Knight (46 page)
Authors: Lana Grayson
“Dad, listen to what you’re saying!” I stood. His gaze followed—invisible shackles binding me to our name, our home, our pride. “You’re asking us to abduct, rape, and impregnate our
step-sister
.”
“For the family.”
“Absolutely not.”
He asked the impossible, and yet his eyebrows rose, as if he realized the obscenity of the plan. Still he chose to ignore every modern convention of rationality and decency.
And for what?
The family?
No.
This wasn’t for the Bennetts. And it wasn’t for the company.
This was vengeance. Pure sadism. He planned an end to a bitter feud that began before I was born and was bound to continue after I died.
“We won’t do this.”
My father said nothing. He stared, and I struggled to endure the uncompromising commands. I braced for the worst, but I hadn’t anticipated his brutality. I was twenty-nine years old, and he yet surprised me.
Horrified me.
“Nicholas, you are my eldest son. You are my heir, my legacy to this world.” He spoke softly, intentionally forcing me to hold my breath just to listen. “But understand, I have two other sons.”
“Perhaps they’d prefer to do this crime,” I said.
“Doubtful.”
“Then you realize this is a mistake.”
“Nicholas, you will control the company and this family
alone
, as it has been set for generations.”
“I understand.”
“I have no real need for two additional sons.”
The implication struck like a blade to the throat. I didn’t doubt his threat. A Bennett lost his naivety at a young age. My father had no cause to lie.
“You would harm your own flesh and blood?” I asked.
“You would deny your family the ultimate wealth, security, and vengeance?”
My father stood, a lurking devil.
“I love this family,” I said.
“Then protect it.”
“From you?”
“From any danger. The decision rests with you, Nicholas. Convince your brothers to capture and breed Sarah Atwood, or...” His pat to my shoulder suddenly gripped, pinching hard against a nerve he favored to bring me to my knees as a child. I didn’t wince. “You will be responsible for what happens to this family.”
He sipped the rest of his wine and left me to the silence of the study.
What choice did I have?
I would always put my family first…
I hope you enjoyed that sneak peek, but Sarah and Nicholas’s story is just beginning…
The Complete Trilogy is now available! Click here if you can handle the Bennett Men...
Acknowledgements
First, I just want to thank all of my fans and readers for taking a chance and—hopefully—enjoying the world of the Anathema MC. From the first sentence I wrote, I knew these books were going to be my babies. I couldn’t have started this journey without everyone’s support while I wrote Warlord, and Exiled was the book that helped me to finally quit my job and become a professional author. Thank you all so much for your thoughts, your messages, your support, and enjoying the series as much as I do!
Second, I have to thank my husband because, seriously, that man is the only reason I remember to feed myself. He’s done everything for me while I scramble to get books published. The real secret behind Lana is my hubby. He might not wear a cut—and I hope never wants a motorcycle—but he’s just as much a hero to me.
Third, my beta readers and partners in crime—Kelley Harvey and Winter Renshaw. You guys are always so eager to help, calm me down, and figure out this crazy indie world. Thank you so much for procrastinating with me. ;)
So, I hope all of you are ready for more books! I have something super special planned for February 2016…a super sexy BDSM trilogy with a lot of suspense. For all the details…
Keep tabs on me through Facebook or
And you can email me at
[email protected]
.
Thank you guys!
Rose
For so long I wanted nothing more than to escape the Anathema MC.
One mistake and suddenly I’m in deeper than I ever thought, a pawn in a war where I don’t belong, and the bait for a warlord more dangerous and more tempting than any man I ever met.
Too many secrets plague the Anathema MC, too many traitors and lies and
deadly consequences.
And they all begin with me…
Warlord (Anathema Series
)
Copyright © 2014 by Lana Grayson
Published by Lana Grayson
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design
: Rebecca Berto
Cover Images Purchased from
:
http://depositphotos.com
“I swear, this is the last time I’ll ever ask to borrow money.”
I hated saying it, but I asked in such a caffeine-fueled rush maybe the plea sounded innocent. More like a business venture and less like measured desperation.
