Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  “You and Magenta?” Beast hedged. “How’d you leave it?”

  Quake grinned. “She wants to see me again.”

  “You owe me twenty bucks.”

  Inferno groaned, tugging out his wallet and slapping the bill in Beast’s outstretched palm. “The son-of-a-bitch is dating one of Belle’s girls. Fucking premium pussy.”

  Hearing him talk about Magenta that way pissed Quake off. A growl rising in his throat, he turned on their Vice President. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

  “You hooked up with her now?”

  Turning to the new voice, the three men eyed their President. Stone stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame with his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

  Quake nodded. “Yeah.”

  Heaving a breath, their President sighed. “No fucky-fucky until after you win the fight for us in New York. I don’t care how many times you bang her after that, but you don’t touch her until after we come back on Thanksgiving.”

  Great. He was going to get a case of blue balls. “Fine,” Quake grated.

  Beast slapped him on the back. “Cheer up! Think of all that pent up energy you’ll have. She won’t be able to walk for days by the time you’re done.”

  And how many other men would she have slept with by then? The disconcerting thought left a bitter taste in Quake’s mouth. Her job had never bothered him before. Why was he starting to have a problem with it now?

  “I need you and Rock training,” Stone reminded him, observing him intently. “You both need to be at your best for this.”

  “If a pretty head turns Quake soft, I don’t mind taking his place in the next fight after New York,” Ryder announced, padding into the room.

  Bristling at the comment, Quake raised his chin in challenge. “Ain’t nothing going soft here.”

  “You mean nothing but your cock now that Magenta isn’t here,” Beast chuckled.

  Ignoring the jibe, their President responded to Quake. “Good, because I have a mission for you, Inferno, and Wraith,” Stone informed him. “Something to keep your mind off that piece of tail and put some distance between you.”

  Quake didn’t like the sound of that. “What mission?”

  “Some of the women we rescued don’t have packs or families. They’re loners. Strays. Doc knows a place, a haven where they’ll be looked after and protected. I need you to take them there. Make sure the jackals don’t try snatching them on the way.”

  “It’s just a little road trip,” Inferno joined in. “We’ll be taking Doc’s RV.”

  “See that you bring it back in one piece,” Stone warned. “I don’t need you trashing it.”

  “As long as the jackals steer the fuck clear, we’ll be good,” Quake swore. “When do we leave?”

  “Go, shower, get dressed,” Inferno told him. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. If all goes well, we’ll be back before lunch.”

  Dismissed, Quake left the kitchen and headed upstairs. The second he stepped into his room, the scent of Magenta assailed him. It was everywhere. On his sheets, on the pillows, in the air. Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes for a moment. It was so fucking intoxicating. He almost hated to shower and wash it off his skin but he did it anyway.

  Stone had given him a job to do, and he couldn’t afford the distraction.

  Nine days, he told himself. Only nine days of doing without. Surely he could manage. He’d be gone for most of it, too busy fighting to miss his red maned wolf.

  Maybe he could pick something up for Magenta while he was in the Big Apple. Do some Christmas shopping and get her a gift. He knew she liked movies about giant robots and loved that car of hers. If he could find something personal, it would make it more special.

  The idea stuck with him while he showered, dried off, and dressed. He wanted to give Magenta something he knew she would appreciate. A present that would always remind her of him.

  Inferno and Wraith were waiting in the common room when he made it downstairs. A lot of clubs displayed their bikes like the prized possessions they were but theirs were parked in a garage, protected from the desert sand and Nevada sun. Strapping on their helmets, they popped their kickstands, pushed them outside, and started them up, heading out with Inferno in the lead and Quake and Wraith following.

  Doc was waiting for them when they got to his place. Quake didn’t know what to expect, but there were only four females left to transport. Doc gave them verbal directions and the coordinates to plug into their phones. “I don’t ever put it in the RV’s GPS,” he explained. “Just in case. The Grove is off the radar and we work to keep it that way.”

