Warlord (Anathema Book 1) (22 page)

We laid skin-to-skin
in bed last night. While my fractured mind needed nothing more than his
comfort, my forsaken body needed something different. Thorne over me. Pressed
against me.

Inside of me.

I wished I
understood why.

And I wished it
had happened.

We burst into
the office as my cheeks betrayed my every desire. Lyn tucked behind her desk
like a queen, but she leaned away from her computer with a serpent’s smile. Her
green eyes shifted from me to Thorne. I braced for a strike that didn’t come
and an observation I wasn’t ready to admit. Lyn, mercifully, chose not to speak.
I wondered what I’d have to do to repay the favor.

“Watch her,” Thorne
said.

Lyn laughed. “Excuse
me?  I hire a nanny to watch my employee’s kids. I don’t keep the crayons in my
office.”

Apparently Lyn’s
kindness ended when the wounds were patched. I flushed.

“Why did you
bring her?  Ex and his men will be crawling over this place.” The flash of her
eyes might have humbled lesser men. Thorne endured it with more patience than I
expected and more restraint than she deserved. “You’re playing superhero,
aren’t you?”

“Keep her here,
I’ll take care of Ex.”

I sighed. “I can
handle myself.”

They both ignored
me. Lyn waved a hand toward the leather chair opposite the desk. Thorne pushed
me into the seat.

“You leave this
office, you better be wearing a thong.” Thorne’s stare melted me. “You get me?”

“Don’t get the
rest of the MC killed, Thorne.” Lyn released a thick wave of blonde hair from
the bun pinned behind her head. “They’re my best customers.”

“Always trying
to make a buck.”

She snorted. “Always
trying to pick a fight.”

Thorne snorted. I
bit my lip.

“Be—” I flinched
as the door slammed behind him. “Careful.”

Like he needed
my encouragement. Unless my advice loaded into a shotgun, the warning was as useful
as an empty clip.

Lyn perked a
perfectly accusatory eyebrow. “I don’t know what’s more idiotic. Thorne
actually indulging Exorcist or you sleeping with him.”

I stiffened. Talking
about sex in a strip club made sense. Talking about sex in an office with more
payroll reports than g-strings was almost as awkward as broaching the subject
with a complete stranger. One who, undoubtedly, spent more than her fair share
of nights with Thorne.

And my brothers.

I shifted. Knowing
Anathema, she probably partied with all of them at the same time.

Ew.

“I’m not
sleeping with him,” I said.

“Yet.”

“What’s your
point?”

Lyn smiled. It
did nothing to soften the same street-hardened, violent, exhaustion she shared
with every other member of the MC.

“You want out?  Cozying
up to Thorne isn’t the way.”

“In case you
haven’t noticed, I’m out of options. I don’t think there is a way out anymore.”

“There’s always a
way. You just need to dig it yourself.”

Easier said than
done. “You don’t understand. Right now, Anathema is my best chance at staying
alive. I need them.”

Lyn snorted. “But
Anathema doesn’t need you. They might not want you to get hurt, but you are
nothing more than the pesky little sister or the quick score. They might throw
a property patch on you. They might give you sanctuary in Pixie’s fortress of
justified paranoia. But then what?  You’ll be trapped inside Anathema forever.”

“You think I
don’t know that?” Disbelief muddled my voice. “I grew up in the MC. I saw what
it did to my mother. My uncle died before I was born in a gang-war. My mother
OD’d. My father is in prison, and my brothers will take after one or both of my
parents.”

“So what about
you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to
play guitar?  Go to college?”

I wished the
word didn’t instantly decay into fantasy in my mouth. “Yes.”

“Then you have a
choice to make, sweet-pea.”

“That choice
won’t mean anything if I’m killed before I enroll into Normal Life 101.” I
looked away. “Besides. I need money.”

“Work here.”

I flushed. “I am
not
a stripper.”

Lyn tightened
her jaw. “Drop that holier-than-thou attitude before I smack it out of you. I
didn’t mean dancing. I meant as a musician. We have a live music night.”

“You want me to
play?”

“Or bar-tend.”

“Really?”

“You make more
if you do it topless.”

“I can’t do
that.”

Lyn smirked. “Virgin?”

“Why does that
matter?”

“You’re a virgin.”
Her smile faded, and she looked me over. “Oh. Were you molested?”

My insides
instantly curdled. I pushed away from her desk. “
What
?”

“Happens more
than you might think. I have a club filled with more daddy issues, broken
pasts, and heartache than you can imagine. Maybe.”

“I’m not—”

“It’ll eat you alive
if you don’t deal with it,” she said.

“I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Thorne isn’t
going to be the one to support you. He has two modes:  Fucking and Fighting. One
day, you’ll need more than that, so you better sort your shit out before it happens.”

I swallowed. “You
don’t know anything about me.”

“I know your
brothers need you.”

I wondered if
she’d eventually just smack me. Five pristinely manicured nails across the face
would make more sense than her whiplash of invasive questions.

“What do my
brothers have to do with any of this?” I asked.

Lyn shrugged. “It’s
a dangerous world. But your brothers are still your brothers.”

I didn’t like
her tone. “Who else would they be?”

“Let’s hope we
never find out.”

