Authors: Lana Grayson
Luke dragged me from his men. He kept a spare bike in the garage. I wasn’t dressed to ride, and I didn’t do side saddle.
“Not gonna call me a taxi?” I asked.
He rubbed the cut on his face, but it only made it bleed more. He was too handsome for blood. It improved some men, added to the grizzled roughness that called them to the MC. Not for Luke. He was clean-cut and smart. Shining armor exchanged for a chrome bike, but it was all the same. Blood only reminded me of the war that stole too many friends and created far too many enemies.
And ruined something between us that might have become fairy tale.
Luke rubbed the blood on his pants. “I never wanted you involved in this. Where’s a safe place I can take you?”
I had no reason to doubt him, and every reason to refuse him. “Take me back to Sorceress.”
“Lyn, I’m serious.”
“They took the cash I counted for the deposit. I’d like to know how much I lost from this idiocy.”
“You almost lost your life.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Luke stood well over six-foot, two hundred pounds of solid, unyielding muscle. It wasn’t his strength or the guns that made him the most dangerous man of all. He used his head. It got him into trouble, but Luke somehow earned more respect than he deserved. I tried to pretend it wasn’t his baby blues and soothing baritone that convinced me to behave.
“If Blade Darnell is dead, we’re all in some serious shit,” he said.
I shrugged. “We’ve been, or haven’t you noticed? Just because men aren’t dying in the street right now doesn’t mean we have
peace
.”
“It’s gonna get a lot worse.”
He didn’t know the half of it, and I wasn’t about to tell him. “It’s not my concern. None of this is my business. Don’t you forget that.”
“What do you know about Blade?”
“I know if I don’t get to my club in the next hour, Thorne is going to send his men across the river, and Temple will be the least of your worries.” I lowered my voice. “We’ve been through enough today. Don’t make it worse.”
“I’m trying to protect you. You know you’re the only woman I—”
Now I got on the bike. “It’s getting late. Let’s go.”
“Lyn, I’m gonna need your help.”
What was I supposed to say to that?
He didn’t know what went down with Blade, and if we wanted to survive, if we wanted to keep the Valley in one piece, it had to stay that way.
No matter what trap Temple set, no matter how many men they sent after us, we didn’t have a choice.
I
didn’t have a choice. Too many people needed my help, and nobody was bothering to think about the consequences. Secrets stayed secret, even if it was a murder or feelings I couldn’t reveal.
Feelings I knew he felt too.
“No one can help you now, Luke,” I said. “You knew the danger when you turned from Anathema. Don’t pretend a deal with Temple isn’t a deal with the devil. I won’t get dragged down with you. Not after what you did.”
Luke set his jaw. The hard angles flexed in the dim light. His expression blended gallant tolerance with an outlaw’s aggression.
“Let’s go.”
I didn’t want to piss him off, but it happened. I hated his hardened glare. His eyes were too beautiful to waste on hatred and frustration and violence. I’d looked at him for so many years and saw only confidence and stability and integrity. How had everything gone so wrong?
And why did it hurt so much to lose something I never had?
I didn’t speak, and he wouldn’t have answered. He climbed onto the bike. The engines roared in the familiar rumble of danger and excitement. I sunk my fingers into his arms, hoping my nails pricked him, and wishing I hadn’t savored the chance to be close to him.
Luke Halley was the worst decision I never made. He wasn’t the one who got away. I pushed him from my life before he crashed into it. I broke the heart I never gave to survive the wars he started and the lives he destroyed.
I wasn’t his to save. He wasn’t mine to protect. We weren’t good for each other, but damn, he might have been my kind of challenge.
If he was framed for Blade Darnell’s death, the truth would rend the entire Valley in anarchy. It wouldn’t be a war. It would be a massacre.
And Luke would either hold the gun or he’d be the one riddled with bullets.
I had a gun to my head, a knife to my throat, and a stripper pissed at me.
If it weren’t for Blade Darnell’s death, it’d be a normal Friday.
