by Kati Wilde
“The Riders won’t expend resources to protect her, so I’m getting her out of town.”
“Bullshit.”
Yes. “That’s the reason I’ll give the Notorious Few.”
A speculative gleam comes into his eyes. “They the reason you stayed away from her all this time?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, his gaze hardening. “They a threat to her?”
“Only if they think she’s more to me than Stone’s sister.”
“No problem there.” Wry amusement fills his voice. “You’ve been pretending she isn’t as long as I’ve known you. You just keep on pretending.”
Even if it kills me. “I will.”
The boss nods. “All right. One thing for damn sure, she’ll be safer with you than with anyone else, because there’s nobody who’ll take more interest in protecting her. You’d kill your blood brothers to keep her safe. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I can’t.
“Yeah. I know exactly how that is.” It’s said in the same rough tone he uses whenever he’s talking about Jenny. “So you’re taking her, then. Hell, let her listen around, set her up tending a bar. She might pick up more than you do.”
Not gonna happen. If I have my way, my family won’t even know she’s in the same state. “Anything else?”
He takes a long second to answer, as if deliberating. Finally he says, “That info Blowback is getting from his source in Vegas? The FBI’s got someone looking into the Cage.”
Undercover? “With what club?”
“The Devil’s Hangmen. They’re out of favor with the cartel so his info’s dated, but I’m telling you for two reasons. One, you trade that information if you’re up against a wall. Stone for the cop. Two, try and make sure it doesn’t come to that, because he’s how we’re going to get that trace on her phone when Stone calls. He’s more useful to us alive than dead.”
An undercover fed with the Devil’s Hangmen, who will have a tap on Anna’s phone. “Are the feds going to bust the Cage after she gets the call?”
The prez shakes his head. “Blowback’s source says there’s a leak in the Bureau, and that’s why the assholes running the Cage are always a step ahead. When he gets the location he’ll hold it close to his chest, so no one tips off whoever’s in charge of that show.”
“Or blows his cover.”
“Or that.” The prez’s gaze hardens. “But you’ve gotta assume the more calls she gets, the closer the feds will come, too. And I don’t care how Stone gets home, whether it’s us or the cops breaking him loose. But I’d sure like to know that the bastards who took our brother never get cozy in a cell. I’d rather see them in the ground.”
“I’ll put them there if I can,” I tell him. Especially the bastard who touched Anna. “And their fucking enforcer is dead, either way.”
A sharp nod says he approves of that plan. “Good enough. You got cash?”
“The prize money from last week’s fight.”
“Hit up Old Timer if you need more.”
I nod and head out. Anna’s sitting in the empty restaurant, staring at her phone. “Is this going to help—if he calls?”
“We’ve got friends who can trace the call.”
Doubt darkens the golden brown of her eyes. “Whoever took him has to know there’s a possibility the call will be traced. They’ll cover their tracks.”
“They’ll try.” I’m sure they will. “But it’ll still be more than we had before. And even if we can’t trace it, Stone will have time to think of what to tell you, maybe get a message through. So don’t let that out of your sight.”
“I won’t.” On a deep breath, she stands. “So am I going to be hidden away at the clubhouse? Obviously it won’t be at Jenny’s house”—a wry smile twists her beautiful swollen mouth—“because anyone coming after me might get to her, and Saxon wouldn’t risk that.”
The prez wouldn’t risk anyone getting to Anna, either. “How do you feel about a road trip?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, right now that phone is our strongest hope. And if we hid you away at the ranch, whether you’re at Jenny’s or the clubhouse, there’s a damn good chance you’d miss any call coming in.”
Just like I didn’t get that picture of her taped up last night until I got some goddamn reception.
“Oh.” With a grimace, she clutches the phone to her chest. “That’d be bad.”
“Real fucking bad. And we could hide you away on the ranch and keep the phone here in town, but fuck knows what’ll happen if you aren’t the one who answers. They might think you handed it over to the cops.”
“Also bad.”
“Yeah.” I step closer and watch awareness flare in her eyes, feel it race through my veins like fire. Christ. I need to get this under control. Everything I say, everything I do can’t look like anything but a man watching out for his friend’s little sister. “But we don’t want you so easy to find if that fucker comes looking again. One solution is to get you out of town. And me, I’m heading out of town. So the answer about where you ought to go is real damn obvious.”
Her lips part and she stares up at me. “With you.”
“That’s right.”
She takes a deep, slow breath. Then another. “Okay.”
“You sure?” Because it took a damn long time for her to work up to that Okay. “It doesn’t fit in with your plan to kick me out of your life.”
And I’m a dick for even saying it. I know she’s not going to run around hooking up with a bunch of assholes, looking for a future while Stone’s future is uncertain. But she might look for someone to console her. To hold her through any rough nights.
Better she knows now that even though I’m not a part of her plans for the future, I’m the only one she can go to. Soon, I’ll be the only one she’ll ever go to.
Her eyes are suddenly huge, dark and wounded. “I’m sure. Because I’d rather be safe and have a future where I’m totally alone than have no future at all.”
Yeah, I’m a fucking dick. “You won’t be alone.”
