Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (20 page)

“Doesn’t
have to now,” Brew said. “Temple took out Kingdom first.”

“Fuck
this.” Red pulled his phone. “I’ll go to Kingdom and tell them Temple killed
their men.”

“And
then you singlehandedly start the bloodiest MC drug war in history.” Brew’s
eyes darkened. “Temple and Kingdom go to war, and every club with allegiance to
either of them will get dragged into this fucking nightmare. Including
Sacrilege.” He glanced at me. He worried about Anathema too.

“So
what do we do then?” Red ran a hand through his hair. The leather of his jacket
creased hard, dusty from his ride. His member patch didn’t carry much weight,
but he loved the club as much as the officers. “I won’t be part of a conspiracy
to mass murder. And I won’t be the one hiding an entire crew of bodies from
every goddamned Fed in the country.”

“You
don’t have a choice.”

“Like
hell.”

“If
you tell Kingdom that Temple killed their men, the MCs go to war. You’ll get
hunted down like a fucking dog, and you’ll die. If you tell Sam what you
learned, Goliath will put a bullet in your brain. If you go to Temple and tell
them you were part of a plot to murder their officers? They’ll flay you alive
and leave you in the desert for the scorpions.”

I
shivered. Red sighed, head in his hands. I should have reached for him, either
of them, but I had nothing to offer. Every second that passed just chiseled our
names on our tombstones.

Red
reluctantly spoke, his words edged out between his teeth. “...Or? You got
another plan?”

“I
take the blame. Kingdom and Temple target me.”

“Why
the hell would you do that?”

His
voice deepened, but he didn’t look at me. I didn’t like the finality in his
gaze, the sudden stoicism of a man readying for battle without the comfort of weapons
or armor.

“Because
I’m the only one who can get Martini out of this alive.”

Brew
promised to protect me.

It’d
be a great trick since he wasn’t talking to me.

We
ran to our third hotel room in two nights, and I was exhausted. My arms ached
from clutching the bike’s gas tank instead of Brew, and my eyes scratched dry
from a severe lack of sleep. I forced him to stop and rest. He agreed with a
grunt.

I
checked out my healing cheek as soon as we got into the room. When covered with
a bit of foundation and a practiced hand for disguising bruises, it didn’t look
too bad. A little powder, a kinder light, and I was good as new.

But
for the past two days, Brew hadn’t looked at me. He didn’t repeat any impassioned
declarations to keep me safe. He risked his life to keep me out of the line of
fire, but he still treated me as if we were strangers, as if we hadn’t shared
enough traumatizing moments to bind us together in tragedy.

It
wasn’t because he was stressed.

It
wasn’t because he worried about finding a safe place for the night.

It
was the goddamned bruise on my cheek.

He
couldn’t look at me because I was
hurt
.

I
had enough silence to last a lifetime. I wasn’t a girl who let circumstance
stomp on her feet when she wanted to dance.

I
was just the one who tied a pink scarf around her neck to hide the biggest
mistake of her life.

Brew
tossed a handful of aspirin. I handed him a bottle of water. He slowly accepted
it, like he knew it wasn’t going to be a fair trade. And it wasn’t. I pointed
to the mark on my cheek.

“It’s
not your fault,” I said.

“Christ.”

“If
you saw how I retaliated, you’d be congratulating me.”

Brew
claimed his bed, slipped out of his jacket, and ran a hand through dark hair
that fought the beginning of grey around his temples. His jaw shadowed with
stubble. He never tended it. He’d probably rock a goatee, but everything worked
on him, including the casual inconvenience that permanently etched his lips in
a scowl.

He
reserved that frown for me. I liked it too.

“What’d
you do to him?” He dragged the words from reluctant lips.

“He
probably hasn’t been riding these past few days.”

“Humping
an ice pack?”

“Can’t
be as fun as the real thing.”

Brew
averted his gaze, ensuring the door was locked. As if he hadn’t already double-checked
both the bolt and the chain. I sighed.

