Deadly Seduction (A Rough Riders MC Novel) (The Rough Riders Series)

by Selene Chardou

  Cillian was determined not to make a difference between any of his children and had followed in his aunt and uncle’s footsteps where his own two children were concerned.

  He arrived at the Clubhouse shortly after nine. He’d had to swing back to his place and load his Harley onto the flatbed of his truck before he drove back to Cox Towing and Auto Repair.

  Their legitimate business was towing vehicles, specifically for the local law enforcement. They towed and stowed every car that was taken from a particular driver due to insurance lapses, drunk driving and every other offense where it meant a person had their vehicle impounded. Most were never claimed again but they still kept them for the requisite thirty days before they sold them in bulk up to a car dealership in Portland, Oregon.

  The vehicles were removed from the State because it was important the owners were never able to track their vehicles down. They usually settled with the finance company for pennies on the dollar and they made good money with the arrangement they had with various used car lots in Portland.

  However, it was a needed and necessary front.

  Their real money came from the restoration of antique vehicles and motorcycles. Bookie, Cricket and Kink weren’t members just because they looked hot on a Harley and had tat sleeves; they knew their automotive shit in and out. The same way Loire, his half-sister and the club tat artist, knew how to draw on the canvas of human flesh. She was a natural and had done everyone’s work in the club.

  It didn’t matter she lived in L.A. When Dizzy called her, she ran and her partner, Nil Delvecchio, would pick up the slack while she was off on her tat jobs up here in Northern Nevada.

  Cillian liked to think he was a great mechanic but his true love was car and motorcycle restoration. Every upgrade he had on his Harley had been done by his own hands personally. His bike wasn’t just a machine but a mean bitch who was an extension of him. She’d saved his ass more times than he could count and he took care of her with precision and a fine eye for detail.

  He used the remote he had in the truck to open the heavily armed gates at the Clubhouse and compound.

  They were in the middle of a restoration project and therefore builders came and went. There was a panic room that would be able to withstand a C-4 bomb. Every room, including the main area, game room, chapel, and bedrooms for Club members were being upgraded. The whole place would be completely modernized by the time the restorations were completed.

  All the club members were getting new beds, and completely remodeled bathrooms while their chapel had already been redesigned. The glass was bulletproof and the place could withstand a lot of damage if the assailants got past the brand new fence that had barbed wire on top and could be electrified at the switch of a button.

  Every door into the compound had a different code and codes were changed weekly.

  The place would be a great place for a lockdown when all the work was finished in approximately four months.

  That meant the crew had to work through wintertime but there would be a major bonus if they finished on time.

  Cillian climbed out of his truck and walked toward the front door where he tapped in that week’s four digit code on the keypad but before he could finish, there was a buzz from the inside. A camera was placed in a strategic position above the double front doors and one could be buzzed in if they didn’t know the combo; a definite must for the Saint Slappers, who would never be trusted with the code to their Clubhouse.

  He walked inside and looked around the dim area. The air ventilation worked because the usually hazy Clubhouse smelled of smoke but it wasn’t abrasive and a bluish haze hadn’t been left behind as the sun streaked light through one of the windows and directly onto the bar area.

  A prospect, O’Neal, tended the bar area while he cleaned the area and emptied ashtrays. He was a hard worker, sponsored by Quinn, although everyone called him Cell because he had the fortunate habit of being able to wipe compromised cell phones and replace them with completely clean numbers and histories.

  He was also a former Air Force member who served four duties in Afghanistan before he was honorably discharged after a bullet shattered his shoulder. He’d had it re-broken and a competent Club doctor had operated on him. He would be fine and it was almost a guarantee he would be the next to be patched in when they got past that night and the whole “Riley” situation.

  It was a pity too because his father didn’t want to do much of anything until Riley was taken care of; Cillian understood why but that didn’t make his job any easier.

  “Want a beer?” O’Neal questioned as he pulled up to the bar and took a seat.

  “Nah, a shot of Bushmills should go a long way though.” Cillian lit a Camel and blew smoke from his nostrils in frustration. “The old man around?”

  “In the chapel. He’s speaking informally to all the old school members.”

  Cillian grabbed his Bushmills Irish whiskey, stood and walked toward the oak double doors, which led to chapel. He knocked before his father finally said, “Come on in.”

  He walked inside and found his father, Dizzy, inside with Brendan and Sean. All three of them were the founding members of Lucifer’s Saints and their sons were also members of the club.

  Kink was Sean’s son and Cricket belonged to Brendan. Both their mothers had been Saint Slappers because unlike Dizzy, neither man wanted the stability of an old lady or a family; the Club was their family.

  They’d come over to the States during the whole Northern Irish conflict with the English and really respected the Hell’s Angels and what they’d done for the biker community. It was also the perfect cover for several men who had active IRA records in the UK while they could be protected by powerful Irish relatives here in the States.

