Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8)

by Natasha Thomas

  My mom used to say when one door closes a window opens. I never believed it or her, not until the proverbial window was slammed open and through it climbed my salvation. She is the last thing I expected or wanted, but she is exactly what I need.

  The only problem with the situation I find myself in is that even on the off chance something between us was to happen it could never amount to anything. There are too many obstacles in our way, too much history to develop a relationship that’s doomed to fail.

  Oh, and one more thing. My astute powers of deduction tell me that the fact that I’ve been living a double life for the last three and a half years might be a deal breaker for her. Especially if you take into consideration what it is that I’ve been doing.

  But we’ll never know, will we? Because I don’t ever intend to tell her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ~ Knight ~

  “Me being rude: Shut the fuck up. Me being polite: Please shut the fuck up.”

  – The truth about Knight

  “You’re fired,” I yell at the retreating back of the woman who lives to drive me insane.

  “Mmhmm, that’s nice,” she scoffs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, big guy.”

  Oh hell no! I don’t fucking think so, not this time. This time, she crossed the line, and she knows it. I don’t have the patience for childish games, and if there’s one thing she’s good at its playing games. Especially with me. Today’s incident is the perfect example of that.

  “Fuck that, Zara. Get your ass back here,” I bellow, not giving a fuck whether everyone working out in my gym can hear me or not.

  Stopping in the doorway with one hand on the handle, Zara spins around to face me. I suck in a deep breath when I see the fire flashing in her unusual coal colored eyes, and not because I’m scared she’ll eviscerate me like her eyes promise she will. No, my pulse spikes and my dick throbs because Zara is far and away the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in the flesh or in the skin flicks I’ve recently taken to watching.

  “You know for a second there, I thought we could finally have a conversation that didn’t end in you firing me. Stupid me,” she shakes her head ruefully. “Some things never change, do they?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I roar, smacking both of my palms down on the desk harshly. “You call and leave a message saying you’re not coming in for a week, not bothering to actually fucking talk to me, much less give a reason why, and then you show up looking like that?” I gesture to her face, which is discolored by a fading bruise that stretches from her temple to the top of her jaw.

  When Zara walked into my office this morning, my jaw all but hit the floor. A primal urge to beat the shit out of whoever hurt her came over me, that scared the shit out of me. Never, not once, have I felt the need to protect someone like I do with Zara. And that shit makes absolutely no sense to me.

  Out of all the women I know, Zara is the strongest, most capable, and frustratingly independent. I blame her brothers for that. Specifically, Locke. He loves the hell out of his sister, but claims he wanted her to be able to take care of herself, which is why he let Zara figure shit out on her own. Unless we’re talking about dating because then, Locke becomes an overprotective, controlling asshole. Which just happens to be how I feel right now, and I don’t fucking like it. Not even a little bit.

  No matter what Zara thinks, I’ve never seen her as a little sister. She might be eight years younger than me, and also my best friend’s half-sister, but that doesn’t change the way I look at her.

  Glaring at me like I’ve lost my mind, which in all reality, I probably have, Zara crosses her arms over her generous chest. Fuck me, doesn’t she know all that does is accentuate her luscious tits and make my mouth water? Obviously, not, because if she did the little vixen would know she’s testing the limits of my self-restraint. And that’s not safe for either one of us because if I give into my growing attraction to her, there’s no way I’ll be able to let Zara go.

  “Listen here, big guy,” she snaps, jabbing her finger in my direction. “It’s not my fault you didn’t answer the phone when I called. Nor is it my problem that you didn’t call me back. If you wanted an explanation, all you had to do was pick up the damn phone and ask me for one. Not that I would have told you because it’s none of your business, but you still could have tried. Next off, I’m sorry my face offends your delicate sensibilities, but you’ll just have to get the fuck over it or send me home.”

  Narrowing her eyes even further, Zara props her hands on her hips and stomps her foot, only making her look more adorable. Like a cute, yet fierce kitten with her claws out. Not that I’ll tell her as much. Zara would rip my balls off and feed them to me if I let her know I find her temper tantrums endearing.

  “Oh, and another thing,” she shouts, drawing the attention of a few of the guys hanging around outside. “You better stop firing my ass every five seconds, Knight because the next time you do, I might just believe you mean it.”

  It’s equal parts good and bad this woman can read me so well. I’ve never meant it when I’ve told Zara she’s done working for me, but some days I think it would be easier if she weren't around to tempt me. If she left, I’d be a moody, sullen asshole who’s impossible to stand for a while until the memory of how she looks when she smiles at me every morning faded. But at the same time, maybe I’d get more done around here, instead of wasting hours staring at her perfect, heart-shaped ass in the mirrors.

  Shaking off those errant thoughts as I feel my cock twitch in my pants, I try to ignore the new image of her ass clenching under my hands as I power into her from behind, thrusting my cock into what I know will be the hottest, tightest, wettest pussy I’ve ever felt. Much to my disgust, my dick goes from semi-erect, to rock solid in a heartbeat, making me feel like even more of an asshole than I did already.

