Knight: Dead Legion MC #3

by Krane, Kasey

  Bishop and Judge had told the club yesterday, after the Sangre shootout, that the Outlaws had ended up in Playas. Playas has a mine was only miles outside of town, and I had to wonder if the Sangre had ended up in pretty much the same damn place as the Outlaws on purpose. Were the two working together? As bizarre as that seemed, it sure was one hell of a coincidence.

  “What was the disagreement about? It must’ve been one heck of a ‘disagreement’ to split the club in two.”

  Of course, she would use my same phrasing, but cleaner. She was cleaner, purer, nicer than me in every way.

  I popped my chip, slathered with salsa, into my mouth, giving me time to think. Time to come up with some version of the truth that was still…the truth.

  “Management. Didn’t like how the Dead Legion was being run.” When she simply stared at me, arching an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue, I sighed. “Bishop is the prez now; Ghost was before. Didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. It eventually went downhill.”

  “And who is the president of the Outlaws ?”

  “Butcher.”

  She blinked, surprised. “Not Ghost?”

  “Ghost’s…dead.”

  She stared at me, contemplative. Thinking. I squirmed internally. Goddammit, who died and put me in charge of this shit? I wanted to tell Leia the truth about her dad and what happened to my club like I wanted to drop an engine block on my foot. Without my boots on. Sure, Butcher was an awful human being, but was it really up to me to break Leia’s heart?

  “So tell me this: If I were to ask Butcher what happened between the two groups, would his explanation be the same as yours? Or would he have something different to say about why the club split?”

  It was my turn to stare at her, thinking. What would Butcher say caused the group to split? He probably wouldn't tell his own daughter that the club split up because Butcher and Ghost and the rest of the Outlaws wanted to sell guns to the Sangre, and Bishop didn’t. Not after what happened. Sure as hell not after the shoot out and the rescue of the little girls went international.

  I honestly didn't know what excuse Butcher would give for breakup of the Dead Legion, but I was pretty sure that whatever the excuse, Butcher would make sure it painted him in the best light possible.

  In the end, I shrugged. “Can’t guess what he’d say.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to ask him myself,” Leia said with a bright smile. Somehow, she hadn’t been put off from meeting her father after what I had just told her. I desperately wished for the magic words that would dissuade her from meeting Butcher, while also not breaking her heart into a million little pieces. With her mom dead and no siblings, Butcher apparently was her only family left and Leia seemed damn determined to turn him into a doting father. It remained to be seen how Butcher would take to this. I had known him for years, and…it just didn’t seem like a good idea.

  When we finished up breakfast, I tossed some bills on the table and we walked back out into the sunshine, brighter and hotter than it had been just the hour before. Leia grabbed the bottom of her tank top and began waving it, trying to pull air up inside of it to cool her off. I knew that she wasn’t attempting to be sexy in any way with this innocent gesture but I still had to swallow back a groan as she gave me glimpses of her stupidly perfect belly and chest. It was as if God had decided that I hadn't been tortured enough in my life – He was going to plant the most delectable non-sheep on the face of the planet in my path and then force me to keep my hands to myself.

  Finally, she stopped fanning herself and I could start breathing again.

  “So, do you know where the Outlaws are?”

  “Yup, out in Playas.” We were nearing the hotel room.

  “Playas? You mean, like where the shootout happened yesterday?”

  I shrugged trying to play it cool again. “The shootout was out at the mine. The Outlaws are in the city limits. But yeah, close by.”

  “That seems awfully coincidental,” Leia said, surprised. “You don't think the Outlaws and the Sangre are together somehow, do you?”

  Goddamn. I could only hope that I never had to get anything past Leia, ‘cause it fucking wasn't happening.

  “Police are watching ‘em,” I shrugged. “Haven't seen anything yet, but no one’s for sure.”

