Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

“Come on, man,” Gunner coaxes, a grin on his face. “Don’t give us that shit. We can see right through you.”

“Fuck off, all of you,” I bite out, but I can’t help the laugh that falls from my mouth. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt a sense of calm, a sense of camaraderie, and a sense that I’m part of a family I never expected to find here.

Most would argue they’re not my blood, but I’ll dispute that they’re my chosen brothers, and nothing can take that away from me. Not this time. And that’s when my phone rings.

9 Trinity

He’s been gone, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much. Even though I’ve been focused on school, I can’t deny my concentration has wavered a few times. Mom’s kept me indoors as if I were a fragile possession that could break at the mere sight of the sun. I’ve been allowed into the garden when she’s home, but other than that, she was adamant I wasn’t to step foot out of the house while she’s at work.

I don’t know who the men were who shot at Rogue and me, but something tells me he knew them. After the incident, he was far too calm, far too closed off. Even though I don’t know him that well, my intuition tells me there’s more to what happened than meets the eye.

A knock on the door startles me as I make my way to the kitchen. When I peep through the spyhole, I’m met with those familiar dark eyes that I’ve been thinking about constantly for the past few days. Twisting the doorknob, I pull it open and find Rogue standing on my doorstep.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets, his gaze tracking me from head to toe, causing my cheeks to warm. “You’re alone?” he asks, before leaning an arm against the doorframe, offering me a glimpse at his tattoos adorning his bare arm.

“Yeah, my mom’s gone to work.” I step aside as I say this, unsure of what he wants. He takes the gesture and walks into the house. “I thought you were gone on a job?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything more. I notice he’s carrying a bottle of bourbon, which sloshes as he stalks through the living room and makes his way to the kitchen. Once I’ve shut the door, I lock it again, and follow Rogue out the back door into the garden.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watch him for a moment. Dressed all in black, he looks like the damn grim reaper. I wonder if he found the man. I overheard them talking at the club—there was some guy Rogue was going to settle a score with. Most of the details I missed, but I know for a fact that he left town to find this man. To possibly hurt him or kill him. A cold awareness trickles down my spine. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t look at me when he says, “Need space.” He stumbles into one of my mom’s patio chairs and leans back to swig a mouthful of alcohol. After he swallows, he sets the bottle on the table and pulls out his cell phone. I watch his fingers tap across the screen and music filters from the device and I recognize Dermot Kennedy’s voice singing “Lost.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I straighten and take a step onto the smooth, wooden surface and ask, “Why are you here?”

I don’t expect the look he gives me. It’s drenched in grief and guilt swirling together like a toxic poison, which I’ll gladly swallow if I can make him feel better. The thought startles me. I don’t know him, not well anyway, yet I’m lost in the way he’s watching me.

“I don’t know,” he tells me before he picks up the bottle and takes another large mouthful of the amber liquid. He offers it to me, but I shake my head. “Suit yourself; more for me.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough,” I say, making my way toward him. The sky is dark, the stars twinkle in the inky dome hovering over us. And the moon is a sliver of beauty as it illuminates the garden while watching us. Settling beside him, I sit back and look up. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you, but you need to know that I’ll find out.”

A dark chuckle reverberates in his chest, and I think about how much I love the sound. “Oh yeah? My little spy likes to investigate shit she has no business knowing.”

“I’m not yours,” I retort but realize I want that. I want to have his attention, his eyes on me. Those dark orbs that hold secrets. I want to uncover those hidden depths and find what makes him tick. But I also want him to see me. And I can’t explain why he’s gotten under my skin.

Rogue tips his head to the side, regarding me under long, black lashes. The corner of his mouth quirks. “No?” He lifts the bottle, and I can’t drag my gaze away from how his lips wrap around the glass, and how his throat works as he swallows the harsh liquid. “I beg to differ,” he says.

“Oh?” Anger settles in my gut when I look at him, noticing his dark stare, which is filled with need I wasn’t expecting. “And what makes you think I want you?”

His mouth purses, causing his lips to pout with shimmering alcohol and I wonder what the bourbon tastes like from his lips. Shaking my head, I snap my attention to the garden, needing to calm the fluttering hummingbirds in my stomach and the thrumming heartbeat in my chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” Rogue asks.

“No.”

“Yeah?” This causes him intrigue, making him sit up, his dark stare locked on me. I can feel him watching me. It’s as if his watchful eyes are touching me, trailing their way over my hair, down my neck, and over my chest