Knight (114 page)

I sighed. His bar was in better shape than mine, especially after I reduced it to ash. The floors weren’t scuffed, and the walls didn’t hide Goliath’s punched holes with posters of late ninety’s porn stars. The space was clean, bright, and fortified. Not at bad hangout.

A prospect whistled at me from the door. I ignored the small fish, looking for any of the sharks that might have prowled around the barstools for my fresh meat.

I didn’t find any predators, but damned if I didn’t find the best bait.

Rose was pretty—the exact kind of girl who should have kept her nose in her studies and out of the shadows of a bar like this one. She drank a water and piled college textbooks around her, but she ignored both for the guitar at her side. The pick strummed a few lazy notes. She didn’t doodle in the notebook. She sketched the chords for a song.

I sat next to her. Cautiously. No one guarded her, but I wasn’t gonna risk getting tossed out on my ass for getting to close. It didn’t matter that she was Brew and Keep’s sister. Now she belonged to the president of the club, and every gun in the place cocked when I spoke to her.

“Rose?”

She looked up. I didn’t wait for her to answer.

“I’m Martini. I need to find Brew.”

Rose had his eyes. And his eyebrows. And the quark of his lip when he didn’t quite understand something I demanded. She glanced over the bar. The three men sharing the table behind us hadn’t heard the question, but she flinched just the same.

“I’m...sorry,” she said. “Brew...he died. A few months ago.”

I figured as much. “Okay. He told me the story about the exile and everything. You don’t have to pretend. I just need to find him. He’s in danger.”

Rose closed the musical theory book. Her fingers drummed over the cover as her claws came out.

“Look. I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here.” Her voice edged hard. “But if I were you, I’d get the hell out of Pixie and stop asking questions about my brother.”

“Rose—”

“Who told you my name?”

“He did.”

It wasn’t good enough. “You have three seconds before I get my other brother.”

“Keep?” I nodded. “Perfect. Bring him out.”

“
One
.”

“Brew is alive. He was with me in Pittsburgh until you called and told him your dad was out of jail. He came to find you.”

“
Two
.”

How much proof did she want? “He betrayed Anathema only because he was working with The Coup and Temple to get your dad out of prison. Anathema found out, and you interceded before Thorne killed him. He left town three months ago.” I held her gaze. “Now I need to find him. Can you help me?”

“
Keep!
”

I panicked, grabbing her hand. “Brew said he bought all your instruments. He got you a guitar at five, a flute at six, and a drum set at ten.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “How do you—”

“Because Brew and I were traveling together until he left to come here. I...” The words sounded stupider out loud than in my head, but that was the price of honesty. “I’m in love with him, and I’m trying to save his life.”

“Bud?”

A leaner, harder looking Darnell emerged from the hall behind the bar. His head was shaved, but a blonde goatee trimmed his jaw. His hazy blue eyes danced over me—lighter and rounder than the rest of his family’s features. They’d be beautiful, but his pupils dilated. I tilted my head. Rose and Brew looked more alike than Keep and his brother, even with the age difference.

He pulled his sleeve up too far. Fresh bruises nestled in his elbows. He nodded and leaned over the bar. “Who’s your friend?”

“Never mind, Keep,” Rose said. “I got it handled.”

“Whatever you say, Bud.” He ignored her in favor of me. “Name’s Keep. What do I call you?”

“Unavailable.” I winked. “Especially to you.”

“Oh, I like a challenge.”

“Not this one.” Rose groaned as she shoved him away. “Go sober up before you embarrass yourself.”

He snorted, but his words slurred too soft for the attitude behind it. “Christ, Bud. Don’t start this shit again.”

“Keep, please.”

“Don’t raise your fucking voice to me.”

“
Keep
!”

He pinched his eyes shut, running a hand over his face. “Sorry. Sorry sorry. I gotta go...sleep it off...you’re supposed to be studying, Bud.”

She flushed—that shame when she couldn’t explain away his behavior, even to someone who understood what the addiction did to him.

“Yeah, I’ll keep reading,” she said. “I promise.”

Keep was attractive, but whatever pumped in his blood thinned his cheeks and twitched his muscles. Rose sighed as he tripped and swore over an uneven floorboard. A door slammed somewhere in the back office.

