Wicked Games: MC Romance (Bayou Devils MC Book 8)

by A. M. Myers

  “Fuck,” he snarls, his face the picture of rage as he pulls me tighter into his body. He’s shaking and his heart is racing against my ear and I grip his t-shirt, clinging to him with everything I have. Storm, Blaze, and Lincoln step out of Blaze’s office and Blaze whistles to get everyone’s attention.

  “We can’t stay here anymore.”

  Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room.

  “I’m going to call Rodriguez and get us an escort out of here but y’all need to go pack and we need to be quick. Understand?”

  My mind is blank as his words slip in one ear and race out of the other. A chill descends over me as I turn to look out of the window, trying to put all of the pieces together but it’s like someone dumped a hundred different puzzles in a bag and I can’t find any that fit. Travis grabs my arms and gives me a little shake, forcing me to focus on him as he meets my eyes.

  “Go pack your stuff, baby, and I’ll be down in just a minute, okay?”

  I nod on autopilot and when he releases me to go to his own bedroom, I walk across the bar as chaos rages around me. Flames dance in the window as I pass by it and it feels like something out of a dream. I lean my shoulder against the wall in the hallway and close my eyes, remembering the cocktail hitting the ground right in front of me and tears sting my eyes. When I open them again, I lightly slap my face and suck in a breath.

  “Get it together, Rowan.”

  I take a few seconds to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down and when I feel more in control, I push off of the wall and slip into my room. Moving through the room like a tornado, I throw things into my bags haphazardly, not even checking if things are clean before I shove them into my luggage and when it seems like I have everything, I zip my bags closed and carry them out into the main room. Travis is back at the bar, two bags at his feet as he chugs some whiskey straight from the bottle.

  Excellent.

  “I know this looks bad,” he says, glancing over at me when I stop next to him and drop my stuff on the floor. I arch a brow.

  “You think?”

  He nods and takes another swig. “Thing is, I was already too tipsy to safely drive so this seemed like the best thing I could do.”

  Sighing, I decide not to argue with him about it when we clearly have much bigger things to worry about. The move is dumb as hell and unreasonable but if he was already well on his way to drunk before shit hit the fan, which he was, I can’t expect him to think rationally. He offers me some and I shake my head. He may not be able to drive but I can and it’s going to stay that way.

  “Any idea where we’re going to go?”

  He shrugs. “Someone suggested Emma and Nix’s house since it’s fucking massive and already secured.”

  “Why is it secured?” I ask and he takes another drink before slamming the bottle back down on the bar with a wince. His eyes look glassy and I sigh. Jesus, he’s so far gone already.

  “We use their house sometimes to keep the girls we rescue safe until we can move them so Blaze ordered that we make it as safe as we can for them,” he says before grabbing the bottle again. “They have cameras, perimeter fences, motion detecters… the works.”

  I nod, turning to gaze out over the clubhouse as people frantically try to pack everything we could possibly need and my heart climbs into my throat when I hear the sound of glass breaking again. This clubhouse, which has felt so safe since the moment I got here, now feels as dangerous as the other side of the fence and I don’t want to be here another second longer than we have to. After a few more minutes, Blaze steps into the room and whistles again.

  “Okay, Rodriguez will be here momentarily with the fire department so let’s get all this shit packed into cars and get out of here.”

  I turn to Travis and hold out my hand. “Give me your keys.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answers, digging them out of his pocket and dropping them into my hand before he stands up with his bottle and stumbles. My muscles tense, ready to react if I have to but he catches himself and takes a deep breath as he stands up straight.

  “Do we really need to bring that?” I ask, pointing to the bottle as I grab my bags and he glances down at it before nodding.

  “Yeah, we do. I’m being run out of my home by a psychopath. He brought these people here and made them hate us so this is all his fault… you know?”

  I nod, my heart breaking for him as I wrap my arm around his waist. “Yeah, I know, baby.”

  “You need help with anything, Row?” Lincoln asks, stopping next to me and glaring at Travis as he leans against me. I sigh and nod.

