by Marata Eros
“Yes, I'm aware of that Ms. Christo. That was unfortunate timing.”
I open my mouth, and he holds up a finger.
“The charges against Mr. Corbin were cleared.”
Holy crap. “Yes, but—” My palms tingle with dampness.
“He has not been in jail or convicted since of any misdeed, is a model citizen who gives to charities, has held down the same job for the last five years, and has petitioned to see his son.”
He strikes his gavel with a sharp tap. “Visitation granted.”
A wheeze comes from Dad's throat and he rushes Drake, screaming about the injustice of the decision.
I agree as they haul Dad out of the courtroom.
I stand there, dazed.
Drake is at my elbow in seconds, and I cringe away from him. “Gotcha.” His breath is still foul, and a memory trigger kicks in, shooting adrenaline through my veins like lit gasoline.
He walks out of the courtroom, but nearly stumbles into a figure sitting as still as a statue in the back.
Noose.
Or I think it’s Noose. Hard to know for certain when he's wearing a mask.
9
Noose
Rose looks fragile. Beaten.
Leaning back, I toss my arms over the back of the bench. I know the judge. He's dirty. There was nothing I could do to avoid that. He'd been bought and paid for a long time before I ever even knew Rose existed.
I'm hot as fuck in the back row, heating vent up my ass blowing hot air underneath the bench doesn't help. I'd slid into the last bench seat right after the preceding began.
I listened to Diablo say how he just wanted to see his boy, that it was tragic that Anna Christo was no longer here, but should Charlie not have the attention of a natural parent since one was still here?
God he's good. He'd been coached, of course. The fuck. Groomed to the T.
Love the turtleneck. I can't keep the smile from my face when he adjusted the thing like a tie. Probably abrading the fuck out of his neck.
Good.
My smile vanishes when the verdict goes down. Rose turns, bravely facing the door.
They drag her dad away, the Mom wailing and crying in the background. A fucking hot mess.
I tense when Diablo gets near Rose, and stand when he says something to her. I'm trying to hold my temper. Losing my shit in a court of law will get me nothing but behind bars. That won’t help Rose. Diablo won't touch her. Not here.
I received some odd looks from the guards, but I haven't done anything wrong, just got their attention. Wannabes.
I finger the small rope in my pocket, wanting to wrap a certain neck. The familiar motion calms me. Gives me focus.
Knots always do.
Diablo strides down the aisle, shaking hands, grinning like a clown. Probably feeling like he's won.
He hasn't. Unless winning a death warrant is what he's going for.
Rose sort of glides after him, an empty, shocked look in her eyes.
Diablo finally notices me, and his confident stride stutters.
He knows who I am. The mask hides nothing. It just keeps my promise to Rose not to show my face.
It's a mask of the devil. A play on his road name. Because Diablo means devil.
And if I have anything to do about it, he's going straight to hell.
*
Rose watches our standoff. I see her in my periphery, eyes swinging between us.
Finally, she scoots past, going for the door.
Diablo steps into my airspace, and I itch to rope him and pull it tight, cinching that knot until it meets the other in perfect symmetry. Tough to deny the perfection of the fantasy.
I breathe through the sensation. The urge is so strong, I smell the rope and feel the burn of the twine beneath my bare fingers.
“The bitch is mine,” Diablo murmurs so softly, no one but me can hear.
He won't take me like this. If Diablo thinks I'll lose my shit here, he doesn't know who he's up against.
I smile, my cheeks pushing the mask up. Guards shuffling restlessly around us.
Saying nothing, I turn and leave the courtroom, after Rose.
*
When my feet clear the last marble step, I jog to her side, grabbing her arm.
I spin Rose around. Her cheeks are wet with tears. She’s bit her lip practically in half to keep from sobbing openly. A dot of blood sits like a red gem on her full bottom lip.
I jerk off the mask and drop it at the ground, gathering her into my arms. “It's okay, babe. I'm here.”
