Chapter 10

Ariana

10

They're not done with showing me what they're truly about, as I quickly learn over the next few days. Every chance that they get, Sky, Kendric, and Raylan sneak me out of the clubhouse and take me out on their bikes to visit various points crucial Steel Knights activities.

We visit schools, playgrounds, hospitals, and free clinics—all places where they discreetly offer help. Most people have no idea of how much they actually do for Everton, and for some reason, they prefer to keep it that way.

"I don't understand why, though," I say as I get off Kendric's bike and take my helmet off. He gives me my ballcap to put on. We're outside a plain row of houses on the west side of the city, smack in the middle of a residential area with picket fences and small parks sprinkled at every road junction. "Why? If you're such knights in shining armor, why do you let the press depict you as these big bad wolves? It doesn't make sense."

I've been constantly thinking about it on the drive over. I can't find a reasonable motive.

Sky turns off his engine and carefully looks around. It's late evening, and the streetlights have come on. Most of the people are already indoors. I can see some of them through their windows, gathered around the dinner table or lounging in the living room in front of the TV. Raylan texts someone, and almost immediately, the front door of the house before us clicks open.

"Because if people know too much about what we're doing, the charity we're providing, they're going to start asking one too many questions, and there are certain entities in New Hampshire that cannot be given any reason to dig deeper," Sky says.

"For all the work we do with the community, we also do things that fall outside the legal scope," Kendric adds in a low tone, "which is what you're about to see."

"God, I hope you're not taking me into some drug den," I mutter.

"Does this look like Crackhead Central to you?" Kendric scoffs, and I instantly swallow the snappy comeback I already had lined up. I've had enough humble pie from these guys to last me a lifetime. "Come on."

I follow them up the steps and into the mysterious townhouse. The lights are on. It looks quiet and clean. They have plastic baggies with straps to wear over our boots. "Put a pair on," Kendric says before we go into the house.

"Okay." I do as I'm told.

I'm silently escorted into the living room first. I gasp at the sight before me. The entire space has been converted into an office with desks and high-performance computers. Everywhere I look, I see a plethora of screens, scrawny guys and girls clacking at the keyboards like there's no tomorrow. On a round table in the middle of the room, a radio frequency scanning device relays calls between the 911 dispatcher and responding units all over Everton.

I don't recognize most of the codes, but I do know that these people are listening in.

"What is this?" I ask.

"This is our tip line," Kendric declares while Sky and Raylan go around high-fiving their busy bees, discreetly letting them know that it's cool for me to be here—a reassurance that each of them clearly needed, given the foul looks they keep giving me.

"Tip line?" I reply, increasingly confused.

I'm shown into another room, then another. Each serves the same purpose. There are computers, radio scanners, phone lines that light up red, and teenage operators picking up, taking notes, and then calling the 911 central dispatch to pass the information forward. I'm stunned as I watch the process unfold, over and over, right in front of me.

"Ken, hey. I've got a meth deal going down in Haven," one of the operators says with a worried expression. "That's Wasp territory. What do I do?"

"Send it over to Clyde in Narcotics directly," Kendric promptly replies. "His number should be on the board."

Automated like a robot, the operator gets up and walks over to the eastern wall, which is dominated by a massive corkboard. Covering it are phone numbers and email addresses on pinned Post-it notes, along with printed photos and Excel spreadsheets with additional information. This is a veritable hub, I realize, and it's constantly running.

"He'll know how to handle it," Kendric adds while the operator inputs Clyde's number into his mobile phone and makes the call.

"Hi, Clyde. Yeah, I'm calling from the Steel Factory. There's a deal about to go down in Haven. Wasps are picking up a new transport from out of state. Yeah, it's a solid lead; he's given us accurate intel before."

The conversation fades away as I turn to face Kendric, briefly losing myself in the iridescent blues of his sharp eyes. "What's this? For real, what is this?" I ask him.

"First of all, it's illegal," he says. "If the cops or the Feds catch us scanning their frequencies like this, we'd be in orange jumpsuits before the weekend."

"That part I actually got. But what are you doing here?"

