by Parker, Ali
I could still remember the night Max died like it happened yesterday. I’d been at my apartment folding laundry. It was nine o’clock at night on a Sunday. I had to work the next day, so I’d gone about my normal routine of making my lunch and getting ready for the week.
I’d just changed into my pajamas when someone knocked on my door.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. I was pleasantly surprised to find Rhys standing there. He was looking down at his feet. I couldn’t see his face.
“Hello, handsome,” I said softly as I reached out to him.
Then I noticed the blood on his shirt. In his hair. On his hands.
I frantically rolled up the hem of his shirt to inspect his stomach for an injury. I found nothing—nothing besides muscle and tanned skin. I rolled it up farther to make sure there were no wounds on his chest.
“It’s not mine,” he said. His voice was hoarse. He barely sounded like himself.
“What happened?” I whispered.
And then he looked up at me, and I could see that he was barely keeping it together. His eyes were glassy but hard, like he was willing himself to stay in one piece. His jaw was clenched, and the muscle flexed repeatedly. He swallowed and looked down again.
“Rhys. Please. Talk to me.”
He shook his head once.
Nausea washed over me, and I grabbed at the doorframe to keep my balance. Rhys caught me as my knees buckled. I didn’t care that he was covered in blood. I let him hold me up, and I clung to him as he clung to me. The room continued to spin as my brain started to put the pieces together.
I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck and gathered the back of his shirt up in my fists. It was hard to breathe. “Where’s Max?”
He shook his head. He shook his head, and I knew the answer right away.
“No,” I said.
He held me tighter, so tightly that his fingers pressed into my ribs. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I released his shirt as sobs overtook me. He gathered me up in his arms and let me cry as he brought me to the couch in my living room. He sat down, with me still in his arms, and I curled up against his chest.
Rhys rubbed my back in slow circular motions. I sucked in great heaving breaths and tried to calm myself down enough to get answers. I needed to know what had happened. All this blood… Max hadn’t died peacefully. Someone had stolen him from me. From us.
“What happened?” I finally managed to ask.
Rhys’s hand fell still on my back. I leaned away and peered up into his face. His brow was furrowed. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.
I reached out and held his face in my hands. “You have to tell me. I need to know.”
He closed his eyes. “You’ll never forgive me.”
“You need my help?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nodded. “Yeah. Well, not just me. Nancy too.”
“Nancy Vickers?” Aiden piped up.
I nodded. “She got in too deep with this guy—”
“Same old shit she’s always been doing,” Aiden grumbled.
I glared at him to shut him up. “That’s not the point. The point is she was seeing this guy, and things took a bad turn. I had to go pick her up the other night to get him away from her, and the next day, he showed up at my apartment and tried to drag her out of there. He might have succeeded if I hadn’t—” I stopped talking when I remembered who I was speaking to.
“If you hadn’t what?” Rhys asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Never mind.”
His eyes roamed all over me. Then they stopped when he glanced upon my hip. I looked down. My tee was just short enough to show a thin line of skin between my shirt and the top of my jeans. He was looking at the purple bruise on my hip from where Kyle had punched me.
I looked up sharply and tried to take a step back as I clapped one hand over my hip.
Rhys caught me by the elbow and pulled me close. He lifted the hem of my shirt and pushed my hand away. Then he saw the bruise in all its glory. It was dark purple at the center and faded to a puke-yellow color at the edges.
“Did he do this to you?” Rhys asked. His gaze slowly lifted from my hip to my eyes. “This guy of Nancy’s?”
I swallowed. “Yes. But only because I intervened. It would have been Nancy who took the brunt of it if I let him get to her.”
“You’re a psychopath, cuz,” Aiden said, whistling. “You know that? Not many chicks would take on a dude who was willing to hit a woman. Who the fuck is this guy?”
“Kyle something or other. I don’t know his last name. He’s a piece of work.”
Rhys was looking at my hip again. “Did you land a hit of your own?”
He knew me so well. I grinned. “You bet your ass I did. Two, for the record.” I held up two fingers.
Aiden shook his head at me. “I’m telling you. Psychopath.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
Rhys pulled his beanie off and raked his fingers through his thick brown hair. I wanted to do the same thing. I wanted to ride him and sink my fingers in those locks and feel him—
“I’ll come to Chicago,” Rhys said.
“Just like that? It’s that easy?”
He nodded. “It’s that easy. I just have to talk to Ryder first and make sure he’s good with me stepping away for a couple days. I’m sure it won’t be a problem, but I don’t want to go MIA on him.”
“Who’s Ryder?” I asked.
Rhys opened his mouth to answer, but Aiden beat him to the punch. “He’s the president of the Lost Breed MC here in New York. Our president.”
I glanced at Rhys. He had a president? He wasn’t running his own crew? “Are all four of you with him?”
Rhys nodded. “Yeah. We were initiated six months ago.”
“That didn’t take long,” I said. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I hadn’t meant for them to cut him, but I could see that they did.
