Luck of the Devil (A Raven Ruin Novel Book 3)

by Marie James

  “They shouldn’t know that much pleasure,” Luis says absently as he watches one of his women come on Chains’s dick. “It ruins them.”

  The warning in his voice is clear, but how he re-educates these girls is the least of my damn worries. Getting out of this fucking place without leaving my life or my blood on the floor is my main concern.

  Chapter 7

  Molly

  “Dr. Andrews’s office. This is Molly, how may I help you?”

  Rosie grins from beside me, giving me double thumbs up. She’s shown me at least ten times how to answer the phone, what I need to say, and how to address concerned pet owners. She’s watched me like a hawk since the moment I showed up. I’m unable to tell if she thinks I’m an idiot, or if she just takes so much pride in her job that she won’t let anyone make mistakes on her watch. I’m hoping for the latter.

  “No, Ma’am,” I answer the customer. “We don’t require an appointment for rabies vaccinations.”

  I go on to explain the same thing verbatim that Rosie told a customer only moments ago before disconnecting the call.

  “Dr. Andrews will be in shortly. Think you can handle it on your own? We have a pretty tight surgery schedule today.”

  “You don’t mind if I ask for help if I have trouble, do you?” I have no doubt I can answer a phone and plug appointments into the calendar. The damn thing is color coded to the nines, making it so easy a baby could do this job. The only reason I ask is because she seems the type who needs to be needed and the last thing I want to do is alienate others on my first day on the job.

  “Of course not,” she beams. “There’s an intercom on the wall in the surgical suite. Follow me, and I’ll show you how to use it as well.”

  Rolling my lips between my teeth, I follow Rosie, so she can show me how to press a button and speak into a box on the wall.

  “Is she all lined out?”

  Smiling sincerely for the first time since I got here, I turn in Owen’s direction.

  “She knows to ask if she needs help,” Rosie says matter of factly before disappearing into the back room.

  “She’s intense,” I huff when the door swings closed behind her.

  “She’s been here longer than I have. When I took over for Dr. Prescott, she would actually give me pointers in surgery. The only thing she lacks to run this place by herself is the degree and licensing.” His smile spreads across his face. “You look great in scrubs. I knew you’d be a great fit.”

  I look down at the salmon-colored clothes with a grin. “I kinda feel like a doctor.”

  “You definitely look the part. Plus, you’re still young. Medical school is a possibility.”

  “I’d have to graduate high school first.”

  His smile immediately disappears.

  “I’m eighteen,” I vow. “I just left school recently.”

  “Education is very important, Molly.”

  I’d tell him he sounds like my dad, but my father never saw a point to any type of formal education. He left those duties up to my brothers and Briar.

  My jaw tenses just thinking about the club’s VP.

  “I know,” I respond. “I plan on going back, but probably online. I’m not one for the classroom setting.”

  He nods, but his eyes continue to assess me.

  “You have a busy schedule today, Dr. Andrews. Better get to it.”

  I leave him standing in the surgical suite when I hear the bell above the door chime. Rosie and I have already checked in several patients, but two on the schedule hadn’t shown up. Rosie was quite flustered over people who weren’t punctual. Since she showed me the process on how to get them checked in, I’m in my element when I return to the front.

  I’m in the middle of getting the paperwork completed for an anxious pup that will be leaving today with a little less than he came in with when I feel eyes on my back.

  I’m startled when I turn around and see a man standing in the back doorway. His eyes rake over me the way I expect men to look at me. Cold chills race up my arms.

  “C-can I help you?”

  “Oh,” he says with a crooked smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he steps forward with his hand extended in my direction. “I’m Lance. I do a lot of the heavy lifting around here.”

  He drops his hand when he realizes I’m not going to touch him. That’s one thing about being raised in the club. Niceties and common courtesy aren’t a requirement, especially when we feel uncomfortable.

