The Darkest Flame

by Christina Lee

  It’d been an actual physical reaction, like a gong sounding off inside my chest. And when his whiskey-brown eyes snagged mine, my dick swelled instantly. When his gaze traveled down to my bulge, I knew for certain he wasn’t exactly straight.

  In the following months, he’d always flirted with the ladies, so I figured he swung both ways, same as me.

  I screwed the cap back on the polyurethane, cleaned up my tools, and hopped on my bike. I needed to hightail my butt over there before Mal thought I was intentionally late. He did not like tardiness. He hated it so much, I once witnessed him throwing a hubcap supplier out on his ass. Told him if he showed up late for a delivery again, Mal would take his business elsewhere.

  When I rolled into the compound, which was on a sprawling property on the rural outskirts of town, I noticed most of the guys were already there. I parked in my usual spot next to Felix and headed inside.

  “We all here?” Mal asked when he spotted me. “Let’s get started.”

  A large rectangular table in the very back room was where we usually met to conduct club business. Mal and Jonas were always on opposite ends, probably so they could look to each other for confirmation on decisions. We each sat in the same spots even though seats weren’t officially assigned. I was always positioned between Felix and Slim. Slim was tall as fuck and had these long, skinny legs that ate up most of the room beneath the table.

  “Got your piece ready to go in my garage,” I muttered to him as I sat down.

  He gave me the thumbs-up. “I’ll pick it up this weekend.”

  When everyone was seated, the room grew silent, waiting on Mal to speak. It was his ritual to look each one of us in the eye, beginning with Jonas and then moving in a clockwise direction. It was as if he was acknowledging our existence, our place in the club.

  This club was run with more ceremony and order than my last one. The Asylum was pretty chaotic most of the time. There was constant booze and drugs and entertainment. It felt like being in a nightclub during all hours of the day.

  Sure, there were meetings, but there were also secrets and deception. I never truly knew whom I could trust. The Disciples had tradition, shared ideals, and loyalty. Which made me feel even worse about what I was doing on the side with Vaughn.

  But that was about straight-up sex, and I was going to bet that it didn’t even come close to some of the crap these guys were involved in outside club business and behind closed doors. We might’ve ribbed each other about hookups, but we really didn’t share what went on in our private lives. Especially if the guys had old ladies.

  “Brothers,” Mal began and lightly pounded his fist on the wooden table. “I realize it’s been a hard few months trying to extricate ourselves from old messes.”

  We all nodded. Mal had asked some other clubs to buy him out fair and square, or trade weapons for parts, so we could come clean. A couple of old timers who’d been tight with Mal’s dad had left the club early on because they thought the prez had gotten too soft. But those of us who remained were in agreement that being on the right side of the law didn’t leave you spineless. We all wanted to focus on making our businesses lucrative. It meant a better and safer payoff in the end.

  Sure, we still looked over our shoulders and watched our backs, but my conscience was pretty clear. Most of us even stopped regularly carrying our pieces. My blade remained in my back pocket, but that was a given.

  “Those of us seated at this table are on the same page, yeah?” he asked, studying each of our expressions, just to be certain. “I couldn’t be more grateful.”

  “Your grandfather would be proud.” Jonas slapped the recruit closest to him on the back, and a few hear hear’s were chanted around the table. Mal’s grandfather had founded the Disciples decades ago. It was his father who had nearly brought it down. Mal had been raised with the influence of both but identified most with his grandfather’s vision. Mal didn’t share much personal business, but he had told each recruit about the origin and vision of the club.

  Mal lifted his chin in thanks to Jonas. “None of us here wants any more bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. We want to make an honest living and support our families.”

  Some mumbled their agreement. Plenty of the guys had old ladies and kids to support, but there were also several of us who were flying solo. Still, I could only agree with him, having come from a club immersed deeply in drug possession and gun running and the danger that came with that. Fuck, I couldn’t even count the number of times I almost paid with my own life for my own stupidity in joining that organization.

  “Thing is, I want us to get back to our roots. Be a true club, not a gang of thugs,” Mal said, clearing his throat, all side discussions ending. “Our cash reserve has taken a serious hit. Pulling out of those final arms deals will make us safer, but other organizations won’t like it.”

  “Ran into one of the Cyclones at the deli the other day,” Slim said. “Talking smack about us. Saying we were going to have to borrow some dough from other clubs to cover our overhead.”

  “Yeah?” Mal’s jaw ticked. He leaned back in his chair. “How’d you respond?”

  “Ignored him at first, but he wouldn’t drop it,” Slim said, shaking his head. “So I told him we’d see him when his Harley needed some fine-tuning. He’d see how lucrative the parts business was when we handed him the bill.”

  The guys cracked up, and a couple of the brothers fist bumped.

  “Or how about when he wants a good beer and the best wings in town,” Felix said. “Sorry, man, no stools available at the bar for you.”

  Mal smiled and placed his hands behind his head. “Bunch of dumbasses. We’ll have to prove them wrong. Which means we work hard and don’t cause any trouble.”

  He eyes flitted quickly across a new recruit named Simon who had gotten into a couple of skirmishes with another club.

