Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (29 page)

“He’ll
think its Thorne.” Rose puffed. “It’ll scare him.”

Nothing
would scare a monster like Blade. If abusing his own daughter and sitting in
jail for murder didn’t bother him, Thorne’s bike would just piss him off.

Or
he’d think of it as a challenge.

Rose
pointed to a side entrance and darted inside before I stopped her. The
thrumming bass pulsed the club like a rave, but the expensive furniture,
recessed lighting, and soft colors exuded femininity. The halls filled with
private stages and darkened dressing rooms, beaded curtains and the
all-familiar grind of a malfunctioning printer from an office.

Two
dancers in thongs dropped their act as soon as they jumped offstage. They
ignored us in favor of their cell phones and ducked out of Rose’s path.

“There’s
no way in hell Brew and Thorne let you strip?” I said.

“Don’t
worry. I play guitar and sing. Covers, mostly.” Rose peeked in an empty office
before ushering me deeper into the club. “They try to play it up like this is a
real gig, but Sorceress is one of Anathema’s investments. Playing here is an
easy way for the guys to keep an eye on me.”

“You’re
okay with that?”

“You’ve
met Br—my brother. Thorne is just as protective. But…” She was honest because I
bet she was a worse liar than Brew. “I earn ridiculous tips if Lyn dances when
I play, and my YouTube channel gets a ton of hits if I make music videos with
the girls.”

“You’re
too practical for this life.”

“Someone
in my family has to be.”

The
music shifted to a steadier, seductive beat, and the lights dimmed. A single
dancer took the stage, swaying her hips to a popular R&B song as a dozen
grizzled, leather-bound men flashed fistfuls of cash. I searched the crowd, but
a woman’s sudden profanity stopped us short of the main floor.

“What
the
hell
are you doing here?” The hiss of feminine authority belonged to
a black skirt and laced up corset stitched from the skin of the devil himself. The
leggy blonde wielded four inch stilettos and an attitude born from their
unforgiving bite strapped against her feet. “I told you not to come tonight!”

Rose
flinched, but she didn’t roll over. “We have a problem, Lyn. This is Martini.
She’s...she’s with…”

We
didn’t have time to waste on veiled secrets. “I need to find Brew.”

Lyn’s
radioactive gaze told me everything and punished me for trying to find out more.
“He’s dead. Case closed.”

“I
know he isn’t dead.”

“What?
You his old lady?”

“I
blew that chance.”

“Honey,
if you can still blow him, you got a chance,” Lyn said. If looks could kill,
her perfectly manicured nails, curls of blonde hair, and temptress red lips
would have resurrected a man just to murder him again. “Aren’t you a little
young for him?”

“Is
he here?”

“He’s
in trouble, Lyn,” Rose said.

“Why?”

I
tried to push past her. Lyn didn’t budge, and I didn’t trust her sharpened
nails.

“There’s
a bounty on his head and three MCs chasing him,” I said. “I didn’t tell him I was
here, but I’ve gotta help him out before something happens.”

“Where
are Thorne and Keep?”

Rose
hesitated. “We…didn’t tell them we were coming.”

Lyn
swore. “Christ, Rose. Next time you want to create a headache, just drive the
ice-pick into my brain. Saves time.”

“Seriously,
Lyn.”

“
Seriously
?”
The blonde laughed. “Seriously, get out of here. Too much shit is going down
tonight.”

I
groaned. MC politics were complicated enough. Add in a couple gashes and sordid
histories with the men, and drug lords and state police seemed a hell of a lot
easier to deal with. Lyn shouted after me, the clip of her heels every bit the
same threat as a blasting shotgun.

“Rose,
go wait in my office,” Lyn ordered. Rose didn’t listen. She matched my pace as
we burst through the halls.

The
thick bass of the stage rumbled in my stomach, unsettling what had been empty
since I escaped the burning bar, Temple, and Goliath. My skin crawled even in
memory. I preferred the pain of the belt’s bites to the shudders of my own
disgust. Every part of me tensed in silent agony as I pushed my battered body
to find the only one who’d heal it.