Anna nods, but her expression is sad and tired as she averts her eyes. Jesus, I can’t bear that look. Gently I lift my fingers to her face, trace the line of her jaw. Her gaze raises to mine, searching my eyes. I’ve got to be careful here. So careful. I can’t get in the habit of touching her. Even though nothing in my life ever felt so damn good.
But touching her in this tender way around my family might fuck up any chance of finding Stone. Losing him would hurt Anna more than anything my family could do to her. I won’t be the reason for any more of her pain.
I withdraw my hand, shoving my fists into the pockets of my jeans. “We ought to get going.”
Her voice is husky as she asks, “What about Daisy?”
“Probably best to leave her at your folks’ place.” On the road, there’s too many strangers, too many unfamiliar surroundings. And fuck knows if Anna and I have to take off quick, Daisy might be left behind. “We’ll be driving my truck down, but I’ll be taking my ride, too—and there’s no place for a dog on a bike.”
“Yes,” she says, then bites her lip and glances away with a stricken look on her face.
Oh hell. I know what that is. “You worried about seeing your parents?”
“Yes.” It’s a strained whisper.
And I can’t help myself. I cup her jaw again, sweep my thumb over her cheekbone, but my gaze touches the bruise on the other side. “We’ll go to your place, pack up your stuff, then head to your parents’. And I’ll be there with you. All right?”
On a shuddering breath, she nods against my palm. “All right.”
17
Gunner
About an hour south of Pine Valley, Anna asks, “So where are we heading?”
I glance over. She’s been quiet since we left Daisy at her parents’ house, where it went just as badly as we both knew it would. Seeing their girl had been hurt tore up both Clara and Paul.
And it went bett
er than I thought it would, because Anna clung to my hand the entire time, using me for support as she told the truth as far as she could—saying the girl Stone was with ended up being more trouble than he thought, and that same trouble showed up at Anna’s place the night before. And that now I’ll be watching over her until the trouble is taken care of.
I suspect they’d have packed up and tried to come with us if we hadn’t pressed Daisy onto them. Having Stone’s dog to take care of gave them a way to help their son, gave them some way to be useful—and as it was, Paul wouldn’t let us leave until he whipped up a few sandwiches and put together a lunch for us to eat on the road.
Then we left her family and headed toward mine—families that are a hell of a lot farther apart from each other than the miles can measure. Still exhausted and looking guilty as hell, Anna curled up in the passenger seat with her head pillowed against her rolled-up coat and her phone in her lap.
I thought she’d go to sleep. Instead she’s looking at me, asking where we’re going. That doesn’t surprise me. What surprises me is,
“You waited until now to ask?”
She smiles faintly. “Before I found out I’d be going with you, I assumed your answer would be ‘club business.’ And after I found out I’d be going…I didn’t want to know, in case I’d have to lie to my parents. I think they’re assuming Arizona. And that’s a hell of a drive, but I guess you can’t fly with those guns.”
No, I couldn’t. With my bike, either. “We’re heading to Santa Rosa.”
“California?” She blinks. “Do you think that’s where Stone is?”
“No. My family lives in the area.”
“Your family,” she echoes and I can feel her astonished gaze without even glancing over. “Really?”
“Yup.”
“And are you going to add anything to that? Or are you going to just drop that bomb and leave it there?”
I’d like to leave it there and never touch it again. Never let her touch it, either. But her response from last night wrapped around my heart like barbed wire. Her response to whether she loved me.
I don’t think I even know you.
I can’t look to a future with her yet. Not until we get Stone back. But in the meantime, I’ll give her enough that she’ll start thinking of me as a future, too. I need to start building that foundation by letting her know me.
But, Jesus. Instead of falling for me, the shit I’ve got to tell her might send her running the other way.
“They’re a motorcycle club—”
“Your family is a club?”
“Kind of. And they might have info about the Iron Blood and the Cage.”
She twists to look at the motorcycle mounted in the bed of the truck. “You can’t just visit and ask? Because your bike, all those weapons—it looks like you’re going in for a long haul.”
That’s what it needs to look like to convince them I’m staying. “It might take a little while,” I tell her. “It’s complicated.”
“Do you hate them or do they hate you?”
That came out of nowhere. I shoot her a glance, find her watching me steadily. “What?”
“Well, you never talk about them. And if anyone asks, you change the subject. Plus you never visit them, do you?”
“I try not to.”
“See? You don’t like being there. Why?”
I don’t even know where to start. Hands clenched on the steering wheel, I search for somewhere to begin. But there’s nothing I want to share with her. Hell, there’s nothing I want to dredge up whether I’m sharing or not. I prefer to get by not thinking of them at all.
“Zach.” She’s using my real name. Shit. If I don’t answer her soon, I’m going to have a seriously pissed-off Anna to deal with. “You say they are a motorcycle club. You say you don’t like being around them. I imagine you’re going to keep me away from them—”
“I’m going to try.”
“—but I need to know what I’ll be dealing with. Just in case. Because being taken by surprise really sucks.”
She touches the bruise on her cheek as if to remind me of the last surprise she got.
