Knight (51 page)

Brew snorted. “No. We’re fucking pissed. You don’t know half of the shit that’s been going on.”

And I was okay not knowing. “This will only take a minute. Then I’ll leave. I promise.”

My brothers leaned away, and I could breathe again.

Cold and efficient. I tried to keep it as impersonal as possible, imagining the men sitting across from me—intimidating me—as little more than patches on vests and not the brothers who loved their little sister. My lip trembled before I spoke.

I tossed the money between them. Keep and Brew stared at the envelope.

“I’m sorry I asked for your help. It was a moment of weakness. I’m returning your money.”

Brew’s knuckles cracked as he curled a hand into a fist. “Fucking hell, Rose.”

“I thought about it after you gave it to me. I know you guys mean well. Sometimes. But I have to do this my way.”

“
Your
way?” Keep shrugged. “And what way is that?”

“I want to do it on my own.”

Brew chuckled. “One of these days you’re gonna get bucked off that high horse. And you won’t like it when your ass smacks the ground down here with the rest of us.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Why don’t you tell us the real reason?” Brew bit back the aggression in his words as best he could. He never was subtle. “Why are you here? All dressed up. Money in hand. So upset you
had
to come to Pixie to give it to us right
now
.”

Keep counted the money. “Today was your audition.”

My cheeks warmed, but I preferred humiliation to tears. “It was.”

“And how did that new guitar work out?”

“I didn’t get the gig.”

They didn’t say anything. I hated most silences. This one was the worst.

“It was a mistake. The guitar. The money. Everything. And I have to make that mistake right.”

Brew laughed. “Stop being so goddamned sanctimonious. You think it’s
our
fault you didn’t get the gig. You think that the money is somehow tainted because we earned it through Anathema. It’s not good enough for you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You meant it.”

“Brew—”

“Dad’s money fed you. Clothed you. Put you in those fancy music lessons. What’s the difference?”

“I couldn’t control how Dad got his money. I couldn’t even ask.”

“Bullshit.”

I wished the harshness in my brothers’ voices rasped with anger. That my insinuations somehow insulted them. But that wasn’t it at all.

I hadn’t seen them for nearly six months, but they were still my brothers. Blood. They took care of me, even if they showed it in the wrong ways.

And I
hurt
them.

It just wasn’t fair to any of us.

“I can’t be a part of this,” I said. “I’m on my own now, and Dad’s in jail. I can finally…get away from it. For good.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brew asked. “We’re your goddamned family.”

“Anathema is your family. Not me.”

“Bullshit.”

Keep tossed the money onto the table. “That’s not even the right amount.”

Brew swore. “You’re not helping.”

I stared at my hands. “I know it isn’t the right amount. I still owe you two hundred dollars.”

“Jesus Christ, Bud,” Brew said. “You don’t owe us a goddamned dime.”

“Please, let me pay you.”

Keep elbowed Brew’s side. “You hearin’ this? Our own little sister. Talking back to us.”

“I’m hearin’ it. And I’m hopin’ to Christ Almighty I’m fucking hallucinating.”

I didn’t dare look up from the table. Shame colored my cheeks. It was like I was five years old again, dangling my legs at the dining room table with Mom passed out on the couch and my brothers and father talking business, booze, and women in the kitchen. I tapped my toes on the floor, just to make sure I hadn’t gotten lost in the past.

My shoes grazed hardwood. It was now or never.

“I pawned the guitar.”

My brothers went silent.

The calm before the storm.

I tensed, but I had nothing to hold onto except them, and I knew how it would end. I’d get thrown clear, just like the last time I packed on a motorcycle and clung to the driver. Everything with Anathema ended up bruised and dumped on the side of the road. I was probably next.

“You
pawned
your guitar?” Keep leapt up. His chair careened behind him and crashed against the pool table. “So now you have no money, no guitar, and you’re pissing off the only fucking family you have left.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Brew rubbed his forehead. “You pawned the guitar? Where?”

I didn’t like the gravel in his voice. “At a…pawn shop?”

“
Which one
?”

“The one we always used.”

Keep’s profanities echoed throughout the bar, scattering the remaining men who thought they could finish their drink while my brothers interrogated me.

Brew stayed quiet. That worried me even more.

“That’s…” Brew slammed a hand on the table. “The worst thing you could have done.”

“Why?”

“That shop has always been a front for Slick Eddie.” He frowned when I shrugged. “Eddie joined with
Exorcist
. He’s goddamned Coup.”

My stomach turned. “He did?”

“And now you drove your little ass over to his shop, sold your guitar, gave him your name, and stormed directly to Anathema’s clubhouse.”

“I—”

“Fucking hell.” Keep curled his hands into fists but he couldn’t stop shaking. “Rose, you might think you’re immune to all this. That you have nothing to do with Anathema, and you can just live your life serving pie to retirees while singing show tunes on the side. But you’re a
Darnell
. And that means you’ve got to use your goddamned head.”

“I’m sorry!”

Brew scowled. “Bud, I know you want this music career. And you want to do it by yourself. I can respect that. And you’ll get it one day. But you can’t hide from the real world. I’m not going to have my little sister killed in this war.”

“I won’t be—”

“You’re done. I don’t want to hear another word.”

“Brew—”

“I said
shut it
!”

Brew flipped the table, casting it into the nearby booths. I bit my lip to quiet my yelp, but I knew better than to run from the chair.

My brother didn’t want me killed in a gang war.

Probably because he meant to kill me himself.

Fortunately, Brew took a breath, calmed down, and kissed the top of my head.

“What the hell is going on out here?”

I didn’t recognize the feminine voice, but my brothers did. And they backed off.

