Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (21 page)

Men whistled as we sauntered past and more than one request for a blow job filled the night.

Cyclone slowed down and preened a bit, finally losing some of her nerves as all the men called out friendly greetings to her. It was weird looking at the club through the eyes of a sweet butt, especially when I was used to men respecting my personal space. Now they groped me as we walked by, some with a leer, others just in passing, as if it was an automatic reaction. I reminded myself that the party girl I was pretending to be would be eating this attention up, so I laughed and smiled, but not too much. Last thing I wanted was some drunk-ass moron attaching himself to me.

The party was raging and I wondered if they even had the slightest idea how much danger they were in. As I gave the place a quick scan, I noticed men standing against the walls all over the place with their arms crossed, watching the crowd closely. More men with guns stood openly at the top of the wide stairs at the back, past the pool tables, leading up to the second floor. The Iron Horse clubhouse in Golden was big, and it was almost impossible to see the entire room through the crowd.

My hopes of quickly finding Swan died a swift death.

We made it deeper inside and a couple guys called out to Cyclone, but she waved and hustled us to the back of the room where the slut sofas were.

Why do I call them slut sofas? Because all the sluts gather here waiting for men to pick them for the night…or hour…or whatever. Five couches lined the back of the room near the stairs and a variety of women sat on them, drinking and laughing together. If you didn’t know what they were there for, you’d think it was just a bunch of women hanging out.

I know people seem to think the girls who come to party at the clubhouses should be a depressing bunch of dumb skanks, but for the most part, except for the hardcore club pieces, most of these women were just here to take an occasional walk on the wild side. I’d never seen anyone forced to be with someone they didn’t want and that impression was reinforced when Cyclone told a brother no and he went on to the next woman on the couch without missing a beat. Most of these women were here because they were down to fuck, no strings attached, and there was no better place to find an uncomplicated booty call than a biker clubhouse.

With the dark leather sofa, which had seen much better days, now empty, we sat down. I pulled at the edge of my green dress, wanting as much protection between my skin and the leather as possible. Right away, Cyclone gripped my hand and leaned closer. “Smile, laugh, look natural.”

“What?”

“You look like you want to stab someone.”

I realized with a start that I was scowling and quickly put on my beauty-queen smile. “Better?”

“Fuck, that’s creepy how you do that, but yeah. I see your sister.”

“Where?”

“Don’t look, she’s glancing over here, but she’s behind you on the other side of the stairs with…with Smoke.”

“I need to get to her.”

“Hold on, if you get too close, they’ll suspect you right away. We need to figure out a way to ease our way towards her. Lemme find some guys we can go chat up near them.”

Little zings of electricity were sparking across my skin, my senses heightening as my instincts flared to life.

Something was about to happen.

“You feel that?”

“Feel what?”

Before I could respond, I swear my sister yelled something about a grenade. I dropped to the couch and curled up into a ball. Less than a second later, a huge boom ripped through the room, along with a flash of light bright enough to sear my eyelids.

For one terrible moment, I feared a bomb had gone off and I was already dead, I just didn’t know it. When no pain came, only thick smoke that quickly obscured the room, I knew my time had run out. Screams that I could barely hear above the ringing in my ears tore through the air and Cyclone was cautiously peeking over the side of the couch.

I climbed over Cyclone and the back of the sofa, clearing the crowd as I made my way to where Swan was supposed to be. Another grenade went off and the emergency lights were strobing from the exits, further distorting my perception. The edge of my heel caught on something and I almost fell, at the last moment catching myself while people shoved past me. I needed to find the wall, now, before I got trampled.

I couldn’t see shit, but for a moment the haze cleared enough for me to make out Smoke standing out from the crowd, sheltering someone with blonde hair. I fought and slammed my way to where I’d seen them, the smoke too thick to make out much of anything. We were by the stairs, and I hoped Smoke was trying to get Swan up them.

Then her voice came from right next to me and I reached out and caught the back of some man’s shirt then let go. My next grab was nothing but air, but as I stumbled forward, I finally grabbed a slender wrist and yanked.

When someone tried to pull her back, I jerked her to me, unsure if it was Smoke who had ahold of her or one of the Sokolov
Bratva’s
mercenaries. With my breath choking off into a coughing fit, I hauled her to me, trying to shuffle us along, but she resisted moving. Damn it, Swan could be as hard to move as an elephant when she wanted to.

In an effort to get her to stop resisting me, I said in her ear loud enough to be heard over the ringing in my ears, “Swan, it’s me, Sarah. We need to get you out of here. Up to your room, now!”

The stubborn bitch dug in her heels and I wanted to head-butt her. “Prove it.”

“Your first crush was Slater on
Saved by the Bell
. You had a pillow with his face on it that you kissed because you’re a pillow-molesting pervert.”

She didn’t argue with me any more after that and we made our way to the stairs.

My back twitched like someone was waiting to stab it and I practically shoved Swan up the steps in an effort to get away from whoever was hunting us. Two guys stood at the top of the steps in gas masks with their guns pointed at the stairway, but they took one look at us and waved us through. The familiar sound of Khan’s voice came from nearby as he shouted but I blocked it out. We had to get to Swan’s room, now.

My sister started to slow down and I impatiently hauled her behind me, going up another flight of stairs. Men ran past us, all armed, and a few yelled at Swan to get to her room. I wanted to throat punch them for alerting everyone to where we were.

Suddenly Swan stumbled and slumped against the wall. Her face was a pale, cheesy yellow as she muttered, “I don’t feel good.”

“What? How?”

“Don’t…know. Feel weird. Stoned.”

“Did someone drug you?”

“Pain meds…did a big shot of Southern Comfort. And beer.”

