Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (14 page)

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.

“Back
in the hall then, stranger. Who knows what sort of creeper you are.”

Brew’s
anger didn’t fade. I closed the door behind him with a smirk.

“My
money is on the dresser, but you’ll have to ravish me quick,” I said. “My biker
bodyguard will return any minute, and if he catches you—”

“Jesus,
Martini.”

He
tossed a bag on the bed. A bus ticket tumbled from the pocket. I didn’t touch
it.

“Going
somewhere?” My voice cooled.

Brew
grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “You are, Darling.”

“Oh.”

“Back
home.”

Fuck.

“How
come?” I asked.

He
shifted the jacket from his chest, though his injured shoulder tensed as he
peeled the leather from the muscles. He didn’t ask for help, and I knew better
than to offer it.