Circle of Death

by Colleen Masters

  With a curt nod, I make my swift exit. My mind reels wildly as I try to think through this terrible mess. As angry as I am with Leviathan, with Klein, with The Club, I’m even still more furious with myself. By coming to care for Logan, I’ve made myself vulnerable to this kind of manipulation. Even worse, I’ve made my club vulnerable. I’ve failed entirely, fucked up beyond repair. There’s no way this shit can end well.

  Now, the best I can do is damage control. And if my own happiness is one of things that proves to be irreparable, so be it. God knows, I’ll bear whatever pain I have to. Just as long as the people I care about come out of this in one piece. Especially Logan. I don’t bother hoping that I can keep her now, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to keep her safe.

  I owe her that, at least.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Logan

  Without Devlin by my side, the whirling lights and chaotic sounds of the casino are drained of their magic. The scene unfolding all around me becomes grotesque, overwhelming—sickening, even. Try as I might to assure myself that everything is OK, my intuition is screaming just the opposite. Panic snakes through me as I wait for Devlin to reappear. Finally, the pressure is too much for me to withstand. My head swims with worst case scenarios as I resign to my worries and flee the depraved funhouse that is the main floor of The Club.

  Calm down, I urge myself, slipping through quiet hallways of the old fortress. Dev wouldn’t have left if I were in any real danger. Probably he just had to settle a bill with The Club or something. Maybe one of his MC brothers was causing trouble out in the woods. Whatever the issue is, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

  “Right,” I scoff, slipping the key card into my bedroom door, “Because reasonable is what Devlin Vile does best.”

  I step into the darkened room, breathing a sigh of relief as I close the door behind me. Surely, I can relax now. Even if worry still tugs insistently at the edges of my mind. I make my way toward the bathroom, eager to wash off my elegant makeup in favor of something more subtle. This dressing up like a princess thing has been fun, but I feel just as beautiful in shorts and a tee shirt around Dev.

  Just as I reach the bathroom door, the lights flick on all around me. A rush of fear stops my heart for a beat as I look wildly around my bedroom. But then Devlin appears in the doorway between our rooms, and a startled laugh bursts from my chest.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” I say, shaking off my jitters as best I can. “Where the hell did you disappear to, Dev? You had me thinking the worst.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he replies. The cold note in his voice drives the levity from my heart. I look up at him in the dim light, warily noting his stoic expression. He’s never looked at me with such...disinterest.

  “Is something wrong, Dev?” I ask, stepping tentatively toward him.

  “Nothing that can’t be righted,” he shrugs, crossing his thick arms across his chest. He’s shucked off his fine suit, and wears his standard uniform of jeans, a tee shirt, and his beloved cut.

  “Is our evening done, then?” I ask, perplexed. “I thought you wanted us to play all fancy tonight, or—”

  “Tonight’s over,” he says shortly. “This whole thing is over.”

  I take a deep breath to steady myself. Surely, I can’t really be hearing these words coming from Devlin’s lips. Averting my eyes, I take in the rest of the room at last. All of my belongings have been packed up into a set of matching luggage. The bed is made and turned down. No evidence of my ever having been here remains. Dread begins to well up inside of me as I reluctantly put the pieces together.

  “Am I going somewhere?” I ask quietly, raising my eyes to Dev’s.

  “You’re going home,” he tells me, without ceremony. “When that yacht rolls in from the mainland tomorrow night, you’re getting on it.”

  I stare at him, uncomprehending. Is this some kind of joke? Just hours ago, we were making plans for my life with the Circle of Death. He can’t possibly be serious with all of this. Maybe he’s testing me. Or...something.

  “Devlin,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. “Where is this coming from, all of a sudden? I told you, I don’t want to go back to Boston. I want to stay with you.”

  “Circumstances have changed,” he shrugs. “Tagging along with me is no longer an option, Logan.”