"This is the Steel Factory. That's its code name, sort of.The people of Everton know to call this number if they see or know of something suspicious going down or that's about to go down," he says. "It's a tip line and call center for people who know they can't trust the police force."

"Why can't they trust—"

"Because unlike you, most Everton folks have seen what the police do in these parts. They know who's really in charge and how far the secret interests of our elected officials go. We pick up the tips they send through, we guarantee the informants' anonymity, and we pass the information along either directly via the central 911 dispatch with as much detail as possible to make it harder for the local cops to brush off or to the cell numbers of police officers we know and trust."

"That way, we make sure that someone actually follows up on these things," Sky adds as he joins us in the kitchen, where Raylan is already pulling a few cold sodas out of the fridge for us.

"Remind me to restock this first thing tomorrow," Raylan tells Sky.

"I find it hard to believe that the police don't do their jobs," I mutter, crossing my arms for the umpteenth time. It's something I've found myself doing more and more, especially in the past few days. The more I learn about these people, the more conflicted I become. "Everton may not be the safest place in New Hampshire, but I'm pretty sure we're ranked in the top ten."

"More like at the bottom of the top fifty and sliding down each year that your father continues to serve as mayor," Kendric replies.

His resentment bothers me. I know I'm not supposed to be on the receiving end of it, but it still feels that way. "I am not my father," I tell him.

"But you are remarkably ignorant to everything that he's doing," he says.

"Okay, so he's not the best mayor," I sigh and roll my eyes. "But he's not alone in city hall, is he? What about the councilmen? The commissioner? The chief of police? The sheriff?"

"All of them are dirty in one form or another," Raylan says.

I can't help but chuckle. "You're starting to sound like you need a tinfoil hat."

"Do you remember the RICO operation in south Everton from last spring? " Kendric asks, giving me a sour look.

It takes a moment for me to dig through my mental archive, but yes, I remember hearing about it on the news. "Some big operation that got botched. Innocent people were killed. I think the dealers got away with the drugs and the money. DEA took the fall, right?"

"They had to. Someone had to take the fall," Kendric says. "The police commissioner was in on the whole thing, but the DEA can't touch him because of The Black Hand—"

"Ken, stop," Sky interjects, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's too soon."

"Too soon for what?" I ask, increasingly confused.

Raylan finishes his soda and tosses the empty bottle into one of the recycling boxes by the back door. "You're not ready to hear the whole truth, Randy," he says, using my made-up name. I like the way my name rolls off his tongue, but I accept that we're out of the clubhouse and, therefore, I must stick to this persona instead. "Let's just say there's an organization operating in the shadows, pulling the strings of various elected officials and allowing the worst kind of people to get away with doing some truly terrible things."

"Okay, apparently, tinfoil hats are a must," I scoff, stubborn as ever.

It prompts an endearing chuckle out of Sky. I think he's gotten used to my automatic and ultra-sassy skepticism by now. It actually makes him laugh, but he also seems to enjoy watching my face drop whenever I'm faced with the undeniable truth.

"You do know that there's always a seed of truth behind every conspiracy theory, right?" Sky asks me. "Someone paid someone, someone got away with something, the right bribe made it into the right pocket, and certain charges were dropped. It didn't matter who got hurt in the process as long as certain individuals were allowed to continue to be out in the streets, operating and pumping dirty money back into the Swiss bank accounts of folks who are frequently praised as pillars of the community. It's been the way of this world since long before we were born."

"And you're what, exactly? Secret vigilantes taking on the cabal?"

Kendric cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed and cutting into my soul. "You could say that. It's got a nice ring to it, though it's nowhere near as fancy as you make it sound."

"Yeah, I can see that," I reply, nodding back at the rooms and the constant sound of fingers pounding on keyboards. "They don't show this part in the movies."

"The nitty-gritty," Raylan says. "But it's true, Randy. There are dark forces at work all over Everton, hell, all over the state. And we're not strong enough or big enough to face them directly, not when they weaponized the media against us as soon as they figured out what we were doing."

