HATE: MADISON KATE #1

by James Tate

  He didn't make it far, though, with Kody catching him easily and locking him in a painful-looking arm bar to frog-march him back across the grass to where I stood near Archer.

  The girl grabbed her shit and took off too, but no one even spared her a glance, let alone dragged her back kicking and screaming like her boyfriend. Or... random hookup as the case may be. She sure as shit wasn't hanging around to involve herself in his drama.

  "Let's go," Archer said in a voice like ice, turning to leave and just expecting everyone to follow him, I guessed. The commanding tone rubbed my combative personality the wrong way, but for once in my life, I bit my tongue. There was so much more going on with these guys, and this was my opportunity to find out what.

  Silently, I followed Archer back to our car, where Kody and Steele manhandled the random dude into the trunk and slammed it closed.

  "Now what?" I asked as Archer pulled the keys from his pocket and spun them around his index finger. He didn't reply, but gave Kody—who stood closest to me—a pointed look.

  Kody gave a short nod in reply, then swept my hair over my shoulder and brought his lips close to my ear. They loved doing that to me, and I was starting to question if these things really did need to be secrets or if they'd just worked out that it was one of those nonsexual turn-ons that made my knees weak and my nipples hard.

  "Stay silent, MK," he urged me. "Anything you say can and will be repeated back to Zane. Better to give this prick nothing to work with, yeah?"

  Chills raised the hair on the back of my neck at Zane's name. Whatever the fuck these guys were involved with, I wanted no part of it.

  But then... was I ready to walk away? Would my curiosity let me just close my eyes and play ignorant to what was about to happen? Those weren't even serious questions because I already knew the answers.

  No. No way in hell.

  So I gave Kody a small nod of agreement and silently slid into the backseat with Steele beside me.

  Someone called out to Archer, pausing him before he got into the driver's seat. I couldn't hear what was said, but Archer's response was clear.

  "Allowances were made for you, Moore. Not your boys. Next time you forget that, the message will be sent to Ferryman." The threat was evident in his voice, and I strained my ears to hear Dallas's response.

  There was a short pause, then, "Understood. It won't happen again. Can I have a minute to speak with Katie?"

  Archer didn't hesitate for even a second. "No."

  He slid into his seat and slammed the door, starting the engine and pulling out of park before Kody had even buckled his seat belt. Archer didn't make any move to put his belt on, and my anxiety spiked.

  After a minute of driving, I cracked.

  "Put your seat belt on," I snapped, biting my lip as soon as the words left my mouth. But for fuck’s sake, it was the law for a reason.

  Archer peered a quick look at me over his shoulder, and that only ratcheted my anxiety up higher. Thankfully, though, he must have seen how serious I was and smoothly clicked the buckle home a second later.

  I forced myself to release a breath, letting go of the slight panic. Steele silently reached across the seat and snagged my hand in his. I tried to pull away, hating that they'd just seen that, but he held firm, lacing our fingers together.

  As much as I still wanted to hold my grudge against him, he was fast wearing me down. His grip on my hand was reassuring and grounding. I kind of loved it.

  * * *

  Archer didn't drive us home. Not that I'd really expected him to take a kidnapped gangster—because I was going out on a limb and guessing he was a Reaper—back to our home, but I hadn't expected the destination we'd ended up at.

  "Here?" I asked, stunned and full of dread as I peered up at the giant, dilapidated clown face. Apparently The Laughing Clown hadn't been one of my father's integration projects, or he hadn't made it this far yet, because it looked just as run-down and shitty as the last time I'd been there.

  Archer flashed me a warning look as we got out of his car, and I mimed zipping my lips shut. Kody and Steele hauled the guy out of the trunk and threw him on the gravel of the parking lot.

  "You don't want to do this," the guy yelled at them—us—as he rolled to his feet. "You're making a big mistake. Zane told me to go to that party. I was on orders."

  Archer—so very clearly the one in charge here—folded his arms and sneered at the tattooed gangster. Now that I was taking a better look at him, I spotted the prominent reaper tattoo on the side of his neck and the black bandanna with white reaper logos tied to his belt loops.

