Warlord (Anathema Book 1) (4 page)

And that’s how
we did it.

That’s how we
survived.

That’s how we
owned the fucking city.

We didn’t accept
men into Anathema. We wanted gods. Warriors on bikes who rode like the demons
they’d eventually face in Hell. The club was life, and riding the blood pouring
through our veins. Nothing nobler existed than spilling crimson for our
brothers.

The club tested
every man who joined Anathema. Judged their efficiency. Their speed. Their
bravery on the road and their skill on the bike. Our business didn’t welcome
pussies unless we meant to sell them for cash, and guns and drugs were in more
demand than worn-out women with fresher tits than breath.

I didn’t bother checking
my gauges. The dusty crust of the drought-cracked ground blurred into the haze
of dead-on-impact speed. Running out of town wasn’t an option, especially when
riding alone. More dangers existed outside the territory than one pissed-off
splinter club, and I wasn’t about to square off in another dispute when we
could only limp around our borders.

The bike wove
between cars and tricks, dipping low into a tight-ass bend as I squared myself for
the next exit. I ducked behind a creeping Honda and swore as the jackass on his
cellphone nearly ran the cage off the road. The rumble strip kicked up a chunk
of rock that grazed my cheek.

It was bad luck
to end a fight without bleeding. The cut under my eye would serve as sufficient
sacrifice to whatever fucked-up god demanded the tribute. Better a gash on my
cheek than a bullet in my head.

I eased off the
exit and made a right, skirting the airport lanes and heading into town. Priest
and his prospect didn’t follow...or couldn’t follow with two police cruisers dipping
their donuts in the bikes’ exhaust. Didn’t envy them. The good ol’ boy
Cherrywood Valley police chief had a hard-on for me anyway. A reckless driving charge
would blow his load quicker than head from his teeny-bopper mistress dorming at
the community college.

I kept to the
back roads and texted my crew at a red light to warn them against riding single
tonight. Exorcist wasn’t stupid enough to fail twice, but vengeance poisoned
all rationality. I rode through the shadows of our uncontested territory, but the
twisting unease never left. Not anymore.

Constantly
looking over my shoulder did worse than hurting my neck. It exhausted me.

We’d either lose
our edge or our necks would snap. Neither option was appealing.

Keep’s bar and
Brew’s warehouse composed half a block of Anathema safe-houses. Their old man
had enough common sense to set his boys up with some real estate, though the
crazy bastard didn’t hide his bloody handprint as well as his financial assets.
The bikes stayed in back, away from any wayward civilian dumb enough to wander
inside the bar. Keep reserved the rear entrance for the MC, and I shut and
locked the door before my fingers stopped itching for my gun.

“Hey.” Keep
sprawled on a wooden bench. He ignored his cigarette in the ashtray and the
laptop copying trucking schedules into Excel. He rubbed his bare head. “Lyn’s
here. She wants you.”

“Fuck me.”

Keep smirked. “She’s
too pissed for that. Been there, got slapped, my friend.”

“What’s she
want?”

“Wouldn’t say. She
looks ready to torch the place.”

“Great. Where is
she?”

“Where do you
think?”

Displaced from
his own damn office. Just like Lyn. Good thing Keep didn’t have his old man’s
temper. Or his older brother’s wrath.

Fortunately for
the MC, Keep did have a natural aptitude for business. The bar stayed clean,
financially and literally. Every bill, every receipt, every W-fucking-4 for the
last decade filed away in his office. He kept the bar stocked, the tables clear,
and every indigo pulsing light-blub humming with pure, unsullied profit.

Unfortunately,
that meant the bar was the only place Jocelyn “Lyn” Hart would grace her sweet
ass when she traded favors. She might have started out dancing on one of the
pool tables, but Lyn’s principles prevented her from entering the chapel locked
inside the warehouse. Claimed she could stay out of prison and enjoy a shot on
the house that way.

She was probably
right.

And a hell of a
lot smarter than me.

“You look like shit.”
Lyn greeted me with an insult as soon as I shut the door. “Do I want to ask why
you’re bleeding?”

“Take a guess.”

Lyn tilted
Keep’s executive chair back, settling within the thick leather like a court
concubine inheriting her rightful place as queen. The blonde ruled with a bump
of her hips or a strike of her fangs, and each carried enough poison to cripple
a man if he wasn’t careful. Lyn thrived best when underestimated. Learned that
lesson a long time ago.

“Not a lover’s
scratch,” Lyn winked.

“I prefer a
tender touch.”

She crossed her
legs over the desk. The black leather pants might have seemed like an
invitation to less informed men. Jocelyn displayed the goods—might have let the
corset dip low to expose the swell of her tits—but looking was free. Besides, she
didn’t deal in money. Lyn came at a far more expensive price. Also learned that
lesson long ago.

“Sit,” she said.
“You’re a hard man to pin down, Thorne.”

“Maybe I have the
common sense to avoid you.”

“Avoiding me
isn’t fun.” She stretched her arms over her head. Her chest arched up. “You
haven’t been to the club in a while.”

Flirting was
free. I took a seat across from her. “You miss me?”

“Parts of you.”

“Which part?”

She didn’t break
my gaze. “The muscle.”

“So this isn’t a
friendly visit.”

“All my visits
are friendly.” Lyn frowned, though even a scowl looked good on her lips. “You’re
about the one friend I still trust.”

The club joked
Lyn’s eyes got greener the more cash she made. Wrong. They brightened when she
needed something. When she knew something.

“Likewise.”

“You’re still
bleeding.”

Lyn stood,
snapping the chair upright. She rooted through a drawer until she found a
first-aid kit.

