Link: SATAN’S SINNERS’ MC: TWO

by Akeroyd, Serena

  They owned a good twenty acres of land, a big plot of that dedicated to a golf course, naturally. There were all kinds of other amenities here, most of those I knew because I’d worked here as a snot-nosed kid, bussing tables to get some money together for my first bike.

  I hated this place, hated everything it stood for. On the outside, it was beautiful, luxurious. Elite. But it was rotten at its core. Founded on lies and deceit.

  Just because something looked pretty on the outside didn’t mean it wasn’t fugly on the inside, and these places were all like that. Cesspits of cunts like the Lancaster dick.

  But, because I knew the layout, I knew which places to avoid.

  It was why I pulled up about forty feet away from the club, begrudgingly tucked my cut into my saddlebags, and made my way on foot. Hated doing without my cut, but in these parts, it would only bring attention to me. That was the last thing I needed inside this place.

  There was the front entrance which was patrolled by security, then there was a staff entrance that, though also manned, was easier to sneak through thanks to Fat Tony who’d been on guard here for twenty years and who, I felt sure, had spent at least fourteen years of those two decades sleeping on the job. Slipping past him was a piece of cake, and the second I was through, I eyed the ass of the building.

  It wasn’t as fine as the front, but it was bustling with staff. Some carrying dishes, others with laundry. Some with cleaning equipment, others hauling their bags on the way home after a shift.

  I slipped in among them, enjoying the commotion as I made my way over the tiled patio toward an area I knew was the kitchen. When I was in there, I ducked into one of the side rooms that was used for storage, then I grabbed my cell from my pocket and tapped out, I’m at the club. Where do we meet?

  Her: The tennis courts. You know where they are?

  I didn’t bother answering. The fact that she wanted to meet here was making me suspicious anyway. What kind of brother would be able to access this place? It was dumb fucking luck that I was the one who’d approached her last night, and it was more of the same that I knew my way around here.

  This had the makings of a trap written all over it, but I knew some of the managers here so, if I got caught, I figured I could talk my way out of it. They’d been bussing tables and doing all the shitty jobs at the same time as I had, but when I’d cut and run the second I could start prospecting for the MC, they’d made a career out of wiping rich men’s asses.

  Not fun.

  Nope.

  Even for me. Who loved a nice ass.

  My lips quirked at the thought, but now I knew my destination, so I strolled out, keeping to the staff halls which were a boring mixture of dark brown lino and smudged paint where laundry and cleaning carts had scraped against the gray walls.

  Knowing the way to the front of the grounds was only accessible by crossing through the club itself, I peered out one of the service doors, saw the coast was clear in one of the themed TV rooms—this one was for the rich fuckers who liked to lose their money on horse racing—a fact I picked up on thanks to the ten TVs that displayed horse races from around the world, and walls that were loaded down with photos of horses with rosettes on their glossy necks and beaming, tiny pricks who’d rode them hard to win.

  Though it was empty, and I was tempted to take a splash of their fine whisky and down it, I decided against it. I was already pushing my luck and, any moment, security could spot me. I’d probably end up in jail for the night if I was caught, but since the info Lancaster’s sister had given us had proved useful, I was eager to know why she wanted to meet again.

  She’d had to spike her guards’ drinks just to talk to a brother, so that told me there were eyes on her too. And I wasn’t just talking about the pricks who couldn’t handle mixing their drinks.

  Darting outside, I headed for the tennis courts. They were clearly visible in the near distance, and the sound of a ball being volleyed and a machine popping out balls so some spineless rich prick could practice their backhand would have given me another clue if I’d gone blind in the past few minutes.

  I was, however, grateful for the club’s design. The building was on a higher level than the grounds, which meant the veranda I walked out onto gave me a good grip of the layout ahead. It made spotting the woman who was sitting on a bench by the courts easy.

