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

by Brogan Riley

  I have a shower, brush my teeth, and slip into fresh clothes. Somebody knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” I rasp.

  The door creaks open and Santi walks in. He’s holding a tray in his hands. It must be my breakfast.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “The girls have refused to serve you, so I’ll be your maid from now on.” He puts the tray on the desk standing by the window.

  I erupt into laughter. “Are they scared of me or what?”

  “No, they’re not scared of you. Of someone else.”

  “Chantal—“

  “Don’t. Man, do you fucking even have something called a self-preservation instinct?”

  I raise my hands in a warding gesture and then grab a slice of toast. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “Prez wants to see you.”

  “Good.”

  Santi flashes me a grin. “Be honest with him.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” I wolf down the scrambled eggs. “How is she?”

  “Man, stop asking. She’s forbidden, you don’t fucking get it, do you?”

  I have the impression that he’s really trying to help me. He’s a good fighter but not a killer. I’ve seen killers in life. Jackson is one.

  “Can you tell her I’m fine?” I say.

  “Fucking hell, man, you may be dead tomorrow. Start thinking how to save your ass. Prez is trying to be a good host, you know. Have some pussy. Have fun. Cooperate.” He stresses the last word.

  “I will cooperate.”

  Santi grunts.

  I finish my breakfast in silence. Santi gestures for me to walk out of the room and leads me over to Liberator.

  We go to the basement. It looks like a maze of dark caverns, metal doors, and pipes. We enter their office. Jackson is standing by a worn out table. Santi bows his head and walks off. I drop into a chair.

  Jackson shoves a shot of vodka toward me and takes a seat opposite me. “I’ve hacked into your files.”

  The guy doesn’t like to waste time.

  I bow at him. “So you know everything about me.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s the point in talking then?”

  “I want to hear you.”

  I nod. “What do you need to know?”

  “Who was that little girl to you?”

  “A childhood friend.” I feel my muscles stiffen as my fingers roll into fists. The wound on my heart reopens and burns as hell. “They kidnapped her when she was thirteen. Her body was found ten years later.”

  “It was found with a black four-legged spider on her back, right?”

  “Yes, the body had been mutilated and buried in the desert by the Mexican border.”

  “You’re a federal agent because you want to seek justice for her?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Trinity was like a sister to me. We were neighbours. We grew up together. When I became a federal agent, I got access to her files.

  I don’t know whether this is about revenge or justice. No child should suffer like her. No woman should die such a violent death.

  It was as though they had taken my blood sister. I just couldn’t leave it.

  Pain courses through my heart. Trinity and I were playing basketball on that fatal day. The ball hovered behind the line of trees. I told her to go find it. She wasn’t happy about it because she was scared of spiders. I called her a coward and she showed me her middle finger. She went to grab the ball and prove herself. She never came back.

  Jackson nods several times. “Stay with us for a while and we’ll see.”

  “I have that bracelet on my ankle. I’m not gonna escape from the compound anyway. I’m kind of scared of the prospect of my body being blown out.”

  “Stay and we’ll see about the bracelet.” He grins at me. “Drink.”

  I down my vodka and slam the glass down on the table. “Any rules?”

  His eyes are icy cold. “A few. Don’t look at my wife. Don’t look at my daughter. Don’t wander around the compound at night.” He downs his shot. “I’ll give you Andrea and she’ll keep you occupied at night.”

  Fucking hell, he’s really trying to be a good host.

  “No need, Prez,” I say. “I just decided to live a life of celibacy.”

  “Andrea has a very skilled mouth.”

  “You know it from your experience?”

  “No, I heard it from my boys.”

  He’s admitted he’s faithful to his wife. Fuck me. I have a load of respect for him.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine, Prez.”

  He rumbles like an old bear. “I like you.” His eyes wander off for a moment then bore into me and he’s a stone cold killer again. “Stay away from Chantal.”

  I raise my hands in a warding gesture. “I understand.”

  I nod several times, but a rebellious flame ignites inside of me. It’s fierce and unstoppable.

  I’ll fucking find a way. Chantal is mine. Nobody and nothing will stop me from claiming her.

  Jackson looks at me like he knows my thoughts but says nothing. He downs another shot and slams the glass down on the table. “Get out.”

  I don’t hesitate.

  I tumble out of the office and bounce off Santi. A nasty swear word leaves his mouth. He glides his palm over his shaved head and leads me over to the bar. We sit down on a couch.

  “A few rules,” Santi says.

  “Sure.”

  “You look at my wife and you’ll be dead.”

  The guy is not joking.

  I salute him. “Any other wives I should avoid like the plague?”

  He chuckles. “Tyler’s wife.”

  “Fiona, right?”

  “Right.” He nods several times. “She’ll knock your teeth out if you as much as look at her.”

  I feel like a detective investigating the mysteries of WW2. I want to know everything. I’ve spent a few years trying to piece it together and now I have the chance to do it at last. They’re like some fucking legendary heroes. I admire them. I want to know all of their tricks.

  They’re ruthless but efficient.

  They’re untraceable.

  “Violet,” Santi continues. “You’ll know them all as time goes by.”

