by Marata Eros
And I'm the one to do it.
There's no doubt that I'm not at my best emotionally and, especially, physically. My chest feels like it’s filled with broken glass every time I breathe, and a pleasant soreness has taken up residence where Viper's mouth and tongue were on my body just a few hours ago.
I can't think about that now. Can’t think about Viper and what he might mean to me.
I feel like shit. Viper really put himself out on a limb for me even though he barely knows me. What he does know casts me in the worst possible light. And to make things so much worse, I allowed Viper and his brothers to think that I'm romantically taken by a rival rider.
Does he know Puck is a cop? I wonder. He certainly wouldn't know Puck’s my brother.
We both use aliases, though my name has a grain of realness.
There's so many unanswered questions that I need to ask my brother.
But even if Viper did know Puck is undercover, Puck's conduct doesn't seem very police-like.
I couldn't have orchestrated a mess this bad, or the appearance of so many bad things, even if I'd planned it.
Calem's little hands circle Puck's waist, and I lean against him, wrapping my arms around him as Puck winds through the back roads of Kent then a once-rural Covington. Finally, somewhere on the outskirts of Fairwood, he slows the massive Harley.
We get to a barely-there gravel driveway off the main road, where a ribbon of grass disappears between dense trees that appear to close in on each side. They loom over the driveway, casting lacy emerald shadows on the rough drive.
As the bike crawls up the twisting driveway, the only noise is the crunch of gravel and intermittent birdsong. The trees grow denser still, as the driveway narrows. Then at the top, the trees thin and the forest ends abruptly.
In the center, on a knoll dead ahead, stands a dilapidated post-Depression-era farmhouse. Perfectly placed for maximum perspective. Instantly, I see why this is Puck's real home and not the addy that he fronts for Chaos.
The land is gorgeous. Off in the distance, the Cascade Range rises like emerald spires, piercing the low, dense halos of fog that give way to the cooler autumn temperatures of the changing season.
Puck rolls the bike to a stop and hits the kickstand. I tap his shoulder, and he steadies the bike as I dismount slowly, sucking in a painful breath.
No matter what I do, I can't move and not feel pain.
Like the Road Kill doctor said—three weeks. And that was probably minimum to not cringe every time I take a breath. Doc has no way of knowing all the things I did after it was injured, either. I probably lengthened the healing time by grim necessity.
I turn, and Calem is looking around at all that vivid green space with large eyes.
A huge maple tree stands to the left of the vintage farmhouse. It’s starting to turn color, bright-lime leaves flaming to an orangey-red. A tire swing, weathered and beaten from years of decay, hangs from a fresh rope.
I look at my brother with some degree of suspicion. But I decide to quiz him on some of this later. Nest building isn't really his thing. Neither of us stay anywhere long enough to watch the proverbial oak tree grow. But some of the subtle exterior touches around the place speak to a different headspace than the one we've both shared for so long.
“Wow!” Calem squeals in clear delight, sliding off the bike with barely a hop, before racing straight for the tire swing.
“Hey!” I yell, though he ignores me.
Puck turns off the engine and twists his head around to look at me. “It's okay. Tire's solid. Replaced the rope not too long ago.”
I feel the frown before I ask, “Why?”
Puck shrugs, throwing his leg over the seat and stretching like I've seen him do a thousand times. Like he'll touch the sky with his fingertips.
He turns, and we just stare at each other for a handful of seconds while Calem shrieks with happiness just a few yards away.
“Come here,” Puck says, his voice thick with emotion.
I run the few paces to him and throw my arms around him, hissing through the pain in my chest. “Watch the ribs.”
Carefully, my older brother closes his muscled arms around me, and I feel the warmth of his breath on the top of my head.
“You look older,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Because I am.”
Silence thrums between us, then Puck asks, “What happened, Candi?”
“Road Kill MC happened.” My voice is dry.
He releases me, and we have the beauty of just standing there, looking at each other for the first time in three years and not having to act, pretend, or cut our time short. Still, the job that lies before us hovers like a black cloud.
“Possible territory thing?” Puck glances at Calem.
I look too. Calem is twisting the tire around with him in it then letting himself spin out.
I return my attention to Puck. “Viper says that they became aware of the child trafficking ring not long ago. Wanted to snuff it out before it could get a foothold. Apparently, they're pretty adept at cleaning their territory.” I suppress the eye roll I'm dying to give.
“Road Kill doesn't do what Chaos does.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” I did my homework but still mentally lumped a lot of the MCs together into the same unsavory category.
“Really. Like you're probably aware, Chaos will do any criminal act. Nothing is too vile for them. Especially if money's involved.” He squeezes my hand and lets it drop, staring off at the mountains. “I was there when they helped take down the sex trafficking two years ago. And from what I've heard, they chased the Bloods out and the mob since. There might be a ton of illegal shit going down outside of the southeastern part of the state, but not much goes on that they don't know about.”
“The Road Kill rider who was there at the handoff wasn't just a biker. He was military. Had the feel.”
Puck nods. “He is. Navy SEAL. Name's Noose. There's three in that club who are.”
Ah. Love the name. The meaning’s not lost on me.