Lyn
opened a door to my left. The lights dimmed, but the girl dancing inside
entertained one of Anathema’s men. Rose picked the room on the right.

She
gasped and stumbled into me.

The
man in the doorway studied us with a sneer of such loathing the hatred circled
back into lust. His gaze stopped on only the parts that mattered to him—lips,
tits, the crest between our legs.

He
was old, grey, and overweight, but the same brute strength and sadism that
strengthened Goliath raged in his body. I didn’t need to ask his name or read
the patch on his cut.

I
knew who he was.

And
Rose stared him down, her chest heaving between frantic breaths and enraged
screams.

“Dad,
where’s Brew?”

Blade
Darnell didn’t have any right to look at Rose like he did, but he deliberately leered.
Getting off on watching how badly he terrified his own flesh and blood. His
silence punished Rose, and the imposing bulk of his body crept too close. Lyn
edged between the monster and the girl, the skin-tight corset was her own cut and
emblem.

“Rosie-Bud.”
Blade’s tongue thickened over the name, like he tasted every time he ever used
the nickname. I didn’t want to imagine it. Rose flinched as she remembered. “Brew’s
dead. You know that.”

She
didn’t blink. “
Where is he
?”

“I
told you. He’s
dead
.”

The
word shivered against me. Not the wink and nod of a man who understood a faked
death. He spoke like Brew
was
dead.

And
I believed him.

“Now
run on home.” Blade nudged her chin with his hand. She pushed him away. “This
is no place for my little girl.”

“Get
the hell out of my club,” Lyn hissed. “Now.”

“You
still owe me a dance, princess.”

“Wrong
fairy tale, Blade.”

“Better
make it right or you’ll need a gallant white knight to rescue you.”

He
stalked away in a foreboding, awful silence. Rose fell against the wall. She fought
against Lyn as she offered a hug. Her voice hardened.

“Let’s
find my idiot brother. I don’t like this.”

That
made two of us. I rushed to the end of the hall, opening the door only to
nearly tumble down the access stairs to the basement. Lyn shouted into the dim
light. The shuffling of boots and grunted breath echoed into the cement. One
body crumpled onto the floor, blood leeching from a wound in his head.

Brew
swore, colliding with his second attacker in a fury of punches and kicks. A gun
fell to the ground, but the man had the upper edge, driving an elbow into
Brew’s back and crushing him to his knees. He grabbed Brew by the neck,
squeezing the air from his body. Brew launched backward, driving the man into
the drywall.

But
the attacker’s fist punched at his temple, and Brew weakened. He managed one
last strike before the bastard threw another solid punch.

Brew
collapsed on the ground.

My
heart stopped.

Rose
screamed, charging down the stairs and diving over Brew’s body to rip at the
bleeding attacker. She scratched, clawed, and bit, striking his face with
hysterical strength. The man swore as she swiped at his nose and broke it with
the heel of her hand.

Brew
wasn’t moving. I slid to his side, slapping at his cheek and crying out his
name. The creeping pallor claimed his skin, and blood-stained sweat dripped
over his brow.

The
attacker punched once, his fist imbedding in Rose’s stomach. Her wild screams
silenced, and she crumpled, immobilized with a punishing kick to her head. Her
pain sliced the room, and the man bolted for the stairs.

He
never made it.

The
sickening crunch of metal cracking through skull rang over the basement.

His
lifeless body fell forward, dead before he smacked his teeth off the stairs.
Lyn pitched the metal pipe away, kicking it into a pile of forgotten construction
materials. She clenched her fists as soon as they started to shake. Her voice
never wavered.

“Really
hoped I wouldn’t have to kill anyone else in my club.” She studied Brew’s body.
“Do I call an ambulance or the coroner?”

Neither
would help us, not if Brew wanted to stay hidden. I ran my hands through the
thickness of his hair, the clammy fear of his skin, and the ugly, raw, bleeding
bruises along his body. He didn’t respond to my touch. I called his name.