I stared at the chipped table, praying the other patrons in the diner couldn’t hear the conversation over their chewing. For once, Dominic’s rubbery chicken and crusty eggs might’ve been a godsend. With my brothers shadowing the restaurant, our usual crowd didn’t have the courage to approach me with complaints about the food. No one came near us.
Or even looked at us.
My coworkers cowered in the kitchen. Only the bravest waitress snuck outside to snap a picture of the Harleys parked under the glow of the street light.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t listening. The grinding of our out-of-tune jukebox couldn’t muffle the fading optimism in my voice. The garbled Bon Jovi song skipped into unrepentant silence.
Everyone watched me ask the leather-bound, tattooed, hulking men for money.
They probably thought it was dangerous. They were right.
Keep and Brew let me talk. I tongue-tied my way through the conversation, tripping over my request and rambling through my shattered pride with wavering coherency. For the first time, my brothers didn’t have a smart-ass response. They didn’t interject with some charming, I-told-you-so smirk. For years I wanted them to just listen to me.
And, now, when life gave me only the sour lemon rinds, I finally had their attention.
They knew it too. I had no other reason to invite them to the diner after six months of radio silence. Six months of avoiding motorcycles. Tattoos. I even switched tables when anyone wearing more leather than a wallet claimed a seat in the restaurant.
I asked for help, and everything I worked so hard to create smote into road cinders only to be brushed off their worn leather. The emblem stitched on the back of their vests didn’t belong in my life. The scarred demon dual-wielding swords hadn’t haunted me for months.
I knew a mistake when I made one. Luckily, this would be my last. With their help, I’d finally make my way to the top—of the world, of the charts, it didn’t matter. I had a plan. Things were going to be different. Better.
Good
.
“So the hipster coffee house was very trendy.” I sighed as my brothers shifted. I might have invited them to the gig, but a vegan cafe was no place for the leather-bound men. “And I met this sweetheart violinist. We played at a fundraiser. Over the weekend I signed on for
two
events.”
The jukebox screeched into silence. Neither of my brothers spoke.
“This audition is a really good opportunity.” I twirled a fork without looking up, tapping a quick beat against a shredded napkin. “It’s a nice music club. Like, they have poetry readings and book signings and jazz sets. If I get the gig, I could do some acoustic nights.”
Brew frowned. Keep exhaled. The same reactions Dad gave when I talked about breaking into music. I hated that they looked so much like him, especially as they got older. Keep had the decency to shave his hair, but Brew let his grow long and welcomed the gray around his temples. Each year silvered another couple hairs, but I was just glad Brew still had a head to salt-and-pepper. The Anathema MC took enough men before they hit their late thirties.
“You need money for this audition?” Keep’s voice edged hard, more Axl Rose than Eric Clapton. His familiar baritone shadowed with impatience. “Bud, it ain’t a job if you got to pay for it.”
“Please don’t call me
Bud
.”
“Why not?”
The fork clattered onto the table. I didn’t bother picking it up. “That was Dad’s nickname for me.”
Brew snorted. “So none of us can use it?”
“I don’t want a handle.” I pointed to the tag on my little dress. “I’ve earned my real name.”
“Fine,
Rose
. Tell me why we gotta front the money for you to get this gig.”
“My guitar broke.” It was the first time I admitted it since the duct tape and superglue failed to hold the boards together. “I can’t fix it. I need an instrument, and I can’t lug a piano on the stage.”
“Well, hell.” Despite the dark goatee and scar on his cheek, Brew grinned liked the teenager I remembered when I was a child, before the tattoos and cut and gray. “Every artist needs a tool. You think you can get this gig?”
“I hope so.”
Keep trained his gaze on the diner’s front door and the plate-glass windows exposing us to the street. His blue eyes only occasionally fell on me, but I expected that. My brother never let his guard down. Keep said I heard songs other people couldn’t, but he saw the dangers most people ignored. I only hoped the dangers stayed far from the diner and my brothers.
But that was a fool’s prayer. Especially now.