  “Could you grab his bags?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Is he fucking drunk?”

  “He is,” Travis answers, holding up the bottle of booze. “Because, fuck you, Warren. That’s why.”

  “Jesus Christ. Just get him to his car and I’ll get the bags,” Lincoln mutters, flashing Travis a look of disappointment but I don’t hang around long enough for him to start berating him, not that it would do any good at this point. Since I’ve been here, I’ve noticed that, as time passed, there was this edge to Travis’s demeanor and I know he’s been so stressed trying to save all of us from Warren but it feels like more than that. The problem is, I’ve been too afraid to ask, too afraid to upset the good thing he and I have going.

  When we get out to the Impala, I open the passenger door and help him inside before running around the hood and slipping behind the wheel and starting it. Glancing down the lot, I see Lincoln loading all of our bags into his truck and nod, checking one thing off of my list before rolling my window down to listen to instructions. Red and blue lights bounce off of the clubhouse followed by the “whoop” of a siren and I glance down as four police cruisers pull to a stop outside of the gate and the officers jump out. As they begin to push the crowd back, I scan the area and frown. Where the hell did the other officers go? The ones that have been posted out there day and night since this all started to keep everyone safe.

  Two officers jump back into their squad cars and flip a U-turn in opposite directions to act as a barrier between us and the crowd as Blaze stands in front of us and motions for us to move out. He runs over to his bike and as the deep rumble of the engine fills the air, Rodriguez punches the code into the lock and slides the gate open. We move out, one by one, and when it’s my turn, I slip behind Fuzz and Piper’s Bronco as Travis sighs from the passenger seat. I glance over at him.

  “What?”

  Peeking over at me, he takes a sip of his whiskey before turning away from me and shaking his head. “You’re amazing, you know?”

  “No, I didn’t know,” I answer, fighting back a smile as I eye the bottle in his hand. He’s really fucking going for broke tonight and my gaze flicks back up to his face, trying to understand the emotion that flickers through his eyes.

  “You’re fire, baby… like, for real.”

  I arch a brow. “Thank you… I think.”

  “This isn’t coming out right,” he growls, scrubbing his hand down his face and I glance out of my window to hide my smile. Fuck. I want to be mad at him for getting drunk when shit was seriously going to hell but he’s just so damn cute right now that I can’t. Turning back to him, I flash a pointed look at the whiskey bottle.

  “Maybe we should just have this conversation when you’re sober.”

  “No,” he growls. “I’m just trying to say that… there is all of this shit around me… like a fucking hurricane of bad shit but then there’s you and with you… it’s all calm and I can breathe. I think… I… fuck, I don’t know…”

  My mind races, replaying everything he just said to me again and again as I try to sort it all out into something intelligible and figure out what he’s really trying to say but I don’t want to read into anything. Not when I have too much on the line. The Impala slips out onto the street and the screaming of the protestors floods the cab as my heart climbs into my throat. Just before we turn, I glance over and meet Warren’s eyes as he sta
nds on the edge of the crowd, watching us leave. The stupid white mask is completely covering his face, like always, but I swear he’s smiling at me and it chills me to the bone as my heart thunders in my chest.

  “Rowan, I need to tell you something…”

  I peek over at Travis again. “Okay.”

  “He’s been calling me… calling me and torturing me. He said I couldn’t tell anyone but it’s killing me and I don’t want to die… but I can’t lose you either. Oh, fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he whispers, an ache in his voice so potent that tears sting my eyes as I glance between his tortured face and the road. Groaning, he scrubs his hand down his face and shakes his head, clearly wrestling with what he just said. It breaks my fucking heart.

  “What do you mean you don’t want to lose me, Travis?”

  He rolls his head to the side and meets my eyes. “He’s going to kill us all… he told me and he’s going to take you from me. He said you caught his eye… but I won’t let him have you because you’re mine, right? You said you were mine last night.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, nodding as my heart hammers in my chest and I grip the wheel tighter as my hands shake. “I’m yours, Travis.”

