Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (30 page)

“Are
you sure?” Keep squinted. “Dad’s smart, but to use Temple to fuck you?”

“He’s
the reason Temple and Kingdom are at war. Temple had Kingdom under
surveillance, and Kingdom was wise to it. That’s why they hired me to do the
drops between them and Sacrilege. But Dad must have recognized me.”

That
was why the envelope of money at the cottage had my name written on it. The
money wasn’t a payment or a bribe. It was a warning I didn’t heed.

“And
now he wants you dead,” Thorne said. “And he’ll fuck Anathema to do it.”

Rose
bit her lip. “He almost did it too. You might have died.”

Lyn
snorted. “Brew’s like a goddamned cat. Only seven more lives to go.”

Martini
silenced them with a short-lived sob. She hated the tears. So did I.

“I’m
so sorry,” Martini said. “I came as fast as I could. But...I got...Goliath
was...”

I
didn’t want to ask it. I already knew.

“What
happened to you?”

Martini
didn’t let the truth shame her. I wished I was as strong.

“Goliath
found me.”

And
I wished I were brave enough to hear the rest.

“He
took me home, but Temple stormed my bar and held Red hostage. We escaped, and I
might have burned down my bar. I’m not sure if I killed Toviel Aren.”

Thorne
handed Rose off to Keep and paced the room, his hands alternating between his
hair and his gun. “You think you
killed
the president of Temple MC?”

“He
took a shotgun blast to the chest, but he was still living when I torched him
with a Molotov and a bottle of Everclear.”

“Jesus
fucking
Christ!”

Lyn
laughed, her green eyes glistening with a serpentine glee. “I like this girl,
Brew. She can take care of herself.”

Martini
didn’t share the proud smile. She never spoke the full truth in her life. Now
was a shitty time to start. I’d take a thousand of her little white lies over
her honesty now.

“What
happened when Goliath found you?” I whispered.

Martini
didn’t meet my gaze. She shifted against the floor. Uncomfortable.

No.

Hurt
.

Rose
breathed out first. She tugged on Thorne’s arm. A signal to give us privacy.
She knew.

I
couldn’t be alone with this confession. I didn’t trust myself to handle it.

“Did
he hurt you?” I asked.

Martini’s
act wasn’t convincing. “I can take care of myself. I did take the express route
down the stairs though. That wasn’t fun.”

It
wasn’t what I asked. “What did he do to you?”

“God,
I need a drink.” Her laugh sounded more like a whimper. “Can I get you anything—”

I
reached for her. She let me cup her cheek if only to focus on me and not the
others in the room.

“Darlin’—”

“You
already know. Why torture yourself?”

“Tell
me.”

“It’s
not the same, Brew. Don’t you dare blame yourself—”

“
Tell
me
.”

She
shed only one tear before masking her expression again. Not for the benefit of
Rose or Thorne, my panicking brother, or the pacing Lyn. She tried to spare me
from the truth and her fear and her pain.

She
guarded me even though I failed to protect her.

“He
raped me, Brew.”

Where
was the gun against my head now? The rope around my neck? The poison rotting my
gut?

She
didn’t fight me. I lifted the back of her shirt. A crisscross of heavy-handed
welts and bruises tore at her flesh.

A
belt. A fucking
belt
.

“I’m
fine,” she said. “I don’t care about what happens to me.”

“I
do.”

“My
only concern was to find you.”

“And
mine should have been to help you.”

The
honesty destroyed me. Rose sat only a few feet from me, tears on her cheeks.
The absolute
compassion
and
understanding
resonating from the broken
innocence of her gaze was just another slice of the blade in my heart.

I
owed Rose everything—a lifetime of happiness, the promise of security, and the
haunted, horrible moments of her past replaced with love.

But
I couldn’t give her those things. Thorne got closer to her than she ever was
with me, and his honesty and devotion were uncompromised. She wasn’t mine to
protect anymore.

The
one who needed me most knelt bruised and violated at my side, cleaning
my
wounds with a damp towel.

“I’m
sorry.” There wasn’t much else to say, but nothing sounded so useless.

“I
know.”

