by Penny Dee
I swung around at the voice. Chance Calley sat on a couch in the corner of the room, strumming a guitar. Seeing him brought a sudden rush of tears to my eyes.
“Chance!”
He stood up and pulled me into a big hug. I held on tight. Suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions of the day, and because seeing him again after all these years was so nice.
Letting him go, I couldn’t help but smile. I’d always adored Chance. Growing up I always figured he was going to be a rock star because he was permanently attached to his guitar. In high school he could have any girl he wanted. Good looking. Charismatic. A talented guitarist. He’d surprised the hell out of everyone when he’d signed up for the Navy soon after graduation.
“I’m as good as I’m going to be, I guess,” I replied. We sat down. “How are you?”
The years had done little to lessen his good looks, but he looked hardened—a little frayed around the edges. I knew being a Navy SEAL meant he was tough and fearless. But I didn’t really know what it involved. Only that he saw a fair bit of action overseas.
He held up a glass of liquor from the table beside him. “Ask me after a few more of these.” He tried to smile but his attempt was weak.
Across the room, Chastity Calley sat with her mom and Grandma Sybil. At nineteen, she was a wild beauty. Lashings of raven black hair fell around a porcelain white face that was pale in its beauty, and tumbled over her shoulders to her slender waist. Her large eyes, the same resplendent bright blue of her brothers and mother, were almond shaped and fringed with long, dark lashes. At the funeral, she’d sobbed into Caleb’s shoulder. Isaac had been more like a brother than her cousin.
I turned back to Chance. “Did you make it to the funeral?”
I didn’t see him at the church or the cemetery. But if he’d arrived late I could’ve missed him.
“Everyone was leaving when I arrived. I took four different flights to get here and not one of them left on time. I missed the service, but I got to say my goodbyes. I hung back with Caleb and Bull. Paid my respects.” He took a mouthful of his drink, which smelled like whiskey. “I saw Cade ride off. Have you heard from him?”
I shook my head. “He needs time.”
“Yeah, he does. He’s not like you and me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a trauma doctor now, right?” When I nodded, he put his guitar down. “We both stare down death every day. We watch it take those around us, indiscriminately. It teaches you a good appreciation of just how fucking fragile life really is, but at the same time, it almost anesthetises you.”
“It still hurts when it happens to someone you love.”
He sipped his drink again. “Sure. But I think facing off with death on a day-to-day basis makes you a little more stoic.”
“Is that what you did overseas? Face off with death.”
He drained his glass and plonked it back down on the table next to him. “Every damn day.”
I thought for a moment. “Who do you think did this? I mean, do you think it was random? Or did someone want Isaac dead?”
“I don’t know. Cade said he was messing around with H. Set up some rogue deal. Something like that would piss off a few people. Maybe it’s a message for the Kings to keep our paws off their heroin trade.” He picked up his guitar again and began to quietly strum it. “Whoever it was, they waited for the perfect shot and took it. He knew Isaac was going to be where he was; either that, or he followed him. And then he waited. Very patiently.”
“What makes you say that?”
His eyes shot to mine. “Because that’s what a sniper does.”
“You think whoever killed Isaac is ex-military?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say. He’s either really good and got in one shot that was meant for drama and a second to finish the job. Or he missed the first shot and scrambled to get a second in.”
“Your gut feeling?”
His eyes found mine. “My gut feeling is that it played out exactly how Isaac’s murderer wanted it to.”
I stayed at the wake for a little longer, but when it started to turn real messy, I walked home in the rain and hoped that wherever he was, Cade was okay.
I arrived home, soaked with rain, and decided to take a shower. I stripped off in the bathroom and stepped into a deliciously warm stream of water. I soaped up my body, lathered my hair with shampoo and then conditioner, and let the heat of the shower wash away the tension and grief. Slowly, my muscles began to relax and I sighed.
Today had been heartbreaking. Isaac’s funeral had been in stark contrast to my father’s. Jackie Parrish had lived a lot longer, whereas Isaac was still young and strong, with a pregnant wife and a small son who was left behind. But he was gone. And I struggled to understand why.
When I opened my eyes, the door to the bathroom opened and Cade stepped in, his face and hair soaked with rain.
I watched him pull his shirt over his head, remove his boots, and the rest of his clothes. When he was completely naked, he stepped into the shower, and without a word, took me in his arms and pressed his mouth to mine. My body immediately responded and I melted against him, seeking comfort and pleasure in his hard body as it commanded me backwards until my back was against the wet, tiled wall. His big hands moved up to my face while his mouth moved fiercely over mine until his kiss left me breathless.
But his kiss petered out as his emotion overtook him. I looked up into his tormented face. Pain and grief were like shadows in his eyes. His face was stiff and I could feel his heartbreak radiating from him with every beat of his heart. He dropped his forehead to mine.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his voice deep and strong, but at the same time, pained and heartbroken.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
He drew in a deep breath, his hooded eyes fixed to mine. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you . . .” His voice broke and his thumbs found the slick skin of my lower lip, his eyes intensely focused on it. I had only seen Cade cry once. When he was eighteen and he’d ridden all the way to Seattle to beg me to come back to him after we had broken up. Otherwise, he was fiercely stoic. But now, standing in the steam, he was barely in control.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied.
