One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own #1)

by Amo Jones

  “This is Beast, and he’s the president of a motorcycle club. He’s my friend,” Meadow finishes.

  The kids begin walking up to us. “Friend?” one asks, stepping closer. He has to be the eldest one. His jeans hanging low off his hips, a basketball tank on with his cap flipped backward.

  “You don’t have many friends, Meadow.” He smiles at her, and when I look down at these kids, I can see how much they admire Meadow. She’s fucking amazing at what she does. She used her fucked up past to help people, instead of using it as an excuse to become a needle stabbing junkie slut with daddy issues. She takes my breath away.

  “Yeah, well…” Meadow starts, bringing her eyes up to mine, “…I happen to like his bike.” They all laugh and I narrow my eyes at her as a smile involuntarily comes across my lips.

  She’ll be liking a lot more than my bike, of that I am sure.

  Once we walk out of the reception, she turns her head to me. “Thank you for doing that. They’re troubled kids, and you didn’t have to come in there with me.”

  Handing her a helmet, I answer, “I wanted to. How did you come about this place?”

  She clips her helmet on. “Tommy, actually. They fund the whole thing.” She smiles, walking to my bike. My jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.

  Fuck.

  Unclenching my fist, I walk to my bike and smile at her. “That’s sweet. Come on, we gotta go.”

  Heading back toward the compound with Meadow’s hands wrapped around me, I fight the urge to pull over and kiss her. I have no fucking idea what’s gotten into me. This thing I have going with her should probably stop, but I won’t be the one to stop it. I’ll go slow, but I’m definitely not stopping.

  We pull in through the high gates, Travis opening them up for us as I park my bike in our line opposite the Sinful Souls. I can’t wait to head back to Vegas, but there’s an empty pit in my stomach that knows I’m going to fucking miss this girl, and it’s only been twenty-four hours since I first saw her again. I need to pull my shit back together.

  Switching off my bike, she swings her leg off, hands me my helmet and fluffs her hair up. Her long brown hair falling over her shoulders in natural chocolate waves.

  Jesus… what the fuck was that about, my dick has taken hostage of my brain.

  Narrowing my eyes, I smirk at her. “What?” she asks shyly, bringing her hands back down to the front of her small but curvy body. My fingers twitch at the thought of how that delicate, smooth skin would feel under my not so delicate touch.

  I’d ruin her, and I’d enjoy it.

  Fuck it.

  My hands rise up to her hair as I brush the dark strands away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. Her lip draws into her mouth showcasing those two perfect dimples on each cheek and her eyes lock onto mine. The deep blue and green hues reflecting off each other in an intricate array of color, every fleck that’s scattered through her eyes telling a story—a story of how one broken girl can become her own hero. I run the back of my knuckles over her cheek, the smoothness of her skin gliding over my rough knuckles—polar opposites, where pure meets evil. Her head leans into my knuckles ever so slightly, so slightly I almost miss it. It’s not until her eyes close and her chest begins to rise and fall deeply that I comprehend what she’s doing. She’s giving me permission to kiss her.

  Bringing my thumb down to her bottom lip, I run it across the rim of her lip. Her eyes open to me. My eyebrows drew together. I bring my face down to hers, her breath gliding across my lips, leaving a wake of fire scorching underneath. Wrapping my hand around her neck softly, I pull her closer to me, the need of having her wrapped around me substantial. Just as my lips touch hers, Phoebe comes out of the building.

  “Beast! Who the hell—” She stops abruptly once Meadow and I separate, giving her full view of ‘who the hell’ it is.

  “Oh! Meads! Hey! Shit, I’m sorry. I though he was kissing on someone else.” She cocks her little smirk at me before stepping to us and pulling Meadow into her. “Come on, we need to head inside. Beast, Zane wants you.” Meadow smiles up at me, taking Phoebe’s hand in hers as they both leave me standing there confused and with a fucking hard dick. Great. She can get me rock hard without so much as touching me.

  What in the hell is happening to me? I’ve never wanted to be touched or kissed by any man. What makes Beast so different?

