by Alexa Riley
4
Violet
“I think the guns you’ve got are good,” Cas says from behind me, making me turn to look at her. I’m a ball of nerves. Excitement and all kinds of other shit I can’t explain are pumping through me, and I don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t know how I kept a straight face in there through it all when I really wanted to jump up and do a fist pump. Then maybe throw up. I’m feeling way too much crap right now.
“Yeah, and I’m good with both of them,” I reply casually, but she just smiles and cocks an eyebrow at me. We still have a few guns in my truck that we’ve been training with, and even with soft plans in place for where we’re going, I’m not one hundred percent sure what I might end up needing. It’s better to have a few to choose from, just in case. I want to be prepared for almost anything.
“You did good, V. With some time, it won’t be so…” she shakes her head like she’s searching for the right word, making her dark ponytail sway with the motion, “…combative.” She snaps her fingers as she says the word, then takes a few steps towards me, her heavy boots crackling on the gravel beneath us. “You go and do this and show everyone you’ve got what it takes. I fucking know you have it. I can see it. Saw that same look once before when I looked in the mirror years ago.”
She points her thumb over her shoulder back to the door of the clubhouse. “I know it probably took a lot for you to play cocky in there, but I promise you, you don’t have to play. You have every right to be cocky. Now go and show everyone you do.”
I can’t stop myself from closing the distance between Cas and me, pulling her in for a hug. It’s taken her some time to get used to my hugs. I know her experiences in growing up were different than mine and my brother’s. We can barely leave a room without someone wanting to pull us into a hug or lay a few pecks on our cheeks. I ate up the attention at home because it was the only place I ever got it. My family was all I had, but hopefully I’ll have this club, too. I’ll have something that’s mine. That I wasn’t born into. Somewhere I can fit in, because I don't seem to fit in anywhere.
Unlike months before, this hug comes easy to her, and she returns it with a hard squeeze. “Don’t forget it’s going to be more difficult to run at a higher elevation than you’re used to. At higher altitudes, like in Colorado, the air is thin, which means you’ll get less oxygen per breath you take. You’ll have to put in a lot more effort and work much harder to run at the same pace you’re used to,” she says before pulling back. “Be careful.”
“You’re worse than my brother,” I tease, trying to relieve a little bit of the emotion floating in the air around us.
“No one is worse than my Vincent.”
“He must be rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, he’s…” I throw my hand up, not wanting her to finish that sentence. She laughs.
“I’ll tell Scribe you went to pack a bag,” she says.
“Thanks.” I give her one last look before I hop into my truck and take off for my apartment. I go through everything that happened. I know Cas had been saying I would get this, but to really have it, to know I have a shot at being a real member of the Ghost Riders, is better than anything I’ve ever accomplished before.
Prospect. I have my freaking foot in the door. I wonder if this is how Vincent felt when he got into the FBI. I feel a tug of guilt at not being able to call him up and tell him about it. I tell him most things. Before Cas, he was my best friend. My only friend, really, and he had to be. I was his little sister. He was stuck with me. The only person who seemed to get me.
When I hit my apartment, I fly up the stairs, unlock my front door, and then kick it closed behind me. I flip on the light and stop short when I see my brother sitting on my couch, arms folded over his chest looking just like my father.
His dark hair is cut short and he’s built like a freaking tank. A very annoyed-looking tank.
“I’m really going to have to take that key back if you’re going to be all creepy and sit in the dark.” I drop my keys and the folder on the table by the front door. “The least you could do is clean or something,” I joke, but he doesn’t even crack a smile. He just stares…and stares.
“So you know.” He tilts his head to the side with a really? look on his still-very-annoyed face. I know Cas didn’t tell him, yet somehow he knows everything. “Mom know?”
He lets out a huff. “Hell, I never know what Mom knows,” he finally says, a little smile pulling at his lips. A really little smile, but I’ll take it over the annoyed look.
“You’re not talking me out of it.” I throw the words out there, just wanting them done with. Might as well get this fight rolling, I need to get going soon. “I’m 21. Hell, you were 18 when—”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, cutting me off and dropping his arms from their folded position on his chest. He places his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and leaving me a little bit shocked.
“If anyone knows what a woman is capable of, it’s me, Violet. I don’t worry about you because you’re a woman. I worry because you’re my baby sister. I came here because I wanted you to know that. That it pissed me off you hadn’t told me on your own by now.”
Guilt hits me hard. Shit, this day is just a ball full of all kinds of emotions. I guess I don’t really have any reason to not have told him. Maybe before Cas, I might have thought he wouldn’t be okay with my hanging with a motorcycle club, what with him being a Fed and all, but it’s clear that isn’t something he gives a shit about. We both know the Ghost Riders are clean. Well, where it counts, anyway.
“I thought you might be disappointed. Wanted me to go like you or Dad. Join the force.”
He lets out a little laugh. “You’ve never done a thing that people expect.” He stands. “I wouldn’t want you to start now.”
