Page 32 of Grave Games

“What I know is that it’s taking all I’ve got to not kick the dogshit out of you,” Romeo muttered almost to himself, his teeth bared. “Come at your sister again and I will. Don’t think you can stop me on that, Shy,” he added, glancing my way. “I know he’s your brother, and I know you love him. But he made a choice all those years back to let you be tortured by Marvel for three days—threefuckingdays—before giving Hades what he wanted. And he’s clearly made the choice to ride with Hades and the Chicago Gravediggers instead of trying to find a way to make his life worth living. That means he can’t be trusted to be anywhere near you.”

“You have the Gravediggers insignia plastered all over you,” I burst out, flinging a hand at his still-naked chest. It was a gorgeous chest, heaven knew, but it was tainted thanks to that image. “Help me understand. How are you different?”

“Different chapters, babe.”

“So?”

“So, different chapters, different worlds. The Chicago Gravediggers are seeing how deeply they can drive themselves into the ground by going for the fastest and most dangerous money—reason number-one they went hard on recruiting your cash-cow of a brother. I don’t discuss club business as a rule, and I’m not going to go into any detail about how many streams of revenue my chapter’s got coming in. But I can tell you that we’ve got plenty of legitimate businesses going on within our Gravediggers chapter, including a bunch of gentlemen’s clubs around town, a merch line, a top-rated brewery, and the biggest moneymaker of them all, a custom chopper showroom called Ride Or Die. We’re not into meth production.”

That sounded… not too terrible. “So you’re not a vicious gang of outlaws?”

“Oh, they are,” Josh said with a cynical scoff. “They’re just one helluva lot smarter about how they launder the money they get from running drugs, guns and prostitution through their many legitimate businesses. They’re actually trying to make a stab at trying to look like upstanding citizens, but they’re not.”

“Upstanding enough to live a life a man can be proud of,” Romeo shot back. “Can you say the same, asshole? You’re over there moaning about how goddamn awful your life is with Hades. But when offered a legitimate chance to get yourself an upgrade by coming over to Tyr, you don’t do shit. Fact is, you’re a failure at life, Josh McKeen, and deep down you know it. But at least you have Hades to blame for it, yeah? Jesus, with a built-in excuse like that, it’s no wonder you don’t want to leave the Chicago Gravediggers.”

“I can’tjustleave,” Josh gritted, visibly vibrating with tension. “No onejust leavesHades and lives to tell the tale.”

“Let me walk you in, talk things over with Tyr. I honestly don’t know if you’re worth the trouble, but for Shiloh’s sake I’m willing to stick my neck out for you this one time. After that, you’re on your own.”

Josh scowled at Romeo, his breathing audible while a muscle worked in his jaw.

“Decide,” Romeo snapped, clearly ready to throw him out. “I don’t have all day.”

“Tyr.” Josh whispered the name, as if he thought he might get struck by lightning just for uttering it out loud. “He’s Hades’s nephew. Right?”

“That’s right. President of the Gravediggers chapter—a chapter that Hades can’t go to war with without breaking the mother charter. Something we all hold sacred.”

“Hades holding anything but himself sacred…?” Josh shook his head, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of wetness in his downcast eyes. “That’s something I can’t imagine.”

Dear God, Josh, what did they do to you? What did Hades do?

“Is…” Josh’s swallow seemed to echo in the tiny kitchen. “Is there any way at all that Hades can attack your chapter, without breaking the mother charter?”

“The First Blood rule,” Romeo said, lifting a shoulder. “If we draw first blood on him—which we won’t—he has the right to defend himself. And then it’d be war. But that still has nothing to do with you coming over to our side. If and when war ever breaks out between Hades and us, you’d be kept out of it.”

“Make the call.” Josh’s eyes lifted to Romeo, and for the first time since he’d shown up, I saw a flicker of life in their depths. “I can’t go to Gravedigger turf, but… I can meet Tyr here.”

“Here?” I blinked, brought out of my musings enough to wonder when my life had plunged straight into biker world. Probably when I’d taken a biker to bed. “Here? As in my apartment, here?”

“Better put more coffee on, Shy girl,” Romeo said, spreading his hands wide. “Looks like we’re going to have a visitor.”

Chapter Eleven

Hit-and-Run Seduction

Why was it the one faction of human beings I’d avoided like the plague—the faction known asbikers—was the one faction that now populated my life to the point where I couldn’t even turn around without bumping into one?

It wasn’t fair.

Luckily I had a couple hours to get ready for company—though labeling scary-ass bikers ascompanywas borderline ridiculous. But I’d learned that life was often a conscious choice. For instance, right now I had a choice of freaking out over this latest turn of events, or I could choose to treat the situation as a normal meet-and-greet social event. I chose the latter, which was why there was a pot of creamy herbed chicken and dumplings simmering on the stove. I also had my amazing knock-off version of Cheddar Bay biscuits sitting in a warming basket on the counter, and I had just pulled a batch of chocolate chip cookies—made from a tube of cookie dough I had tucked away in the fridge as my guilty pleasure—from the oven when the doorbell rang. My brother, sticking close to me in the kitchen, nearly jumped out of his skin before shooting a panicked look toward the open archway leading to the front door.

“Relax,” I said, at last speaking to Josh after he’d dumped all his mind-blowing revelations on my doorstep. I was still trying to make peace with how I wasn’t the one who’d ruined his life and our family, so I wasn’t in the chattiest of moods. “If it was Hades, I doubt he’d politely ring the doorbell.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He took in a breath that shook, then watched me slide cookies from the sheet to a wire cooling rack. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know. Freshly baked cookies and a warm, home-cooked meal of Granny’s chicken and dumplings isn’t something a Chicago Gravedigger—or any kind of Gravedigger—is going to appreciate.”

I didn’t answer. He probably wouldn’t care that going through the familiar motions of making a meal and treating this like an everyday situation was how I was keeping myself from having a nervous breakdown.

His short sigh spoke volumes. “Look, Shiloh, I… This wasn’t how I thought things were going to go today.”

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