by Claire Adams
“Nothing,” Mila admitted. “I didn’t know enough to tell him anything. He knew that I didn’t spend a lot of time with Devon in the first place.”
“Odd that he was curious about it though,” Bones said, looking around the loose circle and making his own assumptions.
“Why?” Mila asked, reading the atmosphere in the room. “Do you think it’s important that he was interested in the club?”
“He wasn’t interested in the club,” I corrected her. “He was interested in how the club was run. He was working you.”
Mila frowned. “Working me?”
“This is not some random possessive boyfriend we’re talking about here,” I said. “This is a man with a motive. This is a man with a vendetta.”
“A vendetta against whom?” Mila asked.
“Who else?” I said. “Me… us… the Fallen Angels as a whole.”
“Fuck,” Devon said, looking towards me. “Do you think this is connected with the turf war that killed your father?”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense to me at the moment,” I said. “Mila happens to get involved with a man who’s interested in our club. Then, he disappears shortly after nearly strangling her to death, putting us all on high alert. We close ranks in order to protect her, and when he re-appears to claim what’s his, things escalate and—”
“We have another fight on our hands,” Devon finished for me.
“Exactly,” I nodded. “And Godwin has the excuse he needs to finish off the Angels once and for all.”
“He’s the one that brokered the truce with you,” Bones pointed out.
“Because we had his son’s body,” I said. “And he and his best man were cornered, and he was afraid if he didn’t suggest a truce, then his life would be forfeit too. Trust me… he wasn’t trying to be noble. He was trying to save his skin before we killed him.”
“Excuse me,” Mila said suddenly.
I realized how pale she looked, and for a moment I thought she was going to throw up. She turned and went back upstairs, obviously seeking refuge in her room. I watched her go and then turned to my men.
“I think he’s baiting us,” I said. “Mila was just a pawn in his game.”
“So what do you reckon?” Red asked. He sounded more excited than nervous. “What do you think his plan is?”
“I think he wants us to be the ones to break the truce first,” I said. “That way, he can open fire, and he can maintain the illusion of honor. His men won’t respect a leader who doesn’t keep his word. He needs us to come at him first.”
“We don’t know for sure that Godwin is mixed up in all of this,” Bones pointed out. “And until we do, we can’t make any moves. We need to wait and watch.”
It was the most difficult thing to do, but I happened to agree with Bones on this one. I favored tactical caution over headstrong bravery that more often than not amounted to sheer stupidity. I wanted revenge too, but I had to think about my men first.
“Keep digging,” I told my men. “We need to flush this guy out. The sooner we know who he is the better.”
As the men filtered out one by one, I went upstairs. Mila’s room door was closed, so this time I knocked before I barged in.
“Who is it?” Mila asked from the inside.
“It’s me,” I said, without bothering to say my name.
A second later, the door opened, and I walked inside. Mila still looked a little pale. She had a few bruises on her arms from the week of intensive training. She had made strides in a small window of time, and I was actually impressed by how determined she was.
“You don’t look so good,” I pointed out.
“I’m fine,” she said defensively.
I sprawled out on her bed and cocked my head to the side. “Doesn’t seem that way.”
“Do you mind?” Mila said, trying to knock my legs off her bed.
I refused to budge. Instead, I simply moved my legs a few inches to the side so that Mila could sit down on the edge of the bed. She groaned in frustration and sat down beside me.
“Why are you here?”
“Something was bothering you down there. I want to know what it was.”
Mila seemed hesitant. “Have you actually… killed men?” she asked at last.
I paused. “Well… they were bad guys,” I said.
“That’s your justification?” she asked incredulously.
“I think it’s a pretty good one actually,” I said. “They were bad guys who were doing illegal shit.”
“And you don’t?”
“Don’t what?”
“You don’t do illegal shit?” Mila asked.
“No, we don’t,” I said. “That’s not what we were ever about. My father made sure of it.”
“But you have killed men?”
“Men who’ve had it coming.”
Mila shook her head. “And the police?”
“The police,” I scoffed. “Who do you think is behind half the cover-ups in this town?”
“Because they work for Godwin?” Mila asked.
“Half of them do,” I nodded. “And the other half are scared that they’ll lose their jobs if the higher ups know how badly out of control shit is down in this neck of the woods. So they contain it to a point, and allow us to sort out business on our own terms. To the general public, we’re seen as gang members, a dangerous menace to society. If a gang member dies, it’s not like anybody cares.”
“I would care,” Mila said unexpectedly.
I turned to her, wondering if that unexpected bout of compassion was directed towards me. “You would?” I asked, with raised eyebrows.
She seemed to get self-conscious all of a sudden. “Of course,” she nodded. “My brother is a part of that group.”
“Oh… right.”
Of course she was thinking about her brother. It was stupid of me to have thought otherwise. “I should go,” I said, standing up.
Mila stood with me. “I… I thought we could train tonight.”
