Vicious Heart (Desert Kings MC #2)

7. Riley

seven

Riley

Kenna only stayed long enough to fuss through what clothes I had, deem none of them Desert Lights appropriate, and hug me tight before leaving. Whatever she’d had to talk to Cam about had been a big deal. He’d left right after, his expression so serious I was concerned.

But I didn’t ask her. Not because I wasn’t curious, I was. I respected her too much. I had to trust that if I needed to know, Cam would tell me.

I was more concerned with the shadows that haunted his features when he’d left for the clubhouse. Not that he’d left me here alone. Jester and his adorable younger brother were playing cards on the carport.

They looked up when I walked out, the younger laying his cards face down on the table and standing to shake my hand. “Bennett Vaughn, nice to meet you.”

The facial structure was strikingly similar to Jester’s. High, sharp cheekbones, and a wide, sculpted mouth. The eyes were different. A smoky blue, almost gray, and his hair a darker brown than his older brother’s dirty blond. A shock of it kept falling in his eyes.

He was pretty, but on further inspection, his bottom lip was swollen and the knuckles on the hand I shook were covered in scabs.

“Jester, it’s not polite to smack your little brother around,” I commented as I sat at the table with them. It seemed rude to just hide in the house, especially now that I’d spent time with Jester. But I’d heard at The Black Cat that his brother also fought. I hadn’t expected him to be this young. He couldn’t even be old enough to drink alcohol.

He snorted, kicked back in his chair. “I’ve never hit the little bastard outside of sparring. He had a fight up in Reno last weekend. Dude was twice his size, but he still put him on his ass.”

With a sheepish grin, Bennett added, “Big doesn’t do much good when you can’t grapple and don’t put weight behind your punches. It wasn’t a fair fight, but I let him get a few knocks in, so he didn’t feel too bad about getting his ass kicked.”

“Have you both always fought?”

“Our Dad was a boxer back in the day. Kind of a family tradition. We grew up in a ring,” Bennett told me easily, happy to talk about something he loved.

I was happy to oblige him with more questions, but shook my head no when Jester offered to deal me in. “Is it the violence that is so enticing, or is it just another adrenaline rush like riding the bike?”

They exchanged one of those glances that said they’d both had the exact same thought at the same time, and the only person in the world to find it as funny as they did was each other. Then they both laughed.

Bennett answered. “The fighting is technical. Lots of training. Mixed Martial Arts requires a foundation in several fighting styles. Riding a bike is going as fast as you can, with no training, and hoping you don’t die.”

Jester’s eye roll was massive. “Or it is when you ride.” He leaned into me, talking in a fake conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a reason we call him Crash. As in Crash Test Dummy.”

“I’m buying a Suzuki GSXR one thousand.”

Jester snorted, then smacked his brother’s hand with the cards he held. “Stick to the ring, kid.”

“Watch me. You used to love a sport bike.”

“That was then,” Jester plucked a card from the deck on the table, then fanned out the cards in his hand and stuck it between two.

“Why not anymore?” Genuine curiosity perked me up. I hadn’t seen any of the guys ride anything other than a Harley.

“Desert Kings ride Harleys. That’s it.” He shrugged.

“It’s patch in, but I’m not swearing off fast bikes.”

“You’re going to get your damn self killed.” The older Vaughn turned to me, sunlight playing off the tattoos that ran all the way up his throat. “He rode motocross for years, tries to treat a Harley like that. Had my old crotch rocket for a while, drove it off a bridge—and it was just a pissy five hundred. Amazing the little fucker’s still alive,” he said with a mix of repressed fear and brotherly appreciation.

Bennett smiled proudly. “I’m still here.”

Jester shook his head and laid out his cards. “Gin, bitch.”

They were like that, back and forth with the ease of brothers—of two young men that had spent their lives taking care of each other. I’d been right, Bennett wasn’t even old enough to buy alcohol. Nineteen, five years younger than his brother.

