Knight (4 page)

“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

I wished his words hadn’t tightened my stomach and fluttered my heart. It wasn’t the reaction he deserved, and it sure as hell hadn’t protected me after he split from Anathema. 

“Everything already happened,” I said. “They
kidnapped
me, Luke. They hauled me out of the dressing room without letting me get dressed. They held me at gunpoint and kept me in a damn storage closet until they forced me out to meet that mustached guy. If this is your idea of keeping me safe, no thanks. I’ll handle myself.”

He gripped the wheel tight. “Nothing is going to hurt you, Lyn. I’ll make it right—”

“I’m not yours to save, Luke. Never have been, never will be.”

“And that smart mouth is gonna get you in more trouble. Take whatever allies you can get.”

I didn’t know if he was that noble or that stupid, but we were both fucked. Temple accused him of murder, and they pinned me as an accomplice. It wouldn’t take long for them to learn the truth, but we’d be lucky to stay alive until they solved that mystery.

I twisted and looked out the passenger window. The bike patrolling our side belonged to Grim, one of the few lunatics in The Coup who hadn’t tried to assault me or my dancers. I didn’t respect him, but he was safer than most of the degenerates who left Anathema for the promise of bloodshed.

“Your guys are going to get slaughtered,” I said.

“They can handle themselves.” He glanced at me with his storybook blue eyes. “Lasted this long, haven’t they?”

Getting roughed up by Anathema wasn’t the same as fucking with Temple MC, a gang of men acting more cartel than biker club.

A spray of bullets struck the truck. I shouted, but they hadn’t hit the tires. The only reason we still lived. Luke jammed the accelerator. The engine gave a groan that sounded an awful lot like a laugh.

No dice. The truck wasn’t getting away quick. It wouldn’t be long before Temple overtook us.

Luke laid on the horn. His men sped to shelter in front of the truck. Another wave of gunfire shredded the metal walls of the hold. Only three of Temple’s men chased, but they carried enough weapons to tear us into tiny pieces for a quick burial in the desert.

I didn’t have a gun. Neither did Luke. I tore through the glove compartment searching for any sort of weapon, any blunt object that might’ve helped. We had nothing, but least the truck offered some protection. Luke warned me to duck. I crawled into the foot well as one of Temple’s men attempted to overtake us.

Luke jerked sharply to the left, clipping the bike. I rose just to watch the rider careen off the road. Our speed hovered somewhere between medically induced coma and suicide, but the biker might have stood a chance, had he rolled the right way.

I pretended not to notice the sudden bump from the back left tire.

Temple didn’t learn from their mistakes. The second rider burst upon the driver’s side door. Gunfire cracked through Luke’s window, and he shouted. Blood poured from a cut to his cheek and ear.

“Hold on!” He swore, twisting the wheel.

I regretted not wearing my seatbelt. I bounced against him and crashed into the console as he rutted the truck into the biker. Luke wiped the blood from his eyes just before we careened off the road and into the dry gully running alongside the pavement.

Luke was hurt, and rattling inside the cabin didn’t feel too good on me either. I held the wheel as he dug the glass from his cheek. It wasn’t bad. He didn’t need medical attention, but it didn’t help our escape. Another blast of gunfire from the remaining biker was as unwelcomed as it was accurate.

A bullet tore through the undercarriage. It didn’t need to strike the tire, only the components that helped maneuver it. The Coup raced forward, but Luke lost control of the truck. He slowed, opening us to an attack from my side.

I hated to do it.

I hated the thought of something so pretty, so expensive, and so
new
lost to sand and motor oil.

I armed myself with the only weapon I had and rolled down the window. My shoe had a four inch heal, was crafted from perfect Italian leather, and glistened a feisty and confident red.

At least it wouldn’t show blood.

My family enrolled me in ballet instead of softball, but I had decent aim. I lurched out the window as Luke yelled. I pitched the shoe. It spun once before slamming into the biker’s face.

Heel first.

The bike crashed.

Luke hauled me into my seat. I held up the remaining shoe with a scowl. “You owe me five hundred dollars.”

“You’re an expensive fucking rescue.”

“This isn’t a rescue.”

Luke straightened the wheel and slowed to where the truck didn’t shudder, shake, and smoke. “Give me more lip, and I’ll take you back to Temple.”

