by Vivian Arend
I’d been wrong about The Devil card. He didn’t leer like Big Papa.
He leered like Peyton.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I returned to the bar, picked up the wash rag, and dunked it in water. My motions were mechanical as I cleaned the surface of the bar. Little circles. I could see my reflection in the soap.
The woman on the bar looked like she was in shock.
Warm hands settled on my shoulders. My heart was too broken to be in the mood for sex, but my body had its own agenda. Chills washed down my back. I leaned unconsciously into Cooper’s touch, letting my head fall back on his shoulder, molding my ass against his jeans.
“That bastard is responsible for those scars,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“All my scars,” I said softly.
“You said he was in jail.”
“Peyton sold me to the john that gave me the scars. That guy is in jail. Peyton has never seen a police station that he couldn’t bribe his way out of.”
Cooper’s fingertips played over the ridged skin on my neck. The gesture didn’t feel intrusive, coming from him. It felt affectionate. “I’ll kill him.”
I knew a promise when I heard one.
Turning in his arms, I let Cooper pull me to his chest, warm and safe with the beat of his heart against my cheek.
“He smelled like wealth,” he said. “Like the drugs that rich boys snort and alcohol mixed with gold flakes.”
“He is wealthy.” My voice caught in my throat. Peyton was frighteningly rich. Rich enough to fuck up anyone who pissed him off with a quick phone call to his bodyguards kind of rich.
“I’m not surprised you used to be in that. You look like someone used to a better life.”
What could have been better than Lobo Norte? Steady work, people who watched my back, no laws, and no fucks given. But Cooper’s words made me think of home. Los Angeles. A place where I hadn’t been rich, but had been used by the rich. It was where my real family lived, though. Two big brothers, the grandparents who raised us, an extended family that could populate a small town.
I guess I had been wealthy in my own way.
“I can’t give you that,” Cooper said, sinking into a chair and pulling me so that I stood in front of him.
“Huh?”
“A mansion. Luxury. I’m not rich, and I can’t give you any of that. Maybe before, when I had a job, but now…” He lifted a fistful of my braids to his nose and inhaled, eyes closing slightly as though I was a drug. “You deserve it all.”
The fact that it had even occurred to him made me laugh. As if I could possibly care about how wealthy Peyton was. As if it would be better to be kept as a whore in a gilded mansion than be with someone who wanted me for who I was, not for how much he could get for my body.
I settled on top of him, straddling his hips in much the same way I sat on the recipient of a lap dance. “Cooper…” I trailed my fingernails through his hair, down to the back of his neck. “I saw what it takes to be rich. I saw what those people do. They think they’re free to fuck around because they’re wealthy, but money is just another kind of cage. I’d rather be free. Really free.”
His hands skimmed up my hips, thumbs settling underneath my shirt, on the bare skin just over my waistband. “I want you to be free, too.”
My mouth dropped to his. We kissed, gentle and soft. I licked the salt off his lips.
More and more, I didn’t just want to be free—I wanted to be free with Cooper. But we both had chains of our own. I couldn’t go back to Los Angeles to see my family as long as the Silver Needles were there. I wasn’t even sure I should cross the border into America. I didn’t know how far the incubus mafia’s reach extended.
Cooper’s chains were even stronger than mine. He was bound to the phases of the moon and the werewolf pack. His gang. Those ties were tighter than blood and silver and steel.
Neither of us could ever be free. Not really.
Our kiss deepened, and his hand slid up to brush over the underside of my breast. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He teased at my nipple with his fingertips. I sighed against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue in deeper, flicking it against my teeth, the roof of my mouth.
My hand snaked between us, moving for the buckle of his belt. Cooper caught my wrist.
“What?” I asked.
“You’ve got to finish cleaning up the bar.”
I couldn’t have cared less about that at the moment. I had Cooper where I wanted him, Peyton was in town, and the Needles would be on his heels. The bikers could just party on sticky floors with dirty glasses for all I cared. I needed this. I needed him.