  “Well, I think I ought to go meet my dad and see for myself. My mom loved him from the moment she met him and until the day she died, she never said a bad word about him. She always told me that I was the only love that she needed after she couldn’t be with him and as far as I know, she never even went on another date with another man. To have someone love you like that…He couldn’t be a bad guy, you know? My mom wouldn’t have loved him if he was a bad guy.”

  We were standing on the tiny porch in front of the motel room, huddled underneath the scant shade. I had wanted to hear what she said - let her finish her thoughts - before I said anything. I knew whether I helped her get to Butcher or not, she wouldn’t stop trying to find him. Maybe the only way to keep her safe, was to actually take her to Butcher myself. Besides Bishop wanted me to use Leia as an in for the Outlaws. Finally sure that she’d finished, I asked, “How do you feel about bikes?”

  “Bikes? You mean like pedaling down the—” and then she caught herself. “Oh!” A light blush covered her cheeks. “You mean like a Harley. Right. Ummm…I've never been on one. Is that what you drive?”

  I swallowed my chuckle and simply said, “I ride a 1961 Harley Duo Glide 1200cc. Wanna go meet your dad?”

  6

  Leia

  Turns out, a 1961 Harley Duo Glide 1200cc was a long, sleek, red, totally restored vintage motorcycle. Which I probably should have picked up on from the “1961” part of the description, but the rest of it had been so overwhelming (duo what?) that I hadn’t really grasped everything he’d said. Not to mention that the whole thing was more syllables than Knight normally strung together in three replies, let alone one. I had never met a man who said so much with so few words.

  He was parked over in the back corner of the motel parking lot, tucked away in a sliver of shade that was quickly disappearing under the onslaught of the hot sun.

  He handed me a helmet and then helped me strap it on. He had his own on already, and a pair of sunglasses to shield his eyes from the wind. It blocked my view of his face entirely, turning him into a stranger.

  And then it was time to swing my leg over and up behind Knight, where I hesitantly placed my hands on his hips. This seemed incredibly intimate and I wondered if Knight wanted me to scoot further away from him. I tried, but there was a low, silver bar digging at the small of my back and I could move no further.

  “You’re going to have to be a lot closer while we ride,” Knight said over his shoulder. Closer? I gulped back my rising panic at the idea. Maybe it isn’t too late for us to go in my car.

  But before I could voice the cowardly thought, Knight said impatiently, “C’mon. You gotta move closer and hang on. If you don’t, we both die. When I move, you move. You gotta follow me. Otherwise, everything gets off balance and we end up in the ditch.”

  Which officially made that the longest response Knight had ever given me. If I had known he’d get so chatty around his bike, I would’ve drug him out and sat him on a motorcycle yesterday.

  I gingerly scooted forward again, nestling my thighs against his. I could feel his hard muscles at play, thick and long and I gulped back the other naughty thought that popped into my mind about the other part of him that would also be long and thick and hard.

  Don't think about that. You’ve got to focus.

  Impatient with my turtle speed, he grabbed my hands and pulled them up from his waist and wrapped them instead around his chest. I was officially hugging him, which meant the only way we could be any closer physically would be if we had stripped naked before we got on the bike.

  A thought which made me swallow hard again.

  Knight started the bike, a deep rumble that vibrated through me, setting my sense
s on fire. It was the strangest feeling - like I was sitting on a full body vibrator, which made me wonder why more women didn't ride bikes. It sure seemed like something more women would want to do, if this was what it felt like.

  Maybe Cosmo just hadn’t written an article on it yet.

  We backed out of the parking spot and then hung a right to get onto the main road. I did my best to move when he did; I was not too excited about the idea of dying and thus decided that following Knight’s advice was a damn good idea. After a few more stop signs, we got out on the open road, which was when I found out that long hair and motorcycles don’t mix. I closed my eyes and snuggled my face against Knight’s back, trying to block out the wind and the hair. Next time, I would have to braid my hair before I got on the bike.

  Next time…why do I think there’ll be a next time?

