Knight (70 page)

She had to trust me first.

Rose strummed the guitar again, fixing another fret. She giggled at the horrible note and apologized like it somehow mattered to me.

She thought it did.

Fuck.

She already trusted me. The guitar was just the cherry on top I already stole from the kid. I saved her life. Fucked her. Offered her gifts.

Christ, in MC terms, that was about as serious as a year-long relationship and taking a vacation with our parents.

Except I didn’t think Rose wanted to go visit her Daddy anytime soon, and trusting me was as dangerous as leaving her with Exorcist.

“I might need to get some new strings,” she said.

“Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“It’s just a couple strings.”

Rose’s fingers tangled in the frets. She avoided my gaze and continued tuning.

“It’s more than that.” She bit her lip, plumping it out like she meant to seduce me right there in front of the rest of the club. Rose didn’t try it, but it wasn’t like an audience stopped anyone in Anathema before. “Thank you, Thorne.”

I smirked before I could prevent it.

Didn’t know how I managed staying awake this long without a shot. Gun or drink. I flagged down Keep for something—anything—from the bar. The scruff on my chin grew in overnight. If nothing else I’d shave and aim for an artery.

The diva being happy made me suicidal. That was fucked up. But Christ. I wasn’t a monster. Of course I wanted her to be happy. She was cute. Sweet. Had hips that wiggled with the best dancers in Sorceress and the guts to hotwire a stolen motorcycle to save that ass on her own. A woman like that deserved a beat-up guitar and sex that left her voice smoky and rough.

Even an untuned guitar in her hands sounded better than half of the shit in the jukebox. She quietly hummed and winked. The next song popped on. Something Rolling Stones. She played the solo by ear, earning applause from one of the prospects. I pointed him back to his mop.

The minutes passed. She didn’t ignore me. She just forgot I was there.

I had her every attention last night, but I lost it in a three chord progression. She loved the six string as much as I loved six loaded chambers.

Rose buried herself within the guitar. Tuned the instrument to the exclusion of all else. I understood intensity. I understood passion and the need to do what needed to be done. I’d break a perfect girl’s heart as a sacrifice to my own obsession. I understood why I was so fucked up. But no one, not even Rose’s brothers, thought to find out what happened to her.

I wished I hadn’t guessed.

Rose deliberately ignored Keep. He offered me a shot glass of everything and anything amber he stocked behind the shelves, and then he got lost. About the best thing I could say about the man lately.

“Last night...” I said.

Rose paled. She strummed a bad note. She flinched, but she pretended to shrug. Like the sound didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t killed her in imperfection.

I clenched my jaw. “I didn’t use anything.”

The implication held in the air. Rose glanced at me. She didn’t get it.

“Any
protection
.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. Her fingers tickled over the strings. “That’s okay.”

I tilted my head. I was smarter than that with women. Usually I discarded them with the condom. Rose fiddled with the guitar and started another song.

“No, it’s not,” I said. “I don’t want it to be a problem.”

“It won’t be.”

I waited. She did too. The guitar twanged.

It wouldn’t survive the afternoon.

“Maybe you’re remembering what happened last night a little differently.”

Rose flushed. She whispered, checking over my shoulder to ensure Keep didn’t listen from the bar.

“I’m on the pill.”

“You’re on the...” I leaned away. “Why the hell are you on the pill?”

“What?”

I held her gaze. “You were a virgin.”

She didn’t blink. “I didn’t think I had to explain women’s anatomy to you.”

“I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

“It does other things. I’ve been on it for a long time, okay?  Lots of girls are, even if they’re...”

“Virgins.”

“Y—yeah.”

The encore smile faded from her lips. She doubled her efforts on the guitar. I couldn’t hear the notes. The blood rushing in my ears muffled everything but the roar of my rage.

I had no doubt she considered herself a virgin, but neither of us were idiots. I counted the hours she had been gone, kidnapped by Ex. She didn’t say anything about what happened, but he beat her up pretty good. Tore her dress. Left her terrified.

It’d be a pleasure to finally kill that son of a bitch, but it’d take all my willpower to not immediately follow him to hell so I could torture him for all eternity.

“You didn’t bleed.”

I don’t know why I said it. Why I felt like cutting her open just to gut out her nightmares. I did it anyway. Wasn’t like it’d be the worst thing I did to her.

“I didn’t...
bleed
?” Rose gripped the guitar until her fingers turned white. I didn’t get any blood on my cock last night, but I’d get plenty on my table when she sliced her hand on the guitar strings. “Are you
serious
?”

“I just thought—”

“A lot of girls don’t...” The embarrassment choked her. “I didn’t realize you’d want to toss the sheets out the window and declare your victory like some medieval king.”

“It’s not that.”

“Look, some girls break their hym—” She blushed a furious crimson. “You can lose it horseback riding or playing a sport or, I don’t know, riding on the back of a motorcycle for all your teenage years.”

“So that’s what happened?”

“What else would have happened?”

I didn’t speak.

Neither did she.

Rose cracked first. It wasn’t the victory I wanted. She wound tight and looked for any excuse to dodge my gaze and skip out of the booth. She could run or cry, but neither would get her very far.

I wasn’t used to people lying to me. Especially women.

But when did I ever let a woman close enough to care what the hell she said, even if it was a lie?

My temper was not something Rose should’ve fucked with.

And Rose was not a girl anyone, ever, should have hurt. That privilege belonged to me, and, if I had it my way, I’d be the only one to destroy her.

“Are you going to play or not?” I tossed my drink back.

Rose slowly untangled her fingers from the strings. “Do you want me to?”