I wanted to smack her on the back of her head, but feared it would knock her out. “You dumbass! I can’t believe you did that!”

She made some mumbled noises and I jerked her along as she stumbled against the wall.

Her eyes were super glassy and I clenched my teeth while hauling her up. “Don’t you fucking puss out on me, bitch. Get your ass in gear.
Fight
. Never give up.”

My instincts were screaming at me to get the hell out of the hallway, and I spotted a guy coming around the corner whose eyes widened as he saw us. I didn’t recognize him and the thick layer of greying stubble on his face helped obscure his features. He wore a battered leather vest and his gut hung over the waistband of his pants.

Something about his expression set me on high alert and I bared my teeth at him as he took a step in our direction. He paused, his eyes widened, then took out his cell phone. While he did that, I jerked open Swan’s door. I spared a moment to commit his rough face to memory as he began to run towards us, before shoving Swan into her room. As I swung the door shut, Swan was already fumbling for the lock, turning it the instant I had it closed.

Still feeling unsafe, I managed to shove the dresser over with help from my stupid-ass sister. Swan was never a big drinker, but tonight she’d decided to mix painkillers with alcohol, a big no-no. I ignored the knocking on the door, more worried about my sister than anything else. Afraid she was going to kill herself, I forced her into the bathroom and made her puke until her stomach was empty and she was lying on the floor, panting. I washed her up then eased her no-doubt hurting stomach by rubbing the muscles. Lord knows I have nothing but sympathy now for people puking.

After a few minutes, she mumbled that she was fine, just sleepy—and then she passed out, and no amount of shaking would wake her.

I sat on the floor of the bland cream bathroom and kicked off my shoes, my unseeing gaze focused on Swan as I tried to slow my racing heart.

We were alive.

Both of us.

True, I had no idea where the hell Billie was, only that she was headed to Texas, but we had the merchandise so at least we had something to bargain with, though Mimi was handling the negotiations.

I leaned my head back against the wall and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. The prosthetic nose was itching as the glue lifted due to my excessive sweating and I pried it off my face, breathing deep and removing the remains of the rubber-cement-like glue from my skin with a tired hand. The adrenaline that had been filling me fled, leaving behind weak limbs and limp muscles. I had to get up and move Swan to the bed, nobody wanted to remain passed out on a cold bathroom floor, but my mind had short circuited and I just sat there, trying to pull myself together.

I thought I might have been in shock, the events of the past few days catching up with me, but I didn’t know for sure. All I could be certain of was a sense of relief settled into me as I gently rubbed Swan’s back. She was here, alive, warm beneath my touch—if passed out.

The knowledge eased my racing thoughts and I took a deep breath then let it out slowly. No rest for the weary. Sometimes I wish I could be one of those women who just zoned out and stopped caring about what happened to them, but I was a survivor, and survivors didn’t have the luxury of taking extended mental vacations.

My attempt to motivate myself to move was interrupted by the lock clicking open, then someone trying to shove the door and dresser out of the way.

I quickly stood and removed two of my knives from their sheaths, ready to throw them at whoever was shoving their way into the room.

“Identify yourself!” I screamed in a high, shrill voice.

“Where’s Swan?” Smoke roared as the dresser heaved over with a crash and the door opened enough for him to slide through.

“She’s in here.”

He froze at the sight of me. “Who the fuck are you?”

For a moment I had no idea what he was talking about, then I remembered my disguise. “It’s me, Sarah.”

“Sarah who?” He took a step closer then spotted Swan on the floor behind me. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

When he pulled out his gun and loaded a bullet into the chamber, I held my hands up, both daggers gleaming. “Wait, wait, it’s me, Sarah Anderson, for real! I’m wearing a disguise. I’ll prove it—you won’t eat goat cheese because you think goats are disgusting and evil.”

The gun in Smoke’s hand trembled then slowly lowered. “Sarah?”

I took two steps out of the bathroom and tossed my daggers onto the bed before pulling off my wig, then blinking out my contacts. “Yeah, like I said, it’s me.”

“Why the fuck is Swan passed out on the floor?” A panicked expression tightened his face as he pushed past me to get to my sister.

“She’s okay. Her stupid self decided to mix painkillers and alcohol.”

He gently lifted Swan into his arms then carried her over to the bed before smoothly placing her on the mattress like she was made of crystal. He brushed her hair back from her face with a deeply worried look then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. As he lingered there with his eyes closed, his normally harsh face soft, I inwardly gasped.

Holy shit, Smoke was in love with my sister.

A knock came from the door and a man’s familiar, and deep, voice called out, “Yo, Smoke, you okay in there?”

Smoke glanced at me, his narrow dark eyes studying my face. “Yeah, we’re fine. Got somethin’ you need to see, though.”

The door opened and the dresser slid farther as Hulk shoved his way into the room. While he wasn’t as tall as Smoke, he was wide, built thick with muscle that he’d carefully honed until his body was a testament to the results of living a healthy lifestyle. I’d trained with him in the gym before and his workout regimen was brutal, designed not for looks, but for strength and stamina. With his pale green eyes and dark chocolate skin, he presented an interesting contrast that caught any woman’s attention.

Those pretty eyes widened and his jaw dropped the slightest bit as he looked between me and my sister on the bed. “Sarah?”

I gave him a little wave. “Hey, Hulk.”

He actually staggered back a step, still staring at me. “No fucking way.”

“Yes, fucking way.” I grinned at him, the absurdity of shocking a big, mean biker so thoroughly striking me as funny.

Hulk abruptly stiffened, then strode across the room and grabbed me up into a huge hug. “Jesus Christ, woman, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”