I never met a man who commanded such power. My father tried and failed, only because he wanted the power and would do anything to dominate people into his reign. Thorne silenced with a glance, punished with a frown, and intimidated me with a single dismissive wave of his hand.
“What happened?”
His perfect baritone bumbled my stomach like I lingered too near a base drum. The smooth cadence pinned me in place. I wanted to hear that sound again, if only to memorize the notes and imagine the score of his voice played out on a piano.
“Rose, you remember Thorne,” Keep said. “Thorne, Bud. She’s grown since you last saw her.”
He didn’t greet me. Hardly even looked at me. I might have been insulted if I weren’t relieved. I didn’t know what stage-fright was, but, had my brothers expected me to speak, I’d have collapsed under my own spotlight.
Thorne didn’t care for pleasantries. “What happened?”
“Rose accidentally did a bit of recognizance,” Brew said. “Took a ride over to Slick Eddie’s pawn shop. Gave up her guitar.”
Keep snorted. “For a shit price too.”
Lyn laughed. Thorne didn’t.
“Did they know her?” He asked.
“Sure. She told them her name.” Brew didn’t look at me. “They probably followed her here.”
Thorne nodded. “Get her home.”
“Then what?”
“Had my own run-in today. Get her out of here, then call the guys in. We gotta go to church.”
The hair on my neck prickled. A thin cut grazed Thorne’s cheek. Something curdled inside me. He was probably lucky the small gash was his only injury. Brew and Keep grabbed my arms and hauled me from the room. I stumbled, but they didn’t let me fall.
Thorne hadn’t spoken to me.
I glanced over my shoulder as my brothers led me away.
The midnight dark of Thorne’s stare silenced every thought and melody twisting my mind. The blonde leaned over the desk, whispering something into his ear.
His gaze never diverted from me.
My brothers thought I was in danger.
The biggest danger to me was drawing the attention from Thorne Radek.
I didn’t like complications.
I didn’t need complications.
Rose Darnell was a major fucking complication.
Was she safe? Fuck if I knew. Her brothers were right to be pissed, but even The Coup respected Blade. They had no reason to harass the daughter of Anathema’s last VP. Hell, Blade was part of the club’s golden age. His generation managed jail times, not body bags. That peace was hard to forget.
But we didn’t need some goddamned co-ed barging into enemy-owned fronts and destroying what weak truce we created. Her father couldn’t protect her from behind bars. The Coup probably followed her sweet ass right to Pixie.
Any hint of antagonism from Exorcist’s men and her brothers would destroy themselves in a half-cocked rage. Blade asked his sons to look after her, and she grew up safe while her old man shared the soap with a dozen gangbangers dirtier than him. But she wasn’t a kid anymore. Keep and Brew had cause to worry.
No one targeted children. But Exorcist would fuck with the adult sister of Anathema’s Sergeant at Arms and Secretary just to piss us off.
“Well, she’s a pretty little thing.” Lyn hopped on the desk. I knew what to expect from her leather-clad legs, but that teasing wink didn’t belong outside Sorceress. “Must be twenty-one by now.”
Somewhere around that. Her brothers and I were men when Blade knocked-up his junkie wife for the last time. One of the few pregnancies that kept. How the kid managed to be born without a cigarette between her lips and track marks between her toes was a goddamned miracle.
And to grow up into that.
Christ. Rose was pretty. She didn’t twist a guy’s boxers like Lyn. Didn’t have to. Just the hint of her baby bunny eyes hidden behind the spiraling curls of her hair could cripple a man. I served two years in county for Anathema. Didn’t want to think how many years I’d lose to a girl like her.
“We don’t have to worry about domestic disturbance calls, do we?” Lyn arched an eyebrow.
“Keep and Brew?”
“They’re pissed.”
“That’s their sister.”
“Keep’s not exactly the most stable at the moment.”
I frowned. “He’s not going to hurt his little sister. He’d kill himself first. Or Brew would tear his head off.”
“Collateral damage?”
