Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
AMES
Satin wouldn’t have betrayed me. Would she? No, I can’t believe it.
Then, even though I’d known Malachi had only ever perceived me as a nuisance, I’d never thought for a moment he’d go so far as to kill me just to get my inheritance.
It was only later, when I put the pieces together, I’d realised he’d meant me to die in the ‘accident’ that killed Gramma and Grandad, the only parents I had known, memories of my real ones lost in the mists of time.
I hadn’t had long to grieve them. My sadness at the loss of my grandparents had to be put on the back burner. As soon as I heard Malachi plotting my demise, and hence suspected my brother was involved in their deaths, my focus had been on survival.
Once I’d fled, I’d looked back through a different lens.
That time my car brakes had failed? It had been a miracle that I was only going twenty at the time, due to a traffic jam on the freeway.
And that drink that tasted odd? I’d only had one mouthful before spewing my stomach contents up.
Then there was the man who’d chased me with a knife in his hand.
Luckily, my college friend was an expert in martial arts and had disarmed him.
Recent events have put the past in perspective.
Malachi had tried to dispose of me many times.
Rattler is still lying over me. As I stare into his eyes, I wonder whether I’ve given this man the power to destroy me.
He’s heard as clearly as I have that Malachi would reward the man who finally ended my life.
Although I can’t fault how the Kings have behaved toward me—giving me a job, tolerating my mistakes, and, yeah, he’d been right to point it out—clumsiness.
But hey, what woman wouldn’t stumble when a stranger fondled their ass?
Despite that, the Kings in general have been pretty decent.
They are an MC, criminals on the wrong side of the law.
Was I wrong to lay everything out to him?
Would he, or his club, be tempted by easy money?
I can’t read him. He seems nonplussed by my story. Does he even believe me? In this stupid uniform the Kings give their servers, could he believe I come from a moneyed line and in a position to inherit a fortune?
For what seems like hours, Rattler has trapped me with his body, but now he slowly lifts himself away. Even freed, I remain where I am for a minute before pulling myself into a sitting position and placing my head into my hands.
Rattler’s right. Malachi has the means to find me, whether Satin betrayed me or not. And while I already know I can’t underestimate my brother, getting into the Royals tonight required skills I didn’t think he was capable of.
Running is obviously not the answer. But perhaps I’ve already come up with another option—asking the Kings to protect me, even if I can’t pay them for a year and a half. Or, could there be yet another solution?
Trying to analyse what he’s thinking, I regard Rattler.
He’s pacing, only two steps in one direction until he’s forced to return.
His face is aquiline, his features not unappealing, though his hair—it looks like he’s growing a short style out and definitely in need of some styling.
He’s not the tallest of the Kings I’ve seen, and not as heavily built as Freak.
He’s slim but fit. The way his tee clings to his body shows he’s sporting a six-pack.
Would I be attracted to him if I’d met him in the street with no idea of his character?
Well, the answer has to be yes. But I’ve seen how he acts around Royals.
He’s lazy, does what he has to but nothing more.
Even his brothers seem to lose patience with him fast. As a partner, he’d be a disaster.
But in the bind I’m in? He could be the answer to all my prayers.
“Rattler,” I start hesitantly, hardly believing the words I’m about to utter. “Would you marry me? I’d give you half of my inheritance. It would only be until the Christmas after next, eighteen months until I turn twenty-one.” If he killed me, Malachi would only give him a fraction of that.
His pacing stops. He stares at the wall in front of him.
When he finally speaks, it’s in such a low tone that I struggle to hear the words.
“If I were half the asshole the world believes I am, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.
” Then he swings around to face me, his lips thin.
“My loyalty is to my club, not to some bitch who’s in trouble.
” His eyes grow dark. “Your offer is tempting, but…” he waves his hand in my direction.
“I don’t even like you, woman. And I’ve never wanted to be tied down.
You’re far too young for me. I’m a man. I don’t want a little girl. ”
“It needn’t be real,” I rush to reassure him, suddenly convinced this could be the solution. “It would only have to be for two years, and only on paper. You’re only, what, ten years older?”
“Eight,” he corrects. He suddenly approaches, and as he looms over me, a look of disgust appears on his face.
“You think I can be swayed by money? I had nothing before I joined the Kings. This life they’ve given to me?
Fuckin’ means everything.” He pauses to run a hand through his hair, which does nothing to help his half-grown-out style.
All he succeeds in doing is making it stand up in spikes.
“If that’s such an easy solution, just go and ask a man off the street. Or, what about Joe?”
“Joe’s married,” I remind him.
As if he’s scored a point, he sneers. “So, you’ve already asked him. How many others turned you down before you got around to asking me?”
I don’t get riled easily. I’m more of a woman who likes to sit back and think before she says anything.
His words, though, have me prodding him in his chest with my finger and blurting out, “No, I didn’t ask Joe, or anyone else.
And now I’m regretting telling you fucking anything.
” This time it’s me raking my hands through my curls, almost ready to pull out my hair in frustration.
I move to turn away, half forgetting there’s nowhere to go in this goddamned closet we’re trapped in.
Swinging back around, I hiss at him, “Forget I ever told you anything.”
Lazily, he leans back against the shelving and shrugs. “Not sure I can do that.” He taps his head. “One thing going for me is that I’ve got a good memory.”
I feel exposed. I should have kept my mouth shut. I have no idea why, out of all people, I’d opened up to him. Even Satin doesn’t know the size of the inheritance I’ll get if I live for the next eighteen months.