He
must’ve flirted at some point. He wasn’t anywhere close to my age, but what
kind of a life approached forty and gave up the will to tease?

I smiled.
He ignored it.

Was
this how was going to be?

One
mistake, one horrible revelation, and we trapped ourselves in an awkward cycle
of denial?

I
wanted his help, and I wanted to help him. His protection kept me safe, but I
needed more. I was tired of feeling weak and used. And maybe it was my own
stupid judgment, but I hoped Brew could eventually heal me. No more risks with
men who controlled me with their fists. I deserved a
real
connection.

With
him.

“We
can’t keep doing this,” I said.

He
knew what I meant and refused to respond. “We’ll only stay here a day. But
these are better digs that I’m used to.”

“That’s
reassuring.” I perked my eyebrow. “There bars on the window.”

“I’ve
slept behind those too.”

“Well,
who hasn’t?”

He
snorted. “Have you?”

I
smirked. “I’m cute as a button and have a killer rack. You think I ever
overnighted in a cell?”

“Now
that should be illegal.”

“Does
it ever bother you?”

He
shrugged. “I could have given the warden head. You’re not the only one with a
nice ass, Darling, but I have my standards.”

“I
wasn’t talking about the deficiencies in our legal system.” I wish I hadn’t giggled.
“I mean being on the run. Does it bother you?”

“It
would, but there’s nothing for me at home.”

He
switched from silence to blistering honesty in a moment. The brutal truth in
his words startled me, but it was more than I had gotten from him in days. I
braved a step closer.

“You
don’t believe that.”

“I
don’t have to believe it. I got nothing there.”

“You
have family.”

He
sat on the bed but didn’t try to sink into his thoughts. I slid before him at eye-level,
just out of reach.

“My
family doesn’t want me.” He no longer shielded himself with the heavy, gruff
bite of his words. But that didn’t make them hurt any less, for him or me.

“They
need you, Brew.”

“There’s
only one thing I can do for them. Once that’s done, it’s over. I won’t be responsible
for their misery anymore.”

“Maybe
they’re miserable without you?”

Brew
met my gaze. “My brother is addicted to the drugs I forced into his system. He
either gets another dime or he finds the strength to break the last needle
before it breaks him. If I go back there, I’d enable him, like I did before. I’ll
end up killing him.”

“And
Rose?”

He
flinched when I said her name. “She’s better off with Thorne.”

“She
loves you.”

“She
always was a bad judge of character.”

“We’ll
probably get along then.”

His
jaw hardened. I poked the bear, but instead of backing off, I stepped closer.
He rolled his shoulder, stretching out the ache. I didn’t have a heating pad or
ice pack to help him, but he liked the pain. He used it to remember just why he
was riding, what he lost when he left.

“One
day you’ll be able to go back,” I said.

“She
deserves better.”

“She
deserves her brother.”

He
groaned and tried to get up. “I’m not—”

I
pushed him down. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

It
was a bad idea, but I moved closer to him until I was lost in the masculine
spice of his scent. Sweat and leather and strength.

I
shouldn’t have stood so close.

I
shouldn’t have looked into his eyes.

“Please
forgive yourself,” I whispered.

“I
can’t.”

“Let
me forgive you.”

“I
don’t need a confession.”

“Then
why are you looking for absolution?” I brushed my hand along his cheek. He
didn’t push me away. “You act like you have one foot in the grave and the other
already in hell. Don’t give up yet.”

“What
am I supposed to do? It’s my fault—”

“It’s
nobody’s fault but your father’s. He abused Rose, and now he’s killing you.
Whether it’s dumping your bike on the highway or making deals with the wrong MC,
you’re doing everything you can to punish yourself. And you don’t have to.”

“And
you?” His fingers moved, just a twitch, only a warning. “The guys you’re with?
The men you follow? I’m no better than Goliath.”

“Yes,
you are.”

“Goliath
might be a bastard, but if you knew the things I’ve done? Ain’t no way you lock
yourself in a hotel with me.”