I don't know why, but I am tempted to believe them. Everything I've seen so far tells me that the Steel Knights aren't up to anything dirty, despite what the press says. There aren't any drug deals going down, not that I've witnessed, anyway; no forms of trafficking or gun running. Sure, they operate outside the law with this place, but it's actually for the greater good. Where are those big, bad biker warlords that my dad is so determined to put in prison for the rest of their lives?

All I see here are concerned citizens making sure that certain crimes and underserved communities are given the appropriate attention from law enforcement. It further confuses and irritates me because my narrative is constantly crumbling right under my nose. I'm left blank and speechless with nobody to hate, even though I am still their prisoner.

"So, people in the city know to call the hotline?" I ask after a while.

Kendric nods. "Yeah. Word of mouth gets around. A lot of folks are afraid to speak up, but there are chatrooms, Reddit boards, and stuff like that. We're careful in how we advertise the tip line and always screen the calls before we ask for details."

"Have you had pranksters calling the tip line, as well?"

"Plenty. But once it became clear that we were doing something useful with the information that we were getting, the prank calls fizzled out," Kendric replies. "I guess the people understood that we're doing the right thing and that they should keep our lines free for real trouble."

I find myself enthralled as I look at Kendric in the overhead kitchen light. I'm unable to pull myself away from him, unable to peel my eyes off him. There's a constant buzzing in my chest whenever he's close. My heart is skipping beats, and my panties are getting wet. I can't stop thinking about that night with Sky. Raylan's kiss. It's all spinning out of control. I'm supposed to hate these men, not want them in every possible way.

Am I losing my mind?

The next morning, we're leave the clubhouse again.

By now, I've learned enough about their tactics to know when they're free to move about and why. I've spotted enough seemingly innocent cars parked outside and farther up the road to be able to identify them. They're cops in unmarked vehicles positioned close enough to keep an eye on the place. They can't do a 24/7 surveillance operation because they don't have sufficient manpower, and besides, the Steel Knights' lawyers file enough injunctions to keep the local PD extra busy in the courtroom on a daily basis.

Sky, Kendric, and Raylan did their homework before they abducted me, and I have to admit, I'm impressed. Truth be told, my urge to escape has been shrinking a little more each day. The more I'm with them, the more I wish to know. It's a hard pill to swallow, learning that I've been living with rose-colored glasses for most of my life.

"Didn't your father want you to go into politics with him?" Kendric asks me at one point.

We're backstage in the assembly hall of the local community center, where kids from the Everton kindergarten have put together a show for a fundraiser. They're doing Peter and the Wolf, and I can't take my eyes off these wonderful, beautiful little children with wide eyes and funky costumes as they waddle onto the stage to say their ill-remembered lines.

"He did, yeah," I mumble and take another sip of my iced tea.

Sky told the fundraiser organizers that we'd appreciate some discretion while watching the play. Given that Kendric paid for most of the costumes and the stage props, the organizers were more than happy to oblige. Backstage, we sit in the dark, wholly unseen and at peace, enjoying the show while Kendric admires the fruits of his labor.

"Why didn't you?" he asks me, briefly uninterested in the bassoon number. "He would've opened so many doors for you."

"I don't have the stomach for it," I reply bluntly. "Besides, I like designing stuff, jewelry mostly." Why aren't the words coming out of my mouth the way I want them to? I sound like I'm having a stroke. Then again, I blame Kendric. It's the effect of his proximity. It's getting stronger and harder to resist, and I'm effing drunk on his spicy cologne again. "Politics is not my thing."

"You could've been an investigative reporter, like your mom," Raylan says, leaning in.

The mere mention of her sends shivers down my spine. "Not my thing either."

"You like to hide your head in the sand, huh?" Kendric asks, his gaze once again glued to mine. "Pretend all is good in Wonderland while you look for a way out."

"I guess you've got me all figured out, don't you, Kendric?"

A smile tests his lips, and I realize he absolutely and perversely enjoys pushing my buttons, especially in circumstances where he knows I can't react the way I normally would. They're lucky I don't storm onto the stage and reveal myself. That would bring the cops over in the blink of an eye. I'd be free and safe again.