“You weren't—” She sucks in a sob and chokes. “Supposed to show your face.”
“Didn't.” My face feels like it's splitting from the grin.
She pulls away, laughing despite herself, then her expression crumples as fast as the laughter came on. “He's won. Drake can see Charlie.” Her voice is a bare thread of sound that tugs me in places I didn't know I had.
Standing water makes her eyes bright. Her dark eyes sparkle with grief.
I can't tell her. It's against club policy. “We'll get through this, Rose.” Really, the solution is so simple, I shouldn't have to talk about it.
Diablo will die, then there won't be any visitation.
Rose won't be an accessory to murder in case things get saucy. My skill with knots won't go unnoticed by the cops if his body is found.
Might have to get creative with corpse hide-and-seek.
Rose has assumed this entire time that it’s been about the kid—Diablo's vendetta with Rose has been about getting his property back.
I think he's become obsessed with Rose, like he was with her sister. It's getting deeper than just wanting his property.
Diablo wants Rose. And he's not getting her.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and suck her into me, guiding her away from the front steps, out of the open.
My eyes dance everywhere at once. Lariat, Snare, and Trainer are parked across the street. My gaze slides to the right.
Chaos Riders half a block down. Road Kill makes its way to Chaos. The bikes sit; the men are all in each other's faces. Shit's going down.
“Stay here, Rose.”
She clutches my sleeve. “Don't, Noose. Don't give him what he wants. He'd love for you to get in trouble and be behind bars.”
Get in trouble.
I grin, noticing the shiny red mask is still sitting on the ground a ways off. “No worries, Rose. I won't leave you unprotected. I'm rash as fuck, but my brain works okay.”
She slowly nods. But not as though she believes me.
I turn and make my way toward Chaos and Road Kill.
Seems like I can't have one without the other.
*
I glance right before I get to the tight circle of posturing men and see Rose huddled beside her mom. Her dad is still MIA.
Can't blame the guy. Seeing his daughter's murderer get custody rights to his only grandchild has to blow. I’m not in a position to offer reassurances.
“Don't worry, Mr. Christo. I'm going to assassinate his ass” probably wouldn't bring him any comfort. It would land me in jail. Then who would have Rose's back? Nope. Gotta play it fucking cool when all I ever run is hot. Going completely against my nature. Necessary.
I turn back around, confident that Chaos won't steal Rose in broad daylight.
One of the Chaos riders has a taped nose.
Nice. I'd know one of my knot love taps anywhere. I give him a grin and the bird. He flips me off, swaggering to where I stand, my fists clenched.
“Fucking prick,” he seethes.
I just see an image of his cock above Rose's mouth, her wrists bound behind her head.
I breathe through my rage, trying for Zen and missing that shit by a mile.
Leaning against a streetlamp, I cross my legs at the ankle. “Feeling froggy? Jump on my lily pad, dickwad.”
He blinks. Dumb fucker. “I bet you're not so tough without your string, pussy.”
My hands are considered
lethal weapons. I could go to jail if I give somebody a beat down. Same thing with guns.
Or knives.
I don't say that shit. Believing it is more important. Knowledge is confidence. And that's enough.
There is no acting when you're a killer. There's only doing.
Wring gives me a perceptive glance. Not quite a wink, the gesture says to let the fucker run his yap.
Why not? He's already had a taste of my knot—there's more where that came from if he's feeling like going.
I always feel like going.
Old Broken Nose gets a sense of the potential and doesn't exactly back down, but he stays just out of reach, sneering aggressively. His attitude bores me.
Diablo walks slowly to where we're squared off. He points at me. “Consider yourself marked, fucker.”
I uncross my feet, straightening.
“Noose.” Wring doesn't have to warn me. I feel myself sliding into that silent space in my brain where I go when I need to kill.
