The chrome of his bike gleams in the sun as he pulls into my driveway. My bike sits ready, the small bags attached to the side already loaded down with my weapons and a few changes of clothes. I'll buy anything I need beyond this in Vegas after making sure the club takes me in.
Damon climbs off his bike, and the dude is even bigger than I remember. I'm a big guy, and we used to be about the same size, but he looks like he's put on about fifty pounds of muscle. When I called him a couple of days ago, he wasn't exactly happy about doing me this favor, but when you owe a guy a life debt like he does me, you're going to step up and do whatever they ask. I'm happy as fuck that Damon's an honorable guy because if I had to blackmail him into this shit, it would be a whole lot less pleasant.
He looks past me to my house and then back in my direction. He doesn't exactly smile, but he has this approving look in his eye like he's happy I've done well for myself. "I never pictured you as the type to settle in Cali," he notes, and I can't help the big-ass grin at that. He's from Texas and went right back after he got out. I wanted a fresh start and took a chance, ending up here.
I've never regretted it once.
"Yeah, I wouldn't say I picked it. More like it picked me, but now it's home." I shrug and ask him if he wants a tour of the house, and he accepts, walking the stiffness out as we spend a little time catching up.
"We better get on the road if we want to get there before the sun sets. Here," he says after about an hour. I follow him out to his bike where he starts digging into the saddlebag and eventually pulls out a leather vest. "This is your cut. You wear it at all times. It has your club name and identifies you as a member. They'll kill me if they find out I gave this to you," he adds at the end, and I know that's not him talking shit. They really will kill him because this piece of leather is sacred to the assholes who make up the gang. It's what ties them together, and a stranger wearing one is a betrayal of the highest order.
Somehow that makes it even better, and as I slip it on and feel the weight of it against my back, something settles inside me, knowing I'll be looking the vile assholes that make up the Reign of Chaos right in their eye while spitting on everything important to them. I look down at the name patch sewn into his leather and then back up at Damon—Sin.
Shit, I really need to get used to calling him by his club name. That thought made me wonder what my own club name is, and I look down at the patch stitched into the left side of the cut I was wearing.
Shadow.
I give Sin a questioning look, and he chuckles. "Picked it myself. You like?"
"I guess. I don't really get it."
He shoots me a you know better look before explaining. "When we were on the battlefield together, you moved like a damn shadow. No one ever saw you coming, and you'd come out of nowhere and rain down death and destruction on our enemies. It fits you." He shrugs one massive shoulder like his description of me is something he hears every day, and with the kind of company he keeps, it might be.
"Fair enough. Ready to roll out?" I ask, swinging my leg over the seat of my black 2006 Harley Dyna Street Bob. I picked her up before I ever knew anything about the ROC, and it's working out now that I'm a natural at riding her.
He gives me a nod but walks over before he gets back on his bike. "I'm the Enforcer for my club, so that'll lend a fuck ton of weight to your presence. I doubt they'll question you, but if they do, you let me do the talking and go along with whatever I say. I'll stick around for a day or two to make sure nothing goes wrong, and then I'm getting the hell out of there and going home."
He watches me like he expects me to argue with him or some shit, but I'm not going to. I understand the huge risk he's taking for me, and I know he wouldn't even consider it for anyone but me. "I appreciate how big of a deal this is for you, and I won't do anything to mess up your position if I can help it."
It's the most reassurance I can give him right now, seeing as how my whole plan is to go in there and tear down the club from the inside out. At this point, I don't know if I'm going to stop at the Las Vegas chapter or attempt to ruin the entire organization, so his desire to distance himself from me is understandable. I won't decide on a course of action until I'm inside and settled in a bit. When I can sit back and observe, see how things run and how much of the shady shit they're doing is kept hidden away, and how much they do out in the open, I'll have a better idea of what it's going to take to make this happen.
For Moon, but more importantly, for everyone hurt every day by the men who operate with a level of depravity that makes even my cynical mind cringe, I'm going to put a stop to it no matter what it takes.
As we ride out of my driveway and I follow Sin onto the highway that'll take us into the den of vipers, my body thrums with electricity. I always do my best work when I have a mission to focus on, and this next one might be my biggest yet.
Dust covers me from head to toe, and there's dirt between my teeth if the crunching when I bite down is any indication, but we made it onto the Reign of Chaos' property right as the sun was sinking below the horizon.
My ass is numb as I step off the bike for the first time in hours, and I'm in desperate need of a shower, but it's going to have to wait while Sin makes the introductions and arranges a couple of rooms for us. My only interaction with motorcycle clubs up to this point was when the ROC took Moon, and we negotiated to get her back.
So, when Sin told me we'd be bunking on club property, I was a bit surprised they'd have extra room for when members decide to drop in unannounced. Apparently, that's just the way shit works in this kind of organization.
I realize I have a lot to learn, and I need to do it fast if I'm going to fit in and not raise suspicions.
It takes less than ten seconds for a couple of older guys to saunter out to meet us, looking like they don't have a care in the world, but I know better. They both have a hardened glint in their eye that says they've seen some shit, and I'm not about to be fooled by their casual demeanor. I've learned to look closer than the facade someone projects, down to the look in their eyes and the way they hold their shoulders.
