Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (7 page)

She blinked rapidly as her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears. “Stop, I’m going to cry.”

I lightly brushed my lips over her forehead. “
Mi Corazón.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get over it.” I grabbed her wrists with the intent of bending her over my desk and showing her how much I loved her, but her yelp had me releasing her quickly.

She cradled her wrist to her chest and I noticed that her shirt sleeve had ridden up enough to reveal a bright white bandage wrapped around her wrist. “What the fuck?”

Chewing her lower lip, she tried to hide her bandaged wrist behind her back. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” I stalked closer to her while she backed away. “You disappear and then show back up hurt and you don’t tell me? That’s not fuckin’ nothing!”

“Calm down.”

“Let me see your wrist.”

“No.”

“Sarah, let me see your damn wrist.”

“No!”

We were facing each other across my desk know, and while I could have reached over and made her show me, there was a high likelihood she’d have her gun out of its concealed holster and up against the side of my head before I could draw a breath.

Trying for tolerance, I said in a low voice, “Please.”

To my shock, she stamped her foot like a kid having a tantrum and said, “Dammit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen! I had this whole thing planned out how I would show you and you’re ruining it.”

Completely confused now, I gripped my hands into fists and tried to be patient with her. “Woman, you better start making some sense, and soon, or I’m gonna come over there and spank that pretty ass until you can’t sit down.”

Tapping her foot in a pissed-off rhythm, she crossed her arms and glared at me. “You’re such a dick.”

“I know, now show me your wrist.”

She glared at me, but when I didn’t look away, she finally huffed out, “Fine, but my way would have been so much better. It was awesome, and you’re going to totally miss it because you have no patience.”

Jerking up the sleeve of her shirt, she picked at the tape holding the bandage to her skin with her red-painted nails, muttering unflattering things about me the whole time. I ignored her, focused on the injury that she was trying so hard to hide from me.

At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing, but as she turned her wrist to me, my heart seized in my chest then I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t force my lungs to inhale past the happiness filling me.

All I could do was stare at her beautiful, delicate wrist, forever marked with my darkness.

Suddenly shy, Sarah went to withdraw her wrist, but I gripped her by the forearm as she whispered, “I wanted to show you that I’m yours, Beach; that you don’t have to worry about me wearing a patch. That I may be younger, but my commitment to you is as solid as your commitment to me. We belong together, and though I may not have waited as long, I have waited my whole life for you.”

I raised her wrist higher, my lungs finally filling with oxygen as I let out a slow breath at the sight of “Beach” tattooed onto the pale skin of her inner wrist in elegant script.

Words failed me and I could only stare at the permanent mark of my name on her body, of my brand on her flesh that would let everyone who saw her know she was mine.

“Baby…”

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it. I love
you
.” I lifted my gaze to her shy one then gave her a soft kiss before saying, “You’re never gonna regret being mine, Sarah, I swear it to you.”

“When I first came to Austin with you, you said you’d make the rest of my life nothing but happiness, and you have.”

Without another word, I hauled her over my desk, not caring that the careful stacks of papers were now scattered on the floor. Our lips met and that electric zing shot through me that I always got when I kissed my woman, a fire that burned through my blood right into my soul.

As she melted against me, I swore that no matter what happened in the future, I was never letting her go.

Sarah

I stared at the computer screen, forcing my tired brain to absorb the words before me. While I loved my modern art appreciation class I was taking online, right now my brain was in freak-out mode over the events of the last few weeks.

Bad luck had come to visit Iron Horse, then decided to stay. My gut was telling me something bad was going on, that the predators were circling our home, but Beach was so overwhelmed with running the club that he came home exhausted and the last thing he needed was me talking about some illusive bad feeling I had.

At first it had been little things, houses being robbed, vague threats being made, and then it had escalated to a club sweet butt being raped and beaten then left on the road leading to the Iron Horse MC clubhouse.

It was a message, and an insult, all rolled up into one.

Not that I gave a fuck about any of that. I was far more concerned with the woman who had been taken, a girl scarcely older than I was whose only crime was partying with Iron Horse. The girl, Ashley, had paid dearly for that sin. They’d cut up her face, and while we had a plastic surgeon who would work miracles on her, it would take time. I’d set her up with a job on the Caribbean Island Iron Horse owned to get her away from the bad memories.

I hadn’t been to the island yet, but Beach promised me when things calmed down we’d go there for two weeks. While we wouldn’t have the whole sixteen-mile island to ourselves—half of it was rented out to people willing to pay obscene amounts of money for a private beach—the other half was Iron Horse’s official vacation club.