“They’ll find us anyway.”

“Just let me fucking save you.”

“Stop being so valiant, Luke. This isn’t a rescue. This is you fixing your goddamned mistake.”

“
My
mistake?” His voice edged with a profanity he’d never aim at me. “I was fucking blindsided. I didn’t even know Blade was dead.”

I did. “No, but you’ve been working with Temple for a year. You sleep in the bed you made.”

“I’ve slept with one eye open thanks to Temple. I don’t need you judging me for what I did. I had a plan that would’ve helped us all.”

“Funny how all your plans end up the same. Men are dead. Guns are aimed at me. At least you didn’t burn Sorceress down this time.”

I crossed my arms. That only pushed my chest higher. The lacy bra already revealed enough of my girls. What should’ve been a thousand dollar dance jiggled for free in a goddamned biker parade down the deserted highway. I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but now I realized what nearly happened.

Temple wasn’t just dealing drugs. They dealt in women. And while my worst experience with traffic was getting caught on the 9 during rush hour, men like Temple would have made my life…harder.

I shivered. Luke shuffled out of his jacket. He tossed it at me.

It smelled like him—of leather and cedar and a million different shattered memories and abandoned fantasies. I had a bad enough day without facing
that
misery. I pushed the jacket away and hardened my voice.

“Come on, Luke. You think I haven’t been naked before?”

“Think you probably don’t want to be half-naked now.”

He was right. “I’ll survive.”

“I’m taking you to the garage.”

Damn it. First kidnapped by Temple and then dragged to The Coup’s chosen safe ground.

I zipped the jacket over me.

“Haven’t flirted with death enough today?” I asked.

“It’s safe at the garage.”

“It’s safe at Sorceress too.”

Luke smirked. His dimples were once a measured diplomacy. Now I was the only one who remembered them. “Obviously not. You better get your five grand back from Thorne. Why the hell would I take you to Sorceress when his men can’t save you from Temple?”

“Because you haven’t got a choice. Unless you want to start a war, Sorceress is the only neutral ground you’ve got. Anathema won’t ask questions before they shoot, and you always manage to get in their crosshairs.”

“You’re coming to the garage.”

Fantastic. Whatever. So long as it was his property destroyed in the firefight this time.

I knew exactly how it’d look when I hopped out of the truck wearing Luke’s jacket. I was never a girl who tolerated
ownership
, and I refused even the concept of a property patch.

There was once a time when I was naïve enough to tolerate the attention from Luke. Then, it wasn’t a bad idea. Kinda fun. Flirty. Sexy.

That fairytale ended the day he defected from Anathema. War was a good enough reason to end a fantasy before it began.

He parked in the garage. Two closed bay doors and a handful of lunatics wouldn’t protect us, but it was a hell of a lot safer inside The Coup’s safe house than fleeing through the desert.

I hopped out of the truck as Luke hugged Grim, slapping his shoulder and offering to buy them a drink. The floor was a mess of oil and grease, and I twirled my one remaining shoe in my hand.

It shouldn’t have been awkward. Certainly not around Luke, though it was always tense anymore, especially when he caught me in his charm. The rest of the men I knew. They had once lived, breathed, and bled for Anathema. Now, they did all they could to ruin their former club.

They made their choices. So did I.

It least it was hard for them to resent a woman in a thong for adhering to her loyalty.

Luke still bled, but he accepted a clean towel from a hulking man panting from the ride. Vega. I hadn’t seen him around Sorceress since he married my best dancer. I always knew Britney wanted to become an artist, but I never thought a member of The Coup would actually pay for the rest of her college and help her find a job.

The war between Anathema and The Coup was as bizarre as it was bloodied. And the men trapped within the endless battles? Luke wasn’t a psychopathic criminal, just idealistic to a fault. I didn’t trust the rest of them.

Grim offered me a roll of paper towels. He was a man who might’ve been a heartthrob had he not preferred his women handcuffed to a bed. He winked and cast the towels from the garage into their appointed chapel, offering me a clean path to walk.

Absolutely not.

I lived by two rules, and abiding by them kept me alive and Sorceress standing in the midst of total anarchy.

First, I never got involved with any of the bikers. Even when I might’ve wanted to. Even when it hurt to stay away.

