Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  Bishop scoffed. There were certain things you never questioned. I couldn’t help but grin as he turned, the lights shining out from the clubhouse, highlighting the deviance in his eyes.

  There was a reason he was our president.

  Drew and Ian were already moving, ushering partygoers back inside, someone inside turning the music up a little louder, isolating the area we were standing in.

  “Missy, go inside,” I ordered.

  “But—”

  “Inside. Someone will show you to my room.”

  “Come on.” Blue pressed a hand to Missy’s back, a move that had my fists clenching at my sides. My brother caught the movement, the corner of his mouth curling as he directed her back toward the clubhouse. She pushed against him for a moment, her lips open just a breath.

  I raised my eyebrows, daring her to fucking say something.

  Missy finally pursed her lips.

  She was smart.

  Because she knew while this had started with her, it had now become a club matter.

  And in that, she had no say.

  “Weak?” Bishop chuckled, looking over his shoulder at me, his brow raised as if he was questioning whether he was really about to fucking do this and whether she was worth the shit he was about to stir. Gritting my teeth, I nodded, and he didn’t miss a beat. “He’s all fucking yours, Hawk.”

  “We had a deal.”

  “You put your hand on one of my girls.”

  Not just anyone.

  “She’s a fucking whor—”

  It was almost as though my hand moved on its own, reaching for my gun from inside my club cut. My aim was perfect, though we were at almost point-blank range of the target. A mixture of Robert’s painful roar and the ground shaking when he landed, a bang rattled and echoed through the night air, bouncing off the buildings as it vibrated up and down the city streets. Robert sobbed, lighting up the night with cuss words and falling to his knees. His eyes were wide in horror as he held his hand out in front of him, a bloody hole in his palm.

  I crouched, putting my face at his level. “I don’t give a shit if she’s your fucking mama,” I spat, my nose crinkling as I watched his blood spill onto the stones. “You don’t put your hands on a woman. Fucking. Ever. Especially not her,” I growled in disgust, having to fight the urge to keep from pulling the trigger again when I thought about the uneasy, pained look in Missy’s fucking eyes.

  And this fucker was paying the price for putting it there.

  I ignored Cain’s silent smirk as I pushed to my feet.

  “Get him the hell out of my compound,” Bishop ordered, the arctic tone in his voice a sure signal he was ready to shove his gun up someone’s ass just to watch the bullets fly out their mouth if they didn’t move fast enough.

  The four security guys left were clambering over each other to get to their buddy, who was now writhing and squirming like the fucking little worm he was, his buddies grabbing random limbs as they attempted to heave his fat ass toward their cars.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if this comes back to my club.”

  The group paused, inhaling the warning, their faces paling.

  It was clear.

  Clearer than fucking clear.

  Someone asks what happened, the answer was simple—the bastard tripped and fucking fell.

  I didn’t feel a single ounce of regret. The asshole got exactly what he deserved. Who knew how many fucking women he’d treated like shit before this? Who the hell knew how he’d have treated the girls at Backroad—girls he was meant to be protecting. Maybe getting rid of him now actually saved someone’s life.

  Thank fuck.

  Bishop stepped up beside me, both of us staring back at the clubhouse and the party that seemed to be carrying on like normal. Like a guy hadn’t just been shot twenty feet away. “You’re gonna find me a new security team.”

  “I’ll call in some nomads. Between them and us, we should be able to handle it for a few weeks.”

  The boys at the club were busy.

  We had other shit to do.

  Other businesses to run, which was the point in hiring outside for security. Nomads were club members who didn’t call one place home. They traveled, going where they were needed, sometimes for days, for weeks, or even months.

  I’d sort it.

  I had to, given I’d just made an incredibly important decision.

  “You sure she’s worth it?” Bishop questioned as we made our way back inside, apprehension furrowing his brow.

  My eyes were drawn to the stairs at the end of the clubhouse. I didn’t live here all the time, choosing to stay in the house I grew up in for the most part, but I had a room here.

  And I knew Blue had put her in it.

  “You always told me I’d just know.”

  When he heard those words, his response was simple. “Then you better go check on your girl.”

  8

  MISSY

  My fingertips traced along the wall, scared that the pain might get worse, and I’d lose my footing.

  The bedroom Blue had guided me into was sparse with nothing much other than a fluffy bed that looked like it’d been freshly made, a set of drawers, and a chair. Thankfully, it had a connecting bathroom because with each wave of pain, I wondered whether I was going to lose my dinner.

  But more importantly than that, it had water.

  I needed cold water.

  That was what was going to soothe the burn.

  At least I hoped.

  I’d already stripped off my sky-high heels, refusing to also break my ankle tonight if I fell, but when I finally made it into the bathroom, I furiously tugged at the button on my shorts and ripped the zipper open.

  I sucked in a deep breath, holding it captive in my lungs as I slowly attempted to slide them down my legs without having them brush against my thigh.

  It was impossible.

  “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, holding my breath for ten seconds to try and ride out the wave of nausea.