I could do it. I should do it.

But there's a part of me that desperately wants to know more about these men, to understand why they do what they do, why so many people in Everton love and support them, yet few speak out in their favor.

According to Spike, the Steel Knights have always had their boots on both sides of the law, but it was always with good reason. The ends justify the means, he'd say. But by that logic, anyone could get away with anything, right? It doesn't make it morally sound. Yet, having seen so much of their supposedly illicit activities, I'm genuinely starting to believe that they're telling the truth.

That there is more to the story.

What terrifies me the most is the part that my father plays in this. I'm here for a reason. He's the villain of their tale, and I'm worried they're justified in their actions, after all. And it makes me feel stupid and afraid. Stupid for having ignored the red flags over the years because he's my dad, and afraid because I still don't know where or how this will end.

What will happen to my father if the Steel Knights get what they want with my kidnapping? And where will it leave me?

I shift the focus back to Kendric for a while. "Why did you help the community center?"

Sky holds back a laugh when one of the kids trips on stage, and the others huddle around, just as clumsy in their clunky costumes, to help him up. In the meantime, the play director mouths fragments of the lines from the edge of the stage to help her cute little ducklings along while parents and supporting Everton folks sit and watch the hilarious debacle, proud to have donated to their fundraiser.

"They want to build a wing for a daycare center," Kendric whispers. "So, working moms can bring their kids here instead of struggling with paying babysitters, leaving them on their own or with shady, untrustworthy relatives."

"No, no. That's not what I'm asking," I correct. "Why are you helping them?"

Kendric takes a deep breath and leans forward. Only now do I catch a glimpse of the scars on his upper back, partially visible just above his shirt collar. A pang tugs at my stomach as I wonder how far down they reach. I know he was in the Marines, that he served with Raylan and Sky at one point, and that's how they met and became friends.

But why the scars?

I know they each had their share of violent encounters with death and that they survived some truly terrifying moments, but that's about it. Spike has also let slip that the three men share everything in their lives, including their women. It's been on my mind for a while now. My imagination likes to run loose, featuring me as a potential protagonist.

"I grew up in an abusive family," Kendric finally says. "My dad liked to smack me around a bit. My mom drank a lot. I spent most of my time at the community center in my hometown. So, I guess I know what it's like for the kids who come here for guidance, for safety, for counseling. I understand how important the center is, and the daycare would certainly change a lot of lives; they've already got staff for it. They just don't have the space, and they didn't qualify for government grants."

"That makes sense," I reply. "Single, working moms would know their children are safe while they're working their shifts."

"Exactly, and they are less likely to end up in abusive relationships simply because the guys they hook up with offer some sort of financial security," he says. "My mother would've fared better if she'd had that option when I was growing up."

"You think she would've left your dad?" I ask, somewhat incredulously.

Kendric's eyes catch mine before they drop to my lips. "She almost did. A couple of times. But the man had a steady job at the mill. She couldn't find any work that paid enough. She had no choice."

"Which is why you went straight into the military as soon as you turned eighteen, right?"

"You know me so well already," he smiles, then goes back to watching the play.

I can't take my eyes off him. Everything that Kendric says comes with an emotional charge that compels me to try and detangle it to better understand this man and what he's about. Beneath his harsh, stone-like exterior, Kendric has a soft side.

By the time the play is over, I'm fighting back tears.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for our talented little thespians," the director says to the audience.

The kids get plenty of cheers for their performance, their eyes filled with sparkling excitement and so much joy that it only makes my heart grow bigger. It's almost too much for my chest to hold, though. It's getting harder to breathe with all these emotions, all these realizations. Life as I knew it now feels like a lie, a big lie that I actively chose to live in.

It's almost midnight when they sneak me back into the clubhouse.

I'm exhausted, my mind worn out, and my soul in tatters as I try to reconcile my version of reality with everything that Sky, Raylan, and Kendric showed me. Tension gathers in my shoulders, and I can't seem to shake this ache from my chest upon reaching my room. Sky and Raylan have retired for the night, but I don't want Kendric to go.