I make a mental note to keep a close eye on these guys, maybe closer than the rest. Time will tell. Damon—Sin—handles the greetings and introductions, and I let him with zero protest. This is his world, and I'm just stepping into it temporarily. He's sticking his neck out for me in a massive way, and I don't want to do anything to paint even more of a target on his back than I already am.
After Sin tells our welcoming party who we are, the tension in their bodies drops a fraction. They seem much more inviting, introducing themselves and motioning for us to follow them inside to what looks to be the main clubhouse area.
Several buildings are scattered throughout the property, which is just a random scrap of land a couple of miles from the main highway right in the middle of the desert. As far as I can tell, it's about half an hour outside of Vegas. At the back side are red boulders that crop up here and there at random. It's really not much to look at scenery-wise. The beach is much more my scene than this place, but I'm not here for the scenery.
Refocusing on the buildings, I try to get my bearings. I notice three main structures, all of which look like they've been baking in the sun for the better part of three decades—at least. One stands a solid three stories tall with huge rolling doors, and I can immediately tell it's a garage. It would make sense being this out of the way that the club would work on their bikes on-site, and I file it away in my mental catalog to check out later.
The other two buildings look like they're attached by a sort of hallway that's outdoors but covered by the same roofing as the buildings themselves, probably to shield from the sun as people walk between them. One is obviously the main clubhouse. It's the biggest, with wide-open front doors and classic rock music drifting outside. And why wouldn't their doors be wide open? Out here, they could see an attack coming from a mile away since there was no natural cover whatsoever.
Another thing for me to keep
in mind. It's good to know the advantages and disadvantages of a place when you might need to make a quick getaway.
The third building, I imagine, is where the people who live on the compound sleep. It sort of looked like an old apartment building, but it wasn't very big or tall. Three stories—roughly the same size as the garage, but obviously residential. Outside of that, the place is barren.
"You coming or what?" one of the three guys who greeted us asks me in a gruff tone. He's still eyeing me like he thinks I came here to steal his lunch money or some shit, but I ignore his underlying hostility. The last thing I need is to make enemies on my very first day.
Somehow I don't think that's the best way to get deeper inside and collect the information I need.
"Only if the beer's cold and the girls are hot," I quip, hating myself a little bit for stooping to their level. I figure, later on, I'll take a scalding shower and scrub a couple of layers of my skin off to try and forget everything I have to say to try to fit in with this group of degenerates. I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to make this happen, though, even if it means getting down into the dirt to roll around with the pigs.
He slings his meaty arm over my shoulders like we're old friends, and I tense up to try not to pull away or flinch. The guy—Poison, based on the surreptitious glance at his nametag I manage to sneak—pulls me close to his body and a strong smell of alcohol wafts off him. Instead of shucking him off, I let him bring me into the clubhouse, where the air's cooler but also thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sex.
I don't understand why anyone would want to voluntarily hang out at a place like this, let alone be proud of it like the smiles on the faces of the welcoming committee seem to say they are. Sin looks over at me and raises his eyebrow like he can't believe I'm letting this asshole manhandle me the way I am, but it's all part of the plan. He comes to my rescue anyway, tugging me free of my captor's hold. "We're going to find our rooms. We'll meet you at the bar later for a beer?" It's technically a question, but the way he says it doesn't leave any room for argument, so the guys back off, and we go the other way.
When we're out of earshot, I ask, "Have you been here before? You seem to know your way around."
He grunts as he pushes open the door leading to that weird covered hallway. "Once, back when Devil was alive. Can't say I enjoyed the visit."
We walk in silence after that, climbing three flights of stairs to get to the building's top level. There's a hallway with doors running down either side, and every door looks the same except for the identifying number that distinguishes one room from the next.
"This is you," Sin says, stopping in front of the door with the number 305 on it. I open it up and push inside, ignoring the stale smell and hot, dry air. When I get inside, the first thing I do is turn on the air conditioner, and when the door clicks shut behind me, I turn around to find Sin standing inside.
"Look, I didn't want to risk anyone hearing me say this, but you need to be careful of those three, Brutal, Bomber, and Poison, plus Vandal. They were Devil's officers, and last time I was here, the five of them were the ones who got the club into every bit of shit they're involved in. They don't just do the things they do for money; they do them because they like it. They like hurting people and the power they feel like that gives them. They're also crafty as hell from what I've seen, so watch your six."
Sin's warning doesn't feel like anything I didn't already recognize the minute I saw those guys, but I appreciate him looking out for me all the same and tell him as much.
I didn't bother bringing any of my shit from the bike up here, so I'll grab it later. Since there's nothing to unpack, I figure it's a good time to get a feel for the rest of the people who call this place home or who spend a lot of time here. "You need a minute before we hit up the bar?" I ask Sin, who shakes his head.
