Colt: Devil's Nightmare MC: Book 10

by Lena Bourne

  Brenda

  I spent most of the day dozing…recovering, really, from the wild night with Colt. Never has a man made me surrender so completely, to him, to the pleasure, to the moment. Never. I made up the bed and put up the Do Not Disturb sign so no one would come and disturb my dreamy remembrance of the magic we made in the dead of night, and the bright morning, for that matter. But by the time the pure white light of the day outside the windows turns to amber, I’m not so sure I haven’t just dreamed it all for real.

  He hasn’t called. His smell is faint on the sheets and maybe, just maybe, last night never happened.

  I started getting plagued by these weird memory lapses about two months into my stay with the Sinners. One day all that was happening to me was crystal clear, the next I wasn’t sure what was real. It was like a fog had descended on my mind, obliterating hours, sometimes days. And when it cleared, nothing was certain, nothing concrete.

  At first I told myself it was just the shock, just the stress of being a prisoner worth less than the shit on the bottom of their boots to the men holding me captive. But then the foggy days kept getting longer, started becoming weeks. I was afraid to tell Stormi, afraid to admit it to myself.

  Now I’m free, no Sinners holding me hostage, no Stormi to confide in, but no clarity either.

  By twilight, I’m starving and scared of being alone. The heat absorbed by the asphalt and earth all day hits me like a blast from a furnace as I step outside the wonderfully cool motel room. I wish this heat was just a figment of my imagination. But I’m not so lucky.

  The glass front of the vending machine is cracked and the blue and silver sign across the top is so busted I can only read the letters VEN and CHIN. Only about a third of the compartments are stocked and I should probably be afraid of eating anything from it, since no one’s been around to check on it for a long time.

  “If you’re hungry, we do have a cafeteria here,” a man says, startling me. But when I turn is the pimply kid from reception. “Nothing fancy, Ramen noodles and such like.”

  Is he the only one who works here? What the fuck is this? Bates motel? Maybe I should be scared of staying here alone. But Ramen Noodles sound very good right now. Much better a packet of those chips I’ve been eyeing in the vending machine, which I’m pretty sure are turning green with mold.

  “Which way?” I ask snappishly since I don’t much like the leering smirk on the kid’s face.

  “The door to the left of the reception,” he says, and points.

  I wait a few moments for him to lead the way but grow weary of him just standing there with a dumb half-smile on his face as he checks out my boobs.

  I feel his burning look on my ass as I start walking. I bet I could get a free meal out of this kid easy, he might even run down and get me a hamburger or something if I asked real nice, but somehow it’s a disembodied part of me thinking this. The woman I used to be before the Sinners caged me, I realize as I open the door.

  It’s dark and musty inside the cafeteria, I bet no one’s been in here in ages, much less opened a window.

  “I figured you’d get hungry long before now,” the kid says, flipping on the lights that cut my eyes as they come on brighter than the sun. “After the workout last night, I mean.”

  I round on him and give him the meanest, strictest look I can muster. Which might be softer than I intended, because at least he just confirmed that what I think happened last night actually did. Maybe I’m not going insane. Maybe my faulty memory is all just down to stress and tiredness.

  “You been spying on me?” I ask venomously. “You shouldn’t do that if you know what’s good for you.”

  Fear flashes across his eyes and his stupid grin falters for a moment. But then he just grins wider.

  “I got money if you’re up for some more fun,” he says. “And the noodles will be on the house, obviously.”

  I almost slap him. No, I almost punch him. But I do neither because above all, I just don’t want to touch him.

  “Watch your mouth, boy,” I hiss at him. “When my boyfriend hears of this, you’ll wish you kept your perverted ass in the backroom playing video games and your nasty thoughts to yourself. Assuming you’ll still be able to think when he gets done with you.”

  It’s been so long since I’ve actually had to put a man in his place by myself, I’m tripping over my words. While I was with Monarch, men hardly dared to look at me. And the Sinners weren’t very interested in me after I got friendly with Piston. Clearly, I’ve lost my touch, because this dumb kid just keeps grinning.