Now it's my turn to look off into space. “So now what?”
“You know exactly what.”
I do. “I'll have to talk to my contact. Make sure they know I'm closing in, that there was a breakdown with part one of the operation. I'll need backup for the sting.” The other agents will take care of their end.
“You still have two hours until I would have been there, along with you and the Chaos Rider.”
I shiver. “Yeah, Dagger. He's such a sleaze.” He was the one who should have showed.
Puck nods and lifts a muscular shoulder as if to say, “Thems the breaks,” then cocks his head. “What was all that emotional shit with Viper?”
Heat rises on my face, and Puck whistles, holding up a palm. “No judgement, but I really need to know who hurt you and what happened. I've got to know now, before we do this handoff and capture this insane pervert.”
Strong fingers curl around my shoulders.
Our eyes lock.
“I slept with him,” I say, tearing off the Band-Aid.
Puck's hands drop. “You're not a casual woman.”
That's so true. And we both know why.
“No,” I reply softly.
His Adam's apple does a sharp bob. “Okay. I'm listening.”
So I tell him. Well, I recount the barest facts about sex with Viper. No matter how close a woman is with her brother, some topics that are just too awkward for words.
“So,” Puck says after a full minute of contemplative silence, “you negotiated your body for freedom.”
His words might sound as though he's insulting me, but Puck's dark eyes are lit from within by compassion. He, better than any human being, knows I do only what I wish to do. No more and no less.
“In a way, but like I mentioned”—I shove my dark-auburn hair back, and small tendrils curl around my fingers from the loose braid I fashioned as we were riding—“I wanted to,” I finish in a low voice.
Puck's face shows the unspoken questions he has, but he skips over that part I admitted was more than consensual.
“So that big red-headed bull?”
“He fractured my rib. Got me when I was down.”
He puts a palm over the sore rib, and his jaw locks. “But this Viper threw you against your wall? I'm trying, Candi, but I'm not going to lie. I sort of want to kill him.”
I nod. I get that. “Yes, but in his defense, he thought I was the worst woman in the world—delivering children to pedophiles. In their minds, I would have deserved that and worse.”
“Intellectually, I get it. But emotionally, I want to ride back there and beat everyone who touched you until their own mamas couldn't recognize their faces.”
Stepping forward, he traces the vague mark from Viper's palm with his thumb. “He hurt you.”
I take the deepest breath I can, wrapping my hand over the one that strokes the wound. “Yes, and then he healed me.”
“How is that possible?”
Our hands drop.
I don't know. “If I knew, I'd tell you. But the whole thing was confusing as hell. And I know, Puck. Damn—do I know that I just met this guy. That he did bad things, chased by really wonderful things. But you know what?”
Puck folds his arms, and I know he's digging in his heels.
Ignoring his body language, I go on. “I feel like I've been looking for him my entire life, and there he was, all that time.”
“Candi, you can't be serious.”
“You saw him,” I state in a low voice. “He claimed me when he shouldn't have. It wasn't a logical move. I never told him I was FBI, and he let whatever this thing that's begun between us guide him. He threw down for me.” I fling my palms away from my body. “You know that means business in the MC.”
I know Puck heard that, but after all the upheaval, the fact bears repeating.
He threads fingers through his wind-blasted hair. “Yeah, don't have a ready explanation for that one. Word on the street is Viper doesn't do relationships. Not since his old lady died a while back.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling kind of sick. “I didn't know I was competing with a ghost.”
“Candi.”
My face snaps to Puck.
“I love you.”
“And I love you,” I say instantly.
“We need to feed Calem and deliver him to the rendezvous. Your love life—or whatever this fucked-up timing and this thing is with the RK prez—will have to wait. And then I think I'm going to kick Viper's ass.” Puck's quiet for a handful of heartbeats then adds, “And if he lives, then I'll let you date him.”
I smile. Can't help it.
At nearly thirty-eight, Puck still thinks he can vet the guys I like.
I guess, after a father like ours, he can't see another perspective.
“Deal?” he asks. There's deeper questions in his gaze than the one-word question portrays.
I'll answer those later, if I can. Right now, we have a last handoff to make.
I don't say it. I hug him instead and whisper against his chest, “Deal.”
In less than an hour, we'll be meeting the devil.
And my brother and I will send him directly to hell.
Chapter 19
Viper
Feel like somebody just fed me my balls and I tried to swallow the whole thing down.
I'm choking while I sit at the head of the table and stare at the wood grain.
Not a brother speaks.
The deafening and accusatory silence surrounds me like the inside of a mausoleum.
I'm this close to calling Mover and finding out what the fuck is going on. Why would Puck, a cop, decide to come in here with the double barrels, shoot a brother, and take Candice?
Her eyes. I shut mine, blocking out the silence of my men so that the only image I see is those golden eyes telling me to forget her.
Like I could.
Then she'd thanked me, as though no one had ever done something worthwhile enough to voice gratefulness.
Thank you for what? Fucking her? Beating her?
Letting her go?
She fucked me over by admitting she's with Puck. No small thing, considering Chaos Riders are Road Kill's number-one enemy.
