Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (95 page)

But it doesn't matter because I can't stop thinking it.

“Email me whatever shit it is that you've got going on with the city. I'll sign it.”

“Royal, wait,” she starts, but I'm already done here. I've heard what I needed to hear, and I'll keep my word. She gave me the truth, gave me exactly what I asked for.

“In the future, if you want something to happen, try asking first, love. The club already took a vote on the partnership with the city. We were all in, babe. You,” I point at her, “you're the one that fucked up. Just remember how I saved your life today.”

I slam the door on her shocked face.

Loose ends need to be taken care of, something the previous pres taught me. But I won't tell my brothers about any of this; they don't need to know. Brent and Sully, we'll take care of them. Rebecca, she's my job. But Lyric? Nobody needs to know about Lyric.

I grab my helmet from the lawn and swing my leg over my bike, running a hand down my face.

Never thought I'd see this day, the day I'd keep something from my brothers.

It goes against everything I've ever known, ever believed in. The brotherhood comes first; the club comes first. I'd give my life for any of them, and they know that.

But I won't give them Lyric's life.

Not today, not in the future.

Even if I never see her again a day in my life.

Sully Rentz is easy to track down.

Dumb shit shakes me down in the afternoon and then hits the bar in the evening. I wait for him outside, following him to his car with quiet footsteps, and then I slam my hand against the door as he tries to open it.

“What the—” He spins around just in time to get a fist to the face, crumpling back against his fancy black sedan with a groan and a gush of blood from his nostrils. When he sees me, his eyes go wide and his lower lip trembles. For Christ's sake, this man doesn't even have half a sack. His sister's got bigger balls than he does. “Please don't hurt me,” he says, covering his nose with a shaking hand. “Clayton Moore—”

“Doesn't mean shit to me.” I lift my hammer out of my belt and slam it against my open palm. “Now, you listen to me, you dumb fuck. If your dad wasn't the mayor, you'd be dead right now. Do you understand that?”

Sully just stares at me like I'm the devil come to take him down to hell.

In a way, I guess I am.

“Here's what's going to happen,” I say, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Technically, this isn't my job. Glacier or Smoky should be out here with a couple of prospects, laying the law down for Mr. Rentz. But I need an outlet before I go and see Rebecca. Sully Rentz is going to hurt tonight for a purpose. “I'm going to beat the shit out of you, punk ass. It's going to hurt like hell, and for a little while tonight, you're going to wish you were dead.”

Sully sneaks his right hand into his pocket, like I'm stupid enough to miss a move like that. I reach out with a lightning quick grip and wrap my fingers around his wrist until he screams and drops his cell to the ground with a crack. Think the screen just broke. What a shame.

I take another quick look around, but there's nobody here. Sully parked a ways away from the bar, probably trying to make sure nobody from his dad's office spies his car in this shitty ass part of town.

I put my foot down on the cell and lean in until I hear another satisfying crack.

“A couple of my boys are on the way,” I tell him and enjoy the way his face gets even paler, bloodless, twisted with fear. Thing is, he doesn't know how lucky he really is. By all rights, he should end up six feet under like his friend, Brent, is going to. But then we'd catch heat for all of this and beyond all things, that's what the club and its members want to avoid. “When they get here, they'll call the cops and tell 'em they saw your ass getting beat by a couple of random thugs during a mugging gone wrong. They chased them off, and they're fucking heroes. You'll corroborate their story.”

“Like hell,” Sully says, a bit of backbone in him after all. I grin, but it's not my usual smile. He can see it, taste the wicked beautiful brutality that's hanging heavy in the air.

“Either you'll take your beating like a man and feed the cops that exact story, or you'll end up like Landon.” Sully swallows, his eyes bugging out of his skull. “My brother is dead, Sully, and you're here dancing on his grave because, what, Clayton Moore paid you a couple hundred grand to piss on my doorstep?”

“Landon was already working with Clayton when I was brought into the fold. He … it was him who came to me,” Sully sputters. “He's the one who dragged Brent and me into this.”

“When?” I snap, getting up close and personal with Sully Rentz, my hand fisted in the front of his white button-down. “When the fuck did he start talking to you about all this crap?”

“Six months ago,” Sully says, spilling secrets like a cheap slot machine. One penny in and I'm already reaping a fortune.
Landon, you cock sucking son of a bitch. How? Why? What the fuck happened to you?
“He contacted me to get an in at the mayor's office, and I contacted Brent.”

“What about her?” I ask, my throat tightening as I let go of Sully and take a step back, my hammer still clutched tight in my right hand.

“Her?” Sully asks, clearly confused. “You mean Toni?”

“Who the fuck is Toni?” I growl and he cringes.

“The Deputy Mayor,” he mumbles. “Before Lyric. We paid her to draft the agreement between the city and the Wolves so that you'd never agree to it. But then she quit and Lyric dumbed it down to a point where it might actually be
helpful
to the club.”
Lyric.
The sound of her name makes me sick—and not in the way you might think. I really am a dumb shit. Even now, I want to see her, kiss her, fuck her.

“Why? What the fuck does this stupid ass agreement have to do with Mile Wide or Clayton Moore? It's symbolic at best, a waste of time at most.”

