Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (10 page)

The
silence thudded my heart.

“Love
you too, baby.”

The
conversation ended. I didn’t move from the door. She ran the water for a minute
before flicking off the light and nearly running into me. She squealed. Her
hands fluttered to her throat. She rewrapped the loosened silk into a pretty
knot, not fast enough to hide the angry tattoo scrawled over her creamy skin. I
didn’t ask. She didn’t explain.

“You
ready?” I said.

She
tucked the phone in her pocket. I doubted she realized I was awake, and she
hadn’t wanted me to hear her conversation with Goliath.

“We
need to talk,” she said.

We
didn’t. I already made my decision.

“I’m
taking you to Kingdom.”

Those
silver eyes had a bad habit of sharpening into a flash of steel. Her stare
polished the edge of an unconcealed blade.

“I’ll
only ask this once,” she said. “You can answer honestly, or you can lie. That
burden is for you to live with.”

“I
live with a lot of things, Darling. What makes you think anything you say will
be different?”

“What
the hell did Sacrilege get into with this deal?”

Martini
asked the wrong questions when she should have looked after her own ass.

“What
did your boyfriend say?” I said.

She
didn’t like my stall. “He asked if I made it yet. Why I hadn’t called.”

“He
worried about you?”

“No.”
Her voice bittered. “He’s worried I screwed it up.”

“Doesn’t
sound like a nice boyfriend.”

Her
eyes flashed again. “I don’t trust this deal. And I refuse to get trapped
somewhere I can’t get out.”

Trapped.
That was a good word for it. Didn’t have to be ropes binding her to a chair. No
options, no hope, no way out but bloodshed. If my money might have bought her
safety instead of time, I’d have gone into debt and sold my bike to rescue her
from what was about to happen.

But
no one had that power.

“You’re
going to Kingdom because you’ll be safe there.” I patted my vest. “I’m giving
them the ten grand as protection money. No one’s gonna touch you.”

“
What
?”
She frowned. “Why would you do that? That’s
ten
thousand dollars.”

“I’m
taking you there, finishing the deal, and keeping you somewhere Temple isn’t
gonna look.”

“But—”

“They’re
after me. That wasn’t the main MC. That was a scouting party. A handful of guys
making alliances and setting up shop in this region. They’ll be back with more
men, bigger guns, and a grudge that’ll turn the lake red with blood.”

“So
what do we do?”

“
We
do nothing.”

I tugged
my shirt over my head and zipped into my jacket like a suit of armor, the one protection
I had. No patches. No names. No emblems. No responsibilities except to myself and
the little blonde flirt who watched me with blades in her eyes.

“I’m
gonna make sure you’re safe,” I said. “Then I’m leaving.”

“Where
will you go?”

“Doesn’t
matter.”

“What
will you do?”

I
held my arms out. “It doesn’t matter. Time to go.”

“But
what about the deal?” She planted herself in the motel. It’d take a slap to her
ass to get her to move. “Sacrilege MC doesn’t spend thousands of dollars they
don’t have to hire someone to steal women away. And Kingdom isn’t holding me
for money. You have to know something.”

I
forced her coat into her arms. “I don’t ask questions. If you were smart, you
wouldn’t either. You might not always like the answers.”

“Oh,
I have plenty of questions.”

I
didn’t doubt it. She raised her chin.

“Who’s
Rose? What’s Anathema? Why didn’t you black out your ink yet? What did you do
to Temple to piss them off?”

I shoved
her into the wall and held her there, my forearm to her throat.

I
towered over the girl. It took less effort to keep her still than it did to
haul my crashed bike off the road. She didn’t reach for my arm. Martini went
limp, but her stare met mine and matched the rage seething from my strength
with her own resonating stubbornness.

 “Darling,
I answer those questions and I guaran-
fucking
-tee you’d wish you never
asked.”

We
had wasted enough time. I grabbed her wrist and forced her out the door,
tossing the room key on the ground and guiding her to an exit. She didn’t say a
word as I slammed her on my bike. The Harley started. It was more reliable than
anything else in my life.

“Something
happened to Rose.” Martini laced her fingers over my chest. Each touch was like
a dagger’s bite. “That’s why you’re helping me. Something happened to her, and
you blame yourself.”

I
clenched my teeth. Three months passed since the rage last seized control. I
inherited my temper from my father. My hands tightened over the handlebars. It
was the only thing saving her from a smack across the mouth, and the only
motion preventing me from shoving the gun under my chin and ending the fucking
guilt once and for all.

“You
say her name again, and I’ll leave you with Kingdom to rot.”

