"He wanted me fired. He called me a bitch and asked Czar to fire me. I've never been a bitch to anyone. I don't even make Betina and Heidi clean the bar after hours, especially if they had a hookup." Anya was genuinely confused. "Then, today, it was made rather plain that no one wanted me around, I go to leave and Reaper won't let me. He won't even discuss it with me."
They were all crazy as far as Anya was concerned. She didn't mind confronting Lana and Alena. Her temper was close just seeing them. She might be a shelter child but she had enough pride to tell them both to go to hell rather than accept charity from them.
"What the fuck is going on in here?" Reaper demanded, making all of them jump. His voice was low. He hadn't raised it, but he sounded as scary as hell.
FIVE
"Reaper, language," Blythe reminded gently.
"Nothing's going on," Lana assured quickly. "Just girl talk."
Reaper stalked across the room, stealing Anya's breath and sending a little frisson of fear creeping down her spine. He just looked lethal. Dangerous. His blue eyes moved over her face. He didn't look at anyone else, or even acknowledge their presence. He caught the front of the shirt he'd loaned her and tugged until she was right in front of him. One hand slid under the mass of her hair, curling around the nape of her neck. It felt like possession. Ownership.
"Anya?" His thumb slid along her cheek.
That felt . . . sweet. Caring. She couldn't look at anyone, certain they would see her nipples pushing hard into the nearly nonexistent bra. They'd know her panties were damp and her clit throbbed with need. How did he do that? How was his voice like gravelly velvet, sliding over her skin like the touch of fingers? Rough. Soft. At the same freaking time.
Her eyelashes fluttered because her voice didn't work. She just stared into his blue eyes and was lost.
"We can go."
There was no way she was going anywhere with him, as tempting as it was. No way. She might lose her mind and jump him. She managed to shake her head, but she was unable to look away from the intensity of his blue eyes. She wanted to tell him he wasn't safe and he'd better get on his bike and run away as fast as he could go, but she couldn't do that with the other women looking on.
"You sure?"
She nodded. What an idiot. She couldn't actually talk? She was a bartender, for God's sake. A damned good one. She relied on her ability to talk bullshit with anyone, but around Reaper, she found herself completely gone. No brain. He reduced her to pure need and her brain just checked out. They said it was true of men; well, she was there to testify it happened to women too.
"All right. You need me, come and get me."
Anya nodded again. His fingers tightened for a moment and then he was gone, just as quickly and silently as he'd entered the room. She stood there like an idiot staring after him, wondering what was going on. A month of silence and now this. She would never understand him, not in a million years. Biker behavior was a far cry from what she'd thought it was.
Blythe cleared her throat. "So. Anya. You were just telling us that Reaper doesn't like you. That he tried to get you fired. You might want to continue the story for us. Because between the trying to get you fired and now, there seems to be a huge gap."
Anya looked from Blythe to Lana and Alena. All three were staring at her with the same shocked look on their faces. "He's just acting weird," she said. "It started last night when he took me to the campground where I was staying. My car was dead. It was cold, and he felt bad. Really bad."
Lana poked Alena. "Because Reaper is known for feeling bad."
Anya picked up the knife she'd abandoned when Reaper had come in. "I just don't understand any of this, so I can't explain it to you. He brought me back to the clubhouse and let me sleep there." When Blythe raised her eyebrows, she clarified. "Alone. We're not . . ." Her hands fluttered helplessly. There was no explaining Reaper's behavior. "He went from sitting in the bar every single night for over a month and not speaking a word to me, to wanting me fired, to bringing me here."
"He sat in the bar every single night for over a month?" Alena echoed. "Did Preacher tell you that, Lana?"
Lana shook her head. "He wouldn't rat on his brother."
Anya put her hand over her mouth. "I shouldn't have told you that? Why not? I really, really don't belong here. I don't understand anything." She'd never been so frustrated in her life. It wasn't like she normally went around desperately needing sex. Since meeting Reaper, she'd been on edge, moody and totally frustrated. Lately, it had been a thousand times worse. Coupled with not knowing the rules, she found herself ready to scream.