  “We’ve got leftover debts to pay,” Mal said. “Not sure how to handle our deal with the chop shops, but one mess at a time. Like the operation Smoke’s involved in, for instance.”

  Everyone’s eyes sprang my way, and I nodded at Mal.

  “He’s a good brother, helping us out,” Mal said, and his eyes held a hint of appreciation along with some discomfort. “I know you didn’t want to delve back into your past, Smoke, but I will be forever grateful, my man, that you helped us repay our debt to the Scorpions.”

  “Hear hear,” Jonas rumbled, and the guys beat their fists in succession down the line in what sounded like a rousing rhythmic rendition of a tribal chant. Guess it was our very own tune.

  I smiled and tipped my chin.

  Mal held up his hand. “Plus the feds are going to be interested in how the Asylum is using those gun runners to cross over the border. Might just take down their entire operation.”

  A sharp pinch of apprehension stabbed at my gut, and Mal could see it plainly on my face.

  “No worries,” Mal said for my benefit, even though he was looking over at Jonas now. “The boom won’t come down on us.”

  So I pushed my anxiety aside. This club had my back.

  “Other Disciples business?”

  Felix started talking about a new shipment of bumpers at the auto store, and I felt like I was part of something that I could truly be proud of. Even if I had to hide a part of who I was. Every family had their secrets.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vaughn

  I was at one end of the bar and Smoke was down at the other, where a group of rowdy biker chicks had set up camp on some barstools.

  I could tell we were both trying like hell not to stare too long at one another or even make direct contact with our limbs. If he was anything like me, he was wound so tight from sexual tension, he was about to snap.

  Why had we thought that whatever was going on between us would be resolved after a couple of encounters? Was it because he hadn’t fucked my brains out yet? Or would doing so only make this—whatever this was—even worse?

  Because damn it, I couldn�
�t get the thought out of my head of Smoke staying at my place again. The heat of his skin as he lay beside me. The rough stubble on his jaw when our mouths met.

  Right then, Smoke passed behind me to get to the bar glasses I’d just stacked, and his thigh skimmed past my hip. “Fuck,” I murmured low.

  “Tell me about it,” he said as he straightened and went on his way to serve his customer.

  As soon as Mal and some other Disciples showed up and occupied a table in the middle of the room, it was business as usual. We didn’t even give each other a second glance.

  Toward the end of the night, after the crowd had already thinned, my cell rang. I ignored it as I continued bussing a table. When it sounded off again almost immediately after, I dug it out of my pocket, nervous it was something concerning my pop.

  “This is Vaughn.”

  My landlord so rarely called that I didn’t even recognize his voice, let alone his number.

  “Fuck,” I said into the phone, the cold call punching a hole in my chest. “I’ll be right there.”

  Mal’s eyebrows were drawn together in concern. “Something wrong?”

  “Landlord,” I said, lifting my face to the ceiling, hoping to find some fresh air to lessen the anxiety swirling in my chest. “My place was broken into. I’ve gotta take off.”

  “We’re cool here,” Smoke said immediately, his eyes wide and round. “I’ll clean and lock up.”

  “Thanks man,” I said. As I gathered my keys and coat, Smoke moved to the middle of room to have a conversation with Mal.

  I thought I lived in a pretty safe part of town, but that meant nothing when somebody was desperate.

  “You need anything from us?” Mal asked.

  “Nah, think I’m good,” I said, lifting my arm in a wave. “Cops are on their way.”

  “Head over there when you’re finished here,” I heard Mal say to Smoke as I flew through the door.

  “Will do, Prez,” he said, but I couldn’t even take the time to think that through.

  As I swung my leg over my bike, all of my muscles had grown taut. I didn’t need this shit in my life. I already wanted to maim the motherfucker. I only hoped I hadn’t lost everything. Not that I had that much. But still, what I did have was earned with blood, sweat, and tears.

  When I got to my place a short time later, my landlord was on the lawn with two officers. He explained how the tenant across the hall from me noticed that my door was cracked open. When she peeked inside and saw the mess, she immediately called for help.

  I headed up to my place with the cops on my heels and my stomach in my throat.

  The door had been left ajar just as my landlord had said, and from the doorway, I could see that my cushions had been hauled off the couch and the chairs had been toppled over.

  Moving further inside, I could feel the blood draining from my face. Most of the drawers had been pulled open and my personal belongings scattered across the floor.

  One of the officers stepped behind me. “Anything stolen?”

  As I moved through the apartment, I saw nothing expensive missing or out of place. My television and laptop all remained surprisingly untouched. “Doesn’t look that way.”

  I felt relieved yet confused. Had the thief been interrupted during the robbery?

  In my bedroom, the nightstand drawer was pulled wide open, and condoms and lube were strewn around the place, some lying across the bed.

  A distinct foul stench of piss arose from the corner of the room. What the fuck?

  Somebody had broken into my place, not to rob me, but to screw with my things?

  Was somebody trying to out me? Not that condoms and lube meant anything. And it wasn’t like I had a stash of gay porn sitting around or something.

