by A. C. Bextor
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © A.C. Bextor 2018
Title: Angels and Demons
Title ID: 8263649
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Playlist
Synopsis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Other Books
For Tara
Mario. Washers. Slots. Sun.
We do what we want.
Dana Hook – Names, places, and whatever other writer’s prompts I need you think of on a second’s notice. The dark, tasteless jokes in between never hurt the creativity either.
Joanne Thompson – The keeper of all my characters, time lines, and events. Thank you for sorting my shit.
Tara Slone – You wanted him. You claimed him. There, see? I don’t keep them all.
Kori Toth Gray – “I think E just might just be the bomb.” I listened and delayed plans for Gypsy and Leglas. Now I have two super pissed, badass bikers waiting for me to tell their stories. Thank you.
Cover Art: © 2018 - LJ ANDERSON - MAYHEM COVER CREATIONS
Editing: Karen Hrdlicka – Barren Acres Editing
Proofreader: Joanne Thompson
Formatting: Stacey Blake – Champagne Book Design
The Promise
Chris Cornell
If Only
James Arthur
Let Me Go
Prime Circle
Living for a Song
Jamey Johnson
Hunger
Ross Copperman
Be Still
The Fray
Saint’s Justice Motorcycle Club is in chaos.
Handling a crew of restless men while running low on cash, James “Elevent” Scott has but little choice left.
He’s forced to make a deal with the devil.
When Elevent accepts the Russian’s offer to protect one of their own; he has no idea what’s to come.
And he’s never been taken so off guard.
He was paid to protect her.
Mia Zanders leads a modest and content life. Church secretary by day, sweetheart to the boy-next-door by night, her monotonous existence may be boring, but it’s safe.
However, fate has a way of shaking up everything she thought she knew.
Mia soon finds herself inside a rough-and-tumble biker club. The men are vile. The women are catty.
Yet, somehow the crew of bold and plenty help her to see what she never could before. The person she was meant to become.
They weren’t supposed to find each other.
Then tragedy strikes.
Hearts are broken; lives are forever changed.
Mia and Elevent must decide if a godsent circumstance brought them together only to tear them apart.
Or if Lucifer’s had a hand in delivering their cruel twist of fate.
“I still don’t understand any of this,” I bicker, holding my cell phone to my ear and taking inventory of my apartment. An apartment filled with four men packing my belongings into suitcases and boxes. I do not want to leave.
When my sister called fifteen minutes ago, explaining my life was about to be coarsely interrupted, I thought she was kidding. Honest to God, I wanted to laugh.
I would’ve, except Myra doesn’t joke about anything. Ever.
She went on to explain that her husband-to-be father’s business had taken a turn, and that it was ‘imperative’ my bags were packed, so I was ready for his men when they got here to ‘sort me out.’
When I mentioned he should call the police and file a report against whomever it is that’s causing his troubles, I thought my big sister was going to burst into a fit of tears. And just like she doesn’t make jokes, Myra also doesn’t cry.
Instead of denying her, I’ve been left in a furious daze. For Myra, I agreed to answer the door when someone knocked a mere five minutes into our call.
“Mia, please don’t argue this,” Myra exasperates. “I’ll explain more when I can. Right now, I need you to trust me.”
Trust her.
Ignoring my silence, and what it may mean, Myra charges, “You’ll be safe where they’re taking you. And that’s all that matters, for now.”
“Bikers, Myra,” I remind. “These men Vlad is sending me off to are bikers.”
“I know and I wish things were different, but they aren’t.”
“Where will you go? Can’t I just go there?”
Myra hesitates, probably wishing I wouldn’t wait for her answer. But I do, so she gives, “Veni and I are taking a time-out in New York.”
“New York?” I admonish.
This is fitting. I get to sit inside a room at a local motorcycle club and my sister is taking a lovers’ vacation.
“You’re pissed,” she notes.
“Livid,” I return.
As she did when we were kids, not long after our parents’ passing, Myra assumes the role of mother. “I’m doing this for your own good. This isn’t forever. You’ll see. And Vlad said I can come see you anytime.”
Ha!
Vlad is the Russian menace responsible for my life’s spiral off course. A man who hardly speaks, and when he does, it’s only to bark an order. A giant ogre, who upon walking into a room, you unfortunately happen to be in, can make you wish the floor would swallow you whole. Then again, even in the face of Vlad, the floor may stop to ask permission to do so.