His anguish was deep. I watched him squeeze his eyes shut and felt the slow exhale of breath as he opened them again. Droplets of water fell in rivulets down his beautiful face and dripped onto his parted lips.
His brows drew together.
“It hurts,” he whispered.
I nodded. “I know.”
He tried to kiss me but his lips trembled against mine and he pulled away. He slapped his palms against the tiled wall and took a moment. Water poured over his head and down his broad, muscular back. His face crumpled and he slowly sank to his knees, burying his face in my stomach. His fingers pressed deep into my hips. When I felt him shake, I knew he had given into his heartache and he was crying. I ran my hand through the wet tendrils of his hair, soothing him as he wept for Isaac.
I gave him a moment, and then slid to the floor beside him, wrapping my arms around him and holding him as he shook with the pain and grief of having to bury his best friend.
CADE
I was determined to get to the bottom of why Isaac died.
I was going to look under every rock to find who was responsible.
The first person on my list was a ruthless thug called Saber. He was the president of The Knights, and if Isaac’s death had anything to do with them and their bullshit heroin trade, then I was going to find out, one way or another.
And they would pay.
Once upon a time, I would’ve felt apprehensive about walking into The Knights’ territory. Now I didn’t give a fuck. I was so full of anger and the blinding need for revenge, everything else seemed so unimportant.
I rode up on my bike and pulled up in front of the clubhouse. When two prospects stepped in front as me as I went for the front door, I gave th
em a warning look. Don’t fuck with me. I was there to speak to Saber, and I wasn’t fucking leaving until I got what I wanted.
“You’ve got some balls turning up here with that fucking cut on, pretty boy,” said a prospect with a huge chip on his shoulder and hair like a boy band member as he leaned in toward my face. I didn’t move. Ten points to the kid for trying to be intimidating, but he needed to work on it. He was a joke.
“Nice try, kid. But either you step aside and take me to your president, or I’m going to show you exactly how committed I am to getting past you right now. And I ain’t gonna lie to you, it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me. But make no mistake, one way or another, I’m getting inside that clubhouse and I’m talking to your president. Understand me . . . pretty boy?”
“I’ll go get Saber,” the other prospect said, quickly opening the door.
I didn’t wait for an invite. I brushed past NSYNC and entered the clubhouse. It was dimly lit and opened up to an open-plan bar right off the front door. Three Knights in cuts were seated at the bar and turned around when I walked in, while the Knight behind the bar continued drying the glass in his hand. Across the room by the jukebox, a girl in barely there clothes wrapped herself around a scrawny looking dude with greasy hair and facial fuzz. They were drunk and making out between laughing and stumbling around the dance floor.
As soon as my cut became obvious to everyone, the vibe in the room dropped and the air was tight with tension.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” One Knight growled as he came at me. He was my age, with scraggy hair and a patch on his cut that told me he was their SIA.
“I want to talk to Saber and I want to talk to him now,” I demanded.
“Is that right?” The SIA looked around at the others in the room and laughed. “Pretty boy with the dimples wants to talk to Saber . . . now.” He laughed and the others followed suit. But I said nothing, he could mock me all he liked. I didn’t give a fuck. I just stared at him, my emotions slowly simmering beneath a dark look.
He stepped toward me and grabbed my forearm, pulling us together. “And what the fuck makes you think that’s going to happen?”
I looked down at his hand on me, and then raised my eyes to burn directly into his. My words were slow, my tone low and dangerous. “Get. Your fucking hands. Off me.”
He didn’t move straight away. We were locked in battle and I could see he was weighing just how much of a threat I was to him. Slowly, his grip loosened.
“You’ve got balls coming in here, King.”
I watched him let go of my arm, then I leaned closer. “You put your hands on me again and I will break every one of your fucking fingers. Do you understand me? Every. Single. One. Of them.”
SIA laughed, but it was all bravado. His eyes betrayed him. He wiggled his fingers in front of my face and tried to laugh it off. “Oooooooooh, scary guy.”
I said nothing. But the look I gave him spoke volumes. I would take him down with no fucking hesitation if he got in my way again.
“Mind if I cut in, or is this a private dance?” came an amused voice from the bar.
It was Saber.
“Mind telling me why you’ve pushed your way into my clubhouse? Last I saw, this was a King-free zone.” He gave me his legendary poker face. He was renowned for keeping the same expression throughout every situation. Happy, same expression. Angry, same expression. Stabbing you in the chest with a bayonet, same expression. It made him unreadable, and in the MC world, that was dangerous.
“I want to know who killed Isaac,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “Isaac?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Who killed my cousin?”
“You mean that shooting outside of town last week? That was your cousin?”
“Cut the bullshit, Saber, you know it was. Tell me, was it payback?”
He stuck a toothpick between his lips. “Now why on Earth would there be a need for payback?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
He held his arms out at his side. “It’s all good, brother.”