  They’d decided to name their MC Lucifer’s Saints because although the work they did was dirty, it was for a greater good.

  The charter club moved from Boston to their current location where they knew there was no major biker presence since the Italian Mafia and Raymond Jackson controlled most of the crime. Granted, Raymond was several years’ younger than his father but he’d already been a young and very determined man who had no choice but to make it.

  The White Knights were the only MC in Northern Nevada at the time and were not respected by anyone who’d counted. They were also a nightmare for local law enforcement until the Demon’s Bastards founded their charter club in Pine Bluff.

  Pine Bluff’s Sheriff, Nathaniel Briggs, was married to Lorna Hughes’ cousin and her husband, Tom “Jonesy” Hughes, was President of the Demon’s Bastards. The Bastards had started off as a family MC that, unofficially, became outlaw due to their various dealings with Raymond Jackson and the Italian Mafia.

  Even though there was a friendly rivalry between the two clubs, there was no pure hatred or animosity. They were both trying to earn; Jonesy liked a sure bet and preferred dealing with the Italians and Jackson. Both shared a certain code of honor and avoided disputes at all costs. They also earned most of their money running women, gaming, and loan sharking along with several huge arms’ deals each year but not enough to bring any real heat to their organizations.

  Dizzy had always been reckless, and a gambling man. He dealt with Aztecas Infierno and the Koslakov Mafia—one of the infamous oligarchy families who ruled Russia with an iron fist and instructed the President of Russia what to do—because they were unpredictable, animalistic and more brutal than his MC was capable of becoming.

  For instance, Dimitri Koslakov and his sister, Zusha Koslakova, were absolutely brutal in the way they dispensed punishment to their enemies and insubordinates. They would have taken great pride in handling Riley. Quinn had, unfortunately, vouched for him instead of allowing the Russians to do a background check, and it fell on the Club to take care of the situation.

  That’s where Cillian came into the picture, and the precise reason why he would be responsible for murdering the traitor in their midst.

  The three men looked at him as he walk
ed inside the room and he met each pair of eyes, from the pale gray-green eyes of Brendan with his typical ginger hair peppered with gray, and mostly gray beard.

  Sean’s bright aquamarine eyes, pale gray-blond hair and tanned, weather-beaten yet handsome face had aged with time but he was still sharp as a tack.

  However it was the crystal blue eyes of his father and his healthy head of brown hair, close-cut brown beard and still sexy good looks who commanded the attention of all in the room.

  Cillian was a carbon copy of his father; there was no mistaking them being father and son. Not to mention he had just as much charisma and a physical presence like his father but he chose to play his talents down. Dizzy didn’t like to share and he had no intention of a fight with his son for attention or authority. It was the reason why Cillian made the perfect VP. He knew his father wasn’t ready to hand over the gavel yet but when he did, it wouldn’t be a moment before he knew his son would be capable of running the Club; that included having a competent old lady because a Club President was only as good as the woman behind him.

  There was no way Cillian would ever have become Club President with Brianna at his side. She wasn’t strong enough and her whorish behavior did not endear herself to her soon-to-be-ex father-in-law. Now that he’d gotten rid of her, he had no idea how long she would be around but it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to divorce her at the moment, not when everything was about to go down. It would be too risky.

  Dizzy smiled at his son before he motioned him to take a seat. “So, you left Brianna and you are ready for tonight, yes?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Cillian raised curious eyebrows in his direction. “Riley has to be eliminated and I said I would do it.”

  Dizzy nodded at Sean, their former Sergeant-at-Arms turned co-Treasurer with Quinn. Cillian’s youngest brother was also the computer expert of the Club; he wasn’t nearly as good as Trey Lennon, the Saints’ computer expert, but he was adequate enough.

  Sean had a wooden box in front of him and he slid the box in Cillian’s direction. He opened up the box and was faced with a silver Desert Eagle nine millimeter with a full clip next to the gun.

  “They are hollow points. Collect the shells when you’re done. This gun is untraceable and it has always been the official gun we have used when taking down Fed agents. Without a weapon then part of their case falls apart. I am the only person who knows where this gun is kept so bring it back when you finish with it. Is that understand?” Sean explained in his rough Irish brogue.

  Cillian smoked his cigarette and turned the gun over and over, admiring the beauty of the piece of weaponry.

  “You like it, dontcha?” Brendan questioned, stating the obvious.

  “It’s a beautiful piece. Weaponry like this…you don’t see it very often.”

  “Well, you’ll be seeing more of them.” Dizzy glared at his son before he glanced at his two oldest friends. “I spoke to Raymond Jackson and he has a connection…Israeli…they have a whole case. The guy is a former Mossad agent and won’t tell Raymond how he acquired them. They were originally supposed to be delivered to some despot in the Middle East but he got an attack of conscience and sold them to Mr. Jackson.”