  Now that I was out here, and aware I wasn’t exactly dressed for the part even if I had taken off my cut, I stuck to the hedges that bisected every activity in the grounds. From the pool to the courts to the bowling green, all of it was surrounded by a natural fence.

  Using them to my advantage, I moved fast and slipped onto the bench at the woman’s side, jolting her because her focus had been on her phone.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and I had to admit, bleak sun or the mood lighting in the bar, she was hot. I didn’t want to say that, not when I knew what stock she’d come from, but sweet Jesus, she was a beautiful bitch.

  Long, golden hair that curled around her throat and big, blue eyes that were shielded by the thickest fucking lashes I’d ever seen on a woman. None of those spidery things that looked like beetles had been glued on, but thick lashes she used to hide behind—I could see why. Those blue eyes of hers were expressive. The color shifted with the light, morphing from navy to royal blue into a cerulean. I had to wonder if each color corresponded to an emotion, but I wasn’t here for girl talk, was I?

  She had lips that were made for sucking cock, and her tits? I wanted to groan as I peered down the white blouse she wore before taking in her pencil skirt that showed off every curve she possessed. Though she was hot as fuck, or hot enough to fuck depending on your inclination, she was dressed for a business meeting.

  Far as I knew, most of the women who used Crosskeys weren’t here on business. They were either topping up their tan or trying to stay thin so they could catch a rich husband or keep a rich husband entertained.

  A quick glance at her left hand told me she wasn’t engaged or married, but when I lingered on the watch lining her wrist, I had to whistle. Unable to stop myself, I grabbed her hand, tugged out her arm, then twisted it slightly so I could look at the piece.

  “Unusual choice for a woman,” I commented, not really looking at her, mostly just taking in the watch. “George Daniels Co-Axial Chronograph.” I let the grumpy sun flash over the face, which was a marvel. Cream inlay with Roman numerals all around the rim, it had gold hour, minute, and second hands, and had two smaller dials at the bottom with a half-moon dial at the top. It was history in the flesh, fabricated by a revolutionary in the field. “Beautiful.”

  I finally looked at her and saw she was amused. That had me scowling.

  “You know your watches,” was all she said.

  “I do.”

  “My grandfather gave it to me.” Her lips twisted into a smirk. “Luke was pissed. He wanted it.”

  I’d just bet he had. She had over six hundred thousand sitting on her wrist, and her granddaddy had overlooked her brother to give a girl a dude’s watch.

  Her amusement faded as she stared at the watch which took up most of her wrist. “He wanted everything. That was his trouble.”

  “And because he’s a Lancaster, he could afford to have most of everything anyway.”

  “Exactly.” Her smile was tight. “What’s your name?”

  “Didn’t you see it on my cut last night?”

  “I was too nervous,” she admitted. “Scared too.”

  “Why? Think we’d bite?” I bared my teeth at her, but the move had her frowning.

  “Of course not. But things are finally on the right path. I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

  Coming from a woman as sleek as this one, the curse word had me arching a brow. I slouched back against the fancy bench that was made of filigree wrought iron which would probably imprint itself into my ass, and after kicking out my legs, crossing them at the ankle, and slipping my arm along the back of the bench, I muttered, “Name’s Lin
k.”

  She dipped her chin. “I’m Lily. Lily Lancaster.”

  “Your parents were fond of alliteration, weren’t they?” When surprise lit her eyes, smugness hit me again. “I went to school too.”

  “Sorry.” She blew out a breath. “Of course, you know what alliteration is.”

  I did. Not because of school, though, that had been BS. Alex Trebeck had been one of the best teachers under my roof. Learned a lot of shit from him. Some of it random, some of it useful.

  Shrugging, I asked, “You bring me here for a reason? Or just to show off that watch of yours?”

  “Hardly,” Lily replied dryly, then she pursed her lips and stared down at her shoes. The other night, before she’d been able to utter a word, she’d had a mini panic attack. I was used to dealing with them, and in fact, preferred to handle that than her staring at her shiny heels.