I never had
stage-fright before, but I imagined what it felt like. Being trapped on stage. Alone.
Watching over a crowd of judgmental and hostile strangers who knew something I
didn’t. Maybe my pitch was off. My guitar strummed out of tune. The microphones
set too soft or my songs screeched horrible and unappealing.

Lyn met my gaze
with a sympathy absent from Anathema. Her pity stung worse than any injury
Exorcist inflicted on my body.

“You’re no
stranger to heartbreak,” Lyn said. “If I were you, I’d be doing everything I
could to avoid more of it.”

We both flinched
at the knock on the door. I tensed as she removed a gun and rested it on her
knees, hidden under the table. She ordered me still and answered the knock.

The door swung
open. The brunette dancer pouted and slipped inside. Lyn sighed. My pulse raged
against my bruised ribs.

“Shannon.” Lyn
gestured to me. “Rose.”

The brunette rocked
the stripes of lingerie barely concealing her curves, but she didn’t try to
hide the few injuries marring her otherwise perfect skin. I recognized the
bruises. A belt. The marks lashed over her thighs, tucking under the lacey
panties covering her backside. She didn’t seem to care. Her hand absently
tangled in the collar around her neck. Lyn frowned.

“If my customers
wanted to see broken women, they’d go home and smack their wives around.” Lyn scolded
her, but the chastisement felt half-hearted. As if it weren’t her first warning.
“You’re better than this, Shannon. What the hell did Tex do to you?”

“Nothing I
didn’t like.”

Her bruising
rivaled mine, but I certainly didn’t like what Ex or his crew did.

“What’s he have
you doing now?” Lyn frowned.

“Nothing I
didn’t agree to do.” Shannon matched her cool tone. She handed me an envelope. “They
said you’d know what this means.”

I didn’t take
the paper. Lyn’s eyes darkened.

“Who is
they
?”
I asked.

Lyn answered for
Shannon. Hatred soured her voice. “The Coup. Shannon’s...owner is one of
Priest’s crew.”

“Sorry.” Shannon
shrugged. I didn’t believe her. “I’m guessing it isn’t good news.”

She forced the paper
into my hand and demanded her paycheck before she sashayed from the room. Lyn
stared at my trembling hands as the envelope fell away.

“Rose, what the
hell is going on?” Lyn asked.

23 and 3
^rd

Theater off of
Washington Street

Thursday, 11 AM

The prez will be
handled tonight

I crumbled the paper.
The blood iced in my body and pooled at my feet. I almost wish I crumpled with
it.

“Rose, talk to
me!” Lyn ripped the note from my fingers. “Who the fuck wrote this?  What does
it mean?”

My voice
weakened.

I was too late
to do anything.

“Ex is going to
kill Thorne.”

Lyn’s stare
might have set the note on fire. “What the fuck do you know?  What happened
when they grabbed you?”

“If you want to
stay alive, don’t ask me that.”

“Does Thorne—”

“And if you want
everyone else to stay alive, forget you read this.” I ripped the paper from her
hands. “Please.”

Lyn swallowed. She
flipped on a secondary monitor on her desk. Security footage from the club
blinked. She enlarged the image of the parking lot and the four bikers poised
outside.

“The Coup is
here,” she said.

“Call Thorne. He
thinks we’re just giving Luke his bike back.”

“So does Luke.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Luke
arranged this meeting.”

Great. “Then
Luke lied.”

Lyn’s eyes
flashed lethal, and I braced for the strike of a pissed off rattlesnake. “Knight
would never lie to me.”

“
How do you
know
?”

“You have your
secrets.” Lyn glanced to the paper. “I have mine. If I call Thorne and tell him
what’s happening, they’ll kill Luke.”

“But...”

“Let’s just say
I don’t want the liability on Sorceress.”

I knew better
than to ask any more. “Then I have to go warn him.”

“You walk out
there, that note in your hand, and run over to Thorne, Ex will shoot you on
sight.”

“Then you do
it.”

“They’d kill me
too, for their own reasons.”

“I am not going
to let him walk into a trap.”

Lyn’s frown
tempered into a quiet smirk. “Well, he did say not to leave unless you were in
a thong.” She checked her watch and dialed out on the club line. “Shannon,
you’re not leaving. Grab Josie and Angel. You three go entertain the guys from the
Coup. Tell them it’s on the house while I get the VIP room set up for the
meeting. Tell Marie to distract Anathema.”

Lyn slammed the
phone on the cradle and grabbed my hand. She led me from the room but didn’t
head back to the club. We hid in a dressing room backstage. The door locked.

Like I needed
any more trouble.

“Strip,” Lyn
said. “You go warn Thorne.”

“
Strip
?”

“You have a
better idea?  The lights are dim, my other girls will be dancing, and...” She
grabbed a brush and yanked the scrunchie from my hair. My curls tumbled down,
and she pulled most of the dark mass over my face. “Trust me, they’re not
looking at your pretty eyes. Take off your clothes.”

Like it was that
easy to do.

She ripped
through a closet full of costumes. I flushed as I twisted the shirt over my
neck and fumbled over the button on my jeans. Lyn glanced up as I stood, goose
bumped, in my white bra, panties, and socks.