Warlord (Anathema Book 1) (24 page)

The music
muffled. The club twisted away. The danger evaporated. My every thought, the
only pulsing desire in my body, ached for more of his kiss, another brush of
his lips, and the lash of his tongue.

He kissed me to
protect me from my brothers. To help blend me in with the rest of the bare
flesh in the club. But his strained breath, the clutching of his hands, the
claiming of my desire was all for him.

And I would have
given it to him.

Thorne’s grip
tightened. The shot fired into the couch and exploded into charred stuffing
before I realized someone aimed for us. Thorne dove, tossing me to the ground. My
battered head smacked the hardwood, but his muscular body protected me,
shielding me from the frenzy of bullets blitzing through the club.

He meant to push
me through the floor. The air squeezed from my lungs, but we were safe. I
twisted to hide from the crackling gunfire. Keep and Brew dropped to the ground,
shouting over the firefight. Keep pulled his gun. Brew narrowed his eyes.

“Rose?” His
shock raged into horror as he glanced over my body. “
What the fu
—”

Gold returned
shots, and Scotch overturned his table. The dancers screamed and sought cover. My
brothers aimed their weapons.

A gun cocked
over our heads. Thorne stilled as the barrel of the nine millimeter bumped his
temple. Exorcist grinned down at us, his greasy smile slick with lust as he
studied my chest.

“Picked a pretty
dancer, Thorne.” Exorcist nudged the gun harder against his head. “Call off
your men and I won’t smear her brains on your cut.”

Thorne glanced
to his side. Gold, Scotch, and my brothers aimed their weapons at different
targets. Keep swore as he recognized me.

“Where the hell
are your clothes?” He yelled. His eyes snapped to Ex. “Fucking hell, let her go.
She hasn’t done a goddamned thing to you.”

Brew leapt over
Keep before he dove for Exorcist. His gun wove from Thorne to me.

“Rose, Rose, Rose.”
The barrel grazed my head. My cheek. My breast. Thorne growled. My brothers
raised their guns. “You
did
grow up, didn’t you?”

I wished he’d
just shoot me. His dead eyes studied Thorne.

“She’s a
troubled one, this girl. You’re in for a world of therapy and daddy issues if
you fuck her.”

“Just kill me.” Thorne
faced his death with a rage that would have frightened the reaper. “Let Rose
go, kill me, and take your stolen empire. God help you when the next
son-of-a-bitch with more balls than brains decides he wants to be president.”

“You take the
fun out of it.” Exorcist kicked my skirt up. “At least let’s have some
entertainment.”

Thorne moved
faster than a man of his size had any right to attack, but Ex was slower than a
man of his age should have been. He kicked out, connecting his foot against
Ex’s knee. Ex crumpled, and Thorne dove over him. His fist crunched Ex’s nose,
but the gun went off above Thorne’s shoulder. I screamed. Keep and Brew leapt
over me and dragged me away from the firefight.

A second shot
fired, but it wasn’t from Ex’s gun. Brew tucked me hard against his body and
shielded my chest with a protective arm. Keep covered us with two guns, each
poised and aimed in different directions.

“Everyone
fucking
stop.” Luke cocked his gun and pressed it against the base of Thorne’s skull. Thorne
swore, but his piece still aimed for the silver hair peeking from Ex’s collar. “No
one moves or I kill the president.”

“Better kill me
now.” Thorne spoke between gritted teeth. His nose bled, but he was fortunate
only his vest tore from where the bullet grazed his shoulder. “All this
excitement gives me a weak trigger finger.”

“Let Ex up,”
Luke said.

“Go to Hell.”

“The police are
on their way.” Luke looked over the room. “Scanner called it in. Thorne lets Ex
go, I let Thorne go, we don’t spend the night in jail sharing the fucking
soap.”

“Always were
afraid of prison.” Thorne snorted. “Knight in shining fucking armor. Too pretty
to serve time.”

“Get off of Ex.”

“Shoot me.”

The gun rammed
against his head. Thorne grimaced. Luke stared at me.

“Get him up, Rose.”

Brew tightened
his hold. I gripped his arm. Every second of Thorne’s pain burst though me,
mirrored in the tensing of his body, the grinding of his teeth, the frustration
of his near death and the vengeance so near his hand.

My voice trembled.
I feared more for the gun pointed at him than the ones aiming for me.

“Thorne, please,”
I whispered. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Yes, Thorne.” Exorcist
laughed, mimicking my trembling voice. “Daddy, Please.”

Thorne narrowed
his eyes. “You come near Rose again, and nothing will stop me from putting a
bullet in your brain.”

“I can’t stay
away from a sweet-ass like her.” Ex laughed, his potbelly rippling with each
fat chortle. “But I’ll let her go without sampling the goods. This time.”

Luke frowned,
but his scowl etched for Ex, not Thorne. “Get up.”

Thorne hesitated.
I counted the loaded guns in the room. One shot would end Exorcist, but
thirteen was an unlucky number for vengeance. The men stilled, and the pounding
beat of a Brittany Spears song was the last sample I wanted to hear before an
all-out war.

Thorne rose to
his feet, but didn’t turn to face Luke. The gun pulled back. Reluctant.

“We leave first.”
Luke called for his men, staring down Gold and Scotch. “Out. Now.”

Ex dusted off
his cut and winked at me. Brew’s grip squeezed the air from my lungs, but I
didn’t protest. Ex and Luke retreated from the club, guns still drawn, and
slammed the door behind them.

