Page 6

Hannah

I knew Knuckles would follow me. I had hoped I’d be done with Dillon before he got there, but everything worked out for the best. And, as an added bonus, I didn’t have to clean up the mess myself. Turned out that was a very good thing because the roofing tacks had seemed like a good idea, but they made cleanup a bitch.

“You do realize that could have gone a whole other way, right?” Knuckles. God, could the man not give me a moment’s peace? And not because he was a thorn in my side, though he was. The man was sin on a way fucking off-limits stick. He kind of worked with my dad, so it would just be all kinds of yucky for me to fantasize about his big body and what he looked like under that tight T-shirt and his colors. My dad would have a fit. And not because of the ex-con part either.

Dad was kind of protective of me and Suzie. Me more than Suzie because my sister had her own protector. Her husband, Stunner. Whose ass Dad had kicked. In the literal sense. Dad was funny like that. He’d intimidated or otherwise run off every single boyfriend I’d ever had. Except for Robert. Dad had only met him once and his dislike of him was more than vehement. It bordered on outright hatred. Guess he either knew or suspected what I was too stupid to accept. So, given the fact Knuckles was a guy -- no matter how much older than me he was -- and I was dad’s youngest daughter? Yeah. Nitroglycerine was less explosive than my dad faced with a man in my life.

“I had everything under control.” I shrugged. “I mean, I should have reconsidered the roofing tacks, but I enjoyed the shit outta him not wanting to get away from the shocking by stabbing himself in the feet.”

“Roofing tacks might have been the less painful route.” Knuckles grinned and sweet God in heaven, how could a man so gruff, grizzled, and basically shit-yourself-scary look so Goddamned gorgeous when he fucking smiled?

“Dillon was all about psychological games.” I turned what I knew was an evil smile on Knuckles. “I beat him at his own game.”

A sharp laugh escaped Knuckles. “Yeah, baby girl, I guess you did. Now. You and I have unfinished business back at the compound.” He held out a hand, fully expecting me to take it. I surprised myself when I did. “Come on.”

He took me out to the garage and his bike. I knew what it meant for a biker to put a woman on the back of his bike. Most of them avoided it for any reason unless the woman was theirs. I’d seen Trucker take a cage instead of his bike when he knew there was a chance of someone having to leave with us. So when Knuckles tossed me a helmet before straddling his bike, I gave him a confused look.

“What?” I looked from the helmet to him and back.

“Put the fuckin’ helmet on, Hannah. Your daddy might let you ride without one, but not me.”

“I got here myself, I can get back myself.”

“You got a ride here?”

I shrugged. “Don’t need one.”

“You do now, honey. You just killed a man in there. Yeah, we’re cleanin’ it up, but if we miss something, we don’t want your ass on the line.”

“Don’t you think your big Hog there is a little noticeable?”

He grinned at me. “It might be. If anyone saw us.”

“But they won’t?”

“Nope. But we have to time it right. That means you come with me. Now. Helmet. Get on the bike.”

I took in a nervous breath. “Alrighty then.” Thankfully, Knuckles didn’t say something stupid like reminding me to be careful and not touch the pipes, so he got to live. But, oh my God! Riding on the back of his bike… My thighs were practically hugging his ass. His smell permeated my every breath. Yeah. I was sporting a wettie, make no mistake about it. It was ironic that I finally had this man between my thighs and he was facing the wrong fucking way.

Fuck my life!

Once we were on the road, I lifted my face to the breeze. I could ride a bike on my own. No way I had grown up in the Bones MC compound where my dad was president and not learned how to ride a bike unless I really didn’t want to. Not because my dad insisted, but because he forbade us girls from getting on a bike. Not because of some misguided, chauvinistic beliefs. Dad was terrified of anything happening to us. He was just as protective of the boys, but in different ways. Usually making them think whatever he wanted or didn’t want them doing was my brother’s idea to begin with. Truth was, though, I loved riding with someone instead of by myself. That way all I had to do was move with them, enjoy the scenery while the wind blew in my face, and let it take me away to a place of pure joy. Free from worries for even a little while.

We stopped at an intersection. It was one with a four-way stop sign instead of a roundabout or stop lights. I tapped Knuckles on the shoulder. He turned his head slightly to hear my request.

“Take me home.” I pointed to the left. The second I spoke, I knew I’d fucked up. Or maybe this had been his plan all along. Knuckles snorted, then turned right. Toward the Kiss of Death compound. “Fucker.” My muttered response got another snort out of him.

He didn’t even slow down as he approached the gates to the fucked-up compound that was Kiss of Death. These guys had basically taken up four city blocks of warehouses and strung them together, walled them off, and made a small community that they kept to themselves. I can’t even imagine the permits and fees it cost to do some of the integration they did -- city streets technically still ran through their territory -- but somehow they’d done it.

The streets were lined with camo canvas, masking movement from overhead. There were a few small open areas with either a park or a community pool, but that was it. Everything else was masked from overhead view.