“I … I don't know.” I lift up my hammer and Sully collapses back against the car, sliding to the ground with stark terror burning in his gaze. “I have no fucking idea, man! Please, God, don't hurt me. I don't know anything else. I swear to Christ. Oh God, Jesus, shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“Lyric. She called Brent down here to put pressure on the club, to get us to sign the agreement. Told me herself. Why? What part is she playing in all of this?” I don't realize it at first, but I'm holding my breath. I exhale as I wait for his raddled brain to come up with a response.

“Brent was already planning on coming over here anyway. He was under investigation with the FBI, and he needed an out. Clayton promised to give that to him.”

“So Lyric?” I remind him, gritting my teeth. “She in on this?”

“What? No, no, I don't think so. She wants to be a senator or something, I don't know. Lyric's not … not like this. She's too … no, she just wants my dad's approval. Jesus Christ.”

I exhale and steal a cig from my pocket, lighting up as I look down at Sully. Relief floods through me, cooling some of the wild anger in my heart, putting a dash of logic back in my brain. If Lyric was involved with Mile Wide, there really would be nothing I could do save get her the hell out of Dodge.

Too bad that's not an option for her brother.

I park my smoke between my lips and raise my hammer.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lyric

After Royal leaves, I slump down to the floor and sit there for a while, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe.

Just remember how I saved your life today.

My life. I put my life on the line and for what? The club had already voted on my proposition? Why the hell didn't Royal just tell me that?
Because he was playing with you, because he's a dangerous man from a different world, because you know nothing about him. Nothing.

Royal McBride is a stranger.

So why doesn't he feel like one? And why does my heart feel so empty and broken? Losing the trust of an acquaintance I met on Monday and pissed off on Friday shouldn't matter, especially not when I'm getting exactly what I wanted in the first place. Signed papers, Dad's re-election, a leg up for my future career.

I put my head in my hands and try to catch my breath.
The look on his face …
God. Royal's expression was awful. So, so, so, so awful. I might as well have shoved my hand into his chest and ripped out his bloody, beating heart, tossed it onto his dead brother's grave.

A sound escapes my throat, a sad small sound that echoes the rapid thumping of my heart. I'm not stupid; I know that what just happened is a blessing in disguise. Royal knows the truth, knows that it was
me
that got this all started in the first place. Hopefully that gets Sully and Brent off the hook for whatever stupid thing it is that they've gone and done.

I lift my head up, my eyes focused on the front door.

Royal was a fling, a bit of sexy nothing to enjoy and forget about. Senators can't marry—can't even
date—
outlaw motorcycle club presidents. I'm sure he thought the same from the start, that I was just another fuck. The mayor's daughter … must've been exciting, right?

I sniffle and force myself to my feet.

This is good. This is what needed to happen. Papers signed, truth out, Royal gone. All in all, it's been in a successful week.

So why do I feel so sick inside, like something bad is just waiting to happen?
Or like I already miss him so hard it hurts?
I blink away that thought and try to focus on something else. My mind flickers back to our confrontation as I turn and fumble around in my grocery bags until I finally find the missing bottle of wine.

He … you killed your vice president.

My own words echo loudly in my head as I think about that. I said it; he didn't deny it. He
didn't
deny it.

I grab a wineglass and slosh some Chardonnay into it, not caring that it splashes over the edge and onto the counter. When I lift it to my lips, I drink the whole thing in one go.

Chills climb down my spine, dragging goose bumps up on my arms. I bite the end of my robe's sleeve and close my eyes, trying to get ahold of my emotions. Royal and I … we have a connection, something I've never felt before. It's new and different and powerful enough that when I think really hard about it, I get a little dizzy. I knew things couldn't work between us before, but that was on a logical level.

Now, I'm feeling everything in my gut.

“Shit.” I set my wineglass down and run my fingers through my wet hair. Trying to find Royal, trying to talk to him right now, would probably be a big mistake on my part. Besides, what am I going to do? Walk up to him and ask if he really did kill his vice president? And then ask if he's in love with me, even though he shouldn't be because it's too soon and it's too wrong and it'd never work?

Royal isn't going to tell me anything about anything anymore, and sticking my nose even further into club business is not a good idea. Whatever happened to his previous VP, I can't do anything about it. Not a damn thing. What I need to do is get a good's night sleep, wake up tomorrow and head into the office. It might be Saturday but as my dad always says,
politics don't rest on the weekends.

My heart hurts and my conscience throbs with guilt, but if I've ever been good at anything, it's carrying on and pretending things are okay when they aren't.

I pick my wine up, grab my Kindle from my desk drawer and head into my bedroom. By the time I climb under the blankets, there are already tears streaking down my face again. Doesn't matter. I'll let them fall and in the morning, it'll be like they were never there. I'll get up, get dressed and go about my day like normal. Right now, I need to play my part, fill my lot in life the best way I know how, the way I've always done.

Because this, right here, is all I'll ever have.

Sometime later, after I've finally managed to get to sleep, I hear the front door open, my eyes flying wide, my stomach twisting with fear.
I forgot to lock the front door after Royal left.
I was so caught up in everything that'd just happened that it didn't even occur to me.
You piss off the president of an outlaw motorcycle club off and you forget to lock the door?!
Not that it would matter, would it? If the Alpha Wolves needed to come into my house, I imagine that a deadbolt and a chain wouldn't stop them.