The Arachnid Conclave: A Suspense Romance Novel (MC Saga Book 2)

by Brogan Riley

  He walks off, his elegant black shoes thumping against the green floor. A thought wavers in my head. His clothes and shoes are spotless but they are not ridiculously expensive. He seems to be a simple guy. Surely, he’s nice to his friends and relatives. Yes, he’s a nice guy.

  No, he isn’t. He’s an enemy that I despise.

  Belle tilts her head. “How old are you?” She smoothes a hand over her dyed blonde hair.

  “Eighteen.”

  She nods. Her pale blue eyes flicker. “Have you ever been with a man?”

  Heat pours over my cheeks. Why does she need to know? Why is she even talking to me? We’re roommates not best friends. I want to sleep this horrible experience off.

  “No,” I squeak.

  I’m President’s daughter. My dad is an outlaw. A shadow. Our club doesn’t exist officially. We live in a compound encircled by a high concrete wall, under the local Mafioso’s protection.

  We live on the wrong side of the law, but I’m a good girl. I got top grades in high school and I’m in college now. Sort of. I’m doing an online course—diets and fitness.

  My dad would kill every man if they as much as looked at me. I don’t want any corpses on me so I behave myself. I act like a nun. I’m still a virgin. I don’t know the taste of a man’s kiss on my lips.

  I sometimes steal a thing or two. No big deal. I need to entertain myself, right?

  My mom is an angel. She must be. She looks like a dark-haired angel; her face glows like white marble each time the sun’s rays touch her, and she loves like one. The necklace was supposed to be her birthday present.

  Belle shakes her head. “That’s a shame, princess.”

  “Why?”

  “You’d shake that little ass of yours and the agent would let you out.”

  “What?”

  “He can’t tear his eyes off you.”

  My heart jumps up into my throat and my tummy fills with heat. “He’s a federal agent. Why would he even look at me?”

  “He’s a man, sweetie.”

  No, that can’t be. He behaved in a very professional manner when he was interrogating me.

  “I’m old,” Belle says. “I’ve seen a lot in life. I’m telling you, the agent wants to drive his dick into your little cunt.”

  My core pulses as my stomach flutters.

  No—

  I’m nobody.

  I’m a piece of trash to him.

  I have no make-up on. My jeans are dirty. My hair is a mess.

  I hate him and he hates me. “He’s hot.” It just slips out of my mouth.

  He’s rough, unyielding, his hard muscles so perfectly enveloped by the elegance of his suit and white shirt.

  Belle erupts into laughter. “He is a tasty cookie.” She pats her own thighs. “I saw that Brooks bitch eating him with her eyes.”

  My heart sinks. Surely, women must throw themselves at Dante.

  He is very handsome.

  He’s off limits to me.

  He’s a cop, and I’m a criminal. I can’t allow myself to think about him. He’s no man to me.

  Except that he’s a gorgeous man.

  No, he’s forbidden.

  Dante

  I walk into her temporary office and take a seat at the grey table. My boss, Kathryn O’Mavry, narrows her green eyes. She’s a slim, tall woman in her forties. I’d say she’s still a very attractive woman, but there’s something off about her.

  Brooks flashes me a pitying smile. “You’re gonna adopt her?”

  “She’s a suspect,” I say coldly to cut her and it seems to be working because she drops her head.

  Brooks and I have never fucked. She wants us to fuck but I want to be a professional.

  McAdra chuckles, patting his round belly. He’s forty-seven. He’s a devoted husband and a loving dad of four. He never goes to have a drink at a bar.

  Kathryn clears her throat, smoothing a hand over the low bun made of her black hair. “George? Shall we continue?”

  McAdra raises his hand and points a finger to the red pin stuck in the map that hangs on the wall. “A cell of the Arachnid Conclave in France. We’ve got strong evidence they’re laundering money. It’s enough to arrest them.”

  “I need more,” Kathryn says. “Otherwise their lawyers will convince the judge to release them on bail and they’ll vanish.” She nods several times. “And I want them to be locked up for life or longer.”