  “I ain’t got all day. The guards will notice me eventually—”

  She winced. “I’m sorry I requested for you to meet me here. I’m on a tight leash. All my movements are monitored, but I wanted to talk to you.”

  “We got the women—”

  Lily released a shaky breath. “Thank God.” Her hands moved to cover her face, but she wiped her eyes before rubbing her temples.

  “One died.”

  Pain flashed across her features before she dipped her chin. “That’s because it took me far too long to figure out how to talk to you.”

  I didn’t trust the bitch, but she’d gone out of her way to help. I had to figure that deserved something. “You did what you could.”

  “Wasn’t enough, was it?” she snapped, surprising me when her eyes flashed with anger. Which, coincidentally, made them deepen into a dark navy.

  “If it’s any consolation, she’d been dead a while.” The coffin flies had been in full force and because I watched too much TV, I knew that meant she’d been dead for a week at least.

  Then there were the rats…

  Fuck, that was probably what was going to mess with my mind for-goddamn-ever.

  Sucking in a sharp breath as the memory swamped me, I focused on the pristine lawns to my side, looked at the orderly tennis courts that belonged at Wimbledon, and the hedges around me that had probably been cut with a pair of fucking scissors.

  It was hard to think that this had been Luke Lancaster’s stomping grounds. Harder still to correlate this with that shack in the woods.

  “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Lily whispered. Her profile was drawn, her features pale as she stared blankly ahead.

  Her statement, however, drew my attention. “You wanted to kill him?” I kept my tone conversational in the vain hope that would make her talk.

  “Of course. He was evil. Just like my father.”

  Unable to stop myself, I reached forward and tapped her chin. When she turned to look at me, I reached up and gently touched her beneath her cheekbone, running the tip of my finger along the sharp jut.

  “He do that to you?”

  “Luke?” She shook her head. “That was Father.” Her mouth tightened.

  “You want him dead too?” I joked, then out of nowhere, my cock hardened when rage had color flushing her cheeks. It wasn’t aimed at me, but at her father, and she silently gave me her answer.

  For a second, she breathed hard, like she was trying to get a handle on her emotions. I had to admit, the sounds she made? They went to my cock too. She was panting like she’d run a race, and all it made me think about was how she’d look when she was coming down from an orgasm. That thought process wasn’t helping my boner disappear, but the show she put on was better than a goddamn lap dance.

  She’d gone from elegant and refined to gloriously alive and vibrant with emotion in a handful of seconds. Somehow, I knew that very few people got to see that side of her.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d been given that gift, but I knew it was exactly that.

  “Why did you ask me to come here?” I questioned carefully, when my dick started to pound behind the cage of my fly. I needed to get shit on track before things derailed too far.

  “The sheriff is on your side, but you might need to line his pockets some more. My father’s reserves are not unlimited, but where Luke’s concerned? I wouldn’t be surprised if he put himself in fiscal peril to get justice for that bastard.”

  Her hatred of both men was evident, and because I knew what Lancaster Jr. had done, and as I also knew that Lancaster Sr. was willing to cover that shit up, it made me like her even more.

  Which didn’t help my boner.

  Not in the least.

  Nor did the words ‘fiscal peril.’ That people actually talked like her blew my fucking mind.

  “The mayor’s in his pocket,” she told me coolly, her attention reverting to the hedge opposite us when I didn’t give her much of a response. The hedge separated two tennis courts which were empty. The occupied court was farther away, and now that I was on lower ground, I couldn’t even hear the tennis ball machine anymore.

  I let my gaze drift over her cheekbones, which had a gauntness to them that had me narrowing my eyes. “Knew that,” I admitted. “Glad to know the sheriff’s still got our backs. What I’d like to know is why you’re telling me this.”

  “Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  That had me quirking a brow at her. “Expect me to believe that? You’re going against your daddy?”

  “You’ve never met my father, have you?”

  “Haven’t had the misfortune, no.”

  “Lucky you.” Her smile was cold. “This isn’t the only murder in my family.”