I
sucked in a breath. My lungs refused it until her hand grazed mine. I didn’t
deserve the touch.

“It
ends now,” I said. “My father. The connection with Temple. Everything that has
destroyed us and the club is because of him. It’s time for justice.”

“Brew.”
Rose shook her head. “You can’t. Those men almost killed you. And if you stay
here any longer, they will. You have to leave.”

I
grunted as I stood. “Not until this is done.”

“Well,
I don’t want it to be done.” She parted from Thorne and squared off against me
again, just like she did from the day she learned to talk to the last time I
pushed her away. “Not if it means putting you in any more danger.”

“You
won’t be safe if he lives.”

“I
wasn’t the one getting pummeled, Brew.
You
were.”

I
swore. “What the hell were you doing here anyway?”

“Saving
your life!”

“My
life isn’t for you to save.”

Rose
frowned. “Well, someone has to stop you from throwing it away all the damn
time.”

“Thorne,
take her home,” I said. “She shouldn’t be around for this.”

She
shook off his arm. “Would you just listen to me?”

 “Don’t
have to.” The girl scared the ever-loving fuck out of me, and I wasn’t about to
let her see me crumble. “I do what’s best for you, Rose. Always have. Always
will.”

“Oh
my God, Brew. Listen to yourself. I don’t need you to kill for me. I need you
to stay alive. Just talk to me and listen to my music and give me a hug every
once in a while. Be a
normal
brother, for once in my life. I just want
my big brother!”

“For
Christ’s sake, Rose, I’m not your fucking
brother
!”

I
said it before I realized what happened.

The
snap of all goddamned common sense recoiled in my brain. It was a shot that
should never have been fired, and a secret I never meant to reveal.

Martini’s
hand drew away. Keep stared, his pupils blown with confusion instead of
whatever poison he chose for the night.

“
What
?”
Rose whispered.

“You
heard me.”

“I
don’t understand.”

Thorne
swore. His scowl only upset Rose more. “Jesus Christ. How many fucking secrets does
this family have?”

Rose’s
eyes—innocent, wide, and the same damn color and depth I shared—filled with
tears.

“You’re
not my sister.” I hadn’t admitted the truth for twenty-one years. “You’re my
daughter.”

“I
can’t deal with this right now.”

It
was all Rose said.

I
poured my fucking heart out, scraped the secrets from my soul and the lies from
my past, and
she
couldn’t deal.

I
sat, bleeding and sweating, broken and shuddering, with twenty-one goddamned years
of adrenaline surging through me, and she didn’t even look at me.

Neither
did my brother, staring at me in the first lucid moment he caught in three
months.

Keep
didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t the haze of the drugs causing it.

I
didn’t recognize myself.

Rose
stormed upstairs before Thorne grabbed her. Lyn followed, cursing every last
man who wore an Anathema patch.

Rose
didn’t want me.

Her
entire life was nothing but a series of beatings, abuse, and negligence. Her
mother—a twenty-something druggie piece of ass I tapped as a teenager—never
wanted her. I thought what I did was right. I kept her, but then I threw her
aside too.

Rose
grew up begging for me to listen and protect and love her, as if I didn’t think
of her as the piece of my heart beating outside of my body. I never thought I
could love as much as I loved that girl, and I hated myself for letting her go
that long without realizing it.

She
didn’t want me.

I
ruined her.

Keep’s
hand trembled more than it should. It’d either punch through the wall or shatter
to pieces, depending on how quick the drugs wore off. He didn’t swear. His own
brand of dispassionate indifference struck harder than if he hauled off and hit
me.

“Pixie’s
empty,” he said. “Rose and Thorne stay at his house. Reaper won’t notice if you
spend the night. I’ll keep the guys out of the suites.”

“I’ll
find somewhere on my own.”

“Temple
ain’t getting into Pixie.” Keep nodded to Martini. “Make him follow. I’ll hide his
bike in the warehouse and call Gold to, uh, help clean up here.”

Martini
tugged on my arm. The darkness under her eyes wasn’t just where Goliath beat
her senseless. She was exhausted.

But
she still reassured me.