Reaching for him again, Cooper caught both of my hands and trapped them behind my back. “You’re a fucking tease,” I said.
“Waiting will make it better. Trust me.”
“That something you learned in anthropology?”
He responded by kissing me again. Harder. And then he broke away, moved me gently off of his lap, and picked up the mop.
I was smiling. It was a goofy expression, not at all the sultry look I gave the clients. But Cooper wasn’t a client. He also wasn’t just some biker. He had seen my scars, seen the man who had given them to me, and he had become something much more important than that.
Even if he was a tease.
The nights went by quickly with Cooper helping me run the bar. Everything was better with him. Cleaning in the mornings, cooking tacos for lunch, sifting through the insane mail that showed up in my mailbox every couple of days, serving drinks and stripping at night. He didn’t ask me more about Peyton and I didn’t offer. It was easy being with him. It was good.
He didn’t even look twice at the Coyote Ranch girls when they started joining us to entertain the bikers at night. It was like I was the only woman in Lobo Norte. Nobody had made me feel like that before.
I couldn’t forget about Peyton and the Silver Needles. I couldn’t forget that my quiet life was at risk of imploding.
But Cooper almost made it so that I didn’t care.
And then on Friday afternoon, when I was preparing to open, Big Papa strolled into the bar. It was the first time I’d seen him since the night of the failed cage match, and the sight made my stomach fill with butterflies on speed.
I’d been afraid of him the first time I saw him, but now that I knew who he was—and what he was—my fear only mounted. He was no longer just another anonymous biker rolling through Lobo Norte. He was a werewolf. The biggest and meanest in his gang. Mean enough to take Cooper down without even needing to catch his breath.
There was no way I could hide the smell of my fear, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t put on a good show.
“I’m not open yet.” I sounded so much braver than I felt. In truth, embarrasment was curdling my intestines, as if Pops had caught me casting magic or my brothers had spotted the hater marks on my cleavage. I didn’t want Big Papa to know about Cooper and me. It felt dangerous.
The werewolf’s eyes flicked between the two of us. Cooper was behind the bar rearranging bottles. “You’re not opening tonight,” Big Papa said. “I’m having a meeting here.”
The back of my neck prickled. “No, I don’t think—”
“Ofelia,” Cooper interrupted.
I gaped at him. He was siding with Big Papa? He was just going to let him take over my bar?
Big Papa pulled out a wad of cash. Slapped it on the table. “This’ll cover drinks and your service tonight.” His eyes raked down my body. “You’re not wearing that. Put on something like you wear when you’re dancing.” The way he spoke left no room for argument. There was no doubt in Big Papa’s mind that I’d obey.
My tongue felt heavy and thick in my mouth. Somehow, I managed to ask, “Who are you meeting?”
“Go get dressed,” he said. He didn’t need to answer me. Peyton had gotten a hold of Big Papa, and Big Papa had agreed to meeting with him.
The Silver Needles were coming to my bar, and the werewo
lf wanted me to serve them.
Numbly, I set down my rag and headed into the back room to change, my pulse roaring in my ears like the scream of a desert tempest through the canyons.
I didn’t even hear Cooper follow me. When he grabbed my arm and spun me to face him, my heart skipped. “You’re not going to serve them, Ofelia. I’ll take care of the bar. I’ll serve the drinks.” I opened my mouth, but he spoke right over me. “If you’re worried about the tips, don’t be. You can still have them.”
It wasn’t about the money.
These were the men that had bought me from Peyton, tortured me, and ruined my life. They were the reason that I couldn’t return to Los Angeles and had to save up to make a new life somewhere else. Somewhere safer, where incubi didn’t live.
They had already fucked me up in so many ways. I wasn’t going to let them ruin Lobo Norte for me, too. “No. I’ll work the bar.”
Cooper shook his head. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
“If you know what’s good for you, just listen to me,” he said, searching my face with his eyes. “Go back to your trailer. Hide inside your magic. And don’t let anyone in.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t suggesting that I hide. He was demanding it.
