Knuckle Down (The Cursed Ravens MC Series Book 2)

by Chantal Fernando

  “I just read the one you wrote on toxic waste being dumped in the river system, and the one where you were doing a fund-raiser to raise money for the homeless,” she says, talking so animatedly that I can’t help but be enthralled. “You do such nice things, Celina. I want to help people, too.”

  “I try,” I say, shrugging. I do a few fund-raisers throughout the year to help different charities. “And we need more people like you who want to help and will go out and do something about it.”

  “Mom says there’s no money in helping people,” Westley says, chewing on her lemon chicken. “But Dad says we don’t have to worry about money because he’s made sure we have enough to be princesses!”

  Their mom says what?

  Jesus, that’s a rough thing to say to your children.

  Going by how tight Knuckles’s jaw is again, I can tell he’s not exactly happy about it either, but he doesn’t say anything except, “That’s right, you don’t need to worry about money. Just do whatever will make you happy.”

  “Find something you’re passionate about,” I add, finally lifting my fork to my lips. “Then it won’t feel like work.”

  “Does it feel like work when you go in?” Willow asks me, and when I think of dealing with Tim and Robert I think yes, but I actually love the rest of what I do in my job. The writing, the interviews, working with photographers, I love all of that. I love seeing my name on my finished work, and I love it when it all comes together. This is my passion, and none of those dickheads are going to take it away from me.

  “No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It doesn’t.”

  She beams while Westley announces, “I think I want to be a dog walker when I grow up.”

  We all share a grin.

  As we finish dinner, I watch them interact and just enjoy being around them.

  Knuckles has raised some really great kids, and I think it speaks wonders about who he is as a man.

  I’d never admit it out loud, but it’s a little sad he’s not going to be able to have any more, but it’s not a deal breaker for me.

  We all clean up, and then Knuckles heads home with the girls, but not before a deep, hungry kiss that leaves me wanting more.

  I’ll have to wait, but lucky, I’m patient.

  20

  “Hey, Dad,” I say into the phone, balancing it on my shoulder. I flip the pancake in the frying pan, multitasking at its finest.

  “Hey, Lina,” he says, the phone line cracking a little. “Just thought I’d call and see how my favorite girl is doing.”

  “I’m fine, Dad, where are you?” I ask him. He works as a salesman and is forever traveling the country, meeting women and staying with them for a short period of time before moving again. He’s never been able to stay in one place long, not even to see his daughter grow up.

  “I’m just at the airport,” he says. “I’m heading over east for work.”

  “You were here and didn’t come and see me?” I ask, pursing my lips. I haven’t seen him in about three months. I’m his only child, so you’d think I’d be higher up the priority list.

  “Sorry, sweet pea, I didn’t have much time, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  And if I wasn’t, what would he do about it?

  Nothing.

  He’d still get on that flight right now; it wouldn’t change a thing.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat, tone a little colder now. “And I spoke to Mom yesterday, she’s fine too.”

  Not that he cares.

  “I have to go, but have a safe flight.”

  “Okay, talk to you soon.”

  “ ’Bye, Dad,” I say, placing my phone facedown on the counter, like that’s going to save me from the fact that my dad has never been what I wanted him to be and never will be. I don’t know why I even bother to answer his calls, really. I finish up with breakfast and then head into work.

  Another day, another dollar.

  Come to the clubhouse, I promise there won’t be arrests made. Unless you want me to pull out my handcuffs.

  Laughing at Knuckles’s message, I jump in my car and drive to the clubhouse. More than anything I want to see how Katie is, and I wonder if I should bring her something but have no idea what she’d want. I see a takeout place near the clubhouse, so I stop there and head inside. I remember the food that Knuckles brought me and how he said it’s a secret where it came from, but the moment I walk inside I know this is the place, by the menu, the familiar takeout bags, and the fact that Ace is standing at the counter waiting for his own food.

  “The secret place has been uncovered,” I say, standing next to him and smirking. “I can’t wait to tell Knuckles that he can’t hold this over me anymore.”

  Ace chuckles and playfully nudges me. “He didn’t tell you where it was? That’s fuckin’ funny.”

  “Yeah, and I thought I’d grab some food for Katie, I didn’t want to go to the clubhouse empty-handed,” I say.

  “I’m getting her and everyone else something. Knuckles told me to get something for you too, so you’re covered,” he explains, amusement filling his gray eyes. “You can go on ahead to the clubhouse, if you like.”

  “I can stay and help you carry the food,” I offer, studying the menu up on the board so I know what to order next time.

  “Aren’t you a gentleman,” he teases, pulling a tray of drinks toward him as it appears on the table.

  “I try.”

  Together, we carry all the food and drinks, and there’s a lot of it, back to his car, and then I follow him to the clubhouse, driving in behind him when the gate opens. The place clearly has high security, and I wonder how the cops got through the gate the night they arrested us, or if someone had left it open. Knuckles and Erin walk out at the sight of our cars, Knuckles opening my door and pulling me into his arms the second I pull my key out of the ignition.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits, peppering kisses all over my face. “You smell so good, good enough to eat.”

