Colt: Demons of Destruction

by Jacqueline M. Sinclair

  Maci tamped down her surprise. What was she going to do at the clubhouse while he was gone? “Can’t I just stay here? You said it was safe.”

  Colt was already shaking his head. “Can’t risk it. We’re playing a hunch here. If we’re wrong, we’ve given the Rebels everything we know. If that’s the case, you need to be where they can protect you. We’ll need every brother we have front and center, not up here with you.”

  Maci’s eyes widened. They. His meaning was perfectly clear to her. If they were wrong, the Rebels weren’t likely to let them walk out of that meeting alive.

  For a moment, she considered begging him not to do it, to forget the whole thing. Looking at him, she knew it was useless. He’d been waiting for this opportunity too long. The need for revenge was wild in his blood. In his mind, it was already his.

  Blinking away the tears that burned her eyes, she stepped forward, wrapping herself around Colt’s lean body, her fingers skimming his bare skin, tracing the dips and peaks of his muscles.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, but he was miles away. That phone call had created a wall between them. Colt was lost to her, his mind already on the hunt for the man that’d killed his father.

  She planted a kiss on his broad chest and shuffled away, leaving him to his thoughts. He had plans to make, a lifetime to come to terms with. Maci couldn’t imagine in his short time with the Demons that he’d taken on anything like this. She didn’t have to ask to know that the man that did this would be tracked down and dealt with. The only question now was, would they do it with the Rebels’ blessing, or wage war to find him?

  Pulling out her bag, Maci dug out the bundle of money and fanned through it. She needed to convince herself that all her pinching and saving had been for this purpose. Her escape.

  Tucking it back into the bag, she pulled the book she’d started from the nightstand, and pretended to read the words while she worked out the logistics of her plan. Her original instinct to take off seemed like her only option.

  Colt gave her space, lost in his own world, the divide between them growing, consuming whatever had brought them together. Their conversations were perfunctory and stilted, the threat of what the next few days could bring hanging over them like a brewing storm.

  Even though Colt had abandoned his couch on the porch, and climbed into bed with her every night, he hadn’t attempted to have sex with her, toy with her, or even joke with her. It was like they were individually mourning the loss of whatever this had been, while it was falling apart in front of them.

  Nothing brought that home clearer than when Maci woke up Tuesday morning. Colt rested with his head propped on his elbow, watching her sleep. She’d barely opened her eyes and focused when he bent down, claiming her with a gentleness she hadn’t seen from him in days. And he didn’t stop there. There was no part of her body he didn’t set on fire with his tongue, his lips, creating a slow, methodical burn that branded her soul as his.

  She didn’t call it love, and it sure as hell wasn’t just chemistry, but something deeper, and more powerful, than she’d ever experienced had bound them together, and was just as quickly ripping them apart.

  Colt made love to her with the same slow, measured pace, each second bringing them closer to the end of whatever this was, each of them trying, in their own way, to make it last, to make it count.

  Colt would leave and focus on the hunt for the man who’d brought this down on them all. Maci knew she would leave a different person. The woman she’d been hadn’t existed since that night, crushed by a man she didn’t even know.

  Making love to Maci had been a mistake. It’d taken him days to wrap his head around the task ahead of him, to distance himself from her, and focus. Now the whole way back, all he could think of was how it felt to have her wrapped around him again, and for the first time since his mother had called, an inkling of doubt crept into his need for revenge. The wheels were already in motion and there was no turning back.

  Maci held him a little tighter, her head resting against his back. He knew she wanted more. Hell, for the first time in his life, he wanted to give a woman more, but he couldn’t pull away from the clubhouse tonight with promises to Maci banging around in his head. This meeting with Skinner would be the beginning of the end, one way or another. He’d come to terms with the fact that a few of them may not be walking away from it at all.

  The Rebels had to realize they couldn’t last in a full-on war, so if they hit the Demons tonight, they’d come hot and heavy, aiming to do enough damage the first round to cripple the club.