Our church wasn’t a place of worship, and our prayers sounded more like bargains to whatever reaper came looking. The table had more chairs than men. We owned a gavel, but the officers getting orders didn’t always respect the one holding it.
I wasn’t supposed to be president of The Coup.
Hell, when I first challenged Anathema’s leadership, I meant to start a conversation, not a battle. Times changed, blood spilled, and everyone saw the cracks forming. It just so happened my gun was the loudest when the war started.
But the man who initially took command of The Coup was dead. Exorcist overextended our power, and he targeted the wrong woman. Thorne killed him and rightfully so. I had no allegiance to Exorcist beyond the patch on his cut, and that scrap of material passed to me.
So I had the gavel. And I saw what waited for us in the future.
Pain. Blood. Death.
The men in my circle were experienced in times of war. They also came to my rescue when I needed them. That was a loyalty I expected from them, but that faithfulness waned with each passing day.
I drew on a cigarette. It tasted bad, but so did blood. At least I could fumble the filter between my fingers and not long for a more dangerous implement.
“Temple grabbed me this morning. No warning. Didn’t see it coming, even before they tossed the bag over my head.”
Grim bummed a smoke. “Didn’t want to mention it, but you look like shit.”
Felt it too. “Suffice to say, they’re pissed.”
“They give a reason why?”
“Yeah, but it won’t make any sense unless you get hit in the head a couple times too.”
My guys didn’t respond. Silence was normal now. When The Coup first formed, the men were energized. Rejuvenated. Every day was a goddamned parade, and we couldn’t wait to get on our bikes and toss out bullets like candy.
Funny how time, debt, and the death of a few good men changed things.
Vega was a man with a heart as big as his gut. He followed me because he trusted me, but he liked to keep things simple. He eyed Priest, watching as my newly appointed VP picked his nails with a knife.
“Should we worry?” Vega kept one hand on the table, the other on his cell. He meant to call his girl if we had any problems. There was always trouble, but, lately, Britney stopped answering. “I thought everything was sorted out with Temple.”
“Blade Darnell is dead.”
The table collectively hissed. Priest leaned forward, and I laugh from that hyena. He said nothing, but he was interested.
“He’s dead?” Grim asked. “What the fuck happened? That sick bastard was the only goddamned reason we were sucking off Temple.”
“There’s more,” I said. “Toviel Aren lost control of Temple. Heathen took over operations.”
I needed something stronger than a cigarette. A drink might’ve helped, except I readied myself to ride at any second. I tensed for Anathema to attack, but I hadn’t recovered from the worst of my realized fears.
They had targeted Jocelyn.
She acted tough, and she handled herself in her own way, but the vision of her getting dragged off by her hair? Her legs kicking through a ripped skirt?
That image would replay in my nightmares.
I steadied my voice. “When I approached Toviel, I meant for this arrangement to benefit both Temple MC and the entire Valley. It was a bluff. In reality, there’s absolutely nothing we can offer them. Temple’s bigger, more organized, wealthier than our club ever was, split or together.”
Grim rolled the cuffs on his sleeves, exposing both the Anathema ink and the partially drawn hooded figure. The other half, the scythe, was inked on his buddy’s arm, but Reaper declined to join The Coup. The war split up men who were as close as brothers. That should have been my first warning.
“We did what they wanted,” Grim said. “Every goddamned errand. We got their money. We got their drugs. They wanted Blade Darnell out of jail, and we did it. Now the cocksucker’s
dead
?”
“And Temple’s looking for someone to blame.”
“Christ, that asshole had more enemies than friends. They kept him in solitary to protect his fucking ass in prison.”
Vega agreed. “The only allies he had, outside of Anathema, were Temple.”
“No,” I said. “Not all of Temple. Just Toviel Aren. Their friendship is the only damn reason the Valley stayed out of Temple’s control. With Toviel injured and Blade dead? Temple’s looking for war.”
Grim nodded. “Think we just gave it to them.”
I exhaled. Peace wasn’t easy. Most times it was coarse, bloody, and dirty. Some people got hurt organizing it, and some died to earn it. Blade’s own son, Brew, was the unlucky bastard who ate the bullet.