Martini
tensed, but her voice softened. Not the placating whisper she used with
Goliath. A real gentleness. A heart-breaking forgiveness I didn’t deserve.

“You
won’t leave me because you’ll never let it happen again.”

I
didn’t answer. She already sliced my throat, and I was content to bleed out.
She said nothing else on the ride, just gripped me tight and leaned against me to
protect herself from the wind and bitter truth of what was about to happen.

The
highway let out in forest. I followed the lone road beyond civilization and
into the back-ass woods where lone cabins dotted the streams fed from the lake.
My phone buzzed again. I didn’t look until we pulled in front of the addressed safehouse—a
little summer home that might have once entertained a happy family. Now,
Kingdom boarded up the windows and hid their grizzly pack inside. A padlocked
garage probably housed their boat. Two jeeps parked in the grass.

No
one moved in the cottage.

I
ignored the text from Rose.

Martini
hopped off the bike and fluffed her hair. She was probably five feet tall, but a
good four feet of that was just bluff. She zipped her jacket higher and stared
at the quiet house.

Kingdom
hadn’t called to ask why I was late with their delivery.

I
knew why.

“Brew.”
Martini pointed to the rickety porch and the swing collapsed against the
rotting floorboards. “Why is the door open?”

Fresh,
single tire tracks imbedded out of the mud along the driveway. Only one. They
rode in, stopped in the mud, then spun out as they left in a hurry.

Martini
read the tracks and came to the same conclusion.

I
pulled my gun.

“Stay
here,” I said. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. I’ll be right back.”

She
nodded. I didn’t need to tell her twice to keep the bike warm.

I
eased onto the porch. The scent of death wafted outside, the fresh reek of
ambush and bloodshed. I edged open the door. Only the darkness of a cloudy
autumn morning greeted me. No sound. No TV or laughing, no shuffling or
swearing.

Whatever
happened, happened quick. The coffee table knocked over. One of the fancy kinds
with the glass plate in the middle. The glass shattered, but nothing else was
disturbed.

I
peeled the corner with my bad shoulder first. It screamed as I lifted my arm
and aimed the gun.

I
found what I came for.

The
dining room was once a quaint little set-up. China cabinet built into the wall.
A hand-crafted cherry dining set with matching chairs lined up under a sparkling
chandelier. Perfect for a small family.

Except
five severed heads positioned at the table, hacked from their bodies and rolled
before each place setting. Kingdom’s cuts served as placemats.

A
bullet pierced through each head. I recognized Rivet. His expression registered
only shock. The others didn’t have time to react before they were killed and
desecrated.

Anathema
never sent messages like this, even to the asshole brothers who split to form
The Coup.

This
wasn’t the violence a small crew inflicted. Tough MCs tossed bricks through
windows and dented cars with hammers.

Beheadings
were the markings of a cartel.

It
was a damn good thing Martini slept beside me in a filthy motel. One of the
heads might have been hers.

Her
scream echoed from outside. I sprinted from the house, but she was nowhere near
my bike.

I
swore and circled around back, to the pretty garden fenced in with white-washed
wood protecting orange and gold mums. Martini found the headless bodies,
stripped naked and tossed in the flowers.

She
clawed through her panic and stared at me, her eyes glassy in horror.

Then
she bolted into the woods.

They
were killed.

All
of them. Murdered. Left to rot in a tiny garden.

None
of them had heads.

I
ran, but I couldn’t sprint far enough. Brambles tangled in my legs, and
branches snagged in my hair. Nothing slowed me down, but I couldn’t outrun what
I saw.

And
neither could my stomach.

I fled
until my side cramped and warred with every part of me jarred from the accident.
My collapse wasn’t elegant. Neither was what I heaved from my stomach. But the
sickness was good. Something tangible. A way for me to expel everything
haunting and terrible from my body and mind.

I
stood only to get sick again.

Apparently,
there were a
lot
of terrible things festering inside me. I doubted I’d
get them all out without clawing at my insides.

The
men were all
murdered
.

Someone
desecrated their bodies, sliced their heads off, and tossed their remains
haphazardly behind the house for the scavenging animals to eat.

If
we hadn’t got into the accident last night, if Brew hadn’t bought me dinner, if
we hadn’t hidden in the hotel room from Temple...I would have been tossed into
the garden with them.

I
wouldn’t think about that. Not while the murderer might have lurked nearby.
Watching the house.

Waiting
for us to get there.

Waiting
for me.