  Just when I think I’ve reached the bottom of the “what the fuck” barrel when it comes to Warren, I manage to find a new low and I can’t help but worry how much more we could all lose before this is over. But then, there is another part that wonders if there is no end to this. Maybe this hell is just our lives now and there is no escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Warren

  “Yes,” I hiss, my chest feeling light as air as the roar of a bike engine fills the air. A wide smile stretches across my face and my body vibrates as I punch my fist into the air. Rain splatters against my face but I don’t even give a shit anymore. I’m soaking wet but it doesn’t matter when everything is falling into place exactly the way I wanted it to and it’s especially fortunate since this is the one part of my plan where things could have gone epically wrong.

  But it didn’t.

  Clearly, fate, God, or the universe is on my side in this mission and I laugh to myself as I think about how I put all of this together. For years, I’ve been working on making very realistic looking fake profiles all over the internet so after I posted the fake videos of the guys on the website I made for them, all I had to do was comment that we should protest the club and, voila , people showed up outside the clubhouse in droves, ready to fight for their city. Once I started standing out there with them, it was easy enough to stoke the flames and spread fear through the crowd about how dangerous the club is and once that fear was behind the wheel, a well-timed joke about Molotov cocktails inspired a few of them to take action. It’s gorgeous the way it all pieced together, actually, and I’m pretty damn proud of myself for what I’ve already been able to accomplish.

  I gotta say, watching the brothers and their old ladies slowly go mad from being cooped up in that building with each other while the protest raged on outside was the best part of my day. Fuck, they still don’t even know about the first time I broke into the club a little over a year ago and planted hidden cameras all over the place, hidden cameras that have allowed me to keep an eye on everything they’re doing without the risk of getting caught. Chuckling, I shake my head. It’s actually surprising just how easy it is to get your hands on tiny little cameras hidden in all sorts of things like clocks, tissue boxes, water bottles, picture frames, smoke detectors, and so much more. And when I couldn’t find a replacement item online, it was easy enough to modify the things already in the clubhouse so that I could hide a camera in it. I’ve been watching their every move for so goddamn long and they didn’t have a fucking clue. Not until I insinuated as much to Streak and even that gave me endless entertainment as I watched him try to figure out how I was watching them. He must have run diagnostic checks on his computer and the security system every day for a week and I laughed my ass off each time with a bowl of popcorn in my lap.

  The growl of the bike creeps closer, snapping me out of my thoughts and I slip behind a tree as Blaze leads the caravan of vehicles into the driveway of Emma and Nix’s plantation house. I despise this place but I’m glad they chose to come here because this is another point where my whole plan could have gone up in smoke. Emma and Nix’s house is pretty well secured but I was able to scope it out weeks ago when Blaze ordered everyone to the clubhouse, in the hopes that they would come here when shit went down, and I know my way around their security system. It’s honestly almost perfect but there are a few blind spots that will allow me to move around the property without being detected which is good since I don’t have cameras inside. Sure, the best-case scenario would have been to keep them at the clubhouse where I had unlimited access to them with my cameras. The thing is, I was actually growing bored with how easy this has all been so having them here will present new challenges.

  But I’m up to the task.

  “Let’s move, y’all!” Blaze hollers as he swings his leg over his bike and scans the area. Everyone else files out of their cars, their eyes wide and their faces pale. I can’t help but smile. Fuck. I love seeing the mayhem I’ve caused in their lives and the fear pumping through their veins as they think of me. Blaze lets out a shrill whistle to gain everyone’s attention, his shoulders tight and his eyes narrowed into a glare as he continues scanning the yard. “Let’s move, people. I don’t want to be standing out here for too long.”

  They all nod in agreement and he points to Storm, Kodiak, and Moose.

  “Grab guns and do a perimeter check. Make sure we’re truly safe here.”

  Storm nods, pulling a pistol from the waistband of his jeans. “On it, boss.”

  Shit.

  That means it’s time for me to go.