“It got worse after Brew left.” She didn’t have to tell me, but she did anyway. “He can’t look at me unless he’s high, but I’m the only one who can take care of him when it gets too bad.”

Good God, the kid was a walking Shakespearian tragedy muddied with cinders and motor oil. I gave her a weak smile. She saw through it and stared at my face. I wore long sleeves, but they only covered up bruises, not my stiff, achy movements.

“Are you...hurt?” She asked.

“Oh.” I wished I hadn’t stuffed my sunglasses in my purse. The makeup did a poor job of covering Goliath’s marks. “I’m okay. Really.”

Rose didn’t buy it. “But look at you! Did someone do this to you?”

“Forget it. We need to worry about Brew. Please tell me someone can take me to him?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t tell Keep he was in town, and I didn’t tell Thorne.”

“When did you see him?”

“Yesterday, but I haven’t talked to him since. We had a fight.” She pulled out her phone and thumbed through the unanswered messages. “I tried to text him, but he never responds to me anyway.”

“I understand that feeling.”

“But…” Rose’s fawn brown eyes flashed a curious brown. “I was supposed to play at Sorceress tonight.”

“Yeah…you already told me.”

She groaned. “You’re my
biggest fan
, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. I had to find out where he went, and I figured you’d lead me to him.”

She shrugged. “Lyn cancelled my gig tonight. She said the crowd would be too rough for me. They’d want to see more leg, not listen to my covers. He’s gotta be there.”

My stomach tightened. “So where’s your father then?”

She shivered at the word but pretended she hadn’t. “I...don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I told him not to. I didn’t want him going after Dad.”

“Damn it.”

I trembled off the stool. I might have been too late. Blade knew Brew was coming, and he didn’t need to hire anyone else to do his dirty work. He’d save his ass and keep his money all in the same gunshot.

“Rose, let me borrow your car.”

She apologized. “I rode in with Keep after class—”

“Fuck. Look, I gotta get to Sorceress. Can one of the guys give me a ride?”

“And find him there? If they learn Brew’s alive, we’re all in a world of pain.”

“He might be dead already.” I grabbed my purse. “I’ll take a taxi.”

Rose shifted. She studied the bar, counting the men and checking the time. She wasn’t tough, but she was stubborn like Brew.

“I’ll take you there,” she said.

“You don’t have a car.”

“I can get the fob to Thorne’s bike.”

“And...?”

She blushed. I choked.

“Holy shit,” I said. “I’m not crazy enough to steal my man’s bike.”

She bit her fingernail. “He’s upstairs sleeping off the run last night. I’ll be back before he realizes I’m gone.”

“And what do you tell Keep?”

“He won’t remember we were here.”

“Are you sure—”

Rose stood. “I’m going. With or without you.”

She wouldn’t be safe at Sorceress. Brew would flip his shit if he knew she was on her way, but his rage would be the preamble to the fireworks when Mr. President realized both his bike and girl were missing.

Necessary risks.

I nodded. “Can you handle a motorcycle?”

Rose smirked and curled a finger for me to follow her outside. I slid behind her onto Thorne’s sleek, black motorcycle and swore as she kicked up dust peeling out of Pixie’s parking lot.

Rose had no business riding a bike as well as she did, but she came from a line of men born and bred to lead the club. She read the road, owned Thorne’s stolen bike, and cut across three lanes of traffic like the craziest motherfuckers patched into Anathema. No mystery who taught her how to ride, but I wondered if Brew drilled any common sense into her head.

I packed many times before, but Rose was too tiny for the Harley. I shrieked as she split the traffic and red-lined the bike. I pinched my eyes shut and chanted my Hail Marys. Rose didn’t stop or slow. The closer we got to Sorceress, the further Thorne would have to hitchhike before he kicked both our asses.

She peeled off the highway, dodging a pissed off Subaru and a panicking woman in an SUV two luxury sizes too big for her. The bike obeyed her, roaring as we crossed the town borders and rode toward the pink and purple neon lights of a fenced in club. A newly refurbished sign scrawled the word
Sorceress
in pretty calligraphy, though the delicate lettering was lost on the rows of bikes and pick-ups parked outside.

“I don’t see his bike!” Rose shouted.

I squeezed her waist, trying to calm her before she throttled through the front doors and ruined Brew’s cover.