Christ.
I didn’t know where I was running, but I ran until my lungs filled with panic
as thick as mud. I slid to the ground and panted.

Jesus,
how had I got mixed up in this? First Goliath, then the beatings, then the club
business. I leaned against a tree and closed my eyes. It didn’t help.

Goliath
hadn’t cared about the accident. Hadn’t asked if I was hurt. Hadn’t even cared
where I was. He demanded only two things.

Did
I make it to Kingdom’s safehouse
.

Did
I fuck it up.

What
the hell would he say when he realized the men were dead? Or was that how it
was always supposed to play out?

How
deep did this go?

The
jumbled questions blurred my composure into slippery, useless panic. I
breathed. It did nothing. The breath lodged itself between the fear of what
happened and the horrors yet to come. I coughed it out.

I
had to figure this all out. That was step one. Figure out what to do. Who to
tell.

Who
to trust.

That
answer was easy. Red.

My
heart stuttered and stopped, split down the middle like the poor bastards
trapped in the garden.

Red
was supposed to be up here. He went to find the money and rescue me from
groping hands, not hacksaws to the neck.

What
if he made it here? What if he was one of the dead?

I
pulled out my phone. My grip sweated, and the phone fell to the dirt. I dove,
murmuring my prayer as I fought with the jerking, thickened movements of my terror
to call the one bastard in the world that cared for me even after I made every
wrong decision, slept with every wrong guy, and lost myself in the wrong world.
My cousin was no saint, but Red was all I had.

I
dialed and prayed he wasn’t one of the bodies hauled into the woods.

One
ring. Two rings. Three rings and a scream tore through my throat and pooled the
blood at my feet. I tasted the panic attack, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Four
rings.

“Martini?”

Red’s
smooth voice rolled like Crown Royal, the stuff I hid behind the bar when the
guys stumbled in after a run. My lungs might have detonated into a sob if I
hadn’t tasted a dozen expletives to fire at my cousin. I gripped the phone
until my fingers turned white.

“
Red—fucking
answer your phone when someone calls!
”

“What
the hell—”

“You’re
alive!”

He
snorted. “Hardly. I’m stuck in Philly.”

Never
had such a horrible fate sounded so perfect. I collapsed against the tree. This
time, I let the tears roll over my cheek—only because no one was looking, and
no one could use it to their advantage.

“They’re
all dead.”

“What?”
Red asked.

“All
of them. Five of them. Maybe more. They’re all dead.”

Whatever
chuckle rounded from his lips abruptly silenced. “Who is dead?”

“
They
are. They’re dead. Dead, Red.”

The
rhyme sounded childish. I nearly giggled. I might have used his real name, but
Ryan was as dead as the men in the garden. Lost his scholarship, lost his way,
lost his mind. Ryan abandoned a life of medicine and potential for a different
kind of forensics. Hands-on training—crime scene investigating for those who didn’t
want to call the cops. He guaranteed a quiet and effective clean-up service for
those who needed to dispose of their vendettas as discretely as possible. Then
he dropped out of school, entered the MC, and made a name for himself as
Red
—someone
to call when five decapitated bodies piled in a backyard.

“Who
is dead? Jesus Christ, hold on.” Red muffled the phone with his hand. The
scratchy grumble of a street corner hummed over the line, but he ducked inside
a building and slammed a door. The sudden silence only made his question
harsher. “What the fuck is happening?”

“They’re
dead!”

“Yeah.
I get that.
Who
is dead, Martini? Take a fucking breath and talk to me. Christ.”

“Kingdom
MC.”

Now
it was his turn to panic.

“You’re
not serious.”

“Kingdom
MC is dead. The ones we were supposed to meet. We’re here. They’re dead.”

“Are
you sure?”

“The
headless bodies were a clue, but I’ll go back and ask if they’re horsing around.”

“Holy
shit.”

My
trembling returned—more epileptic fit than shuddered fear. But that was good.
Shivering meant I was feeling something. What I saw hadn’t destroyed my mind. I
blinked and imagined the bodies. After a drink or ten, maybe the image would fade.

Red’s
voice lowered. “You gotta tell me who’s dead. What members? Is anyone else
there?”

“Anyone
else? Holy shit, we needed a priest for last rites hours ago.” I tugged at my
hair. I liked the pain. I normally did, but this time it wasn’t someone else’s
hand keeping my attention. It was my own, and the bite focused me on the
present. “No one told me I’d be walking into a damned graveyard. What the hell
were Sam and Goliath thinking sending me into a fucking gunfight?”