  You own your body, Lynch told me a million times growing up. If you don’t want someone touching you, don’t let them.

  That always came with a lesson on how to make someone bleed out with a quick stab and twist of a blade to the inside of the thigh, but with the way Lance backs off, I don’t imagine I’ll be needing that skill just yet.

  “Rocco,” I tell him with a nod in the collie’s direction, “is ready for you.”

  His eyes stay on me for a second longer than I’m comfortable with, but eventually, he strides past me and scoops up the puppy while I wrap up the paperwork with Mrs. Crumpton.

  “Watch out for him, honey,” she warns before leaving the office.

  I plaster a fake smile on my lips and wave the next person forward in line.

  ***

  “Rosie is in surgery with Dr. Andrews,” I explain for the third time to the caller. “Tuesday next week is booked, but we do have an appointment for Wednesday morning.”

  An annoyed huff rattles through the phone. “I think I need to speak with Rosie. She’d be able to get me in on Tuesday.”

  My cell phone lights up beside the office phone, and I stab the ignore button as I try my best not to lose my shit on the snobby, insistent woman on the phone.

  “Ms. Doyle, Rosie wouldn’t be able to schedule you on Tuesday either.”

  I stab my vibrating phone again. I imagine Boston is going crazy right now, but I have a damn job to do, and answering to anyone in the club isn’t a priority.

  “We do have an appointment the following Tuesday if that fits your schedule.” My tone is so fucking sweet, my own teeth begin to ache.

  “Have Rosie call me,” the woman on the phone snaps before she hangs up.

  I stab the ignore button once again before scribbling out the message to Rosie.

  “Boyfriend trouble?”

  I jolt in my chair at Owen’s voice right over my shoulder. I chastise myself internally for letting the woman on the phone get me flustered enough to not be aware of my surroundings.

  “Not my boyfriend,” I assure him once my pulse starts to calm at the realization that I’m safe.

  He cocks an eyebrow when my phone begins vibrating once again.

  “Long distance relationships are hard,” he adds when Boston’s name flashes again.

  “Not in a relationship,” I repeat as I power down my phone. I should’ve left the damn thing at home. With how many times he’s called today, I expect him any moment.

  “I just wanted to ch—”

  I hold up my finger when the office phone rings.

  “Dr. Andrews’s office. This is—”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind, Mo—”

  I yank the phone from my ear and drop it back in place.

  “Wrong number,” I assure Owen when he looks at me with confusion.

  “Molly!”

  “Fuck,” I hiss when the front door opens with force and Boston strides with determination in my direction.

  “Let’s go,” the club treasurer snaps as he comes to a stop at the front counter.

  “My shift isn’t over.”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” Boston’s eyes narrow when Owen takes a step closer to me. “Your brother will lose his shit if he finds out you’ve been gone all day without telling anyone.”

  “I think you’ll be in more trouble than me,” I challenge.

  Boston’s face pales slightly. He knows he’s supposed to keep an eye on Zoe and me. He hates babysitting, but he does the job to the best
of his ability.

  “Molly?”

  The concern in Owen’s voice pulls my eyes from the stubborn club member to my new boss.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Boston snorts, knowing a man like Owen wouldn’t be a challenge for him at all.

  “Everything is fine,” I assure him before turning a glare in Boston’s direction. “I get off in two hours.”

  Owen moves closer, his warmth and the intoxicating scent of his cologne seem to wrap all the way around me. Boston tenses so hard his knuckles pop on the counter.

  “You know I have to tell Briar about this,” he warns.

  “Please do.” My pulse races with the challenge. “I’m doing exactly what he told me to do.”

  “Turn your phone back on. Answer the fucker when I call,” he snaps before turning around and leaving.

  Owen doesn’t step away from me until the roar of Boston’s Harley fades into nothing.

  “I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to explain what just happened,” my boss says before he disappears into the back of the office.

  I stiffen my back, facing the front with a fake smile on my face when the door chimes again.