  “Your boyfriend?” he asks stupidly. “Oh, you mean that guy who couldn’t get out of here fast enough this morning. He didn’t even bother to pay for the room for tonight. But don’t worry, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Hearing that feels like all the air’s been sucked out of me, down to the last breath I was just taking. But I didn’t get this far in life by depending on anyone other than myself.

  “Is that right, you little bitch? He left me the money to pay for the room because he was in a hurry. And he really won’t be happy that you mistook me for a whore,” I say. “He won’t be happy to the tune of messing up your face, and you’ll be lucky if he stops there. He’s a killer and so am I.”

  I probably went too far, but at least the kid is sufficiently scared now. His mouth is gaping open, and he’s so pale, the zits on his face are standing out like red siren lights.

  “Now run along and get me some real food to eat and maybe I’ll let this slide, just this once,” I say.

  “Is…is pizza OK?” he stutters.

  “Yes, pizza’d be perfect.”

  “I’ll…I’ll order it,” he says, already backing up towards the door. He hits it ass first and spends a couple of cringey moments trying to get it open without taking his wide, scared eyes off me.

  “Bring it to my room,” I say once he finally gets the door open. He nods, turns, and strides away.

  When I follow him outside, he’s already inside the reception area, the phone pressed to his ear.

  Good. He’s handled. I just hope he’s not calling the cops.

  But my feeling of triumph is short-lived. The night I and Colt had, no, created was pure magic, unique and perfect, out of this world amazing, one of a kind. But was it just a fucking one night stand?

  12

  Colt

  Me and Blaze share a tiny bedroom in the bunker. There’s just enough room for a steel frame bunk and getting on and off it. Not enough room to turn, not for big guys like us. Most of the guys sleep in one room filled with camp beds, and I’m thinking that might be better, or at least airier, as I try and fail to get some sleep in this airless, windowless room. Every time I doze off, try as I might to hold on to the images of Brenda’s soft, milky skin, the pale pink of her nipples, and the deeper pink of her lips invariably turn to images of Mitch’s blown up body.

  His messed up, bloody face is so clear in my mind, I might as well have been there to see it. I wake up with the sound of the explosion ringing in my ears, my heart pounding, sweat beading on my forehead and running down the sides of my neck, and memories of Brenda so faint and faded I can’t call them back to mind.

  After the fourth time it happens, I give up, lower myself off the top bunk, take my clothes that I’ve tossed into a heap on the floor and go into the hall to get dressed.

  If we’re not doing anything, if we’re just sitting tight in this airless concrete box in the middle of the desert, I might as well get Cross’ permission to do my waiting at the Lucky Star Motel with Brenda. I can even move her somewhere closer to here. Because I have a nagging feeling I won’t escape the image of Mitch’s destroyed face until I’m in her arms again.

  I hope to hell I don’t run into Blaze as I make my way through the maze of hallways that make up this bunker to get to Cross’ office. Blaze will just try to talk me out of asking for this and I’ll end up listening to him, and I don’t want to.

  Raised voices fill
the hallway where Cross’ office is. A guy whose voice I don’t recognize is saying how there’s no way in hell he’s backing down from what was started last night. He goes on to list all the different ways the Knights have been wronged by the Sinners over the years and just how many scores they have to settle. He even goes so far as to tell Cross in no uncertain terms that they gave us the Sinners’ president, in exchange for being able to take out the rest of them. Gave us the Sinners, my ass. They gave us nothing.

  I’m almost at the office before I realize the door is open and I have no business being here since this is clearly execs level shit. I turn and stride away, total silence now filling the hall behind me.

  “This is our show, Butch,” Cross says in that dark, menacing tone he sometimes gets. The tone that lets everyone know he’s not a man to be messed with. “I lost one of my guys in your stunt last night and I will lose no more. You’re only in on this job because one of mine is related to you, and I wish to see justice done. But don’t push me and don’t assume any kind of command over me. You will pull back and do nothing until I say so. Is that clear?”

