Grasshopper’s face darkened. “Fuck, you know my name, too. Witchcraft, I tell you.” Taking my hand, he shook it once, pulling me close. “I must know everything so my brain doesn’t explode.”
“You and me both.” I laughed again.
Arthur grabbed my hips, pulling me away from Grasshopper with a stern look. “What I want to know is how Cleo came into our possession.”
My laughter faded as Arthur’s voice drifted into strict business. “Explain to me where she was taken, who stole her, and what the fuck was the bullshit someone told me of her being his whore?”
My head snapped up. “What?” I looked between the two men. “Whose whore? I was nobody’s—”
Arthur cringed. “Nothing. I was told a lie about who you are in order for me to go ahead with the sale. I want to know who came up with it, so he can answer my goddamn questions.”
Grasshopper shifted on the spot. “Bazza. He told me that he got her from the Dagger’s, along with the other girls and she’d been in his bed. His bed, dude. I mean—it couldn’t be more of a fucking slight now that we know.”
Oh my God. My head. It couldn’t continue on like this, with half-truths, vague recollections, and hidden agendas. “Will someone please tell me what the hell all of this means?”
Grasshopper looked to Arthur, sharing a look that spoke volumes but remaining silent with answers.
Ignoring me, Arthur balled his hands. “You do realize I will get to the bottom of this, and when I do, I hope to fuck those I trust aren’t involved.”
The room’s oxygen wassucked into a vacuum. Grasshopper turned cold and menacing. He morphed into a biker with a vendetta—just like his president. “Someone has to have been working us from the inside. Shit.” He dragged hands through his hair, messing up his mohawk till it stood up in every which way. “Fuck!”
Arthur matched his anger with his livid face and highly strung muscles. “I want to know who, Hopper. And I want to know now.”
Fear charged down my back; I wanted to run from their palpable energy building like a cyclone. Lighter Boy. It was him.
Before I could announce my epiphany, Arthur muttered, “The complications and consequences of this are gonna bring everything we’ve been working toward to an end.”
Burn, baby girl. Burn.
I shivered. “What do you mean?”
It was Grasshopper who answered. His voice low and anger lacing every word. “It means those motherfuckers have used us again. First him, now you.”
Arthur’s fists turned white.
“Prez, didn’t think I’d see you here.” Mo appeared, his blond hair sticking up as if he’d just pulled his bike helmet off. His gaze fell to mine but he kept his questions hidden.
The tension that’d built in our small group faded thanks to the newcomer.
Arthur looked at him, his eyes dark and suspicious. “Are the other guys here?”
Mo shook his head. “No, just us. No trades today. No meetings. A lot of them are having a family day.”
Arthur nodded. “Good. We’re going on a little trip.” Dragging a hand through his long hair, he said, “The four of us are going on the hunt for fucking answers.”
Finally!
Arthur took my hand. “It’s time to unravel this mess once and for all. And when I find out what the fuck it all means…”
Grasshopper stepped forward, his hands curling by his sides. “It means we’ll finally have what we’ve been working toward all these years.”
Goose bumps scattered down my spine.
“Vengeance,” Mo muttered, his face glowing with eager pride. “Down with denial. Death to the traitors.”
Arthur nodded. “It’s time for war.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pain came in many forms.
Loneliness.
Betrayal.
Sacrifice.
But I’d found love to be the most painful of all.
I was invincible when no other emotion controlled me. I was single-minded in my determination to deliver justice. I had a gift of blotting out the world and throwing myself into numbers, calculations, and vengeance.
But when Cleo looked into my eyes with the same soul-depth connection we’d shared all those years ago, it fucking crippled me.
I became useless. Weak. Besotted.
I wanted to forget about all my plans and run far away to keep her safe.
Yet even though she granted me happiness with her tender touches and smiles, there was a blankness inside her, too. A scary void that blocked out all we’d shared, leaving me even more alone than before.
I loved a stranger. A stranger who knew me better than I knew myself.