  “Mrs. Crumpton,” I greet. “Rocco did an amazing job today, but I imagine he’ll be ecstatic to see you.”

  I carry on for the next couple of hours, wishing time would slow down so I can postpone the hell I’m going to catch when I get home.

  Chapter 8

  Briar

  “Did you sleep?” Lynch asks as we walk down a long hallway to meet Luis.

  “Not a fucking wink,” I mutter.

  “Me either,” Chains adds with a wicked grin. “Those bitches drained me dry. My nuts are shriveled this morning.”

  For good measure, he cups his junk over his jeans with a sated smile.

  “Glad you had a good time,” Lynch says, “but, I need your eyes open for any trouble in this meeting.”

  “Not like we can do a fucking thing about it,” TJ murmurs as he joins us. “They have semi-automatic rifles. We don’t have shit.”

  With curious eyes and heightened senses, we enter the room. It’s structured exactly the way I would expect a corporate office in downtown New York City to look, which is surprising since we’re in the belly of a cartel den. The long mahogany table takes up a massive section of the room. The leather office chairs surrounding it each have tablets for note-taking and sweating pitchers of water and matching heavy crystal glasses situated in front of them.

  “Seriously?” TJ snaps as he walks to the far end of the table and plops unceremoniously in one of the leather chairs.

  Surprisingly, I didn’t see him touch a single woman last night, but he probably can’t get his dick hard without piercing their skin with his knife. Since they confiscated that upon entry yesterday, he’s been acting like a petulant child.

  “Please,” Luis says as he enters from a door camouflaged as part of the wall. “Have a seat. Let’s discuss some business.”

  We were instructed that four of our guys were allowed to attend the meeting, and as we settle in the room, I notice there are three other men standing behind Luis as he settles at the head of the table. Of course, they’re heavily armed while we sit with no recourse for self-defense if shit goes sideways.

  “Nice room,” Lynch says to break the ice after we all settle, and no one speaks.

  “Not what you expected?”

  “Honestly?” Lynch sounds surer of himself than I know he feels. “Not really.”

  Luis smiles, the delight meeting his eyes for the first time since we met in person yesterday. “The days of living like thugs and barbarians are over. My plan for the business is structured, and with an ally like the Ravens Ruin MC we can both become very rich men.”

  “I’m already a rich man,” Lynch assures him.

  “There’s no such thing as having too much money, Mr. Quintal,” Luis counters.

  “Business partners bring headaches, Mr. Jiménez.”

  “Yet, they are an essential part of being successful. Where are you currently getting your cocaine?”

  “Don’t insult me by asking questions you already know the answer to.”

  I barely manage to keep the smile off my face. If this fucker thought we were going to come in here and roll over at his commands, he was sorely mistaken.

  Rather than being pissed, he looks almost proud at my president’s gall to stand up to him.

  “Fair enough,” Jiménez concedes. “What’s the difference between my coke and Mexican cartel coke? Other than quality?”

  “Mexican coke didn’t get my mother gunned down by her own family,” Lynch seethes.

  Shit just got real.

  Luis nods, mulling over the information before speaking. “Alejandro Días was a brutal man, but it’s my understanding that you run your club with as tight a fist as he led our regime for decades. I can assure you, however, that my corporation, although just as thorough on accountability, would’ve handled things differently.”

  “How so?” Lynch grunts.

  Cringing at his insistence, I’m disappointed in his question. We don’t normally have to make an example of women, but it’s not something we haven’t involved ourselves in in recent years. Concern for Molly’s safety is one of the main reasons I’ve never even let myself imagine holding her in my arms.

  “I would’ve put the bullet in your father’s head rather than ordering the assassination of my daughter. Bastard or full-blooded child, family is allowed a little more leeway. Do you disagree?” A wicked grin lights Luis’s face in a sinister twist of his lips. “On the other hand, I don’t have a nagging fucking wife to concern herself with where my cock travels and the consequences of that.”