  "That's exactly why you're here, Skunk," Archer commented, his voice hard and resigned. "Zane threw you to the wolves. Be sure to let him know how much I appreciate him testing the limits."

  He nodded to Kody and Steele, both of whom wore the hardened expressions of practiced killers. Steele was taping his hands to protect them against whatever they were about to do. It didn’t take a genius to work that one out.

  What the fuck have I walked into?

  The guy—Skunk—babbled pleas for mercy, but they fell on deaf ears. He howled with pain as the first strike of Kody's fist landed across his face, and I flinched.

  "Princess," Archer rumbled, turning his back on the scene and stroking a long lock of pink hair away from my face. His index finger tipped my chin up, bringing my eyes in line with his as his huge body blocked everything behind him. "Look at me. Not them."

  The heavy sound of fists hitting flesh, accompanied by the cries of pain from Skunk, made me want to look. I started to turn my face, but Archer shifted his grip and held my chin firm.

  "I said, look at me." His tone was sharp and unyielding. It did all kinds of confusing things to my fucked up emotions, but regardless of whether I was scared or turned on or both... I did what he said.

  For what felt like an eternity, Kody and Steele beat the shit out of Skunk until no more noises came.

  I breathed a small breath of relief when the sounds stopped, but I relaxed too soon.

  "Break his legs," Archer ordered, not losing eye contact with me for even a second. His fingers still gripped my chin tight enough to hurt, but I let him. Maybe it was weak of me, but I didn't want to see. It was enough that I heard and knew.

  Seconds later, the sickening crush of breaking bones echoed through the still night, and my stomach rolled dangerously.

  "Turn around," Archer ordered me in a quiet, no-arguments voice. "Go back to the car and get in. Do not turn back. Understood?"

  Fear and anxiety choked me, but I didn't argue. I tried to nod, but he hadn't let go of my chin and a fucked up part of me didn't want him to.

  "Tell me," he ordered, his voice rough.

  I licked my lips, wetting them before replying. "I understand."

  Archer gave me a tight nod, then fucking kissed me.

  It was a quick kiss, almost like a reflex gesture, but the sheer dominance and possession in that one kiss made my heart damn near fucking stop beating.

  "Go," he told me when he released me, and I stumbled over to his car, feeling like I'd just taken a shot of pure adrenaline.

  I popped the door handle of the passenger side, sliding into the front seat without a second glance over my shoulder. But after I closed the door, my curiosity won. I looked in the side mirror.

  It was dark, the only light coming from the bright moon, but I was still able to see enough. I watched as Archer walked over to Kody and Steele, peering down at the crumpled heap of unconscious gangster on the gravel at their feet. He crouched down, pulling a butterfly knife from his back pocket and flicking it open with way too much ease. The blade glinted a vibrant, bloody red in the moonlight, then he leaned over Skunk to do... something. His broad body blocked Skunk from my view, but when he stood up again, the tip of his blade dripped crimson onto the gravel.

  Holy shit. Did he just stab him? Am I an accessory to murder?

  Cold shock washed over me, and I swallowed a couple of times, my gaze
locked on the mirror as Archer wiped his knife off with Skunk’s bandana and tucked the blade back in his pocket. He stood there a moment, talking to Kody and Steele and I just... watched.

  Shouldn't I have been more worried? More disgusted and horrified and... scared?

  But I wasn't. The fear was there, no doubt about it, but stronger than any other emotion in me... I was fucking excited.

  Adrenaline burned through my veins in the same way my hatred used to. These boys were turning out to be much, much more than I'd given them credit for, and I was craving the depths of their darkness like a drug.

  It was a shame they'd tried to screw me so hard a year ago because I might have just found my soulmates.

  31

  No one spoke the whole way home. Steele and Kody were coated in blood, and Archer's right hand, resting on the steering wheel, held unmistakable rust-brown marks.

  When we pulled into the garage, I made no moves to get out of the car straight away. I had so many questions I couldn't even think where to begin.