Rhys looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well. Some shit went down here shortly after we showed up. Derek was caught up in a situation with Isaac Reed.”
I blinked. “Isaac Reed? Did you know he’d come to New York?” I was thinking several things at once. Firstly, I was realizing that Rhys hadn’t necessarily left Chicago to get away from me. Maybe he had left to track down Isaac. Secondly, he’d potentially gone after my brother’s killer without telling me. And thirdly, how the hell had he not told me about this sooner?
“Yeah, I knew he was here,” Rhys said.
Aiden looked back and forth between us. “Uh, I’m gonna go take my shot. You kids catch up.” And then he was gone.
I stared at Rhys. “You came here for him?”
“I came here to warn Derek about how dangerous he was and the damage he could do. Derek is an old friend. I couldn’t let him lose his crew the way I lost mine. Not when I knew there was something I could do to help.”
“And did you?” I asked sharply.
“Did I what?”
“Did you help?” I asked.
Rhys licked his lips and put his beanie back on. “If you’d consider putting a bullet between Reed’s eyes helping, then yeah, I helped.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s dead?”
Rhys nodded.
“And you—” I broke off and lowered my voice. Then I leaned in close so I could whisper and not be overheard. “And you killed him? When? How?”
Rhys shrugged one shoulder. “Six months ago. The details don’t really matter. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time, and someone put a gun in my hand. And I took the shot. I didn’t even hesitate.”
“Rhys,” I whispered. I knew him better than anyone. He was no killer. Even when shit had gotten really hard for him back in Chicago, he’d stood by his morals, and he’d never killed anybody. Beat them up pretty bad? Sure. But never killed them.
He reached out and gently took my elbow. “Don’t worry. It’s no
t a burden. I’d do it again if I had the chance. Someone needed to make him atone for what he did, and I’m glad it was me. For Max.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “I can’t think of a better excuse to have a drink, can you?”
Rhys smiled a little. “No.”
“Buy me a beer for old time’s sake? I’ll tell you everything I know about Kyle.”
“All right,” he said, and then he followed me up to the bar, and we both took a seat. He ordered us two beers, and as we sat and drank them, he asked, “So where are you and Nancy staying?”
I chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Chapter 7
Rhys
Quinn tipped her bottle of beer back and took her first long slow sip. I watched, transfixed by the way her lips pressed to the bottle, and even more in awe of the little bead of condensation that trickled from the base of the bottle all the way up to cling to her lower lip. When she put the bottle down, she wiped it away with her thumb, dragged her now wet fingertip down her thigh, and looked over at me with a crooked smile. “Quit staring. You’ll make a girl blush.”
I averted my eyes to my own beer. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”
“Yeah.”
Quinn was as much of a knockout as she used to be—maybe even more so with this new edgy way of dressing. Max would have lost his mind if he saw her looking like this. And riding a motorcycle? I was sure he was rolling over in his grave right this minute.
“So, you ride now, huh?” I asked.
Quinn nodded. “Yep. A Triumph”
She was going to make me press her for more answers. She’d always been like that. A bit mysterious, not super forthcoming, and very private. We both knew it was her defense mechanism. If she didn’t let anybody in, there was no risk of her getting hurt. But she’d let me in. I guessed, in the end, she got hurt anyway when I bailed.
“I hope you don’t ride like your brother,” I said.
Quinn surprised me with a wide grin. “I ride better than him.”
“Those are big words. Max could match me in a race, you know?”
“I know,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “I see you’re just as humble as ever.”
“The same could be said for you.”
“Touché.”
Quinn crossed her arms and rested them on the bar. “So, how do you like it here? What’s this new MC like? What did you say they called themselves?”
“The Lost Breed,” I said.
“And your president?”
“Is a good guy. Well, good enough. He took me in when he didn’t have to. He took all of us in.” I took another long swig of beer.
Quinn nodded slowly. “Must be nice to have someone let you join them.”
She was taking a dig at me. I winced. “Quinn, you know I couldn’t—”
She held up her hand. “Yeah, I know.”
After Max died, Quinn had hardened into a woman who wanted vengeance. I couldn’t blame her. I wanted the same thing. But it was more complicated than that. I blamed Isaac Reed for killing Max, but had it not been for me, Max would have never gotten caught in the crosshairs. He’d still be alive, and Quinn would still have her brother.
About two weeks after he died, Quinn came to me and told me she wanted in. At the time, I hadn’t understood that she was asking to be a Red Rogue. She wanted the initiation, to wear our colors, and to ride with us. She knew the responsibility that would be on her shoulders, and she was more than aware of the risks, dangers, and costs. She didn’t care. She was all in.
And I told her no.
Max would have never forgiven me if I brought his sister into the fold. He’d spent the last couple of years of his life trying to keep her as far away from it as possible. Of course, I was undoing half the work he put into his cause by sleeping with her and falling in love with her, but he never knew any of that. He only thought she wanted in because she wanted to be by his side.
He had no idea she wanted to ride alongside both of us.