I caused
Rose misery and destroyed myself in the secret. And now? My only salvation
limped on busted knees and winced against the welts that thrashed her skin.

Martini
was my second chance. I was supposed to keep her safe.

And
Jesus Christ, I was so goddamned in love with her that the thought of anyone hurting
her was more painful than a blade in my side.

Keep
delivered us to Pixie, but the club abandoned my old room. The converted spaces
above the bar served the officers, but not traitors. My brother snuck us into
Thorne’s suite, talking only to Martini as whatever withdrawal kicking his ass
suddenly twisted his temper.

Or
maybe he was sober and his anger was legit. I hadn’t just lied to Rose. I never
told Keep.

My
brother, my best goddamned friend, was too heavy into binges and too often in trouble
when Becky called me up, pregnant and inconvenienced. Keep wasn’t able to help
himself then, and bailing his ass from juvy was a waste of time. So I didn’t
tell him. Or the MC. Or anyone.

Except
my father.

The
man I trusted to raise her.

Martini
sat on the edge of Thorne’s bed, the same place I damned Rose when she drew The
Coup’s attention and needed the protection of a warlord, not her brother.

Father
.

God.
Admitting it was the truth, but it didn’t sound right. I paced. A ragged breath
dragged through my body and suffocated me in frustration.

“How
did it happen?” Martini asked.

I snorted.
“You know damn well how accidents happen.”

“Was
Rose an accident?”

“I
was seventeen years old and on my way to jail. She’s the very definition of an
accident.”

“And
now? Do you still feel that way?”

I
gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

Martini
flinched. “Really?”

I
waved over the room, over Pixie, over everything that was Anathema. She
wouldn’t understand all it encompassed. That was fine. Neither did I anymore.

“Look
at the life she’s had. The shit she dealt with. The fucking scars she has.
She’s in fucking therapy because it’s easier for her to talk to a goddamned
stranger than it was to tell me. She was more afraid of my reaction than of
what Dad did to her.”

“But
she’s Rose.” Martini’s simple declaration defeated my choking rage. “She’s
your...yours. She’s upset. She’s not sure how to react to that bombshell.” She shrugged.
“I don’t think you do either.”

“What
the hell do I matter? I fucked everything up.”

“She’s
okay, Brew.”

“I
wasn’t in love with her mother. I hardly even knew Becky. She was a quick
fling. Hell, I had to pay her off so she didn’t get an abortion. I asked my parents
to take the baby while I was in jail. I thought they’d be better for her than
me. I was a convicted felon and a clueless kid. I trusted them.”

“You
had no idea what Blade would do to her.”

“My
mother loved her, but she was like Keep. She self-medicated and reached for a
needle when the world got too real and little girls cried too much.” I tangled
my hands in my hair. I wished I crushed my skull. “I didn’t meet Rose until she
was four. She was probably broken by then.”

“You
didn’t break her.”

“Then
she broke me.”

Martini’s
words were too gentle. “She would have done that anyway.”

I avoided
looking at her. My breathing strained my chest. “Did I break you?”

She
tried to hide the pain. Nothing I could do about it. Not now. But she offered
me a sweetness and treated me to the truth.

“I’m
a bit shaken,” she said. “Probably stirred too. But I don’t crack.”

“It
wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“I
know.”

Thorne
covered his old room with Anathema decals and memorabilia. The scarred demon
stared at me from the shadows. Once, I lived with those demons. I rode in a formation
of utter arrogance. Money was made, women bent over, and every rational person
in earshot of our thundering bikes cleared out before Anathema bloodied the
streets.

I
didn’t belong here anymore.

I
wasn’t sure I belonged anywhere.

Martini
shifted. Her gaze also fell to the emblems on the walls, the faded print on the
blanket tossed over the bed. Everything Anathema. Everything that used to bleed
into my skin now leeched out. Nothing to stop it. Nothing to hide it.

“I’m
sorry, Brew.” Martini picked at the blanket, those silver eyes dulled with her
own sorrow. “I didn’t mean to just show up, but the thought of you getting
hurt...”

“You
saved my life.”

Her
eyebrow perked. “It was Rose who attacked him like a rabid dog.”

“I
taught her how to fight.”

