Authors: Lana Grayson
“
Lyn
!”
The smooth baritone yelled for me. I recognized the voice. It didn’t make me any less pissed off. I aimed my kick to cripple him. At least his ride home would be a total bitch.
Luke dodged, wrapping his arms across my midsection. The bat dropped.
Christ, he was strong.
“Lyn, it’s me!”
Precisely why I fought. I landed a solid kick to his ankle. He released me but knocked the bat away before I felt particularly insulted.
My hair dripped with water, my robe opened wide enough to earn me a couple hundred in tips, and Luke held his arms out like he meant to reassure me that it was completely logical he’d invade my
home
.
“What the hell are you doing in here!” I rewrapped my robe, but nothing I shouted in the pink fuzz was intimidating. Still, he was lucky I went for a bat instead of a knife or he’d be castrated. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Calm down.”
Hell no. I was half-naked, dripping wet, and suffering heart palpitations that’d make a junkie panic. I gritted my teeth.
“Get out.”
“Lyn, I had to talk to you.”
“Get. Out.”
“I have three of my men patrolling this road. They scouted a truck parked across the street. Tinted windows. It hasn’t moved for twenty-four hours.”
I did a lot of business naked, but I rarely argued without wearing panties. A woman could charm the last dollar out of a man with her tits, but earning their respect took a set of balls. I bound the robe tighter and stalked to the window.
My view faced downtown Cherrywood Valley—or whatever existed amid the tiny renovated district. My home had a decent view of the opera house, the nicer restaurants, and an exclusive nightclub called Duchess. Still, the Valley was hardly a cultural hub. It supported a rough industry and rougher men.
He was right. The truck parked on the corner, directly in front of my penthouse.
Luke hovered behind me. He dropped his jacket over the couch like I’d invited him inside. He wore only a cut and pristine white t-shirt underneath. The material strained over his broad chest and shoulders, and the ink staining his arms darkened against the cotton. Most of his idiot crew decorated themselves with the usual tribal bands. Luke had those too—over his chest. I remembered that. But on his arms, he needed only one design—a weapon most members of the MC mistook as a spear.
It wasn’t something so simple. Luke inked a
lance
onto his arm—the proper weapon for a man who thought of the world in medieval terms. Good and evil, tyranny and oppression.
Knight
even believed in chivalry—always tipped my girls when his men forgot to show their appreciation for a lap dance.
He also searched for any damsels who needed to be rescued.
That included me.
Too bad he didn’t find himself a princess. He broke inside the dragon’s lair.
“You should stay at Pixie tonight.” Luke drew the curtains. “Somewhere safer.”
“Why?”
His weren’t baby-blues—nothing young existed in those eyes. They shone sharp, vibrant, and utterly charming. He was the only man besides Thorne who ever held my gaze, but he was the only one I wished wouldn’t.
“If Temple MC decides to crash your apartment, it’ll be too easy for them to pass the sleeping security guard and pick your damn lock.”
“That’s not Temple MC in the van.”
Luke frowned. He lost the dimples, but he gained the little crease in his chin. “How do you know?”
“Because Temple MC would have killed me instead of conducting surveillance.”
It sickened me how easily I talked about such things, especially without a drink in my hand. I remedied that with a shot of whiskey from a dusty bottle in the corner. I preferred tea once I settled at home, but tonight we brewed trouble instead of Earl Grey.
Luke might have wanted a drink. I wished I had offered him salt water. He said nothing and wove a hand through golden hair that had no business falling in such perfect waves against his collar.
“So who’s in the truck?” he asked.
“Probably ATF.”
Luke moved faster with the threat of the Feds than Temple. He ducked from the window and claimed a chair, despite
not
having an invitation to join me at the kitchen island.
“What the fuck is
ATF
doing outside your apartment?”
It was a penthouse, but I’d be lucky if the MCs could tell the difference between crown molding and Crown Royal.
“I prefer them here rather than at Sorceress.”
“Son of a bitch.” Luke strafed the island, stretching his arms against the granite. He flexed. “They harassing you?”
“No more than you are.”
