Knight (123 page)

A flick of my clit dropped me over the edge. I fell limp in his arms as the unthinkable ecstasy and shattering submission and dark excitement riled me into a bounding orgasm.

The crest hit me hard, stealing my breath and strength until the only thought blistering through my trembling body repeated with such honest and relieved conviction I burst into tears.

I was his.

He was mine.

Every evil of our past was lost to memory. Every monster that chased us and demon we harbored banished into hell. In that moment, we existed for each other. His presence the dominating force I craved for my own safety and protection and excitement, my submission the ultimate trust and forgiveness that offered him a second chance.

His heat filled me, his words of adoration and love mixed with the profanity of a man marking what belonged to him.

My knees gave out. Brew braced us against the wall, and his arm was all I needed to hang onto as the world shifted, morphed, and suddenly made more sense than it ever had.

“I love you,” I whispered.

His arms tightened over me, shifting his hardness ever deeper, as if testing if my words were sincere in the wake of his conquering. I arched. We both shivered as the pleasure promised more.

“Fuck, I love you so goddamned much.” Brew held me tight. “I’m gonna keep you safe, Martini. But we can’t stay here. Not after what I did. I gotta run. We can’t—”

“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered. “Where you go, I go.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“You don’t deserve to be alone.” I twisted, meeting his lips as our bodies still simmered, connected and shuddering. “No more exile, Brew. No more punishment. No more regret. You and me, till this war is done.”

“And then?”

I smirked. “You still owe me a trip to that vineyard.”

A woman sat on my bike.

Except it wasn’t a feisty blonde with a playful smirk and eyes of steel.

This time, it was a pretty little brunette with curly hair and a scowl she inherited from her father.

My bag dropped to the ground. Martini caught her breath.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured.

“You were just gonna
leave
?” Rose’s indignity echoed in the empty warehouse, each repeating syllable resonating more hurt than anger. “You weren’t gonna say goodbye?”

I exhaled. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me.”

She didn’t move off my bike, but at least I taught her how to ride it. That made her more dangerous than Martini.

“You could have tried.”

She was right. I ignored Martini’s raised eyebrow—the unspoken
I-told-you-so
I’d see all too often once we returned to the road.

Thorne lingered behind Rose, inspecting the chapel’s closed door. Anathema’s meeting room locked up tight, sealed with all the secrets the club buried. The truth stayed with us. Red did his job, the evidence was cleared, and no one would ever know our Chapel doubled as a murder scene.

“Let’s take a walk.” Thorne gestured for Martini to follow him outside.

She squeezed my arm. A reassurance.

I needed it.

I survived cartel-style assassinations and bike chases, bounties on my head and blades at my throat. I murdered my own father and had my heart broken and patched together by a woman who read me better than I knew myself.

And yet my greatest goddamned fear was a teary-eyed girl waiting on my bike.

Rose grew up. I didn’t see when it happened. One day she was the little girl who used to play on my bike, jump from the seat into my arms, and begged to go home with me at night. She once dressed her teddy bears in tiny leather jackets, sang me and Keep songs about jelly beans and bull frogs, and color-coordinated the legos we jacked from a debtor’s house.

Then, in a split-second, she grew into a woman. Quiet and gentle and stealing motorcycles to escape burning buildings and kidnappings. She was beautiful and talented.

And mine.

And I never let myself admit it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rose whispered.

I didn’t have twenty-one years to answer that question. The warehouse was cleared, but a stack of wooden pallets rested against the wall. I sat on the edge. Rose followed, but she didn’t sit.

“After everything that happened?” She said. “After The Coup forced us into all this betrayal? After I finally told you what Dad...what Blade did? Why didn’t you tell me the truth? What did you think you were protecting me from?”

“I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting me.”

“From
what
?”

I gritted my teeth. “From realizing what a goddamned stupid decision I made giving you up.”

Rose quieted, but that wasn’t good either. She had a mouth on her, a Darnell trait, but she didn’t need to scream or curse to get herself in trouble. Her silences were a middle-finger to the world. I wasn’t immune when she thought I was just her brother. God only knew what I’d have to deal with now.

“I did what I thought was right,” I said. “I was seventeen years old, and I had charges against me that were gonna stick. They sentenced me as an adult and threatened me with ten years in jail. What was I gonna do?” I rubbed my face. “I gave you to Mom and Dad because I figured they raised Keep and me to be halfway self-sufficient. I’d thought you’d at least be safe with them.”

The bile soured my throat, but Rose ignored the blood on my hands.

“Where’s my mother?”

“Dead. Overdose, about ten years ago. She ran in Keep’s circle.”

“Go figure.” She bit her lip. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Keep would ask me the same question one day. “He was only fifteen, but Dad had him hitting convenience stores. He did everything to get noticed by Dad, and none of it worked. He was a punk kid who turned into a broken man. He couldn’t help himself, and he couldn’t help me.”

“I guess.”

“He probably doesn’t remember the years we were in jail anyway. I wasn’t there to set him straight.”

“You aren’t here now either.”

“Sorry, Bud.”

“It’s not fair.” She hadn’t looked at me yet. “Why didn’t you try when you got out of prison? I was only four. I wouldn’t have known.”

My chest ached, and not the good ache that stopped my heart and put me out of my misery either. I clenched my fists.

“I would have messed you up. I wasn’t fit to take care of a kid, and I wasn’t going to risk hurting you or fucking with your head. I had to give you the best chance I could.”