  I can practically hear the man who was speaking before swallowing hard.

  “Is that clear?” Cross asks again, his voice a few shades darker and even more menacing, if that’s even possible.

  “Fine, we do it your way,” the man finally says. I don’t hear honest agreement in his voice and I think he’s just saying that, but clearly Cross is willing to take him at his word, because they start moving around in there.

  I jog the rest of the way down the hallway and out of sight of the door. The last thing I need is to be caught eavesdropping on Cross’ private meeting right now. The man sounds pissed off as all hell. Livid.

  “Colt? What are you doing here?” Ace asks behind my back, startling me.

  When I turn, Cross is a few paces behind him, piercing me with his dark eyes so completely, I’m certain he knows I was listening in to his meeting. I’m the one swallowing hard.

  “I was just…I was gonna ask if I can…if I can take the rest of the night off and go off to—”

  “Everyone stays here tonight,” Cross says curtly. “And for the next couple of days. So don’t even bother asking again.”

  An older man passes him, striding away from us without a backward glance. He must be the one who was arguing with Cross—the Knights’ president. Dumb old fuck up! I could be riding home with Brenda’s arms around my waist right now if they hadn’t fucked up last night. Mitch would still be alive if they hadn’t fucked up.

  “Understood, Prez,” I say, the words sticking in my throat.

  But it is what it is. At least I got to spend one night with Brenda. Hopefully, that memory will last me through whatever the fuck Cross has planned for us now. It’ll have to.

  Night has fallen outside, taking the edge off the day’s heat but not drastically. Blaze just stared at me with his mouth open when I told him what I’d done and what I overheard. He was shaking his head throughout, asking no questions, making no comments.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” was all he said once I was done, gave me a death stare and another shake of the head, then left me alone by the bikes where we were having this conversation to go into the building.

  Most of the brothers are outside too, enjoying the coolness of the evening and not much else, it seems. No one’s really talking beyond exchanging a grumbled word or two. Eagle’s the most animated of everyone gathered here, explaining something—probably what happened to Mitch—to a group at the other edge of the building. I can’t hear his words, but I can see he’s agitated. We all are. Losing a brother is a hard thing, and it doesn’t get easier fast. It could’ve been any one of us.

  And on top of it, I might just lose my best friend with all this shit I’m pulling. But he knows me, he knows I think with my dick, he should be used to it by now.

  But there’s a limit to everything. I think I’m really close to it with Cross and I think Blaze is thinking the same thing.

  “Everyone inside!” Ace yells from the open doorway to the bunker. “Prez wants to talk to us all.”

  All conversations stop as the brothers start filing back into the cavernous main room of the bunker. Even Eagle, who was in the middle of a very heated discussion, stopped waving his arms around and ceased talking when Ace spoke. I’m farthest from the door, so I let the rest of them enter. It’s probably a fool’s hope, but I’m still hoping very much that this call to assemble is so Cross can tell us we’ll be riding home now.

  “That’s everyone!” Ace yells after I enter the building. He looks at me and comes to stand at my left, but doesn’t say anything.

  Cross is standing on a crate today, so he’s clearly visible in the sea of my brothers gathered in the room. Joe is standing by the side of Cross’ crate, his arm bandaged up from his wrist to his shoulder. He has a dazed look on his face like he doesn’t really know where he is. Doc is by his side, looking at him with concern etched into his face. Hopefully, he gave him something strong enough to dull not just the physical pain but the mind’s pain too. I can’t imagine what I’d do if Blaze died. I don’t want to imagine it.

  “As you all probably know by now, Mitch was killed last night,” he says without wasting any time. A few of the brothers groan. Not in surprise, just regret, and sadness.

  “It was a senseless death, an accident that shouldn’t have been possible, but all accidents are—”

  “It was the fucking Knights’ fault!” One of the brothers yells. Cross casts a dark look in that direction.