Unfortunately, my sister forgets that I know Vlad Z
alesky. With this, I also know his reputation. He’s the head of the Russian mob. I’ve only met him once. Anytime I’ve ever been to the Zalesky mansion to visit my sister, he’s made himself scarce.
Months ago, he and his wife, Klara, hosted Myra and his son, Veni’s, engagement party. The man hardly said two words to me. Which was fine. Any attempt he made to get to know me would’ve been too much.
He says Myra can come see me? I’m so sure.
“I don’t like being forced to leave my life behind because you’ve decided to marry Veniamin Zalesky,” I complain. “It’s not fair I’m being brought into this by association.”
Veniamin is Vlad’s prized son. A year ago, he asked Myra to marry him. She was ecstatic. I was terrified. The more questions I asked about Veni and his position in the family, the less nervous I became.
Veni isn’t part of Vlad’s more dangerous and unlawful activities. He graduated from the state university, with honors, and currently works the books of their more honest businesses. As far as anyone knows, Veni is clean. Most importantly, he loves my sister.
“I won’t give up my home,” I push.
“Mia,” she coaxes. “Your loft is hardly a home.”
Ignoring her misguided insult, I bring, “And what about my job? I’m supposed to up and leave it all behind without notice?”
Though to outsiders, my job may not seem like much. But to those I support at my church, my position is indispensable. I’m the secretary. I welcome new members, schedule appointments, and organize church functions. The pay is next to nothing, but with the inheritance Myra and I received first from our parents, then grandparents, I don’t need a higher-paying job. Not yet anyway.
“No one is asking you to give up anything forever,” she assures. “Just for a while.”
I make a noise resembling a snort.
Myra sighs heavily. She’s disappointed in my not wanting to trust her.
“Is this about Toby?” Myra probes quietly.
Toby Meyer is only man I’ve ever known, in the sense of the word man. I met him a few years ago. We ran into one another—literally—at a quiet coffee shop downtown. I asked him for his dry cleaner’s information and he asked me out.
Looking back, I was infatuated with Toby from the start.
He’s tall, lean, blond-haired, blue-eyed, quiet, and also very sweet. He used to surprise me with flowers, candy, dinner reservations, and the like. He’d hold my hand, kiss my cheek, and never pushed for more. Toby was always patient and extremely kind.
We officially started dating a year ago. When things finally started to move faster, I slowed it down, but not before we’d had sex.
No other words describe our first time, or any of our times together for that matter, other than to say we just had sex. I didn’t feel anything for Toby after. I didn’t sense passion toward him and I never ignited under his touch. Which altogether was sad, because I really thought maybe…
“You don’t love him,” Myra takes in my silence for what it is—doubt. “Do you?”
She can’t see it, but I shake my head with the phone to my ear and give, “No. I don’t think I do.”
Along with being jousted from my home and job, I’ve been instructed to end my not-so-passionate relationship with Toby. He’s my next call; a call I probably won’t mind making, in comparison to taking this one.
“Then why are you so upset?” she asks, aiming to be gentle. “This can’t be because you’re quitting your job or leaving an apartment or ending a relationship you weren’t really vested in.”
My sister, who lives in a beautiful palace, surrounded by armed guards, who would no doubt bleed to protect her—and sleeps next a man who cares enough to give her both—just summed up my life in a series of words I can only describe as ridiculous and boring.
I’m happy Myra has a place in this world and she’s found it so early.
But I don’t, and the idea I may never hurts more than I expected.
“I’m not sad. I’m just…” Hell, I don’t know. I’m hurt. I’m frustrated. I’m alone.
“Well,” she goes on. “I can promise you that Vlad has a handle on this. His business will be dealt with, and when it is, you can go back to everything you know.”
After summing up my simple life as she did, I’m not sure I care to go back.
“Vlad is a businessman,” she tells me. “And in that, you know what I’m saying.”
I do. Vlad Zalesky is a known criminal and reading through what Myra told me, he has other mobs, both Sicilian and Irish, threatening to overtake his.
“Continue,” I goad anyway, happy to hear more. “I’m listening.”
“Obviously you’re aware his business can be dangerous. Today we found out it can be very dangerous. He has a contact at Saint’s Justice. They’ve agreed that until the threat is taken down, you’ll be safe there.”