Neither seemed like outlaws. They weren’t the scary men lurking in the shadows that Mom had warned me about. They were just brothers, playing cards one evening. Their presence made me feel secure, safe, as much from the normalcy in their interactions as anything else.

***

In my room—I thought of it less and less as Archer’s guestroom—I sat on the bed and opened the envelope the lawyer had given me. I’d left Jester and Bennett out back, cutting up and giving each other shit. I didn’t feel so alone whenever their chatter flitted in through the partially opened window.

But I was alone enough to go over the things Archer had left to me. For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like the rug was about to be jerked from beneath me. The stories Mom had told me about my father and the men around him no longer jived with what I knew the Desert Kings to be.

It was a family, one that might blur the lines between legal and illegal from time to time, but they took care of their own—took care of an entire town.

Archer hadn’t been the boogeyman. He’d saved Cam and he’d saved me.

I didn’t open the letter for Cam, but set it aside and dug for another, looking for one for me.

A folded piece of paper with the name Preacher scrawled across the front fell into my lap. Since it wasn’t in an envelope like Cam’s, I unfolded it. Two words written in that same writing took up most of the space.

You lose.

A knot lodged in my throat, expanded and constricted, forcing my breaths to come in broken bursts. A thrumming, static throb grew in my ears, consuming all other sound. Whatever Preacher was playing at—Archer had been too.

When I heard Preacher’s voice, I blinked to make sure I wasn’t stuck in some weird, waking nightmare. I hadn’t heard his bike pull up. Why was he here?

Still clutching Archer’s letter to him, I tiptoed into the kitchen and peeked out the window over the sink. He was there, chatting up Jester and Bennett. The creepy, ick inducing feel crept up my spine and left me cold and a little nauseous.

I texted Cam that Preacher was at the house. His response was immediate.

Stay inside or with Jester. I’m on my way.

Still hidden in the shadows of the kitchen, I eavesdropped. It wasn’t until I heard him tell Jester he could cut out that I stepped out the back door.

“Hey Jester, can I talk to you?” Keeping the panic from my voice had taken all I had.

“He’s just leaving, hon. They need to be training for the big fight. Not babysitting Cam’s ole lady.”

Jester ignored him, his face no longer affable and charming, but quiet and eerily calm as he watched me. “Nah, it’s cool.” He stood, walked to the steps, and tossed his arm over my shoulder. With an ease of a man comfortable around women, he led me inside.

Then, as if he realized he was acting out of character, he cut a wide, toothy smile. “What Cam don’t know won’t hurt him.”

Then he winked over his shoulder at Preacher.

“Jesus.” His brother tossed his cards down and rubbed a hand over his half-disgusted expression.

Preacher faltered long enough for us to take advantage and duck back into the kitchen, Jester shutting the door. We left him outside with Bennett.

Having dealt with his real flirtations, I hadn’t bought the act and wasn’t surprised when he dropped his arm and sobered as soon as we were out of earshot.

“What’s up?”

I glanced out at Preacher, he was glaring at the door. I scooted farther across the kitchen, ensuring he couldn’t see me. “I don’t want to be alone with him.”

If I’d expected him to scoff or laugh that off, I’d have been disappointed.

“I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on. But I’m not leaving any woman alone if she’s uncomfortable. Especially not a friend or a friend’s ole lady.”

No laughing, no joking, just matter of fact.

“Thanks.” I smiled at him as he leaned against the living room doorframe. “Is your brother okay?”

Outside, Preacher grumpily bitched at Bennett, though this time I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“He’s fine. He’s a tough son of a bitch.” Then he nodded toward them. “What’s the old fuck want, anyway?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced down at the letter in my hand, folded it neatly and held it close. “Maybe he found out I saw Archer’s lawyer today.”

“He’s probably panicked about the clubhouse. It’s a concern some of the guys have brought up.”

I thought about Archer’s letter. There had to be something else.