  Inferno had experience driving rigs, so they put him behind the wheel. They’d planned on having Wraith ride in the back, knowing his true voice would calm the women’s fears if they needed him to use it.

  That left Quake to ride shotgun in front and watch for trouble.

  Doc caught his arm to give him last-minute instructions, he thought. “Everyone who was rescued has been tested for STDs,” he told him quietly. “I’ll let you know if you need to be tested too.”

  Christ.

  Quake grimaced. “You know.”

  Doc crooked a half-grin. “Not by design. I was doing rounds last night, checking on my patients, and, well, she wasn’t alone. Didn’t take much to figure who was keeping her company with your bike still out front and you nowhere around. Then you two left together . . .”

  “Thanks, Doc. For everything. We couldn’t have saved them without you. We’ll see that these last few get to where they’re going and get Molly back to you.”

  Doc had named his earth-toned RV after the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Quake wasn’t about to say anything when their bikes all had names too.

  The trip to The Grove was blessedly uneventful. The women were quiet. Grateful. A bit nervous, but Inferno talked to them. Told them what they had to look forward to. Assured them that they were going to love it there and could stay however long they needed.

  Located north of Lake Mead, The Grove was a working orchard and farm, offering shelter for shifter women without families who needed somewhere they could stay safe and learn a range of life skills. Nestled in a valley with artesian wells and natural springs for irrigation, the commune was self-sufficient, supporting itself by what it produced. Colored wool sheep and alpacas provided wool for their spinners and weavers. They raised prawns in tanks, fish in their lake, and vegetables in fields and hydroponic greenhouses. Their orchards had a variety of fruit trees and bushes. Beehives produced honey and beeswax. There were acres of flowers for commercial production, providing cut flowers that were bundled and sold and fields of sunflowers in season. With fall harvest done, there were only stubby rows of stalks to mark where crops had been.

  A community of artisans and homesteaders who lived a sustainable lifestyle.

  Wraith made it sound like a paradise.

  And it probably was, but they weren’t allowed to see it. The owner, Frankie James, met them at the gate and refused to let them go beyond the first house. “No men here,” she explained, unapologetic. “Doc comes when we need him, but other than that, it’s women and children.”

  The Dragons had no problem handing them over. The way that Wraith had built it up, the women couldn’t wait to leave the RV and get on with the rest of their lives. Quake admired Frankie for her altruism. He’d love to know her story and how her mission had grown into what he was seeing, but she was already ushering her newest chicks into the henhouse and he was eager to get home.

  He just hoped Madam Belle was looking after Magenta half as well as Frankie James was watching out for the shifters here.

  15

  “You just sit back and relax, sweetie,” Madam Belle crooned. “Take the night off, or two nights—whatever time you need before going back to work. Just so you know, your car’s safe at home, and your purse is in your room. Amos found it under the front seat with your phone. He drove Bee in for you after we found her in the ditch and y
ou were gone. Christ. I’m so sorry.”

  Time.

  Rory considered what that meant. She’d spent four years in college. Fostered dreams of building her own business. Instead, she spent minutes on the stage and hours on her back pleasing men for money.

  One night in a pit had made her reevaluate everything. What she wanted. How to get it.

  Working at The Pole Barn was supposed to be the means to an end, but she’d almost lost her life because of it. The trauma she’d suffered and her narrow escape had opened her eyes, making her look at everything in a new light.

  And she didn’t like what she was seeing.

  “I think I need it,” she told Madam Belle. “Maybe a day or two from the stage, but it may take me longer to go back upstairs.”

  She was already dreading the thought of sleeping with other men. None of them could compare to Quake. None of them made her feel more of a woman, less of a whore. But she couldn’t tell Belle that. Let her think she was gun shy after being raped and abused.

  Rory thought she was keeping it together pretty well until The Pole Barn came into view and her head started to spin. Breath seized in her chest. She felt her heart squeeze.