He just stands in the doorway, much like Raylan before him, watching me as I take my seat by the window, physically tired but more emotionally drained. Tears sting my eyes. It seems he can't bring himself to leave, as if there are things between us left unspoken, things we want to offer one another but can't find the courage to say.

Outside, the night is dark and silent, and city lights glimmer in the distance. The stars hide behind thick clouds, a sign of heavy rain the next morning. The parking lot is almost empty, with the exception of a few bikes. Downstairs, the lights are off, and the clubhouse is closed until the morning. Yet, no matter where my thoughts go, they keep circling back to Kendric.

"Did he hurt you often?" I ask him just as he's about to leave.

It's all he needed to stay, judging by the subtle relief glimmering across his tanned face.

"Who?" Kendric asks.

"Your dad."

"Often enough to make the community center feel like home," he says.

I can no longer prevent the tears. I don't know how I managed to hold them in throughout the day because now they're flowing freely down my hot cheeks, accompanied by uncontrollable sobs and the occasional hiccup. I'm crying like a baby, finally letting it all out in waves of anguish and misery, not necessarily for myself but for all those who felt left behind. The orphans, the children at the play, the people struggling to survive in Everton while people like my father and his associates sleep soundly at night.

He must be worried sick about me, yet I'm having a hard time feeling any sympathy for him because the more I learn, the less I like him, and that comes with the kind of guilt I can't push down. I have to face it, which brings another warm and salty flood to my eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Kendric's voice cuts through the heavy silence.

"Because it's not fair," I manage. "Because it sucks. Kids shouldn't have to live the way some of them are living, too many of them. You were right, Kendric. I was so sheltered for most of my life, living in my gilded cage, thinking I could just turn a blind eye."

"Hey, hey," he says as he comes closer. "The troubles of this world are not yours to bear, Ariana."

"But my father—"

"He chose his path. He chose to shirk his responsibilities, to break his oath to the mayor's office. It's got nothing to do with you. Please, don't take on his sins."

I barely register the movement as he reaches me and takes me in his arms. As soon as I feel his steel-like strength envelop me, I let go of myself completely, crying even harder.

"I could've looked; I could've paid attention."

"You were just a kid yourself," Kendric says, his voice soft and warm, his lips pressed against my forehead. It feels so good, so strange, and so wonderful at the same time. "These are men of power," he continues, "men with a history and a network older than all of us put together. Baby, you have no idea of the depths we're dealing with."

I hold my breath for a moment, then find the courage to look up at him.

He peers deep into my eyes. It's insanely intense. And then our lips meet. I didn't expect such softness, such sweetness, coming from a man whose glare alone is enough to inspire dread. But I melt in his kiss, sizzling from the inside out, suddenly lost and eager to be consumed.

Nothing matters anymore as Kendric deepens the kiss, and our tongues wrestle for dominance. The hunger grows as his taste lights my senses on fire. Ginger ale, mint, a hint of coffee, and a whole lot of man commanding my mouth and conquering my body, bit by bit.

He runs his fingers through my hair, the red locks looking like ruby threads wrapped around his hands. It's an odd contrast with the faint scars he carries from ancient battles, and it only serves to turn me on even more. Everything about Kendric speaks of a warrior looking for a warm place to call home, and my core is crying out for him, wet and simmering.

"Ariana," he whispers against my lips before he trails wet kisses down the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and welcome his tongue with its playful explorations. He nibbles on my skin here and there, just enough to remind me that he's got quite the bite.

I welcome it all.

Time stands still as my clothes land on the floor. He's got me up against the wall, his massively muscular frame almost crushing me, yet I don't want him to stop. I feel his hard body molding to mine. We're like pieces of the same puzzle, fitting perfectly together.

He traces his hands along my curves, soft and tender, as he squeezes everything in his path. His fingers dig into my flesh, and I whimper in delight as he peels my bra off and carefully fondles my breasts.

"Call me baby again," I whisper.

He looks up, still kneading my breasts, as a soft smile curls across his delicious lips. "Baby."

"Baby," I say it, too. It just naturally seems to roll off the tongue.