“It belongs to the Club. Archer had a bunch of business documents lined up. He left the land and the building to the Desert Kings.” It shouldn’t be a secret; it wasn’t something any of them needed to worry about.

Jester whistled. “You okay with that?”

“What would I do with it?” I snorted. “This is more than fair.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Preacher stepped through the back door without invitation. “You good in here?”

Until you showed up . “Sure.”

“How’d it go today?” He shuffled the bulk of himself into the kitchen between Jester and me.

Over his shoulder, Jester gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I didn’t ask how he’d known. “Fine.”

You lose. I clutched the letter to my chest. What game had Archer been playing at?

“What’s that?” He eyed it. “Just something I was working on.” I lied.

“Get everything settled?” He loomed over me.

“There are some bills to pay.” The rest wasn’t any of his business. “Kimbrell is the executor and handling most everything.”

“Nothing interesting, then? No more surprise children popping up?” He chuckled like his joke was funny.

“I wasn’t a surprise to those of you who knew,” I said, flat and without emotion.

Jester watched intently, face intense and jaw tight. Such a different look for him that I got chills. A reminder that Cam wasn’t the only dangerous one.

I moved around Preacher, closer to Jester’s side of the kitchen, almost gagging on the spicy cologne he wore far too much of. I had to bump into him to force him to step back so that I could open the fridge. I was petty enough that I pulled out a single beer and passed it to Jester.

And I adored him, because he popped the top and took a long swallow.

In the distance the roar of an angry Harley approached—fast. The closer the sound got, the antsier Preacher became.

“I was just making sure you didn’t need anything and everything was being taken care of.”

“Kimbrell is a pretty competent guy. I don’t foresee any issues.”

Obvious annoyance flashed in his eyes beneath bushy eyebrows.

“Is there anything else you need?” I kept my voice cool, calm. Inside, I was anything but. Even my trust in Jester was fragile.

I needed Cam.

I positioned myself near the kitchen drawer that housed the loaded pistol. The roar of the Harley engine was almost on top of us now. He’d be thundering up the driveway any minute. Because it wasn’t just any bike, I knew that sound as well as the beat of my heart. I could pick it out any of them.

Cam.

The older man switched tactics once he realized he would get nowhere before Cam got here, and I wasn’t so easily intimidated.

“You really want that alone time with Corey here, huh?” He insinuated with a perverse waggle of those caterpillar eyebrows. “Jumping to a new bike already.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Cam hop off his in one smooth motion as he shut it off.

“What the fuck, Preacher?” Jester spat. This time he didn’t bother hiding his disgust with the older man.

I sneered. “If you are implying I would ever have sex with anyone other than Cam—”

“You’d be out of fucking line.” Cam’s voice, sharp as a razor, cut me off.

Preacher made a show or rolling his eyes and shaking his head, like we’d overreacted. “I was teasing.” He didn’t turn to Cam, instead stared me down. As if he telling me I’d pay for this.

Cam went through him with a hard shoulder. He knocked the older man off balance. When he did, Preacher stumbled, red faced and angry. Then lifted his arm like he would punch Cam. Jester jumped in between.

Cam didn’t even flinch.

“Lets go have a beer and talk to the kid about the fight.” He grabbed a second one from the fridge. Friendly arm around Preacher this time.

The older man was tall, but it wasn’t until then I realize Jester was about the same height. The younger man didn’t use his stature to intimidate. Didn’t need to.

Cam turned to Preacher with a hard, blue-eyed glare.

There was a moment of hesitation in the older man. With a sneer, Cam turned his back on him to kiss me. Preacher turned and stomped out with Jester.

“I’m going to fuck him up if he comes near you again,” he growled, pulling me against his chest and holding me.

I hugged him tight, letting all the bravado I’d built up leak out. I didn’t have to hold it all together when Cam was here.

“He knew I went to the lawyer. Did you tell anyone?”

Cam stiffened. “No. Maybe Ro overheard something.”

If she told, it would break his heart.