“Liked what I heard at your gig.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I shifted in the booth. “Play now. Second showing for Keep.”

Her eyes narrowed on her brother. He pushed another beer toward Gold. If Rose could have shattered the bottle with her stare, Keep would have been shredded.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” she said. “But I’ll play a song for you. Any requests?”

The smile returned. I didn’t realize how much I feared I lost it until she flashed the timid smirk at me again. My heart hardened more than my cock.

“You need to forgive him.”

The strings squealed under her hand.

“
Forgive
him?” She spoke a little too loudly. Her cheeks flared, but not in shame. “He skipped my gig to get high, then almost OD’d while I was
kidnapped
. Why would I ever forgive him?”

She had a point. If everything in Anathema hadn’t depended on her patching things over with her traitor, junkie brother, I’d have agreed.

“He’s your brother,” I said. “Brew too. Neither of them wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Yeah, well. A lot of bad things did happen.” She focused on the guitar. “I can play anything from Clapton to Katy Perry.”

“Do it for me.”

“I don’t know that song.”

I sighed. “Make up with them for me.”

“Why?”

“They’re my brothers too.”

She laughed. “You can have them.”

“They’ve been good to you.” I sipped my whiskey, but I didn’t know any snakes in the grass that could hold their alcohol. “They wanted to help with the music. And they gave you money.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

I held her gaze. “Make me understand.”

She sagged against the booth. The guitar went silent.

“Brew is obsessed with everything Anathema. That’s his addiction, and he’s every bit as strung out as Keep. I don’t know which one will die first, but the drugs and the club will kill them both.” She buffed the guitar with her sleeve. “I can’t watch it happen.”

“You really think that?”

“I know it.”

“Keep’s been fucked up for a while.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why do you think he’s shooting up again?”

“I hoped you’d tell me.” She stared at the guitar. “I haven’t been around for a while.”

“It’s not a cheap habit.”

“I don’t think Keep worries about money.”

“Why?”

“He always has it,” she said.

“Think he’s skimming from Pixie?”

She frowned. “No? Who said that?”

I shook my head. “Just trying to figure it out.”

“You and me both.”

“All the more reason to make peace when you can.” The words were just as much a poison as whatever Keep used to get himself off. “You can stop him from hurting himself.”

“Only Dad has that power.”

“Maybe he’d have some idea?”

“I need to play a song.” Rose slipped from the booth. “
Want
to play. I
want
to play a song.”

She panicked. I swore. Not what I needed.

“But you’re right,” she said. “He’s my brother. I should...help him.” She twirled the guitar in her hand and called for him. “Keep?  Do you still have your harmonica?”

Keep groaned. She pouted. It worked, and I was glad she aimed the lip away from me.

“Upstairs on my desk.” Keep rubbed his face. “What the hell are you going to make me do?”

“Billy Joel?”

“Aw, Bud, come on.”

“
Please
?”

He waved her away. She grinned and handed the guitar to me, hopping up the stairs to his room. Keep poured himself a tall glass of courage and mixed it with something even stronger. Gold laughed from the bar.

“She’s got you tied around her little finger,” Gold teased.

“Yeah. More than just me.” Keep tossed his drink back as he eyed me. “Except I know how to keep her happy.”

“Oh, I made her very happy.” I winked.

Whatever drugs fizzled his brain hadn’t destroyed his common sense yet. He didn’t take the bait, just frowned and chugged the rest of his drink.

Rose stormed down the stairs, and her irritation crested as Keep held his hands up in surrender. He gestured for her to toss the harmonica. She pitched it at his head instead and broke a glass behind him. He swore and bent under the counter to pick it up.

She angled away from him, her voice soft as she took the guitar.

“You were right.”

I couldn’t tell if it was frustration or genuine heartbreak aching within her words.

“He does need help,” she said. “I just don’t know what to do for him.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”’

She tossed the little packet on the table. The meth bounced toward me.

Red
.

“Maybe we can do an intervention?” She didn’t want to beg, but the tremble of her lip screamed for help. “He’ll listen to you. You’re his president. More family than me at this point.”

I took the drugs. Curled the baggie into my hand.

Red meth.

Ex’s newfound stash. His drugs, sitting at
my
table, touched by
my
Rose.

Keep called for Rose and brayed a bad melody on the harmonica. Rose covered her ears, but Keep wiped his mouth and started again. The smooth, jazzy notes dueled with her gentle guitar. He danced around her, earning a reluctant smile that blended into a beautiful laugh.

She wanted me to help her big brother, to save him. She looked to me to ease her conscience and keep her family as whole as one dead druggie mother, one convict father, and a traitorous brother could be.

Rose sang her heart out. Sweet, perfect melodies that filled the club with more warmth than it deserved.

Keep made a deal with Ex. Sold his soul, his club, and his sister for a pocketful of meth and the blood of every last fallen brother who died as a result of this godforsaken club.

She was right. I was his president. His family.

I’d also be his murderer.

I couldn’t sneak out of the bed.

Thorne owned a king-sized mattress, but he was a six-foot-three tattooed monster. He didn’t cuddle. He trapped, wrapped a thick arm over my mid-section like he knew I’d run.

And I probably would.

I had to.

I didn’t know why I hadn’t yet. I shouldn’t have liked it, but I never wanted to leave the bed. I craved to explore his body, to learn just how it was possible he teased and treated and threatened all in the same movements. His lust silenced my panic and his desire muffled my fear with the harsh clip of the headboard against the wall.

I used to hate that sound. With Thorne, it was the most beautiful music.