Knights Rising (Rumblin' Knights Book 1)

by Bella Jewel

“Nice to meet you Shania, what are you doing in a place like this?”

  “I’m just leaving, I work here.”

  His brows go up. I’m guessing he didn’t see my dance. “Oh, that’s great. Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay.”

  “You look like you could use a drink, will you join me for one?”

  I don’t dare tell him I’m underage. Because, I could really use a drink, even though the bar staff all know who I am.

  “I’m not ... I’m not sure,” I tell him, because I could get into a lot of trouble.

  “I promise it’s just a drink, I’m not going to proposition you for anything more.”

  I bite my lip, and then nod. “Sure, but can we sit over there?”

  I point to a booth that isn’t directly in the line of sight. If I’m caught drinking, I’ll probably lose my job. But I’m sure I can sneak one in.

  “Okay, I’ll meet you over there. What will you have?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Surprise me.”

  Then I move through the crowd, all men, and sit at the booth. I feel uncomfortable, I can see all their eyes on me. So many of them wanting to come over and say something, but all of them knowing full well the rules of the club say that you do not engage the strippers or you’ll be kicked out. So none of them actually come over, thank god.

  Jack brings two drinks back, something mixed with cola, I don’t really care what. He sits down and slides one toward me. I take it and sip it, probably a little too fast. I want the ache in my belly to go away. The mental imagine of Nicolai and Yana. God damn. It hurts. And I hate that it hurts, because we’re not even a thing. I don’t know what we are. But I did honestly think there was something there, that he actually liked me.

  I gave him my virginity.

  Clearly that meant nothing to him.

  “You don’t look too happy tonight, Shania?” Jack says.

  I exhale. “No, you could say that, I guess. I just found out the man I ... have been with ... was with another woman.”

  Jack’s face tightens, and he frowns, “I’m really sorry to hear that. That’s awful.”

  I nod. “Yeah, it didn’t feel nice. I actually ... saw them together.”

  Jack looks even more pissed now. “What a jackass.”

  I laugh softly. “Yeah, that he is.”

  “Tell me something about yourself, Shania, anything. I’m intrigued.”

  I shrug. “There isn’t much to tell. This is my job. I live with my sister. I’m just a normal girl trying to get ahead in life.”

  “You just don’t seem like you fit this kind of place. You’re genuine. Real. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Sometimes you do what you have to do to get ahead, I was struggling, I didn’t have a great deal of choices.”

  “Parents?”

  “My dad is dead, my mom ... took everything and refused to help us out. She’s selfish, to say the very least.”

  Jack takes a sip of his drink, no doubt to cover his disgust at my mother. “I’m sorry, that isn’t how a mother should behave.”

  “What about you, Jack?” I say, changing the subject. “What brings you here?”

  “Bachelor party,” he nods to a group of men, all at the stage, watching Amy dance. “I’m not much into these places, no offense or anything, but they’re just not for me.”

  “I respect that.”

  “Shania.”

  The low whip of Nicolai’s voice has my head turning in the direction it came from. He’s striding toward our booth and stops when he reaches it, his eyes pinning Jack like he’s going to tear him apart for simply breathing.

  “Nicolai, can I help you?” I ask, my voice sugary sweet.

  “You can tell me what you’re doin’ here.”

  “Last time I checked, what I did after I knocked off was up to me. I met Jack here, and we were talking.”

  His eyes zone in on the drink I’ve got. “And you’re drinking.”

  “Cola,” I point out. “Would you like to sip it and see?”

  It’s a big risk, because if he does, he’ll know I’m lying. But, I figured it was worth the gamble.

  “No. Get up. We need to talk.”

  I grit my teeth. He doesn’t get to come down here and boss me around after what I just saw. I’m a dancer, just like any of the other girls, and he certainly wouldn’t do this to them. They often come and spend time down here.

  “I’m busy, I’ve finished for the night, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I come in for my shift.”

  “You don’t get up now, you won’t have a shift to come in to.”

  I gape at him. “Seriously? I’m not doing anything wrong, Nicolai.”

