Page 33 of Echoes of Fear

“Those are fighting words,” I glare.

“It’s not healthy,” he says, grabbing my hand and guiding me to the kitchen table.

“There isn’t a single coder in the history of existence that has been able to focus for days at a time without the wonders of over caffeinating themselves.”

“There’s no reason for you to focus on something for days straight without rest,” he scolds. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” I say sadly.

“Oh, I plan on being much more than your friend, baby boy,” he says, an evil glint in his eyes.

Everyone laughs, and my face heats.

“Not one for mincing words, I see,” I mumble. “Anyway, what’s this I hear about you not going to save your sister?”

“Naughty boy,” he scolds. “I trust King to get my sister to safety.”

“Then why didn’t you go to him in the first place?” I ask. “He has his own ways of finding people. He probably would have found her sooner.”

“We did, Knoxy,” Reynolds says, placing my creamy coffee on the table in front of me. “There wasn’t a trail for him to find.”

“And, he isn’t one for giving out information on his family,” Hayes says. “So, he didn’t even say that he knew someone that might be able to help.”

“We’ve known about Little Knox for a few years now,” Sullivan says. “The twins have mentioned you here and there afew times, but until our meeting with the entire club, we had no idea that you were computer-smart.”

“Little?” I ask. “So, everyone here knows my… uhm.”

“Your kink?” Reynolds says unhelpfully. “Course we do, Knoxy. We’re all members of Oasis. We know about all of the kinks.”

“All of you?” I ask. “I thought Taylor took over this club. How are you all part of the lifestyle?”

“Ben was the last bad member of the old club,” Sullivan says. “Taylor and Reynolds ran into the five of us at Obsidian Oasis one night, and we clicked. We explained that we were a new motorcycle club, but our founder’s son, and current president, was an ass.”

“A few months later, Taylor found the fucker in the middle of robbing an old woman and beat the shit out of him,” Hayes explains. “He simply said he was taking over and for him to take his trash and leave.”

“Nine people left the club,” Taylor tells me, eyeing my coffee. “These four and Ben were the only ones to stay behind. The way that fucker treated you snapped the last bit of patience toward the man I had left. Now, the club is just the men in this room.”

Taylor grabs my cup and takes a sip of my coffee.

His eyes widen and his face puckers as if he just tasted something sour.

Giggling, I take my cup back and take a few large gulps.

“We will be finding an alternative to that poison,” he tells me. “No way in hell am I letting you drink that every day.”

“Letting me?” I ask.

“Yes, baby boy. As innot allowing.”

“He’s very bossy,” I tell the room.

“Oh, Knoxy, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Reynolds winks. “But don’t worry. I’ve already told boss man that you and I are going to be best friends and gang up on him from time to time.”

I look at Taylor, his long black hair resting in a messy bun atop his head. His black beard neatly trimmed against his face, and his brown eyes alive with something that I can’t quite decipher.

Then I look at his friends. They’re all attractive in their own ways. All of them emit a power that has me feeling the smallest I ever have. But nowhere near as small as when I look back at Taylor.

Power. Authority. Dominance.

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