“So you left me?”

“Rose, I wouldn’t have been a good father.”

The word hung in the air, bleeding guilt and regret. Rose shuffled to the crate and sat beside me. She kept her eyes on the shadows of the warehouse.

“But you were a good father.”

My throat closed. “What?”

“You acted like one.”

“Bullshit.”

Rose didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate either.

“You were my big brother, but you were the one who bought me presents. You got me dinners when Mom passed out and forgot. And remember that time I had strep throat and Mom went on the binge and Da—Blade said I was faking it? You put me on your bike and sped right to the hospital.”

“Someone had to do it. You had a hundred and three degree fever.”

“What about the time you took me to the mountains when I was eight? You taught me how to make a snowman.” Her honesty would fracture me, and I didn’t even care. “I still have that picture of us on my mirror. That was one of my favorite trips.”

Good. Then I wouldn’t tell her I grabbed her in the middle of the night and took her to a winter wonderland because Mom blacked out drinking and Dad beat her until blood poured from her ears.

“You rode me to school in sixth grade when that bully Justin Whateverhisnamewas picked on me.”

“I told you to kick his ass.”

“I did, because you taught me how to throw a jab, and then I got suspended for three days.”

“And I took you to the mall for pizza and ice cream every damn day of that suspension.” I laughed, but it turned into a groan. “That isn’t how a father should act. I should have…grounded you. Or something.”

“Wouldn’t have worked. You showed me how to sneak out of my room by going down the drain spout. And then you taught me how to climb the tree to get back up, except I fell and broke my arm.” Rose braved a look at me. “But you were the first to sign my cast.”

“Yeah. Had to practice to sign the forms CPS threw at us.”

“Brew, you were there when Dad wouldn’t give me money for a prom dress. You were the one who taught me to drive. You were the one who answered all my phone calls even if it was late or you were on a run. You came to every one of my performances. Choir. Band. Even when you had to small talk with the soccer moms in their cardigans and khakis.”

Except fucking lonely housewives was one of the perks of Rose’s childhood. “Yeah, but the moms really got off on all my leather.”

“Do yourself a favor and don’t tell Martini that.”

“Deal.”

She nudged my arm. “Remember when you tried to teach me about the birds and the bees? Except you called it the motorcycles and the—”

“
Garages
.” I grimaced. I thought I did her a service, trying to explain to the awkward kid all the shit she’d see in Pixie. But she already had the fucking lesson. Rose didn’t darken with memory. She laughed.

“And under no circumstances was a boy to park his bike in my garage or else I’d end up having...”

“A moped.”

“That’s just fucked up.”

“I didn’t teach you to swear.”

“Nope,” she said. “That was all Keep.”

I exhaled. My breath didn’t come easier with her so close. I took her hand. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m always mad at you for something.”

“Are you any more mad at me?”

“No.”

I squeezed her palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t...stop him.”

She didn’t pull away. “I didn’t tell you.”

“I would have helped.”

“I know. I just…” She had to compose herself, and that frustrated her more than the truth. “I hoped I’d never have to face it. He went to jail, and I ignored everything that was in the past, but when all the stuff with The Coup and Temple happened…”

I wrapped my arm over her, pulling her to my chest. She let me, and I kissed her forehead.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you now, Bud.”

“Except when you leave.”

“It’d be more dangerous if I stayed. Temple’s gonna be looking for Blade. It’ll only be a matter of time before they sniff out the blood. And Martini—she’s in trouble. I can’t let anything happen to her.”

“She’s too young for you.”

And now a lecture from the girl getting cradle-robbed by Thorne. I snorted. “If you went through what we went through, you’d understand why I won’t let her leave my side again.”

“Are you happy?”

“I told you not to worry about me.”

“Too bad.” She untangled herself from my arms. “Are you happy now?”

“Yeah. I am.”

The warehouse door opened, but Thorne and Martini didn’t intrude. She got him to laugh though. I didn’t think that was possible. Rose pulled away, but she kept my hand.

“When will I see you again?”

Good question. “Not sure, Bud. Temple’s making some big moves. They wiped out Martini’s home MC and their biggest rival over to the east. It’s gonna get dark.”

“Can you outrun them?”

“Ain’t no one catching me,” I said. “You keep your eyes open. You’re a big target. You’re a Darnell and you’re patched to Thorne. You gotta use your head. Stay alert.” I grunted. “And take care of Keep. He can’t do it himself.”

She nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can I...can I call you?”

I hugged her again, wondering just how the hell I was ever going to let her go. “
Anytime
. You got that? You need me for anything, I’ll be there. Understand?”

Martini’s cautious steps were less subtle than Thorne’s call.

“Sweetheart.” He wielded the nickname with every possessive affection she deserved. “They gotta go. Getting late.”

She stood, casting a look over her shoulder before pulling me into a hug again. She buried her face in my chest, just like the last time we separated. Only now, I was coming back.

I had to.

For her.

“Brew.” She stepped away only as Thorne took her hand. Her lip trembled, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You aren’t just saying you’re my father because you think it’d make me really, really happy, right?”

She knew were to aim and how to shoot to cripple a man. I sucked in a breath. It didn’t do a goddamned bit of good to shield me from the crippling emotions that’d rip off my leather, slice off my ink, and reduce me to tears. I clenched my jaw.

“You’re my daughter, Bud. And it’s about time you know how much I fucking love you.”