Knight (73 page)

I might have been stuck doing Exorcist’s bidding, but my father instilled in his children a sense of devotion. I hated and feared my father, but I loved my brothers.

I’d do what Luke asked not because I feared for my life, but because I would do anything to save theirs.

I didn’t pick up the bag. Instead, I held Luke’s stare. I was a musician, not an actress. But if hiding the quiver in my voice was anything like playing dumb, I needed to jump from jazz onto Broadway.

“I don’t think you understand.” I stalled. “I might be able to avoid Thorne, but what about my brothers? If Keep or Brew finds out about this, they’ll both charge right into war with Exorcist. I don’t think anyone will survive long enough for your plan to work.”

“Don’t worry about your brothers.”

“I have to. They’ve controlled my life since I was a child.”

“You’ll be in and out,” Luke said. “They’ll never find out.”

“Sure. Until Exorcist kills me. Then they might have a clue.”

Luke smiled. A warm, compassionate smile. “Exorcist won’t kill you. That’s not part of the deal.”

My stomach flipped. “What deal?”

“You aren’t going to get hurt. We just need you as a show of support for Temple.”

“I don’t understand. What deal?”

“Trust me, the less you know, the better.”

Luke edged the book bag toward me. I didn’t pick it up. Couldn’t. Not when my head swirled and any movement might’ve sent me toppling over into the gravel.

“Don’t get caught,” he said. “You’ll be fine. You have my word.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t trust you at all.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Tied up? Fire? You threatening Thorne at Sorceress?”

Luke sat on his bike and fixed his helmet. The motorcycle roared under him.

“Do you think anyone would’ve survived if I aimed my gun at Exorcist instead?” Luke let the question linger. He pointed to the bag. “Get to work, Rose.”

Luke turned out of the parking lot and into traffic. I stared at the bag for only a moment before bending down and unzipping the pocket. The amount of green on the inside shaded my face the same color.

My stomach heaved.

At least fifty thousand dollars shoved inside my bag. Plenty of money for me to hop in my car, drive across state lines, and do my best to hide.

But it wasn’t enough money for me to damn my brothers.

Or Thorne.

I didn’t know why that son of a bitch still deserved my compassion. But I was never good at denial. The ground bobbed under my feet, and my heart raced my stomach to escape my mouth.

Someone else was working with Luke. Someone who had promised my safety.

I might have prayed if my family hadn’t become anathema to all things holy long ago. Instead I could just hope. Wish.

My brothers
couldn’t
have made any arrangements with Exorcist. There was no way. Thorne broke my heart, and I was looking for any reason to forgive him. Even if it meant questioning my brothers’ loyalty. That was the sickest part of all.

I threw the bag in my passenger seat and started my car. My hands trembled on the wheel. I closed my eyes.

The haunting crescendo of the police siren, just the faintest chirp, cemented the air in my lungs. Red and blue lights flashed in my rear view mirror. An unmarked sedan parked behind my car. I hadn’t moved, but the Darnell in me nearly leaded my foot against the gas.

But I didn’t wear a cut. And I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Except shoulder a bag filled with fifty grand offered by the VP of a notorious motorcycle gang.

I turned the car off and tossed the keys away. The sedan silenced the siren and flicked off the lights. Two people emerged from the vehicle.

I didn’t know if they were police. Plain clothes meant problems. A badge never bothered my family, but the ones smart enough to get off the street and dumb enough to look for cases to pad their resumes posed a challenge.

I double checked the bag to ensure the zipper was closed. It was. The female officer—all legs and pants suit—rapped on my window. My hand shook as I lowered the glass.

“Good morning.” She flashed a badge. If I had any breakfast to lose, I would’ve given the game away. “I’m Agent Katherine Greene, ATF. Let’s take a walk, Ms. Darnell.”

I cursed going into music instead of law. Not that my father would ever have allowed it. My family preached anarchy and nonconformity and the other bullshit principles that Anathema endorsed. But I didn’t need a law degree to realize that ATF didn’t give a damn about Anathema’s charter. And the brunette woman wielding the badge wasn’t flashing her credentials to be polite.