“Tonight?” I repeated. “That doesn’t work for me. I’ll be out tonight.”
“Oh,” Mila said, and she sounded disappointed. “Where are you going?”
“A lot been happening these last few days,” I said, wondering if I could get a reaction out of her. “I need a good fuck to release some stress.”
I saw her expression turn hard immediately, and I almost smiled at her reaction. “Seriously?” she said bitingly.
“Yeah,” I nodded, with a shrug. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Who do you plan on fucking?” Mila asked, ignoring my question completely.
“Whomever,” I said uncaringly. “I don’t give a shit who she is… all I need is a warm and willing body for a couple of hours.”
Mila’s face contorted in disgust. “You are a pig.”
“And you…are jealous.”
Mila scoffed. “Please… I am not jealous.”
“No?”
“No,” she insisted firmly. “I’m just… disgusted and offended on behalf of all the women out there.”
“How noble of you,” I said, taking a step towards her.
She backed away from me and narrowed her eyes. “Do you get a kick out of treating women the way you do?” she demanded.
I smiled. “You act as though I’m a monster.”
“Maybe you are.”
“I don’t lie to anyone,” I said. “I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. And I certainly don’t make these women any promises. It’s not like they care about me. It’s not like they want to know my name or my history either. So why can’t two consenting adults fuck each other silly and then forget each other the next day?”
Mila looked extremely uncomfortable now, and I could tell she was getting angry too. Her eyes flashed, and her body grew more tense. I could feel waves of heat wafting off her as though I had lit her on fire somehow. I was hard, but I didn’t let it show.
“You know what?” Mila said. “You can do wh
atever the fuck you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”
I smiled as I leaned into her just a little. “Really? Because it really seems like it does matter to you. There is one way to keep me here tonight, you know, and it’s a simple one.”
Mila frowned, but I knew she wouldn’t bring herself to actually ask what that was. I traced my finger down the side of her arm and whispered, “I could sneak into this room tonight, and you could fuck me.”
Mila’s eyes burned a little brighter for a moment and then she pushed past me roughly, breaking the magnetic connection between us. “Get the hell out of my room,” she spat.
“Don’t say you’re not intrigued by that suggestion.”
“Trust me, I’m not,” Mila assured me. “I wouldn’t come near you. You’re just a jumped-up chauvinist with no idea how to treat a woman.”
“On the contrary, I know exactly how to treat a woman,” I said confidently. “I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t make cum.”
I saw Mila’s body tense a little, and I thought I saw a shiver pass through her. “If you want, I can prove it to you right here and now,” I said. “I can make you cum over and over again until your body is spent and your pussy is raw.”
She was breathing heavily. I could see her chest rise and fall with every breath. She walked towards me, and for one giddy moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. But instead, she placed both hands on my chest and pushed me out her door.
“You’re not getting anywhere near my pussy,” Mila said coldly. “Have fun tonight.”
Then she slammed the door in my face, and I stood there with a raging erection and no satisfying way to get rid of it.
Chapter Eight
Mila
I had just finished wrapping the ice cubes I’d taken from the kitchen in a soft cloth when I heard a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I called. “It’s open.”
A second later, Devon walked in. “Hi,” I said, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here? Have you heard anything?” I asked, sitting up a little straighter.
“No… uh… what are you doing?” Devon asked, eyeing the cold cloth in my hand.
“Oh… I was just applying some old home remedies to my bruises… reduce the swelling a little.”
Devon stood uncomfortably by the side of my bed. There was no real place for him to sit apart from the bed.
“Sit down,” I said.
He sat down on the very edge and regarded my arms carefully. I was wearing a tank top and shorts, and he could see the full extent of all my bruises. The older ones had slightly yellowed, and they were looking sickly, but they felt a lot better. The newer bruises were beautiful shades of blue and purple however, and they smarted more than I was willing to admit.
“He’s not going easy on you, is he?” Devon asked.
“He never claimed he would,” I said.
“I can talk to him if you want.”
“No,” I said immediately. “Please… don’t talk to him. I don’t want him thinking… I… don’t talk to him.”
Devon raised his eyebrows but nodded. “Ok,” he agreed. He wrung his hands together for a moment. “I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing… how you were coping living here with a bunch of men.”
I smiled. Devon and I hadn’t grown up together. We had met through our father, but even those meetings had been insignificant because Devon had been years older, and forming a relationship with me hadn’t been high on his priority list. The bottom line was that I didn’t really know him all that well. Even when we had made an attempt to meet each other when we were adults and our father was out of the picture, the conversations had been forced.
Now that I saw him regularly and was fully immersed in his world, I was learning more about Devon. He was protective and loyal, he was considerate, and he had a softer side to him that Dad had never possessed. I had never met his mother, and I wondered how much he took after her.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “I mean… I think I’m adjusting slowly. I’ll admit… it wasn’t really easy at first.”
