He smiled, smoothing my tangled hair. “I suppose you are in a way. My own little princess.”
“He killed them for nothing.” I curled in on myself, hugging my rib cage.
Arthur’s voice was strained. “I’m so sorry, Cleo. Believe me, the fucking bastard will pay. I can’t change the blood flowing in my veins, but I can make it up to you by putting him in the ground.”
I shook my head. Death for death wasn’t justice, it was just a tragedy. But at the same time, I couldn’t stomach the thought of him living and ruling a Club he’d taken by evil—a Club belonging to my father.
I can’t live in a world where my attempted murderer prospers.
My soul wept. “Why me? Did he try to kill me because we were together? Because he knew how we felt about each other?”
Arthur’s eyes darkened, his hands curling tight. “No. He never planned to kill you. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time.” He looked away, his jaw clenched so hard he couldn’t say any more.
Grasshopper jumped in. “He wanted you alive.”
My eyes shot to his blue ones, begging for the riddle to end. “Why?”
Arthur finally got his rage under control, whispering harshly, “He knew what we were going to ask him that night. He knew how much I fucking loved you. But the bastard had other plans.”
I didn’t think it would be possible for my stomach to fall any further, but somehow it slipped through the floor and plummeted down and down. “What plans, Art?” I breathed, every muscle seizing against his answer.
“Sell you,” Grasshopper said. “What better way to formulate loyal Chapters than selling off the daughter of the president he just killed? He planned on using you to unite another large Club out in San Diego. You were to be used like—”
“Like a pawn.” Now I saw the chessboard. Now I understood the players if not the rules. My eyes met Arthur’s. “He was never going to let us be together.”
Arthur shook his head sadly. “I only found out a few years later that he left you inside the house to terrify you. He planned on coming to your rescue, making you believe he tried to save your parents—just like he saved you. He planned on using your gratefulness as a weapon and bribe you into paying back the debt of his kindness.”
Oh God. I had evaded not only a horrible death but a horrible existence, too. “But I escaped,” I whispered.
Arthur hung his head, his face white. “I still don’t know how he missed you getting away, or if someone found you and took you—”
“They didn’t.” I sucked in a breath. “I crawled on my own. I remember. I managed to get to the road, where someone found me and took me to the hospital.”
His face twisted in brutal pain. “You do remember? God, Cleo. I never wanted you to remember that fucking night. The agony you must’ve been in.”
I shrugged, looking down at the table. “At least I know how I got away and before he found me.” I’d been destined for a fate worse than the one Arthur almost sold me into.
The irony and parallel between father and son didn’t escape me. Arthur was now president—just like his father. He’d been about to sell me—just like his father.
It doesn’t make sense—even more so now that I know the truth.
Sitting straight, I said, “Those girls, Art. How could you sell them when you knew what he planned to do to me? You made other girls suffer. What if that had been me? What if—”
“I would’ve found you and saved you. Fuck, Cleo, I would’ve come for you and slaughtered everyone in my path.”
I shook my head. “You couldn’t. You were in jail—remember? I would’ve been swallowed by a world that takes no prisoners. Even if you did find me once you were free, I wouldn’t have been the same person I was—the same girl you fell in love with.”
“You disappeared for eight years, yet you’re still mine. Still the redheaded girl who stole my heart.” His eyes were broken—a faded muddy green.
I smiled weakly. “Living a life where I was happy, if not lost, isn’t the same as being someone’s slave.” Sighing heavily, I said, “You have to find them. You have to save those women you sold.”
Grasshopper laughed coldly. “Do you honestly think Kill would sell innocent women into a life of horror?”
My head snapped up.
Mo said, “Those women were handpicked. Not for their looks—although they were pretty hot—but for who they associated with.”
My skin broke out in goose bumps.
“They were his whores, Cleo,” Arthur whispered. “We took any girl who’d slept with him since my mother died a year ago.”
Diane.
The softly spoken woman with dark hair so much like her son’s. The scents of fresh baking would drift across the courtyard, tantalizing my taste buds and making me skip across to Art’s house and plonk myself in her kitchen with my legs dangling behind the breakfast bar.
My hand slapped over my mouth in despair. “Art, I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to ask how she died but Arthur struggled to remain collected. His frayed self-control was near breaking point. He didn’t move or show any sign of pain, bottling it deep, where it festered just like the pain he’d felt for me. But I knew.
“We took his whores to teach him a lesson. When he finds out those same whores are now servicing other presidents of rival Clubs, he’ll bring a war down on his own head.”
Since when did having bad taste in lovers become a crime payable by sexual slavery?
My spine bristled with unfairness. I couldn’t keep the disapproval or disgust from my voice. “And me? What stock were you trying to buy? Why was it so important?”
Arthur sighed. “That’s tied up in the part that’s too involved to discuss in a diner—especially with other factions in hearing distance.”
I opened my mouth to argue. I wanted to know everything. Immediately.