I debated my options. Getting out of the car without being tossed onto the gravel first wouldn’t endear me to either biker club. Anathema and The Coup didn’t agree on much, but no member would tolerate me talking to the Feds.

On the other hand, resisting her offer would last only until she acquired a warrant. She’d take the bag, sprinkle the money around her department, and Exorcist would have more of a reason to kill me.

Then again, if I just hyperventilated, choked on my own tongue, and passed out, at least I might go in peace. No matter what betrayal my brothers had allegedly committed, and no matter what Exorcist planned to do to me, no matter how horrible Thorne’s heartbreak, nothing was worse than grabbing the bag and greeting federal agents with fifty thousand dollars bouncing on my back.

“This is my partner, Agent Wright,” Agent Greene said. Her partner offered me his badge. My day was going bad enough that I believed him without looking. “Are you hungry, Rose? May I call you Rose?”

“I—”

“Let’s get some breakfast,” she said. “We can talk inside.”

Other families had lawyers. Legal counsel. My father used my college fund to pay his attorney’s retainer. Once that dried up, he left us with nothing. I flinched away before she led me beyond my car.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Am I being detained?”

Agent Greene exchanged a quick smirk with her partner. She winked.

“We request the pleasure of your company, that’s all. A cup of coffee and some pancakes.”

I never heard of this diner before, but the sheer amount of people forcing a Breakfast Smile down my throat spoke wonders of its kitchen. I searched over my shoulder. Luke was gone.

Maybe it was all a set up. Place me into a compromising position, tip off the Feds, and force me to make a deal against Anathema.

That might have been Luke’s plan, but it certainly wasn’t something Exorcist would have concocted.

Agent Greene awaited my answer. She pulled a pen from the bun tacked behind her head. A notebook flipped from her pocket.

“Or maybe I will have a few questions to ask you,” she said. “I thought the restaurant would foster a better conversation than my office.”

She wasn’t wrong. I tightened my grip on the bag. Her partner gestured toward the restaurant.

“My treat,” she said.

I nodded. She waved me forward, and I dreaded how bulky the bag felt bouncing against my steps. Agent Wright, a balding man nearly my father’s age, held the door open for me. The air inside the restaurant heated from the griddles and stuck to my skin like syrup. As if I didn’t feel sticky and thick enough, the overpowering coffee scent caffeinated my every breath. My hands shook. I blamed it on the brewing espresso. I doubted the agents would believe me.

They forced me into a booth. I tucked the money between my feet and stared down at the stained menu the bubble gum cracking waitress stuck in front of me. Agent Greene wasted no time and ordered a stack of pancakes for each of us.

That was fine by me. At least then I wouldn’t have to reveal that I had forgotten how to read in their presence.

And how to talk.

And how to breathe.

My mouth dried, and I gulped down half the glass of ice water. The chill nauseated me. I wondered how fast I could make it to the bathroom, and how quickly the agents would pull their guns when I bolted.

“Thank you for joining us, Rose.” Agent Greene smiled. If Lyn were a snake, the ATF agent was some sort of jackal. A grinning, scavenging dog that would sooner tear my throat out than earn a pat on the head. “Or do you prefer
Bud
?”

Even they learned the nickname. I wished everybody would stop using it.

“Rose is fine.”

“Good.”

I shifted against the seat. “What’s this all about?”

“Right to business.” Agent Greene sipped her water. “Well, to be honest, Rose, we just wanted to see how you were.”

“I don’t understand.”

Agent Wright pulled a newspaper clipping from his pocket. “Are you okay? That was quite an adventure you had a few nights ago.”

I stared at the article. The headline wrote a bad pun for the warehouse fire. It didn’t talk about who was trapped inside, but it mentioned the damage. And it included an interview with locals who spoke of motorcycles and gunfire before the blaze broke out. I scanned the words, twice, since I didn’t trust my watering eyes.

My name wasn’t in the article. Neither was Anathema’s. Small favors.

“I don’t understand,” I said again. “What does this have to do with me?”

Agent Greene narrowed her eyes. “Do you know anything about this fire?”

“Why would I know anything?”