  “I think I should leave,” Jack says, standing.

  “No,” I say, at the same time Nicolai says, “Good idea.”

  Jack gives me a sympathetic smile, and then walks out, leaving me with Nicolai. I stand, furious. “You want to fire me, Nicolai. Fine. I swear to god, I don’t fucking care.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it. That left the door to my office open. I should have known, with the tantrum you’re currently throwing.”

  I gasp, horrified. How dare he speak to me like this.

  “You know what?” I laugh, but it’s bitter, and angry, and broken. “I gave you something you didn’t deserve to have. I actually thought you were a good person, a decent human being, but you’re nothing but scum, like the rest of them. You took something from me that was important, the very least, god, the very least you could have done was let me believe for a fucking little bit longer that it actually meant something.”

  With that, I turn on my heel and walk out.

  Screw Nicolai.

  And screw his damned job.

  ~14~

  NOW – LINCOLN

  “Found where Yana lives,” Finn says, walking into my office at the club and dropping a piece of paper in front of me. Damon walks in after him, followed by Slater.

  Slater is on to fight tonight, so we’re all here.

  I need to pull some more money in. Been too focused on Shania and everything else going on that I haven’t been focused on the club. Need to bring in some new meat, some new fighters, something to get them excited again. The garage is doing well, but I need this, too. Not just for the cash, but for my sanity.

  “How’d you find her address? Malakai was havin’ trouble locating it,” I ask him, looking down at the piece of paper he has dropped. It has an address.

  “Take a wild guess?”

  I shake my head, giving him a look. “Not really in the guessin’ mood,” I mutter.

  “She’s livin’ with your boy Nicolai. That’s why it was so hard to find her address. Followed her home. Got a glimpse of him. Got a kid. Livin’ town over from this. An hour’s drive, if that. Who knew findin’ her would lead us to him.”

  That close, this whole fucking time.

  Poor Shania.

  And even worse that she’s living with Nicolai still, because that means he probably knows where Shania is, knows about the fucker we found in her house, and has probably been watching us the whole fucking time. I mean, that piece of shit knew where Shania lived, knew how to get in, and also knew where my club was. Which means he had been watching for some time, that or someone had told him.

  “Guess it’s time we tell Shania, then,” Damon says, rubbing his chin. “I’m sure she’ll be happy.”

  “No,” I mutter, putting the paper in my pocket.

  Slater narrows his eyes. “What do you mean fuckin’ no? She specifically asked us to find him, and that’s it.”

  “You saw what happened the other night in her apartment, Slater. She got attacked. I don’t trust that asshole, and I’m not just goin’ to let her go in blind.”

  “Then you keep watch when she goes to see him, but you can’t keep this from her,” he growls.

  “It ain’t your call this time, brother. It’s mine. I’m goin’ first.”

  “You could fuck the wh
ole thing up for her, you don’t even know the full story,” Finn argues now, too.

  “I’m the fuckin’ boss here,” I snarl at them. “Do you fuckin’ understand?”

  “Yeah, and where the fuck has that gotten us in life?” Slater grinds out, stepping up to me. He’s big now, but I won’t step down to my little brother, even if he could probably take me.

  “Past is in the past,” I growl.

  “Yeah, and your decisions haven’t always led us down the right path. You want me to step back, let you go chargin’ in, possibly ruinin’ this for Shania. She asked for our help. We did what she asked. It’s up to her what she does now.” Slater holds my eyes, challenging me.

  “That’s enough, you two,” Damon sighs, stepping between us and pushing us apart. “We’re not goin’ to go toe to toe for the rest of our lives. Lincoln, Slater is right. This is Shania’s call. Understand you’re tryin’ to protect her, but you don’t get to keep this from her. She has a right to know, and if you don’t tell her, I will.”

  I turn and glare at my brother. “Be careful, Damon. I’m not in the mood.”

  He steps closer now, too. Damon has always stood back, always been the calm one, the funny one, the one who has been able to keep situations calm. Now he’s stepping up to me, nose to nose, and I actually think he’d have a go. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s about time my little brother found his balls.