  “Tagging along?” I ask, incredulously. “I’m not your kid sister, Dev. I’m—”

  “What? What are you to me?” he asks dispassionately. “You’re not a sweet butt. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re sure as hell not my old lady. There’s no place for you in my life. In my club. It was ridiculous of us to pretend otherwise. This week has been a good time, but let’s be real, Logan. You coming back to Maine with me was never really going to work out.”

  “Why are you saying this?” I ask, struggling to speak around the knot in my throat. “I thought you cared about me, Dev. I know you care about me.”

  “We’ve had a lot of fun,” he allows, pulling a pack of smokes from his cut. “But come on, Logan. You’re not the MC type. You’ve just never been properly fucked before I came along, and you’re not thinking straight.”

  Anger cuts through my confusion, blurring the edges of my vision. This isn’t the Devlin I know talking. This is the act he puts on for the rest of the world. We’re closer than this now, past all the bad boy posturing. He’s trying to be cruel, trying to drive me away. But why? What could possibly have changed in the mere hour we spent apart? He must have been told something by those men in suits—found out about something that’s compelling him to cast me off.

  “Oh, fuck,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around my waist. There’s only one thing that could have changed Devlin’s opinion of me this quickly. Someone must have tipped him off about my true intentions for being here at The Club. Did Elliot get word to him somehow, just to fuck me over? Could she have been that upset about me quitting FootSolider?

  “I know it’s sudden, but you’ll get over it,” Devlin goes on, turning to leave. “You can keep the room for the night, if you like. But if you’d rather go crash with your sister—”

  “You found out, didn’t you?” I ask, rushing to catch the door before it swings shut behind him. “You know about the article.”

  Now it’s Devlin’s turn to be surprised. His tough guy persona cracks just a hair as he turns back to face me. “The article?” he asks, his gaze burning holes straight through me. “What article, Logan?”

  My mouth falls open wordlessly at his impending wrath. Is he playing dumb about this just to punish me? Or did I really just rat myself out for no reason? I backpedal desperately, easing away from his staggering form.

  “Never mind,” I say quickly, “I just thought—”

  “What article are you talking about, Logan?” he presses, backing me into my spotless bedroom. “Tell me. Now.”

  I’ve left myself no choice but to come clean. He’s already decided to kick me to the curb, after all. What have I got to lose?

  “My article for FootSolider,” I say, my voice quivering. “Someone must have told you about it. Why else would you have decided to get rid of me all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know about any article of yours,” Devlin says harshly. “But now I’m pretty fucking curious. Care to let me in on the big goddamn secret?”

  I’m pressed up against the bedroom wall, quite literally backed into a corner. Willing myself not to tremble before Devlin, I press on.

  “I was hired by an online publication called FootSolider to write a piece about The Club,” I reveal. “That’s why I came out to this island in the first place.”

  Devlin’s eyes go wide with furious disbelief. One thing’s certain—he’s never heard any of this before. I’ve totally fucked myself.

  “You came out here to write about The Club,” he repeats, each word saturated with disdain. “And what, exactly, was your angle going to be? Pretty little rich girl slums it with some big bad bik
er? Were you going to write about us? About me?”

  There’s no use lying to him, but I can’t bring myself to speak the truth, either. The words simply refuse to form on my tongue. But this is Devlin. He can read the truth on my guilty face.

  “It wasn’t just The Club you came here to write about,” he says, his voice hollow. “You came here to write about me. Didn’t you? That’s why you were so determined to catch my eye that first night here. It was all a fucking lie.”

  There’s no sense in denying it. He already knows that he’s uncovered the truth. I try and blink away the tears that rise in my eyes, but it’s no use. They streak down my face, leaving salty trails through my carefully applied makeup. How could I have been so stupid, bringing this up? If there was ever any chance of making Devlin change his mind, it’s been dashed to pieces. His eyes are filled with the pain of betrayal, the outrage of being wronged by someone you’ve trusted with you whole heart.