Grasshopper put his hand on my arm, hushing my protest. “Let it rest, Cleo-Sarah. Kill’s a good man who fucking adores you. He’ll tell you everything.” His blue eyes landed on his Prez; ice melted down my spine at the secrets passing between the two. “You’ll get your revenge, dude. Your happily ever after will be complete and those who wronged you will rot in the ground.”
The sentence throbbed with righteousness. Undercurrents of promises and plans I wasn’t privy to thickened the air.
No one said a word.
“He’ll tell you everything,” Grasshopper finally repeated, glaring at Arthur. “Won’t you?”
Slowly and reluctantly, Arthur nodded. “I’ll tell you everything, Cleo. And I’ll hope to God you’ll understand.”
It wasn’t until afterward—after a greasy dinner of cheeseburgers and sodas—that I realized two things were missing.
My world had broadened, my horizons vast and beckoning as memories returned and secrets were revealed, but it was the answers not spoken that kept fear alive in my heart.
Answers that could liquidate my entire world.
The heavy warmth of Arthur’s jacket kept my body from plummeting into arctic chills as shock tried to take hold, but my determination only grew stronger.
I have to uncover what he’s hiding.
Tonight had swept my past upside down and twisted it inside out.
But I still didn’t know why or how I’d been kidnapped. I’d been barefoot and blindfolded—just like the other women. I’d been burned by Lighter Boy. How?
My fingers involuntarily went to the singe on my forearm. It was such an odd feeling. To remember parts—to feel whole after mimicking a sieve with missing pieces for so long.
It was a tease to remember certain things and not others.
It wasn’t fair.
I wanted everything.
I wanted to gaze upon the full story that was my past and present.
However, that question paled in comparison to the one echoing around my head. The one I couldn’t avoid.
The one that would shed light on the horrible despicable truth.
> A man who practically raised me killed my parents out of greed. He destroyed my future, turned his back on loyalty—and for what?
For a Club that meant nothing without friends to love.
No one shared my blood. My bloodline and lineage were over.
I was the last Price to ever hold the surname.
But through all the horrible revelations, one stood out that had been brushed under the rug and kept locked deep in the unmentionable cellar.
Where had Arthur been that night?
And why hadn’t he been the one to save me?
Chapter Twenty-One
I’d been so afraid love would soften me. That it would halt my thirst for revenge and drive me from my coldhearted determination to make them pay.
But it didn’t.
If anything, love made my determination even stronger.
I throbbed with the urge to decimate those who had done what they did.
I wanted to avenge not only myself, but Cleo, too.
It would be my gift to her.
A gift of closure from our terrible past.
—Kill
“Want to know my ultimate wish?” Grasshopper asked as we stepped from the diner.
The moon climbed up the sky, taking the stage now that the sun had descended. It hung like a huge silver dollar, casting everything in a metallic hue.
My arms stayed crossed around my stomach; I was cold despite the heat from Arthur’s jacket.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “With your dirty mind, I can guess.”
Mo laughed softly. “I’d say your wish was for a woman with skills who could give you a blow job while riding.”
Grasshopper punched him in the arm, smirking. “I wouldn’t say no to that shit, but that isn’t it.” His smirk turned into a smile as he pointed between Arthur and me. “I want that.”
A meter existed between us—a boundary that Arthur and I hadn’t found the nerve to cross. I wanted him to touch me, but at the same time didn’t. I wanted him to whisper in my ear and tell me it would all work out, but at the same time wanted nothing from him.
His father killed my parents.
My mind had a lot to unscramble before I would be able to sleep tonight.
“Want what?” Arthur asked, his forehead furrowed.
“What you guys have.”
Arthur chuckled, it sounded layered with pain and anguish. “You want a dysfunctional relationship that has more fucking issues than a TV soap?”
Okay, that kind of hurt. I knew we had things to work through, but we weren’t dysfunctional. Were we?
Arthur caught my eye, looking pleadingly into mine. His body swayed subconsciously toward me, even now unable to ignore the pull between us.
“No.” Grasshopper grinned, his dimple flashing. “I want what you guys have. To have a connection that never fades—even after so many years apart. I want honesty and the knowledge that I’m not alone in the world.”
My knees wobbled. Such a simple sentence but it shot me in the heart and made my anger dissolve. All the pain, confused thoughts, and misery I’d felt in the diner fizzled in my blood until they completely dispersed.
Life was too short to let the past dictate our future. Especially a future that was almost robbed from us.
Arthur sucked in a breath and closed the distance between us. I melted into him as his arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding me tight. His lips pressed against the top of my head in the sweetest of kisses. “I’m sorry, Cleo. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
Unlocking my arms, I hugged him back, not caring that two bikers stared uncomfortably. “I’m sorry for not dealing better with it.”
Arthur made a strangling sound. “You dealt with it better than I would have. The diner is still standing and the police haven’t been called. I’d say that’s a success.”
I laughed gently. “Suppose so.”
“See… that’s what I’m talking about,” Grasshopper said, his posture hungry for his perfect other.
Trying to keep my head straight and not be consumed by the rapidly building need between Art and me, I asked, “Do you have someone?”
Grasshopper chuckled. “You kidding? The only women I meet are the ones after me ’cause they think I’m a rule breaker or they’re looking for a cushy retirement fund.”