  But I was too busy being distracted by the muscles at play under my fingertips to continue my train of thought. I could feel his rippling muscles moving and flexing as we wove through the low hills of the desert. I found myself absentmindedly stroking his chest and had to make myself stop. I started remembering what his chest and abs had looked like without his shirt on the night before, when he’d stripped in front of me, and made myself stop.

  My mind, ever the traitor, then began wondering how old he was. My best guess was that he was older than me. Maybe somewhere in his thirties? Would he be interested in me if he knew I was only in my early twenties? Ten years seemed like a huge age gap on paper, but feeling my body so close to his the way it was right now made me wonder if age even mattered.

  The bike slowed down and I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the sun and the wind. A few buildings were scattered around, so I figured we had to be inside the city limits of Playas. Or, maybe this was just a town on our way there. I had stupidly forgotten to ask how far away Playas was. In my defense, I figured I was doing good to remember how to breathe around Knight, but still…

  The bike slowed further and we came to a gentle stop in front of an old, rundown warehouse. I sat back and pulled my hands away from his stomach and chest, reluctant to lose that connection but also realizing that continuing to cling to him would look pretty ridiculous when we got off the bike.

  As I pushed my hair out of my eyes, I saw three men materialize out of the shadows. They were holding rifles in their hands, eyes skimming over the two of us. I wondered for a moment if Knight used to be close to any of them - if it was hard to see them again.

  “I’m here to see my dad,” I called out, hoping to defuse the tension thick in the air. “Is Butcher here?” I swung my leg off the bike and smiled at the men, trying to act as if everything was fine. As if it was normal to claim Butcher as my father. As if it was normal to ride up to a biker club and be greeted by men toting guns. I stood on the far side of the bike, a pathetic shield between me and them.

  Knight was still on the bike and I saw that he had not-so-casually placed his hand on the butt of his handgun in a holster up by the handlebars. I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted was a shootout to happen because of me. Or to happen at all, really…

  “Butcher? He ain’t got no daughter,” one of the men said and they all inched a little closer and Knight’s hand clamped a little tighter.

  “Well, that’s because he doesn’t know I exist,” I said with a bright tone in my voice. Which came out sounding remarkably Pollyanna to the extreme, even to her own ears.

  Apparently, naïveté was my self-defense.

  “Is Butcher here?” Knight finally spoke up. “He’s gonna wanna hear what she has to say.”

  Without another word, the man closest to the door ducked into the building while the other two stood there silently. The air was thick and tense. I could tell that there was a lot of issues between Knight and these guys, and the fact that he was here was putting them all on edge. But I had to focus. I was here to meet my dad.

  My dad.

  What a weird fucking thought. After years of not knowing a damn thing about the man, I was finally going to meet him. Would I have his nose? My nose didn’t look a damn thing like my mom’s nose had. What about my crooked toes? My toes were long and crooked and I hated them and my mother’s toes hadn’t looked anything like mine; I had always wondered if they came from my father.

  I couldn’t exactly ask him to take off his boots so I could look. Even I knew that. Well, at least not at their first meeting.

  The third man came back out of the building and beckoned me towards him. As I started walking towards him, I started to wonder if this was a bad idea. I had no idea who any of these men really were. The only one I remotely trusted was Knight, and I barely knew him. I sensed movement and turned to see Knight pull his gun out of the holster on his bike and tuck it into the small of his back, and then swing his leg off the bike to join me.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the tall man said, pointing his gun straight at Knight. “I didn’t say nothin’ about you. Butcher said only the girl.”

  “Not gonna happen,” Knight said calmly. “Both or none.” I opened up my mouth to protest - Knight had not asked me what I thought and I did not appreciate his high handedness - but as I looked back at him, his face looked like it was carved out of granite, and I was pretty sure that this was an argument I would lose. That they were all going to lose.

