Knight (93 page)

Martini wasn’t Rose.

I didn’t care how many times I had to think it. Denial was a strong drug, and I needed another hit.

Martini scrubbed the cuts over my chest hard enough to scrape off the healthy skin. She laughed off her own bruises with a shrug. Her bravery was an act, and she lapped up the spotlight.

It wasn’t the first time I nearly killed an innocent girl. It also wasn’t the first time an innocent girl had to clean my wounds after a fight. When Rose begged Thorne to spare my life, she wasn’t doing me any favors. The fearless president of Anathema didn’t have the courage to blow the traitor’s brains out while she watched. I didn’t have the balls to break her heart and do it myself. She let me live. Now another woman was in danger.

But Martini wasn’t Rose.

Rose did her best to find trouble, tried to fix things without asking for help, and nearly burned in the fires she started.

Martini stumbled into her trouble, but her winks, smirks, and confidence mini-skirted most of the dangers. But a flirty flash of leg meant nothing to Temple MC.

I bit a profanity as she drifted too close to my healing shoulder. She wouldn’t clean up all of me. Not without shoving the cloth in my head and lighting it on fire.

“Thanks.” I didn’t mean it. I pushed her toward the bed. “Get some sleep.”

Martini eyed the bed. The silver in her eyes turned promising. I didn’t smack hard enough against the road to punish myself for the poisonous thoughts that boiled my blood.

Martini was a tiny thing. Petite. Slim. Delicate. When the pain woke me in a monstrous fury, I pinned her under me without any effort. She hadn’t tried to fight either. She didn’t scream or tense or beat at my chest.

She went still. Docile. Like a damned offering, warm and sweet for my taking.

I trapped the prettiest damn creature I ever saw within my rage. I gripped her by her throat, forced her into the mattress, and wound my legs between hers in the most aggressive, dominating, and intimidating posture.

It was how my father taught me to treat the gash I fucked, and it worked. I got whatever I wanted from women. They needed me as much as my cock hardened for them. I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t caring. I fucked, and they welcomed whatever pleasure they got out of being pushed down and used.

Sex was an extension of strength. Life was a struggle, and the best arena to dominate those weaker than me existed in the bedroom.

And I had liked it.

Christ. I couldn’t even look at Martini. Whether it was instinct, lust, or just pure aggression, I hadn’t stopped when my vision cleared and I realized the wide-eyed blonde wiggled beneath my hold.

Her fear excited me.

Except the press of her hips against mine, the gentle surrender of her body, and the coy haze of her smile was one-hundred-and-fifty-one-proof trouble that didn’t just get me drunk. It smashed me over the head with the bottle.

She gave in to me.

And I would have taken it.

In another life, another time, another family, I would have leapt upon her. Even if my arm had snapped the fuck off at the shoulder, I’d have taken her. Broken her. The girl had nothing on my strength, no way to escape, and every reason for me to smack that little ass if she dared to protest.

And it made me sick. Everything inside me shriveled and dusted away with the brimstone that awaited me when my luck ran out.

I acted just like
him
.

The rage burned me. I hadn’t treated women like him though. I still gave them a choice. I waited for their consent. I took, but only because they wanted it. Only because they
needed
it. Only because they understood and desired the same animalistic rutting I did.

Rose didn’t have that choice.

And my father didn’t fucking care.

I’d slice my own throat before I let the blood we shared heat like that again. The instinct was always there, waiting for the chance to strike. I choked Martini without realizing the fragile creature was trying to help me. I hardened because she couldn’t fight back.

The gun should have turned on me.

Martini emptied the bucket in the sink. She washed away more of my blood than water.

“You should sleep,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll take the chair.”

“How chivalrous.” Her hand teased over her throat, but her amusement forgave me. I manhandled her, and she offered to flip me for the bed with a quarter she found in her pocket.

The girl was more dangerous than Temple MC.

A police siren wailed in the distance. She flinched and double-checked the lock on the door.

“Can we be adults about this?” She sat on the edge of the bed with an inviting arch to her eyebrow. “I won’t try anything if you won’t.”

Easier said than done when my every instinct was to shove her into the bed, rip away her clothes, and earn the whimpered breath wrung out from my strength.

But my head felt like it cracked on the concrete only to cobble together with a hammer and rusted nails. I blinked, but two of her now gestured for me to come to bed. Just another fucking fantasy that’d get me in trouble. But my chest ached, and my nose decided to bleed.

Fuck it.

I collapsed on the bed. Martini got under the covers. I might have promised to traffic her to a violent MC, but I was still a gentleman. I gave her the blanket, especially since I blistered in the heat of her memory under me. She seared like the sun, and I didn’t deserve that brightness. I didn’t deserve that excitement. I didn’t deserve to lie in bed next to such a gorgeous woman who nearly died because of me.

“Who were those men, Brew?” Her whisper made the darkness darker with just the mention of my name. She didn’t give up when I ignored her. That was good. Neither would they.