“Answer the question.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Lyn, for Christ’s sake. What the hell is ATF doing at Sorceress?”
“Take a guess.”
I pushed him away before he sat down. His ass belonged on bar stools, not in a breakfast nook.
Not in my home.
Not so close to me.
He let me edge him out of the kitchen, but his boots dug in before I could push him out of the penthouse.
“Use your head, Luke,” I said. “World War Three is on the verge of starting in my club. I’ve got two different MCs trying to kill each other in my parking lots.
You
just got
me
kidnapped by a fucking cartel, and ATF is twirling around on my poles.”
His voice deepened. I used to love that sound, loved the twist in my tummy and panties. Now it just made me weak to him and for him and because of him. I refused to let it affect me. Or, at least, I tried.
I had to try.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“I have it under control.”
“I want to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Damn it, Lyn. I’m just trying to protect you!”
“Oh, screw you,
Knight
.”
He held his arms out as I crossed beyond him. I meant to retie my robe, but it was a good enough reason to avoid his scent—that mix of leather and cedar that still dizzied my thoughts.
I handled profanity and violence, men getting too handsy and the occasional drunk lurking by my car at night. But the one thing I couldn’t trust was exactly what Luke offered.
Fucking honesty.
I counted on my fingers. “First you get me kidnapped, then you nearly get me killed,
now
you’re breaking into my damn house?”
“I told you I had no idea why Temple grabbed you. I
still
don’t know why they pinned Blade’s death on me.” Luke dropped the edge in his voice. “You wouldn’t take my calls at Sorceress—”
“—So that gives you the right to break into my
home
?”
“No, that gives me reason to make sure Temple MC hasn’t slit your throat or sold your pussy to some lowball bidder. Don’t pull that goddamned attitude with me. I’m trying to save your pretty little ass.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He pointed to the window. “And ATF outside? You’re under surveillance.”
“Better me than Anathema. At least I keep my business clean.”
Luke’s mouth set in a hard line. “They’re after Anathema?”
“Probably.”
“They mention The Coup?”
“You know…” I poured another shot. “We didn’t really discuss specifics. She was too busy threatening Sorceress and laying out a case in which I’m an accessory to half a dozen different crimes.”
“Lyn—”
I silenced him, taking Agent Greene’s card from my purse. I tossed it to him. “I can always call and see if she wants me to rat on The Coup too.”
“Jesus fuck, Lyn. Does Thorne know?”
“It’s none of Thorne’s business.”
“They’re threatening you and Anathema.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of this myself.”
“Can you?”
Sure, if I could manage to stay alive until I thought of the appropriate way to tell ATF to fuck off without getting arrested.
“Believe it or not, I don’t need rescuing.” I pointed to the door. “And I’m sending you the bill if you broke my lock.”
“Be glad it’s not your legs.”
“You gonna do it yourself?”
“I won’t have time. Temple will do it for me.”
He didn’t threaten well, but he never had a reason for it. The Coup existed alongside Anathema even after their usurper president was killed—and it was Luke’s name and reputation that prevented total anarchy. Not many people were foolish enough to challenge him.
“I came to apologize.” Luke’s eyes drifted down, clearly amused by my plush, pink terrycloth robe. I doubted he was sorry for catching me in the shower. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I’ve spent all last night and today trying to reach you, and I panicked. I thought something happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“And the shit that went down with Temple—”
“Was your fault.” I arched an eyebrow. “But I don’t accept apologies. I deal in favors. So far you owe me two.” I offered him the same amusing glance he gave my robe. “Not the position you want to be in with me.”
“I can think of a better one.”
“Only if I owed
you
the favor.” If only. “And I don’t make a habit of being indebted to others.”
“Make a habit of suffering for them?”
“Even less likely. You don’t want to know which end of the flogger I’m holding.”
“I know damn well,” he said. “And I know the damage you can do.”
“Yet here you are.”
Luke exhaled. “I need some help.”
“And there it is.” I needed a stronger drink. “Either I’m just some ten dollar stripper who needs to mind her own business or I’m a goddamned muse to your MC. Somehow I doubt you’re looking for a show tonight.”
