CHAPTER FIVE
Rush
Present Day
I rub the back of my hand where Dante, the two-year-old demon cat, scratched me earlier. That particular injury made Rose coo and Nikolai say, “Good cat.”
I have a pretty damn good relationship with that cat, but Nikolai’s lost his mind and thinks Dante’s gonna make a good attack cat.
“There’s no such thing as attack cats, Nikolai.” I rub my hand again.
“What was that?” Rose joins us in my room—I have my own place, but more often than not, I’ve been less about fucking hot chicks and more about hanging out at home and working. Dante’s purring, and Rose is wearing some slinky number as she hands me the cat.
“Your decrepit husband thinks he’s training Dante to be an attack cat.”
“If anyone can do it, it’ll be Niko.” She runs her gaze over the outfits I pulled out. “Wear the jeans and the black sweater. The worn blue ones and the boots. Perfect first date clothes, trust me.”
“Did he tell you about my date, Rose?”
She slides an arm around Nikolai’s waist as he joins us. “There aren’t any secrets.” She rises in the sleek heels and kisses him, and fuck, do they look good together. “We ready?”
He lets her go before he turns his finger in the air, and she spins. “Fucking perfection, Rose. Well, almost. Wear the black collar, the new one.”
She turns and looks at me. “Stay out of trouble.”
Once she’s gone, Nikolai just smiles after her, and I shake my head.
I don’t think others see the massive changes in him. Mia, Tony, and Garcia have noted the small ones and said so, but what’s small to them is huge to me. Rose has made him whole, softer where it counts. She gives him light and whatever else it is that makes them so good together.
There are times I don’t recognize him. He’s not driven by hate or the urge to destroy those who’ve hurt his people. Although, I’m not dumb; he’d turn into that if he had to. He just hasn’t had to.
He smiles more, gives me more responsibility, and he’s content not to push. Our world is still deadly, but his strength and power is such that no one’s stupid enough to come after him.
Plus, he has allies.
Rose, too, has people falling all over themselves for her. Together, they rule.
Together. Something I never thought Nikolai would ever do—share with someone, especially with Rose, his oldest enemy’s daughter.
“What’s tonight?” I ask.
He shrugs. “There’s an art opening. Just info gathering. Plus, Rose wanted to see the show.”
“Rumbles?”
“I don’t know yet. Be careful, though. Stay in our areas or those you trust.” Nikolai sighs. “Don’t want you dead. After all, I might get out of the game, give Rose the life she deserves.”
“No one ever really gets out.” Those are the exact words I’ve heard him say.
“Maybe, one day, I’ll give it a go. Have a kid with Rose.”
Dante meows loudly. Exactly, little bro, exactly. “Isn’t the cat enough?”
“Maybe he wants a sibling.” Nikolai laughs. “I don’t know. I just thought, maybe I could go and reverse the snip I had years ago for her. Though…this world…”
Yeah, he’s terrified of bringing a child into the world. We’ve all had fucked up lives. Mine may be slightly better than Rose’s because Nikolai gave me stability, love, a home, but I get it. The world isn’t kind, and bringing a kid into our world of death and destruction and violence? Yeah.
Nikolai would also do anything for Rose, even face his demons.
“If she wants them,” I say.
“If.” Then he shakes his head.
“Christ, am I actually considering this? I must be if I’m talking to you about this bullshit.” He ruffles my hair. “Have fun. We won’t be out too long.”
As he leaves, I meet Dante’s eyes. “Famous last words.”
E loise Fenton isn’t my type. She’s old money, but she’s been flirting with me for ages, so I asked her out. She’s also gorgeous, so…
I park at the far edge of the lot, right near the exit. Old habits die hard. Bunny Munroe is a dive with a slight upscale vibe, cool enough that moneyed kids love it, like slumming it in comfort.
It’s on Smith family territory, so it’s keeping with Nikolai’s warning. I’m not a kid anymore, so when he gives out warnings like this, low and off-hand, I pay attention. Ally territory it is.
Punk music, old school—I’m pretty fucking sure it’s the Sex Pistols on about anarchy in the UK pours out the door as some dude stumbles out.
When I head inside, the girl behind the bar winks at me. She’s got cat eye liner, tats everywhere, and a black sports bra beneath a thin, torn white shirt with ‘Bukowski was a jerk!!!’ written on it.
I pull up a barstool just as a pretty, brown-haired girl comes in. I don’t get to ask what she’s got against Bukowski apart from his misogynistic streak, because the girl, Eloise, sits next to me and gives me a powdery sweet flower kiss. She’s wearing white jeans and a pastel pink floral shirt, the complete antithesis of this place.
The bartender raises both brows at me and gives an exaggerated nod of approval.
“Rush,” Eloise says. “I got lost finding this place. How are you?”