  “Oh em ge!” Phoebe begins as we walk into the bar. “What the heck, Meadow! Do you know what you’re doing? I mean, I love Beast, he’s one of the good ones under all that macho, broken, evil front. He’s a decent person to people he cares about but are you sure… I mean… this is club life I’m talking here,” she whispers as we take a seat at the table with Melissa.

  “Look, you’re getting carried away. Nothing really happened.”

  “Yet, if I hadn’t walked out, it would have?”

  “Would have what?” Melissa whispers loudly beside us, edging closer. Zane is talking in the background about our next plan of action, and in my defense, I’m trying to listen but these two have a lockjaw with gossip. More Melissa than Phoebe, Phoebe is only like this because it’s me.

  “It’s nothing.” I wave Melissa away and she narrows her eyes at Phoebe, kicking her under the table.

  “Ouch. Melissa! I walked in on Beast and Meadow almost kissing. It was hot, I could have…” It was my turn to kick Phoebe under the table.

  Widening my eyes to let her know to be quiet, she yelps out again, “Meadow! Ouch!”

  “Phoebe! Shut up,” Blake growls from the front table. She’s like this untouchable little ray of fucking sunshine.

  “Sorry,” she murmurs, looking to Zane. “Carry on.”

  Shaking his head, Zane carries on his talk.

  Thirty minutes later, Zane has finished his talk and I’m bored. I think I need a drink. I’ve obviously been spending too much time with Phoebe and Melissa, my drinking has increased.

  “Hey, you all right?” Beast asks, pulling a stool up next to me.

  “Yeah,” I smile at him, picking up my drink again.

  Draping his arm around the back of my chair, he pulls me into him. My stomach flips and my palms sweat at the sudden proximity. Everything inside me is hyper aware and driven with need. I have zero control over how much I want this man, and that scares me. Having no experience with men period, but throwing Beast into the mix is frightening. Not because he’s scary, well he is. But I know he would never hurt me physically, but I’m still scared. I don’t know how this all works. I don’t even know how to kiss someone. But with Beast, it seems to come naturally, that’s how much I want it.

  “We have to go and meet with the Russians, hopefully, sort this shit out. I’ll be back later, okay?” His head tilts and I run my eyes over his face. I still can’t get over how stunning he is. My eyes dart to his scar that sits under his ear, without thinking, I bring my fingers up to it and draw them down the angry risen skin.

  “What happened?” I whisper, eyebrows creased before I lock my eyes onto his.

  His jaw ticks as he scans his eyes over my face like he’s trying to memorize every single detail of me. “That’s a long story. I’ll tell you one day.”

  Swallowing down the lump that has formed in my throat, I reach for my glass again. “Every scar has its story.” And he never did see mine. No-one has seen mine. Phoebe knows about them, but she hasn’t seen them. They’re the reason I’ve never been able to wear a bikini even though God knows I want to.

  His lips land lightly on my temple, and I exhale my breath slowly, closing my eyes while clenching my fist around my glass.

  “I gotta go, baby. I won’t be long.” Then he stands and walks out the sliding door.

  “Jesus,” I whisper to myself. I’m not sure what’s happening between him and me, but there’s certainly something going on. I think between it all, I’ve just decided to go with it. Follow my gut and hope I don’t get hurt.

  Pulling down the gravel road that leads to Hecknet Falls in Westbeach Ca
lifornia, our bikes come to a rumbling halt as the line of Russians stand in front of the long black limousine that’s parked on the edge way. With Zane and me in the front and Hella and Ade following close behind, we get off our bikes and remove our helmets. Gripping onto my cut, I lift it to show I’m not carrying—anything they can see—and one of them curls their finger for us to proceed to them. The back door opens and an immaculately suited man steps out, popping his collar with a small smile. He brings his eyes to us, whipping out a cigar from his suit jacket.

  “Well, this is a different turn of events to meet you both under.” He clips his cigar, bringing it to his mouth and rolling it in between his lips.

  “We didn’t know what was happening. We were under the assumption that we were bringing down someone else. We didn’t know the Russians were there, and we sure as fuck had no plans for the Feds. It was supposed to be an ambush, we got set up just as much as you did,” Zane lies, running his hand across his chin.

