Knight (39 page)

“Yes.”

“On one leg?”

I’d rip the damn thing off if it meant I could better protect Luke. “I’ll hop if it makes you happy.”

“I can’t fit both you and your delusions on my bike.”

“It’s easier to seat than your fucking idealism.”

He approached the bed, sitting in the chair opposite me just to take my hand and kiss my fingers and brush the hair from my face.

I wasn’t in the mood to be pampered. We needed to run.

“You’d give up Sorceress?” He asked.

“In a heartbeat. We’ll get somewhere safe.”

His smile used to slay anyone unprepared. It still pierced me, but not for the right reasons.

I wouldn’t let him surrender.

“I fucking love you,” he said. “But you and I? We’re not runners. We don’t make the best choices, and we dig into our decisions.”

My chest squeezed. “You’re going to stay.”

“We were close to peace, Lyn. Still are. This war has to end. We gotta be ready for whatever Temple’s survivors do. I’ll meet with the men.”

“Their president could be dying.”

“That’s why I’ll talk. Make amends. We need these men unified before the worst happens. It ends now, Lyn. And if I answer for it, at least it’s done.”

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“If I live will you forgive me? Finally? After this goddamned year?”

I pulled him close, savoring a kiss that warmed everything exposed, swollen, and throbbing—and not in the good way.

“If you live, I’ll work on it.”

He stood. I bundled the blanket and tried to follow. The damn brace prevented me from escaping the bed.

“You’re not coming,” he said.

Did he know me at all? “You need backup. Rose won’t be able to do it on her own, and Brew’s appearance will just stir up shit. Let me help.”

“You can’t walk.”

I hobbled out of the bed and pointed to the robe folded on the counter. It was thin, faded, and a horrible blue, but it covered my ass, which wasn’t something I normally did around the guys.

First time for everything.

Luke muttered something he’d regret, but he darted to the hall and returned with a wheelchair. “I’m the one facing a firing squad. Sit your ass in the chair.”

I smirked. “I kinda like it when you get tough with me.”

“And that’s enough morphine for you too.”

He guided my leg into the chair, raising it up before the pain swung around and threatened to knock me out. He kissed me.

“You sure about this?” I whispered.

“Yeah. It’s time.”

I disagreed, but the chair already rolled to the elevator and down a floor. It opened, and the sea of mint green walls led us to the waiting room.

It wouldn’t look good splattered with blood.

The cluster of Anathema men shaded the tiny room in leather and misery. Brew’s arrival clustered them around the walking, talking ghost. Gold was the first to envelop him in a fierce hug, slamming a hand against his back as he welcomed him from the grave. Reaper and Ace followed, though the room quieted when Brew asked about Scotch.

And they silenced as Luke stepped inside.

Rose gripped Brew’s hand. She stepped forward to speak.

Luke beat her to it.

“How is he?” He gently positioned my wheelchair. I refused to sit in it, choosing to haul myself into the seat next to Martini for this show. “Did we hear anything yet?”

“Heard a lot of shit.” Gold’s voice pulled the pin on the grenade. I waited for the explosion. “Heard you went in alone. Heard you were the one to drag him out.”

“I didn’t stab Thorne.”

“Yeah. One of your men did.”

Luke didn’t have much of a defense covered in Thorne’s blood, but he tried.

“I tried to stop it,” he said. “Lash stabbed him. I got there too late. Believe me when I say I did everything I could to help him, including nearly running down three federal agents to get him to the hospital.”

Reaper glowered, fucking terrifying without Grim to mellow him. “Did you know Brew was alive?”

Brew answered that, quietly, with every authority in his voice his position once earned. “No. That was our business.”

Gold grunted. “Why?”

“I was seventeen years old and I handed Blade a baby to raise for me,” Brew said. “No one knew she was mine. I didn’t even tell Keep she was my daughter. But Blade hurt her, and I wanted to kill him.”

