Circle of Death

by Colleen Masters

  “It’s mutual, Dev,” I smile. “I can’t wait to see what your real life looks like.”

  “And you’re not gonna get scared away,” he says firmly. I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. “You’re not going to run as soon as you see what my world is really like. What I’m really like.”

  “Of course not,” I say softly, laying my hands on his firm, bare chest.

  “Good,” he says gruffly, “Because I couldn’t fucking take that, Logan. I really couldn’t.”

  It’s the closest he’s ever come to sounding sentimental. But something tells me that this man is not going to go soft and mushy on me, no matter how much we may care about each other. And, honestly? That’s just fine with me.

  “You’re stuck with me, Vile,” I say, gazing up into those endless dark eyes. “So get used to the idea, yeah?”

  “Sounds good,” he laughs, giving my ass a firm squeeze.

  “Get dressed, you animal,” I laugh, shoving him playfully away, “We’ve got a casino to take by storm, remember?”

  Begrudgingly, he deigns to put on his finest suit—a dark, charcoal piece. I watch him as he gets ready, amazed that I have the privilege of seeing him like this. To the rest of the world, Devlin Vile is a ruthless, hardened criminal. I’m the only one who gets to know him as a real man. A person. It’s not an opportunity that I’m looking to waste, either. Who would have thought that the one person to inspire faith and trust in me would be someone so feared and reviled by the rest of the world?

  “OK,” Devlin says, suited up and gorgeous as ever, “Let’s do this thing.”

  I lace my arm through his, proud to be the woman at his side for the night. And for much longer than a night, if I have any say in the matter.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Devlin

  Every single head turns our way as Logan and I walk out onto the main floor of The Club. Men and women alike are transfixed by the sight of my girl, and I don’t blame them. I’ll still crack open anyone’s skull who tries to make a move on her, but I can’t blame them for staring in the meantime.

  “What’s everyone looking at?” she mutters to me, her grip tightening on my arm.

  “You, babe. They’re all looking at you,” I tell her.

  Logan rolls her eyes at me as I lead her into the sea of rich men and scantily clad women. She has no idea how incredibly sexy she is. No idea whatsoever. But that disinterest in the power of her good looks is part of what draws me to her. She’s gotten this far in life using her brain alone, never resorting to her sex appeal to get what she wants. It’s a powerful quality.

  Logan’s a rare breed here at The Club. Apart from Juliet and a couple of other rich wives, all the women on this island are employees of The Club. Working girls. They run everything around here—from the card tables, to the bars, to the more intimate services on tap. Then of course there are the mainland girls who come in to party at night. We’re due for another boatload tomorrow. But Logan even stood out from those girls from the second she stepped foot on this rock. My girl is one of a kind.

  What is this “my girl” shit?” I ask myself, as I lead Logan up to the long bar that circles the room. I’ve been secretly thinking of her as mine all week. And now that she’s agreed to come back to Maine with me, that thinking’s in high gear. Trouble is, the MC life doesn’t really accommodate casual visitors. Logan’s not a sweet butt or an old lady, but lingering in the middle ground isn’t really the Circle of Death way. At some point, that bridge will have to be crossed. Or else burned.

  “Two whiskeys. Neat,” I tell the bartender, a woman dressed up as a sexy queen of hearts. She’s conventionally hot, but she doesn’t hold a candle to the woman at my side.

  Logan looks out across the expansive, whirling kaleidoscope of a room, settling elegantly onto her barstool. She even makes swigging whiskey look classy. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not just some biker thug who doesn’t deserve her. I may have started out as some poor kid from Western Massachusetts, but I’ve built myself up into Devlin fucking Vile. I’ll never stop being proud of how far I’ve come.

  It’s not that I really worry about being good enough for Logan. I’m just pretty amazed to have found my match. I’ve always been a dominate sort of man. Hell, I wouldn’t be where I am today if that wasn’t the case. But never before have I met a woman who can bring me to my knees just by sinking to hers. Every time Logan gives herself over to me, I’m like a man possessed by the need to please her. To show her how grateful I am for her power, her grace, her whole badass self.