  Russian looks to me, running his eyes up and down my body. He scoffs. “Apple doesn’t fall far there, son. You Luce’s boy?”

  I nudge my head, shoulders standing strong. “Yeah, why’s that?”

  He shakes his head, taking a puff of his cigar. His long black inky hair slicked back and hanging around his neck. “This true? What he’s saying?”

  I nod my head, keeping my eyes trained on his. “It’s true. We were there under a false premise.”

  “Well…” he begins, looking between Zane and me with a twinkle in his eye, “…you give us safe passage through Nevada and Westbeach for our cargo without any troubles, and we will forget it ever happened.”

  I pause, glancing at Zane. This wasn’t the plan. I don’t want no Russian running around on my turf.

  “Hmm,” I growl and he laughs.

  “So much like your old man.” He shakes his head, bringing the cigar back to his mouth. Something in the way he said that made me shift uncomfortably.

  “What do you know about my old man?” I ask, tilting my head and running my eyes over him.

  He pauses, rolling the cigar around between his fingers. “I know that he wouldn’t give up passage through Nevada for me for all the years he was there, just like you’re not going to give up passage to me. Right?” he asks with a smirk.

  I look to Zane and he nudges his head. “You got Westbeach, but we’re going to need to talk numbers. No-one uses my roads for runs without us getting a cut.”

  He nods his head. “We can talk numbers.” He looks to Ade, who’s standing staunchly behind Zane. “And maybe a fight? For old times’ sake. What’d you say, Ade?”

  “Fuck you,” Ade growls, his lip curling in a snarl. Ade was pushed into the fighting ring at a young age. His father is Kazimir Lyov who isn’t just a part of the Russian mafia, he is the Russian mafia. Ade only just found out years later that his father wasn’t who he said he was. After they had kidnaped Ade’s Old lady and Alaina, some dark shit went on around that time.

  He laughs, clutching his chest. “All right. We’ll talk percentage, Zane.” He brings his eyes back to me and his eyes slant. “I have an idea.”

  “Oh? Do share?”

  He smirks. “My daughter, she’s… what’s the word?... Troubled. You see…” He laughs, walking toward me. My skin prickles to alert and my breathing drops to shallow breaths. “She’s known as Queen A. Do you know her, Beast?”

  Fuck.

  “I don’t know her personally, no. I have heard of her and her MC, though. What is it? Satan’s Vixens MC?” I smile at him and his eyes slant more.

  “Oh, don’t let that name fool you, Beast. Thanks to yours truly, my little Ashley or Queen A has a truckload of daddy issues. Just ask the ghosts of her past. I need someone to keep a close eye on her. Pull her in, maybe get a girl patched in. She’s only a few hours away from you. I won’t ask for passage through Nevada if you do this?”

  I think over his proposition. I have nothing to play with here, he holds the cards. The Russians are not someone you want in bed with you, but then again I’ve heard of these girls and they’re fucking crazy. Harley fucking Quinn crazy.

  “Deal.”

  Jesus Christ, what did I just sign up for?

  He chuckles, walking back to the limo. “I’ll reach out to you when I want this to proceed, Beast. Zane? Give me some numbers by next week.” Then he gets back into his car before they drive off, their tires kicking up dust around us. We follow their tail lights out before Zane turns to me with raised eyebrows. “How have I not heard of these Vixens?”

  “Oh, trust me, you don’t want to.”

  Swallowing the last bit of my drink, I swing around and see Melissa on the stage, dancing around the pole that they have sitting at the front of their catwalk. The bar is nice, everything is nice here. Even the guys in both MC’s are all decent looking. Some better than others. Shaking my head, I scan the room for Phoebe. Melissa has been drinking tonight, obviously and I may need reinforcements. The Weeknd ‘Wicked Games’ is booming through the sound system. Melissa’s little body wrapping around the pole to the slow sensual tune of the song while flicking her long platinum hair around the place. Scanning the room, I see all the men have gone, but a young girl is videoing her. The young girl is a club whore obviously. I always see her around here rubbing up on all the single men. I think her name is Lisa. Pushing back from my chair, I stalk up to the stage.