  I want them all dead. For eternity or longer.

  McAdra nods before he returns to his seat.

  “Monica?” Kathryn thrusts her chin out.

  Agent Brooks clears her throat. “Another suicide. It’s like a code ingrained in their brains. We can’t break it. They just don’t want to cooperate.”

  “Nonsense, just try harder,” Kathryn snaps. “They’re humans not cyborgs. They can be persuaded.”

  Monica’s face tinges with a dark red. “Yes, boss.”

  A harsh silence layers us for an instant. Monica is a good cop but she needs to learn to be more decisive and tougher.

  “Alright, go home, people.” Kathryn glances over at me. “I need a word with you.”

  I bow my head as Brooks and McAdra leave the office.

  Kathryn puts her hands on the table as she rises to her feet, her thin lips held tightly together. She huffs out. “I’m going to be very honest because there’s no time for any chit-chat.” Her cold eyes fix onto mine. “Find Liberator. Tell him we’ll lift all the charges against him and his club if he decides to work with us.” She drops back into the chair and opens the folder. “You have the green light from me.” She smoothes a hand down the front of her pale green shirt. “Whatever it takes, agent Lamon.”

  We’re desperate. The Arachnid Conclave has killed twenty people this month and the cult only grows in strength. Liberator knows who they are and where the highest priests reside. We know this because we’ve managed to eavesdrop on two of his phone calls.

  The arachnids leave their mark on the bodies of their victims. It’s always a black four-legged spider tattoo. The corpses are difficult to identify, wearing the signs of torture, rape and, the cult’s other rituals. Spider cocoons stuck in body caverns for example. Some say they act like organised serial killers.

  “I’ll find him, boss,” I say.

  “I know.” She flashes me the ghost of a smile.

  Rising to my feet, I bow my head at O’Mavry and exit her office. I need a glass of beer.

  I work ten hours a day, seven days a week. I’ve been investigating the cult for seven years. They’ve been active for about thirty-five years.

  How many people have been killed so far? That’s a question nobody can answer.

  I leave the police station accommodated in a four-story modern building and walk over to my car. It’s a black two door Chevrolet Bel Air. Yeah, I have a weakness for old stylish cars. I get into it and start the engine. I allow myself to enjoy the smell of leather and the comfort of my seat for a few minutes. Then I drive toward the bar that’s perched on the hill on the outskirts of the city fifteen miles away from this town.

  The local sheriff has been hosting us for three months. We came to this town after the bodies had started to emerge from the swamp that lies thirty miles away from here. There are seven of us in total—Brooks, McAdra, O’Mavry, me, Brian Tresia, my former boss, and two young agents that graduated merely a year ago—Felicity Hewson and Scott Morris. They’re investing a case of kidnapping forty miles away from here. Brian’s working from his one bedroom apartment. He’s not a fan of O’Mavry. I’m not a fan of her being my boss but she’s the head honcho so I don’t comment. In the future, I’m gonna ask the director of the FBI to move me back under Brian’s command.

  Liberator always checks out the crime scenes and that’s always at the same time as we do. We suspect that he has either a very talented hacker or a rat in the FBI.

  It takes me about half an hour to reach my destination. I park between an Audi and a Volkswagen and enter the bar.
It’s full, so I elbow my way through the tangle of bodies and stand at the gothic bar top. The smell of human sweat and desire circles me. Sensual music starts playing and two couples sway on the dance floor. The bartender takes my order, shooting me a flirty smile. I had her bent over the hood of my car two weeks ago. She was wet and tight and eager to allow me to fuck her mouth fast and hard and fuck her cunt even harder. It was fun but tonight she’s not tempting to me.

  “Hey,” a caramel voice says into my right ear as a hot breath brushes against my neck. The smell of oriental perfume circles me. “Hey, handsome.”

  I turn my head as my eyes meet a woman’s glance. She looks thirty. A very elegant thirty—big brown eyes, dark hair styled in a high bun, a red dress showing off her curves.

  The bartender puts a glass of beer in front of me.