Mo sniffed. “Kill’s a kick-ass Prez, but by getting us on the right side of the law and cleaning out the Club, he’s fucked us.”
“What the fuck?” Arthur growled.
My eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Grasshopper laughed. “Smug bastard over there with his genius brain for numbers went and made us goddamn rich, didn’t he? Not only do we now appeal to the women who want to get off on a scary biker who says fuck you to the law—not the case now but back in the day, hell yeah—but we also have to fend off the Barbie-doll princesses who’ve been groomed for a man with money by aspiring parents.”
I shook my head, marveling at how such a conversation could take place after something so serious. “And they don’t care that you’re in a Club or prefer a bike over an Aston Martin?”
Grasshopper smirked. “Hell nah. It only sweetens the package. Millionaire biker on the right side of the law with the protection of a brotherhood who would do anything to shelter their own? Who doesn’t want that shit?”
Mo rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting myself an old lady.” Pointing a finger at himself, he added, “Lone wolf.”
Arthur chuckled, holding me closer. “Well, Lone Wolf, I apologize for making you guys so damn desirable. Now fuck off. I want to ride home alone with my girl.”
Grasshopper looked down the road, his face tightening. All signs of joking and banter disappeared. “You sure that’s a good idea, dude? We’re in their territory, after all.”
Arthur’s muscles bunched, sending shock waves into mine. My fingers ached to slide down his front to his cock. The sparking interest in my core promised he felt it—felt the twitching need to connect after talking about things that had the potential to tear us apart.
I needed him inside me. I needed him now.
“We’re good. We’re stopping on the way. But it will be in our borders.” He looked at me, promises of what we would do once alone glowing in his gaze.
A warm tingle started in my heart and radiated in my belly. He did feel it.
Grasshopper came forward and slapped Arthur on the back. “All right, Kill. We’ll see you back at base.” Blowing me a kiss, he said, “It’s kick-ass that you’re part of us now, Cleo-Sarah.” He frowned. “However, might have to call you CS for short.”
“See ya on the flip side.” Waving, him and Mo headed to their bikes, yanked their helmets on, and took off with a roar into the night.
The second they left the parking lot, the awareness between Arthur and I sprang to a fever.
I ached. I melted.
We didn’t move—almost as if we had an unspoken agreement to wait. To make sure they were gone before we gave into the overwhelming pull.
Five.
Four.
Three.
The thunder of their engines faded.
Two.
One.
Arthur moved, backing me quickly and firmly up against the wall of the diner. My back collided with bricks and my lungs practically collapsed with the fierceness of his actions.
I didn’t have time to protest as his lips stole mine, hot and wet and possessive.
I moaned as his hand came up, capturing my breast. His touch bordered on painful but it only fired me more.
Kissing him back, I sucked his tongue into my mouth, arching my hips into his. The groan in his chest sent love blazing through me, incinerating my heart.
Our heads danced as we both fought for control; our breathing turned ragged as the kiss deepened. In a second we evolved from kissing to dry-humping against the painted brick wall.
“Wait—Art,” I panted into his mouth as his hand dropped to cup my core. All thoughts were inconsequential as his fi
ngers pressed intoxicatingly against my clit. “Wait!”
He suddenly let me go, backing up and dragging hands over his face. His wet lips glistened in the moonlight as they spread into a crooked grin. “Fuck, I want you so much I could take you right here—damn anyone watching.”
My chest rose and fell as lust spiraled in my system, burning my morals to dust. “Let’s go. The sooner we’re out of here the sooner we can be alone.”
The desperate look in his eyes almost made me come.
Holding out his hand, he ordered, “Let’s go, then. Before we’re arrested for public indecency.”
We hadn’t gone far—maybe half an hour—when Arthur eased on the throttle of his fierce two-wheeled monster.
The township where Dagger Rose ruled had long since disappeared as we turned off the main road and followed a rabbit warren of lanes.
The bumps and dips didn’t help my sore ass, and my spine screamed by the time Arthur killed the engine.
We stopped at the beginning of a track, sand covered almost everything, and there wasn’t another soul around.
Thank God it was a full moon tonight, otherwise we would never have been able to see in the darkness.
Arthur climbed off, stretching.
“Where are we?” I asked, ruffling my hair.
Grabbing my waist, he pulled me effortlessly from the bike, pressing my body against this as he let me slink down his front to my feet. “Not telling,” he murmured as his fingers kissed my throat, undoing my helmet before letting it drop to the sand-covered grass below.
His eyes were green beacons in the ghostly silver night and the silhouettes of trees protected us rather than haunted.
“You tell me where we are, Cleo.” He ducked, nuzzling his nose behind my ear. “Tell me what I did to you here.”
My core clenched as the need that had consumed us at the diner came back with vengeance.
“I—”
With a soft smile, he pulled away. With our fingers linked, he guided me forward. He didn’t say a word as we made our way down an overgrown track, our shoes sinking deeper into sand the farther we walked. The balmy evening hummed with insects and the occasional slap of water.