  Cillian’s father searched his eyes. “I suppose you and Gisela are on speaking terms again? She called me this morning and informed me she would be taking the case when we could get her more information about the issue. She also said she could draw up the legal separation paperwork for you and Brianna but the divorce would have to wait until this legal situation is taken care of.”

  The last bit of news caused Cillian’s heart to drop straight into his stomach. “Why do I have to stay married to that slapper, Da?” His veins bulged against his neck as he stood and his fists hit the table harder than he meant.

  Dizzy smirked while his blue eyes twinkled coolly. “You daft fooker—pull your head out of that French perfumed smelling pussy for a moment—a wife can’t testify against her husband. I think Gisela was thinking of this while all you’re doing is thinkin’ with your pecker.”

  He looked away from his father as he sat back down with a look of contrition. “Sorry, Da. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I know what came over you…a certain sexy piece of arse you’ve been slobbering over since you two were fifteen. You’ve got my blessin’, son. If we can arrange something with her father and get this whole Misty-Drake shit taken care of then you can be with her…after you take care of the elephant in the room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, now let’s get back down to business. And then after we finish here, you go on over to see Gisela so you can sign the paperwork so her paralegal can send it to the courthouse before the end of the day. In the meantime, Sean, why don’t you go over logistics?”

  Cillian listened although part of him zoned their voices out.

  If he couldn’t leave Brianna in the near future, what the hell did that mean for his relationship with Gisella?

  Chapter Six

  Gisela

  “What are you doing?”

  I looked up from the legal separation I’d drafted that morning and checked that all my “I’s” were dotted and my “T’s” crossed. I didn’t need to hear from Dizzy any time in the future.

  “Well, I ordered some Japanese takeout and I have too much work to actually take a physical lunch. What’s up?”

  Kyra sat on my desk and tapped her expensive Montblanc pen on the shiny oak surface. “Leo’s outside in the reception area. He’s insisting he be allowed to speak to you.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly.

  After the night before with Cillian, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man. He was the only subject on my mind.

  It hadn’t been easy to call up Desmond Cox and basically admit that we’d slept together. Nor had it been easy to let him know that he had a daughter-in-law that he would have to keep for a while longer. The decision definitely put a monkey wrench in any plans I had to get with him. I couldn’t exactly justify sleeping with a married man, even if I had been doing it for years with Leo.

  The man waiting out in the lobby for me who I definitely not want to see. Not at that moment when I’d slept with another man the night before. I was also conspiring to help him in a plan that could ultimately cause me to lose my license to practice law in Nevada or any other state in the union.

  Cillian had told me about a crime he planned to commit beforehand and that made me an accomplice to his crime. However, it wasn’t like neither Kyra nor I had bent the law to our advantage before, even if what I was doing went well beyond merely bending the law.

  “Earth to Gisela—did you hear a word I said? Leo is in the lobby, and we both know how he feels about waiting.” My business partner’s blue eyes glared at me as she crossed her arms against her chest and tapped her foot insistently.

  “Tell him he can keep waiting too. I have absolutely no intention of stopping my whole day just so he can be catered to. Sorry, not gonna happen.”

  The door to my office burst open and a pissed off, blue-eyed, crimson-face Leonardo Abandonato stared me down. “Hey, babe, what the hell am I doing waiting in the lobby?”

  I looked up from my work to briefly acknowledge his presence before I looked at my Apple MacBook Pro again. “What do you want, Leo? You didn’t make an appointment and I’m booked all day.”

  “So, it’s like that now? Baby, you’re on retainer—”

  “Yeah? And my other clients are too. What’s your point exactly?”

  Leo stepped forward toward me before he shot a withering look in Kyra’s direction. She glared at him with bright blue eyes before she glanced at me. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. In the meantime, I’ll leave your door open just in case there is any trouble.”

  I waited until she walked out before I gave him all my attention. “What’s the issue now, Leo? Marital problems or trouble with the law?”

  “The former, not the latter. However, that is neither here nor
there. How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while and I miss us fuckin’, and I miss you…a lot.”

  I was a terrible human being.

  Part of my attraction to Leo stemmed from his Northern European features he inherited from his Swedish-Finnish American mother. He possessed chestnut hair with burnished gold highlights, a pale olive complexion, angular features and the clearest blue-gray eyes. He was also taller than his father at six foot exactly and had a lean, toned shape that suited his trademark Armani suits and Prada loafers perfectly.

  He reminded me enough of Cillian to keep the pain at bay but had enough of his own abrasive personality, he was definitely his own person.

  My shoulders slumped in defeat and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Listen, I know I am about to do something completely and totally crappy but I can’t continue our arrangement. It has nothing to do with your wife and everything to do with me.” I paused before I concluded with, “I’m sorry.”