  The tall guy disappeared again while Knight and the other two men had a silent standoff, no one giving an inch. I realized that my hands were shaking and I put them behind my back to hide the evidence of my cowardice. This had seemed like such a good idea in the safety of my childhood home. When I had been reading about how much my mother loved my father.

  This, though, was a whole different ballgame.

  The tall guy reappeared in the doorway and said, “Butcher says you can come in, Knight, but we pat you down beforehand. Which means your Desert Eagle has to go.”

  Knight shoved his handgun into the holster on his motorcycle and then, grabbing my elbow and steering me towards the door, brushed past the other two Outlaws.

  “I said, we pat you down. No weapons at all.”

  Knight stopped, a muscle twitching in his cheek. I could tell he was debating on whether or not he could get away with brushing past them and for one endless moment, I thought that I really would get shot and killed on the streets of Playas.

  I was starting to regret coming here now. I could hear the faint echoes of the haunting whistle playing in an endless loop in my ear.

  Knight dropped his hand from my elbow and stepped away from me, spreading his arms and legs apart to make it easy to pat him down. The tall guy moved towards Knight but the third guy, a short fat man with a straggly beard, moved towards me. I couldn’t help it - I blanched at the idea of this man putting his hands on my body.

  “Hell no,” Knight growled and the short, fat man stopped and looked at tall guy for orders.

  “Butcher said to pat Knight down for weapons. He didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout the girl,” he decreed. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying not to show how happy I was to hear that.

  “Going to go take down an army, are you?” the tall guy said mildly as he added another weapon to the ever-growing pile next to Knight’s feet. They even made Knight take off his boots, where they found another knife and a tiny pistol located. I shoved my fist in my mouth to keep from hysterically laughing. I had never seen anyone actually shove a pistol in their shoes before, at least not in real life.

  Finally content that they’d found everything, they let Knight put his boots back on. “We’ll keep an eye on your stuff for you,” the short one said and patted the pile with a nasty grin.

  “If I find so much as a dent in a blade, I’ll come find you,” Knight said in the most terrifying quiet voice I had ever heard - almost more terrifying because it was so quiet. He grabbed my elbow and began steering us towards the front door. He still had that tic in his cheek, but before I could ask him if he was okay, I heard a booming voice.

  “What’s this I hear abou
t you being my daughter?”

  7

  Knight

  When we had been riding from Deming to Playas, I had been so distracted by Leia’s hands running up and down his chest, I had almost crashed my bike a couple of times. I wondered if she had any idea of the effect she had on me. Then she stopped running her hands up and down my abs, which was almost as distracting, because then I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d stopped.

  And her tits pressed against my back…Every time we went around a corner, I was just sure my cock was going to pop out of my pants, which would fucking embarrass the hell outta me. I had to keep my cock under control.

  Something that was easier to do once we got to Playas. Seeing Skinner, Razor, and Dutch again was harder than I had expected it to be. These men had been my brothers for so long and now, they were my enemies. I had to keep my head in the game though, and make sure that Leia was safe. Nothing else mattered.

  I could see it on her face as soon as we walked into the Outlaws clubhouse: Butcher wasn’t pretty on the best of days, but today, he was uglier than normal. He must've gotten beaten up in some fight, because he had a patch over his left eye and there was swelling all around it. His face was deep purplish blue color that I was sure was going to turn into a sickly yellow-green hue in the next day or two.

  It was too bad I wasn’t the one who caused his face to look like that. After betraying the club, I didn’t have much respect for my former brothers.

  Leia walked over to Butcher and held out her hand as if they were in an office, meeting for the first time. “Hi, I’m Leia. My mom is Janice. I found her diary and you’re my dad.” I couldn't hide the grimace that crossed my face. All of that information was true, but I was beginning to realize that Leia wasn't the best at making sense when she was nervous.

  Hesitantly, Butcher shook her hand and said gruffly, “Janice? Shit, girl, she was fucking 20 years ago.”