by Ivy Black
Chapter Three
Tess
Any excitement that Colin turning back up in my life gave me bled out when I saw my dad and brother. I deliberately asked the doctor not to contact my dad because I knew that there was a pretty good chance Taylor was still with him. I could explain certain things to my dad, not just because I was a bit of a daddy’s girl, but also because I was his vice president and noted right hand. He’d listen to me if I told him to trust me and that I was taking care of an old friend.
Taylor, however—well, he was a different story.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Taylor lost his mind. Our mother died before either of us was really old enough to remember her, so my dad had raised us by himself and did a hell of a job at it. I distinctly remembered having a normal, loving brother as a little girl, but then it suddenly seemed like any guy that even looked in my direction got his head bitten off. Figuratively, at first, but as he got older, he started to get slowly more physical and violent. I tried to call his bluff with my first boyfriend after I pledged for the Steel Knights, and it turned out to be a huge mistake. Taylor broke into my house while we were having sex, dragged my boyfriend out into the backyard, and shot him before I could get a word in edgewise. My dad had it covered up like a break-in gone bad. To say it traumatized me would be an understatement.
After that, I committed myself to never doing anything other than letting the odd, wavering guy take me home for a one-night stand, and even those encounters were treated like such a big secret that they could have been stored in Area 51. I imagined Colin’s crooked grin and green eyes, and my stomach twisted into a knot. Adulthood had been good to him, and he still had his brother to think about. I couldn’t get him killed by trying to rekindle an old flame, even if he still looked at me like I was the most important thing in the world. Now that Taylor was aware he existed or would be aware soon, I had to make sure that nothing happened between us.
For a really long time, my dad tried to convince me that Taylor was just being overprotective—it’s what a brother is supposed to do—but somewhere along the way, I realized that Taylor didn’t have much other than blind aggression inside his body. Sometimes, I felt like he was doing it because he felt more like I was his property than his sister, and someone who touched his property had to die. Most of the time, though, I thought it was just because Taylor was crazy. Around five years ago, my dad had stopped defending his behavior and just tried to steady the waters. He was starting to realize his son was unhinged, too, even if he didn’t want to accept it.
“Hi, Daddy,” I finally greeted him. I reserved familial association for when we weren’t around the other members of the brotherhood. Otherwise, I called him Squared or Nick like everyone else.
My dad, a man with short brown hair, a severe jawline, and several scars across his stubbled skin, gave me a smirk. “Hey, baby. Working late, I see?”
“A friend of mine needed some help,” I replied. “I told Marteau not to bother you with it.”
My dad chuckled. “You know good and well that everyone has orders to tell me everything. Big or small, if it’s worth your time, it’s worth mine.” That was my dad’s way of saying that he was paranoid about everything that happened without him, but I’d never dare say that out loud. “We were still at the Taphouse when he called. Taylor was right there with me, so we both decided to come and make sure you were okay.”
I sat down in one of the armchairs that sat perpendicular to the couch and tapped my leg, and Lockjaw finally tore himself away from my dad and came to me, setting his head in my lap and waiting patiently for scratches.
I set a hand on his head and rubbed for a few seconds silently before continuing. “I’m okay, Daddy. Really. A friend came to me and was a little banged up, and I called Dr. Marteau to get him a little help.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow immediately. “Him?”
“Yes. A friend from high school. CJ.” I locked eyes with Taylor. “Just a friend.” I decided to omit the fact that it was Colin from my childhood that was in the other room. I wasn’t sure what my dad or Taylor would do if they knew it was my childhood crush, but I was hoping they wouldn’t put two and two together so that I didn’t have to find out. I shifted my gaze from Taylor to my dad. “I’d like a private audience.”
Taylor was the spitting image of my dad apart from his auburn hair that was closer to mine. When he scoffed, he and my dad were nearly indistinguishable. “Aw, come on. We’re all family here. Why the secrecy?”