And now someone came looking for his old man.
“Temple thinks I killed Blade,” I said.
Vega swore. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Why the fuck do they think
you
killed him? If they had asked you to kneel down in his jail cell and open wide—”
I grunted. “I have a little fucking respect for myself, thanks. I didn’t even know Blade was dead. Any word on the street?”
“I’ll get all my guys out.” Grim whistled. “That’s some juicy fucking gossip to stay on the DL. Why wouldn’t Anathema have said anything? Blade’s their acting VP.”
Priest answered for all of us. “Because they’re the ones who killed him.”
Grim nodded. “You thinkin’ Thorne?”
He wouldn’t be that stupid, but the rest of my men considered it. Especially Priest. He got off on fucking with Anathema. This news would last him through three showers and a whore.
“Why wouldn’t it be Thorne?” Priest leaned over the table. “He’s banging Blade’s little girl. And I’m sure little Rose Bud told him all about what Daddy did.”
Grim and Vega grimaced, but Priest chuckled. He shared Blade’s perversions. We all saw the pictures of Rose as a child, but we didn’t get off on them like Priest. What Blade put that girl through was nothing a daughter should’ve ever experienced from her father. And it was more than enough reason for Thorne to defend his woman from those memories.
But not all of Anathema knew Blade’s crimes. Thorne wouldn’t risk upsetting his loyal men to settle a personal grudge.
I rubbed my face. The cut on my cheek stung like a motherfucker. “It wouldn’t be Thorne. He’s smarter than that. Anathema is hanging by a thread. The remaining brothers respected Blade as a member of the gray generation. He and Scotch are all they got left of the club’s golden age. What happened between Blade and his daughter is a
family
matter. Not worth starting a war.”
Grim shrugged. He didn’t light the cigarette, just left it in his mouth. “What about Keep Darnell? His brother’s dead and someone gotta look out for Rose. Think he’d do it?”
I frowned. “Keep isn’t sober enough. Without Brew, Keep’s got no control over his addiction. They got people watching him to make sure he doesn’t OD. He’d want to help his kid sister, but no way did he plan a murder without alerting half the county when he pulled the trigger.”
“Then who?” Vega rubbed his chin. A reflex. He shaved his goatee for his girl last week. Priest gave him hell for it. “Who’s going to fuck with the VP of Anathema in our city?”
“Temple?” Grim asked.
I shook my head. “No. Even without Toviel, Blade was an asset to Temple. Hell, they spent more money on that parole hearing than we did.” I hated the uncertainty. Usually I saw every possibility, every option. Blade’s death was more than a complication. It destroyed everything. “It might have been anyone. Some gangbanger looking for an answer to an insult. Maybe a whore popped him off when he got too rough and didn’t pay.”
Grim broke the cigarette in half. “What do we do?”
Easy. “Temple thinks it was me. First, I gotta find out why. Then I gotta figure out who the fuck actually killed the bastard.”
Priest scowled. “For Christ’s sake. It was
Anathema
. The longer we sit here and wait for answers, the more time we give Temple to find us.”
“Anathema didn’t do this.” I wasn’t arguing with him. “Thorne is too smart to get involved. None of his guys killed Blade.”
Grim drummed his fingers on the table. “What about the flash drive with Temple’s intel? The one that blonde gash gave you?”
That thought crossed my mind the instant my hands got bound, but even that didn’t make sense. “You think it was a trap?”
“We don’t know who the fuck that girl was, but she wasn’t your guardian angel. She called you out to the middle of nowhere, gives you a flash drive that has all of Temple’s information on it, and she doesn’t even tell you her name?”
Her name wasn’t important. Not at the time. She said she was a friend, and then I was just happy to have one. The data on the flash drive was good. That was the odd part. I expected a computer virus or some sort of tracking software. I got nothing. Only names and dates, addresses and directions, officer research and surveillance footage. All of it was recent, all of it was relevant, and it was the one thing that kept us alive.