He was their biker King-in-training and I was his Queen.
It sent a dark thrill through me to be marked with power like that.
I pressed a kiss to King’s neck as he spoke with the guys, turning in his arms to do so, before I made my way to the bathroom down the hall. It was occupied, and I could hear the grunts and moans from inside, so I quickly diverted down the hall back to King’s rooms farther down the hall. As I went, I passed a room with a light on and the door cracked, the sound of creaking floors and rustling papers inside sitting wrong with me.
I pushed into the room.
It was a study, a rather large and clean one actually, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a big black desk absolutely covered in clearly sorted papers and files.
Behind the desk, stood Lysander.
He was standing, but bent low over the desk with his phone at his ear. I recognized the cracked phone case because I’d bought him the Jungle Book-themed accessory for his last birthday (he had a surprisingly adorable weakness for Disney movies).
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
His face was blank with shock for a minute before he broke into a smile. “Needed a quiet place to take a call.”
“You were barely around all night,” I accused him with a small pout.
I’d been looking forward to spending more time with him now that he worked for Hephaestus but, if anything, he was even more distant. King told me that he kept to himself at the garage but worked hard and had a natural talent with body work (whatever that meant).
“Still adjustin’,” he admitted with a grimace.
He’d been out for two years, but I knew it was hard for him to integrate back into society, especially when he’d never been great with people.
“I’m here to help, Sander,” I said softly.
He shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.
“Come here, you big lug,” I said with a laugh.
He did, bending his big body nearly double to take me into his arms in a tight hug.
“Love ya,” he told me, an unusual sentiment from him to speak aloud but one I’d never, not even for a minute, doubted in my life. “Do anything for ya.”
“I know,” I said, patting his back and breathing in his familiar tobacco and mint scent. “Ditto.”
A loud sound rent the night air and minutes later, we heard the thunder of many booted feet tramping outside the clubhouse. Shouting followed.
We broke apart to look at each other.
“Stay here,” he growled.
I turned around and ran out of the room. His curse and heavy steps followed me.
There were women speaking in a little huddle in the corner of the main room when I passed through and Tay called my name, but I raced through the door to the front yard where the commotion had come from.
There were men everywhere.
The Fallen brothers were spread out in some kind of loose formation over the asphalt that led down the chain link fence. It hadn’t been locked yet because of the party and through the open gates had come at least six enormous GMC trucks and ten motorcycles. An MC logo jumped out at me, painted on vehicles and patched on to the back of jackets.
Nightstalkers MC.
Most of the men looked dark in the low light, probably Mexican, and all of them wore guns exposed on their hips and sticking out of their boots.
It was not a friendly visit.
“Heard you were looking for us?” one of the strangers stepped forward.
They were all backlit by the high beam lights on their cars and bikes so it was hard to make out his features, but his Spanish accent carried clean and true over the lot.
No one responded to him.
So, he laughed. “Don’t be shy now, Fallen brothers! We wanted you to come looking, there’s no shame in pleasing us. In fact, that’s why I’m here tonight, to offer you a one-time-only deal. Curious?”
Again, no one spoke.
I spotted Zeus at the head of The Fallen. He was easy to spot, the largest, broadest man on the lot but he also had two silver guns in his hands, steadily pointing at the newcomers. They glinted in the artificial lights.
“I’ll tell you anyway because I can see the cat has got your tongues. We have come to take over your operations. You can give up now or we can take them from you. Trust me, you want to choose the first option.”
“Fuck you,” Mute, of all people, growled before lobbing a glob of spit at them.
“Fine,” the leader said with a dramatic shrug, it was clear that he loved this. “Don’t trust me, trust them.”
At his cue, three of his brothers stepped forward with an enormous cooler and placed it on the hood of the truck closest to the clubhouse. They blocked the light as the removed whatever it was from the cooler and then stepped back.