I touched the
cut on my cheek. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah. I
remember. But something tells me you aren’t keeping out of trouble.”

I clenched my
jaw as she came at me with a cotton ball dipped in alcohol. She scoured my face
like she meant to clean the scratch with steel wool. I knocked her hand away.

“Christ, Lyn. I
didn’t get shot. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Yet. You didn’t
get shot
yet
.”

“Your optimism
is appreciated.”

“The girls at
the club have an over/under on you. Odds are three to one you’ll get a bullet
in the head within a month.”

“Great.”

“I gave you six
months.” She slapped a piece of gauze over my cheek. “How’s that for optimism?”

“We better be
getting part of that Vig.”

“What happened?”

“Found out what
our buddy Priest has been up to since shacking up with Exorcist.”

Lyn raised her
eyebrow, as much a threat as cocking a gun. “You mean he does something besides
molest my dancers?”

“Well, he was up
my ass today. Maybe he’s not into your girls anymore.”

“I’m not that
lucky.” She crossed her arms. “Was he making a move?”

“Gotta talk to
my guys about it. He won’t shed any tears if I dump my bike on the 9.”

“This can’t keep
happening. More people are going to get killed.”

“Oh, a stripper
and a prophet now?”

Lyn hopped onto
the desk. She crossed her legs and nearly took out my chin with a high heel. Probably
her intent. At least it’d be a good view before I got knocked unconscious.

“Fine. I’ll take
my five grand and find someone else to stick their elderly, decrepit brothers
at our door.” Lyn snorted. “The last bouncer couldn’t even get it up with a
girl straddling his face. Did nothing for her self-esteem.”

“What’s your
point?”

“I want my money
back if you won’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“You wanted a
presence there. I gave you a presence.”

“Viper?  He’s
one chili dog from a quadruple bypass. I need someone else.”

I held my arms
out. “Who?  I’m stretched fucking thin as it is.”

“Find someone.”

“There is no one
else, and you don’t need another guard. No one will cause any trouble with your
girls. They know you’re in my territory.”

“Am I?”

“Are you what?”

“In
your
territory?”

I exhaled. “Your
mouth is more useful when it isn’t being smart.”

“And if you ever
want to put it to use again, you’ll listen.”

Lyn tapped her
nails on the desk. The rat-a-tat-tat drumming wasn’t a stall. She tensed. Nervous.
Ready to snap. I didn’t need her wrath going nuclear in my MC. She was hard
enough to keep alive as it was. Lyn had a tendency to forget she only had a
dick when she jerked someone off. I didn’t need her pissing off the wrong guys.
Again.

“What the hell
is going on?” I said. “No bullshit.”

“What’s going
on?  Exorcist. The Coup. Anathema. Everything is going on.”

“Think I don’t
know that?”

“No. But I don’t
think you realize where the battle lines will be drawn. The Coup won’t hunker
down for long.”

No shit. I
didn’t need a high speed chase through a goddamned farmer’s market to figure
that out. I shrugged.

“My club is the
center of the territory,” Lyn said. “Dead-fucking-center. And when this war
breaks open, someone there will get hurt.”

“Your club is
neutral ground.”

“For how much
longer? Exorcist came by two days ago. Wanted to talk to me.” Lyn’s smile bared
her teeth. “Wanted more than that actually. I told him it wasn’t going to
happen.”

I leaned forward.
“What’d he say?”

“He said the
lines changed.
He
wants five grand a month too. Same as you.”

“For what?”

“Fire
insurance.”

“Christ.”

“He wants a
partnership. Part of my profits or part of me. And you know the only thing
tighter than my pussy is my wallet. That prick isn’t getting anything.”

“Exorcist has no
claim over your club. Even when he was part of the MC, Sorceress was my deal.”

“What do you
want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I’ll take care
of Exorcist.”

Lyn sighed. “Pull
your guys out. Just for now. Let me get my own security.”

“Absolutely
not.”

“I need to
protect my girls.”

“Did I say we
wouldn’t protect them?”

“I don’t know
what the fuck you’re doing!” Lyn shrugged. “Or what you will do. Or what
Exorcist wants to do. But I have women at that club, and, more often than not,
I have their kids too. I can’t risk something happening, and Exorcist is going
to make something happen. Nothing would piss you off more. He knows that. You
know that.” She paused. “I’m asking as a friend, Thorne.”

I didn’t answer.
Lyn swore. She reached into her corset and pulled out a small baggie, twisted
tight against the reddish crystals tucked in the center. The drugs slapped
against the desk.

“Pulled that
from one of my girls,” Lyn said. “Tracie.”

I didn’t need to
touch it to see. “Meth.”

“Not just any
meth.”

“Temple’s meth.”
I gritted my teeth. “Where’d she get it?”

“Your turn to
guess.”

“They’re selling
in the city?”

Lyn laughed. I
didn’t share her sense of humor.

“Of course not. Temple’s
dealers don’t get close to the limits.” She leaned onto her elbows. Suggestive.
A copperhead waiting to strike. “But Tracie is Bounty’s girl. And Bounty and
Exorcist always wanted to expand.”

“You think
Exorcist made a deal with Temple MC?”

Lyn pushed the
baggie toward me. “Looks like it. Or they’re closer to a deal than we thought.”

“Fuck.”

“Not yet. But
you better start lubing up.”

I rubbed my
face, grunting over the sting from the wound. “What do you want for the info?”

“Another guard
at my door.”

“Done.”

“What do you
want for the trouble?” She asked.

I glanced down.
Lyn rolled her eyes.

“You keep calling
in favors for your cock, and you’ll never get anywhere.”

“What would I do
with favors if I only have a month to live?”