Three Ruthless Bikers : One Temptation

Chapter two : THREE KINGS

LENA'S POV

The basement wasn't a dungeon.

That was the first surprise.

It was cold, yeah, and the walls were bare concrete, but there was a bed with actual sheets, a lamp throwing warm light into the corner, and a small bathroom behind a wooden door that at least had a lock on it.

The second surprise was the dress.

Someone had left folded clothes on the edge of the bed. A black oversized t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and a pair of socks still in the packaging. No note. No explanation.

I stared at them for a long moment, then looked down at the silk wedding dress that had cost my parents more than they'd ever spent on me in twenty-two years.

I pulled it off and left it on the floor.

I didn't look back at it once.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, light was cutting through the small window near the ceiling. Morning. The sounds filtering down from above were loud, boots on floors, deep voices, the rumble of engines starting up outside.

I sat up slowly. My feet were still sore from running barefoot on the bridge. My cheek was still tender from where Margaret had slapped me.

I pressed my fingers against it and thought, she's probably furious right now.

Good.

A knock hit the door. Hard. Three sharp raps.

"You alive down there?" Axel's voice.

"Unfortunately," I called back.

A pause. Then the door swung open and he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, looking annoyingly well-rested. He'd swapped his leather vest for just a white t-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles underneath. The scar near his eyebrow caught the light.

"Ghost wants you upstairs," he said.

"Good morning to you too."

"It's not that kind of club, Princess."

I stood up, ran my fingers through my tangled hair, and lifted my chin. "Stop calling me that."

"Stop looking like one and I will."

He turned and walked up the stairs without waiting for me. I followed because what else was I going to do.

The main floor of the clubhouse was bigger than I expected. Long tables, mismatched chairs, a bar along one wall that was already being wiped down even though it wasn't even nine in the morning. Men moved around me like I was furniture. Some looked. Most didn't.

Ghost was standing by the window with a coffee mug and an expression that hadn't warmed overnight.

He looked at me the same way he had yesterday. Like I was a problem with no clean solution.

"Sit," he said.

I sat.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down too, setting the mug on the table between us. Up close in the daylight he was even more overwhelming — jaw like stone, tattoos running from his collarbone all the way up his neck, eyes that were somewhere between grey and green and gave absolutely nothing away.

"Tell me about the man you ran from," he said.

"Edmund Hale." I watched his face for recognition. Got nothing. "He's seventy-two. He paid my parents two million dollars to marry me."

"Paid them," Ghost repeated slowly.

"Yes."

"Not you."

"No. Never me." I kept my voice flat. "I found out three weeks ago. My mother sat me down, told me I should be grateful, and handed me a dress fitting appointment."

Ghost was quiet for a moment. He picked up his mug and took a slow sip, watching me over the rim. "He's going to come looking."

"I know."

"Men like that always do."

"I know that too."

"So you understand," he said, leaning forward now, elbows on the table, "that you brought his attention to my door."

I held his gaze even though everything in me wanted to look away. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Something shifted in his expression. Not softness exactly. More like he was reassessing something.

"You got family? Friends? Anyone?"

"No. No one."

The word landed between us and just sat there.

Axel appeared from nowhere and dropped into the chair beside me, spinning it backwards and straddling it like he owned everything in a five mile radius. He grabbed a piece of toast off someone else's plate as he passed. "She tell you about the old man?"

"She did," Ghost said, his eyes still on me.

"So what's the plan?"

"Still deciding."

Axel looked at me sideways. "You really told him to go to hell? At the altar?"

"I told Margaret to go to hell. Edmund got a no."

Axel grinned. It was the kind of grin that did something irritating to my stomach. "I like her."

"You like anything that causes trouble," Ghost said.

"That's not untrue."

Ghost set his mug down. "You can stay. For now. But you don't go near the back rooms, you don't ask questions about club business, and you don't leave the compound without one of us."

"I'm not a prisoner," I said.

"No," he agreed. "A prisoner doesn't get a choice. I'm giving you one. You can walk out that gate right now and take your chances with Hale's men on your own." He tilted his head. "Or you stay."

I thought about Edmund's cold damp hand around mine. About Margaret's perfume that smelled like a trap.

"I'll stay," I said.

Ghost nodded once, like that was already decided.

That's when the front door opened.

The man who walked in was tall, broader than Axel, with close-cut dark hair and a jaw that looked like it had been in at least three fights and won all of them. He had a cut on his lip, fresh enough to still be swollen, and he didn't seem to care at all. His eyes swept the room and landed on me immediately.

He stopped walking.

"Who's this?" he said.

His voice was lower than Ghost's. Rougher. Like gravel at the bottom of a river.

"Runaway bride," Axel offered helpfully. "She's staying with us."

The man looked at Ghost. Ghost gave a single nod.

Then the man looked back at me. He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He just looked, long and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.

"Lena," I said, because the silence was starting to press against my skin.

"Rook," he said back.

He walked past me toward the bar. I tracked him without meaning to, the way you track something that sets off every instinct you have, and not all of them were warning bells.

Axel leaned close to my ear. "Don't stare too long, Princess. He bites."

I turned to look at him. He was already smiling.

"So do I," I said.

The smile dropped half an inch. Then came back wider.

Ghost stood up, picked up his mug, and looked between all three of us with the expression of a man who already knew exactly how much trouble was coming.

He didn't look surprised by it.

He just walked away.