MALICE (A HOUNDS OF HELL MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  Still, I wondered… if Lucy was part of whatever the hell Delfino’s plan was… how much did she know? Had any of it been her idea? I didn’t want to believe it was possible, but then again, I didn’t want to believe I was so stupid as to get distracted by what was now so obviously a lure.

  How had I missed the signs? The glaring red flags? Delfino left us alone every goddamn day in that house, essentially daring us to fuck, but instead of stopping to think how strange that was I’d just thrown myself at the opportunity to get my dick wet. Delfino wasn’t stupid, but somehow I’d believed I was getting one over on him—that I had actually outsmarted him—and that had made me cocky. Lazy. Stupid.

  Maybe even dead.

  I closed my eyes, trying to make the world stop spinning, gripping the metal rack hard to tether myself as the foundation of what I’d believed was going on here slipped through my fingers like a sandcastle caught in the tide. I’d been so damn blind, so willfully ignorant in the name of bliss, so desperate to have that one light in my life back that I’d thrown in my lot with a lie. What would it cost me? Is this where death was gonna find me—some cookie-cutter town not even big enough to warrant a spot on a map? Was this how Leo Richards would go out, not with a bang, but with a goddamn pitiful whimper?

  I wanted to slap myself. How had I let this happen? How had I believed that I could really hold on to any shred of happiness? Hadn’t I learned? After all this time—a shitty childhood that culminated in growing up way too damn fast; memories better expressed as scars instead of photographs; enough red in my ledger it was a small wonder churches didn’t burst into flames when I passed ‘em by—hadn’t I figured out that happiness was for other people?

  When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was Lucy. The way she was looking at me… All the anger fled my body at once, leaving my chest sunken, my shoulders slumped. She took the fire right out of me, this girl. Stole the breath right from my lungs with just a look.

  Part of me hated that she had that kind of power over me. But an even bigger part of me kind of loved it, too.

  “Leo, you have to believe me,” she said, tears starting to glimmer in her eyes, “I didn’t know anything about Delfino getting rid of your bike, and I don’t know anything about anything else he has planned. Jesus, do you really think I’d be okay with him killing you? You think I’d just…” Her voice cracked, and her face twisted in pain. “You think I’d want you dead, after waiting so damn long for you to come back and find me again?”

  “No,” I said, and mostly, I meant it. Maybe I’d had a moment of weakness, a flash of anger and mistrust dredged up from the still-open wounds of my past, but ultimately I knew in my gut Lucy had nothing to do with Delfino’s schemes. She might have been part of them, sure—but she’d been an unwilling, and unwitting, participant. “No, I don’t think that, Lulu. It’s just… everything else I’ve thought so far has been wrong. We’re in deep shit here. Clearly. I think we may even be in over our depth.”

  “So what, we just… lay down and die?” Lucy asked as I moved past her toward the scrapheap that was once my bike. A pang of regret, of despair, rippled through my chest like the striking of a gong. I’d loved that goddamn bike and everything it represented. Loved what it gave me—the big things a man needed in life, like freedom and independence, the ability to wander and roam and escape—while asking so little of me in return. All I had to do was keep it safe, keep it tuned, keep it up and running. All I had to do was put in a little bit of work, some elbow grease…

  Just one more failure to add to my collection, I guessed, staring at what felt like the wreckage of my very soul. Delfino had decimated it, and if I didn’t think of a way to head him off at the pass, he would sure as hell do the same to the rest of me.

  “I’m not a ‘lay down and die’ kinda guy, Lulu,” I said, forcing myself to step away from the ruins of my bike. “No matter what Delfino’s taken from me, or what he still might… I’m not going down in anything less than a blaze of glory.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension headache brewing at the base of my skull. “I just need to know what Delfino’s master plan here is. Why the hell has he got such a hard-on for me? What’s he got to gain by disappearing me? For once, we need to get ahead of him, or it’s game over.” If it’s not already, I added, but only in my head. I looked at her. “You said you broke into his study?”