  “You mean I’m gonna live for a while?”

  “Yes, for a while.”

  Chantal

  I know he’s alive and will be alive for a while.

  Every morning, I’m waking up with his face blurring in my mind. Thank God, Violet keeps me occupied. Otherwise I’d gone mad.

  I haven’t seen him yet, but Santi said he was fine. He seems to spend a lot of time with my dad. I don’t know whether it’s good or bad.

  I lay down little Georgina into her cot and smooth a hand over the blanket wrapped around Anastasia. A tiny hand squeezes my shoulder.

  “Your dad is waiting for you outside the house,” Violet whispers.

  I stiffen.

  It’s been two weeks since I returned to the compound.

  “Go,” Violet says.

  “You think—“

  “Go, he just wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “He’s worried, Chantal. Go talk to him.” She squeezes my hand with hers.

  So, I go.

  I walk out of the house and freeze at the sight of my dad. “Hi.”

  “You forgot you have a family?” His eyes are like two dark lakes of reproach and concern.

  “Well—“

  “Have a walk with me.”

  He’s not mad at me, just strangely sad.

  “You’re not gonna push me off the cliff, are you?” I ask with a hint of humour.

  He chuckles, offering me his elbow. I loop my arm through his and we saunter towards the cliff. A gust of wind scented with seaweed lifts my hair as we stop and watch the ocean’s waves.

  “I’m sorry,” I squeak.

  “For what exactly?”

  “For the necklace and hacking.
”

  “We steal to survive. We hack to survive.”

  “I know.”

  “How much do you know?”

  I suck in a breath. “Well—“

  “How much?”

  “About those sick fucks? I’d say not too much. You’re pretty good at passwords and all the shit.”

  “You’re much better than me.”

  I freeze. He sounds like he’s proud of me. “Thanks, Dad.”

  The wind smacks my face as the ocean’s waves crash on the rocks. The sound is strangely liberating.

  My dad nods several times. “He is a good man.”

  “Dante?”

  “Agent Lamon.”

  “I mean Agent Lamon.”

  “But he wasn’t professional and you’re my daughter.” There’s a ruthless cold tune in his voice.

  He is like this when he’s going to do club business.

  “He didn’t… Dad, just don’t kill him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Stay away from him.”

  I choke back tears and say nothing.

  “And keep quiet. Your mom doesn’t need to hear about that shit.”

  “Why do you shelter her from everyone and everything? She’s a grown ass tough woman and you’re always so… so… I don’t know so damn overprotective of her. She’s like your little princess unaware of the whole bad world around her.”

  “She knows more than you think she does. I just don’t want her old wounds to reopen.”

  “What wounds?” Coldness pierces my heart. “What happened to her? She never—“

  “Enough, Chantal. Keep quiet and never mention anything about the Arachnid Conclave to her. Ever, you hear me? She deserves peace.”

  Something strangles my throat and sucks life out of me. “I understand.”

  We stand in silence and then two seagulls scream above our heads, floating like two kites against the ashy expanse of the sky.

  “Are you going to smash them?” I ask.

  “With Dante, it could be doable. He could open a few doors for us.”

  Relief washes over me, giving me a shot of dizziness. My dad needs Dante, needs him alive.

  He throws his arm around my back and kisses me on the top of my head. “Your mom wants to see you for a family dinner with us tonight.”

  “Okay, that’s doable.”

  I cling to his strong arm as we saunter towards the lighthouse that’s been my family home for three years.

  We lived at the border of Alaska until my dad’s club could claim this place back. With the help of my distant uncle Ricky, and my grandpa Zeus, the compound has become a high-security citadel.

  To the outer world, we’re a private property owned by a non-existing eccentric artist, Klaus Wanahner. It’s Priest wearing a wig to be precise. He makes an appearance in the city nearby two, three times a year, showing off his work—canvases by Ricky’s wife Shirley and drawings by my little sister Ana.

  Who said we didn’t have a sense of humour in life? We’re outlaws but we’re not mortally serious. We’re family people. We trust one another.

  Over the last ten years, the club has grown in numbers. The kids have grown and new members have joined us. Heath is a former young gangster. Theo is a pretty boy who’s killed his abusive stepfather. Grant is a heartbroken old gay. Ambrosio and Thunder are war veterans. Ricky attends church and his family have dinner with us twice a month. Zeus and Larissa visit us three, four times a year. I visit them twice a month. My grandpa is a mobster. My grandma is twenty years younger than him, and she’s the best lawyer in the country.

  The police have raided the compound three times so far but each time they found only Klaus and his female models. Ricky has four rats in four police departments. We always know about the raid at least two weeks ahead so we can hide in the basement. There’s a small bunker under the floor. Ricky built it many years ago.

  We don’t have a lot of belongings. It’s one of the rules. If you want to be one of us you’ll be as poor as a hermit.

  We enter the lighthouse and my mom pulls me into her arms. She holds me in her embrace like the world is going to end.

  I wiggle out and hug Ana and then my younger brother. They both look at me with reproach. Pain jabs my heart. From now on, I’ll be a better sister to them. They’re so attached to me and miss me each time I leave the compound. We’re like a real pack of wolves, I guess.