  "Go and wash up," Archer told the other two, looking at them in the rear view mirror. His voice still held that cutting edge of authority, and it wasn't one that encouraged arguments or disagreement.

  Kody let out a long sigh, then hopped out of the back seat and slammed the door behind him, no doubt hurrying to get to their shared bathroom first—such a brat.

  Steele popped his door open, and I spoke before he got out.

  "You can use my shower," I said in a soft voice. "If you don't want to wait." I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder and internalized my flinch at just how much blood coated him. His hands and arms were the worst, but splatters coated his face and neck too. His dark T-shirt hid any blood there, but it was a safe bet to say it was probably messy. "We both know Kody will need to shampoo his hair about sixteen times to stop it from staining pink."

  I was joking—blood didn't stain hair that quickly—but he'd want to get onto it soon, considering he'd bleached it and opened the hair cuticle up.

  Steele shot me a quick grin. "Thanks, Hellcat." He climbed out of the car and closed the door somewhat softer than Kody had before heading into the house.

  And that left me and Archer alone in the silent car.

  "You handled that well, Princess Danvers," he said after a long, tense silence. He wasn't looking at me, but at his hands on the steering wheel.

  I made an annoyed grunt in my throat. "You can stop calling me that any day now."

  A half smile tugged at his lips, and he shifted his gaze toward me. "Never."

  I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so... am I allowed to ask questions now?"

  He turned slightly in his seat, facing more toward me and bracing his elbow on the steering wheel. "You can ask anything you want, Princess."

  I narrowed my eyes in a glare. "Subtext being that I can ask, but you won't necessarily answer. Prick."

  A brief, amused look flashed across his face, and he inclined his head in agreement. Secretive fucking bastard. I quickly wondered if I might have an easier time getting answers from Steele or Kody, but quickly dismissed the idea. Archer was the one in charge, and if he wasn't talking, no one was.

  I considered everything that had happened that night, from Dallas's guys showing up, all the way to Kody, Steele, and Archer coming home coated in blood.

  "Who was he?" I asked, referring to Skunk.

  Archer's eyes didn't change. No remorse or guilt even flickered, and I bit my lip. Something about that hard-ass attitude drove me wild. It spoke to a seriously damaged history, and it drew me in like a magnetic field.

  "No one," he replied, cold and detached. "He was a means to an end. Nothing more."

  I nodded slowly, having sort of drawn that conclusion already myself. "He was a message," I clarified. "To your brother?"

  "He was a warning," Archer corrected, "to the leader of the Shadow Grove Reapers."

  "And what were you warning him about?" I was burning with curiosity, and it was all I could do to keep my tone calm, my voice even. Archer wasn't going to respond to screaming, hysterical demands for answers.

  He tilted his head to the side, his gaze assessing as he answered me. "To respect the terms of our agreement," he responded, cryptically. "He broke the rules by sending Skunk to Bree's party tonight."

  Interesting.

  "And Drew? How does she factor into this?"

  A small smile played at his lips again. "She's a Reaper."

  My brows shot up. I hadn't expected that answer.

  "She's also a loose end that Kody has been needing to cut off for far too long, so thank you for helping in that regard tonight." Something flashed in his eyes, and an arrogant part of me imagined it to be jealousy.

  I couldn't help myself.

  "My pleasure," I replied, with a self-satisfied smirk.

  His gaze darkened to dangerous depths, and I quickly moved on.

  "What's your agreement with Zane?" His name burned my tongue like acid, and I swallowed heavily after saying it. That deranged piece of shit had murdered my mom, and the dirty cops of Shadow Grove had let him get away with it.

  Archer gave me a small head shake. "Try again, Princess Danvers."

  I sighed in frustration, not wasting my breath on any other pointless questions. He wasn't going to tell me anything useful.

  "Can I see your knife?" I have no idea why I asked that, except that I wanted to see why it'd looked red in the moonlight. It was one of those odd details that my brain was tripping on. A glitch in the matrix.

  One brow arched, and he gave me a curious look. "You weren't supposed to look back, Madison Kate."