  Lucy nodded. “That’s right. But he doesn’t keep a lot of sensitive information in there. At least, not when it comes to business.” The emphasis she put on the word made me think she was talking about a little more than just accounting. “That stuff he keeps at his church offices. I don’t think he wanted to run the risk of me getting anywhere near it. Delfino’s kind of paranoid that way. He’s so worried about being blackmailed.”

  “This guy’s worst fear is someone getting the upper hand on him, huh?” I snorted. “Figures.” Guys like Delfino were always terrified of being taken down a peg. They had to assert their dominance at every available opportunity, always had to be the smartest guys in the room, and they damn sure needed everyone else around them to know it. Dear old Dad had been just like this asshole in that way, priding himself on how oh-so-clever he was, just dying for an excuse to lord even the smallest victory over the rest of us peons.

  But you know what they say… pride goeth before a fall. And nothing felled a guy like that harder than exposing him to the harsh light of day. That was their Achilles heel, their glass jaw—having their bluster stripped away and revealing who they really were for the whole world to see. In the end, they were nothing but bullies, just insecure little brats living in the bodies of full-grown adults.

  “There’s gotta be records of the con-job he’s running here over in that church,” I muttered, stretching out my side. It hurt like a bitch, but there was no way I was gonna let Lucy know that—she’d want me to go home, rest, and live to fight another day. But now I knew there very well might not be another day. If we were gonna get the hell out of Dodge, and if I was gonna avoid an untimely death, we were gonna have to do something now.

  Lucy’s gaze slipped to my ribs. There was a suspicious glint in her eyes, but when she spoke, it wasn’t about my injuries. “With how many cookie jars Delfino has his hand in, I’d say you’re right. The people he’s paid off. The things he’s run through here. I imagine the mafia would want records of that to make sure he wasn’t skimming.” That glint turned almost murderous. “I kinda hope he is.”

  “Even if he’s not, it’s our opportunity to hold him at gunpoint, for once. All we gotta do is find the specifics on what he’s been up to and what he’s planning, then shove it in his face and threaten to call the Feds. When it comes down to it, if Delfino thinks his reputation is at stake, he’s gonna fold like a cheap lawn chair. I’m sure of it.” I held out my hand to Lucy. “So, what do you say, Lulu? You up for some more breaking and entering?”

  She offered me the shade of a half-smile. I could tell she was worried. No matter how solid of a front I put up, she knew this was bad. Real bad. And she knew that this was one hell of a Hail Mary, one that could easily bite us both in the ass.

  And yet she put her hand in mine anyway, and she lifted her chin defiantly when she said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Maybe Lucy was about as sheltered as they come, and maybe she knew next to nothing about biker culture, but somehow, she still managed to be the most ride-or-die chick I’d ever met. I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t deserve her.

  But at the same time, holding hands with the girl who’d committed a crime with nothing but a pair of bobby pins and some fast talk, the same girl who filled my stomach and heart every chance she got, who’d haunted my dreams damn near every night since I’d met her… I also couldn’t help but feel like we were made for each other.

  Eighteen

  Lucy

  We weren’t stupid enough to try to break into the church in the middle of the afternoon. We knew we’d have to wait until a mor
e opportune time, namely nightfall. This created the problem of having to sneak out and hope Delfino didn’t wake up and come check on me in the middle of the night, so we were going to have to work fast. Get in and get out was the name of the game.

  A short rest and good meal did wonders for Leo’s ribs, which was exactly the kind of luck we needed, since we were going to have to walk into town again. Stealing Delfino’s car was right out. Sure, I knew where his keys were, and even if I didn’t, Leo assured me he could hot-wire the thing, but that wasn’t the point. That engine was loud, and if Delfino didn’t notice the sound, someone else sure would. We didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves, which meant going on foot was the only viable option.

  It was almost three a.m. before any of our plans could come to fruition. The good news was that the streets were deserted. There was no one, and I mean absolutely no one, around to see us skulking close to the tree line, giving ourselves plenty of places to duck down and hide should one of the patrol cars come cruising by. The shadows were going to be our only friends tonight. Other than that, it was me and Leo against the world.