“This isn’t a family matter,” I responded, but I directed the comment to my dad. “I’m asking for a private audience as your vice president.”
The smirk that Taylor had turned into a scowl. “That’s low.”
My dad tapped his fist against Taylor’s arm. “It’s fine, Taylor. Why don’t you head home? We’ll talk tomorrow.” Taylor didn’t move. I shifted my attention toward him and saw that he was staring at me like he wanted to set me on fire. My dad cleared his throat and turned to look at Taylor. “Leave. Now.”
I was surprised that the deep sigh Taylor let out in response didn’t blow actual smoke out of his nose. He stood up off of the arm of the chair, glaring at me as he moved. He came to stand in front of my coffee table, staring at me over it, and suddenly, he brought up and threw down a fist into the glass, shattering it all over the floor. He was unbothered by his destruction as he stepped through the frame and over to the front door. He opened it and walked through, slamming it behind him.
“Brat,” I hissed under my breath, staring sadly at my coffee table. I’d had to replace more than one piece of furniture due to Taylor’s outbursts, but I really liked that coffee table.
My dad chuckled. “You know how he is. I’ll replace the table.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’ll just redecorate.”
He crossed his arms and looked at me, a little more relaxed, but also a little more business. “Now. Are you going to tell me what this is really all about?”
“I didn’t lie,” I replied quickly. “It is a friend from high school, and he is banged up, though that might be a kind way to put it. He looked like he was going to pass out any second.”
“What happened?”
I scratched behind Lockjaw’s ears, and he started to pant with satisfaction. “He said someone set his house on fire…with him in it. He thinks whoever did it is still after him.”
“Why are they after him?”
“He doesn’t know.”
A scoff of disbelief skipped over my dad’s lips. “How does he not know why someone would try to kill him?”
I smiled, remembering that I said something damn near identical. “That’s what I said, but he’s pretty shaken. I really don’t think he knows.”
“It sounds a little convenient to me.”
“I’d swear my title on the guy. He’s a good guy. Kind, well-liked. If someone is trying to kill him, I highly doubt he had anything to do with it. It must be a situation totally out of his control.” Lockjaw walked away from me and over to his bed, allowing me to cross my arms to match my dad. “He’s in rough shape. He’ll need to stay for a week maybe, just until he’s in good enough shape to be on his way. If trouble comes his way, can you protect him?”
My dad sat in silence while he considered this. He pondered my face, and I could tell that he could read my passion. I was glad that he didn’t ask why I felt compelled to do something for Colin at all. The truth was, I didn’t really know. I cared so much about Colin when I was still a kid, but more than a decade had passed since then. Plenty of people had neighborhood crushes, and plenty of people got over them. I never got closure from Colin, but I also never dated anyone that made me feel the way he had. Even if I couldn’t keep him in Hoppa forever and chase what we once had, part of me felt inexplicably compelled to help him in any way that I could.
“You called an official audience, swore your title, and now you’re asking me to protect him.” My dad chuckled. “It’s always interesting to
see what lights your fire. It’s so rarely burning.” He sighed. “Still. The only ones I protect are the brotherhood. Anyone who isn’t a Knight is outside my purview.”
“So, make him a Steel Knight.”
My dad let out a full laugh then, slightly condescending. “That’s not how it works, and you know it. The bylaws are Taylor’s fully loaded AK-47. If I tried to just make the man who showed up at your house and begged your help a Steel Knight without him prospecting, Taylor would likely finally snap all the way and kill us both before serving your friend to Lockjaw.”
That sent a chill down my spine. He wasn’t wrong, but if there really was someone hunting Colin, I’d need more than my Colt to protect him. If he was a Steel Knight, Taylor couldn’t touch him, either, not without violating the bylaws. That option really did make the most sense.
“So, what if he pledged?” I asked. “If he’s serving as a prospect, can we keep him safe until he’s healthy enough to leave?”
