“I want you to have it, Cleo. It brought you back—it belongs to you.”
I shook my head, trying to untangle myself from his embrace. “I can’t. It’s yours.”
“I’ve got something so much better.”
I knew what he would say, but I smiled and asked anyway, “And what’s that?”
His lips whispered over mine. “My Buttercup.”
I surrendered to his taste, kissing him back. I wanted to turn around and go back home. I wanted to ignore the outside world and the endless questions for a bit longer. I was selfish—selfish for a boy who’d turned into a man without me.
His tongue tangled with mine, our bodies pressing harder and harder against each other—seeking release from the rapidly building lust.
Breathing hard, I ended the kiss. Something he’d said before niggled me. “You didn’t have it on you every day.”
He frowned, his lips wet and swollen. “What?”
“That day I arrived. It was in your room.” My mind skipped back to that night—the battle, the blood, his wound that almost made him die. More fear filled my heart. “Art, if I hadn’t arrived that night… you would’ve died.”
His jaw clenched as he looked away and I saw what he didn’t want me to see. He’d been reckless with his life. Reckless with safety and his health because he had nothing to live for.
I crashed against his chest, nuzzling my head into his body and wrapping my arms tight around his waist. “Please tell me you weren’t that stupid—that broken—to want to die?”
“No.” His baritone echoed in my ear from where I pressed against him. “I must admit some days I was weak. Some days I didn’t want to get out of fucking bed at the thought of not having anyone to live for. But vengeance is a fine thing. It kept me alive when nothing else could. I wouldn’t have let myself die that night. I would’ve stayed alive because I fucking refuse to die before they get what’s coming to them.”
I looked up, yet more confusion layering my overstretched brain. “Who?”
He brushed a thumb over the apple of my cheek. “You’ll find out. I promise. And when you do, you’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“Is it anything to do with the uprising—that rebellion when I arrived?”
Arthur frowned, looking over his shoulder at the empty Club room. “That wasn’t related to the Club—not directly, anyway.”
“If it wasn’t related to Pure Corruption, what was it, then?” I couldn’t understand the dynamics. Arthur had built an MC that obeyed its own laws—unlike others.
“Four years ago when I took over, I wasn’t exactly a lot of members’ first choice.”
I moved closer, placing the Libra eraser back in his pocket. He frowned. “That’s—”
“It’s yours. And anyway, I don’t have any pockets.” Standing on my tiptoes to distract him from giving me something that meant the world to him, I said, “You’d always be my first choice.”
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes, absorbed with the past. “I came in, changed their patch, their oath—turned them from criminal to legit. I did everything he ever asked me to do.”
“He?”
His arm wrapped around my waist again. “Wallstreet. He was the reason—” Cutting himself off, he said, “He’s the only man I’ll ever fight for. The only man I’ll stay loyal to because of what he’s given me.” Waving his arm around the designer room, he added, “All of this—this belonged to Wallstreet. He built this Club, he expanded to Chapters all around the USA, but then he was put away and the guy he left in charge betrayed him.”
I didn’t know if I liked Wallstreet. He’d been fundamental in my sale, after all. He sounded like a bastard—not that I would say that.
Understanding swooped into my brain. “He asked you to rule in his stead?”
Arthur nodded. “Most of the crew hated how the new president ruined everything Wallstreet had built. They were happy to stand behind me, even though I came from a background that made it, let’s just say… difficult. But there were others still loyal to Magnet.”
“The man who betrayed Wallstreet?” I tried my hardest to understand and follow his story.
“Yes. Overnight the Corrupts became Pure Corruption and the Chapters had to obey the switch or be cut. It’s been a long fucking four years.” He smiled tiredly. “But for the most of it, the men are decent and just want peace and a law they can follow that will protect their assets and family.”
“And you gave them that.”
He gathered me close. “I gave them that.”
I snuggled closer, hungering for his body. All this talking and touching played havoc with my body and mind. I loved learning, peeling back the layers to find the truth, but I would’ve preferred to do it in bed, where I could distract him when topics got heavy. Changing the subject, I asked, “So they all have their own homes?”
Arthur nodded. “Some have a few. They’re fucking rich bastards. All of them—thanks to the skills Wallstreet taught me. Wealth is shared in the Club. I ask for obedience and trust, and in return they provide for their families, spend their time how they want, and have my back if I have tasks for them.”
A splash of temper filled me. “And trafficking women, was that a task?” I hadn’t meant to say it, but the crushing level of guilt I felt over the five women who’d been sold weighed on my mind. “Art, those women you sold. I can’t believe—I mean the boy I knew would never have done that. Is there some way to save them?”
His eyes darkened with anger. “Don’t, Cleo. You don’t know what the hell is going on, and I won’t let you judge me. Those trades were the first and the last, but there was a reason for them. Trust me.”
I hung my head. “I do trust you, but… you sold people. You sent them to a life of slavery. That’s not exactly easy to forget or condone.”
He shook his head. “I lied to you when I said they were chosen at random. They weren’t. They were marked for reasons that I won’t go into with you. Don’t feel sorry for them. Don’t think they didn’t deserve what happened.”
Fear skittered down my spine. “What do you mean?”
They were chosen? Does that mean I was, too?
The question came loaded with far too many repercussions to sort through.
Arthur grabbed my wrist, pulling me close. “I mean that there’s so much going on that I need to explain, but first I need to get this straightened out. Then we need to see Wallstreet.”
I didn’t want to go see him. What would I say? How would I hide the anger I felt?
“Prez?” Grasshopper appeared from a side door that presumably led into either an office or bedroom off the main sitting area.
“Hopper.” Arthur nodded. “Did you get everything I asked?”
“I tried, but I’m still confused. You need to start talking, dude.”
Arthur didn’t let me go, dragging me toward Grasshopper.
His blue eyes landed on mine; his mohawk bristled. “What’s she doing here? I thought you took her to the buyer?”
“Nice to see you, too,” I huffed.
Grasshopper cringed. “I didn’t mean it like that… not exactly.” A smile tugged his mouth as he looked me up and down. “I take it lies weren’t lies after all?” His gaze landed on Arthur, happiness glowing for his friend.
Art said, “She’s staying with me. I made a mistake. From now on you treat her with the same respect you treat me. She’s mine, wears my patch, and will eventually be my old lady.”
My heart smacked against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe.
It seemed neither could Grasshopper. He punched himself in the chest as he coughed. “Fuck, dude! You mean she’s her? Her her? Fuck!” He took a step toward me, energy bursting from him.
My mind skipped, overwhelmed with the declaration of being Art’s, and being elevated to power in just one order.
“But your name is Sarah. That wasn’t her name.” His attention turned to Arthur. “Am I missing something?”
“It seems I have two names—or two identities.” Two lives? Too many things to remember before they made sense.
Grasshopper paused, his mouth hanging open. “So… you are her? The infamous Kill has performed a miracle and brought the dead girl back to life?” He swiped a hand over his face. “Fuck, this isn’t making sense.”
Arthur chuckled, the respect he had for his second in charge obvious in his eyes. “Her name is Cleo, possibly Sarah, too, but we need to confirm that. I didn’t bring her back to life, but she’s back in my world and never leaving.”
Grasshopper’s gaze flew wide. “Holy fuck. This is insane.” He looked between us. “But… how? I don’t…”
I laughed.
His amazement was comical. Plus, I didn’t doubt he felt a little self-conscious for having stepped over the line and told me things about Arthur he probably shouldn’t have. “Nice to meet you, Jared. I’m Cleo.” I stuck my hand out.