I didn’t like the insinuation. Except she was probably right.
My head pulsed. I didn’t know what’d come first—Ex’s bullet or a fucking aneurysm.
“You sticking around much longer?” I grunted.
Lyn licked her lips. Tease.
“I want to see how this plays out,” she said.
“You aren’t getting inside the chapel.”
“Did I ask?” Her voice hardened. “Do we have anything to worry about?”
“Worry about the day we don’t have a loaded gun pointed at our heads.”
“Always the optimist,” she sighed.
“Realist.”
“Dead man.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Lyn knew more than she should. Even worse, she flaunted it. And no matter how many times I told her to shut her mouth and shake her ass like a good girl, she never listened. Just meant now I had two women with death wishes. The stripper who thought she could roll with the brothers and the innocent who blundered into a world that’d eat her alive. And Anathema wasn’t strong enough now to protect either of them from themselves.
I ordered Lyn to wait at the bar. She flipped me off.
She’d never keep that promise.
Keep’s bar stayed cleaner than its owner, and Brew’s warehouse fortified our church with steel walls, security cameras, and what used to be the sweat of brotherhood. The walls still stood, but the cameras filmed enough blood to fracture that brotherhood like a skull on pavement. What remained wasn’t Anathema. The real club festered in betrayal. The infection that split the charter plagued our chapel.
And I was the fucker caught in the middle. Salvaging the few good men that survived the war into a haphazard core. A core I didn’t even trust.
Anathema held a round table for our officers. I claimed the executive seat. The others leaned in on bar stools or folding chairs. Whatever they could find that wasn’t still stained with blood or the reek of death and treason. Smelled the same to me.
Scotch heaved his bulk into his chair, tapping a newly purchased pack of cigs on the table. The cigarette weighed heavy on his lips. He rubbed the powder white scruff on his chin before flicking his lighter. He crumpled up the nicotine patch peeled from his shoulder.
“Only live once, right?” The smoke exhaled from his nose in a satisfied sigh. “Better enjoy it before the ticker finally gives out.”
“At this point, I’m starting to think death feels like a party.” James “Gold” Mered, club treasurer and goddamned philosopher, bummed a cigarette. “Gotta be a better shindig than this shit.”
It wasn’t just the cigarette smoke that was bitter. Something had to raise our morale. If it meant calling in whores or hiring clowns, I’d do it. Fuck, both at the same time if it helped. Anathema saw weirder shit these last few months than bozo ramming a one-armed Puerto-Rican prostitute.
Except only one thing would fix my club.
Finding the brother betraying us.
And carving out his heart during a special service in our chapel.
“Where’s Frick and Frack?” Gold sucked his cigarette down to the filter. He snapped his fingers, bumming another as soon as he tossed the butt in the ashtray. “Saw them cornering some sweet-ass.”
“Hey.” Scotch threatened with the lighter, aiming the flame at Gold. “Watch your mouth. That’s my Goddaughter.”
“Shit, that’s Bud?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Gold
whistled. “Damn.”
The door swung open. Keep and Brew arrived in time to defend their sister’s honor before they kicked her ass from the clubhouse back home.
Where she belonged.
“Sorry,” Brew said. He took Scotch’s offered cigarette with a nod. “Family issues.”
Keep slid into his seat and ran his trembling hand over his smooth head. Nervous trait from before he shaved the golden locks no one in his family shared. The shakes were new and getting worse. Wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.
“Kids these days,” Keep said.
“She getting home safe?” I asked.
Brew drew on his cig. “For now.”
“She’ll be fine.” Keep nodded. “Got two prospects riding behind her. Said if she got a flat tire I’d be patching it with their asses.”
Scotch shook his head. “Don’t know. Seems like Red’s the type of guy who’d like that.”
“Times are changin’, old man,” Brew laughed. “Prospects come in all flavors now. I only care if they shoot a gun straight.”
“This is why I liked retirement. My time was simpler.”
“Nothing’s simple anymore.” I cracked the gavel on the stand. “Least of all Anathema.”
