Knight (95 page)

I wasn’t making any sense. I sucked in a breath. Red talked at me. I didn’t listen. I didn’t care what he said, just that he was saying it. Enough madness and bloodshed stained my life in the past twenty-four hours. The last thing I needed was my cousin caught in the middle of this, trying to bargain my life away from men who didn’t have time to fight to save theirs.

“I’m so glad you aren’t here,” I whispered. “Red, what the hell is going on? Who killed Kingdom MC? Did Goliath or Sam say anything?”

“I haven’t heard a damn thing. How long have they been dead?”

“I didn’t think to ask them.”

“Sam talked to them before you left.” He not-so-silently counted the hours. “You were supposed to be there last night. What happened?”

“I
told
you. I convinced Noir to stop for food. I hoped he had information about the deal. I tried to find out who he was.”

“And?”

I sighed. I learned plenty about him, but nothing that helped us, and nothing that my cousin needed to hear about my reactions to him. I covered my face with my hand. Sticky. Blood stained my cheek. Just another cut. Another injury.

I survived a firefight, motorcycle crash, and now a beheading. Lady Luck was apparently on my side. I never had a good relationship with her before, but damn was I glad I suddenly got to meet her.

“Martini, say something.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t know, or I didn’t get it out of him. It all happened so quick. These Temple guys showed up and the game completely changed.”

“They’re not local.”

“So you’ve heard of them?”

“They’re big.” Red swore. “They got the money, the men, and the drugs to make our lives a living hell. And they’re after Noir?”

“I think so. We lost them and stayed at a motel for the night.”

“Jesus, are you okay?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Are you safe now?”

I shrugged. The trees seemed relatively harmless. “What do you think?”

My cousin figured things out quick. Math, science, music. Nothing challenged him except the law, and, even then, he might have made a killer lawyer if he respected authority. But he hadn’t seen this coming. He said nothing, and his silence was the loaded gun pushing at both our heads.

“I don’t think Temple would come all this way just to fuck with Noir,” Red said. “That’s a lot of miles for one grudge.”

“Yeah, but…” I tried to forget the pressure of Brew’s body over mine. My fingers still traced the angry ink covering his chest and arms. The word
Anathema MC
played in my mind. But I didn’t reveal that part of him. “This guy isn’t a small town meth dealer. He’s the real deal.”

“Great. So you’re trapped in a tomb with a troubled loner and one of the biggest MCs in the west chasing you.”

I nodded. “Yeah. And we gotta figure out who killed these guys.”

“No!” Red’s chastisement rang through the phone like a shake to my shoulders. “Are you crazy?
You
don’t do anything.
You
get the hell out of there.”

“Red, five men have been
murdered
.”

“No. Five
Kingdom MC officers
were murdered. They aren’t innocent. These were the men who were gonna keep you captive while Goliath and Sam dicked around getting them God-knows-what.” He exhaled. “Where the fuck is Noir now?”

Good question. I surveyed the woods. He couldn’t have been far behind me. He stopped yelling my name though. I hoped it was out of caution and not because someone else chased me.

“He’s at the house. I think.”

“You think?” Something else broke. I hoped Red wasn’t trashing a hotel room, but it was better than fucking up a dealer’s house. We didn’t have many friends on the eastern half of the state. “Find him fucking quick.”

“Why?”

“So he doesn’t leave your ass there, Martini.
Think
about it. Sacrilege, Kingdom,
everyone
knew you were supposed to be at that house!”

Yeah, no shit. It was all I thought about. Over and over and over again, so much so I felt washed in the blood of the bodies and just as cold and hollow.

“That’s not their normal safe house. Kingdom set up there specifically for this drop. It was a secret location.” Red swore. “But whoever killed them did it to fuck with this deal. Don’t you get it? If they think they’re missing a material fucking witness to the crime—”

“I didn’t see it happen.”

“You saw a pile of corpses. An empty house.”

“No one knows we made it here but you.”

“And Noir.”

“Yeah...and him. But he didn’t kill them. He was with me the whole night.”

Red snorted. “Christ, Martini, you know how to pick them.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Fuck you, Red. I called you for help!”

He sighed. Thinking. Always thinking, but never doing anything that would help himself. Sure, he cleaned up after others, but he used his education and experience to fix everyone else.

But I recognized the catch in his voice. I had heard it ever since we were kids—when we ran around the neighborhood terrorizing the other children and mortifying our parents when they faced the angry mothers at Sunday Mass.

“Get the hell out of there,” he said.

“And go where? Home? Back to Goliath? Christ, he’ll kill me for not being there when it went down. He’ll take this out on me.”

“You can’t stay there. Not until we figure out why Kingdom got chopped to bits.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I ran a hand through my hair. “My only ride is Noir.”

The thought hit us at once. The best and worst ideas come to life in a single split decision that would either fuck me over or save my ass, depending on which side of the gun I landed.

“Make a break for it?” I asked. “For good?”

“What choice do you have?”

“There’s always a choice,” I said. “It’s the options that suck.”

“You can’t stay. Kingdom’s gonna be looking for blood. They’ll burn down this side of the state. And Goliath—”

“Noir won’t take me anywhere, not with Temple on his ass. He was dropping me here and offering Kingdom ten grand not to touch me.”

Red’s voice hardened. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you tell him. I’ve heard enough about Noir. He’s just as fucking dangerous as whoever killed Kingdom. And those Temple assholes are chasing him for a reason. If you get him on your side, you’ll be safe. Get out of there, out of the state, away from our territories.”