That time, when my dad started to consider my question, he stared up at the ceiling. I could see the gears turning as he mentally flipped through the pages of bylaws to see if the loophole I was attempting to exploit was big enough to do so.
Finally, he looked back at me with a more serious expression. “If he were in my territory, acting on my behalf while serving as a prospect, I would consider that under the extension of my umbrella of protection. But if it turned into something too dangerous, I’d cut him loose and he’d be on his own. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Yes, Squared.”
“Good.”
I relaxed a little bit, thinking that I could at least buy Colin some time to heal and chart his next move. “I really think you’ll like him, anyway. He has this old-school, vintage ride. Just like you like.”
My dad’s presidential expression broke in favor of a childlike smile, complete with wide, sparkling eyes. “I saw it outside, the Harley. It’s so pretty. Did he build it? It looks custom.”
“I don’t know, but that’s kind of his style, so I bet he did.” I smiled at my dad’s excitement. Colin had always been known for being a charismatic guy, which was odd considering how little he spoke. If Colin could get on my dad’s good side while he was around, it’d serve him all the better.
“The casing he put on it, it is—”
The phrase didn’t get all the way out before we heard a series of crashes and bangs from outside. My heart dropped into my stomach. It didn’t occur to me before that moment that I never heard Taylor’s bike start after he left. With each resounding creak of breaking metal, I imagined Colin’s beautiful bike taking damage.
I leaped up off the couch with my dad and Lockjaw right behind me. I flung the front door open and ran out onto the lawn, but I was too late. My bike had a series of dents, all of my dials were shattered, and Lockjaw’s added seat had been knocked completely off. I wasn’t as concerned about that, though. Taylor had damaged my bike before, but Colin’s bike had been destroyed to the point of being inoperable. It was on its side, and Taylor had a lead pipe in his hand and was circling around the bike like a vulture over prey, taking the pipe to the gorgeous black casing and shining metalwork. The tires were flat, and Taylor used his own knowledge of motorcycles to slam his pipe against all of the most important parts of the bike.
I could see Lockjaw chomping at the bit to get the command to race over and stop Taylor, but I had no confidence that Taylor wouldn’t shoot my dog. I started to walk over myself, but my dad grabbed my arm to hold me back. He strode past me calmly, always a man with the ability to keep a cool head in hectic situations and walked over until he was standing between Taylor and Colin’s bike.
“Enough,” he said simply. “Drop the pipe.”
Taylor was in the act of swinging and had the pipe held above his head. For a moment, I imagined Taylor bringing it down across my dad’s head. They stood there, inches from each other. Taylor held his weapon raised and was shaking with anger, and my dad stared at him like he was still a little boy who’d disappointed him. Minutes passed that felt like hours before Taylor finally tossed his pipe over into the grass.
“Get it, Lockjaw,” I said, and Lockjaw ran over to where he’d tossed the pipe and retrieved it, bringing it back and dropping it at my feet.
Taylor side-eyed me briefly before turning around and heading out to where his bike was parked in front of my dad’s on the street. He mounted it, started it up, and took off down the street without putting on a helmet or gloves.
I walked over to assess the damage, and I was already dreading explaining this to Colin. I looked up at my dad. “You owe him a new bike now, too.”
My dad nodded. “Bring him and his bike by Hoppa’s tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do.” He stepped up to me, kissed me on my forehead, and then walked over to his bike, climbed on it, put on his helmet, and left.
I looked at the ruins of Colin’s old-school motorcycle and sighed. Hopefully, he wouldn’t hate me when I told him what happened. I tapped my leg, prompting Lockjaw to follow me, and led the way back into the house. Just as I was closing the front door, the doctor walked out of the guest room, quietly closing the door behind him.
“What was all that commotion?” Dr. Marteau asked, and my heart thudded as I imagined Colin hearing all of that while he was afraid he was being pursued.
“You guys heard?” I rolled my eyes. “My brother lost his temper.”