  “Melissa!” I yell from down below and she turns her head toward me.

  “Come dance, Meadow,” she says smiling at me.

  I shake my head. “Get down, quick. How much did you have to drink?”

  Pulling at her arm, she jumps off the stage quickly and pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I don’t know… was I drinking?” she asks absently.

  “You’re obviously drunk, Melissa. Come on, we’ll get you a glass of water.” She follows behind me as we make our way to the bar. I pull out a stool and push her down onto it.

  Her head tilts to the side. “Meadow…” she begins. “I don’t remember drinking anything but my juice,” she says, looking at me.

  “Are you sure? Where did you get the orange juice from?” I ask, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her.

  “I… um…” her head spins around searching the crowd of people. It’s mainly families and people who are important to others.

  Her body stills, she grips onto her chair and pushes herself up, but falls to the ground when her legs give way.

  “Melissa!” I yell, dropping to the floor. Her body is shaking. “Are you cold? Are you okay? Shit! Where the hell is Phoebe?” Pulling off my cardigan, I throw it over her. Leaving me in my tiny white tank top and tight skinny jeans.

  Pulling her to her feet, I place her back on the stool slowly. Ashley, the Sinful Souls’ barmaid, rushes over worried. She’s beautiful and I’m surprised none of the guys have scared her away yet.

  “Is she okay? What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know. Melissa?”

  Her eyes open slowly. “Meadow, it was Lisha…”

  “Lisa?” I answer.

  Ashley shakes her head. “No, she means Lisha.” Her face drops. She has light brown hair pulled into a high ponytail that trails down her back, sleek and straight. Her green eyes begin scanning the room, and when she locks her eyes on the club whore ‘Lisha,’ her eyes narrow.

  Pointing her tanned arm, she says, “It was Lisha. She has a little thing for Hella since he’s been here.”

  “What the hell did she do to her?” I ask angrily. Melissa is harmless. She would never do anything to hurt anyone intentionally.

  Ashley shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll find out?”

  Pulling her arm back, I point to Melissa. “Watch her, I need to go and find Phoebe.” I walk away from the bar, scanning the room for Phoebe. When my eyes lock on Lisha, I see her bright red lips smirking at Melissa while still videoing her. My fist clenches, knuckles turning snow white from the pressure. I walk toward her and her little posse of sk
anks.

  “Hey!” I say when I reach her. “What did you put in her drink?”

  She laughs, looking at her friends who join her laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, bitch.”

  “Oh really?” I ask.

  She hands her phone to her friend, stepping up in my face. The cheap stench of perfume assaults my senses, causing me to almost vomit in my mouth. “Yes, really. Go back to your slag of a friend. I hear GHB can be bad for you.” She laughs looking at her friends.

  “You’re a piece of shit. Is this over Hella?” I ask, tilting my head to her. I step closer, my face to hers. “You think you have an actual chance with him over Melissa? You’re a whore, nothing more and nothing less.” I step away from her, turning on my feet and making my way to Pheobe, who has finally showed next to Melissa. I exhale, letting my shoulders relax. Ashley is whispering something into Phoebe’s ear when she looks over at Lisha, her eyes narrowing.

  Yeah… it’s on now.

  I smile at Phoebe, and just when I’m about to take another step forward, A sharp yank stings across my scalp from Lisha pulling me by my hair toward her and elbowing me right in my face. Spinning around in her grip, I clench my hand around her neck and pull her down to the floor. Crawling on top of her, I pull my elbow back before slamming my fist square in her face. With a crack sounding and vibrating against my knuckles, she screeches loudly. “My nose!”

  Pulling my elbow back again, blood dripping from my own nose, I blow another punch straight into her nose again, and again. All the anger I had from knowing this girl could have seriously hurt someone that I care deeply about is fully unleashed.

  The grip around my arm and weight being lifted off my knees pulls me back. When I turn around, I see it’s Kalie—Ade, the vice president’s wife.

  “It’s okay, Meadow. She’s not worth it,” she whispers into my ear.