I lifted my chin, staring him down. “This is my bar, Cooper. I’m not going anywhere. If you want to make a big deal out of it in front of everyone, then fine—they’ll just figure out who I am that much faster.”
Heat flashed through his eyes. “They know you?”
I hadn’t meant to say that. I’d told him that Peyton had sold me, but not who had done the purchasing. He hadn’t known that the incubi might have a grudge aginst me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
But now that he’d realized something was going on, he wasn’t going to relent. He grabbed me. Tossed me over his shoulder. The world flipped upside down as my head dangled down his back. I cried out in protest, but he just locked his arm over my thighs and hauled me out of the bar. The back door slammed shut behind us. The sunlight scorched the back of my legs.
“Cooper! You can’t do this!”
“Watch me,” he grunted.
He kicked in the front door of my trailer. The wards allowed him to enter, since he was touching me. Guess I needed to do something about that.
Cooper tossed me onto my bed. I actually bounced. Before I could get up, he pressed his hands into my wrists, pinning me to the mattress. His hips were heavy against mine. “In about two weeks, the Fangs are going to leave Lobo Norte with a handful of new members,” Cooper said, glaring down at me intently. I’d let myself forget that he didn’t live in town like I did. The reminder that he was going to leave stung. “Two weeks, Ofelia. You’ve just got to have the sense to hide out for that long. But if you don’t have the sense, I’ll have it for you. You’re staying here.”
“I can deal with rough customers.” I was breathing hard now, and it wasn’t because I’d been fighting against him. His smell was overwhelming in the nearness of my bedroom. His sweat and my incense mingled to form a head-spinning perfume. “I did it before you came around, and I’ll be doing it after you leave.” It hurt to even say that.
“You don’t deal with customers like my gang. And not like the Needles.” Cooper dropped down to give me a short kiss. I strained up against him.
But then he stood and left, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I shook as I got dressed. It was hard to put on my string bikini when my fingers trembled so hard, but I did. And then I put a short latex skirt over the bottoms, jammed my feet into knee-high platform boots, and stuck a kitchen knife down the calf.
Cooper thought I didn’t have sense. He was wrong. I had sense all right. I had a sense that I was going to stab the fuck out of the assholes that had followed me to Lobo Norte. I’d wait until they were drunk, and then I’d finish them off. Forget the truce—I’d risk everything to get rid of these assholes. Even my life.
I’d never killed a man before. I’d definitely never killed an incubus. But I’d seen people die, and I’d done cadaver autopsies in school, so I knew where everything important was located. I was pretty sure I could hit a heart if I was aiming for it.
On impulse, I grabbed The Devil. His leer made my trembling slow.
“I’m going to kill you tonight,” I told him. I half-expected the card to set my hands on fire, but nothing happened.
Shoving it in the waistband of my denim skirt, I pulled my braids back with a headband, put a sexy gold cuff on my bicep, and headed out to serve drinks.
The rear door of the bar stood open to let air circulate. Night had fallen, but heat clung to the desert, and there were no swamp coolers without a working generator. I stood in the doorway for a minute, letting the noises wash over me. The knives in my boots felt heavy and cold.
The cross-draft carried voices to me, along with the clinking of glasses. Big Papa was already entertaining. “Nice to see you out here,” he was saying. His rumbling voice was distinctive.
“You wouldn’t meet us anywhere else. We didn’t have a choice.” I was guessing that was one of the Silver Needles.
“I’ve got better shit to do than heel when a demon snaps his fingers.”
“We don’t want you to heel. We want a partnership.”
“I don’t talk business without drinks,” Big Papa said. “Tequila?”
That was my cue.
But now that I was there, outside my bar, the idea of trying to infiltrate had me frozen. It was one thing to think I’ll kill all those assholes when I was alone in my trailer. In practice, it was something else entirely.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and headed inside, careful not to make noise as I slipped behind the bar.
