Free Knight by Lana Grayson

hub. It supported a rough industry and rougher men.
    He was right. The truck parked on the corner, directly in front of my penthouse.
    Luke hovered behind me. He dropped his jacket over the couch like I’d invited him inside. He wore only a cut and pristine white t-shirt underneath. The material strained over his broad chest and shoulders, and the ink staining his arms darkened against the cotton. Most of his idiot crew decorated themselves with the usual tribal bands. Luke had those too—over his chest. I remembered that. But on his arms, he needed only one design—a weapon most members of the MC mistook as a spear.
    It wasn’t something so simple. Luke inked a lance onto his arm—the proper weapon for a man who thought of the world in medieval terms. Good and evil, tyranny and oppression. Knight even believed in chivalry—always tipped my girls when his men forgot to show their appreciation for a lap dance.
    He also searched for any damsels who needed to be rescued.
    That included me.
    Too bad he didn’t find himself a princess. He broke inside the dragon’s lair.
    “You should stay at Pixie tonight.” Luke drew the curtains. “Somewhere safer.”
    “Why?”
    His weren’t baby-blues—nothing young existed in those eyes. They shone sharp, vibrant, and utterly charming. He was the only man besides Thorne who ever held my gaze, but he was the only one I wished wouldn’t.
    “If Temple MC decides to crash your apartment, it’ll be too easy for them to pass the sleeping security guard and pick your damn lock.”
    “That’s not Temple MC in the van.”
    Luke frowned. He lost the dimples, but he gained the little crease in his chin. “How do you know?”
    “Because Temple MC would have killed me instead of conducting surveillance.”
    It sickened me how easily I talked about such things, especially without a drink in my hand. I remedied that with a shot of whiskey from a dusty bottle in the corner. I preferred tea once I settled at home, but tonight we brewed trouble instead of Earl Grey.
    Luke might have wanted a drink. I wished I had offered him salt water. He said nothing and wove a hand through golden hair that had no business falling in such perfect waves against his collar.
    “So who’s in the truck?” he asked.
    “Probably ATF.”
    Luke moved faster with the threat of the Feds than Temple. He ducked from the window and claimed a chair, despite not having an invitation to join me at the kitchen island.
    “What the fuck is ATF doing outside your apartment?”
    It was a penthouse, but I’d be lucky if the MCs could tell the difference between crown molding and Crown Royal.
    “I prefer them here rather than at Sorceress.”
    “Son of a bitch.” Luke strafed the island, stretching his arms against the granite. He flexed. “They harassing you?”
    “No more than you are.”
    “Answer the question.”
    “Get out of my house.”
    “Lyn, for Christ’s sake. What the hell is ATF doing at Sorceress?”
    “Take a guess.”
    I pushed him away before he sat down. His ass belonged on bar stools, not in a breakfast nook.
    Not in my home.
    Not so close to me.
    He let me edge him out of the kitchen, but his boots dug in before I could push him out of the penthouse.
    “Use your head, Luke,” I said. “World War Three is on the verge of starting in my club. I’ve got two different MCs trying to kill each other in my parking lots. You just got me kidnapped by a fucking cartel, and ATF is twirling around on my poles.”
    His voice deepened. I used to love that sound, loved the twist in my tummy and panties. Now it just made me weak to him and for him and because of him. I refused to let it affect me. Or, at least, I tried.
    I had to try.
    “Tell me what happened,” he said.
    “I have it under control.”
    “I want to help you.”
    “I don’t need any help.”
    “Damn it, Lyn. I’m just trying to protect you!”
    “Oh, screw you, Knight .”
    He held his arms out as I crossed beyond him. I meant to