“Temple MC.”

“They aren’t from around here.”

“No.” The thought disturbed us both. “They aren’t.”

“Then why are they here?”

I didn’t have to guess. They looked for proximity to the lake. Border-hopping was easier with calmer waters and looser law enforcement. Better weather, less people, smaller municipalities with fewer funds to chase the drug deals. The region was a prime target for Temple.

“Same thing everyone’s doing here,” I said. “Looking for work.”

“They shot at us.”

“Yeah.”

“And they didn’t hesitate.” She twisted to lean on her side and faced me. “They knew you.”

“Looks that way.”

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Someone has to.”

I adjusted the rock of a pillow behind my head. My shoulder roared in pain. It needed a bed of ice and a handful of the drugs slipping across the lake, not conversation. “You ask questions, you get hurt.”

“I think I might get hurt either way.”

She pulled the pin on a grenade she didn’t know she carried. If she were lucky, the few cuts she got would be the last marks on her perfect skin.

“I won’t let anything happen.”

“I believe you.”

That was stupid. I made promises I’d never keep, but false hope tasted better than lying, and I was tired of the tang of blood on my tongue. The longer she stayed with me, the more danger she was in. Temple wasn’t my only problem. If one rural deputy with more donuts than brains put out an APB on my name,
Brew Darnell
would rise from the dead and enter the crosshairs of Anathema, Temple, and The Coup.

And they’d target Rose.

Thorne could explain why he hadn’t killed me, but Anathema still hadn’t healed from the last schism. The war ended when Thorne took out The Coup’s self-appointed president—a monster who kidnapped and hurt Rose. The false-president was tossed in the river, but that didn’t mean his second-in-command wouldn’t leap at the chance to unify both Anathema and The Coup under his banner. Knight was too smart for the club, but played both sides.

Kill off Thorne, claim Anathema for his own, and offer my ass to Temple in retribution.

Clusterfuck didn’t begin to describe it. The world was a constant bloodbath with no life-preservers. We grabbed whatever unfortunate fucker happened to swim too near us and dunked them under to keep ourselves afloat. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t business.

It was just survival.

And it was hell.

Martini fell asleep before I did. She rolled closer to me, her body stretched out, arms over her head, knees bent and jabbing me in the side. I didn’t move her. Didn’t touch her. Not even when a lock of impossibly blonde hair grazed over her cheek and hid her beauty.

I wouldn’t leave my fingerprints on her. Bloody. Dirty. Greasy with the constant wear of the road.

I had five thousand dollars in my vest.

I was owed another couple grand for transporting her safely.

Kingdom MC choked the region, wringing out every last cent from meth and whores. They made their money, but always spent more. Ten grand could buy Martini time. Maybe not protect her forever, but at least keep her safe for a few days. I’d give them everything to my name if it prevented someone else from grabbing her throat and pinning her against a cheap mattress in the darkness of an unfamiliar room.

It took ten grand to let me sleep peacefully for the first time in three months, and it was worth every penny.

But when I woke, Martini wasn’t in the bed.

I opened my eyes, listening to her whisper from the bathroom. Her words weren’t the gentle promises a woman offered her lover. The floor creaked as she paced.

I eased from the bed. Every ache of my bones reminded me I was closer to forty than thirty. But my arm was still attached at the shoulder, and my grip didn’t fail around my gun. I’d survive, but I wasn’t sure Martini would.

“Baby,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. There was an accident.”

She apologized for getting hurt. Her voice softened, meek and timid with just the right amount of respect that soothed the asshole screaming over the phone. It was a fake voice. She was used to dodging a right-hook with pretty glances and compliments.

“Yeah, I should have called. I meant to, baby, I did. But my head just got all fuzzy.”

A real man wouldn’t have needed an explanation. The word
accident
stilled hearts, and anyone deserving Martini’s sweetness would have cracked his own skull to trade places with her.

Goliath roared so loud I heard the snapping threat echo against the walls.

“Baby—listen to me. Baby, I swear—”

She sighed and slammed a hand against the sink.

“I told you! We got into an accident. I’m
hurt
, Goliath. I had to find a hotel. I just woke up, baby. I called you as soon as I could see straight.”

Damn. The behemoth had a point. Kingdom expected her last night, but no one had called. I pulled my phone. I missed another text, though it wasn’t from Kingdom with a threat to slice off my balls for not delivering Martini.

The message hurt just the same.

Are u ok? Txt me back. I miss you! <3 Rose

“Baby, no, don’t come here.” Martini hardened, the gentle coo lost in a brief panic. “I’m okay now. I’ll get up there today. I promise.”

The silence stilled her. The wall thudded. Not her hand. This time, it was her whole body. She collapsed against the bathroom door. Her voice lowered.

The words weren’t her own. Hollow and lost and so full of utter fear that I nearly ripped the door from the hinges to make sure the bastard hadn’t made her cry. “Don’t come get me. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

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.