“I’m good—”
“What’ll it be?” The female bartender leans across the bar, and the swell of her heavy tits are visible and tattooed. She taps a hand covered in rings of the thick, heavy, goth and punk type on the wood. “Two white wine spritzers?”
“A whisk—”
“That would be wonderful,” Eloise speaks all over me. She giggles. “Not much of a drinker.”
“Light,” says the bartender in a low, smoky voice that slips into me, “on the wine, heavy on the seltzer.”
She turns her back on me, and what I took for an asymmetrical, long pixie dyed a dark red is an edgy pixie with a buzz undercut.
“Or would you ladies both prefer seltzer?” she asks. This chick is annoying. Hot, but annoying.
“That!” Eloise smiles.
“Two seltzers—”
“And a whisky back,” I say, “for me.”
The bartender winks at me again. It’s like flirting in boxing form; quick powered jabs. It’s hot….and I’m not here for her.
“A man who lives on the edge,” she says, almost purring. “I like it.”
She takes off to get the drinks, and Eloise starts to tell me about her day, then her week. Her parakeet. I placate myself with thoughts of her bouncing on my cock later.
I bet her pussy is tight. Then my mind drifts to whether she swallows. Maybe she could be buttoned up in public and a freak behind closed doors. Now I imagine her tied up, O-ring in to shut her endless talk the fuck up, and her bouncing hard on my cock.
Unfortunately, that nasty little fantasy sort of fades when she keeps on. Fitting in words becomes a losing battle, so I give up.
My mind begins to wander, backpedaling into what it knows best: family business. To Nikolai and his desire to leave it.
Thing is, I don’t think Nikolai will retire for all the talk. It’s too in his blood, and where we’re at, he can afford to relax a little. He’s got Rose, who can be bloodthirsty.
I mean, he wouldn’t. Not for real.
Would he?
Shit. Fuck. Shit. What would that mean for the old heir apparent, a.k.a. me? Would I be expected to step in, take over, become Nikolai Wilder the second?
Nikolai kills people. A lot of people. He’s practically a one-man killing machine with a hard on for revenge, Old Testament style.
He does have Rose, the woman who changed him, who makes him happy. The woman he’d do anything for. What…what if he means it?
I don’t think Dante can take over.
What the fuck am I thinking? Dante is a cat. He’d plot to take over the world given that kind of power.
I’m being fucking stupid, I’m aware, but shit. Would I be expected to take over? Really?
I don’t think I could handle it.
I’m tough. I’ll kill, but I’m not Nikolai. I’m not as ruthless as him. I—
“Well, I’d love to say this has been fun,” Eloise says, standing, “but I don’t like being ignored.”
“I’m not…” Oh, shit, I was.
“You did for twenty minutes. My cut off is fifteen.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m not; she bored me senseless. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll see you around, Rush.” Eloise stomps off.
The bartender is back. “Another seltzer?” She punches my arm. “It would never have worked. Did you see that outfit?” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, right, you weren’t paying attention. Just thinking about her outside of it.”
I snicker. “Hey, I’m a guy. Of course I was.”
She leans her hip against the bar and puts down two shot glasses, pouring tequila in both. “Bottoms up.” The redhead downs hers. “Only the best paint stripper at Bunny’s.” Her eye twitches.
“Light weight.” I do the same, and it burns all the way down, taking flesh with it. “Jesus fucking Christ. It’s more like fast-acting acid.”
“Shit. Got me the wrong bottle.” She puts it away. “Hang on.” She stalks to the other end to serve someone. When she comes back, she bends to pull some beers from a cold box.
Fuck, does she have long legs. Her jeans are black, tight, and covered in ripped holes. There are two, silver-studded belts slung around her waist, and Docs on her feet that are there to serve, not to be seen. On her back, neck, and arms are more tatts, intricate dragonflies and tiny creatures that look as beautiful as they are vicious.
Whoever she is, she’s already caught my interest.
“So…” She pops the top of a beer and takes a swig. “What’s one Rush Rhodes doing in this dive? Your favorite slumming-it joint?”
“I like this bar.”
She slides the beer to me, before taking the seltzers and dumping them. It’s my favorite IPA, and as she leans on the bar, she nods at it. “I don’t have cooties. They make you take a test.”
“Can I see the results?”
She laughs, but it’s laced in sarcasm and annoyance. “That preppy number gave you twenty? I’d have given you five and a black eye. Five because you’re pretty, the eye because pretty pisses me off.”
“You’re pretty,” I say.
“Not sleeping with you, and you get drinks regardless of lies.”
“I was hoping you’d bring me drinks in bed.”
She pulls me close, and her mouth is on my ear. “Babe, if you and I are in bed, serving you drinks is gonna be the last fucking thing on your mind. I’ll send you to heaven, and have you begging for mercy every step of the way.”