My mind has completely shut down, and my body has taken over. I let my hands run over his chest, now bare and mine to gaze upon for as long as I wish. I can see the scars better now, and my fingers gingerly wander over each of them. Slowly, carefully, worriedly.

"It doesn't hurt," he says, his voice low and raspy.

"Maybe not now, but surely it did when it happened."

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?" I ask.

"An IED. It's in the past, I survived. It doesn't matter anymore," he says.

But it matters to me. It pains me to know that he suffered, and for what? Only to return home and be branded a criminal by people who have no idea what he, Sky, and Raylan went through. I'm close to crying again when he kisses me.

This time, he's hungry.

"No more crying, baby," he growls, and I moan in response as he unleashes his true nature.

He grabs me by the back of the neck with one hand, ruthlessly eager to dominate me.

I welcome it all as Kendric lowers his head and plants kisses across my chest before he takes hold of my breast. His lips close around my nipple, licking and teasing it until I feel liquid heat trickling down the inside of my thighs.

"Oh, Kendric," I manage, my knees buckling when he shifts his focus to my right nipple, eagerly tormenting it similarly. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans as he sucks and nips.

Circular movements of his tongue send tendrils of hot electricity down my spine as I hold onto him tightly. I feel his muscles twitching under my touch, his soft skin and scar tissue, the patch of curly blond hair covering his rippling pecs before it descends downward where a monstrous erection awaits.

Without even thinking, I wrap my hand around his gigantic cock. It's thick and throbbing with desire, a droplet of precum glistening on the tip. I can't help but lick my lips as Kendric sucks harder on my nipple until it stings.

"Ah!" I cry out, and it's all he needs to take things overboard.

"Don't ask me to stop, baby," Kendric says, decidedly pushing me toward the bed.

"I beg you, don't stop," I reply.

He gives me one last nudge, and I fall backward, landing atop the soft covers. I watch him, shyly touching myself, as he lets his jeans and boxers drop to the floor. He's gloriously naked and hard, his blue eyes turning as dark as night outside as he spreads my legs and proceeds to let his tongue slide between my wet folds.

I fall apart at the seams as Kendric eats me out.

He laps at my pussy, licking and tasting, nibbling and testing my resolve while I squeeze my breasts. Our eyes meet, and I know this turns him on even more. I can't help but smile as I watch him go down on me, as I pinch my own nipples, harder and harder, just the way he likes it, while he suckles my clit with equal passion, swiftly throwing me over the edge.

This orgasm has been waiting for a long time to be unleashed, and it shatters my very core. I come hard, and Kendric licks up every drop, kissing my swollen nub before getting back up and positioning himself at my entrance.

He spears me with his full length while I'm still pulsating, still moaning and shuddering as he stretches me beyond belief. "Fuck me hard, baby."

"Ariana."

"Make me feel so good."

"Fucking hell," Kendric snarls and starts pounding into me like there's no tomorrow.

"Oh, baby, yes!" I scream as he fucks me.

I'm raw and out of control, my hand instinctively sneaking down so I can work my clit into another frenzy. I desperately want to come while he's inside me, claiming and devouring me. Kendric bends down to kiss me. I lick his lower lip, and he thrusts himself deeper.

He feels my hand working its own kind of magic, the pressure once again gathering in my core.

"You're fucking incredible," Kendric gasps as his movements intensify.

I'm coming again and again; it feels like it's never going to stop. The ripples blow through me, the motion turning me inside out as Kendric goes deeper with every thrust. I feel his cock twitching, his warm essence pouring into me.

We bask in the afterglow for a little while, holding one another. He kisses me. Sweetly. Softly. Lazily. And then he bites into my lower lip, prompting my pussy to tingle with anticipation, liquid heat simmering once again. I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock.

We can't take our eyes off one another as he fucks me into oblivion, my pussy clenching as I explode all over him. We disappear into the sweet nothingness, fucking each other into madness and beyond, as every glorious inch of him fills me and bends me, breaking any semblance of defense left in me.

"I'm just getting started, baby," he says.

"Baby," I say the magic word again.

And he kisses me one last time before he turns me over.