“Myra,” I clip. “You say I’ll be safe there, but really, how many bikers do you know?”
“Gram would want me to take care of you,” she returns a vicious blow on a whisper.
Hearing her point, I slam my eyes shut. Gram has only been gone a year, and since she passed, I’ve felt entirely alone. Myra has Veni, but she is all I really have.
In an effort to alleviate the wound she opened, Myra tells me, “Wren says Elevent is the shit.”
Wren being Wren Dawson, Vlad’s niece; also a woman about my age, who I’ve come to consider a friend. I’ve gotten to know her as well as Myra. We’ve hung out on several occasions. Granted, we’re not tight like sisters, but hearing she knows anything about where I’m going, and I don’t, I’m tempted to call her for details.
If only I had time.
“Who’s Elevent?”
“He’s the contact who agreed to take you in.”
My eyes roll. “All hail, Elevent, I guess.”
“Mia,” she warns.
“I still think Vlad could get the police involved. If what you’re saying is true, shouldn’t he be here taking care of it?”
“He’ll be back eventually. But like Veni, he’s taking Klara and his daughter, Emilia, away from here.”
At least I’m not the only person in this mess being completely misplaced, I guess.
Adding to her point, she suggests, “You could think of this as an adventure.”
Flopping back on my unmade bed, I sigh and talk to the ceiling, “Great. Yes. Let’s look at this as an adventure. The story of a girl whose only sister is shoving her off to live inside a dirty motorcycle club.”
“There you go,” she blindly cheers. “I need to go. Have they packed you yet?”
Turning my head on my pillow, I aim my eyes to the door. Abram stands in his suit and tie, hands in his pockets, smiling.
“I think they’re ready to go.”
“Good,” she relieves. “I love you and I promise I’ll be in touch soon.”
Sure she will. From New York.
“I love you too. Enjoy the Big Apple.”
“You enjoy Elevent.”
My eyes narrow at her comment and Abram’s widen in surprise. I don’t reply, I hang up the phone, sit up in bed, and ask myself, “How did I end up here?”
“This arrangement is temporary,” I reiterate, again. “Vlad’s enemies have been movin’ in on his territory for some time now. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated their determination.”
When Vlad Zalesky called this morning, I’d been surprised. When he went on to say he was taking his wife, Klara, and his young daughter, Emilia, to a safe house three hours from here, I was shocked.
Vlad is a powerhouse in size. He’s tall and broad, appearing more of an enforcer than criminal mastermind. Don’t be fooled. Vlad Zalesky is also incredibly intelligent. A dangerous combination when important business is being proposed.
Zalesky isn’t a man you want to fuck with.
More importantly, he’s not a man you’d ever want to fuck over.
So despite my disbelief in hearing some fool tested the limit
of Vlad’s patience and was doing this against his family, I paid attention to the deal he was proposing.
If this deal is done effectively, Saint’s stands to receive a gratuitous reward.
“Are you really ordering us to babysit some rich bitch we know nothin’ about?” Leglas sneers, sitting at my left as he always does during club meetings.
Being that he’s the vice president, he’s right where he should be. However, during this particular gathering, he’s acting more like a spoiled man-child. His complete disregard for what I’ve put on the table is about to piss me off.
“What happened to all of us get a vote in club matters?” he rages on.
Once a week, or whenever there’s an immediate issue to be addressed, the officers of this club take a meeting in this room. There are no windows, and it only holds a rundown table and seven wooden chairs. The walls are lined with framed members’ photos—past and present.
Putting the head brothers, all with varying personalities, in one room together can be tense. Today, tempers have been tested.
Before bringing the men in, I’d already made the decision to take on Mia Zanders. So, this discussion didn’t go as it normally would. We’re not meeting to vote. I’m meeting to inform. And as I had already figured, Leglas disagrees.
Fact is, Saint’s needs the Russian family as an ally, a strong and powerful one at that. The Zalesky army adds numbers. His inventory will add weapons and ammo we can’t find on the street; should there ever be a need. Which, I’ll say, I hope there never is.
The caveat to this is that Vlad will owe us not only money, but also a service. He’ll be in our debt, whether he chooses to acknowledge this or not.
With any luck, Vlad will put a death stop to his enemies, no more innocent people will be stalked and put to death, so then Mia Zanders can be on her way. Worst-case scenario is that she’ll be on our hands for a while.