I didn’t care
about my nudity. I fought away from Brew, pushed past Keep, and flung myself
into Thorne’s arms. He wrapped me in a hug and curled a fist in my hair.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re riding
with me. I don’t give a fuck if it scares you or not.”

I shivered. I
couldn’t handle the bike. I couldn’t handle losing my life.

Losing my
brothers.

Losing him.

“When we get
back you are going to tell me what the hell just happened here.” His voice
hardened. “And I don’t care if it scares you either.”

My stomach
twitched. The dread curdled my stomach, and I slumped against him as Scotch offered
me his jacket.

It’d take about twenty
minutes to get to Pixie.

I had twenty
minutes to think of a convincing story that would cover me, save Thorne, and
protect Brew and Keep.

I hated to lie. Hated
to betray the man who risked his life for mine.

I doubted he’d
forgive my
favor
to Exorcist, but I didn’t need his kindness.

I just needed
him to stay alive.

The kid feared
my bike more than she feared me.

More than she
feared whatever the hell just happened between Anathema and The Coup.

I didn’t know
what fucked her up that bad.

The past week
pointed enough guns between her baby bunny eyes to kick off a gang war in the
middle of her forehead. She got kidnapped. Roughed up. Nearly set on fucking
fire. And instead of panicking because she showcased her perfect tits to a bar loaded
with meth-head bikers and psychopaths with hard-ons for blood, she shrunk
inside Scotch’s jacket and searched the parking lot for another ride home.

“Luke took his
bike.” I pushed my helmet at her. “Don’t even think about hotwiring Lyn’s car.”

Rose didn’t have
sleeves to hide her emotions. She zipped the borrowed jacket up to her neck and
tried to look tough without meeting my gaze.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t drop
you.”

She eased onto
my bike. “I said I’ll be fine.”

If she weren’t
half-naked and fighting with a scrap of plaid better suited for a napkin than
skirt, I would have taught the kitten a lesson about hissing.

Then again,
whatever happened the last time she shared a bike rattled her head to toe. She
squeezed in close to me and shuddered. Not in a good way. Not like how she
shivered against my lap in the club. Not like when she wiggled her little hips
until I didn’t care how many bullets loaded into my brain. The blood wasn’t
there anyway.

Rage and lust
combined into a deadly frustration. I had been one jerked trigger away from
ending the goddamned madness and seizing my vengeance against Exorcist. His
death was a bigger fantasy than what wetted inside Rose’s panties.

But he was gone.

And Rose
remained.

It shouldn’t
have pissed me off. And her safety shouldn’t have felt better than the gun
butting against Exorcist’s ugly head.

Fuck. I needed a
hot shower and twenty minutes to jerk myself back into this dimension. Instead,
she tucked up behind me and gripped my cut tight enough to press her entire
body against mine. I couldn’t feel her tightened nipples against my vest, but I
imagined how her legs spread around me. How the little white panties pressed
against my waist.

God damn, the
damage she’d do with those panties.

She danced on me.
Smiled. Sighed.

Grinded
those sweet
hips with a combination baby-girl innocence and goddess lust. She tempted the
devil, and I’d ruin her to discover if she had any other talents besides a
delicate voice, the predisposition for trouble, and back-talking the one man
who’d either deliver her to safety or fuck her into hell.

Except she
trembled behind me on the bike. She lowered her head onto my shoulder and
squeezed my chest.

She let Exorcist
get away.

I let Exorcist
get away.

I’d do anything
to keep him from hurting her.

“You remember
how to pack?” I grunted.

Brew and Keep
watched us. The flare of Keep’s engine scared the hell out of her, and she
scooted even closer to my body. Last thing I needed was her freaking out around
a bend. She’d kill us if Exorcist ambushed Anathema on the 9.

“Rose, trust
me.”

“I said
I’m
fine
.”

Brew rolled up beside
us. “You used to ride with Dad all the time.”

Her body
stiffened. My cut crushed inside her palms. Brew didn’t notice. I did, and I knew
better than to knock her away from the only thing steadying her.

“I didn’t like
it then either. Not like you cared.” Rose hid her face. “Thorne, I want to
leave.”

Brew frowned.
Keep shrugged. None of this passive-aggressive bullshit belonged in the fucking
club. She bitched at Brew for reasons that hadn’t cleared her own head, and
whatever temper tantrum she pitted against her brothers wasn’t getting me any
closer to the answers I needed.

Someone set me
up. Exorcist took a shot. Failed. But it wouldn’t be the last time he tried to
fill my teeth with lead. I needed to know who betrayed me. I needed to know why.
And most importantly, I needed to know when Ex would fucking try again.

I needed Rose. Sweet
and innocent and feeding me information my dick hadn’t given her an opportunity
to find yet. If I wanted to figure out how Keep was fucking over Anathema, punishing
my Sergeant At Arms and Secretary for beating the brat out of their little
sister wouldn’t make my search any easier.

Rose’s stress
fueled me with an adrenaline rush that fucked with my head. I needed to hit
something. Break some bones. Bloody a nose and squeeze a trigger under a chin. If
I wasn’t careful, I’d feed off her panic and aim for her brothers. While stomping
Keep’s junkie head against the sidewalk until he confessed would be my own
cloudless heaven, it wasn’t the right time.

I had to get
Rose to safety, away from the neon-pink glow of Sorceress’s parking lot. Ex wouldn’t
try to hit me again. Rose wasn’t that lucky.