Yeah, it seemed weird that one of the perks of belonging to the MC was vacationing for free in a tropical paradise, but I’d seen where the island was on the maps and realized it was in a very good position for smuggling. Not that I’d asked Beach about it, he’d just give me blank face and tell me the less I knew the better, but I wasn’t stupid and I was the daughter of a gun smuggler. I’d seen enough of my father’s work to know how most supply routes operated, and that island was perfectly positioned for smuggling stuff from South America.

For the tenth time, I tried to process the words I was reading, then gave up with a sigh and kicked my chair back from my white-wood computer desk. The whole room was done in shades of white, ranging from a bright crystal to a deep cream. The space wasn’t huge, but it did have large windows that looked out over the gated front drive of our home, and down the steep hill beyond to a great view of the majority of Austin. Our place was on top of one of the ridgetops, so on a clear day like today, it felt like I could see forever. The view was surprisingly green thanks to the recent rains and I allowed my gaze to take in the beauty, hoping it would soothe me.

My emotions were all over the place as a knot of worry grew in my belly that left me feeling slightly nauseous. I knew from my intelligence network, aka the old ladies of Iron Horse, that a couple of the brothers had gotten busted during a run, but we didn’t know who yet. Only thing anyone had heard was the club’s kick-ass lawyers had been called in to arrange bail. My man was handling stuff behind the scenes, no doubt greasing the right palms and calling in favors to get his boys out. I’d had no idea how corrupt the government was until I got together with Beach. Anyone, and I do mean anyone, has a price, and my man often knew just what to offer to get what he wanted.

Still, I worried. I worried so much I was exhausted with it, and considered going to sleep on the small daybed in my office, but my rumbling stomach reminded me I’d skipped breakfast.

I made my way downstairs to the bright blue and steel-grey kitchen, where one of our maids, Juanita, hummed as she bustled about the kitchen. Her well-rounded hips shook as she danced to whatever music was playing on her headphones. I loved to watch her move; she still did salsa with her husband a couple times a month, and you could just tell by watching her that she was having fun. When her dark brown eyes met mine, she flushed, then laughed and pulled her earbuds out.

“How are you doing, Ms. Anderson?”

“Good. Tired and hungry. Do we have anything you could heat up real quick?”

“Of course. What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know…my stomach’s kind of off.”

She gave me a considering look that I didn’t understand, then smiled in a way that softened her whole face. “How about we do grilled cheese again? I will even cut the crust off for you.”

Laughing, I made my way over to the sleek, circular ebony table that occupied a large breakfast nook. “Deal.”

We chatted while she worked about her massive family; she was the oldest of eleven children and had four grown children of her own, and they all lived in Texas. Hearing her stories was better than any Spanish soap opera, and I laughed until my cheeks hurt as she talked about her youngest son, who liked to think he was a Lothario, and how two girls he was dating found out about each other and beat his butt at a nightclub.

As amusing as her tales were, my stomach kept scrunching up as I checked my phone what felt like every minute, but was probably every ten seconds.

“Put that thing away,” Juanita scolded me as she placed my plate before me, the scent of the warm bread and cheese making my mouth flood with saliva. “Always checking for the text, always staring at the little screen like it holds the secrets of the universe. What is important is what’s here, right in front of you, right now.”

Shaking my head, I reluctantly pushed my phone away then thanked her as she handed me a big glass of milk.

She left me to eat and I scarfed down the sandwich, grinning when she returned with a second one for me, along with some pills.

“What are these?”

“Your vitamins.”

“I have vitamins?”

“
Si
, you do now. I see you looking tired all the time, how hard you work and how busy you are taking care of others. You need to keep your body healthy, and you will not give it the rest it needs, so take your vitamins. Then maybe you should take a nap.”

“But Beach—”

“If he calls, I come wake you up. Mouse asked me to look after you, and I love you like one of my own, so you will take your vitamins and you will go take a nap.” She gave me this…this mothering look that made me feel four years old. “Am I clear?”

I merely nodded and took another bite of my sandwich, mildly surprised at how stern Juanita could be. Then again, with her hellion sons, I guess she needed to have some brass to her. That, and the fact she worked for the president of an outlaw MC. She gave me a wink then put her headphones back on and began to clean up the kitchen, humming to herself under her breath in a slightly off-key way that had me turning away to hide my smile.