Bile rises in my throat as I realise that I’ve given this biker, who I don’t even like, a hold over me. My voice isn’t quite steady as I ask, “Are you going to sell me out to my brother?”
His eyes narrow. He looms forward and smashes his hand into the wall behind me.
“You think I’d sell you out for money? Woman, you offered me half your inheritance, which I turned down.
I’m not fucking stupid enough to even dream I’d get more from this Malachi.
” He draws in a breath, then a lopsided grin takes over his face, “But it’s tempting.
Fuck, you annoy me. Would at least get you out of my hair. ”
His words do nothing to comfort me. I watch as he sighs, yawns, then takes a seat on the ground, propping his body against the shelving behind. When he seems to have gotten himself comfortable, he closes his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting some fuckin’ sleep. It’s going to be hours until anyone comes to let us out.” He breathes in deeply. “Sit the fuck down, Ames.”
Not so much because he told me to, but because I’m tired, I, too, slide to the floor. Now he mentions it, I am exhausted. I know, though, that my brain won’t switch off and let me sleep. Questions start coming from all sides of my brain.
Will Malachi be waiting once we do get out?
Will he have found Satin? It wouldn’t be unlike him to take her as collateral to force me to sacrifice myself. Which, as he knows, I would do. I wouldn’t be able to bear anyone else being hurt, not if I could prevent it.
Will Rattler tell everyone in his club about my inheritance? The staff at Royals? The least they’d do is treat me differently, the worst, sell me out to my brother.
And how will I get out of town without Malachi finding me first? God knows what information he has, and what drove him to come to Gravity looking for me. If his info is sound, he’ll hang around town until he’s found me. He won’t give up.
“Woman, fuckin’ relax, and stop fidgeting. You’re keeping me awake.”
I try, I really try. But with all the unanswered questions vying for top place in my mind, my muscles stay tight, and my leg bounces automatically.
The hopelessness of my situation starts to creep up on me.
I might not like working at Royals, but at least here I’d felt safe.
Now I’ve got to leave and start all over again.
I can’t control the exasperated sob that leaves me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rattler growls. “Look, I’ll speak to the club, see if we can provide protection for you, maybe even find out whether another chapter of the Kings would give you a place to stay.
We can certainly set you up with a new ID.
” He opens his eyes, focusing them on me.
“I take it your name’s really Ames? And you not having any fake papers is why you couldn’t present us with your documents? ”
My shoulders rise, then drop. “I wanted to get a new identity, but I didn’t have any money.”
He gives a slow nod. “Figures. Well, we can sort that and get you far away, somewhere you can hide for the next eighteen months and hope some fucker is stupid enough to put a ring on your finger before then.”
I glare at him, then realise what I haven’t asked. “Why would your club help me?”
He’s quick to answer. “You might not have the money now, but you will. I suspect the club would be prepared to keep you safe based on an IOU.” Again, his eyes narrow.
“And don’t think of skipping out on us. You might fear Malachi, but you’ve no idea what will happen to you if you fuck with the Kings. ”
I’d be happy to sign away anything, all my inheritance if it came to that. My staying alive is worth more than any mythical money, which I’ve done well enough without up to now. And that’s an idea. “I’d give you the whole ten million if you take Malachi out of the picture permanently.”
His eyes open comically wide. “What the hell kind of club do you think the Kings are?”
Dangerous ones, one-percenters, men who live outside the law.
There’s no doubt in my mind they wouldn’t hesitate to kill when it suited them.
I only have to recall that weekend bartender who was dipping his hand into the till.
He just disappeared one day, and no one’s heard from him since.
No one talks openly about it, though I’ve heard whispers in the corridors. Nobody fucks with the Kings.
He leans back again and closes his eyes once more.
But if the Kings won’t help me end my problem with Malachi permanently, there’s a huge hole in his plan. “I’ll need to stay hidden for the rest of my life unless I have a husband. Otherwise, at any point, Malachi will kill me to get my money.”
“Then you’ll just have to find some sucker to marry you,” he says, offhandedly.
“I’m sure there’ll be someone who’ll be tempted by your fortune.
” He pauses, then adds as an afterthought, “Though, of course, any husband might get so sick of living with you that he tops you himself. Bonus for him, he gets the whole ten million.”
My mouth drops open. “You are a fucking… asshole.” I’m trying to find a worse word but can’t immediately think of one.
“Yeah, that’s me.” He even sounds proud to own it. “Now let’s get some fuckin’ sleep.”
The only thing he’s said that I can agree with is that it’s going to be hours before anyone’s around to open the door. And I really don’t want to talk to him anymore. Have I ever met a more disagreeable person—except for Malachi, of course? I don’t think so.
When I try to lean my head back, it bangs into a shelf, which proves to be an uncomfortable pillow.
I take the alternative option, lowering myself down, curling into a fetal position with my head resting on my arm.
The floor’s hard and unforgiving, but I’m tired as hell.
My eyes grow heavy, but I still can’t relax.
While I try my best to ignore it, there’s a need my body has that’s more urgent than sleep.
I’ve been trapped here since last evening, and my bladder is full.
I shift, trying to find a position that eases the pressure on it, but only succeed in rocking the shelving behind me and sending something clattering to the floor.
“For fuck’s sake! What’s wrong now?” Rattler rears up.
Tears form in my eyes at my predicament as I’m forced to admit, “I need to pee.”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re in a closet stacked full of cleaning shit. There’s a bucket over there.” He points to it. “Use it for fuck’s sake.”