  “I’m sorry Dev,” I whisper tearfully, hiding my face in my hands. “I thought you’d already found out. I thought that’s why you wanted me gone. Why else would you—?”

  “You never would have told me if you didn’t think I’d found out somewhere else,” he says, his teeth gritted. “You never would have come clean. You would have let me go right on believing that you gave a shit about me while you mined me for some fucking story.”

  “No, Dev. It wasn’t like that,” I cry, “I killed the story, the second I knew I was falling for you. It’s true, I came out here to get a glimpse of your life, to see what you were really like. But once I really got to know you—”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, little girl,” Devlin roars, slamming his fist into the wall beside my head. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

  I leap away from him, suddenly terrified of his brutal force. In a heartbeat, Devlin’s gone from someone I care about to someone I fear. And that transformation breaks my heart more than anything ever has.

  “You have to believe me, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” I plead, backing away from him across the room.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he spits, his hands balled into furious fists. “You could never hurt me. No one can hurt me. I’m unbreakable.”

  “Well. That must be really fucking nice for you,” I whisper fiercely. “Because I’m feeling pretty broken, right now.”

  “Little girl, you don’t know the meaning of the word,” he spits, tossing his head like a bull ready to charge. For a brief, terrifying moment, I think he’s going to run straight at me, tear me down with one swift blow. But instead he turns and storms out of my room in three long strides. I hear his bedroom door open and slam with a ringing crack. Just like that, he’s gone, leaving me shivering and lost in his wake.

  I sink down onto the hardwood floor, my silky scarlet dress pooling around me. Shock overtakes my senses as I struggle to make sense of what’s just come to pass. But try and I might, I can’t wring order from this insane turn of events. My chest heaves with ragged sobs as I collapse into myself, a shuddering heap on the floor. This must be some delusion, some night terror that will dissipate with the rising sun. Surely, this isn’t really happening. Or at least that’s what I hope, as I let exhaustion drag me down into a haunted, uneasy sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  An insistent rapping sound finally drags my mind back to the surface of wakefulness. Someone is knocking—no, pounding—at my door, calling out through to me from the hallway.

  “Logan! Logan! Open the goddamn door,” Juliet demands, her voice unmistakable. “Open the door or I’ll break it down myself.”

  “Go away,” I manage to croak, rasping through my dry throat. I pull myself up with stiff, trembling arms. How long have I been passed out on the unforgiving hardwood floor?

  “What the hell is going on?” Juliet demands, jiggling the doorknob. “You’ve been MIA since yesterday afternoon. It’s nearly 7AM.”

  “What?!” I exclaim, leaping to my feet. I stagger slightly, vertigo taking fierce hold of my body. I’ve been passed out for hours and hours on this cold hard floor. I feel like I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life. But Devlin never laid a hand on me, of course.

  Devlin. The moment his name comes tearing into my mind, I feel the fault lines of my heart crack open once again. As the events of last night come crashing down on me, I know for certain that I haven’t woken from a bad dream. I’ve woken into one. I stumble toward the door, wrenching it open to admit my sister. The look of frustration on her beautiful face fades into baffled concern as she takes in the sight of me.

  “Jesus, Logan...” she breathes, wrapping me up in her arms. “What happened to you? Are you OK?”

  “I don’t think so, Jules,” I say, sobs overtaking me once again. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be OK again.”

  Juliet all but carries me back to my bed, laying me down across the pillowy comforter as she dashes to close and lock the door behind us. She’s moving like someone on high alert as she makes sure we’re secure in my packed-up bedroom.

  “Where’s Dev?” she asks, perching herself at the edge of the bed. “Why isn’t he with you right now?”

  “He...I...” I stammer, unable to force the words through my teeth. “He just left, Jules. He’s done with me.”

  “What do you mean, he left?” she asks, smoothing down my tousled hair. “Where did he go, Logan?”