"Pasta salad," Blythe told the two club members. "You know how to make it. Get busy. I'm working on the potato salad, and Anya's getting everything ready for burgers."
"There's nothing wrong with telling us that Reaper sat in the bar, Anya," Alena assured. "Preacher wouldn't do it because there's this entire brotherhood code that's pretty ridiculous and makes the two of us crazy. We grew up with them. We're in the brotherhood, but because we have vaginas they treat us different."
"They're protective of you," Blythe pointed out.
"Which is rather silly, don't you think?" Lana asked.
"I think it's sweet," Blythe said.
"Where are you from, Anya?" Alena asked.
Anya should have been expecting the question. She weighed her answer. She had to be careful. "San Francisco was the last place. I move around a bit."
"Where were you born?" Lana persisted. "We were born in Russia. All of us were. Every member of the club. We were all in a school together there."
None of them had much of an accent, but Anya didn't question what Lana told her. There was no reason to lie. "I was born in LA. I don't think I was actually born in a shelter but I don't remember anything else--my mother went from shelter to shelter. I can't remember anything other than the streets." She forced herself to be matter-of-fact. If they were going to judge her, the hell with them. There wasn't an ounce of shame in her voice, nor was she looking for pity. She didn't need it.
"Is your mother still alive?" Blythe asked.
"Nope." Keeping her voice casual was harder. "She died when I was a teenager. Drug overdose. I was surprised she lasted that long." But she'd loved her mother, and when her mother remembered her, life was good for the two of them. Even in the shelter.
"How'd you end up a bartender?" Alena asked.
"I saw a program on television. It was a bartender famous for his tricks," Anya admitted. "He was mesmerizing. He could toss bottles around like you wouldn't believe. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. I knew if I could get to be that good, I could make money. Bartending school wasn't as pricey as college, and a bartender can get a job almost anywhere. The payout is much sooner as well, so for me, it made sense. It also helped that I have an amazing memory."
"Can you do some of those tricks?" Lana asked.
Anya nodded. "Absolutely. That's the fun part. I give my customers flair and they love it. I get better tips and it works great all around. It's not easy and I have to practice regularly, but I learned less is better."
"Preacher didn't tell me you can do tricks," Lana complained.
"He doesn't know. They're showy, only done in certain kinds of bars. They wouldn't be welcome here. I'd just look like I was showing off."
"Can you teach me?" Lana asked.
"And me," Alena added.
"Sure, if I'm around long enough. The garage has my car right now. They're hopefully fixing it."
"Wait," Blythe said, frowning. "You aren't sticking around?"
"Like I said, despite what you saw from Mr. Conflicted, I'm not his favorite person. I can't afford to have my job yanked out from under me when next he decides he wants me gone. I have to plan things. That's my personality. If I don't have a plan, I get overwhelmed."
The three women exchanged a long look again that Anya pretended not to see. Two men stuck their heads in the door. One was covered in tattoos and Anya recognized him a
s Ink. He rarely came in the bar. The other was named Maestro and she knew he played a multitude of instruments because occasionally, he and a couple of other club members jammed together in the bar. He was really, really good.
"Everyone out back?"
"No, Ink," Lana said in a snippy voice. "Everyone clearly is not out back because we're right here. Four of us. Women. You know, females."
Ink grinned at her. "That time of the month, huh, babe? Feelin' your pain."
He ducked when she threw a bag of pasta at him. They could hear his laughter as he joined the other men outside. Maestro put his hands in the air in surrender and followed him.
"Idiot," Lana huffed under her breath. "I'm going to run off to another state for a while. On my own. I need to get out from under them."
"I'll go with you," Alena volunteered.
"Oh, no you don't. You're not leaving me with all of them," Blythe said. "They barely have manners. At least you two have them semitamed. Without you around to keep them in line they'd go rogue on us. You can just stick it out and help me."