“I heard. CJ is out cold. I gave him the good drugs. He’s in bad shape,” Dr. Marteau replied. “He’ll be okay, though. He’ll have some permanent scarring, especially on that left arm. You’ll need to regularly dress his wounds until they heal, but he doesn’t require surgery. I left a burn cream and some Vicodin for the pain. I should see him again in a few days.”
I nodded. “Thanks, doc.”
“Of course.”
I stood aside so that he could walk past me toward the front door. As soon as he was beyond me, I pulled my gun out of the back hem of my jeans and fired directly at Dr. Marteau’s right shin. He hissed out a swear as he dropped to the floor. Lockjaw ran over and loomed over him, growling and snarling.
I walked over and crouched next to Lockjaw so that I could look Dr. Marteau in his eyes. “I thought I asked you not to call my dad, doc.”
Dr. Marteau was groaning in pain, trying to pull himself to his feet, but every time he moved too much, Lockjaw snapped at him. “I have strict orders to always call your dad. He’s a scary man.”
“Well, I think you can now see that we’re cut from the same cloth,” I replied in a low, resonant voice. “Next time I tell you to do something, you’d better not disobey me. We can always find another doctor.”
“Y-yes, Valkyrie.”
“Good. Now get out of my house. Lockjaw will see you out.”
Leaving Dr. Marteau to figure himself out, I stood and walked back into the guest bedroom. As Dr. Marteau said, Colin was passed out on the bed, starfish style, one leg hanging off the bed. He looked much better with a new white wrap of gauze around his left arm and crawling over his torso. I was able to see his bare torso now that he wasn’t awake to freak out about it, and I let out a little groan. He’d taken great care of himself. Mind wandered briefly to what he could do with me with those full, thick arms, but I shook it out of my brain.
I had hoped to explain what happened with his bike sooner rather than later, but he’d have to hear the story in the morning. I pulled a blanket from the closet and pulled it over him, then left the room, ducking my head into the living room just long enough to see that Dr. Marteau managed to get out and that Lockjaw was already snoozing away in his bed. Then I turned around and went back into my own bedroom.
As I changed for bed, I couldn’t shake the fear that Colin might be gone when I woke up the next day, but it wasn’t like he could get far without his bike, anyway. I set my gun and phone on my bedside table where I could reach them both in case of emergency, and with the hope that I’d find CJ still in the guest bed in the morning
, I climbed in my bed and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Four
Phantom
Usually, the sun on my face in the morning served as a frightening realization that I’d actually allowed myself to drift off, and feeling the morning light would send me into a panic. I woke with the need to make sure that my bike hadn’t been stolen, that someone hadn’t lifted me from wherever I was, or that someone wasn’t preparing to kill me. For the first time in close to a month, I woke up in a warm and comfortable bed and felt totally at ease. Because I’d gotten actual drugs as opposed to my main medicine recently—booze—I didn’t have the usual headache that came with waking up in the morning, and though my body was sore all over, it wasn’t the barking pain I typically had to fight through before I could set out for the day.
When was the last time I got a good night’s sleep? Even before I left the Unchained Dogs, my nights were usually plagued with worry over Caid, and thus also sleepless. Caid was in Germany and under the best care Luther’s money could buy, and I was in Tess’ house with my wounds finally having been tended to by an actual doctor. I felt the best I’d felt in a very long time, if ever.
I lifted my arms to stretch them above my head and was happy when they moved without too much protest. The white bandages coiled around my left arm were a painful reminder of the discoloration beneath that Dr. Marteau had told me would be permanent. It wasn’t as if I was a shorts and t-shirt kind of guy, but Arizona heat was nothing to play around with. Regardless, I’d be creating a permanent wardrobe of long-sleeved shirts and jackets going forward. Vanity aside, I didn’t want anyone linking my arm to anything that happened to me back in Rumble, and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was too weak to handle myself.