I’d been to the compound a few times since Gunnar came home. I missed my brother. For years I’d blamed myself, and I suppose I always would to some extent. But now that I had him back, I was afraid to let him out of my sight. It’s why I’d moved to my little farm outside of Nashville. I could see my brother every day if I wanted. And Pippa. I was so glad Gunnar had Pippa. It was easy to see how much she loved my brother. I felt better knowing he had someone to help him navigate life outside of prison. Especially since he’d spent fifteen years of his life behind bars for something he didn’t do.

In all the times over the last couple of months I’d been to the KoD compound, I’d never been anywhere other than either the main clubhouse -- where parties and gatherings other than church were held -- and the warehouse with Gunnar and Pippa’s apartment. When we sped past both, a sliver of unease tickled my spine. A couple minutes later, we pulled into an underground garage exactly like the ones in all the enormous warehouse buildings they owned.

We pulled into a parking space, and he shut the bike down. There were a few other bikes and the occasional truck or SUV in a space, but mostly the motorcycles of the men living in this building.

“Where are we?”

Knuckles didn’t answer. He pressed the button on the elevator and we waited. A few seconds later he ushered me inside the elevator car and pressed the button for the top floor. The doors opened again, and he guided me out by my elbow.

“Knuckles. Ain’t asking again. Where the fuck are we?”

He stopped at one of doors and unlocked it, dragging me inside with him. The apartment was a small studio. There was a stove that still had the cardboard over the burners, a sink with one basin, a fridge, and a microwave. The microwave door was open, but the inside was spotlessly clean. The whole room was.

As he closed and locked the door, he nodded to the small, square table. There were only two chairs, placed across from each other. I took one, he took the other. He laced his fingers in front of him, his forearms resting on the table.

“Now. Explain that whole torture by roofing tacks and electric shock thing.”

“What? You think the guy didn’t deserve it?”

“Oh, he deserved what he got and more. What I don’t get is why you let him hit you, Hannah. Unless you were completely plastered, you could’ve fought that fucker off with your eyes closed.”

“Yep.” If he wasn’t answering my questions, I wasn’t answering his. We stared at each other for a long time. I didn’t have to explain myself to him, and had no intention of doing so.

“All right.” Knuckles placed his hands on the table, spreading his fingers wide. He had tattoos over most of his skin. His forearms were thickly muscled and roped with veins, his biceps stretching the T-shirt he wore. The leather vest with his name on the chest hung open. I knew on the back was the Kiss of Death emblem proclaiming them a one percenter. I’d heard the saying that ninety-nine percent of MCs were law-abiding. His patch proclaimed his club to be in the one percent of outlaw motorcycle clubs. I thought Torpedo and Bohannon would have tried to distance Kiss of Death from what the term outlaw implied, but fact was, even Bones dipped their toes on the wrong side of the law from time to time. His beard was full and long, and he looked exactly like what he was. One hundred percent outlaw biker. And, fuck me, it was a fucking great look on him. “How about you tell me how you met fucktard.”

“How is any of this your business, Knuckles?” I kept my tone even, but I felt a little like a child called into her father’s office to be punished.

He shrugged. “It’s not, really. And it doesn’t really matter, except that Gunnar is gonna kill someone when he finds out about this.”

“I killed Dillon so Gunnar wouldn’t,” I bit out, unable to contain my anger at the image he painted. It was a simple saying, really. People dropped the phrase “I’m gonna kill” someone or something all the time. But in this case, I cringed. Gunnar taking the rap for killing someone he hadn’t was what got him taken away from me in the first place. The man was my twin, for Christ’s sake! Which was even worse when you factored in how I was the guilty party. I was the one who’d killed that swine, Robert. Gunnar had confessed to the murder in order to keep me safe.

Knuckles raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m fully aware. What I don’t get is why you let things escalate as far as they did.”

“It happens all the time, Knuckles. Who knows why women stay with their abusers? There are so many different reasons and all of them seem valid at the time.”

“Ain’t interested in other women, Hannah. And I know you weren’t really with him. What I want to know is how many times you let that bastard beat on you before you took matters into your own hands tonight.”

“A few. I needed him secure in what he was doing, so he’d lose his cool in public.”

Knuckles jerked back like I’d struck him. “You were baiting him?”

“I guess you could say that. I already knew what he’d done to Carol. And one of the other women I mentioned? He killed her. Said it was a boating accident and she got washed overboard.”

“Pretty sure we’d all agree the fucker needed to die. That’s not in question. I want to know why you got involved. And I got a feeling this isn’t your first time out.” His hard, knowing expression let me know I was busted. I didn’t care about getting caught, but I didn’t want it to be Knuckles who put the pieces together. Or Gunnar. I kind of expected it would be my dad who’d figure it out.

“Again, not your business.”

“Yeah?” He stood so abruptly his chair tumbled backward and skidded across the room. “I’m makin’ it my fuckin’ business.” The hard, angry words almost made me flinch. Not out of fear, though. Knuckles was many things, a killer among them. But he’d never hurt a woman unless she needed it. Then it would be as quick and painless as he could make it. No. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me. I was afraid of the disappointment I’d see in his gaze.