“And I’m supposed to do…what? Ask him nicely for a ride? Because he was so amenable to that before.”

He snickered. “Don’t play fucking coy. You know how to get what you want. Always did. You sigh and giggle and bat your goddamned eyelashes, and you
make
him want to help you!”

“It won’t work on him.”

“He’s a man, right?”

A perfect example of one. “Yeah.”

“He’s not gay?”

Pinning me to the bed while his hardness pressing into my leg in pure, feral aggression disproved that. “No. He’s not.”

“Then do your fucking magic. Flirt. Cry. Sleep with him. Who cares! Make him promise to protect you until we figure out what the hell happened.”

“I’ll try.”

“Get on his bike and ride as far as he is willing to take you. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come back.”

It was my turn to laugh. “You think it’ll ever be safe?”

He hesitated. “Not with that psycho running things. Goliath will murder you if he thinks you’re trying to leave him. And that’s if you’re lucky.”

“Yeah.” The thought sobered me. I stuffed my fear deep down, coiled into a tight ball where I’d deal with it later, once I was warm and far from the nightmare of blood. “He’s not going to let me go.”

“Better to ask forgiveness.” Red sighed. “Start practicing your apology now. It’ll take a lot more than a few smiles to sort him out.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah. You’ll probably have to do that too.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Just be glad you’re still alive to be helped.”

A twig cracked somewhere beyond the trees. I stiffened, my hand coiled over the phone. Red spoke, but my pulse roared the blood through my ears. I reached to my side and curled my fingers over the first decent rock I found. It wouldn’t do much against a gun, but ten years of fast-pitch softball was worth more than a trip to the state finals. My grip tightened, but the gun cocked before I had a chance to get away.

Brew leaned over me. Nudged me with the barrel. I swallowed.

“Red,” I whispered. “I’ll have to call you back.”

The girl ran, but she couldn’t escape.

I was bigger. Faster. I caught her even with a headache that throbbed like I poured motor oil in my skull and lit it on fire.

I tracked Martini into the woods, crept up behind her, and had her in my grasp before she defended herself.

The thought might have once gotten me hard enough to split the seams in my pants. Now, the motor oil dripped down my throat, coated my guts, roiled with fear.

If she couldn’t even get away in acres of uninhabited woods, she’d never elude the men who murdered an entire crew of Kingdom’s officers. They were probably hunting her already. The three Temple fucks sure as hell got a good look at her while she rode with me.

Martini was cute, and she might have ruled the Sacrilege MC with a smirk, but in the real world? Where drugs and trafficking meant five men were beheaded for setting up camp in a formally uncontested territory? She was the very definition of collateral.

Collateral for what her pussy was worth.

Collateral damage when her hulking lover and his jerkoff president pissed on the wrong contacts.

Collateral to her MC’s needs, the business that would ultimately bleed her dry.

I saw it happen again and again, to women just as innocent, just as trapped as her. Difference was, then? I hadn’t thought to help. I was obsessed with profit, the club, and my own fucking pleasure. I didn’t see what was happening. I didn’t think anyone got hurt except the assholes I beat with my own fists to secure a future for everyone but the girl who deserved it the most.

Not this time.

It wouldn’t fucking happen again.

I hauled Martini up by the arm, and she came willingly. I shook her wrist to drop the rock in her hand. The phone tucked into her pocket.

She called someone.

Mistake.

“Who were you talking to?” I didn’t soften my voice. It was time she understood who I was and why it was a bad fucking idea to run from me. “
Martini
!”

“My cousin. Red.”

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“Red was going to help,” she said. “I had to make sure he wasn’t in that...pile.”

Her words faded into a rasped whisper. She had two options. Panic and get slapped out of her hysteria, or focus on me and keep her head on her shoulders.

Her color returned. She swallowed and faced me with the flash of forged steel in her eyes.

Good girl.

“Red is my family and my oldest friend. I told him what we found.”

We were as screwed now as we were without him hearing about the massacre. “And?”

“He had no idea this happened.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

I didn’t let go of her wrist. Martini stumbled as I pulled her toward the cottage.

“What do we do?”

She tried to steady her voice. She hid a whimper, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. I admired her for trying. Some women might have just broken down.

Rose would have broken down, but that was my fault. I never taught her how to be brave.

“You’re going to wait by the bike this time.” The old me might have accompanied the order with a slap across her ass to reinforce the message. The man I had become sickened at the thought. “I’m gonna take another look. See if I can’t figure out who did this.”

“I’m not staying out here alone.”

I tugged her through the woods and considered leaving her hidden in the trees and brush. But cowering in soggy, dying leaves and thick mud wouldn’t make her feel any safer. I pulled the bowie knife from my boot and pushed it at her.

“Can you use one of these?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but the guy who chopped up all those men is more proficient than me.”

“I don’t want you seeing what’s inside the house.”

She shook her head. I didn’t free her hand from my grasp, and she tugged me forward. Dedicated. Resolved. Absolutely terrified, but she thought she’d hide it with an attitude and a sway of her hips.

Whatever. As long as she wasn’t screaming.

As long as she would stay near me.

As long as she was safe.

The cottage didn’t look as quaint now. Peeling paint and a rotten porch framed the discolored windows and hid the brutality inside. It was still a better resting place for the murdered men. Most of us figured we’d bleed out on a patch of road with a mouthful of dirt and the dignity of our cuts as funeral shrouds. Ruffled curtains, cherry furniture, and little doilies under brass lamps were beyond our class, especially since the room hadn’t been smashed to hell in a brawl before the end came.