A noise from across the room interrupted us. We both turned to look. The drunk biker by the jukebox shoved his girl away from him and called her a whore. We watched as he smacked her to her floor and stood over her.
Anger ripped through me. “You going to take care of that bullshit?”
Saber shrugged. He didn’t give a fuck. “Nah. I’m done here.”
He turned and began to walk away.
The drunk biker hauled the girl up from the floor and smashed her in the side of the face with his fist, sending her stumbling against the wall. I was at his side in an instant, just in time to stop him from inflicting a second blow.
Gripping him by the collar, I thrust him up against the wall.
“Every part of me wants you to try that again. Just so I have the pleasure of stopping you.” My voice was dangerously low and I had no doubt the look in my eyes let him know that there was no room for negotiation here. “You want to hit women, then you need to get past me first. Got it?”
Fury and frustration soared through me.
“Get the fuck off me,” he spat.
“You like to hurt women?”
“Fuck you.”
I smacked his head against the wall. My rage was a fucking freight train and it felt good having someone to release my fury onto. “You’re a real douche, you know that? A really fucked-up piece of shit.” I grasped his collar tighter and got real close to his face. “I see you hit a woman again, hell, if I even fucking hear about you hurting a woman, I am going to find you and break your goddamn face. Do you understand me?”
I released my grip on him and let him drop to his feet.
You would think he would walk away. You would think he would realize he had gotten away with it reasonably pain free and that walking away was in his best interest. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a swing at me and it clocked me right in the eyebrow, splitting the skin open and sending blood trickling into the corner of my eye.
The fuckstick had pushed my last button.
And now I was going to have to hurt him.
It took three Knights to pull me off him. Then two of them held me back while one big mountain of a man called Hogg got ready to throw a few punches into me. But he was stopped by Saber’s gruff voice in the doorway, commanding him to back down.
“Enough,” he ordered.
Reluctantly, the thugs released their grip on me.
But I was already seeing red. Blood fucking red. So, as soon as I was free, I seized the gun I had shoved into the back of my jeans, and within a second, I was pointing it at them.
“Any of you assholes come at me again and I will kill you,” I warned. And I meant it. I was done with being the nice guy.
Fucking done.
All three Knights took a step back. The woman-beater slumped in a bloody mess on the floor groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. Saber glared at me from the doorway. Unlike the other men, his body language was relaxed, unthreatened, because the fact that I had a gun pointed at them in their clubhouse was more disrespectful to him than an actual threat.
“You might want to think about what you’re doing, Cade,” he warned. “Such a show of disrespect can be very unhealthy.”
“You tell these goons to keep their hands to themselves and I walk out of here.” I gave him a pointed look. “With all my teeth.”
He thought for a moment and then nodded at Hogg and his two sidekicks, before turning his gaze back to me. He folded his big arms across his chest. Along his forearm, amongst the collage of tattoos, were three thick, black crosses. Rumor had it, they represented the three lives he had taken.
“We are at peace, my friend. But if you ever come into my club and pull a gun on any of my brothers again, you won’t be walking out of here in one piece. Me casa ain’t no su casa. You got it?”
We stared at each other for a m
oment, his words hanging between us. I glanced at the girl shaking on the floor.
“She comes with me,” I said.
Saber thought for a moment, his eyes dark and menacing. “You both leave now.”
I walked over to the girl and hauled her up by her elbow, then turning my back on my rivals, walked out of the clubhouse and into the midday sun.
INDY
I don’t know what I expected when Cade returned. But him walking in with a busted-up girl from a rival club wasn’t it.
I was in the clubhouse when the door opened and Cade swaggered in with the girl, Joker and Vader behind him.
“What’s going on?” I asked as he walked toward me. I looked past him at the girl. Her face looked like she’d gone a few rounds with a brick wall.
“She needs medical attention,” Cade said without looking at me. He made his way around the bar and dug a hand into the built-in ice bucket in the counter. I could read Cade like a book. He was angry at everyone and everything, and he wasn’t going to bother hiding it.
I folded my arms and didn’t move. “I can see that.”
“Good. Then how about you see to fixing her.”
I remained rooted to the spot. One eyebrow went up. “I’m going to need a little more information than that,” I said bluntly.
Only now did Cade look at me. His usually sparkling eyes were dark and cold. “She’s got a busted lip. A black eye—Jesus Christ, Indy, I’m not the one with a medical degree.”
He pulled his hand from the ice bucket and wrapped it in a wet towel. But before they disappeared under the fabric, I noticed some very bruised knuckles. He’d been in a fight. Not with the mysterious girl— Cade would never touch a woman in anger—no, if I were to guess, I would say he got those swollen knuckles giving someone a taste of their own medicine.
Fine. I unfolded my arms. Because he had obviously helped save this girl from whatever had happened to her, I was prepared to let it go. For now.
I looked over at her. She was shivering. Not because she was cold, but because she was broken. And quite possibly drunk. Mascara ran in big black streaks down her cheeks and she wouldn’t look at me. She simply wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the ground.