  Did Maci realize that? Learning to love a man tied to a group of hell-raisers was bad enough, but murder was on their minds, and she knew it. He didn’t have to share club business for her to figure that out. What they had in mind was nothing less in the eyes of the law, and if he, or any other Demons were caught, that was the price they’d pay. Could she accept that? Would she? Even if it benefited her?

  Colt stewed on it the entire drive to the clubhouse. He didn’t have any better answers by the time he parked and they climbed off.

  He led her around back and knocked on the door to Hank’s office. Tucker swung it open, his eyes going directly to Maci with a wide smile. Colt planted his hand on his chest, shoving him out of the way. “Eyes on your own paper.”

  Tucker was a huge flirt, but his blatant flirting with Maci irked Colt. Something in his face must have warned Tucker that now was not the time to push him. The kid backed away and claimed a seat against a counter that ran along the opposite wall. Hank, on the other hand, didn’t miss anything. He stood, shaking hands with Colt. “Tucker, take Maci out to the old ladies and stay with them.”

  Tucker cut his eyes to Colt daring him to say something. I swear. The kid was a pain in the ass. If he didn’t like him so much, they would have had to have wired his jaw shut months ago.

  He didn’t even look to Maci as he made his way to the door. Maci though. Her face was wrapped in a determined mask that hit him like a punch in the gut. Fuck. He could have done better by her.

  “She’s pissed.”

  They were alone now and Colt pulled his attention back to Hank. “You think so?” Colt grinned, trying not to let his own emotions boil over. He didn’t need Hank thinking he had his head up his own ass when shit was about to go down.

  “You’re going to wind up looking’ like that boss man of hers, if you keep on,” Hank warned.

  Not knowing what to say to that, Colt sat, listening as Hank filled him in on the plans for the meeting. He’d go in VP’s spot as a courtesy. Pops was his dad, after all, but Hank wasn’t putting money on the fact that the Rebels would stick to the plan, either. “We’ll have eight men on the property, ready to raise hell if they kick up any action. The rest will stay here at the compound to pick up the pieces if we end up stains on the truck stop wall.”

  Hank said the words, keeping his eyes trained on him. Colt knew he was looking for any indication he wasn’t ready for this, prepared to die, if need be.

  “Storm is OK with this?” Colt asked, not that he cared about how their VP felt at being excluded from the meeting, but there’d be life after all this. He hoped.

  “Storm is fine with it. Besides, I don’t think it’s a smart move to have all our strength in one place. Somebody has to be ready to step up if shit turns sour.”

  Colt nodded in agreement.

  “Good. Then let’s let the brothers in on the plans and get rolling.”

  Colt followed Hank, taking his seat, one hand fisted in the other. Every nerve ending in his body was tight with stress. This meeting with Skinner would be the most dangerous part of all of this. The sonofabitch who killed his father wouldn’t see them coming until it was too late, but he was sure to know what hit him. Colt would make sure of that.

  “I need to bring you all up to speed,” Hank said, his voice rising above the chitchat. “Last week we were approached by a civilian claiming to have information about the night of Pops murder
. She provided us with a detail we didn’t know, that the police didn’t make public.” Hank pulled a photo marked evidence from a file at the head of the table.

  “Pops’ patch was ripped from his cut.”

  A round of cursing rose from the crowd. The announcement confirmed, in Colt’s mind, that one of the Rebels was responsible for this. His father’s patch would mean nothing to an outsider.

  Hank let them have their moment, then raised his hands to settle them back down. He went on to explain the pictures, the lack of ID by Maci, and their meeting with Skinner.

  Colt tried to keep his attention on Hank, the questions the other brothers asked, and the back and forth answers and suggestions that came with it. In the end, Colt was pleased with the eight men Hank would have in the wings.

  “How do we know this girl isn’t mixed up with the Rebels?”

  Feeling his insides clinch tight, Colt clenched his teeth to keep from telling Austin what an ass he was. His brothers had a right to ask. He’d just have to endure it. What he wasn’t prepared for was Hank’s response.

