Warlord (Anathema Book 1) (7 page)

BOOK: Warlord (Anathema Book 1)
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“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.”

“God damn 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, by 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 by 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 behind
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.

The biggest
danger to me was drawing the attention from Thorne Radek.

 

 

 

I didn’t like
complications.

I didn’t need
complications.

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.

No one targeted
children. But Exorcist would fuck with the adult sister of Anathema’s Sergeant
at Arms and Secretary just to piss us off.

 “Well, she’s a
pretty little thing.” Lyn hopped on the desk. I knew what to expect from her
leather-clad legs, but that teasing wink didn’t belong outside Sorceress. “Must
be twenty-one by now.”

Somewhere around
that. Her brothers and I were men when Blade knocked-up his junkie wife for the
last time. One of the few pregnancies that kept. How the kid managed to be born
without a cigarette between her lips and track marks between her toes was a goddamned
miracle.

And to grow up
into
that
.

Christ. Rose was
pretty
. She didn’t twist a guy’s boxers like Lyn. Didn’t have to. Just
the hint of her baby bunny eyes hidden behind the spiraling curls of her hair could
cripple a man. I served two years in county for Anathema. Didn’t want to think
how many years I’d lose to a girl like her.

“We don’t have
to worry about domestic disturbance calls, do we?” Lyn arched an eyebrow.

“Keep and Brew?”

“They’re
pissed.”

“That’s their
sister.”

“Keep’s not
exactly the most stable at the moment.”

I frowned. “He’s
not going to hurt his little sister. He’d kill himself first. Or Brew would
tear his head off.”

“Collateral
damage?”

I didn’t like
the insinuation. Except she was probably right.

My head pulsed. I
didn’t know what’d come first—Ex’s bullet or a fucking aneurysm.

“You sticking
around much longer?” I grunted.

Lyn licked her
lips. Tease.

“I want to see
how this plays out,” she said.

“You aren’t
getting inside the chapel.”

“Did I ask?” Her
voice hardened. “Do we have anything to worry about?”

“Worry about the
day we don’t have a loaded gun pointed at our heads.”

“Always the
optimist,” she sighed.

“Realist.”

“Dead man.”

“I’m counting on
it.”

Lyn knew more
than she should. Even worse, she flaunted it. And no matter how many times I
told her to shut her mouth and shake her ass like a good girl, she never
listened. Just meant now I had two women with death wishes. The stripper who thought
she could roll with the brothers and the innocent who blundered into a world
that’d eat her alive. And Anathema wasn’t strong enough now to protect either
of them from themselves.

I ordered Lyn to
wait at the bar. She flipped me off.

She’d never keep
that promise.

Keep’s bar stayed
cleaner than its owner, and Brew’s warehouse fortified our church with steel
walls, security cameras, and what used to be the sweat of brotherhood. The
walls still stood, but the cameras filmed enough blood to fracture that
brotherhood like a skull on pavement. What remained wasn’t Anathema. The real
club festered in betrayal. The infection that split the charter plagued our
chapel.

And I was the
fucker caught in the middle. Salvaging the few good men that survived the war
into a haphazard core. A core I didn’t even trust.

Anathema held a
round table for our officers. I claimed the executive seat. The others leaned
in on bar stools or folding chairs. Whatever they could find that wasn’t still
stained with blood or the reek of death and treason. Smelled the same to me.

Scotch heaved
his bulk into his chair, tapping a newly purchased pack of cigs on the table. The
cigarette weighed heavy on his lips. He rubbed the powder white scruff on his
chin before flicking his lighter. He crumpled up the nicotine patch peeled from
his shoulder.

“Only live once,
right?” The smoke exhaled from his nose in a satisfied sigh. “Better enjoy it
before the ticker finally gives out.”

“At this point,
I’m starting to think death feels like a party.” James “Gold” Mered, club
treasurer and goddamned philosopher, bummed a cigarette. “Gotta be a better shindig
than this shit.”

It wasn’t just
the cigarette smoke that was bitter. Something had to raise our morale. If it
meant calling in whores or hiring clowns, I’d do it. Fuck, both at the same time
if it helped. Anathema saw weirder shit these last few months than bozo ramming
a one-armed Puerto-Rican prostitute.

Except only one thing
would fix my club.

Finding the
brother betraying us.

And carving out
his heart during a special service in our chapel.

“Where’s Frick
and Frack?” Gold sucked his cigarette down to the filter. He snapped his
fingers, bumming another as soon as he tossed the butt in the ashtray. “Saw
them cornering some sweet-ass.”

“Hey.” Scotch threatened
with the lighter, aiming the flame at Gold. “Watch your mouth. That’s my
Goddaughter.”

“Shit, that’s
Bud
?”

“Get your mind
out of the gutter.”

Gold whistled. “Damn.”

The door swung
open. Keep and Brew arrived in time to defend their sister’s honor before they
kicked her ass from the clubhouse back home.

Where she
belonged.

“Sorry,” Brew
said. He took Scotch’s offered cigarette with a nod. “Family issues.”

Keep slid into
his seat and ran his trembling hand over his smooth head. Nervous trait from
before he shaved the golden locks no one in his family shared. The shakes were
new and getting worse. Wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

“Kids these
days,” Keep said.

“She getting
home safe?” I asked.

Brew drew on his
cig. “For now.”

“She’ll be
fine.” Keep nodded. “Got two prospects riding behind her. Said if she got a
flat tire I’d be patching it with their asses.”

Scotch shook his
head. “Don’t know. Seems like Red’s the type of guy who’d like that.”

“Times are
changin’, old man,” Brew laughed. “Prospects come in all flavors now. I only
care if they shoot a gun straight.”

“This is why I
liked retirement. My time was simpler.”

“Nothing’s
simple anymore.” I cracked the gavel on the stand. “Least of all Anathema.”

Gold grinned. “Guessing
it wasn’t Lyn who got you all bloody.”

BOOK: Warlord (Anathema Book 1)
8.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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