  I push against his chest gently. “You can do that later.”

  He nuzzles my neck, kissing me there. “Deal.”

  “Come on, we gotta help carry the food,” I tell him. “You know, from the secret place down the road where I bumped into Ace.”

  He laughs. “Kitty, now that you’re mine and I don’t need to bribe you with food, you can be in on all the secret-food places.”

  “How many are there?” I ask, perking up. “Can we do a secret-food-spot crawl one day?”

  Erin steps between us and smiles from one of our faces to the other. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple.”

  “Nice to finally run into you here,” I tell her, eyes dancing with humor.

  “If I’m here it means nothing will happen tonight,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, let’s go eat—I’m starving.”

  We carry everything inside and place it on the kitchen table. Knuckles and I grab what’s ours and go sit outside. Erin puts some music on and brings out some wine and beers.

  “Is this turning into a weeknight party?” I ask her, eating some of my fries.

  “It’s a party here every night,” she replies with a cheeky smile. “You want me to pour you a glass?”

  “Yes, please, but just one. I have to drive home and get up for work in the morning.”

  Katie comes out, and she looks better than the last time I saw her, but I can tell she’s not well. Her face is pale and a little clammy, but there are no tears or fear in her eyes this time. I can tell she remembers me, because she comes and sits down next to me.

  “Hello,” she says, forcing a smile. “Celina, right?”

  I nod. “How are you, Katie?”

  “Getting better,” she replies, ducking her head. “I just wanted to say thank you for trying to look out for me that night. I was a total stranger, so you didn’t have to care, but thank you for doing so.”

  “Anyone would have,” I tell her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

 
A sober look morphs her expression. “I don’t know what world you come from, but in mine, no one would have.”

  That hits me right in the chest. Just what has this girl gone through?

  “Well, I’m just a phone call away if you ever need me, and I mean that,” I tell her, touching her arm. “You’re safe here, you don’t need to worry about anyone hurting you.”

  “Except the police,” she jokes, running her hand over her stomach.

  “At least we’re starting to joke about it now,” I mutter, smiling at Erin, and she puts a glass of red wine in front of me. “Thank you.”

  “Can I get you anything, Katie?” she asks the girl. “Juice?”

  “It’s okay, I’ll get it,” Katie replies quickly, maybe not wanting Erin to go out of her way for her. “I’m going to go back to bed, I just wanted to say hello to Celina.”

  “At least eat something first,” I tell her, brow furrowing.

  “I will,” she promises, giving me a quick hug, then heading back inside.

  Knuckles pulls my chair closer to his, clearly wanting some attention.

  “Hi,” I say, picking up my burger and unwrapping it. “You have no idea how happy I am right now that this is about to enter my mouth.”

  Gage walks out and sits down with us. “Guess who has a date tonight?”

  Erin gasps, turning from Ace straight to her father. “With who? Is she from that dating website I put you on?”

  “No.” He scowls, lip lifting up in a sneer. “I told you that there’s no way I’m going on a date with a woman from a dating site.”

  “Well, where did you meet this one then?” she asks, moving to sit next to him.

  “At the grocery store,” he admits, then cringes and adds, “When Ace was out on a run and you sent me to get you . . . feminine products.”

  “Oh yeah,” Erin snickers, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Good times. Who knew tampons were going to find you a lady? Do we get to meet her? How old is she? Is she pretty? Does she have any kids? Because I don’t want any stepsiblings, I like being the apple of your eye.”

  Gage simply smiles, stands, and kisses the top of her head. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  “What? You aren’t going to give me any information?” she calls out, frowning. “This bitch better be good to him.”

  “It’s a date, not an arranged marriage,” I point out, making the men laugh.

  “Yeah, but it’s his first date since he . . . broke up with his ex-girlfriend Veronica,” Erin explains, shoulders hunching. “I just hope he finds a good woman is all. Someone who will look after him and can handle what he comes with.”

  “A whole motorcycle club and a nosy daughter?” Knuckles asks, throwing a chip at Erin. “He’s a grown-ass man, let him have a little fun. He has needs, you know.”

  “Ew.” Erin winces, putting down her food like she’s suddenly put off it. “I don’t need to hear those words ever again, please and thank you.”

  I smile at her reaction, and the relationship she has with her dad. She’s lucky: she has two fathers who love her. Meanwhile, I can’t even get mine to visit me. Pushing that thought away, I finish up the food and drink my wine, everyone else having more than one glass. Soon, the laughing gets louder and everyone starts dancing.

  “Want to sneak away?” Knuckles asks, lips pressed against my ear. “I didn’t get to taste you yesterday, and it’s all I can think about. I want to hear those little moans and feel your thighs tremble against my hands.”

  I make a noise in my throat and stand up, offering him my hand. If anyone notices us leaving, they don’t say anything. We don’t make it to his room before his lips are on mine, my back against the hall wall, his hands in my hair, at my nape, all over my skin.

  I feel him everywhere.

  And for the first time, I embrace it.

  I don’t push him out.

  I let him in.

  And it’s that much sweeter.