I can’t help but smile at that. No, I’ve never done anything like people thought I would. That thought makes something warm take hold in the pit of my stomach because the look on Vincent's face is showing me that this is something that he loves about me.
I close the distance between us and pull him into a hug, which he quickly takes over, engulfing me with his arms, lifting me off the ground a few inches and taking the air right out of my lungs. Then he gently puts me back down on my feet.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife that makes me gasp at the sight.
“Pulled a few strings, but I got it back.” He flips the butterfly knife open and the closes it again. “Thought you might want it.” He holds it out to me.
“It wasn't mine.” I stole that knife from Vincent's room so many times, and he’d always just steal it right back, saying I was going to hurt myself. I loved the damn thing. Something about it. I couldn’t stop playing with it, and it’s where my little knife obsession started. It was where I’d gotten my first taste of blood.
“It was always yours.” He moves his hand closer to me, and I reach out and tentatively take the knife from his palm. I feel the metal against my skin. This time when I hold the knife, there is no fear like there had been the last time I had it.
“How’d you get it back?” I look up at him.
“Called in a favor and got it out of evidence. Not like it matters anyways.” No, it didn't matter. That case was long closed. It closed when they put Frank Steed six feet under and all charges against me were dropped.
Self-defense, they called it. Me, I wasn't so sure. Six years ago and I still remember the day like it was yesterday. Being lured into a cop car on my way home from school. It wasn't hard when the man had said my father’s name, that my dad had asked him to pick me up, but I wasn't taken to my father. I was taken to an abandoned house not four houses down from my own at the time. I can still remember the smell of alcohol coming off the man. I had looked down at his badge with so much confusion, not understanding how a cop could be doing this to me. The things he’d said he was going to do to me, words that were branded into my brain.
I didn’t think, or maybe I d
id.
I didn’t pull the knife to use it to get away from him. I pulled it to kill. Never did escape even enter my mind, and I’d known right where to strike to make sure that happened. I didn’t just stab him once with the blade. I turned it and dragged, watched the light leave his eyes before I pushed him from my body.
When the cops finally came, they had to fight me for the knife. I just couldn’t seem to release it, even when I’d tried. Vincent was the only one who could talk me into handing it over.
We’d never really talked much about that night after it was all said and done. The case closed up tight. The judge said it would never be seen. My name was sealed away with it because I was a minor. The one thing that did change was Vincent started teaching me about knives until I was better than even he was.
I flip it open and then closed again like he did before I slip it into my pocket. The knife means so much more than I think even Vincent knows. It was the day I started to see the world was not black and white. That there were rules that many followed, but I wasn’t so sure they would work for me. I seemed to walk my own line, looked at the world a little differently.
That’s what I like about the Ghost Riders. They don't hide who they are. They don't have a badge that makes you feel safe. They are who they say they are. That day the thought of being a cop like my dad and Vincent slipped away, just like I’d watched the life slip away from the man who’d grabbed me. I knew that day I could never be the one to slap cuffs on someone and take them down to a precinct, to see a judge and to face a jury of peers. I have a feeling I’d have the same reaction I did before.
“Watch your ass,” he tells me. “I’d trust all of them to have my back, and I’m sure Mac has already told you this, but always use your team. You’re built like a team for a reason. If you don’t trust them, you make yourself just as big a danger to them as you’re being to yourself.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to be a part of them if I didn’t think you trusted them,” I tell him, trying to reassure him. If my brother says they’re good people, they are good people.
My phone starts going off like crazy. I pull it from my back pocket, thinking it’s Scribe wondering where the hell I am, but I just see a million texts from my sisters.
Vanessa: You have a boyfriend?!
Valerie: OMG stop lying already and admit it! This is the third time your status has changed.
Victoria: I’ll clean up after next Sunday dinner if you tell me all the details first! Vanessa always knows everything first.
I groan. This is the third time this has happened.
Victoria: Fine. I’ll just ask Vincent. He knows everything :-P
“Shit,” I mumble as I hear Vincent’s phone go off next to me.
“Boyfriend?”
“No,” I cut him off, not wanting to open that can right now. I still need to get packed. “Somehow my relationship status on Facebook keeps going from Single to In a relationship. I don’t even use the freaking thing. Victoria made me get the fucking account.”
“Christ,” Vincent mumbles, and I look up at him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, like he knows what’s going on and just doesn’t want to talk about it. That is fine with me because I need to get gone. “I’ll tell Mom you won’t be at dinner tomorrow. I’ll make something up that won’t have her racing over here to check on you.”
“Thanks.” I lean up and give him a kiss on his cheek.
“Make sure Scribe keeps his hands to himself,” he says as the door closes behind him.
Scribe’s going to be lucky if he has hands by the time we get back, I think to myself as my phone dings again, an unknown number popping up.
I’m downstairs. Get your little ass down here, and bring a bag of frozen peas for my nuts. You can hold them in place for me while I drive.
5
Knox
It took me a few minutes to load all my shit up. I didn’t know exactly what I’d need and wanted to be prepared for anything. By the time I’d gotten outside, Cas had told me Violet had headed to her apartment and I could meet her there, but not before giving me a piece of her mind about keeping my eyes on Violet. Like I could take them off her.