“That’s
where you’re wrong. It’s not exciting unless I don’t know where the games end
and the danger begins. You start telling me your secrets, I’d be helpless to
resist you.”

“You
really wanna hear my secrets?”

“Do
you want to confess them?”

He
hesitated, his eyes darkening like the last trace of smoke from a once raging
fire. “I don’t want to admit anything that makes me a man like my father.”

I
dropped my guarded tease. “And I don’t want to keep playing games I’ve rigged
to lose.”

Now
he did touch me. His fingers encircled me, bringing me closer, teasing me into
his embrace. I edged between his legs, and his voice rumbled against my skin,
warming my neck where his lips parted and gently brushed.

His
teeth nipped, but he didn’t hurt me. Not yet.

“I’m
afraid of what I’ll do to you,” he warned.

“I
am afraid I’ll like it.”

Honesty
was the only way to get close to him, but being honest with myself? That was
truly frightening.

I finally
understood exactly what I wanted, but trusting myself to let it happen was
impossible.

Brew
was perfect for me. He was strong, sexy, and he deserved the control I offered
Goliath.

But
I gave that control up too quickly, and I accepted the consequences like I
never had a choice.

Brew
would never hurt me. It’d be my own bad decisions doing it for him.

It
didn’t change how I felt about him. I’d hide who I was, pretend like his authority
didn’t overwhelm me. I’d fight my every natural urge to surrender to him. But I
couldn’t be without
him
.

Day
after day of danger and stress and fear destroyed my confidence. Brew was the
only man who could make me feel safe again. And while I preferred that
protection taken, thrust within me, reminded with the beat of his heart and the
weight of his fist over my neck, just standing before Brew chased away my
terror.

Our
desire was a game of Russian roulette. I didn’t know where the bullet was. I
didn’t even know who held the gun. Every languishing heartbeat I spent staring
into his eyes was as dangerous as any high-speed chase, especially since we had
no idea where we were going or what we’d find when we got there.

I
fell into his embrace.

If
I was going to go down, I preferred losing myself to him.

At
least this way, I’d ruin myself with pleasure instead of pain.

Brew
didn’t move. He had more control than I did, even sitting perfectly still,
silent and waiting. My arms curled around his neck, and my fingers played in
the dark, grey speckled curl of his hair. He was so much older than me. Just
another of my mistakes. Thirteen years was a big difference, but it wasn’t our
ages that separated us. He lived every day tempting death. His soul was
tortured, his mind broken with guilt, and his life forsaken as he thought he survived
only to steal the life of another.

And
I was no better. I used him to bury my own problems. I’d never feel
safe
.
I’d hide from the world and myself for a few hours. In his arms. In his passion.

“Darling—”
He whispered. “Don’t start something you’re gonna regret.”

“I’ll
regret it if I don’t try.”

My
lips met his, and the soft grace of my kiss asked and apologized and begged for
anything he was willing to give.

He
didn’t push me away, but he didn’t move. His fingers clutched the comforter.

“I
don’t trust myself,” he said.

“But
I do.”

He
kissed me back, not nearly as hard as our disastrous time before. The gentle,
tender motion wasn’t what either of us wanted. But it was what we needed.

I
parted my lips, allowing the flick of my tongue to taste his. I wasn’t teasing.
The touch was a genuine exploration, so innocent I flushed with more than
excitement.

I never
kissed anybody like that before.

I
never let myself feel the intimacy of wrapping in another’s arms. Lips weren’t
meant to kiss, not from my past. They gave pleasure, but they never received.
They never parted in a sweet gasp. The trail of his attention took refuge in
the hollow of my throat. The scratch of his unshaven chin combated the soothing
trance of his lips.

His
kiss shattered my strength. I clutched at Brew, but I didn’t fear the strike of
a hand or a belt. He never intimidated me that way. My body heated, melted, and
reformed just for his hands.

I
never met anyone powerful enough to control me without moving, without growling
a command, without touching me. I wasn’t a hopeless romantic. I was a realist.
If his kiss was strong enough to bind me with gentle devotion, I’d be lost
before our skin even touched.