  21

  I end up staying the night at the clubhouse, and then having to rush my ass home to have a quick shower before work. Luckily, I make it, my red heels walking through the doors just as the clock strikes 9:00 a.m. When I sit down at my desk, something catches my eye. Quickly, I grab the freshly printed newspaper in front of me, my fingers crushing the paper as I read the headline.

  MY TIME WITH THE CURSED RAVENS BIKER GANG

  By Celina Hutton

  Those slimy, backstabbing bastards.

  They have printed “my story” on the first fucking page, and stated how I was arrested on the clubhouse property and that I was borderline hostile to a certain Officer Keeton. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself as I continue reading. They go on to say that I have family ties with the MC and apparently that “the MC member who was arrested is guilty, and the whole club knows it.”

  I’ve never said that.

  But here’s the real kicker.

  Some of the paragraphs in the article were taken from my draft write-up. I was trying to cast the MC in a positive light, and they changed my words and turned them into something completely different.

  They stole my fucking notes. They must have taken my laptop when I went out for lunch, because that’s the only time I leave it on my desk. I remember when Robert was watching me closely when I was logging in on the day he asked me to write the article.

  Add plagiarism to the list of fucked-up shit they’ve done to me by publishing this article under my name.

  I cannot believe this shit. The nerve of them.

  This is highly illegal, defamatory, and straight-out lying just to get a story. They threw one of their own under the bus, just because I refused to write the story they wanted. I’m shaking I’m so angry, my fingers trembling as I lift them in front of me.

  They think they’re going to get away with this, but they’re not.

  I love this job, but there’s no way I can stay here now. How can I? If I quit though, does that let them win?

  I don’t want them to win.

  Robert steps into my office and glances down at the newspaper in front of me.

  “It was Tim’s idea,” he tells me, but it doesn’t sound like he opposed it at all. “You already had the story, Celina, you just didn’t have the balls to publish it, so we did. You should be thankful.”

  He has to be kidding me right now. “I never gave you those quotes, or any of that information. You stole my draft, copied it, and changed it to be something I never wanted it to be and slapped my name on it,” I seethe, teeth clenched together. “That’s illegal.”

  He has the nerve to shrug. “So what, you going to call the owner of the newspaper a liar?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Just let it go, Celina. And next time, maybe you should do what your boss tells you. Oh, and congrats on an amazingly written article.”

  He walks out, and I pull my phone from my lap and press STOP on the record button. I’ve never used this recording app before, and I’m glad that it’s seemed to work perfectly.

  Got you, you fucking pieces of shit.

  I pack up all my things and leave my desk knowing that I’m never going to come back to it. This isn’t the end for me, but it is the end of working for Tim and having to see my loser ex-boyfriend every day.

  Good riddance.

  Instead of driving home, I head to a law firm. Bentley and Channing law firm to be exact.

  They fucked with the wrong woman.

  By the time I get home, Knuckles’s Harley CVO Breakout is already parked out the front of my house. I guess he saw the newspaper. I should tell him that if he wants to go and give them hell, he can do it now because I don’t give a shit anymore. I find him standing at my front door, back against the wood, helmet still in his hands. He pushes off the door and comes over to me.

  “I know,” I say, arms up to try to calm him down. “I don’t know what—”

  “How did this happen, Celina?” he growls at me. “Shovel doesn’t need this while he’s waiting to go in front of the co
urt, and we don’t need the exposure when we’re trying to lay low right now.”

  “I know,” I repeat. “But it—”

  “It’s on the fucking front page,” he continues, cutting me off. Okay, I get that he’s angry, but he’s not listening to me or letting me explain. This isn’t my fault, nor did it get my approval. It’s just a shitty thing that’s happened, but something we can get through.

  Together.

  I take a deep breath.

  “The truth is, I was going to write a story, but it wasn’t what they published. They stole it and changed it,” I admit, but from the look on his face, he only heard the start of that sentence.

  He shakes his head and laughs without humor. “There were things in the article only you would know, Celina. They couldn’t have known any of that stuff. So don’t try to say it wasn’t what they published. I should have known. All along, you were planning on writing a fucking story. What? Fame over loyalty? I hope the fame keeps you warm at night.”

  “We can fix this,” I tell him, speaking quickly to get my words in. “I’m sorry it happened but let me explain—”

  “You know, Prez warned me that getting involved with a journalist wasn’t a smart move, that it won’t be good for the club, but I brushed him off,” he continues, completely ignoring what I have to say. “Probably too distracted by all . . . this.” He gestures to my body, and I go still, looking him dead in the eye and daring him to continue.

  I was never distracted by him, just drawn in like a motherfucking magnet, and if he’s going to turn around and be an asshole right now, I guess this is the I told you so moment, when I tell myself I should have known better. I think he has a right to be angry, his MC name along with mine is splashed all over the front page, and he’s right, with Shovel’s hearing it’s not the best timing for a newspaper to post that false quote by me, all but incriminating him, but it’s just that, false.

  I was loyal to the club.

  I guess he’s right though, if I wasn’t a journalist, there’d be no risk and the MC would never have been put in this position. The draft I wrote on the MC, positive or not, was also warped and thrown back into my face by my employer. I would never have said those things.