Knowing she’d hassle me until I gave in, I went upstairs to the master bedroom and collapsed face first on my massive four-poster, black iron bed. It was a monstrosity with chains and cuffs hanging from all the posts. I’d fussed at Beach when he’d added them, not wanting the maids to know our sex life, but he’d merely laughed then went about showing me how wonderful it could be to have cuffs and chains on one’s sturdy bed. A soft breath escaped me as I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

Daylight streamed through the big windows facing the valley and I squinted before saying, “Gloria, darkness please.”

Beach always laughed at me for addressing the house computer by name, and for being polite, but I didn’t care. To me, the magical being that made things happen when I spoke could have some sort of artificial intelligence, and I figured I’d be better off if my house liked me. After all, I loved it. This ninety-five hundred square foot mansion had been designed back in the 1980s by one of the nation’s premier modern design architects at the time. It had taken a little bit of work to restore it, but I’d taken full advantage of having a clean slate to work with for designing the interior of the home. Beach let me pick out and do everything, from ordering the fabric for the couches, to haggling with the masonry guy about the shit job he was doing on our fireplace.

Happy memories eased the knot in my belly and I grabbed Beach’s pillow, holding it tight and inhaling his scent.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up to Beach shaking my shoulder. “
Mi Corazón
, you need to wake up. Got someone here you need to see.”

Turning over slowly, I blinked up at him, still feeling like I could sleep another fifty hours. The sleek black marble nightstand lamps were on and the warm illumination made Beach’s face seem older and worried. Without thought, I reached up and smoothed back his hair, my fingertips threading through the hints of silver streaking the gold here and there. “Hi, honey, who’s here?”

“Babe, brace yourself.”

Instantly I sat straight up, all thoughts of sleep gone as I reached over the edge of the bed and clutched Beach’s wrist. “What?”

A million terrible things went through my mind, everything from something happening to the club to finding out my parents were right to be paranoid and the world was crashing down around us.

What I didn’t expect him to say was, “Your mom is downstairs, and she’s been beat pretty bad.”

“Oh my God, Mimi?” I released his arm and started to roll out of bed, but he stopped me.

“No, Billie.”

Instant, raw, visceral fear had me wrapping my arms around myself in a protective gesture. “Billie?”

“Yeah.”

“Is downstairs right now? In our house?”

“Yeah.” He frowned at me. “Sarah, you okay? You just went pale as a ghost.”

Before he could say another word, I gagged, a heavy wave of nausea churning the remains of my lunch in my stomach. When my mouth filled with saliva, a sure sign I was going to puke, I shoved a concerned Beach out of the way and managed to make it to the toilet. I barfed so hard, and for so long, my stomach ached by the time I managed to calm down. An icy sweat covered my body and I slowly became aware that part of that cold came from the wet washcloth a very concerned Beach was holding against my neck.

With his cut off, and just wearing a pristine white t-shirt, his broad shoulders seemed even bigger, and I had to fight back tears as I stared into the face of the man I loved more than anything in the world.

“Water, please. And a cup with some mouthwash.”

After making sure I was propped up against the wall, he hustled over to the sink, leaving me to stare at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that made up the far wall. My reflection was less than flattering and I wondered what my mother would see when she looked at me.

I haven’t seen her since she’d broken into my house and stolen a bunch of stuff—then tried to blame it on Marley—close to three years ago. She’d tried to contact me from time to time, but I think she believed me that if I ever saw her again, I was going to the police with everything I knew about her, personal consequences be damned.

Why the hell would she show up now?

Something really bad must be going on if she’d sought me out.

Or she wanted something from me.

Beach crouched before me, his faded jeans tightening around his thick thighs as he squatted down so I didn’t have to strain my neck looking at him.

“Thanks.”

I took the cut-crystal glass and drained it, forcing my stomach to accept the liquid. After I was sure it would stay down, I rinsed my mouth out with the mouthwash really well before spitting it into the empty cup. Even as freaked out as I was, I didn’t want Beach breathing in my vomit breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just…upset.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples and tried to get my shocked brain to focus. “Did you really say Billie’s here?”

Frowning at me in concern, he nodded while cracking his tattooed knuckles in agitation. “That’s right. She’s downstairs with Vance.”

“What? Why?”

He held my face with both his hands, ignoring my still sweaty skin. “Sarah, honey. Your mom…well, she’s hurting.”

Despite my best attempts to harden it, my heart instinctively ached at the thought of my mom being in pain even if I knew she deserved to burn in the fires of hell for all eternity for some of the shit she’s done, the people she’s coldheartedly ruined, and even killed.

“Oh.”

“She’s okay, had a doc look her over, but with her broken ribs she isn’t going to be able to do much for herself for a few weeks.”