Secondly, I stayed clear of their business. I didn’t pay Anathema protection money. It was
contracted security
. They dealt in smuggled cigarettes and violence. I operated with 1099s and proper tax codes and every legal means by which I could protect myself.

That meant never stepping within one of their chapels. I didn’t care what they said in church, how they got their money, or what they did before or after they left my club.

I wasn’t changing my stripes now. Especially when I wasn’t wearing enough clothes to cover them.

Luke’s long strides mirrored everything graceful I tried to teach my dancers. He did it effortlessly, a pure movement of confidence, and he didn’t realize it. He stood before me. Without my heels, I had to look up to meet his gaze.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked.

I wouldn’t admit to it even if they had. “I’m fine.”

Luke reached for my cheek. The bruise ached, and I stilled so he wouldn’t bump it hard. It hurt enough when his fingers happened to graze my skin without an injury.

It was a pain I longed to feel, hated to forget, and suffered through for the past year.

“Son of a bitch.” His words murmured in soft threat. “You’re bruising.”

I edged away. He didn’t take the hint.

“I said I’m fine.”

His thumb brushed over my lip. What might have once been a gentle gesture only stung the cut. My lip swelled beyond pouty and into battered. Instinct kicked in, a learned behavior to protect myself—even from the men who didn’t deserve my attitude.

I slapped him across the cheek. He retreated as his men pretended to stay busy. Grim snickered.

“Shut up, Grim.” I hadn’t needed to scold him since he and Keep Darnell tag-teamed a dancer on my stage. “Luke, take me to Sorceress. Now.”

Luke didn’t rub his cheek though the red marks probably hurt. “It’s not safe for you there.”

“I’ll decide what’s safe for me.”

“Not unless you want to end up as Temple’s whore.”

“I won’t have time to get fucked if Anathema swoops in here to play hero too.”

Luke ran a bloody hand over his head, staining his thick, blonde hair crimson. “Don’t make this any harder.”

“Don’t get me kidnapped and we can play as nice as we want.”

The steel-tipped footsteps echoed against the garage’s concrete. I didn’t dignify Priest’s approach with a response, though a man like Priest took silence as consent—as well as screaming and fighting. I warned my dancers to stay clear of him. Not everyone took the warning, and not everyone made it home to Sorceress.

“You okay, Prez?” Priest crossed his arms. The leather creaked. His old patches stretched against the black, worn and faded and still bearing Anathema’s scarred demon insignia. I was surprised he kept the patches. Priest and Luke were some of the first to betray Anathema. Luke left with words. Priest slid out on blood. “You gonna let a bitch talk to you like that?”

“Yeah.” Luke said. “‘Cause it’s my fault she got hurt.”

Priest was old enough to be my father, but that didn’t stop him from putting money on my stage, and it didn’t prevent him from looking now. I resisted the urge to zip Luke’s jacket higher.

He sneered. “If she were my old lady—”

“I’m not.” I said. Odd for a group of murderers and thieves to descend into awkward silence. “And I’m not Luke’s.”

I hated how much the words embittered my tongue. I spit the truth just to admit it aloud and spare myself whatever weakness I’d felt for him in the past.

“How did your guys know where to find us?” I asked. “We were in the middle of the desert.”

Luke shrugged. “We’re not in church, Lyn.”

“And I’m not running the info to Anathema. I deserve some answers.”

“I got recon on Temple. That’s all you need to know.”

There was more to it than that, but he was right. Safer if I didn’t have a clue.

“I need a phone,” I said. The men didn’t move, even when I snapped my fingers for a cell. Great. Kidnapped again. “Unless you want Thorne riding over here with his men, I need to call off his dogs.”

Luke pointed at Grim. “Get the guys here for Church. I’ll take Lyn home.”

“I don’t need a ride home,” I said. “Take me to my club before Anathema firebombs this garage and you all get killed.”

Luke had a lot of patience, and he graced me with most of it, but he didn’t become president of a usurped motorcycle club by chance. No matter his smile, his dimples, or even the regal charm he possessed, Luke was still a dangerous man. He didn’t intimidate me. He tried, but I was smart enough to avoid challenging him. Mouthing off wasn’t a savvy business decision, especially when it was hard to dance with broken legs.