  “We make a good team, you know that?” he said as we carefully descended the slope leading to the brook beneath the covered bridge. Going across the bridge itself was too risky—we’d be too obvious, too exposed, with nowhere to hide if things went bad—so we’d planned on crossing the water below, coming up the other side, and then following the trees again. Once we got to the business and residential area nearest the church, things would get a little trickier, but if we avoided the main roads I was pretty confident we could avoid detection.

  I picked my way down the embankment toward the rocky shore and gasped when my shoes didn’t find immediate purchase. I started to slide and Leo grabbed my arm, spinning me up against his chest. I looked up into his face.

  Breathlessly, I asked him, “How do you figure?”

  He smirked, reached up, and tucked an unruly strand of hair back behind my ear. “ ‘Cause we’ve got it all, babe. I’ve got the brawn.” He booped my nose. “And you’ve got the brains.”

  I wrinkled my nose and pulled away, steadying myself on the bank of the brook nearest the water. The dirt here was soaked through, depressing beneath my weight, leaving behind perfect imprints of my shoes. I scuffed my feet to cover them. “You’re awfully cheery for a thief in the night. Especially one who’s about to get wet.”

  Leo shook his head. “Can’t let that happen, or our shoes are gonna squeak all the way to the church and back.”

  I wasn’t about to spend my night trying to find the narrowest point, or a configuration of stones suitable for us to use as a crossing. Back when I’d believed going to nursing school was still a possibility, I’d done a lot of reading on the subject, which included advice on how best to obtain a diagnosis on a patient if they were unconscious, or unwilling to give up the relevant information. There was a theory called Occam’s Razor, which boiled down to this: the simplest solution is usually the correct one. In this case, Leo and I had two problems: getting our shoes and socks wet was going to make us squeak, which wasn’t conducive to committing a B&E, and we didn’t have time to figure out another point to cross at—not to mention the backtracking we’d have to do afterward.

  I bent down and started rolling up my pants legs.

  “What are you doing?” Leo asked, brow creasing in confusion. “I told you, if we get wet, it’s gonna be a problem.”

  I started unlacing my sneakers next. “Not if we take off our shoes.”

  I heard him open his mouth to object. And then I heard nothing at all. A moment later, he stepped up beside me and carefully stooped to follow my lead. He smiled to hide a grimace of pain, one inspired by the act of condensing his ribcage like that.

  “Told you. You’re the brains.”

  I got my shoes and socks off, stuffed the former into the latter, and then slapped Leo’s hands away from his jeans. I rolled them up to his knees for him, then helped him with his shoes.

  “If you don’t start paying more attention to your limitations,” I said, “you’re going to end up even more injured than you were to begin with.”

  He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind, Nurse Ratched,” but fell silent under my withering glare. Normally I found Leo’s devil-may-care attitude soothing, charming even, but tonight it grated on my already frayed nerves. There was too much at stake for either of us to get cocky. Cocky led to lazy, and lazy led to mistakes, and mistakes led to getting caught.

  And in this case, getting caught would lead to winding up dead.

  We crossed through the shallow part of the brook in our bare feet, holding onto our socks and shoes until we made it to the other side. The water was absolutely freezing and I regretted my plan immediately, even in lieu of having no viable alternative. Every sweep of the current against my ankles and toes was like being bombarded with a thousand knives, each one cutting me right down to the bone.

  I was numb and shivering by the time we made it to the other side. Wet dirt clung to the bottoms of my feet, but that at least was easy enough to brush away. The cold stayed, even after I’d slipped my socks and shoes back on. Leo rubbed my arms to try to warm me, but the chill persisted.

  “Let’s get moving again,” I said, even though the last thing my body wanted was to put its frozen appendages to the test. “Maybe the increase in circulation will help.”

  “You’re the boss,” Leo said. It felt good to have someone trust my judgment.