  “Buy me a drink,” the woman says, her delicate aristocratic hand patting my shoulder.

  A bored housewife. Her husband is rich as fuck but works too much and she feels lonely.

  Her finger touches the angle of my jaw, and she trails a line down my neck.

  Why the fuck not? This is an invitation. If I accept it, we’ll end up in the backseat of her car in an hour or two. I need an elegant easy woman to spread her legs for me tonight. Yep, I’m gonna fuck and get drunk.

  I need to shake off the tension that’s been building inside of me. I’ve been edgy since I officially introduced myself to that little outlaw.

  A woman my age will do me good.

  Something pricks my heart.

  I left that kid in the containment cell and in the company of an old drunken whore. She’ll be scared.

  Fuck me. Why do I even care? What is happening to me?

  I shake my head. “I’m not looking for company tonight.”

  “Really?” Her finger trails a seductive line up my arm.

  “I’m busy, sweetheart.”

  She takes her hand off as she wrinkles her forehead. Her nostrils flare. “Maybe next time?”

  “Yeah, maybe next time.” I take a sip of my beer.

  The woman purses her lips and turns her face away.

  My phone rings. I plunge my hand into the pocket of my trousers and take it out. It’s Cindy.

  Cindy the warden.

  I answer the call.

  “I want to cooperate,” a squeaky voice says. A few sharp gasps follow. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

  I cover my other ear with my hand so the noise doesn’t distract me. “You sure, Chantal?” Amusement seeps into my voice at her sweet desperation.

  She starts sobbing and it does something to me. I want to soothe her, make her feel safe, and fuck me, do I want to touch her.

  I feel fucking anxious.

  I never feel anxious.

  “I’ll be back to you in half an hour,” I say as gently as I can.

  “Please, get me out of here.” Chantal gulps and chokes.

  Her voice slices through my heart. “Don’t panic, okay? Just sit down and wait for me.”

  “Okay. But please, hurry.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  I slap a $20 note onto the bar top and elbow my way out of the bar. I jump into the driver’s seat and speed toward the police station.

  I dodge a tank truck; I almost run an old lady over, I almost crash into a cab. My heart flutters as I park my car next to Cindy’s and jump out. I cross the parking lot and go through the double glass door. My heart hammers in my chest as though it’s the fucking end of the world. I climb the stairs, stride along the corridor, and bounce off Cindy. Her arms flap like a bird’s wings.

  “Jeez, Dante. Is there a fire or something?”

  “Let her out.” I clear my throat, threading my fingers through my hair.

  Cindy nods though her brown eyes are as wide as wells. She walks into the room that accommodates the control panel and presses a button.

  The barred door rasps, puffs, and slides away. The little shit walks out, her eyes red from crying. She looks up at me, her chin quivering.

  Fuck me. I feel like the lowest of the low.

  Her lips part and she flings herself to me. Just like that. I didn’t expect it at all. Her chest rubs up mine. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth.

  “Everything’s fine, kid,” I rasp as I almost brace her with my arms.

  I want to hold her tight against my chest. I want it so badly.

  “Can we talk?” Chantal says in a sweet voice.

  Fuck me. She can be very sweet. Very obedient.

  She’s irresistible.

  Her arms wrap around me and she rests her cheek against my chest.

  My dick grows hard. My arms wrap around her instinctively.

  Chantal clings to me like her life depends on it as Belle’s laughter wafts through the air. Cindy shoots me an amused glance.

  Whatever it takes. Said O’Mavry.

  The chick rubs her tummy up my hard on, but her face radiates such innocence I feel like I’m embracing an angel.

  She is an angel.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I say as I push her gently away. “There’s a nice café—“

  “Sure.” Her eyes lock onto mine—the depths of stormy seduction, dangerous and pristine with a few traitorous navy flecks.

  I know she’s trying to make a fool of me. I’ve been a federal agent for twelve years. It’s an average whore’s trick.

  I don’t give a fuck.

  I want to have that lush body of hers plastered to mine forever.