Not needing anyone to tell me where she lived, I headed her way. I knew. Maybe even drove past a couple of times. Okay, maybe not just a couple. A few hundred.
I kept telling myself it was because I was supposed to look into her for the Pres, but I’ve done more than look into her for him. Fuck, in some states I could be hit with felony stalking. There isn’t much I can’t tell you about her, even down to every item she bought at the grocery store two days ago. It is freaky what you can find online if you really want, and this seems to be my new obsession lately. Her.
I decided to take my old 4Runner instead of the chopper because we’ll have a lot of shit. Not only will I be bringing my computer and some of my gear, Violet will be bringing her guns and who knows what else. I’ve also got camping gear in the back, just in case. You never know when you might need to go off the map at any moment.
Before I headed her way though, I took the liberty of changing her Facebook status. Her Facebook was one of the first things I stumbled upon when I looked into her. It had been annoying me every time I looked at it, even though I knew she didn’t go on it. She never showed any activity, and after a few key strokes I could see she never logged into the thing either. The only pictures on there were ones her sisters had tagged her in. Maybe she’ll figure out I did it and get fired up again. Before she kneed me in the balls, I was enjoying her temper.
I don’t know what it was, but when she got all worked up and shot it my way, it did something to me. Or maybe it was just having her attention on me. When she wasn’t pissed at me, all I got was indifference and I fucking hate that shit from her. It eats at me. To everyone else, she was easy laughs and talk, but not to me. I never got that, and it didn’t look like she would be giving it to me anytime soon. My attention just seemed to piss her off. Never even cocked a smile at a joke.
When I get to her place, I send a text right as I see Vincent exit the apartment upstairs, and I know what’s coming. He walks down, straight to my ride, and I roll down the window.
“You got her?” is all he says. A deadly quiet behind the words. It’s how Vincent always is, even when he’s with Cas. He just kind of stands back and watches until he thinks he might need to step in.
I think everyone else thought he might have a problem with his little sister joining the Ghost Riders, but I knew he wouldn’t, even if I wished he had. Fuck, he was with Cas, and she was a member, and he was so fucking proud of her. He wanted everyone to know she belonged to him. That he was the lucky SOB that landed her ass, and I couldn't be happier for Cas because I’d never seen her like she is with him. They worked. And I couldn’t see a man who loved Cas like that and knew what she did and stood by her not do the same for another woman he loved. It was just who he was, and I knew he’d have his sister’s back on whatever road she wanted to go down.
“I got her.” I nod, and an understanding passes between us. I take care of her, or I pay the consequences. He might be willing to let her walk this road, but if she gets hurt on our watch, who knows what hell he’ll make rain down on us. This isn’t an old man telling a club member what to do. This is a brother looking out for his family. And I respect the hell out of Vincent for that.
He walks away without saying anything else. What else is there to say? He said what he had to say and that was that. No sugar-coating it or making threats. He didn’t need to.
After a few moments, I see Violet exit her apartment with a bag over her shoulder. She comes to stand right where Vincent was. She looks as fucking beautiful as she did when she stepped over my ass after nailing me in the dick. All that hair and legs. Both seem to go on forever.
“We can take mine,” she says, looking at her truck.
“I’ve got the camping gear,” I counter. I want to drive. I need some kind of fucking
control here because she isn't going to give me any.
“I’ve got the guns,” she fires right back at me, not budging.
“I like to drive.”
“I like to drive, too.”
I let out a frustrated breath. I don’t know why I feel both annoyed and turned on. I would’ve thought that blow to my cock would have knocked some sense into him, but he clearly doesn't care. “Look, you need to read me all the information Pres gave you in the office and tell me where the fuck we are going and what the fuck we are doing. Can you do that while driving?”
“Yes,” she snaps without even a second of hesitation. She’s showing me that she will fight me on everything. That really isn't going to work if we are going to be a team in this. I need her to listen. She needs to understand that when it comes to some things, she just can’t win, and this is one of them. When it comes to this, I’m in charge. Not that I wouldn’t ask her opinion on some things or listen to what she has to say, but when I give an order, it sticks.
I wait, letting her know I’m not fucking around with this, and finally she rolls her big blue eyes and opens the door to the back seat of my SUV. She tosses in her bag and then grabs her guns out of her truck. I get out and help her load up, making quick work of what she wants to bring. Then she hops into the passenger seat and slams the door in my face. For a second I stand there, wondering what the fuck I was planning on doing. Was I trying to open the door for her?
I just shake my head and walk around to the driver’s side and get in.
“Head west and hop on the 70. We’re going to Colorado,” she says as she opens the file and starts flipping through the pages.
“Hope you packed a coat,” I say, looking over at her. She’s wearing a thin tank top and tight jeans with combat boots. She looks sexy as fuck, and I can’t stop picturing her nipples getting hard in the cold air. “Never mind. Hope you didn’t,” I tease, shooting a smile that seems to do nothing for her.