  “Frances was a means to an end,” Lynch confirms what we’ve speculated over for the last couple of months when Frances was choked to death, and the cartel didn’t come knocking on our clubhouse door.

  “I grieve for my wife.” Not an ounce of remorse crosses Luis’s face. “Yet, I find joy in the kingdom I’ve inherited.”

  “That makes one of us,” Lynch mutters.

  “You knew what you were getting into when you strung your father up. Now is your chance to make his empire-your empire-strive in a shitty economy. There will always be money in cocaine. You should use ours instead of the Mexicans’,” he pushes.

  “What’s the offer?” Lynch asks.

  Luis snaps his fingers, and one of his soldiers produces a stack of papers seemingly from thin air. “I can guarantee the finest cocaine at twenty percent below cost for the next five years.”

  Looking over Lynch’s shoulder, I eye the paperwork.

  “The cartel is using fucking contracts now?” TJ snorts from the opposite end of the table.

  “We’re businessmen,” Luis assures him. “And before you ask, after five years we can come back to the table and renegotiate.”

  “Why the fuck do you want us involved? You have the power to move more coke than we can even hope for,” Lynch says as his eyes stay on the cartel boss rather than drifting to the paperwork in front of him.

  “Several reasons. I hate the cold weather, so making trips up north doesn’t interest me. Also, I know Ravens Ruin is a thriving enterprise up there. You guys are astute businessmen, and I don’t have to worry about getting fucked over. I know for a fact you don’t tolerate people fucking with your business.” He winks at my prez before continuing. “You keeping your guys in line keeps the coke flowing like water, and everyone is happy.”

  “And your oversight?” Lynch still isn’t convinced.

  This isn’t at all what we thought we were walking into when we left Sutton.

  “None,” Luis says simply as he leans back in his leather chair. “We’ll meet your guys halfway a couple of times a month, on neutral ground of course. You pay for the product, and that’s that. All that we’re asking for is untraceable money and exclusivity.”

  “And in the event your lines dry up?”

 
; Luis chuckles as if Lynch asked about hell freezing over. “That’s highly unlikely, but there are concessions for that in clause twelve of the contract.”

  Only then does Lynch lower his eyes to the paperwork in front of him. Several tense minutes pass as he reads over the contract.

  “Housing for your men on occasion?” Lynch snaps his eyes back up at the cartel boss.

  “All I ask is appropriate accommodations as I’ve provided for you in my own home.” Luis shakes his head as if even asking is ridiculous to him. “I have a couple guys that have never seen snow. The winter weather in Massachusetts appeals to a few of them for some unknown reason.”

  “I ask for seventy-two hours notice, and they don’t hurt my women when they visit,” Lynch barters, continuing only after Luis raises his brow in confusion. “I heard the screams from several rooms last night. Those ladies didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention they were getting.”

  “Fair enough,” Jiménez concedes. The big motherfucker who looks like Satan incarnate grunts his disapproval, but otherwise remains silent. “Anything else?”

  Lynch lowers his head as he finishes reading the contract.

  “Seems fair,” he says when he lifts his eyes.

  “You’re sure you can move that much product?”

  “My business model is none of your concern,” Lynch says as he holds his hand out for the pen the gorilla man just handed Luis.

  He signs our lives away to the cartel before passing it back to Luis for his signature. A second copy is produced and they each sign again.

  “It’s nice doing business with you,” Luis says as he stands and offers his hand.

  Lynch grips it tightly as they look each other in the eye for a second too long. Warnings, threats, and promises pass between them silently before they release each other.

  Immediately after dropping Luis’s hand, Lynch spins around. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  He rolls his copy of the contract, twisting in his hands as we stride to the door. We barely pause to collect our anxious men in the foyer before piling out of the mansion, into the waiting SUVs, and getting the fuck out of Dodge.