  “Or what? I’m so fuckin’ sick of this family. The fightin’. The arguin’. The failure to agree. This club is goin’ to shit because nobody can agree with what goes on down here. Our lives are goin’ to fall the fuck apart if we don’t get our shit together. You’re the rock, Lincoln. Stoppin’ us all. Blockin’ our way. You are hangin’ on so tightly you can’t let go. We’re grown us men, and unless you want to lose us, I suggest you start fuckin’ lettin’ us have a say, too.”

  That hurts coming from him.

  Fought my whole fucking life for my brothers. Sure, I fucked up, more than once, but I’ve always fought for them. Worked for them. Put my life aside ... for them.

  Everything, for them.

  “Everythin’ I’ve done, Damon,” I grind out, “has fuckin’ been for you. Do you understand me? For you, for Finn, for Slater. If you think I’m hard, it’s because I have to be. Now, back the fuck off.”

  Damon grinds his jaw, but snips out, “No. You tell her, or I will.”

  I step closer, curling my hand in his shirt and jerking him so we’re practically nose to nose. “You tell her, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  “Go on, Lincoln, fight me. I don’t care. It won’t stop me doin’ the damned right thing, which is what you should have done.”

  “Enough,” Slater growls, taking hold of Damon and pulling him backward and out of my grip.

  Finn just stares at us, and then says, “You know, sometimes I’m ashamed to call myself a Knight.”

  And with that, he turns and walks out.

  Fuck.

  “Tell her, or we do,” Damon growls, following Finn out.

  I look to Slater. “Did I fuck up so badly that you all hate me so damned much?”

  His eyes meet mine. “No, but you know what, Lincoln. You know, in all of this, we understand that you did what you had to do, that you fought for what you thought was right, that you kept us afloat. But when you did fuck up, you never once came to me, looked me in the eye, and told me how fuckin’ sorry you were.”

  “I’ve said sorry,” I growl.

  “Not the way you should have. You hold your cards so damned close to your chest. You don’t let anyone in. Keep it up, and you’ll die alone, and very fuckin’ broken.”

  With that, he walks out, too.

  Fuck.

  Pent-up rage eats away at me, and my hands shake. They’re right, I know they’re right, but I’ve had to live with the guilt of the mistakes I’ve made for my whole fucking life, too. They think it doesn’t matter to me, but they’re wrong. They’re all that has ever mattered to me. They’re the only things I’ve ever worried about.

  And I fucked it up.

  I turn and walk out of the office, locking it. I move to the locker room and straight over to where Slater is getting ready for his fight. “Step down, Slater. I’m fightin’ tonight.”

  He turns and looks at me. “You never fuckin’ fight.”

  “Tonight, I start.”

  With that, I get ready to fight. Because fuck them.

  Fuck them all.

  I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.

  ~*~*~*~

  NOW – LINCOLN

  A hard punch connects with my jaw, swinging my head to the side. I growl as blood spurts across the arena. I turn my head back slowly and glare at the opponent. He’s bouncing around, like he’s some sort of fucking boxer. Baring my teeth, I dodge his next punch. I’ve let him get a few in, let people throw a few bets around, let them think he might be in for a chance.

  He fucking isn’t.

  The anger inside me tonight, it’s out of this world.

  I’m sick of being blamed for everything.

  I’m sick of the guilt.

  I’m sick of letting everyone down with every choice I make.

  They think I’m the bad guy, but I’ve suffered just as much.

  So fuck them.

  Fuck them all.

  I take a few more hits, and they only make me angrier. The crowd screams at me to fight back, they’re yelling abuse, names, and I take it. And when my anger finally explodes, with a punch that nearly knocks me out, I finally take my turn. I spin around, driving my fist into the man’s face, sending him flying backward.

  And then, I fight.

  Oh, do I fucking fight.

  My vision turns an ugly shade of red, and the anger I’ve had built up for so long just explodes out, like fucking vomit. I punch, kick, head-butt, over and over. The crowd is screaming. Someone is yelling my name, but I don’t stop. Because fuck them. They don’t know what I’ve endured for them. So much fucking pain.