  “The same thug that killed Pops attacked the girl.”

  Colt’s blood turned cold.

  “He was killed saving her. Now if that don’t sound like the man we know, we can tuck this shit under the rug right here. I believe her.”

  He balled his hands into fists to hide the rage. That motherfucker had attacked Maci? Colt would tear him apart, piece by fucking piece.

  “Our brother gave his life protecting that girl and we wouldn’t have this chance without her. We’ll pick up where he left off.” Hank nodded to Storm. “She’s one of ours.”

  With Storm’s acknowledgement, they were dismissed. Colt stood, coming face to face with Storm, his steel blue eyes shining with hate. “Get that fucker, Colt.” He held up his hand and Colt slapped his palm, wrapping his fingers around Storm’s. He simply nodded, seeing and hearing everything from a distance.

  Tex appeared, slapping him on the back. “Let’s ride, brother.”

  They walked out together, Colt’s mind finally linking all the random thoughts in his head. His father died saving Maci. He’s dead because of her. Maci was attacked by the same man who killed his father. He’s dead because of her.

  His vision tunneled to his bike, his thoughts on the fight to come. The crowd that had gathered around faded as he swung his leg over his seat and started it up.

  He’d fucked her. He might could even love her. And my dad is dead because of her.

  Maci thought she’d seen hate until she saw the look on Colt’s face as he rode away, a ghost of the man she’d gotten to know over the last week.

  She watched him leave, feeling like he’d ripped her heart out and carried it with him. Tucker stepped up, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s get you introduced to the ladies.”

  Tucker led her inside the main room of the clubhouse where, a week ago, she’d witnessed such debauchery. It now held the same appeal as a local, neighborhood bar, with a good mix of men and women, and everybody clothed.

  Tucker walked her over to a tall, thin brunette who was holding court in a corner. The woman stood as she approached, not smiling, but not looking overtly hateful, either.

  “This is Vanessa,” Tucker said, introducing them. “Vanessa, this is Maci.”

  The woman gave her the once over, then stuck out her hand, a genuine smile on her face. “I’m Hank’s old lady.” She stepped to the side, introducing the other women sitting there with her, but the only one that stuck out was Jess. The distaste on her face was clear, and Maci made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

  “Grab a seat.” Vanessa waved her hand at an empty chair. Maci did, and was immediately assaulted with questions.

  “Heard you were holed up with Colt.” The lascivious tone of the petite red-head’s statement brought a cackle of laughter from the table. Maci couldn’t remember her name, but her words earned her a death stare from Jess.

  Vanessa waved her hand, quieting them down. “Honey, there ain’t one of us here ungrateful you came when you did. What’s happening tonight is long over-due.”

  Maci felt her eyes widen, surprised the ladies knew what was going on. Vanessa laughed. “It’s not rocket science. These guys have been swinging their dicks in the wind the last few days trying to figure out which way it’s going to blow ‘em. With Colt taking off with you, then church today, it’s not hard to figure out the rest.”

  Maci remained quiet and Vanessa brushed a strand of hair from her face, her tone suddenly serious. “What about you, baby doll? You fit into all this somehow. How ya doing?”

  Raw emotion bubbled to the surface. Maci swallowed down the tears, refusing to lose it here in front of all these women. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Tucker sitting at the bar. He tilted his bottle of beer in her direction, but she ignored him, turning her attention back to the women. “I’m breathing, I guess.”

  She looked to Vanessa, unable to hide the desperation on her face. “What am I going to do?” Colt knew. And he blamed her. She didn’t even get the chance to tell him herself. She couldn’t imagine how betrayed he must feel. He hadn’t even looked at her before he pulled away.

  Several of the ladies scattered, taking the quiet conversation as their cue. Other’s remained, showering her with questions and ideas. She thought back to her plan at the cabin, to start over. “I can’t stay here.”