  I smiled, smug. "I didn't. But you see, cars have these really cool things attached to the sides, and they've got this reflective stuff that shows you what's behind the car."

  His eyes narrowed. "Semantics."

  I shrugged, unrepentant. "Learn to be more specific in your orders, D'Ath. So, can I see it?"

  He watched me a moment longer, face impassive, before leaning forward and taking the butterfly knife from his back pocket.

  "Happy?" he asked, holding it out in his flat palm for me to see. It was still folded, but I could tell I hadn't imagined things. The blade itself was a lush, deep copper-red and the handle a brushed charcoal-gray. I’d never seen a knife quite like it in my life… not that I made a habit of looking at tattooed thugs’ weapons.

  I reached out to touch it, but Archer whipped it out of my reach and pocketed it again.

  "Not a chance, Princess," he murmured. "Is that all? I really need to wash the stink of pathetic gangster off my skin."

  I sighed. "For now, I suppose."

  We exited the car, then walked through the garage to the house in strangely companionable silence. Something had shifted between us, and it wasn't totally because of that quick make-out session at Bree's party.

  "You know Steele is probably jerking off in your shower, right?" Archer commented as we flipped the lights to the garage off and set the perimeter alarms.

  I spluttered and laughed. "What? Why would you say that?"

  He just shrugged, totally serious. "Because it's true. He will have used your shampoo or something. Then started picturing you in the shower washing your hair, then he'd be thinking about you wet and naked, covered in soap..." He arched a brow at me as he headed for the stairs. "I don't blame him; I would too."

  With that fucking grenade tossed, he jogged up the stairs and left me standing there with my mouth hanging open. It was a sexy look, I was sure. Thankfully, no one was around to witness it, though, because it took me way longer than I'd have liked to find my brain again.

  "What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, dumbfounded, as I slowly made my way up the stairs. I was exhausted, confused, and still had no panties on. I badly needed some pajamas and my bed.

  I pushed my bedroom door open, then froze two steps into the room. Steam billowed out of my attached bathroom, thanks to the half-open door. Steele was apparently still showering and
hadn't bothered closing the door properly before he got in.

  Or had that been intentional?

  Archer's words played in my mind, taunting me as I quietly moved across to my dresser and opened my pajamas drawer. I snatched out a comfy pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then moved up to the top drawer to grab out some panties. When I straightened up, my gaze snagged on movement in my mirror.

  Fucking hell.

  My mirror was positioned in such a way that it reflected the bathroom mirror when the door was open. That mirror? That one showed the tall, tanned, tattooed man in my shower.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I goddamn knew I needed to look away. I knew it... but I didn't do it. I couldn't. His back was to the mirror, and I simply couldn't tear my eyes from the slick planes of his muscles. A tattoo of an angel covered his whole upper back, and it sparked questions in me. He didn't strike me as the religious type, so what did the angel represent? Who?

  He shifted then, turning his body into the spray and giving me an uninterrupted view of his thick, straight shaft firmly grasped in his soapy fist. His eyes were closed, and I felt like the worst kind of pervert, but I didn't look away. I watched, unblinking, as his hand worked up and down his cock. His pace increased until he braced himself against the tiles with his free hand and came with a low groan. Semen erupted from his engorged cock, mixing with the running water and disappearing instantly.

  My mouth watered, and my cunt clenched with desire, but still I couldn't look away. His inked chest was rising and falling heavily, and I watched while he rinsed himself off again—using my body wash—then ducked his head under the spray.

  That should have been my cue to leave, but I was damn near rooted to the spot, frozen there with crippling arousal. Maybe I was scared that if I moved, I'd come from the friction of walking. Who knew? Regardless, a second later, his eyes flickered open and met mine dead on in the mirror—like he knew I'd been there all along.

  "Fuck!" In my haste to pretend I hadn't just watched him jerking off in the shower, I slammed my underwear drawer shut and caught my finger in it. I stuck my finger in my mouth to dull the pain, cursing myself out mentally in a million different ways.