me, the need to have her grips my chest, holding me hostage, because all I can think about is having her beneath me. Images of her arching her back as I slide into that tight pussy flick through my mind, and my jeans feel even tighter than they were before.

  Trinity turns, setting the empty mug on the counter, and offers me a smile. Her gaze locks on mine, and she slowly shakes her head, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she walks out, allowing the screen door to slam shut behind her.

  My feet carry me out to find her at the back door to her house. She pulls it open and tips her head toward me before she mouths, “I’m not sure.”

  And then she’s gone.

  And all I can think about is having her. Claiming her. Making her mine.

  5

  Trinity

  I should never have admitted how I feel to him last night. It’s stupid. I was being a stupid girl crushing on the bad guy in leather. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but as I sit at the kitchen table eating my cornflakes, I ponder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t walked out. If I had stayed, would he have kissed me? Even as the thought forms in my mind, I shake my head and focus on my cell phone on the table.

  “Trinity,” my mom’s voice comes from the doorway, causing me to look up. Her face is etched with concern, which means she knows about what happened last night. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened?”

  “I was asleep when you got home.”

  “Don’t brush this off.” She rushes to me, her arms wrapping around me, squeezing so tight I can’t breathe. “Are you okay?” When she steps back, she cups my face in her hands, making me look at her, and I can’t move. The question hangs between us, the same thing Rogue asked me when we stood in his kitchen. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but his way of distracting me last night worked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Rogue was—”

  “Rogue. I met him at work.”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “We were talking in the backyard when it happened, and he helped me.” A few emotions flit across my mother’s expression—anger, confusion, knowing—and all I want is for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  “You stay away from him,” she bites out.

  “Well, it’s not his fault.”

  “Trinity, I don’t give a shit.” My mother’s words send cold racing through my veins. “You stay away from him. He’s trouble.”

  “How do you know?” I’m not sure why I’m getting defensive of Rogue, but I push to my feet in frustration. “He was the one who was here for me last night. He helped me when I was scared.” The words tumble from my lips before I have time to think about what I’m saying, and when I see my mother’s expression morph to guilt, I shut my eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean—”

  “No. You’re right, Trin. I was working. After your father walked out without a word, I’ve had to make sure you have a life outside that club because all it brought was trouble. And you’re not going near Rogue again. Or his father for that matter.”

  “It’s not his fault!” My voice bounces off the walls, surrounding us. It’s the first time I’ve ever answered my mother back. And the shock painted on her face makes my chest tighten. I hate fighting with my mother. Even just a disagreement was not something I let happen. Over the past year since he left, I would agree to keep her calm because I blamed myself for my father leaving, but I’m eighteen now. I’m no longer a child. I lower my voice before I repeat, “It’s not his fault.”

  “Go to your room.”

  “It’s not fair,” I tell her again, keeping my voice low, my tone calm. I glance at her, knowing that if I do push it, I’ll just be told to move out. And as much as I’d love to do that, I have to wait.

  Moving to the staircase, I make my way up to my room and shut the door. Leaning against it, I sigh. A rumble of a bike catches my attention, and my feet are racing to the window. Rogue is on his Harley. His
hands grip the handlebars as he revs the engine before he kicks up the stand.

  For a moment, he tilts his head, and our gazes lock. His lips curl slowly, the corner kicking up as he looks over his shoulder at me. I notice the small movement, just a tip of his helmet before he looks ahead of him and pulls out onto the road and speeds toward the center of town.

  I wish my mother would listen to me. It can’t have anything to do with Rogue. Unless . . . What if it’s his father’s fault? No. I’m jumping to conclusions. Shaking my head, I slump on my mattress and stare at the ceiling. Last night when I got home, my stomach swirled with confused emotions—fear, desire, anxiousness.

  I wanted Rogue to kiss me. Even after the shooting, I felt safe with him. I’m convinced he wouldn’t hurt me. He saved me. My bedroom door slides open, and Mom stands in the doorway.

  “I just don’t want you to turn out like me. You have a future ahead of you.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and I realize she’s talking about my dad.

  “I know that, but you can’t blame Rogue for my feelings, Mom,” I tell her, scooting up to sit against my headboard. “I’m eighteen, I can make my own choices, and it’s not to say that he is the man I’m going to marry.”

  The thought of Rogue being anything more than a crush has my stomach whirling with excitement and anxiety. I’m still young, and I’m sure there’ll be many more Rogues in my life, and I wish my mother would trust me.

  “Your father was like that,” Mom says, gesturing with her chin toward the window when the sound of the engine rumbles from outside, and I fight the urge to go to the window to see him. “Young, beautiful, inked, and he had the tongue of a charmer. He could say anything, and I’d be putty in his hands.” I watch my mother settle on the bed. Her hands tangling in the soft material of her tank top. She doesn’t look at me, her focus is on her fingers as she speaks. “This life isn’t for everyone. I didn’t have a choice though. Your father barged into my life, making me fall in love with him before I had time to think.”