  My brows rose at that because, fuck, what with the enemy shit and talk of murder? This bitch was suddenly a lot more interesting than she had been.

  “Who died?”

  “My mom.”

  “Who killed her?”

  “My father.”

  Tension filled me at the words she uttered, words that came with no intonation. She was talking like she was bitching about the weather or something. It kind of fucked with my head.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why he isn’t in jail?”

  Now, there was a softness I understood, one I hated on her behalf. “I don’t need to. Your daddy’s rich as fuck. That says it all. He’s managing to twist this shit around with Giulia, making your rapist fucker of a brother look like the innocent party, like maybe my MC had some kind of bone to pick with him…” I snorted. “If he can do that, then I know he can do anything.”

  “I want him dead.”

  She whispered those words, softer than even Ghost had talked last night.

  “We don’t do murder for hire,” I snapped, just in case that was what she was thinking.

  Her nostrils flared as she turned to glower at me. “Did I make that request?”

  “No. Just making sure I get that out right here, right now. Especially considering this is how you fuckers tend to entrap people like me.”

  Her top lip quirked in a snarl. “Yeah, well, you’ve never met anyone like me, and I don’t appreciate you thinking that I’m the same as any other—”

  “Poor little rich girl?”

  Outrage had her nostrils flaring. “You can say that when I just told you my father killed my mother?”

  “Happens more often than it should.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean that it ain’t a fucking pity. It is. But a tragic past is something most of my brothers have in common with you. I ain’t about to cut you slack just because you think you deserve it.”

  Her eyes were like slits as she stared at me, then, after a handful of minutes, she surprised me by smiling. Honest to fuck smiling. And shit, if the sun didn’t peek out from behind the clouds at the same time.

  If a guy like me could be dazzled, then that was me. Right there. Right then.

  “I like that. Most people let me get away with shit because I’m a Lancaster—”

  “Well, if you like that, I have more I can give you.”

 
; She snorted. “I’m sure you can.” She reached for her cell phone and stated, “I-I have access to funds.”

  “Good for you,” I taunted.

  Her eyes flashed, snapping back to anger once more. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not like my father and Luke. I don’t have access to the fortune outside of a credit card he gives me. But if Giulia needs help with legal counsel, I can figure out a way to help her.”

  For a second, I wasn’t sure what to say about that, then I muttered, “She’s part of the MC. We take care of our own.”

  “Well, the offer’s there.” Clearing her throat, she whispered, “I’m glad she killed Luke. He deserved to die.”

  “He deserved to die after he was tortured like he tortured those women,” I said grimly, staring back at the tennis courts ahead of me so she didn’t see the torment in my eyes, a torment that was founded in what I’d seen last night. It was like a parallel universe in this place. So fucking pretty and clean while being the stomping grounds of sick bastards like the Lancasters.

  And yeah, I included the daughter in that statement, considering she wanted to kill her daddy too.

  My lips twitched at that and I rubbed my hand across my jaw. “What are you waiting for?”

  She frowned. “With regard to what?”

  “Your father.” I sniffed. “You waiting on him to change the will?”

  “Of course. I won’t do anything until that happens, and not because I’m a greedy, grasping piece of shit either. That money…” She clenched her teeth. “My mom was the rich one. He took her wealth and made it his own. He was a venture capitalist back in the day, and he married her for her money. In a divorce, he’d have been entitled to half the estate, but—”

  “All is better than half.” I plucked at my chin. “What you going to do with all those billions?”

  “You talk like it will be easy to kill him.” Lily narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Won’t it? You hate him. You want him dead. You’re just waiting on the right moment.”

  She gnawed on her plump lip. “I wish it was that simple.”

  “It can be,” I responded, well aware I was talking about murdering her father as easily as I would order a coffee from a diner. But then, in my world, death ran hand in hand with life. Sure, it did for every miserable human on this godforsaken planet, but for brothers in an MC, it was closer to hand than regular folk.