  “Yeah!” Another brother yells. “What are we gonna do about it?”

  Several more raise their voices, saying pretty much the same thing.

  “Nothing!” Cross answers. “We will do nothing. Because it was an accident. A miscommunication. The bomb went off because it wasn’t handled right. The Knights lost two of their own in the blast too. That’s punishment enough.”

  A few of the brothers grumble and the energy in the room is murderous. I want revenge too. The thirst for it is hanging in the air around us, thick like fog. But Cross’ word is law. No one questions it. Ever.

  “Now, please join me in a moment of silence to remember him.”

  He hangs his head, and I follow his example. I focus hard on my interlaced hands, but I can’t still my thoughts enough to think of nothing but my fallen brother. The silence in the room is so absolute I can hear the wind rustling the dried up shrubs outside. My heart’s racing, my stomach’s clenched, and I want a drink so bad that bile is rising in my throat. A drink and Brenda and then things might be at least a little closer to OK. Mitch will never have a drink again. He’ll never enjoy a woman again. Never ride again. Never…never do anything at all again.

  “Once we get home, we will honor Mitch as we would any fallen brother. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to recover his body last night, but Hawk is doing everything he can to fix that. Although Mitch’s family might want to claim his body and we will honor that too,” Cross says, breaking the tense, sad silence. “For now, we must stay put. Tomorrow, we’ll start investigating what we’re facing now, but carefully. We don’t know why the cops showed up last night or what their aim was. Until we do, we have to stay out of sight and this bunker is the safest place for us. So I expect everyone to stay here, no exceptions, except on my orders.”

  His gaze passes over all of us, and I feel like it lingered on me a little more pointedly.

  But I’m through defying Cross’ orders. And I certainly won’t do anything to put any one of my brothers in danger. Not now. Not after we just lost Mitch. Not after we lost him so that we don’t even have his body to bury.

  Brenda

  The pizza arrived so fast it was too hot to eat, and I slammed the door in the pimply kid’s face the moment after he delivered it. I don’t want to discuss paying for the room. If I do that, I won’t have enough for a bus ticket out of here. Getting out of here should be my first priority.

  Who
knows if Colt will ever be back…I sure don’t. I just want his promises to be true.

  I wolf down more than half of the extra-large pie, which is possibly more food than I’ve ever eaten in one sitting. It also tastes better than any pizza I’ve ever had—the cheese rich and thick and baked just enough to be both crunchy and soft, and the crust must be some ancient recipe from the old country because I’ve never had finer.

  Despite a growing stomach ache, that’s threatening to get worse I feel better once I’m full.

  If Colt doesn’t show up by midnight, I’m outta here. If he doesn’t at least call…

  That’s what I promised myself after I finished eating. It’s past midnight now and I’m still waiting.

  He’ll be back. I know he will.

  Besides, I bet that kid’s watching me real close now. He’ll see me leave.

  The phone ringing wakes me. I have no idea what time it is, but the room is so quiet I bet it’s late. I almost roll right off the bed as I reach for it.

  “Brenda?” Colt says, and I’m wide awake from the hope welling in my chest. But his voice sounds so damn distant.

  “Yeah,” I say. “You said you’d be back.”

  “And I will be,” he assures me. “Just not yet.”

  “When?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  My heart’s racing and I don’t know if it’s in fright or anger. It’s both, I guess. “The only time a guy says that is when he’s hiding a woman he doesn’t want me to know about at home.”

  He actually has the gall to chuckle. “No woman. Except you.”

  Fuck me, but hearing that from him makes my chest go all warm and fuzzy for a second.

  “What does that even mean?” I don’t know if I’m asking him or myself.

  “I’m on a job here and I can’t get away to see you right now,” he says. “But I want to.”

  “Oh, well, that makes it so much better,” I snap, even though it actually does. “The kid at reception says the room isn’t paid for. And I only have enough of my own money left for a one-way ticket to Vegas.”