I plant my feet wide, keeping my arms loose and ready. “Rose is mine. She's my property. What's hers is mine.” I state it, capturing Charlie in the net of ownership without blinking an eyelash. There's no room for negotiation or opinions. I'm staking my claim. To Rose. To her nephew. They're under my protection.
Murmurs break out like a symphony of static.
“The fuck?” Diablo jerks his chin back, shaking his head. “That cunt was always mine. She just didn't know it. She's even sweeter than her sister.” He shoves his finger into his mouth, giving it a suck to the knuckle. He slides it back and forth.
“He's trying to juice ya, Noose. Fuck him.” Snare glares at Diablo.
Drake's plan to irritate me is working. The problem? He's not bluffing. His finger has been in Rose's pussy—without her permission, while she was tied down and helpless to stop him.
I owe him death just for that.
I stride toward him, and he meets me halfway. Loud arguing voices around us melt away until it's just the man in front of me. His mud-colored eyes gaze into mine with flat malice.
“I didn't have to rape Rose to fuck her.” Nuts and bolts, fucker. Choke on that.
Diablo's eyes widen. I watch him struggle to control his temper. I won't brag about Rose like a conquest. She isn't something to be won.
Rose is the woman I love. And this fucker will not threaten her again. With harm. With rape. With the slow disembowelment of her family.
He's been put on notice. If he goes after Rose now, he's coming after another man's property—a man who's already had her and knows forever wouldn't be long enough.
Diablo gets over the top of his rage like a marathon runner conquering his last hill. His eyes move behind my shoulder.
I know he's sighting in on Rose. I watch his will build in front of me piece by piece.
Not touching Diablo while he stares his intent at Rose is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
Not killing him on the spot takes the lead.
*
Without another word, Diablo turns on his heel and leaves. Chaos follows at his back.
Thrumming unspent energy has its fucking way with me. My need to eviscerate that fucker is so strong, my vision actually narrows at the edges. Dead gray light swims at its periphery.
“Noose.” Snare's voice is at my elbow.
I turn like I'm in slo-mo. “Yeah.”
“Let's get the fuck outta here. Regroup.”
I nod.
But first, I move over to where Rose and her mom are. Their eyes are big.
Her mom's stare condemns me.
“Who is this man, Rose?” Her nose wrinkles.
No “hi, how ya doinʼ”? It's automatic dislike. On the surface, I probably look a helluva lot like Diablo to her.
Not how I wanted the first intros made. “I'm Noose,” I say, holding out my hand.
Her eyes wide, Rose's mom looks at my hand like I just offered her a snake.
“Mom, this is Sean King.”
Rose's mom stares.
I drop my hand to my side, flexing my fingers once.
Rose sweeps her palm toward her mom, a much older version of Rose.
What—were they ninety when they had kids?
“Noose, this is my mom, Norah.”
“Good to meet you, maʼam.” Again, training. The military didn't just teach me to be a killer—there were manners tucked in there too.
Norah wakes up from a stupor. “Hello… Sean? Or is it Noose?” she asks, giving me cool, polite eyes.
I look around, feeling helpless. The guys split once the Chaos Riders took off.
I would much rather face them than the probing stare of Norah Christo.
“Noose is my road name. I'm with Road Kill MC.” I jerk a thumb toward my bike then slip a finger underneath my cut, showing the patch of Road Kill to its best advantage.
“Are you interested in my daughter, Mr. King?”
And off come the kid gloves. Fuck, that was fast. “Yeah.” I don't fuck around with fancy, drawn-out replies. My one-syllable language speaks for me just fine. Rose's stuck-up mom will have to deal.
I'm a better protector for her than anyone on the planet. And Rose needs protecting.
She dismisses me entirely, turning to face Rose, seeming to gather herself. “If you do this, you have no parents. Do you understand? Your father and I cannot live through another Anna.”
Rose swallows, looking from me to Norah.
Finally, she nods. “I know, Mom.” Tears roll from her eyes.
Ultimatums are fuckers. I think less of her mom for making one.