  Round two, I managed to get my pants around my ankles. I shuffled back from the mirror and turned, my entire body cringing as I looked over my shoulder and eyed the almost inch-wide circular burn that now decorated the back of my thigh.

  I pinched my eyes closed, squeezing out a couple of tears as I tried to convince myself to get in the shower. It felt like the back of my leg was on fire. I needed to cool down the burn. It would ease the sting and keep it from getting infected. Though the longer I looked, a realization hit me that it would need to be washed to get the ash and crap out.

  And who the hell knew what else Robert had burned into my damn skin when he’d tried to shove his fucking hand between my legs.

  I should have known better.

  I know these types of guys.

  I can read them, but my brain was too fucking focused on one man in particular.

  I should have known better.

  I knew how shit worked.

  I should have kept my mouth shut.

  Played his little game and walked away.

  The result—no security for Tuesday night.

  How much trouble was I in now? I wasn’t sure.

  “You in pain?”

  I gasped, grabbing the wall to keep me steady. Did I tell him? Did I just excuse myself and handle it on my own? It was my fucking mistake, my stupid pride that had now cost the club.

  “Don’t fucking bullshit me, baby.”

  I hated that he could read me that well. “Yeah.”

  He pushed off the bathroom door frame. His gaze stern and dark. “Where?”

  Sucking in a slow, deep breath, I turned.

  It didn’t take him long.

  “That a fucking burn?” he seethed, the air changing as he stepped up behind me and crouched down. His fingers brushed the side of my thigh, and I gasped, my hands curling into tight fists. “This why you slapped the fucktard outside?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked before cl
earing my throat. “Idiot tried to shove his hand between my legs with a cigar in his hands.”

  “It needs to be under cold water. Now!” I was already shaking my head before he could even finish, but my objections were clearly ignored as he got to his feet and placed his hands on my hips. “Get in the bath.”

  The order was sharp.

  Demanding.

  He shuffled past me to the bathtub, proudly sitting on the other side of the room.

  I braced my hands on the sink, leaning into it so I didn’t have to put as much pressure on my leg. “You have a bath,” I commented, a breathy chuckle following.

  He turned just a single tap—the cold one—letting me know this wasn’t going to be pleasant or fucking relaxing. No lit candles, no book to read. He checked the temperature with his hand, unsuccessfully hiding the cold shudder before he turned to face me again. “Most of the boys asked for them when this place was renovated about seven years ago,” he answered, slipping his club colors off his shoulders and catching it in his hands. “After riding for hours, we want to rest our muscles, not stand in a fucking shower.”

  “Right.” I nodded, gritting my teeth.

  “I’m gonna call someone. We’ll get the pain under control, then it’ll need to be cleaned.” His cell phone was already to his ear, murmuring quietly so I couldn’t hear him over the rush of the water.

  I knew he was right.

  I needed to get the burn under some cold water, then get it washed, or I was going to be dealing with one hell of a fucking painful infection in a day or so.

  Unfortunately, I also knew it was going to hurt like hell.

  I could feel the contents of my stomach surging as Hawk stepped around me, placing his hands on my hips and helping me out of my shorts before shuffling us toward the bath.

  “Hawk,” I protested, blinking through the tears that I could feel beginning to burn my eyes. “I hate that I’ve made a strange habit of fucking crying around you.”

  “I think it’s cute.”

  “You fucking do not.”

  When we reached the side of the bath, his hands went to his jeans. A single flick of his belt and they pooled at his feet. He kicked them to the side and reached for his black T-shirt, grabbing the back of the neck and pulling it forward. The scrap of fabric joined his colors on the hook on the back of the bathroom door.

  He then stood with me, his body something that should be on magazines or in goddamn porn, and his Calvin Klein’s doing nothing to hide the curve at the front.

  My heart didn’t know what to do, but I knew between the burn and the way I couldn’t stop admiring the man in front of me, the amount of adrenaline that must have been coursing through my veins at that moment should’ve killed me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re getting in the bath,” he answered, leaning over to turn the tap off before stepping into the water. Once he had both feet in, he held out his hand to mine, holding me steady while I lifted my burned leg first, the raw injury screaming.

  With both feet in, Hawk turned me so my back was pressed to his chest, and we slowly sunk into the water.

  The shock of the cold hit me instantly, stealing my breath for a second. My brain’s natural reaction was to get the hell out, escape the cold and find somewhere fucking warm to hide.

  I attempted an escape, but Hawk’s arms circled my waist, pulling my body against his chest and holding me tight as my legs touched the water. “Holy crap,” I sobbed, trying to fight through the cold water and the pain and hope like fucking hell for some kind of respite.

  I was okay with pain.

  I’d been through enough of it to know my tolerance was pretty damn high.

  But this.

  Fuck.

  I knew it needed water, that was what was best for it, but the second they met, my stomach tightened. I pressed my lips tightly closed as vomit threatened to spill out straight into the bath.

  Instead, I cried.

  I fucking cried.

  I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed there with Hawk holding me, pressing his lips across the curve of my shoulder, making soothing noises like I’d make to Kadey when she was upset. I tried to focus on him, letting my breathing fall in time with his and allowing myself to ease back into his chest. He dipped his hand into the water, then brushed it back over my hair. “That feels good,” I murmured, not realizing how hot my face was from the tears and stress. “Always surprising me, Swayze.”