  I have no idea how to make sense of it, but I’m not complaining about the dynamic, that’s for sure.

  “What’re you thinking about, stud?” Logan asks me now, taking a long, luscious sip of whiskey.

  “One guess,” I grin, snaking an arm around her tiny waist.

  “We only just got here,” she laughs, shoving me playfully, “You can’t carry me back to bed already.”

  “Fine,” I sigh, pretending to be annoyed. “Let’s hit the blackjack table then. The sooner we throw down some chips and rake in a little cash, the sooner I can rip that dress right back off that perfect body of yours.”

  Logan shoots me her sexiest, most mischievous look as she laces her fingers with mine and tugs me into the fray of the casino floor. I trail close behind her, making sure everyone knows exactly who she came here with. She weaves through the roiling crowd like a minnow, but I prefer to move like a great white shark, parting the swarm as I go.

  Just as Logan eases up to the blackjack table, I find myself face-to-face with two little fish who don’t want to swim out of my way. If they don’t beat it, I might have to swallow them whole. I look down with annoyance at the two men who have placed themselves firmly in my path. As soon as I’ve put names to their smug fucking faces, I feel my blood rise to a boil.

  “Hello again, Mr. Vile,” smiles the blonde prick from Leviathan who showed up to my headquarters right before our trip. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “You fuckers better get out of my sight. Fast,” I snarl, “Or I can’t be held responsible for what I do to you.”

  “I’m sure,” smiles the second, darker man.

  “We’re going to need you to join us for a little chat,” says the first man.

  “Not on your life, Mikey,” I sneer, pushing past the posh little shits.

  “It’s not our lives you should be concerned about at the moment,” says the second man.

  I turn back to face them, my entire body vibrating with pent-up rage. “Did you just threaten me, Jimmy?” I ask, my voice low and deadly.

  “That wasn’t so much a threat as it was a promise,” Jim replies, crossing his arms. I watch as his eyes gravitate down to my chest, and my gaze follows suit.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, spotting the hovering red dot of a gunman’s sight, right there over my heart. Looks like they’ve got backup.

  “Convinced?” Mike asks, a grin splitting his tanned face.

  I spot Logan looking my way over Mike and Jim’s heads. The corners of her mouth are turned down in concern, and I can tell she’s about to head my way if I don’t put her at ease. I muscle my expression into one of calm and hold up my hand, signaling to her that all is well. Her eyes linger on mine for half a second more before she reluctantly turns back to the game. We’ve gotten pretty good at reading each other—but I’m glad she can’t see all the way through me just yet.

  “Let’s go,” I say to the primped suits before me.

  “Good man,” Mike smiles, clapping me on the shoulder.

  It takes every bit of restraint I have not to snap his arm off. By some herculean effort, I refrain, and let the men lead me away through the crowded club. I allow myself one last glance at Logan see that she’s staring after me, too. I muster up a reassuring smile to shoot her way. No use in worrying her, is there? Scare tactics aside, these idiots are no match for me.

  And neither are their sadistic Leviathan bosses.

 
; I’m led away from the rollicking floor of the club, off through an inconspicuous doorway. The lights of the casino quickly fade away in our wake as we trek deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast that is The Club itself.

  “You fellas care to fill me in, here?” I ask, playing the dumb thug.

  “I’m sure you know what this is about, Mr. Vile,” Mike says crisply, stepping into what looks like a freight elevator.

  “You’re not as stupid as you look, after all,” Jim adds, following Mike in the metal can.

  I grit my teeth as I step in after them, spotting the blinking red light of a security camera overhead. I figured that the entire club was covered in cameras and microphones—this place only looks remote and rustic, but is most certainly fitted out with all the latest hardware. These two must be feeling pretty secure in their safety, with my every action caught on camera. The question is, why aren’t they more skittish about leveling guns at patrons of The Club, right out in plain sight?