She licks my ear, and a bolt of electricity shoots straight to my dick so fast, I jolt upright in my seat.
Woah.
“I think you outplayed me. I back down and I look weak. I try to one up you and I’m a dickwad.”
Her smile blooms, and it’s wide and so fucking hot, I’d pay money to see it on demand. “Side move. Interesting.”
I consider her. “You got a name, Iggy?”
“Grandfather of punk, proto-punk. Impressed.”
I hold up my hands. “Look, ma, no phone.”
“I’m Jess.”
I nod at her. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”
“Fuck nice. Be genuine. I dare you.”
I lean forward. “I come in here a lot. This is the first time you’ve spoken to me.”
“I don’t use telepathy to get drink orders.”
“Not what I meant,” I laugh. She’s more fascinating than annoying.
Jess picks up the beer, hands it to me, and I take a swallow. It’s intimate, weirdly erotic. Maybe it’s that sizzle in the air as we look at each other, or the way our fingers touch. Or maybe it’s the fact that my mouth is where hers was, and I want to kiss her.
The moment shatters when she looks past me, pointing to the door. “No.”
I turn to find a big, biker-looking dude, and beneath the air of contrite is violence. “But—”
“I said no. Do not make me get my bat.”
“I’m having a drink,” the guy says, sneering.
No way am I letting him cause trouble. I don’t have my gun, but I know how to fight, and thanks to Niko, I can fight fucking dirty. I start to stand, but Jess grabs me.
“I said no, Chris. Out.” She stabs a finger at the door.
The guy grumbles, looks at me, and goes to take a step, but he must read something hard in my expression, that stillness that’s second nature to me, because he swallows and backs off.
While I’m not as ruthless as Nikolai—he’s a special breed—I can be ruthless. I can make men want to cry. I can be mean as I want. My charm is me, but it window-dresses the uglier parts. This man, he sees it, just like he sees I’ll do what it takes to bring him down.
He waves a hand and stalks out the door.
“You need back up,” I say. “A bouncer.”
“I can handle myself.” Jess takes my whiskey and downs it. “And you don’t know me.”
“But you know me?”
“I recognize you, and you’re better when there aren’t dumb fucks hanging off you like parasites. Or stupid girls with fake tits.”
She’s not wrong about my friends, but I don’t see them much. I like keeping a foot in the normal world occasionally, just to see what it’s like.
“You,” I say, “forgot the boring ones.”
“Don’t remember. Tell me about them,” she says and refills our glasses.
“I’ll let you know about them in twenty.”
“Is that your bedroom talk? Tell a girl about your boring friends and she’ll fuck you? I’m not sure how that works.” Then she flicks a glance over at the corner and sighs.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you’re into, pretty boy, but there are two, big, leather-clad dudes in the corner who find you a fuck of a lot more interesting than your date did.”
Shit. “All night?”
“Even now.”
“Not worried about them.”
She raises her brow. “They don’t look the nicest.”
“This is ally territory.” Normally, I wouldn’t say that, but considering I’m known and she knows my name, it’s not a problem, and even if it is, I don’t give a fuck.
But Nikolai gave me a warning, so maybe it’s best to call it a night.
I pull out my wallet, peeling off three twenties and dropping them on the bar.
She eyes it. “Last of the big spenders?”
“You know it. I need to jet; I’ve got an early morning. Catch you here soon, Jess.”
I wave and walk, noting the place is a hell of a lot emptier than when I walked in. It’s me, a guy in one corner and the two thugs. It happens, but it sets a little nugget of unease fizzing in my gut.
Still, this is Smith family territory, so I’m good as is Jess. I hit outside and look about, to the side of the bar, but it’s only the garbage cans. Maybe I should go in and tell her to call someone for protection.
Or maybe I’ve been thinking too much.
Shit. I need to—
Pain ricochets through me as something hard and rough hits my head, breaking on impact. I stagger back as light bursts in my eyes.
“Get him.”
Those fucks hit me with a bottle. I spin and kick, using my keys as a weapon as I punch the other in the eye. They both howl, but as I try to run, they grab me, and something hard and painful hits my stomach.
Knuckle dusters. The other has me now, and I twist and fight, going for a head butt and a kick in the nuts.
I grab one in a bear hug, as another picks up my legs. Fucker. Pushing forward on the dick who I’m holding, trying to break his ribs, I bring my feet hard into leg grabber’s nuts, right as the knuckle duster owner swoops in to swipe at me. I go down, taking the ass I’ve got hold of with me and I turn, slamming my elbow into that asshole’s nut sack.
Fuck me. I turn, so Knuckle Duster’s blow glances off my upper arm. Pain flares and I slam into the squealing man under me and then I kick out Knuckle Duster’s leg.
I roll, getting up to stomp the shit on the three of them, throwing punches low and dirty when one tries to come at me.