  “I have no idea,” I cry, curling up on my side in my crimson gown. “We were going to spend the night at the casino together. Living it up before we headed back to the mainland. But just as we got there, these two guys flagged him down and led him off somewhere. I waited as long as I could, but I got scared being all by myself after an hour or so and came back up here. When I walked in, all my stuff was packed up, and Devlin told me he was sending me back home to Boston.”

  “I don’t understand,” Juliet says, her smooth brow furrowing. “I thought you decided to come on the road with us? You and Devlin were hitting it off so well. What the hell changed?”

  “I have no idea,” I groan, blinking up at my sister through my tear-caked mascara. “It’s like he became a different person in the hour he was off with those men. He was so cold to me. It was like the past week never even happened. And then...Oh, Jules. I fucked it all up.”

  “What do you mean? This doesn’t sound like it was your fault, honey,” she says, trying to comfort me.

  “But it is,” I insist, taking her hand in mine. “Juliet...There’s so much you don’t know. About me, about why I’m here. You’d hate me if you knew.”

  “I’m your sister, Logan,” Juliet returns, fixing me with a firm stare. “Nothing you did could ever make me hate you. Do you understand? Now, why don’t you give me the whole story. Start to finish.”

  I take a deep, steadying breath and let my soul pour out. I tell my big sister about everything—the FootSoldier assignment, my ulterior motives for coming to the island, the fact that Devlin Vile was my target all along, the strange detached cruelty with which he let loose on me last night. I don’t leave out a single detail. When my confession is complete, I lift my eyes to Juliet’s, fearful of what I might find there. But instead of loathing, or disgust, or pity, I only see forgiveness. Love.

  “Listen to me, Logan,” she says fiercely, taking my tear-stained face in her hands. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You had no idea you were going to fall for Dev when you took that assignment. And who could blame you for taking it, with that bonus, and hopes of finding me in the process? You turned down the job as soon as you started having feelings for him, and you even came clean to him in the end. Whatever’s forcing him to turn you away is much bigger than some trashy blog, that’s for sure.”

  “But what is making him do this?” I ask desperately, “Why is he pushing me away?”

  “The two men who flagged Dev down in the casino,” Juliet says, thinking out loud. “Were they preppy guys? Real slick and well kept? One with light hair, the other dark?”
<
br />   “Yeah...Yeah, they were,” I say, recalling the scene of last night. “Do you know them?”

  “They sound like these two guys who came sniffing around the Circle of Death headquarters before we headed out here,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “From what Packer tells me, they were trying to recruit the MC to run jobs for some big company. The Leviathan Corporation, that’s what it was.”

  “What would some huge corporation want with a gang of outlaws?” I ask.

  “Distribution. Sounds like Leviathan has some less-than-legal product it wants moved along the East Coast. They’ve been hounding our boys for months.”

  “Dev mentioned some group that was trying to buy off a smaller Circle of Death chapter...” I say, putting the pieces together. “Do you think that was Leviathan, too?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Juliet scowls.

  “Can you ask Packer if he knows anything?” I plead, “I don’t even know where Dev is right now.”

  “That’s the thing,” Juliet says, shaking her head, “I was coming to see if Dev knew where Packer had run off to. He slipped out of the room about an hour ago, and I can’t find him anywhere. I can’t find any of the brothers, for that matter.”

  “Oh my god,” I breathe, “Do you think something’s happened to them?”

  “No,” Juliet says confidently. “They’re the Circle of Death. Things don’t catch them off guard. My guess is that they’re convening somewhere out of reach, figuring out how to proceed. If Leviathan is getting this aggressive, it might be time to take some serious action.”

  “What kind of action?” I ask, almost afraid to know the answer.

  “Getting off this rock, for starters,” Juliet says. “We’re going to want to get as far away from those fuckers as possible. They’re not just some big shot conglomeration looking for some creative distribution strategies. The stuff they’re into is fucked up. They’re not just running drugs and guns. They’re running girls, too.”