Gold grinned. “Guessing it wasn’t Lyn who got you all bloody.”
I ignored the throbbing cut on my cheek. “Compliments of my adventure this morning.”
“I’m getting a little tired of all this adventure,” Keep muttered.
“You and me both,” Brew said.
“New business.” I extended my arms. “Met an old friend this afternoon. Priest decided to take a joyride across the river. I don’t think it was a friendly visit.”
“Christ.” Gold kicked back in his chair. “Was it a hit?”
“No. But he wanted me to know he was following.”
“Why now?” Scotch asked. “What are they playing at? Neither of our crews are ready for war again. Breaking the truce would be suicide.”
I shook my head. “He’s expanding. Exorcist is sniffing around Sorceress. Harassing Lyn.”
Brew chuckled. “Lyn can handle herself.”
“Usually.” I tossed the baggie of crimson meth onto the table. “But the stakes have changed.”
I studied the table. Four men I trusted. Four men the club trusted. Scotch was one of Anathema’s first prospects in the seventies. Gold treated his office with as much respect as his military career. And Brew and Keep came from an original member. They worshiped their father and lived just as he taught—to put Anathema first.
Only they had broken their vow to their father and to the club.
One of the brothers betrayed us.
I just needed to know who.
“Is that Temple’s meth?” Scotch asked. “Where’s it from?”
“One of Lyn’s girls is shacking up with a Coup officer.” I pitched the baggie across the table. Keep shifted as it rolled near him. “If Exorcist made a deal with Temple MC, he’ll have money for guns, weapons, bribes, everything.”
Gold shook his head. “But Temple hasn’t dealt with Anathema for years. Not since...”
Scotch took a hit of his cigarette. “Not since Blade was put away. ATF wanted him to rat on his supply. Never did. Can’t get that kind of loyalty anymore.”
“If anyone, Temple owes the drugs to us.” Gold leaned forward, flexing a scarred arm burnt in a firefight somewhere outside Tikrit.
“No,” Scotch said. “They owe it to Blade. Never trusted anyone else.”
“Until now?” Keep asked. “Why the hell would they partner with Exorcist?”
“No one is saying they did.” Brew frowned. “Maybe Lyn’s girl got it outside the valley.”
Gold nodded. “That’s true. Ex wouldn’t be stupid enough to deal here.”
“Unless he meant to send a message.” I glanced over the table. Scotch and Gold eyed me through the smoke. Keep avoided looking at the drugs. Brew stared at his brother. “They deal in town. Make a move on Sorceress. Follow me in broad fucking daylight.”
“Damn.” Scotch patted out his cigarette. “So what do we do?”
“Can Lyn talk to her dancer? See where she got her fix?” Gold asked.
“Already pinning her down, I bet.”
“Wouldn’t mind watching that,” Keep grinned. “Not at all.”
“Well, when Lyn blackens her eyes and Exorcist’s crew screams for retaliation, she can stay with you until the shit-storm passes.”
Keep shrugged. “Love is pain.”
I studied the table again. “Gold, take a ride across the river. See what our friends are doing. Find out who they’re talking to.”
“I’ll take my guys. Survey any new businesses popping up.”
“Be careful,” Brew warned. “This ain’t a time to flash a smile and wag your cock.”
“Appreciate your concern,” Gold winked.
Keep took a breath. “Anything else?”
Plenty, but nothing I was willing to say. I shrugged.
“Your sister’s causing problems.”
Both brothers tensed. Brew’s scowl darkened, but Keep shrugged me off.
“It’s fine. No harm done. Rose is just a kid.”
“Doesn’t look it to me,” I said.
Keep’s smile faded. Brew pushed away from the table.
“They won’t act on her.” Keep ignored the comment. “She pawned her guitar, trying to prove some dumbass point to us. Same shop our dad used back in the day. They’ll know she’s an innocent.”
“She’s not innocent. She’s a Darnell. Your family is renowned.”
Brew snorted. “Not renowned. Notorious. I want her protected.”
