Knight (101 page)

He mind-fucked me, manipulated me, and humiliated me.

And for what?

I wasn’t about to find out. I grabbed the tattered pieces of my shirt and slipped from the bed, jamming my jeans over my thighs and salvaging what shred of pride I might have retained if I hadn’t walked past him to hide in the bathroom.

The door slammed behind me, but I crumbled before the vanity. I didn’t know what I’d find if I looked in the mirror. No one I would have recognized. Or maybe the same goddamned woman who stared at me every night, asking the same fucking questions Brew bled from me.

Whatever I thought I’d get from Brew, whatever pleasure I hoped I’d earn from the grip of his hand against my throat or the sting of his hand against my ass, was exactly what got me into trouble in the first place. The worst part was that I knew it.

And the sickest part was that I actually
did
trust Brew. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t push too far or take more than I gave. I thought that, for once, I could get what I wanted without hurting myself.

He was right—about everything. I was trapped in my own cycle of violence. I seduced trouble and denied the consequences.

It ended now. No more mistakes. No more dangerous men and dangerous bedrooms.

Brew used me, humiliated me, and tried to destroy my pride. And it might have worked, but I didn’t fall apart that easily. Not anymore.

I was done with him and every other menace in my life. Goliath could find a new girl to beat, Sacrilege could bail themselves out, and Brew…

I wished I didn’t care about him.

It was just another mistake I had to fix.

And I wasn’t about to make another one.

The first time I deserved to die, Thorne didn’t pull the trigger.

The second time felt worse.

I opened my goddamned mouth and did more damage to Martini than if I cracked her head off the wall and kicked her around the room.

I got hard pinning her down. I attacked her, ripped her clothes, and tossed her onto her knees like a damned whore. I was only seconds from burying myself balls deep in her, and I didn’t even check to make sure I wasn’t terrifying her.

I wasn’t just a monster.

I was a fucking idiot.

I had a beautiful woman—the most beautiful woman I had ever fucking seen—bent over a bed, wiggling her perfect ass, begging for everything my cock could give her and more, and I ruined it.

I ruined
her
.

She mewed as she had clawed at my arms. Her silvered eyes widened with desire. She was the sexiest woman I had ever touched, and, to make it worse, she had
wanted
me.

All of me. My cock. My strength. My power as I drove her into the mattress again and again. I would have erupted inside her with a victorious thrust so hard she would have remembered it every fucking time she tried to sit the next day.

She gave herself to me.
Submitted
to me. Like she trusted me whether we sped away from firefights or while holding my hand exploring a murder scene.

Martini wasn’t afraid of me.

But goddamned if I wasn’t afraid of her.

Martini didn’t hide her submission, but she picked risky guys and even riskier situations. A crush on one of the bad boys in her town trapped her with a psychopath who scarred his name into her perfect skin. She hopped into the wrong beds and suffered the consequences.

And that’s why she liked me.

I had hoped she thought I was someone who could protect her, keep her safe, and not leave her sobbing in a bathroom. But I wasn’t stupid.

The bike. The jacket. The ink. That was only part of what got her off. She saw what I tried to hide.

The evil festering in my blood brimmed to the surface. I was dark, and my nature might have enticed someone looking for danger. She didn’t know the truth. I was my father’s son.

Blade Darnell tossed his women around too. Bent them over and rode them like a fucking Harley in the middle of Anathema’s clubhouse while Rose tried to study in the bar’s offices, hands plugged in her ears and doors locked to hide from the drunken bikers.

I never knew I had locked the wrong door.

Bad blood created more bad blood. I wasn’t the sexy dominant lover Martini read in some whip and paddle book. I never forced a woman to bed before, but that didn’t mean I ever gave a fuck and respected one. I used them and showed them off as someone cute to throw on my bike and share with my club.

Martini was at her most vulnerable, and I insulted her. I made her think everything she did and everything she liked was her own perversion.

I made her believe it was
her
fault Goliath beat on her.

I hurt us both because I couldn’t stand the truth.

My father deserved to die. Every sick and twisted sin he committed revealed to me like a punch to the gut. When Thorne’s bullet hit the ground instead of my head, I earned a second chance to bring my father to Anathema’s brand of justice. I swore then I would never become him.

And my first temptation, I failed.

I’d never trust myself around Martini. Giving in to her would break me. Taking her the way she needed me to take her would infect us with the same poison that made my father the demon he was.

Exile wasn’t enough to prevent that corruption.

Martini’s bus left in the morning. It wasn’t a glamorous trip, but a greyhound rode smoother than a hearse. I’d throw her on, bribe the driver a grand to make sure she stayed in her seat until Pittsburgh, and hope she’d have the common sense to let her cousin shelter her while I lured Temple away from yet another woman I hurt.

I had nowhere to go and nothing to drink. But getting drunk wouldn’t fix what I said to Martini. It wouldn’t get rid of my hard-on, and it wouldn’t protect us for when Temple or Kingdom finally paid the right people and started looking in the right places for us. I had to get out of the room.

The hotel was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by more interstate than genuine business. I stalked outside, hunkering down in the shadows like a mangy dog. Probably where I belonged. I watched the parking lot and studied the vehicles parked under the flickering lights.

I wasn’t a good man, but protecting Martini wasn’t about being good or wicked—it was about doing what was right. A cold shower and a few harsh words was a better fate than what could have happened to her.

My phone vibrated in my vest. I glanced at the screen.

Keep.

The night kept getting worse. I doubted my brother had anything good to report, but at least he was conscious enough to dial the phone. I answered with a grunt.

“What, Keep?”

