Piston by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Eight

_{This is going to be interesting.}

Piston

Holland startles and whirls around to face me, her hand on her chest and her eyes wide.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing back here?”

Her mouth opens and closes several times before any words come out.

“I have to pee.”

I stride toward her and wrap my fingers around her upper arm. She struggles against my hold. She’s surprisingly strong but not strong enough. I shove her toward the bathroom door to her left.

“Bathroom’s right there, sweet cheeks.”

She yanks away from me and this time, I let her go. She stomps into the bathroom and slams the door behind her. I hear the lock engage and I chuckle. If she thinks that will keep me out, she’s seriously mistaken.

I lean back against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. As soon as I spotted Holland, I watched her, waited to make my move. It was clear that she didn’t see me, and I was curious to see how far she’d take this charade.

Then I saw her talking to Pony.

I don’t know what the hell happened to me, but I saw red. I don’t even know Holland and the sight of her talking to another guy sent me into a rage. And one I couldn’t do a damn thing about, which infuriated me even more.

The click of the lock disengaging pulls my focus and I roll my head to stare at the door. It slowly opens and Holland steps out, her shoulders straight and defiance in her expression.

“Thought you had to pee.”

“I did,” she insists after locking eyes with me.

“Usually when someone takes a piss, they flush the toilet.” I allow my smirk to grow.

Holland throws her hands in the air and huffs out a breath. “Fine. I didn’t have to use the bathroom. You caught me. Now,” she takes a step to move around me. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I snake an arm out to stop her from walking away. She looks at where we’re touching and then lifts her gaze to my face. The pulse point in her throat jumps and her pupils dilate.

“What are you doing?” she asks, all her bravado gone.

That’s a damn good question. What the fuck am I doing?

I loosen my grip and trail my fingertips up her arm, over her throat, and stop when my palm cups her cheek. I don’t really know how to answer her, so I go with a bit of honesty.

“Same thing you are.” I drop my arm. “Trying to figure you the fuck out.”

Holland swallows and my fingers itch to touch the column of her throat again.

“There’s nothing to figure out.” She pushes those damn glasses up her nose. “I’m just a girl trying to do her job.”

“And I’m that job.”

“No, not you specifically.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I lean in close to her face. “You mess with my club, you mess with me.”

She huffs out a breath. “I’m not messing with anybody. Getting a story isn’t a crime.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But snooping around someone else’s property, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong… that’s wrong.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if you’d talk to me instead of threaten me.”

Holland seems to have a comeback for every single thing I say. It’s equal parts maddening and fascinating. If she thinks I’ve been threatening during our interactions up until this point, she has no clue what a real threat is. Maybe it’s time to give her what she wants.

“Come with me.”

I step around her and punch in the code to open the steel door that will lead us to the basement. When the thick barrier disappears into the wall like a high-tech pocket door, I hear her sharp intake of breath.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to the story, sweet cheeks.”

I wink at her before taking the steps two at a time. I don’t bother to see if she’s following. She’s not. But she will. She won’t be able to resist.

I stand in front of another steel door. Holland doesn’t keep me waiting long and when she appears at the bottom of the steps, her face reminds me of a child on Christmas morning. She’s so excited about what she’s about to unwrap but also a little worried that it might be a pair of socks.

She looks at the monitors on the wall, but they’re blank. She turns in a circle almost as if searching for any logical reason I’d bring her down here. When she faces me again, all tempered excitement is gone and in its place is fear. For the first time since meeting her, she’s exhibiting the one emotion I’ve needed from her. And I don’t like it.

Holland wraps her arms around herself. “Why are you doing this?”

Rather than answer her question, I enter the digits that will open this door. When it swings open, I step through into the Nightmare Room. It’s cold in here, but it doesn’t faze me. I hear Holland's feet on the concrete as she enters behind me.

Huh? She’s not as scared as I thought.

The room is made of cinder block walls and concrete floors. There are blood stains that swirl around on the concrete that no amount of cleaning will fix. The silence that surrounds me is deafening. I’m used to this room eliciting screams and pleas for life from the occupants. This is far different.

“Is this what you wanted?” I ask without turning around to face her. “Does this equal front page news?”

When she doesn’t answer, I walk to the furthest wall and turn around to lean back against it. I pull my cell phone from my pocket and find the app that controls the room. The door slams shut behind her and she jumps.

Holland’s gaze is darting around the room and the longer she looks, the bigger my grin becomes.

“Not exactly what you had in mind when you decided to crash the party, is it?” I taunt her.

“Killing me would still be front page news.”

“Is that what you think? That we’re a bunch of murderers?”