Brew taught her how to ride, but he forgot the lesson in breaking. The bike pitched in the gravel. She crunched to a halt and stalled. We nearly tumbled off the seat.

“That’s…” Rose gripped the handles until her fingers turned white.

“What?”

“That’s my dad’s bike.”

Oh. The red and chrome motorcycle shone gaudy in the neon lights. It had the right blend of flare and function. It was a bike to be noticed by those who didn’t understand anything about them and respected by those who did. I yelped as Rose jammed the throttle and parked next to the motorcycle.

“He’ll think its Thorne.” Rose puffed. “It’ll scare him.”

Nothing would scare a monster like Blade. If abusing his own daughter and sitting in jail for murder didn’t bother him, Thorne’s bike would just piss him off.

Or he’d think of it as a challenge.

Rose pointed to a side entrance and darted inside before I stopped her. The thrumming bass pulsed the club like a rave, but the expensive furniture, recessed lighting, and soft colors exuded femininity. The halls filled with private stages and darkened dressing rooms, beaded curtains and the all-familiar grind of a malfunctioning printer from an office.

Two dancers in thongs dropped their act as soon as they jumped offstage. They ignored us in favor of their cell phones and ducked out of Rose’s path.

“There’s no way in hell Brew and Thorne let you strip?” I said.

“Don’t worry. I play guitar and sing. Covers, mostly.” Rose peeked in an empty office before ushering me deeper into the club. “They try to play it up like this is a real gig, but Sorceress is one of Anathema’s investments. Playing here is an easy way for the guys to keep an eye on me.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“You’ve met Br—my brother. Thorne is just as protective. But…” She was honest because I bet she was a worse liar than Brew. “I earn ridiculous tips if Lyn dances when I play, and my YouTube channel gets a ton of hits if I make music videos with the girls.”

“You’re too practical for this life.”

“Someone in my family has to be.”

The music shifted to a steadier, seductive beat, and the lights dimmed. A single dancer took the stage, swaying her hips to a popular R&B song as a dozen grizzled, leather-bound men flashed fistfuls of cash. I searched the crowd, but a woman’s sudden profanity stopped us short of the main floor.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” The hiss of feminine authority belonged to a black skirt and laced up corset stitched from the skin of the devil himself. The leggy blonde wielded four inch stilettos and an attitude born from their unforgiving bite strapped against her feet. “I told you not to come tonight!”

Rose flinched, but she didn’t roll over. “We have a problem, Lyn. This is Martini. She’s...she’s with…”

We didn’t have time to waste on veiled secrets. “I need to find Brew.”

Lyn’s radioactive gaze told me everything and punished me for trying to find out more. “He’s dead. Case closed.”

“I know he isn’t dead.”

“What? You his old lady?”

“I blew that chance.”

“Honey, if you can still blow him, you got a chance,” Lyn said. If looks could kill, her perfectly manicured nails, curls of blonde hair, and temptress red lips would have resurrected a man just to murder him again. “Aren’t you a little young for him?”

“Is he here?”

“He’s in trouble, Lyn,” Rose said.

“Why?”

I tried to push past her. Lyn didn’t budge, and I didn’t trust her sharpened nails.

“There’s a bounty on his head and three MCs chasing him,” I said. “I didn’t tell him I was here, but I’ve gotta help him out before something happens.”

“Where are Thorne and Keep?”

Rose hesitated. “We…didn’t tell them we were coming.”

Lyn swore. “Christ, Rose. Next time you want to create a headache, just drive the ice-pick into my brain. Saves time.”

“Seriously, Lyn.”

“
Seriously
?” The blonde laughed. “Seriously, get out of here. Too much shit is going down tonight.”

I groaned. MC politics were complicated enough. Add in a couple gashes and sordid histories with the men, and drug lords and state police seemed a hell of a lot easier to deal with. Lyn shouted after me, the clip of her heels every bit the same threat as a blasting shotgun.

“Rose, go wait in my office,” Lyn ordered. Rose didn’t listen. She matched my pace as we burst through the halls.

The thick bass of the stage rumbled in my stomach, unsettling what had been empty since I escaped the burning bar, Temple, and Goliath. My skin crawled even in memory. I preferred the pain of the belt’s bites to the shudders of my own disgust. Every part of me tensed in silent agony as I pushed my battered body to find the only one who’d heal it.