  We followed the tree line until it thinned and gave way to the residential zone, along with a labyrinth of back roads that fed into the street the church was located on. There was no real need for a neighborhood watch in a town like Pleasant Lakes; Leo and I were able to move relatively freely here, but we kept to the fences anyway. No need get sloppy this close to the finish line.

  “What if someone’s dog starts barking?” I wondered aloud, momentarily giving in to the anxiety making my hands tremble in the pockets of my coat. “Then what do we do?”

  “Keep walking,” Leo replied, “and hope we find a good hiding place before someone comes out.”

  I knew it wasn’t likely that we’d have to worry about anything like that happening, but living with Delfino all these years had me paranoid. He was so damn meticulous, so hyperaware of everything that went on around him that it had rubbed off a little on me, too. Hopefully it would help us not to get caught, though right now, I was so worked up that I felt like even a slight change in breeze might send me running for cover.

  The steady decline in the surety of Leo’s gait didn’t do much to soothe me, either. I could tell he was in pain, no matter how hard he tried not to let on. He may have bounced back quickly earlier in the day, but this was twice now we’d tested the limitations of his injuries. Then again, if we didn’t find a way to get the hell out of town, the state of Leo’s ribs would be the least of our problems.

  Finally, we could see the church in the near distance. We were standing on the corner at the mouth of the neighborhood we’d just slipped through, looking up at the behemoth looming before us. It was an old, Colonial-style structure with a massive white steeple that disappeared into the dark, low-hanging clouds veiling the stars. A single shaft of moonlight filtered through, highlighting the stained glass window that faced the street. The scene it depicted was Jesus hanging on the cross, a Roman soldier jamming a spear into his side. It always struck me as morbid… and almost like a warning. Who it was meant for, I could only guess. But every time I glanced at it, I couldn’t help but feel like it was intended to be threatening.

  “Guess that’s a sign,” Leo said, nudging me gently with his shoulder. “Approval from the heavens themselves.”

  But I couldn’t take my eyes off of Jesus’ agonized face. “Could be an omen, too. How’s that song go? Don’t go around tonight… well, it’s bound to take your life… there’s a bad moon on the rise…”

  “Creedence Clearwater Revival.” Leo smiled at me. “
A girl after my own heart.”

  I shook my head. His irrepressible optimism didn’t sit well with me. It reminded me of a phenomenon I’d read about in terminal patients called “the surge.” Hours, or sometimes days before death, a period of marked physiological improvement might ensue, affording the patient a few moments of happiness—or in the crueler cases, a few moments of hope. Ultimately, it would turn out to be just another cog in the machine that we call the process of dying. One not necessarily well-understood, but well-documented regardless.

  As I looked up at Leo, I wondered if something similar was happening to him. Had the news of his impending death made him reckless? Had he come to a certain peace with it, preferring to die on his terms rather than Delfino’s? Was he regarding this entire excursion as some kind of suicide mission?

  No. Screw that. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. He’d promised to save me, and I was going to hold him to it. Even if that meant I had to save him.

  “Let’s go,” I said, tugging his arm for him to follow me across the street. “The sooner we get what we came here for, the sooner we can get out of here and get on with our lives.” I wanted to remind him that there was a future for us, if he was willing to believe in it. I wanted him to focus on what would happen if we succeeded, instead of preparing for us to fail.

  We hurried across the road and around the side of the church, gunning for the private entrance the staff used. It led directly to the private offices where I knew Delfino kept the information he didn’t want to risk me stumbling across at home. This was it: the last hurdle between me, Leo, and sweet freedom.

  I had waited for this for so long, built up the idea of liberation in my head until it was more myth than possibility. Now that I found myself standing at the threshold of it, I hardly knew what to do with myself. So much of my time in captivity had been spent telling myself it wasn’t going to happen, that emancipation just wasn’t in the cards for me, and now that it was… it was like standing on the edge of Niagara Falls, looking down the rapids as they dissolved into mist, and trying to fathom the great unknown that lay beyond it. And then, on top of everything else, trying to convince myself to jump.