“You know what I want.”
Yeah, I did. Because I wanted him too. I had known for years what he was after. He got it too—closer than anyone else ever did.
But that was over. Nothing about our history afforded his cock or his grand plans any consideration beyond how much it would cost me.
“You have a lot of nerve asking me for help,” I said.
“Temple grabbed you for a reason. They thought you knew something about Blade Darnell.”
I poured another drink. I already buzzed from the shower, fatigue, and his scent. Last thing I needed was the alcohol and stress leading to any spilled secrets.
“And?” I asked.
“Do you know something?”
I gripped the shot glass. “Yeah. Blade Darnell was an asshole. A sexual deviant who didn’t deserve to live after hurting his daughter the way he did. I don’t know what happened to him, and I don’t care. He’s in hell where he belongs, and he won’t hurt Rose again.”
Luke tensed, that streak of righteousness stiffening his spine. “You think I liked working with Temple to get that pervert out of jail?”
“You knew what he did.”
“Yeah. I saw the pictures of Rose as a kid. I knew how fucked up he was.” He exhaled. “But he was
necessary
to Anathema and The Coup. He was the only goddamned reason Temple hadn’t tried to roll over the Valley. We needed him to negotiate and make good with them, and now he’s dead.”
I didn’t react. Luke held my gaze, fierce and raging and entirely too familiar.
“They’re blaming me, Lyn. You gotta know something.”
“Why would I know anything?”
“Because you know everything in this damn town with these fucking clubs. Your girls don’t talk with a mouthful of cock, but the men they’re sucking off sure do.”
I frowned. “You keep insinuating my girls are whores, and you won’t get any help from me.”
“I’ll take whatever help you can give me. I’ll owe you more favors. As many as you want.”
It wouldn’t be help. It’d be suicide. I knew everything—where and why and how Blade died, but a girl wouldn’t survive on favors alone.
If revealed, Blade’s death would tear Anathema apart, especially if they realized Brew was still alive and soaked his palms in his daddy’s blood. Avenging Rose for her childhood abuse might have ended one tragedy, but revenge caused more problems.
In this case, more bloodshed.
“You didn’t kill Blade,” I said.
“Well, that’s a goddamned relief.”
“And I know if you stay in this city, you’re going to die.”
“That so?”
I wasn’t in the mood for games. I shivered, still wet and soapy from the shower. “Temple’s not going to fuck with me, especially if they’re as observant as you and find ATF trailing me from work to home.”
Luke swore, quietly. Neither MC had room for gentlemen, but Luke chose to be reserved if only to stay in my good graces.
However slim they were.
“But
you
don’t have any protection,” I said. “You need to get the hell out of the Valley before Temple decides to avenge Blade.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“And they won’t catch me.”
I spoke to a dead man. “You can’t deal with this on your own. We probably killed three of their men when we escaped. If Temple isn’t looking for you yet, it’s only because they’re waiting for the mother chapter to ride down.”
“We have bigger problems than Temple.”
“Don’t we always?” Sarcasm felt better when I traded barbs with Thorne. Luke was too serious, too goddamned valiant to accept the end when it blasted a bullet in his head. “Luke, don’t be a hero. Just
leave
before something bad happens.”
“And the instant I leave the Valley, Priest and half of The Coup rise up and make a new war with Anathema. Who the hell knows how many people would die. Good people. Innocent people.” He called my name when I looked away. “Priest won’t care if he mows down half of your dancers to kill one of Anathema’s men. He sure as hell won’t take careful aim if Rose is with Thorne.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Never did when Luke was right.
“I’m the only one keeping The Coup together,” he said. “If I leave, there will be another war, and I’m not going to be responsible for that blood. Not again.”
Not when he was the cause of so much of it before.
Not when he hadn’t earned forgiveness for the lives he wasted and the blood he spilled and how goddamned stupid it was tearing the club apart in the first place.
“And if Temple kills you, The Coup loses control anyway.” I crossed my arms, but the robe billowed around me, losing most of my motion in the fluffy, ridiculous cotton-candy puff.