“Because you were trapped inside when it began,” she said. “Maybe you don’t remember. It was a long night, after all. What with your debut performance and then the kidnapping. Must’ve been exhausting.”

I stared at my glass of water. Counted the ice cubes. It wasn’t often words couldn’t escape my mouth. I was used to singing, performing, entertaining people. The only time I embraced silence was around my father.

And now was the time for silence.

I knew what Keep would do, but I doubted flicking off the Feds, overturning the table, and threatening their lives would be very effective or menacing coming from me.

Brew’s alternative wouldn’t be any better. He didn’t need theatrics to intimidate. My oldest brother would only need a single look, and the Feds would shut their mouths. Permanently, if they kept pressuring him.

I had no idea how Thorne would react. But every trembling muscle, blinding thought, and raging heartbeat punishing me for leaving Pixie wished that he would storm through the door and rescue me. Again. Like he always seemed to do when the guns loaded and the fires erupted.

“Now this fire happened in a special location,” Agent Greene said. “Did you know that particular warehouse was one of the meeting places for a new charter of the motorcycle club, Anathema?”

“Oh.” She tested me. The Coup was not Anathema, but that wasn’t my battle to fight.

“It seems strange such an important location would burn to the ground,” she said.

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Rose.” Agent Greene held my gaze. She might have been a pretty woman if she let down her hair, lost the badge, and did a few twirls around one of Lyn’s poles. “If you help us, we can help you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“I think you do. I think you know exactly why that warehouse burned down. You’re protecting the men who nearly killed you.”

“This all sounds kinda silly.”

Agent Greene sighed. Her partner nodded.

The waitress brought us the pancakes, but the sugary halo turned my stomach more than their investigation. Both of the agents ate. Like they hadn’t asked me any questions. Like they actually thought they’d flash their badges and then dig into a big breakfast after trying to earn a confession about Ex. They’d try to make me set up Thorne before their second cup of coffee.

“You’re not hungry?” Agent Greene asked. “It might help to jog your memory.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But I’ve already eaten.”

“You make it so hard to believe you.”

Since when was breakfast cruel and unusual punishment? I never thought of pancakes as torture, even if Keep’s cooking turned French toast batter into cement. At least he never forced me to eat it.

 “I think you have me confused with somebody else,” I said. “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“You can,” she said. “But I don’t think you want to. You’re protecting your club, even though our intelligence indicates you stayed separate from Anathema.”

Common knowledge. There was a reason women wore property patches or pole danced instead of riding bikes and doing deals. I didn’t answer. She smiled.

“And now?  You’re seen wandering in and out of Pixie. Visiting your brothers. Singing pretty little songs in dive bars. Protecting Anathema. Protecting The Coup.”

I forced my best smile. I doubted it’d convince them.

“I’m not protecting anybody. If the club needs muscle, they’re certainly not hiring their little sisters to watch over her brothers.”

Agent Greene took a big bite of her pancake, chewed, and covered her mouth with a napkin as she spoke. Her fingers tickled her glass of water.

“Does this have anything to do with your father getting out of jail?”

No
. She lied.

Her words muffled into abject cacophony.

A jumble of noises, sounds, and tinny screeches that echoed within the chasm of my fear.

I stared at her. Both agents continued eating. The syrup dripped over the sides of their plates. Sticky. Thick. Coating everything.

Absolutely revolting.

I vowed never to eat pancakes again.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

Agent Greene nodded, guzzling more water. “I asked if your reluctance had anything to do with your father getting out of prison.”

“My father isn’t getting out of prison.” I hid my trembling hands before I bent my fork into a knot. “He has another twenty years to serve. Your agents pushed for the maximum sentence. And you got it.”

I didn’t admit how relieved I was when the term was settled. Agent Greene nodded.

“But his parole hearing is coming up.”

“He doesn’t have a parole hearing. Not for many more years.”

“Sure, he does.” She nudged her partner. Agent Wright pulled a folder from his briefcase and passed it over the table. I didn’t dare touch it. “This was pushed through within the past week. I thought it was a little soon, but our justice system does try to rehabilitate even the most heinous of criminals.”