Keep’s brow twisted. “What?”
“I want a guard on her. Someone to run by her apartment at night. She made a mistake. A big one. And I don’t think Ex is going to forgive her. Not when he can exploit it.”
Keep interrupted Scotch with a laugh. He shrugged. “Exploit what? She’s not involved with Anathema. Anyone with half a brain knows it. She doesn’t need a guard. Maybe a kick in the ass, but no one is going to piss around with her.”
Gold brushed imaginary dust off his vest. Scotch picked at the plastic wrapper on his cigarette package. The brothers didn’t notice.
“It doesn’t matter if she is involved or not,” Brew said. “She looks like it. She needs help.”
Keep groaned. “She needs a guitar, not a fucking escort.”
Neither brother would back down. It was what I needed, but not what I wanted.
The only time Keep and Brew ever disagreed, and it made a bulls-eye out of an innocent girl. I grew up with the brothers. Cut my teeth on the same corners. Fucked the same girls. We practically bled the same blood.
But there it was.
Keep and Brew weren’t fighting about their kid sister’s safety. One of them knew something the other didn’t. Either the girl would be a target for Exorcist, or she was just a Darnell with tits.
Brotherly disagreements didn’t usually get the kid sister killed. This one would do more than that. The future of Anathema existed in whatever truth I could decipher from Keep and Brew. And I had no fucking clue how to figure it out.
I waited as the brothers glared over the table. I didn’t know how to read them, but someone did. Someone young. Pretty. Cute enough to pout her away out of trouble and naive enough to slip headfirst into danger.
She needed a rescue. I needed to find the traitor. And once I got Rose to talk, I’d have all the answers and all the ammunition it took to rid Anathema of its betraying desecration.
The smart girls, the good girls, stayed clear of me.
Rose tripped on her way to my altar and offered me Anathema’s redemption. Salvation never looked so beautiful, and damnation never felt so righteous.
“Bring her in,” I said.
The brothers went silent. Scotch softly coughed, waving the smoke from his face.
“Who?” Scotch asked.
“
Rose. Bring her in.”
Keep’s trembling stilled. A moment of shock that sobered him up. “Why?”
“Better safe than sorry. Don’t want anything happening to her, do we?”
“Nothing is going to happen to her.”
“Of course not.” I offered a smile. “Especially not under my watch.”
Brew stilled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“No sense in that. Not if she’s in such danger.”
“She’s our family, we can take care of it,” Brew said.
“Anathema is our family.” I let the word linger. He didn’t blink. “You want her protected? I’ll fucking protect her.”
“She doesn’t need your kind of protecting.” Keep’s jaw flexed.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“She’s a good kid, man. She’s not someone like...” Keep’s hands shook harder. “Like Jocelyn. She’s no whore.”
“I’ll remember that. Any other business?”
Brew’s chair flipped. He stood, staring me down. “We aren’t done here.”
“Do you want her safe or not?” Like they had a choice in her destruction.
“Jesus Christ, Thorne.” He slammed a hand on the table. “Rose is not that kind of girl, and you are exactly that type of man. She needs me to make sure she gets to work and home, not...”
“You think I’m going to hurt your sister?”
“She couldn’t stop you if she wanted.”
I tossed the gavel down. “We’re done. She comes here. End of discussion.”
Keep’s teeth ground audibly from across the room. He rapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Thorne, Exorcist has a hard-on for you. Rose steps anywhere near you and she will become his prime target. Or she’ll get blown away when Ex storms the fucking gates and aims an AK at your bedroom.”
“Ex takes a hit on me and he’ll have full anarchy in the valley,” I said. “He doesn’t have the balls yet. And we’ll take him out before he even gets the idea in his fat head.”
Keep met my gaze for the first time. “I want a vote.”
“I’m offering my services.”
“You don’t have the authority to volunteer our sister into your services.”
I glanced from Gold to Scotch. Both held back their tongues so hard they prepared to choke instead of speak. I waved a hand toward them.
Warlord (Anathema Book 1) Page 5