There were eight men sitting at three tables in my bar. Six of them were Fang Brothers, including Cooper and Mad Dog. One of the others was the pale-skinned man that had blown the generator. The other was new—not Peyton, thankfully. Judging by his narrow shoulders, black eyes, and sleek black hair, he was probably an incubus.
I grabbed fresh glasses, took a bottle of tequila off the shelf, found a tray. I poured shots.
“You heard me,” Big Papa said. “Drinks. Now.” He wasn’t speaking to me.
Cooper got up to fetch the tequila. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me. I could tell he was thinking of throwing me over his shoulder and hauling me out of the bar again, but if he did, they would wonder why. They would ask questions. I’d be no safer.
Fury flashed through his eyes. I didn’t react. I walked right past him like I didn’t know him, as if he didn’t make my blood burn and my body thirst. As if he really were a stranger.
I kept my eyes lowered as I stopped beside the table, tray resting on my shoulder. The men ignored me. I set the drinks down.
“We’ll give you lethe,” said the new incubus, grabbing a shotglass. I watched his long, slender fingers in the corner of my eye and wondered if they would match the handprints burned into Kelsie’s breasts. “We’ve got two crates just outside town for starters. More in Los Angeles, once you get there.”
They wanted the Fang Brothers in LA? A shot glass slipped out of my fingers and spilled across the table.
Big Papa growled at me, jerking back in his seat.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, turning to grab a rag.
Cooper already had one. He wiped up the table, his gaze hot on my face as he struggled not to speak.
“An entire crate of lethe cubes every month,” the incubus said. He still hadn’t even bothered to look at me. I was invisible, just background dressing in a bikini. “And then ten thousand dollars a week.”
“For what?” Big Papa asked.
“Finish the cage fights. But don’t pick the two or three strongest to join the pack. Pick the top ten, maybe twenty bikers, and change them.”
I walked away with my tray, going back to the bar. The back of my scarred neck pr
ickled. It was hard acting normal, pretending that I wasn’t in the room with one of the demons responsible for destroying my life.
“That’s a lot of werewolves,” Mad Dog muttered.
“We want a lot of werewolves,” the other incubus said, the one who had threatened Gloria. “You heal all damage that isn’t inflicted with silver in minutes, even as humans. Right? That makes you a practically unlimited food source for the Silver Needles. That’s all we want out of your guys—fucking for food. Not so bad a fate, right?”
Big Papa grunted. “It’d make y’all invulnerable.”
An invulnerable incubus mafia in my home city, where my family lived.
“We brought some people with us that want to be changed,” the incubus went on, oblivious to my shaking hands and pounding heart behind the bar. “Men and women who are already down with the plan.”
“Your plan isn’t good enough,” Big Papa said.
“Is it the offer? Name your price.”
“A hundred thousand a month. Unlimited lethe, delivered wherever I want. Me and my boys, my gang, we’re not going to be trapped in Los Angeles while you try to fuck all the new wolves to death.”
“Done,” the incubus said.
“Fine.” Big Papa slammed his fist on the table. “More drinks.”
I hurried to obey.
The incubus said, “But there’s one other thing that we need. There’s a woman somewhere in Lobo Norte. You might have seen her. She used to belong to the Silver Needles, and we want her back.”
They wanted me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.
But they hadn’t realized who I was yet. Maybe they hadn’t seen any pictures of me, or maybe they just hadn’t looked all that close at the stripper serving them drinks. At least, not at my face.
I couldn’t let them see my panic. I kept my features smooth as I set fresh drinks on the table. It forced me to get close to the demons, brushing my bare skin against their leather jackets.
The smell of the incubus’s cologne was familiar. It brought me back to my darkest memory at a beach house in Los Angeles, to that week when I had been at the mercy of the mafia’s favorite torture method. They had used an entire bowl of silver needles on me. A few hundred of them. They’d shoved all of them through me one at a time until I felt like I was on fire.