But Puck's a cop, deep undercover, and only four men know that. I wanted to unveil that small detail when he was here, holding his guns and taking my woman.
Even though every fiber of my being wanted to, I couldn’t endanger a cop who did right by us and innocents a couple years back. Besides, I don't have a clue how to explain it. Or how I would have stopped Candice from going with him. From going anywhere but away from me.
“Viper,” Noose says from my right.
“Yes.” Swiping a tired hand over my face, I finally look up from my brooding thoughts.
“This is beyond fucked up.” He spreads his arms as if to say, right?
“Give us something, Viper. Anything,” Snare says.
Murmurings of assent rise like vapor around me.
“You fuck this chick and throw down for her within practically the same day,” Wring says in his steady way. “Hell, I knotted her.”
My next words sound lame, but they're the truth. “Candice is not what she seems.”
Lariat shakes his head, rocking back in his chair. “A Chaos fuck comes in here and shoots a brother then takes the woman you want to make property.” He slaps his denim-clad thighs as if the facts are simple, and the front legs of his chair bark as they hit the floor.
He's so right.
Candice went with Puck.
And I didn't get the feeling she was afraid of him. I almost got the sense that she was relieved to see him.
Does she know Puck? My mind supplies the memory of the tender kiss he placed on her head once she was in his embrace.
“I'm calling church,” I say suddenly, a murky thought rising to the surface of my brain like an oil slick on water.
Rider stands. “We don't have dick figured out, Prez.” He swings an arm so tatted, there's no flesh visible. “It's what the knot boys just said. Arlington left with that guy—a rival rider—and she told you. She rejected your kingly ass.”
That brings a tired smile to my face. “Candice Arlington's got something she has to finish, and she's not willing to tell me or anyone else.”
“Could've persuaded that along,” Wring admits darkly.
I look at him. “We did enough of that already.”
We stare, and his face fills with all the things he would like to say but won't.
I am still the president of Road Kill MC, even though my conduct of the last twenty-four hours has been under heavy question.
Wring's stare hardens. “Puck could've killed Shannon and Duke.”
I shake my head, giving Wring the weight of everything I won't say in front of the uninformed. “He wouldn't, and for the record, your property's shook up, but safe?” My eyebrows rise, letting the question hang between us.
I know his family is safe.
Wring gives a terse nod. “Yeah. But the thought of another man touching my family makes my balls crawl up my ass.”
Noose snorts.
I stand and lean forward, spreading my fingertips on the tabletop. Taking a sucking inhale, I restate everything. “Candice can reject me, but mark me on this—I will have her.”
“She's a dangerous woman—a woman we don't know enough about,” Noose reiterates.
Can't dispute that.
I look over the men for an entire minute. “I'm sorry. I said I'd do the job and just ended up screwing the pooch and selling the pups.”
No one says anything, so I fill the silence with the next thing. “I need to talk to Wring, Snare, and Noose—no one else. I'll figure this out. The kiddie ring will stop. You have my word.”
Lariat asks in a quiet voice, “What about Candice Arlington?”
“She's off-limits.” My eyes sweep the men. “No matter how dirty she looks, no matter that she rejected me
in front of everyone, or that she might be with Puck.” I say his name like the swear word I now think of it as.
But if my speculation is accurate, this shitstorm just went sideways for everyone.
“Gotcha,” Rider says, clapping Lariat on the back.
Lariat captures my eyes, and I give him the nod. The one asking him to trust me—even though I'm a dumbass and shook the foundation of the men’s faith in me.
Hell, I shook my own.
The brothers file out.
When the last one leaves and shuts the door, I ask Wring, “How's Storm?”
Wring lifts his upper lip. “Surly.”
“Good. Must be feeling right as rain.”
Wring lifts his chin. “Doc's patching up his little flesh wound.”
“I wouldn't go that far. But he's got a case of hate for Arlington that'll never fade.” Wring's eye contact is steady.
That's a problem with Storm: he hates women. I tapped him to do this job with me, and when he tried to do what I needed, I blocked his efforts.
As if reading my mind, Noose says, “You kill-blocked him.”
“Beat-blocked,” Snare corrects, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
My attention lands on these three men I've been through a few tough spots with. “Puck's a cop.”
“Yup,” Noose says, lifting a finger in the air, “but that doesn't help us, boss. It only deepens the mystery of his involvement. We've been informed, in fucking bald terms, that the police are taking a vacation of Road Kill MC being on cop radar until Puck's out of the undercover gig in Chaos.” He shrugs his linebacker shoulders.
“Yeah.” Wring shakes his head. “Him coming in here like a Clint Eastwood doppelgänger is weird as fuck,” Wring says slowly, cupping his chin.
Snare's face snaps to mine, studying my face. “You've made a connection.”
I nod reluctantly, but the answer more logical than anything I could have put together. “I have. It's so insane that I don't want to verbalize it.” I graze a hand over my short hair. “But the hell with it.”
They're silent, waiting for my next bomb to drop.
“What if she's also a cop, but serving in another capacity?”
Noose gives a hoarse laugh. “Fuck me runninʼ. I feel like a buffoon.”