Someone hits me, and it’s not either of these two. I roll over, narrowly missing a fist to the face. Fuck. Jess’s friend.
Before I can move, someone whistles. “Hey dickwads! Back the fuck up, or you’ll be picking each other’s pubes out of your teeth for weeks!”
What does that even mean?
I roll again as a redheaded punk lands in front of me, swinging a pink baseball bat. She hits Chris in the balls, then the face and the back, and then hits the next one getting up.
“You gonna keep grabbing your beauty sleep or help me?” she asks.
I grab the nearest one and start to punch him when she yells. I stomp him in the face and turn, just in time to see one of the thugs with a gun and Jess by the hair. She twists before I can move, and I see her give him the middle finger, right as a knife pops up.
Jess curls in her finger and slams the knife in his neck. “Fuck off, all of you. That means you, too, Chris. I’ll end you next time.”
He comes at her, but I take the bat and hit him in the face. He falls like a log.
I look at her and grab her hand. “Run.”
We leap into my car, and I rip out of there, heading for the mansion. “Here.” I toss her my phone. “Text the first number. ‘Hot Five.’ Got it?”
“Code?”
“Yes, he’ll know what it means.”
The phone slips a little, and I glance at her. She’s a little pale.
“You okay?” I ask and she nods. “Who’s Chris?”
“A drunk biker who beat his woman,” she says, looking up at me, daring me to fight her on this. “I beat him. End of. The other two, they, uh…there’s a new gang. Not biker, but they’re connected and mean, and they’re looking for Wilder and Rhodes.”
She hisses.
“You okay?”
“I’m gonna need some fucking super glue. Fucker cut me.”
“There were four fuckers. Be specific.” I sideswipe a car and press on the gas.
I’m not worried about being pulled over. Nikolai owns this stretch. If Nikolai and Rose are where I think they are, they might beat us back.
“Who?” Shit, she doesn’t answer. “How bad?”
“Chris. His rings are sharp.”
I take my eyes off the road, and there’s a dark patch spreading on her shirt. Shit. Fuck. I push the car harder and take the road to the mansion.
The gates are open, the lights are on, and men are already on standby. I pull up with a screech and a gravel shower.
Nikolai and Rose are there, her shoes off as she runs over, barely beating out Nikolai, who strides behind her.
Gangs… Fuck, if this…if this is all related to what he’s doing, I might have put my foot it in it. I might have brought shit down.
He knows I’m coming in hot, he knows there’s a situation with the potential for added danger, but it’s not life threatening. Yet. That’s what five is.
He’s a little pale, and Rose’s eyes cut to the passenger’s side, seeing Jess. She almost beats me there.
Niko’s voice makes me wobble. “What the fuck’s going on, Rush? I warn—”
“I was at Bunny Munroe.”
He closes his eyes. “Smith territory.”
We can unpack that later. With Rose hovering close, I ease Jess out of the car.
Once she sees the blood, Rose swoops in to help me hold her up. “She’s bleeding! Get Mia.”
I look at Nikolai. Jess is breathing a little shallower, and even though she looks more annoyed than anything else, most of the color has drained from her overly made-up face.
“This is Jess, the bartender. She helped me get out of a scrap alive, and well… we need to help her. I fucked up, Nikolai. I know I did. Even worse, she said it’s gang related.”
“You bought a gang banger here?” Nikolai asks, brows raised.
Rose glares. “Niko.”
“She said I was being watched, so I left, and then I was jumped. She helped; she stabbed a guy in the neck.”
“Fuck.” Nikolai motions to the house. “Fuck, Rush.”
“Yeah, I know.”
A gang member bleeding out. She didn’t see it, but I did, all that blood when he went down.
“She got stabbed,” I go on as Jess’s eyelids begin to drop, and her body grows more limp in my arms. Fear grips me. “Shit! Nikolai!”
“We’re losing her,” Rose says.
Too much blood loss.
“I’m not a babysitter, Rush. We intervene, and this is going to cause a lot more shit. You know this.” Nikolai doesn’t look so sure, but I need to do something —help her in some way—because now, she’s going to be on the gang’s shit list, all because I didn’t follow protocol.
“Niko, stop,” Rose bites out. “We can’t just let the poor girl die.”
Nikolai just stares, saying nothing at all. I can see the wheels in his head turning.
Just then, Jess’s legs fully give out, and I swoop her up, cradling her in my arms and taking the rest of the load from Rose. Her head falls back, lost in unconsciousness.
“Please, Nikolai,” I beg. “It’s my fault. Please.”
I’m fully aware that he’s had to clean up after my mistakes too many times to count, but this…this isn’t just about me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Jess died, not after she saved me.
“Here we fucking go again.” Another tense minute passes, and finally, Nikolai rubs a hand over his face, seeming to have aged another five years in this one moment. Then, he sighs. “Fine. Bring her inside.”