Lana and Alena exchanged a long look and then burst into laughter. "You're hard up if you think we're the answer to helping you teach them manners. We don't know any better than the boys."
Anya could listen to them talk all day. The camaraderie was something she'd never experienced. The shared laughter. They had a past together. They had a future. Just from the way they spoke to one another, she could tell the three women would always be friends. She wanted that. She craved being a part of something. She wanted friends, a home, a family most of all. Getting those things seemed to be so much harder than she'd ever imagined.
She'd never considered that a biker club could be about family. She'd lived on the streets and run into all kinds of people, most just trying, like her, to survive. Many had run from their families, couldn't find their way back to them, but wished they could. She watched parents dropping their children off at school, hugging them, purchasing clothing and food for them and longed for that in her own life. She'd never considered a man like Czar, so remote and distant, would do those same things for his children--and when he couldn't one of his brothers was doing it for him.
She looked out the window, watching the twins chase little Emily around the yard and then lift her up to their shoulders. They brought her right into the circle of men and each one greeted her, teased her, talked to her like she mattered. "Preacher mentioned you had four children," she said, still watching the child. She envied her. She wanted that for her children as well. No shelters. She couldn't imagine these men turning their backs on that child if something happened to Czar and Blythe.
"We do. We have three girls and one boy," Blythe said. "The three girls are sisters. Darby is the oldest, and she's amazing with her sisters, although she and Kenny argue a lot. I think they both want the other to concede they're the top dog." She laughed softly as if their arguing was funny rather than annoying.
"We brought Kenny home to Blythe," Alena confessed. "He was in a bad way, but she took him in immediately. It's a wonder what she's accomplished with him."
Anya had no idea what they were talking about, but she wanted to hear more. Clearly Blythe hadn't given birth to the four children, but watching Czar with them and hearing the love in Blythe's voice, she knew those children were theirs. They loved them as much as any birth parent could.
"Darby doesn't think so. She's after him all the time to study. They're at Airiana's house right now. It's just down the road. They go to school there. Zoe's with them." She frowned. "Our Zoe is still having nightmares. We've got her in counseling, but so far . . ." She broke off, shaking her head. "I think it's good for her to be with Airiana's children. They talk about what happened to them among each other at times. Darby says she thinks that's helping Zoe a little bit." She looked straight at Anya. "They were all victims of human trafficking. Airiana's children, other than her new baby, and other than Emily." There were tears in her eyes.
"Blythe." Alena's voice was soft. Gentle. Caring. It was the first time Anya had ever heard those notes in her voice. "I see them now, and I saw them then. You've done wonders for them. They love it here, and most importantly, they feel safe."
Anya's heart clenched hard. Safe. Safety. She would never have equated that with a motorcycle club either. Maybe it wasn't in all clubs, but certainly in this one, they cared about family and children.
Blythe looked out the window, her gaze on Czar. "Thank you, Alena. Sometimes, because we're so close to it, we hear them at night, or find them hiding in a closet, scared out of their minds, it feels like we're swimming against a terrible current." Her hand fluttered against her throat. "Czar is amazing. So strong. Always steady with them. I tend to be the baby and cry with them."
Alena put down the spoon she was stirring the spiral noodles with and went to Blythe, wrapping an arm around her. "You took care of me when I needed it, Blythe, that's why I can tell you without reservation, you're the heart of us. Of all of us. Of those kids."
Anya blinked back the tears shimmering in her eyes. She'd never, not in a million years, have thought Alena could be so caring. Hearing about the children broke her heart. She'd seen children come into the shelters, traumatized. Here, there were people who cared. A lot of them, clearly.
Czar, beer in hand, suddenly turned toward the house, looking at Blythe through the window. He saw Alena with her arm around her waist and immediately started jogging across the lawn. Anya watched him come toward them. He had eyes only for Blythe, although Anya had the feeling he saw everything. The minute he was on the move, the entire group went electric, on alert. Both Reaper and Savage flanked him, spreading out, as if watching his back.