  “Magenta! You’re safe, sweetheart. You’re safe. It’s okay. Breathe, girl! Breathe for mama. Come on now, chickee. You’re just having a little panic attack. I’ve seen it before. You’ll work through this. There’s help if you need it. Amos knows a counselor. I can get you a referral. Just say the word.”

  Clenching her hands until the overwhelming sensation passed, Rory released a breath. “He does?”

  Belle smiled. “He gets a lot of abuse from unfriendly customers and needs to deal with those feelings and he doesn’t handle rejection well. Listen, I’m not going to kick you out, sweetheart, if you don’t want to go back upstairs with customers. If you still want to dance, you can go back on stage when you’re ready. If not, I can find you work behind the bar or something.”

  Rory searched the lovely face of her boss. Belle always looked out for the women in her employ. Even now, she wasn’t about to abandon one of her own.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “That means a lot to me.”

  “You’re family,” Belle insisted, shaking off her gratitude. “And we stick together. I keep in contact with everyone who’s worked for me. All the ones who’ve left. They know I’m here if they need me, and that goes the same for you. Don’t let the bastards who took you break you, Magenta. Don’t give them that.”

  Blinking back tears, Rory swallowed the thickness in her throat. “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  Belle headed for the shed they used as a garage and parked in her usual spot. “Now, let’s get you inside and settled. I want you to rest. If you need anything—anything at all, you just ask.”

  Rory was surprised to find the other women up and waiting for her with anxious and worried faces. When she entered the kitchen, Candy burst into tears of relief. Before Rory could say anything, she found herself being hugged by each of them.

  “We were so scared for you,” Candy sniffed. “When the gargoyles found your car . . .”

  “We’re never letting you out of our sight again,” Cynde insisted. “That could have been any one of us.”

  “I’ve permanently banned all jackals from The Pole Barn,” Madam Belle informed them. “The magical barrier around the house has been extended around the club. No one with bad intent can enter either building. It may thin the crowd a bit, but I won’t have any of you hurt or kidnapped again.”

  That was a relief to Rory. It would make things easier and safer for them even if they lost some business.

  She was swept up in the chatter and the love of the women around her. They all had something to say.

  Belle let them each have a turn but when they started on a second round, she put her fingers in her lips and whistled loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Magenta needs to rest,” she reminded them, “and you girls need to sleep. I don’t want to see bags under those eyes when you’re on tonight. Now scoot!” she shooed them, watching until the last ones were out the door and upstairs.

  “You’ve got the night off if you need it,” Belle told her. “Go to bed. Get some rest. Knowing gargoyles, that Quake had you up most of the night. See how you feel when you wake up and let me know. Go on, now. I’m going back to sleep too.”

  As late as they worked, this was still bedtime for Madam Belle’s girls. Rory followed her upstairs, her footsteps flagging. She was wiped out, she realized. So fucking tired.

  Covering her yawn, she fumbled with her doorknob and stumbled into her room. Another dizzy spell hit her, sending her hurtling toward the bed. She managed to fall on it rather than land on the floor, grabbing fistfuls of her duvet and pulling herself onto the mattress. Why the hell they had to make beds so tall these days was beyond her comprehension. Some of the girls used a frigging stepstool just to get in bed.

  Her room still smelled like Quake. She’d wanted to keep his scent a little longer, not ready to let it go.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be soon enough to clean. She needed to freshen the air and see what the winds of change brought. Belle’s girls didn’t have boyfriends. Breakfast with Quake was only a pipe dream and that’s all it might ever be.

  Still, just in case, she wrote his number down that he’d scribbled on her forearm. If worse came to worse and she couldn’t bring herself to go back to work upstairs or on the stage . . . , if she started working behind the bar as Belle offered, she might actually have a chance with someone like Quake. End up in a real, lasting relationship, not be trapped in some other man’s fantasy that ended when the hour was up.

  It was the last thought she had before she slipped into sleep.

