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

Turned out, it wasn’t that bad. Kind of like coffee and dessert rolled into one.

Magenta went to work, chopping vegetables, shredding meat, throwing together the fanciest eggs he’d had in his life, complete with buttered toast and shredded hash browns that she fried with mild, sweet onions. It was more French or American than he was used to. The Hell’s Fury MC cooked Tex-Mex, the hotter, the better, but he didn’t want to insult her by asking for habanero or ghost pepper sauce.

“Whatcha think?” she asked between bites when she sat down to eat. Quake met her gaze. She looked calm enough, but her pulse spiked with nerves.

She was worried about what he thought of her cooking.

He smiled warmly, hoping to reassure her. “It’s good,” he told her, making certain to keep his voice down and their conversation private. With those maned wolf eyes and ears, she should understand him with no problem. “Really good.” He shoveled in another forkful and chewed enthusiastically.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or leading her on. Maybe she didn’t know it, but it went against gargoyle nature to lie. Prevaricate, yeah. Skirt around something? That too. But deliberately telling an untruth was physically painful to one of their kind.

“Good good?” she asked him. “Or are you humoring me and it’s bad good?”

“Bad good?” he repeated, grinning. “That’s a new one on me, duchess.”

She rolled her eyes. “You might just be telling me you like it so I don’t feel bad.”

“Honestly, I like it,” he told her, pressing a hand over his heart. “I do. It’s as good as that TV chef. What’s her name? Rachael Ray? Yeah. It’s at least as good as anything Rachael fixes.”

A smile spread over Magenta’s luscious lips. Returning their focuses to their plates, they ate in silence for a while.

“We usually don’t get up until noon,” she murmured, careful to keep their conversation between the two of them. “But I can give you a lift back to your place in my car.”

Quake’s mood dipped. “You don’t want me to hang around just in case?”

Magenta shook her head. “Amos and the other bouncers will be around from lunchtime on, and it’s broad daylight. The Death’s Heads would be crazy to pull anything now.”

Quake wasn’t so sure. As much as he would welcome spending more time with Magenta, he’d rather have her stay safe here than ferry his ass around. “I can have someone come get me.”

She insisted on having her way. “No, I have errands I need to run. I can leave a note for the others so they don’t worry. I’ll probably be back before anyone gets up anyway. I won’t live in fear. If I do, then Phantom’s won. Knowing Belle, she’s warded the property by now. She’s done it a few times before so people with bad intentions can’t get through the magical barrier around us.”

“Must be handy having a Fae in the house,” Quake remarked, forking more of her fancy eggs into his mouth.

“Belle is like family to all of us. She’s more than an employer. She took each one of us under her wing, and she watches out for us all,” Magenta told him. “Everyone is here by choice for as long as we choose to stay. We’ll all move on eventually, but when anyone leaves, she’s our biggest supporter, sending us off with faery blessings and letting us fly free.”

She sighed wistfully. He wondered if she was thinking about former coworkers or if she was dreaming of the day when she’d be ready for the next best thing.

The thought that she’d leave—just one day up and disappear—was disturbing as all hell. In his mind, she was always there to watch . . . to listen to . . . to dream about. What she said about moving on made sense. That’s what the girls here did. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially after being with her last night.

“What would you do?” he questioned abruptly. “If you left.”

Magenta’s violet gaze sliced to his. “Open my own business maybe. Do something I have control over.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It’s a long way off anyway.”

Hearing it, Quake was able to relax again. The unfamiliar tension that had been coiling around his chest eased.

They finished up their breakfast and coffee, scraping any leftovers into the compost bin while she washed the plates.

Magenta dried her hands. “I just need to fetch my license and keys. And write a note so no one worries when I’m not here. It won’t take long.” Guiding him to the front door, she unlocked it and let him slip out.

The nip in the early morning air made him glad for his cut. Breathing deeply, Quake stretched, surveying the scenery around him. Last night the front of the club had been packed with cars. Now the lot was empty. Nothing stirred. As far as the eye could see, it was quiet. Peaceful.

He sincerely hoped it stayed that way.

Hearing the door open, he turned to find Magenta sneaking out with a leather purse hanging from her shoulder.

“Come on, it’s this way.” Beckoning, she headed around the side of the house.

They walked toward one of the outbuildings being used as a garage. The long, open-front shed had a concrete floor, wooden walls, and a corrugated tin roof. It looked like something used to shelter livestock when this was a working ranch.

Quake scanned the parked cars, wondering which one was Magenta’s.

She stopped beside a purple classic Beetle with a beige interior.

He arched his eyebrows, wondering how she expected him to ride in that thing. “This yours?”

“Yup.” She smiled proudly, patting the top.

“It’s gonna be tight,” he pointed out, already not relishing being cramped inside.

Magenta pouted. “Hey, this is my baby. The trick is getting inside the right way.”

Quake eyed the vehicle, unconvinced. If he was seen in that, he was going to have a dented strong guy image.

“Get in the car,”