A little shiver of awareness went down her spine as she looked at their faces. Hard as steel, eyes cold as ice, deep lines carved through their already tough features. She was looking at the other side of them. An image of the knife penetrating Deke's flesh, driving deep, all the way to the hilt, Reaper so casual. Savage saying he would take care of it. What was she thinking? She stepped back as Czar entered.
He went straight to his wife and pulled her into his arms. She heard him murmur something, and Blythe laughed, although Anya could tell she was crying. Reaper came in behind him, Savage was nowhere in sight. Reaper's gaze swept the room, a thorough inspection, and then he glanced at the couple before his gaze landed on Anya.
She detested that her body felt that penetrating look all the way to her core. Heat coiled, moved through her veins, a slow burn that was like a hot fire spreading lazily through her entire body. She pressed her hand to her stomach where knots gathered. He was so disturbing with his rough edge, one minute shoving her away, the next bringing her close.
He didn't speak, only looked at her, and she had the feeling he knew she was trying to back away again, trying to talk herself into getting out while she could. She knew there would never be a relationship with Reaper. He wasn't that kind of man and he never would be. Even if he let himself care, he would want to control every aspect of their liaison. He would insist on ruling her. She wasn't that kind of woman, even if they could find a way to be together.
Czar spent a few minutes kissing Blythe and teasing her openly until she was laughing and smiling. Anya couldn't help noticing that his hands moved over Blythe's body, under her tank, over her butt, and no one seemed to pay the least bit of attention. Anya squirmed because the entire time, Reaper watched her, not them, and her body grew hotter, so hot she was afraid she might spontaneously combust. She ached. Really, really ached. Everywhere.
Czar finally lifted his head, grinning, appearing so much younger than Anya had ever seen him look. "Should I send Fatei in to help make the burgers?"
"That's your job," Blythe said.
"Babe."
Lana put her hand on her hip. "Tell Ink, he can make the burgers. He isn't doing anything but standing around trying to look hot."
"Are you still carrying a grudge against that poor man?" Czar asked.
&nb
sp; "Poor man, my ass. If he ever tries to boss me again, I'm going to slit his throat," Lana declared, and Anya believed her.
She took a step back from the counter. This wasn't the place for her. She wasn't a violent person. She had a temper, but she didn't ordinarily strike out at anyone physically, as she had with Reaper. She'd put her hands on him more than once, and that wasn't acceptable behavior in her mind. These people thought nothing of slitting throats and throwing knives.
"Anya's going to help me put my house together," Reaper announced unexpectedly. Shocking her.
Her gaze jumped to his. His eyes were bluer than ever. A penetrating, piercing blue that took her breath and saw right into her. Every thought. She knew he'd done it on purpose, telling the others so she wouldn't back out. He knew she'd been thinking of running again. Clearly, she didn't have a poker face.
The room had gone so silent she wanted to scream just to fill it. Her tongue touched her lower lip and then she turned her attention to slicing the last of the pickles. She still had the onions to go. Maybe she could drive everyone out of the room if she started them.
"You going to be living there?" Czar asked Reaper.
Her gaze jumped back to Reaper's. He nodded his head slowly. "Anya needs a place to stay and I need the place fixed up. She agreed to help me."
Had she? She couldn't think straight with him looking at her like that. She just wanted to fall right into all that blue. At the same time, she wanted to run away, as fast and as far as possible. She was willing to have sex with him. Sex without strings. She couldn't live his lifestyle and no way was he changing it, not for any woman.
She knew in motorcycle clubs, women were second to the club. She'd been second her entire life. That would never happen with the man she loved. She intended that he would always be first, but she wanted--even needed--to be first in his life. Reaper would put all these men and women before he would ever put a woman--if he even kept one.
"Nice," Alena said. "If you need any help, Anya, let me know, I'd be more than happy to help. If you're into that kind of thing, I'm working on my restaurant right now, trying to come up with some interior designs. It's not really my thing and I wouldn't mind advice. Lana and I are hitting our heads on the wall half the time."