Page 22 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

8

River

Somehow,whenever I have sex with Knox, I always need a fucking shower afterward. There’s always cum and blood that needs to be washed off, and I always feel refreshed and better afterward, as if the sex plus the shower is some kind of magic combo that turns me into a whole new woman.

So I’m not really complaining.

I step out of the shower, toweling my hair dry as I look in the mirror. My silver hair looks darker than usual when it’s damp like this, and my pale skin is a little flushed from the rough fuck and the heat of the shower.

Dragging my lower lip through my teeth, I press my fingers to the spot where he wrote ‘mine’ in our blood. It’s gone now, washed away down the drain, but I swear I can still pinpoint the exact spot where the letters were formed.

It would scare me if I thought too much about it, so I don’t. It’s just Knox being Knox. He’s possessive and weird and gives in to his impulses whenever he can. It was just a passing fancy or something. Something that doesn’t mean all that much. To him or to me.

That’s what I’m going to let myself believe, anyway.

It’s easier like that, and I don’t have time to get locked in my head, wondering what it all means.

Leaving the steamy bathroom, I slip into my bedroom to get dressed, throwing on some clothes before heading back downstairs. Now that my mind is a little more clear, I’m determined to get back to the task at hand. I want this shit wrapped up before I get dragged in any deeper with the Kings.

Unfortunately, despite the fact that the guys seem as motivated as I am to figure this shit out, we don’t make much progress for the rest of the day. We’re still chasing stray leads and going around in circles because there are just too many unknowns to be sure who the fuck put Ivan’s body there. The things we know don’t change, and the things wedon’tknow just seem to grow more and more numerous.

It’s not like Ivan was some small time crook. He had connections that spanned the whole city. Hell, the whole state and beyond, probably. There are so many people who could have taken issue with him being killed and decided to show their anger this way.

There’s just too much ground to cover, and all we have are guesses.

We go around and around, getting more and more irritated with the lack of any solid footing to stand on, until late afternoon when the guys have to go into the club.

“We’ve been neglecting too much shit there,” Gage says as he grabs his keys. “With all this other bullshit going on.”

Priest hums a sound of agreement, and the other two men nod. Neither Ash nor Knox look super excited about having to handle what will probably be some pretty mundane business, but neither of them complain either. It’s clear they’re all used to sharing the workload at the club, and that they all take it seriously.

They head out a few minutes later, leaving me home alone.

This isn’t like the last time I stayed with them, and it hits me that I could just leave. Skip town if I wanted, and leave no trace for them to hunt me down with. No one is here to make me stay, and it’s not like we have some deal in place that makes it so they can tell me what to do.

That ship has fucking sailed.

I could go wherever I wanted and be free of all this shit for once.

But even just thinking about it, I know I’m not going to go anywhere. The guys would find me. I’d have to go pretty damn far away to keep them from hunting me down and dragging me back to this house. It would be a waste of time to try to run away only to get brought all the way back, and Gage would be in a foul fucking mood the whole time. Not really worth it at all.

I tell myself that’s the reason I stay, anyway.

Still, being home alone makes me antsy. There’s nothing to do.

I try to kill time for a while, alternating between lazing on the couch, flipping through the countless TV channels the guys seem to have, and trying to get Dog to learn to fetch. He’s still being stubborn about it, and nine times out of ten, he just comes over for pets after I throw the stick.

Whatever.

I wander the house, going into the piano room and jabbing my fingers against the keys for a little while. Of course, it’s nothing like when Priest was playing in here. His fingers seemed to dance effortlessly over the keys, making hauntingly beautiful music. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I probably wouldn’t have believed he was capable of creating something so ethereal.

I remember how he looked, his light blue eyes shadowed and his jaw tight while I spread myself out on this piano, trying to tease him. Trying to get a reaction out of him.

In the end, I got what I wanted—and some stuff I hadn’t bargained for too. I had one of the most intense orgasms of my life, and I also got a closer look at Priest, at what makes him tick. Why he is the way he is.

It’s hard to forget.

Standing here, running my fingers over the keys, it occurs to me that we’ve spent all this time debating possible culprits for who put Ivan’s body on display, and the guys never once seem to have consideredmeas a possible suspect.

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