  I just need to be vigilant. She’ll try to vanish if I as much as blink.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  Chantal bobs her head at me, her lips parted, her big eyes glassy.

  My dick wants to fuck that sweet mouth of hers. My dick wants to slam on her throat.

  Hell yeah, I’d drive my whole length into her mouth. I’d gag her and cause tears to flow from her innocent eyes. She’d take me eagerly and swallow every drop of my cum.

  Chapter 3

  Chantal

  I walk down the stairs as his intimidating presence follows me like an executioner. His smell circles me like an exhalation of the wild forest on a summer night with hints of light sweat.

  He smells like a real man. He smells like a warrior.

  If I were older I’d ask him to take me out on a date.

  What am I thinking about?

  I should escape him at the earliest opportunity.

  “Are you hungry, kid?”

  God, his voice is so beautifully husky. I think of expensive whiskey and of a gorgeous devil’s eyes.

  Dante’s dark eyes are like a promise of wildness and passion. They’re like the depths of the navy ocean, infinite and mysterious. They lure women with a spell of dark decadence. They freeze like the Arctic’s air. They’re like salvation and like a curse.

  He was hard for me.

  No, he wasn’t. It’s my vivid imagination. He’s my hangman.

  But here I am, walking out of prison.

  “Yes, I’m very hungry.” I look over my shoulder and fucking hell, I trip over something.

  The moment I sway, his strong arms are around me and he lifts me off the floor. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly as his hot breath puffs into my neck, sending tingles down my spine.

  “Thanks,” I gasp.

  His smell invades me like a hot tangible being and my mind whirls.

  He corrects my position in his arms and walks out of the building.

  “I can walk,” I say.

  There’s no need for him to carry me like a bride.

  “You weigh nothing,” he says as something boyish sneaks into his gaze.

  Two hours ago, he was a scary bad cop. Now he’s a wonderful man. My heart flutters. A thought whisks through me. I could fall in love with him.

  I could if I were a normal girl.

  I could…

  No fucking way.

  We stop by an old car and he moves me onto his hip, supporting me with his arm. His other hand div
es into the pocket of his trousers. He takes the car keys out. I’m still wrapped around him like a snake.

  I like it.

  I’m of medium height, and I’m quite curvy, but in his arms I’m a thin dwarf.

  “I just changed my mind,” he says as he opens the car door. “I’m gonna cook something nice for you at my place.”

  I stiffen. My heart stops beating.

  No way in hell am I gonna go to his place.

  I squirm in his arms. “My mom will be worried, you know.”

  “Your aunt, you mean?” He puts me into the passenger seat. “Why is she not here then, huh? You’re on your own, that’s how it looks to me.”

  Fiona made the jeweller withdraw the charges against me. I’m sure Tyler is watching me from a distance, waiting for a chance to catch me and yank me out of Dante’s sight.

  We can’t risk exposure now. The Feds know too much. We need to be invisible.

  I raise my hands and open my mouth to protest but the door slams shut.

  Dante settles himself into the driver’s seat and all my senses focus on finding a way to escape.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he says as though he can read my mind.

  His voice is as cold as a glacier. Deadly. No, he’s not a man that you can fuck with.

  I decide to play a sweet doll.

  I curl my lips into a sugary sweet smile and run the back of my hand up and down his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He chuckles. “You little enchantress.” He starts the engine.

  The machine is singing. I know this engine. I’ve spent hours under the hood of my grandpa’s Chevrolet Bel Air. He loves teaching me about cars and Priest loves teaching me about motorcycles.

  My older brother is a prospect with the club. I’m a piece of decoration, a rare plant that everyone in the club can admire but nobody is allowed to touch. The old ladies and daughters are allowed to step into the bar a few times a month. That’s because the club members can be wild.

  I’ve seen a few parties from my hidden observation post. Yeah, those were orgies.

  I know my dad loves my mom and I know he doesn’t cheat on her. Why would he?

  She’s the most beautiful woman in the compound. He’s very possessive of her. I’ve seen him smash a few dicks who dared look at her.