The truck we were in drove up a graveled path. Beauty rubbed my arm. I didn’t know this woman for her to be this affectionate. But I did know of her . . .
“Tell me about you, Tanner,” I said as I ran my fingers over the tattoo of an eagle on his stomach. I traced the intricate feathers on the bird’s wings, the tips a vibrant shade of red that faded into a golden yellow as the many feathers led down to its body.
“What do you want to know?”
I looked up at Tanner and rested my chin on his chest. “Do you have friends?”
For a split second I saw a flash of what looked like pure pain in his blue eyes. Tanner’s muscles twitched beneath me. My stomach fell. He looked so sad. “I . . .” Tanner cleared his throat. “I have a best friend.” His voice was low and raspy, as though it hurt him to admit those words.
“In the Klan?”
Tanner picked up a piece of my hair and ran it through his fingers. I smiled to myself as he became lost in the motion. Tanner Ayers, beneath the muscles, the tattoos, and the menacing stare, was the most beautiful of men. “He’s not anymore.” My eyebrows rose in surprise. “He left.” Tanner inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Did time inside, then lost his faith in the cause. When he came out, he was done.”
“And your brotherhood was okay with it?”
“No,” he said. I tried to decipher the expression on his face. Wonder? Confusion? No. It was pain. “Just like they would never understand about you,” I said. It would be way worse, I imagined. He was the heir.
My heart started beating too fast for my breathing to remain steady. We never talked about what our lives were like outside my room. Tanner had been back to Mexico three times now. He would return once more before the Klan–cartel business was complete. And every visit, he came to me every night. Traveled with me each day through the secret tunnels that ran under the hacienda. And every time he left to go back to Texas, I counted the hours until he was back by my side.
He was never meant to mean anything to me. He was meant to be a man I loved to hate. A man who, for whatever reason, I felt pulled toward, but who was meant to be disposable.
I did not count on falling for the infamous White Prince of the Ku Klux Klan.
“His name is Tank. I met him when he joined the Klan several years back. We were near the same age, he was just a bit older, so we kind of fell into a friendship.” Tanner’s lip lifted at the side, and my heart melted on seeing that small whisper of a smile edge across his mouth. It was rare, like a blue moon, and just as enchanting. “He was my right-hand man. He was always with me. Stood beside me when I needed him . . .” The pain that had clouded his eyes before returned.
“And where is he now?”
Tanner’s small smile fell. “With another gang. A new brotherhood.”
I took Tanner’s hand. I was compelled to soothe him. I squeezed his hand and brought it to my lips. “But you still see him? Against your father’s wishes?”
Tanner nodded. “He has a woman now. Beauty.” His smile returned. “She’s a total ballbuster.” He paused, then, flicking an almost shy smile my way, said, “Like you. I think you’d like her. I could see you being friends.” I couldn’t help but smile back, my heart expanding, at just the thought of meeting some of Tanner’s friends as his . . . his. Tanner stared at me. I waited for him to speak. I had quickly learned that Tanner was the type of man who spoke only when he had something important to say. “When Tank left, I couldn’t understand how he could walk away.” Tanner glanced down at his hand in mine. Then his eyes tracked the tattoos on his arm. “When he left, I changed. I felt betrayed. Immersed myself in the Klan more than ever.”
“Tanner . . . what is it?” I asked after a minute of tense silence.
Tanner sighed. “But now I can.” My stomach flipped and my pulse lurched into a sprint. I didn’t know what to say. Tanner’s eyes dipped as if he was embarrassed