Who would’ve thought her love for me could hurt so much?
Who could’ve thought my heart would break all over again knowing she’d forgotten?
Forgotten everything I’d whispered to her.
Everything we’d promised.
—Kill
The wind whipped in my face as I clung to Arthur’s waist.
It seemed life went from normal speed to hyper-overdrive. The moment he’d decided to solve the riddle that was my life, we all sprang into action. No planning, no hesitation.
A collective nod and intelligent men turned into hunting savages—focused on one goal.
I was surprised Arthur hadn’t thrown me over his shoulder and tossed me onto his bike with the rage he was in. The anger he kept wrapped around himself had been refastened after our tryst; he was back in full command.
He’d captured my wrist and the four of us stormed to the garage and its awaiting steeds. Instead of velveteen horses and lances, the knights defending my honor climbed aboard their trusty Triumphs and cocked their guns, ready for battle.
I just hoped there would be no war and answers would put aside whatever feud Arthur had with people I didn’t know. I wanted life to be simple again—not the messy ball of lies it had become.
I’d tried to speak to Arthur over the whipping wind as we shot down roads beneath hot sunshine, but with helmets and the insane pace he pushed his machine, my voice had no hope of being heard.
His body was tight, fists white around the handlebars. My body plastered against his in a borrowed leather jacket.
City, suburbia, then highway became my view as the rumble and thunder of three Triumphs ate tarmac with ravenous speed.
I had no idea where we were going.
Twenty minutes went by—zipping and weaving down roads and highways.
Forty minutes—my front grew sticky and hot pressed against Arthur’s powerful back.
Fifty minutes—my spine tingled with foreboding the longer we traveled.
An hour.
And still we rode.
The roar of not just our bike but Grasshopper and Mo’s too no longer lived in my ears but in my soul. My heart purred to it. My stomach churned to it.
Family sedans slowed down to let us pass. Big rigs moved off the median to let us charge in front. Was it respect or fear that gave the bikers the road? Either way, their throttles remained high and tires chewed up tarmac as cities disappeared behind us.
We finally slowed and entered a small town. We meandered down lanes and through suburban neighborhood perfection. At every corner, my heart beat harder.
I—I know this place…
My eyes fell on a park complete with faded monkey bars, seesaw, and swing.
My world disintegrated.
“Would you let me kiss you if I pushed?”
I spun around, locking eyes with the boy who, until last week, hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. He’d been so mean when I’d asked him to watch TV with me while my parents were out, I’d cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t understand how we’d gone from being so close and sharing our deepest secrets to being complete strangers.
My mom said Art had needs and I would understand when puberty happened to me.
I’d scoffed and said puberty sucked.
Art had needs—I was his need. Stupid boy just hadn’t figured it out yet.
I scowled. “What are you doing here?” My hands tensed around the chain of my swing. I didn’t want him to see the hurt in my eyes or the love in my heart. He didn’t deserve me anymore—not with his horrible behavior.
Art moved in front, grabbing the chain so my swing snapped to a halt. His groin was eye level and I swallowed hard.
Bending over me, he whispered, “I’ve been a fucking idiot, Buttercup.”
“Don’t swear and don’t call me Buttercup.”
He smiled, but the grin didn’t meet his eyes. He looked sad and lost and afraid. “Did I ruin it? Did I break what we had?”
My stomach twisted into bows.
Letting his grip trail down the chain, he captured my hands and squatted in front of me so he now looked up as if begging. “Cleo. I know I was an ass to you. But… I miss you.”
A large ball wedged in my throat.
I miss you, too.
I love you.
I want you to love me the same way.
Everything I wanted to say slammed against the ball in my throat, keeping me mute.
His cool hand landed on my cheek, smelling metallic from the chain. “We promised a while ago that we’d forgive each other anything. Will you do that for me? Will you forgive me for hurting the one girl who I love more than anyone?”
I almost fell off my swing; it was only my death grip that kept me upright. Love. He loved me. Like a sister? A friend? An annoying little tagalong?