The hesitant, hitched breath wasn’t my brother. No one in the family was ever that gentle.

The night hit rock bottom, dug around a little, then waited for a rainstorm to muddy up its grave.

“Brew?” Rose was the blade to my wrist, the noose around my neck, and the bullet to my head. My hand curled over the phone.

If I crushed it, I wouldn’t have to say hello.

If I yelled at her, I wouldn’t have to tell her how goddamned relieved I was to hear her voice.

“What the hell are you doing calling me?” My words bit harsher than I meant, but I never learned how to hold a normal conversation with her. “Why do you have Keep’s phone?”

“I took it. It was the only way to get you to answer.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Pixie.”

“Alone?”

I hated that her tone shifted from sweet and hopeful to the same dark and jaded edge that the Darnells perfected. She huffed.

“I’m in the office, but Thorne’s out at the bar. With Scotch. And Gold.”

She rolled her eyes. I heard it in her voice, waiting for me to accuse her of being a smartass for naming all the men in the bar.

“Reaper came in a while ago, but he left with Ace and Tanner. A couple of girls from Sorceress came down too—Molly and Porsche. Delivering money for Lyn’s security...”

“I get it. Why the hell are you calling me?”

“Because you haven’t answered any of my texts or emails.”

“I told you I was on the road, Bud.”

I knew she’d flinch at the nickname, but after twenty-one years, it was a hard habit to break. Especially since it was my handle for her. But Dad happened to use it too. Back then, I didn’t understand why she hated it.

Now I got it.

Still, Bud was a hell of a lot better than anything Thorne called her. The jackass tone when he teased his
sweetheart
. She melted for it.

“So you can’t even
text
?” She said.

“A lot of shit is going on here. I can’t talk now.”

“Fine.” Her voice hardened. “Never mind.”

Jesus
Christ
. The mistakes piled up. Taking jobs for beheaded MCs, trafficking women, giving Rose my goddamned phone number.

“What do you want?”

I imagined she straightened up and lifted her chin. She often pretended she could scratch with more than kitten claws and a tiny hiss. That’s why I loved her. She didn’t fit with Anathema.

“Why did half of Anathema escort me to my classes today?”

“What?” I spared her a smile. “You don’t like the star treatment?”

She didn’t buy it. “Last semester, Thorne met my English lit professor. On the final, I forgot to answer an entire essay question on the back of the exam. I still got an A+.”

“You always were the brains in the family.”

“I’d like to earn my grades, not have them beaten out of the department.”

I thought I taught her that lesson. “You gotta take the breaks you can get, Bud.”

She huffed. “Keep is hanging around me again.”

“What do you mean
again
.”

“Come on, Brew. You aren’t the only brother I had a hard time reaching.”

I’d beat Keep’s ass if the drugs didn’t kill him first. I stayed silent. She expected it.

“I’m going to my classes with escorts, Keep has his eye on me when he’s not high, and now Thorne is scheduling a meeting with
Knight
.”

“Rose, don’t worry about it.”

“What’s happening? It’s starting to look like...” She hesitated. My blood ran cold at just the slightest tremor in her voice. “Like when Ex was alive.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna hurt you, Bud. I can’t do much, but I can promise you that.”

“But—”

“I got it under control. You just focus on your music and your classes, got me?”

“Um—” Her hand covered the phone while she whispered a conversation with someone else. She returned with an apology. “Wait. He wants to talk to you.”

The phone shifted. I doubted Keep would have anything useful to say—if he was even in a condition to talk. I held back my profanity.

“You finally decided to take care of her?”

The grunt from the other end was not my brother.

“I’ve been taking real good care of Rose. I don’t like that tone of yours.”

Of all the psychopathic bastards in the club, Rose handed the phone to Thorne. My jaw clenched so hard it popped.

“The hell do you want?” I said.

He sounded just as dangerous three thousand miles away. “Why are you calling half my club?”

I snorted. “Rose called
me
. Maybe if you get her under control, you wouldn’t be playing phone tag with a dead man.”

“I got her a plan with unlimited minutes. International calls include Hell. Or Pittsburgh. Same place.”

“This got a point?”

Thorne’s voice hardened like the clicking of a safety off a gun. “I got Temple buzzing around the area, spreading some damning rumors. The men are starting to talk, wondering what the hell has got Temple so aggravated.”

“Rose says you got a meeting with Knight. Ask Luke what’s going on.”

“No need. I got you. From what I remember, you were pretty cozy with Temple.”

“I’m taking care of it.”

“You better.” He wasn’t playing, even with Rose telling him to back off. “We got enough shit over here with the Coup. I can’t handle a war with Temple, not after your deal fell apart. They’re pointing their guns at Anathema.”

I hated myself for thinking it. The words soured on my tongue. “They still got my father whispering in their ear. They won’t move on Anathema. Not while Blade is still the rightful VP.”

“And how much longer will he get to wear that patch?”

My words cut deeper than his. “Not much longer now.”

“Good,” Thorne said. “I’ll give your sister a kiss for you.”

“Son of a bitch—”

The call ended. Just what I fucking needed. Rose upset, and Thorne doing damage control the same way he always did—blood for blood.

I couldn’t do shit about Temple, not while I hid halfway across the country, and not while Knight still made deals with them without Anathema. Taking out three of Temple’s members on the road was the cost of doing business. It’d piss them off, but the men all understood the daily danger.

But killing Blade Darnell? A man who controlled Anathema and The Coup and promised a lifetime of territory and money to Temple? That was an inconvenience worthy of vengeance.

Anathema stood in Temple’s way once before, but losing me wasn’t as important as keeping the trade viable and letting my father call the shots from his protected cell.