“Jesus.” Ace crashed into a chair. “What the fuck is happening to this club. Killing fucking VPs? Goddamned exiles? No one told us any of this shit.”

“There’s more.” Luke earned the wrong kind of attention from the men. “Blade was a rat. He worked with ATF. He squealed on Temple, but who the fuck knows what he said about Anathema.”

The club silenced. Splintered.

I saw it fracturing. Just like Thorne warned so many months ago. The brothers that remained where hardly whole, still traumatized and vengeful for the ones they lost and the battles they fought against their own brothers.

It took only a few deaths, a little blood, and all other secrets to rend it from the inside. With Thorne hurt, the heart of the club ceased beating. And in its wake, secrets and lies and every shred of doubt took hold.

Anathema would fall apart.

But only if we let it.

Luke spoke, glancing over the guys. “This year has destroyed the Valley, the club, and too many lives. I’ll be the first to admit it. I made mistakes. I followed the wrong instincts. Men paid for my sins.”

He hadn’t washed the blood from him, and I was glad he hadn’t. With that crimson splash and Brew at his side, Luke offered the men a dose of realism. It wasn’t noble. It wasn’t based on fantasy or impractical optimism.

He spoke the truth. Just as the world was, not how we could fix it.

“We need to join together,” he said. “We won’t survive without each other. This world wasn’t made for men like us. We take what we can get, and we make the rest. Blood unites this brotherhood. And too much of it has spilled for the wrong reasons. For selfish reasons. For mistakes that should never have threatened what was so strong to begin with.”

“You think he’s gonna die?” Keep asked. His voice cracked. He claimed a seat next to Rose and trembled. Chilled. Uncontrolled. I didn’t know when his last hit was, but he sure as hell remembered.

Luke frowned. “Thorne is too tough of a son of a bitch. He’s not going anywhere. But neither are we. When he wakes, this club will be unified. No matter what it takes, no matter who has to pay for what happened. Anathema will be whole and healed and ready for
our
president to take command.”

The men heard his declaration of loyalty. An abdication of his own position as a member of The Coup.

It was probably the only thing that saved his life.

That, and Rose’s hug.

The queen reigned with the gentleness no one in Anathema deserved, but everybody longed to experience. She tamed Thorne, and she’d do the same for the rest of the men.
All
the men. Including the man who left, the man who betrayed, and the man who asked for forgiveness.

For the first time in a year, a genuine peace settled over the club. Luke sat next to me, taking my hand and waiting, just like the rest of Thorne’s men, just like a member of Anathema waiting for news of his president.

The guns rested. No threats were made. They didn’t need to. The greatest fear, the worst pain was yet to come.

Four hours we waited.

Finally, the doctor approached, eying the men in the cuts and looking relieved when Rose rushed forward to speak to him. He offered her a smile, patted her hand, and gave us hope.

“It’s rough,” he said. “But I think he’ll survive.”

So would Anathema.

So would Luke.

And so would we.

Five Months Later

Front and center to the stage, and, for once, it wasn’t a gallows set for my neck.

The lights dimmed low. I had enough crimson in my life, but the stage glowed in a furious red more sexy than sinister. Thrumming music with a deep-seeded base rocked against the renovated stage, lights, walls. It was the third time Sorceress had a makeover.

I liked it.

Especially now that the star had returned.

And Lyn wasn’t afraid to return to the silks and conquer what had pinned her in a full-leg cast for four—
exceedingly
long—months.

The men hooted as the lights flashed, and a single,
beautiful
figure posed on the stage. It didn’t take much for me to harden for her, but the thigh-high boots and red thong were enough.

But she also wore a cut tonight.

And it was mine.

The leather hugged snug and tight around her swelling tits. That Anathema VP patch was still cocaine white and pristine over her curves.

The music swelled. Lyn’s steps slammed her heels against the stage in rhythm to the beat. Not a limp grazed her perfect legs, and she defied anyone watching to judge her for a weakness only I knew she still hid.