  I walk over to the dining room and stop in the doorway. My eyes travel to a figure seated at the table. My heart stops beating. My breath stops in my throat.

  My God. It’s Dante.

  “You’re moving in with us, Agent Lamon?” I say in a hoarse voice.

  “No.” He smirks at me. “Just going to eat with you from time to time.”

  “My dad is a good cook,” I say as my eyes slide over the fading bruises on his face. Something jabs my heart like a thorn. “You’ll love his cooking, you’ll see.”

  “I already love the atmosphere in his house,” Dante says and winks at me.

  My knees bend and I jerk my hand up to find support against the wall. “We’re a bunch of freaks.”

  “You’re a freak,” Ana says behind me, clearly offended. That causes a chuckle to leave Dante’s kissable mouth.

  Chapter 7

  Dante

  She takes a seat at the opposite edge of the table. So close. So far away from me. Jackson and Poppy start delivering food to the table. She rises to her feet, but her mom tells her to sit and eat. I rise to my feet, but Poppy tells me to sit and eat.

  Ana shows me her books and toys. Jackson pours me a glass of beer. The food is delicious.

  “You look… better, Dante,” Chantal says. “I mean Agent Lamon.”

  “Let’s make it easier for everyone,” Jackson says. “Copper. He’s a prospect with us.”

  “Since when?” Chantal explodes.

  “Since tomorrow,” Jackson says. “If I’m in a good mood tomorrow.”

  Poppy erupts into laughter, but I know she’s watching me, analysing every sentence coming out of my mind. It’s like some fucking test. I’m pretty sure she’s been testing me since we met.

  Chantal locks her eyes onto mine. “You look better, Copper.”

  “You look good too,” I say. I glance over at Jackson. “You’re a happy man, Prez. So much beauty around you.”

  “My own perfect little garden,” Jackson says. “Private. No strangers allowed.”

  Poppy rolls her eyes and Chantal drops her head.

  I clear my throat. “The stew is really good.”

  Now I have his honest attention. “Five hours of cooking, that’s the whole secret.”

  “You don’t enter the kitchen when he’s in his cooking trance,” Poppy says. “I’m a horrible cook by the way.”

  “You’re good at other things, I’m sure,” I say.

  She flashes me a warning half-smile that probably means ‘I’m a mom and wife in here so keep your mouth shut’.

  Yes, she’s a loving warm woman in here. She’s Selene here—Jackson’s order to call her like that. It’s hard to believe that she can turn into his shameless bitch when they’re sitting at the bar.

  I really envy him.

  I want the same in life. Brightness fills my mind and my goals become crystal clear to me. I can smash my enemies as one of them. They don’t have to obey the law. They’re much more efficient than the police or the FBI.

  I can be invincible as one of them.

  I can be happy as one of them.

  I like this lifestyle, the freedom, the wildness. The sense of brotherhood I’ve never seen before. I want to be one of the club brothers.

  I love the idea of having an innocent little wife. Fuck, my dick loves that idea even more.

  Yes, Chantal has good genes. She could be a perfect wife to me.

  Chantal

  We finish the meal and my mom starts collecting the dirty plates. The men empty their glasses of beer and go to the clubhouse. My siblings vanish. My
mom fixes her eyes onto mine as we walk into the kitchen.

  “Your dad will either kill him or accept him to the family,” she says, putting the plates into the dishwasher.

  Chills go down my spine. “Everyone knows?” I drop onto a bar stool.

  “It’s pouring out of you both. I’m not blind. The others are not blind either.” She presses the green button and the dishwasher plays a melody.

  “Was it like this when you met Dad?”

  She chuckles. “I thought he wanted to kill me. I was so madly in love with him and so frightened at the same time.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  The delicate humming of the dishwasher fills the air.

  My mom emits a long sigh. “I didn’t know life, Chantal. I knew only darkness.” She blinks a few times like she’s realised that she said too much. “Another coffee?”

  “What happened to you in the past?” I put my elbows on the kitchen table and lean forward. The lighthouse is quite claustrophobic but the kitchen has an extension so it’s very spacious. “He calls you Poppy, when he thinks we can’t hear.”

  “You hack into his files when you think nobody can see you.”

  “That’s no crime. That’s genes, Mom.”

  “Good you have them from him.” She sighs as her eyes wander off. She winces as if in pain. “So many bad memories.”

  “Mom?”

  I can sense something is bothering her, something is gathering inside of her and it’s threatening to pour out.

  Secrets are not good among family members, Chantal’s rule number six.

  “Let’s go out for a walk.” She glances over at me as her chin quivers.

  “Sure. Let’s go.” I flop from the bar stool and move towards the front door, picking up my black hoody from the narrow side table.

  My mom follows me, lost in thought.

  Dante

  We’re seated around the worn out table in the office. I’m not even a prospect with the club but I’m allowed to attend church. That means they’ll either kill me soon or adopt me.

  “Speak, Copper,” Jackson says, his voice part serious, part humorous.

  I rise to my feet. “The scorpion tattoos mark their soldiers,” I say. “The black eight-legged spider tattoos mark their nobility. Their subsidizers.”