“Of
course you did.” She looked away. “God, I was so worried you had died. I
couldn’t imagine…”

“I’m
not dead.”

“You
probably think this is another trick. Or that I’m manipulating you.”

Of
all the shit I didn’t want to deal with, Martini’s apology topped the list. I
didn’t deserve her apology. Not when I needed to earn her forgiveness.

“Stop,”
I said. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“It
does.” She held my gaze. “Because it’s true. I did manipulate you. When you
hauled me on your bike to take me to Kingdom, I panicked. But I saw your
sadness. Something was eating away at your soul, and I capitalized on it to
keep me safe, not to help you.”

“Darling—”

“I
wanted to get out of Sacrilege. I wanted to run from Kingdom.” She flushed. “I
wanted to give into you because...it’s what I did with dangerous men.”

“You
don’t have to do this.”

“I
swear, I was gonna run with you, Brew. I was gonna help you and be with you and
share…” She groaned. “I’m not the type of girl who
makes love
. What we
did...wasn’t that. It was more. It meant more.”

“Martini.”

“Maybe
I started out I was using you to save my ass, but not now.”

“Stop
apologizing.”

“When
Goliath grabbed me—”

“Jesus
Christ. I can’t listen to this.”

“—I
thought I could just pretend and let it happen. Because I did it before. I
survived before.”

Martini
wasn’t the sadist in the room, but she tore me to pieces and left me begging
for a mercy that would never come. I didn’t want to hear about it. I didn’t
want to think about it. I missed the chance to save her from a hell she didn’t
deserve.

Again.

“It
wasn’t Goliath that terrified me,” she said. “It was Temple. The bounty. The
thought that you were going home only to walk into a trap. I had to find you.
Even if you hated me.”

“What
the hell do you want with me?”

Those
silver eyes shimmered. “I want you to stop blaming yourself.”

“How?”

“It
wasn’t you who hurt me.”

“I
wasn’t there to stop it.”

“But
you’re here now.” The hardness in her voice cracked. She wielded confidence
like armor, but it shattered the longer she hesitated. She stared at me as if I
would ever dare to resist the shimmer of silver in her eyes. “Right?”

I
didn’t waste any fucking words, not when I already wasted enough time.

I
took her in my arms, crushed her against my chest, and claimed what was mine
without the lash of guilt or the sting of shame. Her arms wove around my neck.
She pulled closer, pressing her every curve into my embrace, just like when I
tasted her, possessed her, and tortured myself with thoughts too dark for the
beautiful goddess delivering me the pleasure of her gifted body.

Her
kiss whimpered over my lips, and every muscle in my body tensed at the soft, delicate
sound. She clung to me, groaning as my hand snaked to her hair, reflexively
pinning her.

Holding
her. Owning her.

It
was the only way I knew to take a woman.

It
was the only way she knew how to be taken.

The
desires we tempted destroyed us for the rest of the world. The last time she
gave herself, I fought every goddamned urge I had to seize what belonged to me.
Martini hadn’t possessed an ounce of control that night.

Everything
I fought, I battled against my own crippled courage.

Everything
I wanted, I bargained against my healing confidence.

Every
pleasure I earned, I stole from my lost, broken, and
lonely
body.

Martini
thought she could make a deal with the devil and choose her own terms, but my needs
didn’t get negotiated. I didn’t hold her down. I didn’t tie her hands. Her own
lust bound her. Sealed her against me. Offered me everything I hunted and
nothing I dared to take while my thoughts swirled in the darkness and guilt.

Not
anymore.

I
wove my hand over her back. Her flinch rent my mind and fired my blood in
murderous rage.

She
was hurt.

He
hurt her.

I
still didn’t know how bad. Martini shook her head, still kissing me, brushing
her lips over my chin, my cheek, my neck.

“I’m
okay.” She melted, healing more from my touch than any care to her bruises. “I
just need you.”

“Let
me see.”

Her
whisper wavered. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Let
me see.”

“Promise
me.”

I
stilled. “Promise what?”

“You
left with only two words from Rose.” She brushed a hand along my cheek.
“Crossed the country for your vengeance without thinking of the danger.”