The silks glistened on the stage, and Lyn’s pale skin and golden hair wrapped within the crimson like a sultry cocoon. The men hooted. Brew reached over the table, hiding Rose’s eyes. She batted him away, giggling as Martini settled in his lap and whistled, waving a handful of money towards the dancer.

“How long until you get up there?” Thorne entertained Rose with a kiss.

Rose snorted, biting her lip. “Let me wear your cut, and I’ll scurry on up there.”

“I’m not Lancelot, sweetheart.” He eyed me, a subtle nod for abdicating the role as soon as his stitches healed, lung re-inflated, and he could stand-up straight. “Cut stays on me. But you’re more than welcomed to wear the thong.”

“Hey.” Brew pointed across the table. “Careful with my daughter.”

Rose grinned. “Thanks,
Dad
.”

I ignored the bickering. Hard not to when the most beautiful woman in the damned world tangled herself in silk as she twisted, gyrated, curled with an unbelievable strength. She exposed every seductive curve of her body.

I should have been jealous, but this show was for me.

Lyn knotted herself in the silks, unbuttoning the cut. Enough of her breast revealed to tease the men. She twirled fifteen feet in the air, widening her legs and twisting just right. It gave the guys another show of that perfect ass.

I earned compliments for her. I accepted them too, even though Lyn pretended she hated it.

The music lowered to a quick, hardened beat. Lyn coiled and played in the silk. Every stroke of her hands along the material became a perfect tease to the men who could look but never touch.

All this time, I thought she’d hate being patched, but Lyn found her own uses for it. Primarily in teasing, tempting, and transfixing every man who dared to get ensnared. The silks weren’t just a trick. They were a web.

And I was the son of a bitch bound the tightest.

Couldn’t have been happier.

The music cresendo’d, and Lyn sped down the silks, unraveling ten feet before depositing her without so much as a stumble onto the stage.

The lights brightened, and those lovely legs stalked to the end of the catwalk. She accepted the whistles and hoots of her patrons, snapping a finger and calling the rest of her girls to the poles, the stage, the bar. Belly shots and music roared.

Just the type of party Keep would have wanted, but, according to Rose’s text, he was clean, at home, and resisting temptation. Hadn’t earned his officer patch back, but it was a start.

Anathema launched into a full-scale bash, and Lyn strutted off the stage directly into my lap.

“Hey, no fair!” Grim extended his arms. “How come he gets a free dance?”

I snorted. “This ain’t free. You never see how I have to pay for it.”

Lyn’s cherry-bomb red lips hummed. “Only Luke can handle the extras that come with it.”

She ground against my cock, purring as she knew how uncomfortable it was digging against the zipper. Just meant she swirled a little harder, running her fingers over my shoulder, behind my neck, and shimmying close until I got drunk on the sweet violet scent of her mixed with the roughened leather.

Her lips pressed against my ear.

“I need you.”

I lived for the quiver in her voice.

“Don’t think that comes with the dance, Princess.”

“My club, my rules.”

That it was. Lyn moved with absolute grace, even when hopping off a man’s lap and twisting her hand into mine to follow. Anathema hollered. I gave a shrug.

“Ladies’ choice,” I said. “Sorry, guys.”

Lyn chose the VIP room with a door. She winked at the bouncer and dismissed him. I claimed the sofa. She was on me in seconds.

“How’s the leg?” I whispered.

Her nails dug into my shirt, scratching to my jeans. She flipped the button and yanked at my belt. She didn’t answer the question. Her hands wrapped around my cock instead.

“Good enough.” She pumped me twice, and I nearly exploded in her waiting grasp. “Wanna test it out?”

“You up to it?”

Her kiss sealed against me with a stroke of her tongue and the squeeze of her hand. I gripped the swell of her hips as she guided herself over me. Lyn didn’t bother taking the thong off.