Nothing.

If
Rose’s pained cries didn’t wake him, nothing would.

I
raced three thousand miles only to watch as the man I loved died in my arms.

And
I dragged his sister—the only good and pure love of his life—to bleed at his
side.

I
yelped as the quick strike of a hand against my neck held me in a raging grip.
Rose and Lyn shouted, but Brew seized my throat and glared through red-rimmed,
bloodshot eyes. The darkness surged, and he released the gun from behind his
back. It cocked with a steady thumb.

The
bullet fired over my ear, lodging between the eyes of the other bastard who
attempted to kill Brew. The man clutched a dagger aimed for Lyn’s exposed neck.
His body slumped to the floor.

Brew’s
hand tightened. I met his gaze, gripping his remorseless fingers. I couldn’t
speak, couldn’t breathe, and the pounding fear choked me more than his grinding
fingertips. Every inch of me bound tight to fight and run, but the last thing I
wanted was to escape from Brew. Not now that I found him.

I
relaxed and tickled my fingers along his arm. His rasping breath pained my
throat, but he wasn’t badly hurt. He was confused, raging for a war he already
won and enemies he already fought.

And
so I did what came naturally.

I
winked.

Brew’s
vision cleared. The searing promise of his eyes apologized for a lifetime of sin.

He
released me and passed out.

A
blonde goddess with eyes the color of my silver lining knelt over me.

“Brew?”
Martini’s voice wavered with tears she tried to hide. “Are you okay?”

I’d
be a hell of a lot better if she let me up and the room cleared.

The
last time someone hauled me into Sorceress’s basement, Thorne pointed a gun at
my head, Rose confessed my father’s sin, and Keep collapsed against the stairs
twitching for a fix. Lyn hadn’t bothered to stick around for the fireworks.

Not
much changed now. Thorne lined up for a good shot. Rose cried. Keep shook,
rubbing trembling fingers over his shaved head. Lyn claimed the stairs next to
him, surveying the damage.

Martini
didn’t belong here.

“Don’t
get up,” Martini said. “You’re hurt.”

Lyn
tossed her a bottle of water, though the line-drive aimed for my head. Martini
grabbed for it and missed. The bottle rolled under Thorne’s boot.

I
met his gaze. Neither of us was happy to see the other.

Thorne’s
heel came down, a prelude for what he wanted to do to my skull. Rose’s soft
murmur prevented him from smashing the plastic. He kicked the bottle to
Martini, ignoring me as he wove a hand through Rose’s curls and examined the
cut on her face. He kissed her forehead as she assured him she wasn’t hurt.

Martini
offered help, but I grabbed the water and took a swig. The liquid surged up. I choked.
My head ached. I didn’t see the first blow, but I still felt it. And so did the
asshole who hit me. I thought I killed him with a punch to his temple. He survived
that, but the bullet between his eyes would keep him down.

“I’m
all right...” The words rasped into silence. That was fine. I didn’t have
anything good to say.

Martini
hovered too close. “Brew, let me help—”

I
tried to take her hand. She gasped and winced. An ugly, decay-yellow bruise
spread over her hand, snaking up her wrist into deeper hues of green and blue. She
pulled away.

“What
the hell are you doing here?” I asked.

Thorne
didn’t take his eyes from Rose. “Yeah. I’d like a goddamned answer too. Where
the hell is my bike?”

“Thorne,”
Rose said. “This is Martini. Martini, Thorne.”

Martini
perked an eyebrow as she edged between me and the bastard who probably still
carried a bullet reserved for my head. “Charmed.”

Thorne
was never cordial. “Don’t fucking care. What the hell are you doing back, Brew?”

“You
don’t call, you don’t write.” Keep swore from the stairs. “Didn’t tell us you
were in town.”

“Wasn’t
a social visit,” I said.

Lyn
stomped past Keep. My brother didn’t have the balance to stand.