  I shouldn’t have yelled at her about something that is clearly not her fault. What I should have done is check if she’s okay, and who I need to beat the shit out of. Which is what I do now.

  “Point taken, but Zara,” I prompt when she turns her back on me. “If you even think of walking out that door and not coming back, I will track your ass down and haul you back. You’re the best damn manager this gym has ever seen, and I don’t want to lose you,” I admit, feeling like the world’s biggest pussy.

  Nonetheless, it’s true. Without Zara, Knight’s, the gym that’s been in my family since my dad opened it twenty-five years ago would be falling apart at the seams.

  Zara’s in charge of making sure the equipment is serviced and safety checked, the laundry service we have actually shows up each week, ordering, new memberships, complaints, and scheduling personal training sessions and the trainers to do them. So pretty much everything so that I can focus on running my business, and not have to worry about the everyday workings of the place.

  “Why, Knight,” Zara exhales dramatically. “That just might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Her demeanor changes in an instant, going from almost warm to ice cold. “Now, what do you want?”

  “What makes you think I want anything?” I ask with a smirk.

  Arching one of her perfectly curved eyebrows at me, Zara huffs,

  “Because you’re never nice. Grumpy, rude, crass, downright unbearable sometimes, and an insufferable asshole all the time, but never nice. Not to me. Now, answer the question. What do you want?”

  “Bullshit. I’m really fucking nice to you,” I jeer at her ridiculous comment. “I put up with your crap. I don’t complain when you’re half an hour late for work every day ending in Y. I even pay you to be here when you should be paying me for dealing with your annoying ass. So tell me; what’s not nice about that?”

  Zara throws her head back and laughs. The sound of her musical laughter filling the room, exposing the slender column of her throat. Before Zara, I never considered a woman’s throat to be a turn-on, but I’m learning with her that everything about her makes me hard.

/>   “See, that right there is the asshole I was talking about,” she says trying and failing to get herself under control. “You don’t put up with my crap, Knight; I put up with yours. And those overgrown Neanderthals you’ve got working for you who think checking out my lady lumps has become an Olympic sport. I’m half an hour late every day because you text me every morning and tell me to go fetch your coffee. Which is twenty minutes out of my way in the wrong direction, mind you. And as for paying me; you don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with you on a daily basis.”

  I see Locke’s dark head before I hear him, but Zara doesn’t. Nor does she flinch when the deep voice cuts through the silence, which makes me think she’s got a sixth sense when he’s around.

  “Yo,” he booms, as quietly as a six-foot-five powerhouse can. “She giving you trouble again?”

  His quick assumption that if Zara’s in my office, she’s being a menace sets my teeth on edge. To teach Locke a lesson, I’d like for him to walk in on me fucking his sister bent over my desk one day, just to prove Zara’s not the kind of trouble he associates with her.

  When neither of us answers him, Locke addresses Zara.

  “Hey, Sis. Have a good weekend?”

  Zara turns around and if it’s possible, pins him with an even more fierce glare than she’d given me. The look of sheer, unadulterated fury that crosses Locke’s face that he doesn’t try to mask, not even remotely, is a sight to behold. It’s not often that you see a man go from laid back to enraged in less than a second, but there you have it.

  “What the fuck? Who did that to you?” He sneers, walking to stand in front of her.

  Now that’s interesting; isn’t it? Big brother didn’t know his baby sister had been hurt, which doesn’t surprise me seeing as Locke was buried balls deep inside his ex-bitch for most of the weekend. Still, I figured he would have made some attempt to see her after the clusterfuck at Glacier a week ago.

  “You are dead to me,” Zara tells him in a deceptively calm tone of voice. “This is your fault, and I’m not speaking to you until you’ve paid penance for your dickishness.”

  “What the fuck are you going on about, and how’s that my fault? I didn’t do shit to you, so cut the crap, Z and tell me what happened,” he demands, getting nowhere fast.

  Zara backs away from him, skirting around the corner of my desk and heading for the door. Locke’s a quick sonofabitch when he wants to be, though, blocking the doorway and glowering down at her.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve had a little chat about who fucked up your face. Spill. Now.”

  “Listen up. When I want to tell you, I will. Until then, mind your own business and stay out of mine. I don’t ask you questions, and you don’t lie. That’s how this works; remember?”

  “It’s not the same fucking thing, and you know it,” Locke growls, reaching out to grab her.

  That has me springing into action. I don’t know why I do it, I just do. Grabbing hold of Locke’s wrist, I twist it behind his back, forcing him to bend at the waist and slam him face down onto my desk.

  “Do. Not. Fucking. Touch. Her,” I spit venomously. “She takes a step away from you, I don’t care if it’s out of fear or anger, and you back the fuck off. Sister or not, you respect her boundaries, or I’ll make you. We clear?”