  She avoided looking at each of them, letting the words sink in, but her admission seemed to have changed Jess’ attitude in her favor. “Can’t start fresh looking’ like that. New life, new look.”

  Jess tossed her head toward the lanky brunette sitting next to her. “Julie here is a stylist. She can fix you right up.”

  Julie nodded, and turned to the red-head who’d mentioned Maci’s time with Colt. “You still talk to that guy from Rock Port, Kelly?”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “Storm will fucking kill me.”

  Vanessa waved her off. “Storm don’t give a shit about you and you know it. Besides, he doesn’t have to know. It’s not like you’re going to be sucking that big dick you bragged about. She just needs new ID.”

  Maci balked. “I really don’t need all that, and I don’t want to cause problems. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “And Kelly will be fine,” Vanessa assured her. “I’ll clear it with Hank, if I have to, then her old man can’t say shit.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes, clearly unhappy with her part in all this, but she tossed up her hands in defeat.

  Maci still wasn’t having it. “I have some money saved up. I’ll be fine.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “Honey, you’re up on charges. There’s no telling why they think you burned down your trailer. Besides, if the law finds you, you lead them right back to the Demons.”

  Maci had considered that. Vanessa was right. The idea of her being a wanted woman was hysterical. She’d never even had a speeding ticket, and here she was, planning her great escape.

  The idea was inspiring, and terrifying, all at the same time. It would also sever all ties with Colt. That was exactly what she needed. She leaned in, a small smile on her face. “So, ladies, when you can become anybody in the world, who do you choose?”

  Skinner was out of his league, and the fact that he knew it made him more dangerous. He hid it well, but the sweaty palm when they shook hands, and the fact that the sonofabitch couldn’t sit still, warned Colt that he was likely to be impulsive. As cool as he tried to play it, sitting in the same booth with the Demons made him nervous.

  “This is what you got to go on?” Skinner said, shifting in his seat again. He eyed Colt, then dismissed him and focused on Hank. He wasn’t happy with the fact that their meeting didn’t net like for like.

  Colt’s heart beat a little faster. Skinner wanted to know where the Demons’ VP was. He wasn’t happy that Hank had showed up with just a patched member.

  Hank tilted his head in Colt’s direction. “This is his son,” he said, by way of exp
lanation, trying to diffuse Skinner’s growing attitude.

  The Rebels’ president dropped Maci’s description on the table. “So what exactly are you asking?”

  “Give him up,” Hank said flatly.

  Skinner barked out a laugh, catching the attention of every gear-jammer in the place.

  “Doesn’t your club have whores?” Hank said, leaning in to draw Skinner’s attention back to him. “Your man is out trying to rape women. He killed our brother. Sanctioned or not, he’s wearing your colors.”

  Colt could swear Skinner went a shade paler, and he’d give anything to jump across the table, and beat the shit out of him.

  “We’re here asking an eye for an eye. How long do you think it’s going to take before the law catches up to him, and rains hell down on all of you? If not them, the next club when he murders again. They may not be so respectful.”

  Colt was impressed. They had no reason to believe his father’s murder was anything but random, but it was smooth how Hank used it to up the ante. He had Skinner thinking.

  Skinner reached inside his cut, causing every man at the table to reach for their own. Only Hank kept his cool, throwing up his finger. “You got one shot at this,” he warned.

  Skinner smirked, but his movement slowed, pulling something out of his vest. He smacked it down on the table, covering it with his hand. “We tossed Cain’s apartment when you called. He’s been MIA a couple weeks now.” He pulled his hand away, revealing Pop’s blood-covered patch. “You get a free pass through our county, and him,” he said, using one finger to push the patch in Hank’s direction.

  Skinner turned, calling a man a few tables away, “Ty, give them the info and let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  Ty was an oak and moved like one. Unbending and slow as shit. When he finally made it to the table, paper in hand, he passed it to Hank. “He has a sister that lives outside Savannah. If he’s hiding, she’s it. If he’s in the wind, you’re fucked.”