“And
as fantastic as a family reunion is...” Lyn kicked over one of the bodies. The
red stiletto nudged his leather jacket. His shirt rode up. Keep ducked out of
her way as her profanity bit across the room. “
Temple
. Why the
hell
are Temple men trying to kill you in my club!”

“Lost
your friends?” Thorne snickered. Rose elbowed him. He took her arm only to pull
her closer.

Martini
braced me as I sat up. “What happened?”

What
happened? Good fucking question.

She
wanted an answer.

I
had nothing. No explanations. No pride to scrape together a lie, even to shield
myself in denial.

What
happened?

Nothing.

Nothing
happened.

My
gun hadn’t fired. My father hadn’t bled. Twenty-one years of mistakes, deceit,
and betrayal festered deep, rotted my guts from the inside out, and scourged my
every chance at redemption.

I
had the shot. I had the opportunity. I had the memory of the curly haired six-year-old
begging to play me a song on her toy piano while my father kicked the shit out
of my mother upstairs.

But
I didn’t have the courage.

I
wasn’t in Heaven. I wasn’t in Hell. This was limbo. The absolute nothingness
that existed between right, wrong, and vengeance. My father walked free,
without the slightest fear prickling the ice in his heart.

Anathema
made him untouchable. Even the DA didn’t have the balls to go for the death
penalty when they built a strong enough case to drag his ass into a cell. He
kept his secrets, and now that he was out, Anathema’s brothers trusted him, and
Temple’s officers listened to him. His leadership secured both clubs the towns
they chose, drugs they needed, and prices they demanded.

“I
came to find my father,” I said.

Rose
shifted away, edging closer to Thorne. The hot-headed president with more weapons
than patience wrapped his arm tight around her. She relaxed, trapped within the
embrace of a man more medieval warlord than MC president.

“Yeah,
we met Blade upstairs,” Lyn said with a sneer. “Have a nice chat?”

“Sure.
Real illuminating.”

Keep
rubbed his face. Twice. He shook himself out of his stupor and helped me to my
feet.

“You
do it?” He asked.

Rose
couldn’t look at me. Martini wasn’t as demure. Lyn didn’t even pretend.

Christ,
what the hell was I worried about with my conscience? All I needed was their permission
and they’d hand me the razor to slice my veins.

“No.”
I ground my teeth. “Not the right time.”

Thorne
didn’t like my answer, but blood was its own reward. He didn’t often stop to
think of the consequences. “Does Rose gotta get hurt again before you take the
shot?”

Rose
protested, but her forgiveness was instant. I read her like a damned book. She knew
Thorne only meant to protect her. She trusted him.

Like
she should have trusted me.

But
she never would—not if I failed to prove how much I loved her.

Either
the assholes who attacked me punctured my lung, or the shame squeezed every
last ounce of pride from my chest. I shuddered. The spike of my blood pressure
didn’t help. It should have spurted my blood and sprayed it from the gaping
hole in my chest where I ripped out my own heart to save my fucking life.

For
the first time, I was glad Rose had Thorne. At least he’d take care of her.
He’d protect her when I couldn’t and finish me off when I was no more use to
them.

Martini’s
fingers grazed my cheek. The gentle tickle was more like a sucker punch. Every
time I looked at Rose, a cemented failure hardened in my chest. But Martini
chiseled it away.

I
had nothing to offer Rose.

I
had everything to give Martini.

What
the hell was she doing here after I left her broken and alone across the
country?

“I
didn’t kill him.” Standing hurt. I sunk to the ground. “My father is close to
too many people, and they’d look for him if he was gone. It puts Anathema at
risk. Targets Rose.”

Lyn
pointed to the dead men on her floor. “Targets more than Anathema, don’t you
think?”

“Yeah
well, we don’t got many friends to worry about at the moment.”

She
snorted. “Well, you have two less enemies.”

“Why
the hell is Temple after you?” Keep ignored Lyn’s disgust and searched the
men’s pockets. The cigarettes he kept for himself, the wallet he threw to
Thorne.

“Long
story.”

I
figured Martini would smirk and draw the attention away from me. She didn’t
move, only sucked in deep breaths to control her own pain.