A beautiful blonde stalked the bar, the clip of her heels mirroring the disapproving scold in her words. Her three inch stilettos, black leather pants, and revealing corset gained the attention of the room, but she owned more than just their approval.

She had their respect.

I didn’t know any woman who had that power over Anathema. An hourglass figure couldn’t control my brothers, but she couldn’t fit any weapons in her second skin of stitched leather.

“It’s fine, Lyn.” Brew righted the table before she even asked. “Having a chat with our sister.”

“It doesn’t sound like a sweet family chat.” She tipped her head at me. Her blonde hair bobbed over her shoulders. Golden and beautiful, but more noble queen than gentle princess. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she wasn’t anywhere near my brothers’ ages. I didn’t have to ride with Anathema to know who she was. A woman that poised and strong and working that much leather wasn’t a maid. Women like her hung out around the club for only a few reasons, but none of them could talk to my brothers like that.

I nodded. “I’m okay.”

She glanced over me, her pin-prickling gaze almost as bad as the combined glare from my brothers. “So you’re Bud.”

“Just Rose now.”

“The musician?”

“Yeah.” Keep snorted. “She’s recently gone
a Capella
.”

“Thorne wants to see her.”

Brew narrowed his eyes. “We planned to make this a short visit.”

“He already asked.”

“Goddamn it.” Brew hauled me from the chair. “Let’s get this over with. He’s not going to be happy. Stay quiet and let me do the talking. Maybe we can get you home in one fucking piece.”

Thorne. I remembered the name. I remembered the man.

I wish I hadn’t.

After Dad got arrested, the leadership splintered, and a younger man seized control. The new generation surpassed the old quicker than anyone would have liked, but, rumor was, no one wanted to mess with the new president. Even Exorcist only fractured the charter in a stealth attack, jumping his own brothers in the dead of night and sheltering himself on the other side of the river.

The thought of a man who stared down the barrel of a gun, survived because of sheer vengeance, and plotted his revenge each night trembled my every last confidence.

My father wasn’t the only danger in the world. And, like a dutiful daughter and attentive sister, I obeyed my family’s rules and stayed out of trouble.

What was I supposed to do when they delivered me into danger?

Anathema wasn’t just motorcycles, and the crime shadowing their existence meant more to the men than blind anarchy. Their president needed to balance ruthless disregard with organized bloodshed.

The man who waited for us was that leader.

And he was good at what he did.

My stomach flipped, flopped, and revved out of the office. The dark-haired renegade at the desk had no patience for my brothers’ tantrums or the disruption in the bar.

He scowled, but the frown didn’t ugly his face. It strengthened him. Enhanced the strong line of his jaw. Deepened the midnight threat of his gaze. It framed the darkness of his long hair, layering behind his ears.

Thorne belonged in Anathema. He
was
an anathema. The man, the curse, the being of authority that existed in the world I didn’t belong. My every instinct told me to cower behind my brothers, to run home and forget everything I saw and everything I had done. The world was a treacherous enough place without men like Thorne Radek abusing the system and manipulating his strength to sate his bloodlust.

I never met a man who commanded such power. My father tried and failed, only because he wanted the power and would do anything to dominate people into his reign.

Thorne silenced with a glance, punished with a frown, and intimidated me with a single dismissive wave of his hand.

“What happened?”

His perfect baritone bumbled my stomach like I lingered too near a base drum. The smooth cadence pinned me in place. I wanted to hear that sound again, if only to memorize the notes and imagine the score of his voice played out on a piano.

“Rose, you remember Thorne,” Keep said. “Thorne, Bud. She’s grown since you last saw her.”

He didn’t greet me. Hardly even looked at me. I might have been insulted if I weren’t relieved. I didn’t know what stage-fright was, but, had my brothers expected me to speak, I’d have collapsed under my own spotlight.

Thorne didn’t care for pleasantries. “What happened?”

“Rose accidentally did a bit of recognizance,” Brew said. “Took a ride over to Slick Eddie’s pawn shop. Gave up her guitar.”

Keep snorted. “For a shit price too.”

Lyn laughed. Thorne didn’t.

“Did they know her?” He asked.

“Sure. She told them her name.” Brew didn’t look at me. “They probably followed her here.”

Thorne nodded. “Get her home.”

“Then what?”

“Had my own run-in today. Get her out of here, then call the guys in. We gotta go to church.”

The hair on my neck prickled. A thin cut grazed Thorne’s cheek. Something curdled inside me. He was probably lucky the small gash was his only injury.

Brew and Keep grabbed my arms and hauled me from the room. I stumbled, but they didn’t let me fall.

Thorne hadn’t spoken to me.

I glanced over my shoulder as my brothers led me away.

The midnight dark of Thorne’s stare silenced every thought and melody twisting my mind. The blonde leaned over the desk, whispering something into his ear.

His gaze never diverted from me.

My brothers thought I was in danger. They were wrong.

The only danger to me was drawing attention from Thorne Radek.

I didn’t like complications.

I didn’t need complications.

And Rose Darnell was a major fucking complication.

Was she safe? Fuck if I knew. Her brothers were right to be pissed, but even The Coup respected Blade. They had no reason to harass the daughter of Anathema’s last VP. Hell, Blade was part of the club’s golden age. His generation managed jail times, not body bags. That peace was hard to forget.

But we didn’t need some goddamned co-ed barging into enemy-owned fronts and destroying what weak truce we created. Her father couldn’t protect her from behind bars. The Coup probably followed her sweet ass right to Pixie.

Any hint of antagonism from Exorcist’s men and her brothers would destroy themselves in a half-cocked rage. Blade asked his sons to look after her, and she grew up safe while her old man shared the soap with a dozen gangbangers dirtier than him. But she wasn’t a kid anymore. Keep and Brew had cause to worry.