I sighed and ordered us both a shot of tequila and another round of beers. Quinn gave me a sad smile as a thank you when the shots arrived, and we both took them the way we used to back in Chicago when we used to go to bars together: no lime, no salt. Just the liquor and a beer chaser.
Quinn licked her lips. “The others are good? Aiden seems happy.”
“They’re good. They’ve gotten settled here. The clean slate has been good for all of us, I think.”
“Liam said the same thing.”
“You’ve been in touch with Liam?” I asked.
Quinn nodded. “He’s how I tracked you down. I called him the other night and told him I needed to find you. He gave me this address and told me you’d be here tonight.”
“Little fucker,” I growled.
“He was just helping me.”
“I know. But he could have at least given me a heads-up you were coming. Then I wouldn’t have—”
“Been caught standing there with your mouth open when you saw me?” Quinn asked. That devilish smile of hers emerged. It was the same one she used to give me before stripping naked and going to her knees in front of me.
It made my cock twitch, and I shifted on my bar stool. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Quinn giggled, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that sound until it graced my ears. “Don’t worry. I thought it was cute.”
“Cute isn’t what I was going for,” I said a little sourly.
Quinn drew her ponytail over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it. “I like that I can still make you look at me like that,” she whispered.
Good lord. Was she trying to give me blue balls on purpose? I needed to change the subject before I carried her out of here and found a place to lay her down and fuck her right. I went with the obvious. Nancy. “So, this guy that came after Nancy. What else do you know about him?”
Quinn shrugged. “Not much unfortunately. I’ve met him a couple times. He’d come into the parlor to pick her up after work or sometimes bring her lunch. Like all things that end bad, it started really good for the two of them. Nancy fell for this guy. That’s why it pisses me off so much. He drew her in, made her care, and then showed her who he really was. A manipulative, abusive, drunken bastard.”
“Is this the first time he’s been violent with her?”
“I don’t know. Nancy never told me it had gotten this bad. I mean, based on my impression of the guy, I wasn’t surprised, but as far as I know, this is the first time he lost his cool. Maybe he’s been rough with her but never struck her.”
“Instead, he struck you.”
Quinn slapped her right fist into her left palm. “Only after I got him.”
I shook my head at her. “You’re going to get yourself in over your head.”
“Nothing I haven’t done before.”
“Are you willing to tell me where you and Nancy are staying?”
Quinn chewed the inside of her cheek and considered my question. “Another shot. Then I’ll tell you.”
I waved down the bartender, and within two minutes, we had two more tequila shots sitting before us on the bar. They had been filled to the brim and were leaving little puddles on the wooden surface. We picked up the shot glasses, spilled tequila over our fingers, and tossed them back.
Quinn licked her fingers clean, which drove me completely insane as I watched her and tried to keep myself from getting a raging hard on right then and there. Then she licked her lips. “We’re staying at that little motel down the road. With the blue neon light and the cute little cafe attached to the lobby.”
“I know the one. Do you think Nancy’s okay there by herself?”
“Sure. She was picking a movie on the on-demand channels when I left and had grand plans of spoiling herself with room service. I fully expect there to be a shit ton of dishes on my bed when I get back there.”
I smiled. “You’re a good woman, Quinn. Nancy is lucky to have you as a friend.
”
Quinn’s expression was unreadable. “I’m lucky to have her, too. She’s the only one— She stopped talking and shook her head.
I knew what she was going to say. Nancy was the only one who hadn’t left Quinn in Chicago. She’d lost her brother, her cousin, and me all within a two-month period. She and Max’s parents died in a car crash when Quinn was only sixteen. Max had stepped in to take care of her. To make sure she had everything she needed and keep her in school. Mostly, he kept her on the straight and narrow. She had the same nature as him: a craving for adventure and excitement. But Max wanted better for her than the MC life. He wanted her to go to college, to earn scholarships, and choose a path she would be proud of when she was older.
And then he died.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Quinn, I’m—”
“Sorry. I know.”
I drank the rest of my three-quarters full beer. “Yeah. Fuck.”
She reached out and put her hand over mine. “It’s okay, Rhys. I understand.” She ran her thumb over my knuckles. The heat of her skin on mine was almost unbearable, even though it was just her hand. Our bodies were still separated by almost a foot of space.
I swallowed. “Do you have to get back to Nancy tonight?”
Quinn’s thumb fell still. She looked up at me. Her golden-flaked hazel eyes burned with something that matched the fire in my belly. “Come on, Rhys. You know me better than that. I don’t have to do anything.”
“Call her,” I said.
Quinn giggled. I slid off my stool and put my hand on her hip. I hooked a thumb in her belt loop and used it to spin her around so her back was to the bar, a neat trick if the top of the stool is on a swivel. She leaned back and rested her elbows on the bar behind her. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“You bet your ass I am,” I said. “Call her. Tell her you’ll see her in the morning.”
“And your boys?” she asked, tipping her chin to where Liam, Owen, and Aiden were still crowded around the pool table.
“Fuck ‘em.”