"Nah. I didn't bring a lot of shit with me. We can go down now." He passes me the keycard to unlock my door, and I'm surprised by how modern their locking system is. My instincts to have Sebastian on standby for this case might have been spot on, depending on what else I find. I expected a place like this out in the middle of nowhere with a guy like Devil running it for the last twenty or so years to have minimal security at best, but I always like to be prepared either way.
I lock up, and we head back downstairs. I'm more than happy to give the AC the opportunity to cool that damn oven of a room down while I dive into figuring out who's who around here. It's the whole reason why I came, and I don't enjoy spending time in places like this if I don't have to. The faster I can get in, figure out the best way to ruin the club, make it happen, and get out, the better.
No attachments, no distractions. In and out.
The thought scatters the second we step into the dimly lit bar, and I lock eyes with the girl behind the bar. She's gorgeous in that painful way that makes your stomach clench up and your heart stutter in your chest just from looking at her. She blinks a few times, tucking a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and giving me a slow smile that shows off the dimple in her left cheek before someone pulls her attention away from me.
I want to find out who it was and strangle them with my bare hands for daring to distract her away from me. All at once, I realize what a psychopath that makes me sound like, but it's true. I can't help that my first instinct is to pull the gun out of the back of my jeans and blow the head off the guy sitting at the bar she's smiling at now.
Fuck, I've never felt anything like my attraction to this girl, and I have to ignore it. This is my one chance to take the Reign of Chaos down, and I've been waiting for the opportunity for two fucking years. It might never come around again, so it doesn't matter that her eyes are the exact shade of green as the ocean water outside my house right after the sun rises, or that what I can see of her body behind the bar already has my dick at half-mast.
There is no goddamn way I can let myself get distracted by a pretty face.
That doesn't stop me from sidling up to the bar with Sin on my heels and sliding onto a barstool. So what if I might hear her name or the sound of her voice? I need to get a beer to look like I fit in with the crowd, right?
Sin takes the stool next to me, and we wait for her to come over. I pretend I'm not listening in on her conversation with the guy at the end of the bar, but it's loud in here, and I can only pick up snippets. Her voice has almost a whispery seductive quality to it that I can tell isn't manufactured, and that seems to sink into me and wrap right around my fucking heart, which is beating at double its normal pace.
When she turns around, I'm too busy staring at the perfect curve of her ass to notice the guy she'd been talking to lean over to try and grab a handful, at least until she whips around and grabs his hand, twisting his wrist in a motion so fast, it's like she's done it a thousand times before. She doesn't even look put out, really, like this is an everyday occurrence for her. I'm hit with the nearly irresistible urge to kill every motherfucker in this place all over again.
Lock the doors and fucking burn this hellhole right to the ground.
I take a deep breath, sucking tobacco-tainted air deep into my lungs to try and get ahold of myself. I'm not the guy who goes off half-cocked and makes rash decisions. I figure out what's going on, and I methodically carry out whatever justice needs to be meted out. There's a fine line to walk between being a good guy and a bad guy, and I exist in a lot of grey.
The one thing that I'll never compromise is making sure no one innocent gets caught in the crossfire. As I tear my eyes off the girl that may become the object of my obsession, if I'm not careful, and look around the room at all the club girls and wives interspersed with the brothers, I can't be sure burning the whole place down wouldn't kill people who didn't deserve it right along with the ones who do.
"Sorry about that," the girl behind the bar apologizes, and my head whips around at the sound of her sultry voice. She gives me the same smile, the one with the dimple, and now that she's standing closer, I can see the
smattering of freckles across her nose. They remind me of constellations in the night sky, and I swear if she let me, I could sit here all night and get lost in them.
"What can I get you boys?" she drawls, and I blink in the most unsmooth way imaginable while I try and remember what I'm supposed to say instead of staring at her like a lunatic.
"Do you have any Monkish IPAs?" I finally manage and then cringe inside at the incredulous look she gives me.
Sin's shoulders are shaking as he laughs his ass off at me before he leans closer, murmuring under his breath, "What the fuck do you think this is, some hipster pub? Jesus fucking Christ."
"Sure, how about a twenty-five-dollar plate of nachos while I'm fetching that for you?" the beauty behind the bar snarks. She's got amusement in her eyes, and despite feeling like an idiot, I'm also sitting a little taller because her attention's all on me. I don't really give a shit that she might think I'm some stuck-up prick because I kinda am. Maybe I used to be into watered-down cheap beer, but I'm not twenty years old in the barracks anymore, and I prefer my beer micro-brewed.
"If it's not too much trouble," I say back as sweetly as possible with a grin to match to let her know I don't take myself too seriously. She chuckles a little before grabbing a couple of bottles of something much less interesting, popping the caps off of them, and pushing them across the bar to Sin and me.
As I take a sip of the lukewarm beer, I never stop watching her, so I notice it right away when her gaze dips to the left side of my cut before shifting back up. "Shadow, huh? I've never seen you here before."
"He patched in in San Antonio, but he's thinking about making a move," Sin fills in automatically with our cover story.
"Yeah, what he said," I say, taking another sip of my beer. "And now that you know my name, maybe you'll give me yours."
Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1) Page 3