  The elevator comes to a grinding halt, and the doors open onto a long, white corridor, glowing under fluorescent lights. Well, that’s not menacing at all, is it? I think to myself, trailing Mike and Jim as they stroll through the hallway as if it were a goddamn rose garden.

  Padlocked doors line the hall, and what they hide is anyone’s guess. But down at the end of the passageway, a simple, single door stands open. From here, it looks like any other corner office. But I get the feeling that I’m in for a rude surprise, all the same.

  “Go on in,” Mike says, as I come to a stop before the final door. “He’s expecting you.”

  Drawing myself up to my full height, I brush past my escorts and all but storm into the office. May as well face the inevitable head-on, right? And besides, I’m awfully eager for some answers, here.

  The expansive office opens up before me. I realize at once that the room is circular, with huge windows ringing the space, looking out over the entire island. We must be up in the old watchtower. You really can keep an eye on everything from this spot. Especially when you take into account the bank of security monitors that loom over a single desk across the way.

  Live feed from every corner of the island streams across those screens. Someone’s keeping a close eye on the people who come out to this rock. On at least two monitors, naked bodies writhe and buck, clearly fucking. Guess nothing’s off limits for whoever sits behind that big fancy desk.

  “So glad to finally meet you, Mr. Vile,” says a sickly sweet voice from behind the desk. A tall leather chair is turned away from me there, obscuring the speaker.

  “I can’t say it’s mutual,” I growl, as Jim closes the office door, leaving me alone with the mystery man, here.

  “Come now,” the voice goes on, “That’s no way to begin a business meeting.”

  “Is that what this is?” I ask, “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like a scene from a poor man’s Godfather knockoff. Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you want?”

  As I look on, the high-backed chair spins slowly around. I almost have to squint to take in the figure sitting there before me. A slight man, no taller than five and a half feet, is perched on the fine leather, staring at me over eerily long steepled fingers. His fine Italian suit has been tailored to his small, slender body, and his stark white hair is combed into a perfect coif. Thick glasses make his watery blue eyes pop out of his thin face. All told, he’s one freaky looking little dude—but I’m not about to write him off just yet. It’s always the little guys who bring along the most muscle, after all.

  “Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier,” he goes on in his syrupy voice. “My name is Lester Klein.”

  “Well Les,” I say gruffly, crossing my arms, “You have a funny way of making introductions.”

  “You’re not an easy man to a get a hold of,” Klein laughs, standing from his chair. He looks even smaller on his feet than sitting. “I did send a couple of my emissaries to your headquarters, don’t forget. But I gather they didn’t make a very good first impression.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I smile, remembering the look of terror on those assholes’ faces as my boys punted them out of our headquarters. “But let’s get down to it. I’m not one for beating around the bush.”

  “I appreciate your frankness,” Klein nods, producing a gold cigarette holder from his jacket pocket and plucking out a smoke. “I’m sure you’ve guessed by now who it is I represent.”

  “Leviathan,” I say, my voice dripping with contempt.

  “That’s right,” Klein smiles serenely, lighting up his cigarette. “The Leviathan Corporation is still extremely interested in contracting your motorcycle club for some light distribution work.”

  “Transporting trafficked girls is your idea of light work?” I seethe.

  “Ah. My apologies,” Klein goes on, shaking his head. “I suppose it’s a bit of a touchy subject for you, isn’t it? Sex workers and the like, I mean.”

  My vision goes white with rage at this little fucker’s implication. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl.

  “Given your mother’s professional inclinations,” Klein says lightly, “It follows that you’d be sensitive about that sort of thing.”

  I lunge across the space and snatch up the front of Klein’s fine suit. I hoist him into the air, his little feet kicking at nothing as the cigarette falls from his startled lips. All I want is to send his body crashing through one of those tall windows. But before I can move another muscle, the door of the office clatters open.

