Page 12 of Property of Rattler

Trying to analyse what he’s thinking, I regard Rattler. He’s pacing, only two steps in one direction until he’s forced toreturn. His face is aquiline, his features not unappealing, though his hair—it looks like he’s growing a short style out and definitely in need of some styling. He’s not the tallest of the Kings I’ve seen, and not as heavily built as Freak. He’s slim but fit. The way his tee clings to his body shows he’s sporting a six-pack.

Would I be attracted to him if I’d met him in the street with no idea of his character? Well, the answer has to be yes. But I’ve seen how he acts around Royals. He’s lazy, does what he has to but nothing more. Even his brothers seem to lose patience with him fast. As a partner, he’d be a disaster. But in the bind I’m in? He could be the answer to all my prayers.

“Rattler,” I start hesitantly, hardly believing the words I’m about to utter. “Would you marry me? I’d give you half of my inheritance. It would only be until the Christmas after next, eighteen months until I turn twenty-one.” If he killed me, Malachi would only give him a fraction of that.

His pacing stops. He stares at the wall in front of him. When he finally speaks, it’s in such a low tone that I struggle to hear the words. “If I were half the asshole the world believes I am, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.” Then he swings around to face me, his lips thin. “My loyalty is to my club, not to some bitch who’s in trouble.” His eyes grow dark. “Your offer is tempting, but…” he waves his hand in my direction. “I don’t even like you, woman. And I’ve never wanted to be tied down. You’re far too young for me. I’m a man. I don’t want a little girl.”

“It needn’t be real,” I rush to reassure him, suddenly convinced this could be the solution. “It would only have to be for two years, and only on paper. You’re only, what, ten years older?”

“Eight,” he corrects. He suddenly approaches, and as he looms over me, a look of disgust appears on his face. “You think I can be swayed by money? I had nothing before I joined the Kings. This life they’ve given to me? Fuckin’ means everything.”He pauses to run a hand through his hair, which does nothing to help his half-grown-out style. All he succeeds in doing is making it stand up in spikes. “If that’s such an easy solution, just go and ask a man off the street. Or, what about Joe?”

“Joe’s married,” I remind him.

As if he’s scored a point, he sneers. “So, you’ve already asked him. How many others turned you down before you got around to asking me?”

I don’t get riled easily. I’m more of a woman who likes to sit back and think before she says anything. His words, though, have me prodding him in his chest with my finger and blurting out, “No, I didn’t ask Joe, or anyone else. And now I’m regretting telling you fucking anything.” This time it’s me raking my hands through my curls, almost ready to pull out my hair in frustration. I move to turn away, half forgetting there’s nowhere to go in this goddamned closet we’re trapped in. Swinging back around, I hiss at him, “Forget I ever told you anything.”

Lazily, he leans back against the shelving and shrugs. “Not sure I can do that.” He taps his head. “One thing going for me is that I’ve got a good memory.”

I feel exposed. I should have kept my mouth shut. I have no idea why, out of all people, I’d opened up to him. Even Satin doesn’t know the size of the inheritance I’ll get if I live for the next eighteen months.

Bile rises in my throat as I realise that I’ve given this biker, who I don’t even like, a hold over me. My voice isn’t quite steady as I ask, “Are you going to sell me out to my brother?”

His eyes narrow. He looms forward and smashes his hand into the wall behind me. “You think I’d sell you out for money? Woman, you offered me half your inheritance, which I turned down. I’m not fucking stupid enough to even dream I’d get more from this Malachi.” He draws in a breath, then a lopsided grintakes over his face, “But it’s tempting. Fuck, you annoy me. Would at least get you out of my hair.”

His words do nothing to comfort me. I watch as he sighs, yawns, then takes a seat on the ground, propping his body against the shelving behind. When he seems to have gotten himself comfortable, he closes his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some fuckin’ sleep. It’s going to be hours until anyone comes to let us out.” He breathes in deeply. “Sit the fuck down, Ames.”

Not so much because he told me to, but because I’m tired, I, too, slide to the floor. Now he mentions it, I am exhausted. I know, though, that my brain won’t switch off and let me sleep. Questions start coming from all sides of my brain.

Will Malachi be waiting once we do get out?

Will he have found Satin? It wouldn’t be unlike him to take her as collateral to force me to sacrifice myself. Which, as he knows, I would do. I wouldn’t be able to bear anyone else being hurt, not if I could prevent it.

Will Rattler tell everyone in his club about my inheritance? The staff at Royals? The least they’d do is treat me differently, the worst, sell me out to my brother.

And how will I get out of town without Malachi finding me first? God knows what information he has, and what drove him to come to Gravity looking for me. If his info is sound, he’ll hang around town until he’s found me. He won’t give up.

“Woman, fuckin’ relax, and stop fidgeting. You’re keeping me awake.”

I try, I really try. But with all the unanswered questions vying for top place in my mind, my muscles stay tight, and my leg bounces automatically. The hopelessness of my situation starts to creep up on me. I might not like working at Royals, but at leasthere I’d felt safe. Now I’ve got to leave and start all over again. I can’t control the exasperated sob that leaves me.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rattler growls. “Look, I’ll speak to the club, see if we can provide protection for you, maybe even find out whether another chapter of the Kings would give you a place to stay. We can certainly set you up with a new ID.” He opens his eyes, focusing them on me. “I take it your name’s really Ames? And you not having any fake papers is why you couldn’t present us with your documents?”

My shoulders rise, then drop. “I wanted to get a new identity, but I didn’t have any money.”

He gives a slow nod. “Figures. Well, we can sort that and get you far away, somewhere you can hide for the next eighteen months and hope some fucker is stupid enough to put a ring on your finger before then.”

I glare at him, then realise what I haven’t asked. “Why would your club help me?”

He’s quick to answer. “You might not have the money now, but you will. I suspect the club would be prepared to keep you safe based on an IOU.” Again, his eyes narrow. “And don’t think of skipping out on us. You might fear Malachi, but you’ve no idea what will happen to you if you fuck with the Kings.”

I’d be happy to sign away anything, all my inheritance if it came to that. My staying alive is worth more than any mythical money, which I’ve done well enough without up to now. And that’s an idea. “I’d give you the whole ten million if you take Malachi out of the picture permanently.”

His eyes open comically wide. “What the hell kind of club do you think the Kings are?”