  I looked over at the other officer, who had followed me inside the room and was staring intently at the condoms. “You got a vindictive ex on your hands?” he asked.

  I rushed my fingers through my hair. “Not that I’m aware of. Shit, this is fucked up.”

  I mean, I’d dated over the years and had both men and women in my bed, but nobody who would want to screw with me like this.

  He nodded. “I’ve seen plenty of weird shit over the years. Guess this would qualify. Don’t get me wrong, thieves do some crazy crap when they rob a place, but it doesn’t look like anything was stolen.”

  “So how would you classify this?” I asked, gritting my jaw.

  “Someone just getting off on messing with you.”

  I stared at the bottle of lube lying on my pillow. “So, you think it’s somebody I know?”

  He was writing in his small notebook. “If not, then somebody’s having some sick fun at your expense.”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “That’s fucking great.”

  After the police department took pictures, checked for prints, and left, I spoke to my landlord again to ask more questions. But he never saw anybody enter the building.

  Plus, my door had been jarred open with some kind of tool, according to the cop. The perp obviously knew what he was doing.

  I spotted my neighbor in the hall when I made my way back to my apartment. She looked concerned, probably for her own safety as well. I told her, “If it’s any consolation, the officer said it might be somebody I know.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said before she shut her door and slid the latch firmly in place.

  When I re-entered my apartment, I heard a soft mewling sound. Fuck, my cats. If only they could talk, they’d tell me who did this. And then I’d string the guy up by the balls.

  The first to peek his head from beneath the couch was Cane. “Come here, buddy.”

  He was trembling. I picked him up and curled him in my arms to soothe him. Or was it the other way around? This whole thing had completely unnerved me. After I found my other cat’s hiding place in the hall closet and made sure they were both okay, I began picking up the overturned chairs in my living room, fuming the entire time.

  I’d heard about people feeling violated when they’d been robbed, but this was the first time I’d understood the feeling. Hell, somebody had been in my apartment and put their grimy hands all over my things. And then they took a piss in the corner of my bedroom. What kind of sick fuck did something like that?

  When my buzzer rang, it was pretty late, and by that time I was already placing sheets on my couch so I could sleep near the door with one eye open.

  “Who is it?” I asked wearily into the intercom.

  “Smoke.”

  Relief washed through me, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he had come all the way over here to check on me, even though I knew he had been given the task by Mal. Would he have shown up on his own anyway? I’d like to think that we’d come to an understanding, that maybe we considered each other friends.

  “C’mon up,” I said and then pushed the button to release the door. I couldn’t help wondering if that was exactly how this guy had gotten into my place, behind a stranger entering the building. I almost felt like a chicken-shit for being so shaken up since I knew if anybody tried breaking into my joint while I was home, I could take him down with one vicious punch. So maybe it was the exhaustion and rage that was making me sappy.

  When Smoke stepped inside, he quickly scanned the room. It had mostly been tidied up, so it probably didn’t look to him like anything had gone down. I hadn’t touched the bedroom yet. I didn’t want to fucking step foot in there. Not tonight.

  “So what the hell happened?” he asked after I shut the door behind him.

  “Someone got inside and ransacked my place,” I said. “I just got done cleaning most of it up.”

  “Anything stolen?” He looked pointedly at the television.

  “Nope,” I said and then walked over to the couch to finish adjusting the pillows.

  He stepped further into the room. “Then why…”

  “Knocked stuff around,” I said, motioning with my hand. “And in the bedroom…”

  “What?” he narrowed h
is eyes after I turned away from him and clenched my fists.

  “Go see for yourself.”

  He walked past me down the hall and threw open the door.

  “Well, fuck.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Smoke

  Was that piss I smelled?

  The nightstand drawer had been thrown open, and condoms were strewn on the floor and across the bed.

  I looked for the source of the stench and found it in the corner near the closet door. Something about the very act of it jabbed deep inside my gut.

  “Shit, Vaughn,” I said loud enough for him to hear. “This is really messed up.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know,” he said from the hallway, as if keeping his distance. I didn’t blame him. But this was his home, and for him to not feel comfortable here made rage swirl inside of me. “I don’t even want to go in there. What else did that fucker do? Rub his bare ass on my sheets?”

  No way in hell I’d tell him my suspicions and how close he might’ve been to the truth.

  “Is that why you were setting up to sleep on your couch?” I asked, backing out of the room.

  “Damn straight.” I heard him shuffling some things around, getting ready for some needed shuteye. If he was even able to sleep after all of this. “I’ll deal with the rest in the morning.”

  My phone chirped, and I fished it out of my pocket.

  “Hey Mal. Just got to Vaughn’s,” I said, knowing he’d want an update before he nodded off as well. “Someone broke in and wrecked the joint.”

  “His stuff stolen?” Mal asked.

  “No, not a thing,” I said in a disgusted voice.

  There was a long, drawn-out silence. Mal was familiar with these kind of stunts. This was more personal.

  “Was it somebody he knew?”

  I looked at Vaughn and saw the anger and despair brewing behind his gaze.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” I said.

  “You think it’s his affiliation with our club?” he asked. “You got a line on this one?”