I don’t need a reminder. And she does need to know. Not just because I want to build a future—but because even if I try to keep her away from my family, the chances of making it through this without them seeking her out is zero.
Fuck. Might as well just get it over with. “It’s a club but it’s not a normal one,” I tell her. “That’s just how it all shook out after my father started identifying as an outlaw biker about thirty years ago.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s a cult.”
“A cult?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yup.”
“A religious cult?”
“No.”
“Do they think aliens are coming?”
“No.”
“You know, you could help me out here.” Her voice is a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“More like…the Manson Family. If my father was Charles Manson.”
She sucks in a breath. “With his followers going around murdering people?”
“Not quite. But a lot of the same thinking behind it.” Maybe even inspired by Manson. The timing would have been right, and fuck knows my father got inspired—energized—by all kinds of shit. “Believing that the end was coming, that a race war will destroy civilization. My dad wasn’t looking to start that war, though. More like survive it and establish a new world order, populated by a pure race that could live in peace.”
“Jesus,” she whispers.
“Nah. His cult is a lot better than my father’s.”
Her grin flashes. “What’s your dad like?”
“Dead.” Cut down like a tree by his own seed. “In body at least. For my mother, his spirit and his purpose live on in her boys. We all look just like him.”
“You’re kidding,” she says.
“No.”
“That answers every single question I have, then. Like, why would a cult spring up around him? Was he that charismatic? Nope, he just looks like a freaking god.”
Shit. I laugh, shaking my head. Some of my tension eases. My family’s fucked up, but she’s taking it in stride—not running the other way.
“So how many Cooper men are there?”
“I have four brothers.” Still living. “Christ knows how many nephews now, too. But they’re all still kids.”
“Then are your brothers the only members of the MC?”
“No. My father collected followers.” Women, easily. My mother was always the female at the head of the pack, but men followed him, too—partially because the women around my father were available, partially because they liked what he was saying. “He started back in the 70s as the leader of a free love clan—they had a commune on my mother’s family farm—but that era was winding down and he knew he needed to evolve. Then he read Hunter Thompson’s book about the Hell’s Angels and liked what it had to say. About living free and being your own man and fuck the world. So he formed a club and put himself up as prez.”
“It sounds a lot like how the Hellfire Riders started.”
With Tommy Burns and his friends, including Red Erickson and Thorne. “No. They wanted to ride and fuck. It wasn’t about creating a dynasty. The Riders are a brotherhood. The Notorious Few was about my father delivering a new world—and that’s how they talk about it, too. About him predicting the end of the hippie era and having the insight to understand how they had become Lotus-Eaters instead of revolutionaries, and how he envisioned a new path. About the string of coincidences that led him to Thompson’s book and how that’s proof of his destiny. And now it’s about his sons leading the way.”
“Some might say that’s a real brotherhood. Like, literally one.”
“My family would say it is.” For a long time, I thought it was. “But I’ve been in the Marines and the Hellfire Riders. I know what brotherhood is. I know what a
brother is.”
I don’t need to name names. Her smile tells me she knows I’m talking about Stone.
She regards me, her eyes curious. “So if your father’s dead, what’s holding it together?”
“His bloodline—and my mother. It’s a cult, like I said. Those commune roots never went away and my brothers have bought into this idea that a race war’s coming and that there was something special about our old man. That they’ve got a legacy to carry on.”
“So who’s leading them now?”
“My oldest brother, if you ask them.”
Her brows arch. “And if I ask you?”
“My mother.” I glance at Anna. God, the way she’s looking at me, I should have started talking to her like this long ago. There’s no judgment. Only genuine interest, as if I’m the most fascinating man she’s ever seen.
Then again, that’s no surprise. Working the bar, she’s always drawn people in and had them spilling their guts. And it’s probably best I didn’t spill anything before. Because what I’d be spilling was how much I want her lips on mine, tasting her instead of talking. How much I want her sitting on the bar and my head between her thighs. How bad I need to be inside her.
Christ. I shift in my seat, but there’s no position that’s going to ease the ache in my cock.
Talking about my mother might do it, though. “Maybe she was the driving force behind my father the whole time and was just good at staying in his shadow. Or he was the flame who drew all the moths and she was the one who kept pouring in the kerosene. Because she’s still keeping that flame lit—even though, despite all of us looking like him, we’re not like him. Aside from our faces, we only got bits and pieces.”
“What do you mean?”
“That charisma he had, it’s a hell of a lot of things—all the traits that draw people in. So he was smart, funny, persuasive, charming as hell. And he was kind, generous—especially if it meant people would feel obligated to him afterward.”
“And let me guess—combined with his looks, that all made him as sexy as fuck?” Anna puts in, her gaze sweeping down my length.
That, too. I grew up seeing the way people looked at him. Seeing how obsessed some of them became. “He drew in both men and women with it. But that charisma’s also all those traits that hold people captive, make them fall in line. The way he could tear someone down, the way he’d threaten and carry a threat through. The way he’d get pissed and rage, and how he had this icy anger that was just fucking terrifying. So my brothers, some have a few of those traits. The others have a few different traits. Like Adam, he’s got the rage. He can be generous. But he’s sure as hell not smart. No one has the whole package.”