“Because of Zack?” Devon asked.
“He was a part of it,” I admitted. “But it was more than that. I didn’t really get this kind of lifestyle… If I’m being truthful, I still don’t get it much.”
Devon smiled. “Fair enough.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“What made you join?”
Devon was quiet for a second. “Full disclosure?”
“Yes, please.”
“I was tired of feeling alone,” Devon replied.
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“I didn’t have much of a family growing up,” Devon explained. “Dad was, well… you know how he was. In and out of my life whenever it suited him. And more often than not the only reason he came to visit was that he needed something from Mom or me. I had friends that changed with every passing year, and Mom was… it wasn’t that she was a bad mother, she just worked three jobs my entire life, so she wasn’t around very much.”
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She died some years ago,” Devon replied. “Heart attack.”
“No,” I gasped. “I didn’t even know. You never told me.”
Devon shrugged. I realized just how disconnected we had been. But the moment I needed help desperately, I had called Devon, and he had shown up for me.
“Is that when you joined up here?” I asked.
“Yeah, I suppose that was the catalyst,” Devon nodded. “I think I just wanted some security. We may have our issues in this club, but at the end of the day, we’re a brotherhood. We have each other’s backs.”
I nodded. “And you like it… this lifestyle?”
Devon smiled. “It grows on you… trust me. You might find yourself liking it, too, before long.”
I smirked. “I don’t know about that. In any case, will I even have the option?”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen any women around here… and I’ve been here a week,” I pointed out.
“Oh,” Devon nodded. “Zack doesn’t really encourage us to bring our women to the clubhouse. This is mostly an estrogen-free space.”
“Apart from me.”
“Yes,” Devon smiled. “But that’s temporary.”
“You guys hope.”
Devon chuckled. “The only women that come through here are Zack’s… and they’re just passing ships. No woman ever spends more than one night with him in any case.”
I felt my hands clench a little at the subject. I didn’t want to have such a visceral reaction, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. And I couldn’t seem to keep my curiosity in check either.
“He brings home a lot of women, huh?” I asked, hoping that my tone was indifferently curious. I wondered if it was even possible to be indifferently curious. I was pretty sure that was an oxymoron.
“Usually,” Devon nodded, and then he frowned. “Actually now that I think about it, he hasn’t brought anyone over this whole week… has he?”
“I haven’t seen anyone,” I admitted.
“That’s odd,” Devon said. “He usually has a couple of girls over in any given week.”
“Geez,” I said, unable to contain my disgust. “He sounds like a pig.”
“Why?” Devon asked. “Because he’s living his life?”
“He treats women like shit,” I pointed out.
“He doesn’t,” Devon said, defending Zack. “Or at least… he doesn’t treat women any differently than he treats men.”
“So what you’re saying is he treats everyone like shit?”
Devon smiled. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“What’s his deal though?” I asked. “I mean… he’s really young compared to some of the other members I’ve met. How come he became president over older members of the club? Was it just a case of nepotism?”
“Of course not,” Devon said. “We vote in our president.”
“Really?” I asked. “So everyone chose Zack?”
“Yes,” Devon nodded.
“Why?”
Devon smiled. “You don’t think much of him, do you?”
“I think he’s a bully,” I said, keeping the rest of my opinions about Zack to myself. “I don’t like bullies.”
“He kind of has to be a bully,” Devon said. “He has to maintain a façade of strength and power. No one respects an MC leader people can mess with. Zack was raised on this lifestyle, but when he was a teenager, he had a falling out with his father, and he left for a time. This was before I joined up, so I’ve heard this story from older members who’ve been here longer.
“When he was in his early twenties, he showed up again and apparently when he walked into this very clubhouse, his father kicked him out. He had to earn his way back into the inner circle. He had to start at the bottom, become a pledge, and earn his patches. Everyone assumes that because he was John’s son, it came easy for him, but that’s not true.
“Zack was still trying to earn back his patches when I became a pledge myself. I watched him go through all sorts of shit, and his own father orchestrated most of it. But he didn’t complain or fight back. He took the shit and kept working until he had won back his father’s respect and trust. And in the process, he won everyone’s respect… including mine.”
“What happened between Zack and his father that caused him to leave?” I asked.
“No one knows,” Devon replied. “John never spoke about it, and neither does Zack. Whatever it was… they put it behind them when Zack came back. After the turf war blew up, and we lost John, the decision was unanimous… everyone felt that Zack was the most capable among us and he deserved to be president. There was something poetic about that moment.”
“What started the turf war?” I asked. “Was it just about territory?”
Devon smiled. “It’s never just about territory,” he said. “The truth is that Godwin and John had an old feud brewing between them that went back decades. Both were ambitious young men, and both were part of strong rival MC gangs. The Lucifer’s Knights grew in size and strength though, while John chose to keep his crew smaller.”
“Why?”