“Then
give us the abbreviated version,” Thorne said.

Hell
if I even believed it. “I got in a fight with three MCs who planned on starting
a drug war over a couple cartel style-assassinations.”

“Your
drug war is bleeding on
my
floor.” Lyn tapped her shoe away from a creeping
crimson stain.

“They
know I’m here.”

“Fantastic.”

“You’re
a liability,” Thorne said. “The longer you stay here, the more accidents we
gotta bleach from Lyn’s carpets. Do your only fucking job and get out.”

“I
can’t. My father is protected.” I clenched my jaw as Martini pressed a towel
against the cut on my head. She usually went looking for trouble, but coming
after me was the smartest move she made. She was lucky. I wasn’t about to tell
her the danger she avoided. “He’s got a plan and a hell of a lot of allies. But
if I stay here, Temple’s gonna start fucking with Anathema.”

“You’re
just gonna let him go?” Keep cursed. “Fuck it, I’ll shoot the prick.”

“Please.”
Rose didn’t look up. “It’s over, and I don’t want to think about it anymore.
You guys need to forget about it too.”

I
frowned. “Some things a man can’t forget, Bud.”

“What
if I ask you to try?”

“Ask
me anything else.” I swallowed my pride. “I ain’t gonna beg for a second
chance. He’s living now, but so am I. I’ll take care of this. Just gotta get
Temple off my ass.”

Martini
shuddered. Her breathing unraveled as the minutes passed, like it hurt just to
whimper a quick sigh. My vision cleared enough to see in the basement’s low
light.

And
I didn’t like what I saw.

Her
eye was blackened. The bruise trailed down her neck, covered by nothing. No
scarf. No shirt collar. The ink and its possessive hatred stained her skin. It
was like she didn’t have time to wrap a scarf over her neck.

Like
she escaped so fast she didn’t have time to cover what she was running from.

“You
can’t shake Temple,” she murmured. “And you can’t let your father live.”

The
shudder in her voice tapped a gun barrel against my head. I tried to get her to
look in my eyes. Guilt stopped her. That I understood. But I didn’t expect the
fear or the shame flaring her cheeks.

“Why
are you here, Darling?” I should have said how fucking bad I missed her, but
the confusion growled the question instead. “I thought you were staying with
Red?”

“Your
father has a fifty thousand dollar bounty on your head.”

The
room silenced. Rose’s cry was muffled by Thorne’s hand, clapping over her
mouth.

“What?”
I stared at her. “A bounty? Who told you that?”

“I
was there when Temple’s president told Sacrilege about the bounty.”

There
was more to it than that. Something she kept from me, something that
deliberately hid the truth. But Martini was smoother than the awkward clip of
her words. She was a born liar and tease, but even this she couldn’t spin.
Whatever she saw terrified her enough to drag her ass three thousand miles
across country to find me.

And
not because she wanted me to protect her.

Because
she wanted to rescue me.

“What
the hell happened to you?” I touched the bruise on her cheek. She twisted away.

“Can
we go somewhere and talk?”

Thorne
didn’t apologize for being a Grade-A dick. “No.”

She
ran a hand through her hair. The motion tugged at her shoulders and she winced.
She hardened her expression before I tallied the marks on her skin.

I
counted more bruises than pale softness. The injuries were new.

“Temple
trapped Sacrilege,” she said. “They told Sam they owned the club now, and their
first job was to finish off all the other officers in Kingdom. There’s not much
of a war left, Brew. It’s a slaughter, and we’re next. They’re gonna kill both
of us because we’re the only ones who were at the cottage.”

“Bullshit.”
I spat and rubbed the blood from my lips. A couple punches to the head and
suddenly I was thinking clearer than ever. “It’s not about the cottage. My
father knew I was coming for him to settle the score for Rose. He put the
bounty on my head to make it seem like he was working with Temple. He planned
to kill me before I killed him. He’d cover it up with a drug war to save his
ass and come out the victor with Temple.”