Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

can see my lie by just staring at me. Perhaps he can. Maybe he can see all the pain in my heart from knowing my father walked out on me. Even after he promised to be there for my graduation and my eighteenth birthday, which will be here sooner than I want.

“Are you sure?” Rogue asks, interest shimmering in the dark depths of his gaze. “Because I have a feeling, you’re . . .” He leans in close, stealing my breath with his own. Deft fingers trail along mine, and I almost drop the weight, but Rogue grabs it without effort and smiles. “Fragile.”

A laugh escapes me at his assessment. “Do I?” I challenge, stepping up to him, which I realize the moment I do it is a mistake. He’s taller than me, by a lot. And when I’m this close, all I can see, all I can feel, is him. Tipping my head back, I lock my stare on his. “I’m the very opposite of fragile,” I bite out. “My father taught me to have confidence, strength, and he always told me to stay loyal to my family.”

A chuckle rumbles in his chest, which only irks me more. “Oh yeah?” Rogue’s side-smirk has my anger simmering, and I’m about to burst when a shot rings through the air, and suddenly, before I have a moment to think, Rogue is on top of me, sheltering me from the onslaught of bullets being fired toward us.

When the screeching tires disappear, silence rains down heavily over us. The heat of him overtakes me, cocooning me, and in the haze that’s taken over my mind, my fingertips feel smooth skin.

I’m not sure how long we lie there, but the heat of him scorches every inch of me. And I realize all I hear is his breath in my ear. Goose bumps explode on my skin, and the feel of his thudding heart beats against me, reminding me he’s on top of me.

When I finally open my eyes, dark orbs hold me hostage. Our mouths inches from each other’s and our chests flush as we both take long, deep inhales. The corners of his lips inch upward, desire flits through his gaze, and for a second, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, and I realize I want him to—but he doesn’t.

Fierce embarrassment rushes through me, burning my cheeks, and I place my palms flat against his naked chest, shoving his torso from me. Rogue rolls over onto the grass, but he doesn’t make a move to sit up.

Pushing to my knees, I breathe deeply to calm my erratic heartbeat that’s racing because of two things—being shot at and having Rogue on top of me. Fear and desire mingle through my veins like a poisonous toxin taking hold of me. My lungs haul in air quick and sharp.

Rogue’s hand on mine has me opening my eyes to look at him before I ask, “What the fuck was that?”

“Language, little spy,” Rogue admonishes. “We don’t want your momma coming to whip my ass for your filthy mouth.”

I roll my eyes before I focus sharply on him, my gaze narrowed. “We have never had something like that happen in Anchor Bay.” My voice is strained, worry lacing every word. It’s true, our town is quiet, welcoming. We don’t get random shootouts.

“Someone’s clearly pissed off some bad guys,” he tells me nonchalantly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the club will have it handled.” Maybe he’s right, Snake will deal with this. He’s a good person, even though he scares me shitless sometimes. But that doesn’t make being shot at okay. When Rogue takes my hands in his, I glance down and realize he’s trying to calm my trembling.

I blink, and the tears that I’d held onto for so long tumble down my cheeks, trickling in a salty path to my chin. I’ve already lost my dad; I can’t lose my mom too. If these guys tried to hurt me, I’m almost certain they’ll go for Mom next. But then I turn my attention to Rogue and wonder if they were here for him.

“I think you should go inside. Lock the doors,” Rogue says. Pushing to his feet, he pulls me with him. My mind is a mess of confusion and fear.

Lifting my gaze to his, I ask, “Can I stay with you until my mom gets home?” Even as I voice my question, I inwardly cringe. He just asked me if I’m strong, and I said I was, and here I am wanting a babysitter because of a crazy person shooting at us. I shouldn’t have said I can handle anything life throws at me because I certainly can’t handle what just happened.

“Yeah. I’m going in to call my dad; he’s at the bar,” he tells me, dragging me along behind him. I follow on wobbly legs, and when I step inside their home, I notice how barren it is. There are still a few boxes in the open-plan living room and kitchen, but for furniture, it’s sparse. Only a couple of sofas and a flat-screen against the wall.

“Nice,” I say, gesturing to the frame on the wall with a signed poster of Metallica. My dad taught me all about rock, about the older bands he loved when he was young, and now, that’s all I have of him. The memories.

“Yeah, best band in the world,” Rogue says before pulling out a packet of smokes and tapping one out. He presses one to his lips, the white stick burning bright when he dances a flame across the tip. Dark eyes watch me through the haze of smoke as he breathes it out through his nose, making him seem like a mythical dragon, not a man.

“Those aren’t good for you.” I gesture toward the cherry glowing in the dimly lit house. But all he does is offer a one-shoulder shrug.

“Life is full of things that are bad for you,” he speaks as he makes his way into the kitchen