  A soft, dainty hand stroking my arm has me whipping my head around to see Zara staring at me in shock. Her mouth is gaping open, and her eyes are wide as saucers. She doesn’t look scared, just stunned. Which is a good thing, because if I’d frightened her, I’d be forced to kick my own ass instead of Locke’s.

  “Let him go, please,” she finally whispers after a long, tense silence.

  Locke shakes off my hold before I can release him, glancing between Zara and I. He isn’t angry; he’s confused, which is probably worse for me because a curious, Locke is a dangerous one. The man enjoys a challenge and figuring out what, if anything is going on is one hell of a challenge.

  “I repeat, what the fuck is going on here?” Scowling at Zara, Locke turns to spare a glare in my direction. “First, I have to hear from Violet something happened to you, which is not fucking cool because I’ve been going out of my mind worrying about you. And second, why the hell does my best friend look like he wants to beat the shit out of me? Start explaining, Z. One way or another I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

  “Do you think you can calm the hell down so I can tell you, or do we have to do this the old fashioned way?” She snaps waspishly.

  Locke taps his fingers against the surface of my desk impatiently.

  “I’m waiting, but not for long. The old man is on my speed dial list, Z. Don’t make me do it.”

  Narrowing her eyes at him, I can almost hear her mind working. She’s pissed sure, but I know her devious mind is hatching a plan to pay him back for threatening to tell her dad, Chase.

  “Fine,” Zara eventually huffs. “I went to the bathroom at Glacier, and some girls were talking shit about you. One of them took particular offense to me telling them to quit it and elbowed me in the face. End of story. See,” she exclaims, “It’s no big deal, so can we drop it now?”

  Locke studies his sister for any signs that she’s lying to him. Presumably, he’s satisfied because he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. Pointing at me he states,

  “You and I will talk about that shit later,” gesturing to my desk. “And you, I don’t even know what to say. Why the fuck you couldn’t just tell me that in the first place so we could avoid all this is beyond me. Sometimes I think you do it on purpose to see how badly you can piss me off.”

  “Maybe you’re onto something there,” Zara hums. “But no, I’m not that desperate for entertainment, big brother. Now, if there’s nothing else?” She questions.

  Running his fingers through his hair, Locke asks,

  “You still coming for dinner?” Zara nods, to which he smiles at her in response. “Good. Then I guess I better let you get back to it. See you at seven,” he says by way of a command, walking straight out the door without bothering to say goodbye.

  Zara takes that as her cue to leave too, but she doesn’t get one foot out the door before I say,

  “You lied.” Tipping her head as if she’s daring me to call her out, I do. “He might not have noticed, but I have. You bite the corner of your bottom lip when you aren’t telling the truth, Zara. Now, what I want to know is why you lied to him?”

  “No, you really don’t,” she spits back.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I do, and I’m not going to give up as easily as your brother did. You tell me what you’re hiding, or maybe I’ll be the one to go have a chat with your dad,” I threaten. I wouldn’t do it, but she doesn’t know that.

  Zara’s eyes flash with disappointment before she quickly masks it with a small smirk. So much so, I would have missed it if I weren’t watching her so intently.

  “Go ahead, Knight. Call my dad and tell him. I’m sure he’d love to hear the story again from a different perspective.” My quizzical frown makes her smirk widen to a grin. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he already knows, big guy. It’s a little-known fact, but I tell my dad nearly everything. And what I don’t tell him, I tell my Pops. So, be my guest,” she sings, slamming the door on her way out.

  Slumping back into my seat, I look at the clock. Ten AM. Jesus, it’s going to be a long day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ~ Zara Dion ~

  “Asshole Chair: A chair located in a store which an unfortunate male is relegated to sit in while his female partner shops. Or, the one behind Knight’s desk.”

  – Zara’s wisdom

  Sanctimonious, bossy assholes, I seethe as I start wiping down the treadmills vigorously. If it weren’t for them, life would be simple. Or, at least, my life would. I know my brothers mean well, and for the most part, Knight does too, but seriously? I’m a grown ass woman, and their idea of looking out for me is getting old.

  What annoys me the m
ost, though, is that Locke is usually the least likely to try and intervene on my behalf, so why now? Why when I’m finally capable of taking care of myself does he believe he has the right to get involved?

  Oh well, I shrug getting back to the task at hand. It’s not like I can do anything about it anyway. Something I learned quickly since I was blessed with four brothers is to pick my battles wisely. There’s no point in getting upset every time they do something to annoy me because I would be in a perpetually bad mood if I did.

  My phone ringing distracts me, and when I notice the caller ID, my face softens.

  “Hey, Pop. What’s doing?”

  My favorite person in the world chuckles at my greeting, which is a sound that has always managed to soothe me, even on my worst days.

  “Mornin’ darlin.’ You coming by to see an old man today?”

  “Nope,” I chirp, popping the P. “No old men on the roster today, but I will come and see you later.”