  “Lincoln!”

  I keep fighting. Keep beating. Keep punching.

  “Stop!”

  Someone is behind me. I spin around, taking another punch, and it connects with a familiar face. Slater is in the ring. He’s panting, staring at me, blood trickling from his nose. “Stop,” he growls. “Lincoln, stop.”

  “Fuck you, Slater.” I spit blood onto the ground. “Fuck you.”

  “You want to get it out. Take it out on me. Don’t you take it out on another person.”

  I look behind me, at the man on the floor. I blink, once, twice. He’s out cold. Fuck. There is blood all over his face, I did a number on him. I look back to Slater, he’s clenching his fists, legs apart. He wants to fight me.

  “You don’t want to fight me, Slater.”

  “Don’t I?” he growls.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I think I do,” he says, stepping forward just as the other man is dragged away. The crowd goes wild. The idea of Slater and I fighting. Money is getting thrown around, names getting called out. Yeah, they want this.

  I don’t.

  It won’t end well. I have too much pent-up anger, and so does Slater.

  “Slater,” I warn, stepping back.

  The crowd screams.

  “You want to fight, Lincoln. I can see it in your eyes. You’re angry. I’m angry. We’ve both been angry for a long fuckin’ time. You just won’t admit it. I saw what you did to that man; deep down, I know part of you wishes it was me.”

  I grit my teeth. “Back off.”

  “No,” he growls, clenching his fists tighter, getting nose to nose with me. “Because I’m sick and tired of the way you run around here, actin’ like we have to do what you want still. We fuckin’ don’t, Lincoln. We’re grown ass men. And last time we let you lead, you got Ellie taken from me.”

  That’s like a god damned punch to the heart. And he knows it. He knows how much those words hurt. He knows that he’s crushing me with every
passing second when he opens his mouth. But that’s why he’s doing it. He wants me to hurt. He wants me to get angry. And he knows that’s the one thing that’ll sting.

  Because I’ve lived with that guilt for a fucking long time.

  I watched my brother sink, knowing it was my fault.

  “What do you want from me, Slater?” I growl, clenching my bloodied fists. “Do you want me to fuckin’ admit that I am the reason for your pain? Do you want to make me suffer for the rest of my fuckin’ days for that mistake? I know what I did. I fuckin’ know. I live with it. I’m sorry for it.”

  “No. I don’t want that. I want you to face it. The anger. The pain. Get it out and let it go. Because you’re not lettin’ it go. You’re hangin’ on with both hands. You’re tryin’ to control our lives, because you have fuck-all control over yours.”

  “Back off,” I hiss.

  “Fuckin’ make me, Lincoln. I’m not steppin’ out of here, not until this is sorted, one way or another. Now, you can either stand here and we can talk about it. Or you can man the fuck up, and fight me. Like I know you fuckin’ want to. Like you know I want to.”

  “I said,” I snarl, anger bubbling to the surface, “back off.”

  “And I said,” he hisses, getting even closer, “fuckin’ make me.”

  I shove him, hard. The wild anger inside me exploding and rushing out of my body like a fucking rage demon. I make an angry sound in my throat, and then I fight my brother, just like he wants. I raise my fist, and I smash it into his face, hitting his cheek and sending his head swinging to the side. The crowd goes wild. And it only makes me angrier. Damn him for pushing me. Damn him.

  “That the best you’ve got,” he barks when he looks back to me, blood dripping from his chin. “How fuckin’ sad.”

  He swings, and I duck, anticipating it. We circle each other, panting, angry, fists clenched. I swing again, and he too ducks, missing it, and then he swings, catching me off guard. He uppercuts my jaw, sending me stumbling backward with an angry bellow.

  And then it’s on.

  Oh, fuck, is it on.

  I’m so fucking angry I charge at him, slamming my body into his middle, and we explode. Years of pent-up anger, frustration, guilt, sadness—all of it explodes forth as we collide. We hit the floor tangled together with such force the wind is knocked out of me. He’s punching, I’m punching, we’re doing anything we can to make the other one hurt.