  When Rory opened her eyes again, sunlight was peeking through her drawn curtains. Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she looked groggily at the bedside clock. Eleven fifteen a.m. was lit up on the screen. Only two hours had passed. Groaning, she rolled over pressing her face into her pillow. As she lay there hoping to fall back to sleep, it became obvious she was wide awake to stay.

  “Shit.”

  Rising, Rory stretched . . . and realized she’d gone to bed still wearing borrowed clothes. Finding some fresh pajamas in her closet, she padded into her ensuite and took a quick shower.

  Redressed, she walked out of her room, headed for the kitchen, and bumped into Candy in the hallway.

  “Hey!” her friend beamed. “You’re awake.”

  Rory wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I couldn’t seem to stay asleep so I thought I’d go have some warm milk or something.”

  “What do you wanna do? Hibernate?” the other woman joked.

  Confused, Rory followed her down the stairs. “I don’t think two hours leads to hibernation even if shifters were capable of that.”

  Candy halted halfway down the steps, turning disbelieving eyes her way. “Magenta, you’ve been dead to the world for twenty-six hours. We wanted to wake you but Madam Belle said to let you rest. I thought you were never going to come out of your room!”

  Twenty-six hours?

  Rory’s mouth dropped open in shock. She never slept that long. Not even on days off. Her body was attuned to her routine here and sleep-ins were impossible.

  “You must have needed it, huh?” Candy continued down the steps, leading the way to the kitchen.

  “I guess,” Rory agreed.

  She’d barely reached the kitchen counter when a wave of dizziness assailed her. Grabbing onto the edge, she clung to it for support.

  Seeing her sway, the other woman watched with concern. “Low blood sugar. You need breakfast. Take a seat, and I’ll make you something.”

  “Thanks, Candy.” Slipping onto a stool, Rory watched her friend busy herself, pouring them both a glass of orange juice before making a start on food. Steak, eggs, hash browns, and toast. As predator shifters, they craved meat more than anything else. As dancers, they needed plenty of protein, calcium, and iron.

  �
�You should never skip a meal,” Candy told her, plating their breakfast and bringing it to the table.

  “I don’t usually,” Rory admitted. “I wasn’t planning to sleep the day away.”

  “Quake wanted to know how you were.”

  At the mention of his name, she couldn’t prevent herself from blushing pink. “He was here?”

  “Uh-huh,” Candy grinned, waving her fork in the air with a piece of steak skewered on the end of it. “Madam Belle told him you were sleeping. He didn’t go into the club. He sat in the parking lot in the dark smoking weed on his bike while Mason came and played with me.”

  Rory arched a skeptical brow. “How do you know what he was doing if you were having sex with Mason?”

  Candy winked. “Amos.”

  Quake hadn’t been able to see her, but he’d guarded her from afar. Like a knight watching over a princess.

  Or a duchess . . .

  Rory stopped that thought, even though it made her feel all warm and tingly all over.

  “They’re worried about the jackals trying something,” she told her.

  “Hmm.” Candy chewed on her food thoughtfully before swallowing. “I think your gargoyle has something else on his mind.”

  They were finishing up when they heard footsteps in the hallway. It looked like someone else couldn’t sleep.

  Madam Belle entered, a silk kimono wrapped around her slender curves. Her pale dainty feet were bare. Eyeing the two women with a look that clearly stated it was far too early to be up, she sauntered toward the coffee maker.

  “Good. You’re awake. I’ve managed to get you an appointment with Amos’s therapist. He had a cancellation and can fit you in this afternoon at one. We’ll need to leave at a quarter after twelve. There’ll be intake forms to fill out. Medical history and all that.”

  The cup Rory had been bringing to her lips paused before it reached her mouth. “Wow, that was fast. It’s kind of you, but I don’t need . . .”

  Turning sharply, the Fae pinned her with an intense stare. “You’re going. And no arguments. Anyone who’s been through what you did needs the tools to deal with it. Better to go and not need it than need it and not go. And where you’re having trouble staying awake, I’m going to drive you. You can get behind the wheel when Doc says it’s safe and not before.”