  “Back up, Vile,” I hear Mike shout from across the room.

  “Put him down,” Jim adds. My ears pick up the sound of two handguns being cocked.

  I stare up into Lester Klein’s face, ire surging through my veins. How did this little shit know about my mother? She made absolutely sure that no one ever found out about her occasional, last-ditch efforts to keep us from starving. Even I could never get her admit the nature of her meetings with the various men who would show up at our doorstep in the middle of the night. She never wanted me to know the truth, never wanted me to know what she was forced to do for the sake of our two-person family.

  “You can’t talk about a man’s mother and expect not to get roughed up,” I say, shoving Klein back against the desk and taking a step away. I’m not about to start throwing punches with two guns trained on my back. “You want to talk business, talk business. Leave personal matters out of it.”

  “Come now,” Klein says, brushing off the front of his suit jacket. “When are personal and business matters ever disentangled from each other, truly?”

  “Is that how you’ve managed to get yourself a little office up here? A personal arrangement?” I press. “I doubt that The Club appreciates you abducting one of its esteemed guests. Does Leviathan have something worked out with the people who run this joint or what?”

  “You could certainly say that,” Klein smiles. “The interests of Leviathan and The Club are, shall we say, entwined. And right now, those interests involve you agreeing to work for us at long last.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to give in now?” I laugh roughly. “You show up at my headquarters, I tell you to fuck off. You try and buy off one of my smaller chapters, I deal with the problem the only way I know how. Now you bring me up here and start waving guns around? Guess what, the answer is still fuck no. I don’t know what negotiation tactics usually work for you, but pissing off the one guy you’re trying to persuade is a pretty shitty strategy. You’re not going to kill me. You need me too much. Looks to me like you’re all out of moves.”

  “You’re right about one thing,” Klein allows, nodding for Mike and Jim to lower their weapons. “We’re not going to kill you, Devlin. That would be an enormous waste of talent. But we’re not above shedding some other blood. Blood you might find even more precious than your own.”

  Klein steps away from the bank of monitors behind his desk, giving me a full view. One by one, the screens cut away to a
single shot. My stomach tightens painfully as the entire wall of monitors flick onto Logan’s beautiful face. She’s still sitting at that blackjack table, trying not to look nervous. But I can see full well that she’s worried, and with very good reason as it turns out.

  “We understand that you’ve taken quite a liking to a woman. Logan Farrah, is it?” Klein says, crossing his arms.

  “She has nothing to do with this,” I say, my voice low and ragged. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  “We’d be more than happy to leave Miss Farrah untouched,” Klein insists. “If you agree to cooperate, that is.”

  Fury and terror battle for control of my mind. I stare up at Logan’s face, paralyzed.

  “You’re using her as leverage against me?” I snarl. “What the fuck kind of monsters are you?”

  “The industrious kind, Mr. Vile,” Klein replies with a sickening smile. “You care very much for Miss Farrah. We care very much for our business endeavors. If you’d simply agree to work for us, both of things we care about can go on existing in peace and good health. But if you still refuse to give us what we want...Well. I’m afraid that our losses will be repaid with one very significant loss of your own.”

  “You’ll kill her,” I say, my voice hollow. “You’ll kill her if I don’t agree to your terms.”

  “That’s the long and short of it,” Klein says, clapping his hands together. “Shame that it had to come to this, don’t you think? But, it is what it is. What say we move past this unpleasantness altogether?”

  I struggle to get a hold of my thoughts. There has to be a way out of this. Something I haven’t figured out yet.

  “Give me the night to think about this,” I say to Klein. “My club and I are leaving this rock once tomorrow night has come and gone. I’ll have an answer for you before we go.”

  “I’m sure we can wait one more day for your cooperation,” Klein says, extending his hand for me to shake. I grasp his hand, wishing I could crush his tiny fingers all the while. “Just remember,” he goes on, as I turn to storm away, “Leviathan has its eye on you, Vile. You’d better watch your step.”