“A
gunfight—Martini, what the hell—”

“Three
men came after us. I just wanted to stop for a milkshake, talk to him a little.
I was trying to get some information out of him.”

“What?
Who?”

“Brew.”

“Brew?”

Fuck.
“Noir.”

Red
exhaled with a profanity. “Three men killed Kingdom?”

“No!
Well…maybe. Just fucking listen to me. I had a milkshake. I mean, we stopped at
a diner to eat, and Temple MC came in. Three officers. They chased us out of the
diner.”

“
Temple
?”

“They
must have known Noir. They followed us all over God’s country before Noir took
two of them out. Or maybe he didn’t. They might still be around. After we
crashed, I don’t remember what happened—”

“
Crashed
?”

“Red,
I’m in trouble. Something is happening here. Something big. Sam and Goliath got
us into trouble, and now we have
got
to get out.”

I
wasn’t making any sense. I sucked in a breath. Red talked at me. I didn’t
listen. I didn’t care what he said, just that he was saying it. Enough madness
and bloodshed stained my life in the past twenty-four hours. The last thing I
needed was my cousin caught in the middle of this, trying to bargain my life
away from men who didn’t have time to fight to save theirs.

“I’m
so glad you aren’t here,” I whispered. “Red, what the hell is going on? Who
killed Kingdom MC? Did Goliath or Sam say anything?”

“I
haven’t heard a damn thing. How long have they been dead?”

“I
didn’t think to ask them.”

“Sam
talked to them before you left.” He not-so-silently counted the hours. “You
were supposed to be there last night. What happened?”

“I
told
you. I convinced Noir to stop for food. I hoped he had information
about the deal. I tried to find out who he was.”

“And?”

I
sighed. I learned plenty about him, but nothing that helped us, and nothing
that my cousin needed to hear about my reactions to him. I covered my face with
my hand. Sticky. Blood stained my cheek. Just another cut. Another injury.

I
survived a firefight, motorcycle crash, and now a beheading. Lady Luck was
apparently on my side. I never had a good relationship with her before, but
damn was I glad I suddenly got to meet her.

“Martini,
say something.”

“He
didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t know, or I didn’t get it out of him. It all
happened so quick. These Temple guys showed up and the game completely changed.”

“They’re
not local.”

“So
you’ve heard of them?”

“They’re
big.” Red swore. “They got the money, the men, and the drugs to make our lives
a living hell. And they’re after Noir?”

“I
think so. We lost them and stayed at a motel for the night.”

“Jesus,
are you okay?”

“Fine,
I guess.”

“Are
you safe now?”

I
shrugged. The trees seemed relatively harmless. “What do you think?”

My
cousin figured things out quick. Math, science, music. Nothing challenged him
except the law, and, even then, he might have made a killer lawyer if he
respected authority. But he hadn’t seen this coming. He said nothing, and his
silence was the loaded gun pushing at both our heads.

“I
don’t think Temple would come all this way just to fuck with Noir,” Red said.
“That’s a lot of miles for one grudge.”

“Yeah,
but…” I tried to forget the pressure of Brew’s body over mine. My fingers still
traced the angry ink covering his chest and arms. The word
Anathema MC
played in my mind. But I didn’t reveal that part of him. “This guy isn’t a small
town meth dealer. He’s the real deal.”

“Great.
So you’re trapped in a tomb with a troubled loner and one of the biggest MCs in
the west chasing you.”

I
nodded. “Yeah. And we gotta figure out who killed these guys.”

“No!”
Red’s chastisement rang through the phone like a shake to my shoulders. “Are
you crazy?
You
don’t do anything.
You
get the hell out of there.”

“Red,
five men have been
murdered
.”

“No.
Five
Kingdom MC officers
were murdered. They aren’t innocent. These were
the men who were gonna keep you captive while Goliath and Sam dicked around
getting them God-knows-what.” He exhaled. “Where the fuck is Noir now?”

Good
question. I surveyed the woods. He couldn’t have been far behind me. He stopped
yelling my name though. I hoped it was out of caution and not because someone
else chased me.

“He’s
at the house. I think.”

“You
think?” Something else broke. I hoped Red wasn’t trashing a hotel room, but it
was better than fucking up a dealer’s house. We didn’t have many friends on the
eastern half of the state. “Find him fucking quick.”

“Why?”

“So
he doesn’t leave your ass there, Martini.
Think
about it. Sacrilege,
Kingdom,
everyone
knew you were supposed to be at that house!”

Yeah,
no shit. It was all I thought about. Over and over and over again, so much so I
felt washed in the blood of the bodies and just as cold and hollow.