  His chuckle rustled me a little. “I need you to remember how good I am to you.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re all set, Hawk,” a voice announced from the doorway. “When you’re ready.”

  He was gone just as quickly as he appeared, his white coat the only indicator as to what was about to happen.

  “Hawk…” I edged nervously.

  “Dr. Yates is going to clean your burn and wrap it if need be.”

  My face grew hotter instantly, my heart kickstarting that next round of adrenaline. “It’s gonna hurt.”

  “Yeah, baby,” he answered, no softness or easing me into it. Instead, his hand curled tighter around my waist, his mouth skimming my neck as he spoke. “We get this cleaned, get you wrapped up, some pain meds, then take you home.”

  Take you home.

  Not, stay here where I can watch you.

  Not, look out for you.

  Make sure you’re okay.

  “Right,” I agreed with a sharp nod. “I need to get home.”

  I wonder if whatever painkiller he’s going to give me will be strong enough to ease this strange pain in my chest.

  9

  HAWK

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  My entire body jerked awake like one of those dreams you get when you’re falling, and your body hits the ground.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Blinking past the sleepy haze, I caught sight of the alarm clock beside the bed.

  Seven-thirty.

  Jesus Christ.

  Sighing heavily, I slipped my arm out from underneath Missy’s head, my body aching at the first time I’d moved in hours. She’d gone to sleep with her head on my chest and her leg thrown over the top of mine. It was obviously a position that didn’t stretch her burn or make it hurt, so I let her sleep that way for the entire night, just happy she was getting some fucking rest.

  I was going to pay for it in my neck and shoulders today, though.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Dammit,” I cursed under my breath, finally detangling myself and throwing my legs over the side of the bed, hopping toward the bedroom door while trying to pull on my jeans. I checked back over my shoulder for just a second, satisfied Missy hadn’t been disturbed by the incessant knocking before I pulled the door shut behind me and stomped across the living room to address the motherfucker who was pounding.

  I flicked open four locks before reaching for the handle, making a mental note to find out what kind of area this was and why Missy would feel the need to lock the place up like it was fucking Fort Knox.

  What I wasn’t expecting was the older lady on the other side of the door and Kadey standing at her side holding a pink backpack. The lady grabbed Kadey, pulling her back a step, her eyes narrowing on me. “Who the hell are you?” she snapped, her hand resting on the kid’s shoulder protectively.

  Before I could answer, Kadey’s face brightened with a smile, and she pointed up at me. “Hawk!” she wiggled her little body, detangling herself from the lady’s grasp and rushing at me. “We play now?”

  I smirked, tugging at one of her tiny pigtails before curling my finger under her chin. “Soon, baby girl.”

  “Where’s Missy?” the lady questioned as Kadey clung to my leg, her shoulders relaxing now that she could see I wasn’t some stranger.

  “She’s still asleep,” I answered, hefting the kid up onto my hip. “She had a… rough night last night, so she needs a lot of rest.”

  The way her shoulders sagged let me know it wasn’t exactly
what the woman wanted to hear, but she nodded. “I have to go meet my daughter, but I can take Kadey with me for a few hours.”

  The kid gripped tighter, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I stay you,” she announced loudly, her bottom lip extending.

  “She’ll be fine here with me,” I agreed, silence settling between us as she eyed me from head to toe, making me feel like I should’ve put a fucking shirt on, but also having me wondering if I was going to have to fight some old lady with a cane just so she’d let the kid stay here.

  She tugged her handbag higher on her shoulder. “I’ll check in when I get back after lunch,” she conceded, but just when I thought that was it, she added, “You don’t want to know what will happen if you do anything to hurt these two girls. I may look old and fragile, but I know people.”

  Any kind of response was lost on my tongue, not that she allowed me time to fucking find one as she turned and walked away, shuffling down to the elevator without looking back.

  “Well, she’s fucking scary.” Kadey giggled, wriggling her body until I put her down on her feet. She rushed inside, dumping her little bag at the door and making a beeline for her mom’s room. “Woah there, kiddo. Freeze!”

  She stopped. Her arms paused mid-run.

  “You need to let Mama rest,” I told her, scooping her up under one arm and depositing her on one of the tall stools at the kitchen counter. “You had breakfast?”

  “Nope.”

  “You want some?”

  “Yup.”

  I fished some cereal out of the cupboard and the last few drops of milk from the fridge, placing it down in front of her before stepping into the living room and switching on the television.

  “Simpsons!” she crowed loudly at the bright cartoon.

  “Your mama lets you watch The Simpsons?” I questioned with a raised brow, wondering whether I should change it. What the fuck did I know about what was appropriate for children and what wasn’t? Kids weren’t exactly my forté. I didn’t do well with whining or tantrums, though Kadey seemed different.

  The kid nodded enthusiastically and instantly shoved the biggest scoop of Frosted Flakes into her mouth. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get the spoon stuck in there.”