It was always hard enough to take it from Dad. But, even if I never acknowledged my feelings to myself, I’d basically had a crush on Knuckles from the first day I met him. If I looked like a fool in front of him, I wasn’t sure I could bounce back. There was something about Knuckles that drew me to him. Probably his loyalty to the people he cared about.

“Sorry, Knuckles. You don’t get to make that choice.”

“I do when I have to watch you stand there and take a punch.” His reply was clipped. Angry. He had to close his eyes and take a breath which I kind of found amusing. “You probably don’t know much about me, Hannah, but I killed three men to get to go to prison. They raped and murdered my sister. So seeing someone hit my cell mate’s sister is a huge fuckin’ trigger for me.”

“I didn’t go to that club with the intention of you being there. While I respect that people have triggers, I didn’t have you in mind when I went out last night.”

“Didn’t say you did. But I was there. And there was no way I couldn’t not interfere. Didn’t matter if it was you or someone else. I will never stand by and see someone strong hurtin’ someone weaker just because they can. The fact it was you made it that much worse.”

It was my turn to stand and pace away. “Christ,” I muttered. “Look, if it’s about this happening in your city, I get it. You don’t want blowback. I only went after Dillon because Carol is my friend.”

“OK. We’re getting somewhere now.”

I’d walked to the bar in the kitchen area. It was the only thing separating the kitchen from the living room. When I turned around, Knuckles was right behind me. I sucked in a breath as he caged me in, his hands flat on the bar on either side of me. The look he gave me was that of a man who expected to be obeyed. Unfortunately for Knuckles, my father had given me that look many times, so I was immune. No, my reaction to Knuckles was all about his close proximity and the scent of clean sweat and gasoline and the heat coming from his big body that had me weak in the knees. This was definitely a bad time for my fucking hormones to kick in.

“You afraid, little girl?”

I tried to scowl at him but wasn’t sure I pulled it off. Especially since my heart was hammering in my chest so hard there was no way Knuckles would fail to notice how my pulse fluttered at my neck. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, I think you are.”

“Am not.” Fuck. I actually stuck my chin up. What was it about Knuckles that made me want to stand up to him like a teenager to a parent?

He slid me a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Tell me what this is all about. You’ve killed before. Not only did you not flinch when you stabbed that motherfucker, you committed to the kill before you approached him.”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was a bastard who preyed on the people he was supposed to love.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Dillon or anyone else in that situation. I care about you. So, I want to know why you’re putting yourself in this kind of danger. More than once, apparently.”

“It’s just my thing, Knuckles. This is my contribution to society. I take scumbags off the street.”

“Vigilante justice, huh.”

“I suppose so.”

“No.” His snarl was a surprise. My gaze snapped to his where I’d been looking anywhere but at him. His closeness was distracting. Knuckles was larger than life. And I didn’t mean only his size, though he was a big-ass motherfucker. Standing over me now, the man oozed sex. The carnal, nasty kind. I wanted to jump him, to make him take what his gaze was promising.

I wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination. I was thirty-two years old, for Christ’s sake. But I had never wanted to have sex like I wanted to have sex with Knuckles. Maybe it was the violence from earlier. Maybe it was the man himself. Or maybe, it was because this was the first time I’d ever truly wanted to have sex with a man. It wasn’t happening, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.

“No, what? I didn’t ask a question.”

“You’re not settin’ yourself up to be beaten and probably raped out of a sense of justice, though I’m sure that’s what you tell anyone who knows about what you do.”

“Isn’t justice enough?” Could the man get any closer to me without touching? I really wanted to find out. Suddenly, everything I’d been doing since Gunnar went to prison seemed like a bitter victory. Sure, I’d won every battle I’d taken on. But at what cost to myself? Then the only question was if I cared about the cost. The answer was a resounding no .

“It goes deeper than vengeance.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Fine. We’ll drop that topic for now.” For some reason I didn’t feel like I was getting a reprieve. “Are you scared of me?”

“I already told you. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Good. So If I did something you didn’t much like, you’d take care of me in a permanent fashion. Yes?”

“Where you going with this, Knuckles?”

He leaned in closer, his giant frame dwarfing my more petite one. “When I count to three, I’m gonna kiss you, Hannah. If you don’t give me a good hard shove or knee me in the balls, I’m gonna to kiss you until you don’t know your own name. Then, if we’re both feelin’ it the way I think we’re gonna feel it, I’m gonna strip you naked, throw you up on this fuckin’ bar, and eat your pussy until you fuckin’ scream my name, little girl.” I gasped in a breath and would have fallen on my ass if I hadn’t been holding on to the edge of the bar. “One.” He started counting.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered. I wasn’t sure if I was scared or eager. Probably both.

“Two.”

“Three.” I sighed, and pulled him down by his beard and met his lips with mine.