They stand frozen as they stare at each other. Norah kills Rose slowly with her eyes.
I stay where I am. I don't force people. It's not my way.
Rose stretches out her hand in my direction like a lifeline.
I thread my fingers through hers. I don't even think about it; it’s as automatic as taking my next breath.
Her mother's eyes move to our joined hands, and without a word, she walks away.
I pull Rose against me as she cries.
No woman's ever made me give my trust before.
Until now.
I would die for Rose Christo.
10
Rose
My parents won't speak to me. I feel abandoned. Drake gets Charlie this weekend for court-ordered visitation.
Overnight.
Charlie's never spent a night away from me except for at Mom and Dad's.
Noose has been great.
Like now.
I wrap my arms around him. I haven't stopped crying since I found out. I can't fix this.
Noose can't fix this.
Drake wins. He gets Anna's boy, and I've betrayed her by not keeping him safe. I couldn't even do that.
The bike eats the black ribbon of road. I swear we're going too fast around every curve. The heat and solidness of the bike is negated with the wind that pulls at my vulnerable sides. The smells and flavors of the early autumn air fill my nose with life.
I can barely hang on. I don't deserve this.
Deserve Noose.
Deserve anything.
I dropped Charlie off at Mom and Dad's, and they silently took him inside. Neither spoke to me.
Their eyes were on Noose sitting languidly on his bike. I left my car at their house and took off with him.
I assume we're going to the club, but we pass the large building tucked into many commercial warehouses just like it.
Moving toward downtown Kent, we roll past the organic market and gas stations that've changed hands so much, they're just signs and pumps.
At Kent Station, Noose slows.
We arrive at a ten story, ultra-modern concrete building. I look up. Nondescript. The sign says Top Shelf in cool rolling neon script like ice washed by glacial blue.
Noose puts his hand over my cold fingers for a moment then roots around in a bag attached to his handlebars. The chrome emblem HD glows softly in the streetlamps.
> Tomorrow is Columbus Day, and I don't have to work. No facing Ned, receiving pity from Naomi, or taking Charlie to school.
I've taken my brain, dusted it off, and set it on a shelf inside my mind. I need to feel and shut off that part of me that thinks.
Noose said he would help me.
He presses a button on a rectangular box, and an underground parking garage door lifts. The low rumble of his bike grows louder as he glides below the ground.
LED lights softly glow above our heads as we cruise past cars and bikes.
He finds his stall and rolls into the slot.
Noose shuts off the bike and kicks the stand out with his heel. Swinging off, he holds his hand out, and I take off the helmet. I felt claustrophobic the first couple times I wore it. Now I would feel naked without it.
I hand Noose the helmet, and he walks to a row of cages with cyclone fencing. Pulling a keyring from his pocket, he flicks out a tiny key then inserts it in a padlock. He walks inside, and I dismount, hopping as I land.
I follow him into a walk-in locker-type storage thing. Handmade shelves line the back and sides of the small space. Motorcycle parts, oil, the delicious WD-40 I always smell on him, and a bunch of miscellaneous tools decorate the shelves. There are also gloves, hoodies, and other outdoor stuff.
“Handy.”
Noose whips around at the sound of my voice, and suddenly, I'm in his arms and turned in one motion. He presses me up against the back of the cage, and I hit the pegboard full of tools.
Noose's hand braces my impact, and tools clatter to the ground like metal rain.
“What?” I ask, but his mouth is on mine. Tasting. Teasing. Killing me with his brutal insistence.
I want to cry. I want to beat my fists at the unseen enemy of fate for first taking my sister, then my nephew.
But Noose is real. He is here. Where destiny takes, it gives back.
He easily lifts me by my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“This okay, Rose? Because I have to… I have to—” He slams his mouth on mine.
“Yes,” I manage breathlessly.
We haven't even gotten to his condo yet, and all I can think about is his erection pressing into my stomach and his strong hands cradling my ass, widening the cradle of my hips to accept him.