All her fear seems to dissipate under the weight of her sparked temper.

“What the hell else am I supposed to think?!” she shouts. “You refuse to talk to me, you threaten my life, multiple times I might add, and then you bring me down here.” She spreads her arms wide. “A bloody fortress that’s designed to intimidate and torture.”

It isn’t often that I’m surprised, but if her outburst were a physical blow, she’d have knocked me on my ass.

I take a step toward her, and she retreats two steps, her distrust and apprehension evident in her stance and her action.

“The violence that takes place in this room is reserved for those who betray the Soulless Kings.” I arch a brow. “Have you betrayed the Soulless Kings?”

Holland narrows her eyes at me. “No.”

“I noticed you left our club out of the article that was printed today.”

“You read it?” she asks as she takes a step forward, almost as if she has no control over her body.

I nod. “Why did you choose to focus on Black Bird?”

Holland shrugs. “Because that was the only factual story I could write. Despite what you think, I don’t write fiction. If I can’t get information directly from the source of the story or if I can’t corroborate the info I’m given, I don’t send it to print.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Her face scrunches up and it makes her too damn cute.

“What?” I ask. “I’m not the stupid imbecile you thought I’d be based on what I wear, how I live, and what I drive?”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” I bark. “Don’t even fucking pretend that you thought anything different.”

Holland’s shoulders slump and the movement is so slight I almost miss it. She fidgets with her hands and then straightens and squares her shoulders.

“Fine, I’ll admit that I was expecting something… different.” She takes another tentative step forward. “Prove me wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, puffing her cheeks up as she does. “I have a proposition for you.”

Everything in me tingles at her words. Unfortunately, I’m fairly certain that her proposition has nothing to do with the carnal pleasures her statement invokes.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a job to do.” She holds her hand up when I start to interrupt and I slam my mouth shut. “But I also appreciate the fact that you and your club have things that they’d rather keep hidden from the general public… and the law.”

“Get to the point.”

“What if I promise to let you see everything I write before I send it to print? You can either approve of it or request changes. Either way, I’ll follow your lead on what gets through.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m not quite clear on how this helps you. Or how it helps us.”

“I’m still getting the story that has been deemed impossible to get.” She shrugs. “The Soulless Kings don’t exactly have the best reputation. Whether I get the gory details or I learn that everyone else has it all wrong… it doesn’t matter. I’m doing the impossible. And that will solidify my career here, in the States.”

“In the States?”

Holland’s face falls but she quickly recovers. “We all have a story, Piston. And mine isn’t the one on the table.”

The way her mouth forms my name, the way it rolls off her tongue… I could get used to that.

“If I’m going to agree to this, I’ve got conditions of my own.”

“Of course.”

“I have to run your idea by the club, take it to a vote.” Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Nothing happens in the club that we don’t agree on.” I wink at her. “Don’t worry sweet cheeks. Stick with me long enough and you’ll learn all the ins and outs.”

“Fine.” Her cheeks pinken. “You said conditions. That’s only one.”

“Observant,” I say and close the distance between us so I can lean down and almost touch her nose with my own. “This fact-finding mission goes both ways. You learn about the club and I learn about you.”

She balks at that. “Why?”

I straighten. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer,” she argues.

I roll my eyes at her. “It is an answer. It’s just not the one you want.”

Holland seems to mull over my conditions and I silently pray she doesn’t push for a real answer because I don’t have one. At least not one I’m willing to share. How the hell would it sound if I told her the truth? If I told her that I want to get to know her because she’s the first woman to ever intrigue me beyond what she can provide in the sack?

“Is that it?” she asks.

I contemplate her question. If I’m going to take this to a vote, I need to be able to explain to my brothers how this deal will be good for the Soulless Kings.

“We’ve talked about how this will benefit you but what about us? What do we get from it?”

“You mean other than me writing a story that could potentially give the Soulless Kings a more positive standing in the community?”

“We don’t exactly give a shit about positive press. Besides, you already said you focus on facts. Not all of the facts are going to help our reputation.”

“Then what do you care about? What do you want out of this?”

For me? To figure you out. For the club? No fucking clue.

“I don’t know but I’ll come up with something.”

“How the hell am I supposed to agree to that when I don’t even know what exactly I’m agreeing to?” she counters.

I shrug. “That’s not my problem. Either you agree or you leave. Up to you.”

Holland huffs out a breath. “Fine, I’ll agree to your terms.”

My heart skips a beat. This is going to be interesting.

“Good.”

I walk to the door and press the code into the panel to open it. Before I exit, an idea pops into my head and I glance over my shoulder.

“Meet me at Infinite Motors tomorrow evening at six.”