  Everyone springs into action, bustling around the driveway to get all of their things hauled into the house as I watch from my hiding spot. Storm, Kodiak, and Moose start off for the other side of the property to start their sweep, giving me a few more precious moments as I soak in the chaos. The voice in my head that demands justice, the one that is constantly screaming at me to take immediate action is silent tonight. Maybe it’s because he’s temporarily satisfied with their suffering or maybe it’s because he knows this next part is going to destroy them and he’s just as excited to watch it all fall apart as I am. Finally, after all of this time and all of this work, I’m going to get the justice we deserve and I’m downright fucking giddy.

  Rowan steps out of Streak’s Impala and my gaze snaps to hers in an instant as my cock springs to life with just one look at her. Shit. She looks damn good tonight in her tight little jeans and fitted hoodie but it’s the pink mesh bra and panty set I know she’s wearing underneath that is making me crazy. So many nights, I’ve laid in bed and watched her with Streak, giving him everything I want from her as fantasies of gutting him and fucking her on top of the remains filled my mind. She was never part of the plan and another instance where this whole thing could have been derailed if I wasn’t so damn good but I managed to make it all work and when this is all over, I won’t be satisfied unless I have her under my arm as we watch the Devils burn. As she looks around the property, I swear she can feel me here with her – that ache in her chest and the current that races over her skin giving me away – and I glance over at the guys doing a sweep before whispering a curse. They are getting close to my hiding spot and it’s time to go. Taking one last look at my girl, I smile and blow her a kiss.

  “Soon, baby girl,” I whisper before turning and creeping back through the forest, away from her, without a sound. It’s time for act two and if they think everything up until now has been bad, they aren’t ready for what is coming next. I’m going to dig my claws into this club, feel the blood seep over my skin, and tear it apart.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rowan

  Birds sing sweetly somewhere off in the distance and early morning sunlight streams in through the windows, the cheeriness of it all s
uch a stark contrast from the nightmares that tormented me all night long, as I pad down the stairs in desperate need of coffee.

  “Morning,” Tate calls as I step into the kitchen and I nod, rubbing at my tired eyes. She takes one look at my face and snorts out a laugh as she points to the coffee pot. “Coffee?”

  I nod. “You’re an angel.”

  “Well, if that’s all it takes.” She laughs, turning back to the counter as she fiddles with the pen in her hand. There is a notepad laid on the counter in front of her and I scowl as I grab a mug from the shelf above the coffee pot and fill it up with sweet, sweet caffeine.

  “How did you sleep?” Emma asks and I glance over my shoulder at her, nodding as I think back over the last twelve hours. After we got here last night, everyone made quick work of bringing all of the luggage inside and making sure the house and surrounding property were secure before Emma started handing out room assignments. She put Travis and me together in the room at the top of the stairs with white shiplap walls and a giant king-sized bed with a black metal bedframe that felt so homey. Lincoln wasn’t too pleased about the sleeping arrangements and with just one look at my big brother, I could see that it’s taking every ounce of restraint he has to keep his promise to me and not tell Travis the truth about my feelings for him but he’s worried about me.

  “Good.”

  She smiles. “Good. Streak still sleeping?”

  “Yeah,” I scoff, carrying my mug with two hands as I shuffle over to the massive island in the middle of the room and sit next to Tate. “He finished off one and a half bottles of whiskey last night so he’s probably going to be out for a while.”

  “He okay?” Tate asks, arching a brow and I sigh, remembering the way he stumbled into our room last night with the second bottle of liquor in his hand and collapsed onto the bed. He didn’t pass out for a while, though. Instead, we just laid there for hours talking. He told about the three phone calls he received from Warren but he kept it pretty vague when I asked what Warren had said to him - just telling me that he usually spent his time taunting Travis with his inability to find him and threatening to start killing people if he told anyone about the calls. He also mentioned that Warren had taken a liking to me. When I balked, he assured me that Warren’s interest was nothing more than another side game to get at him but I can’t help but be worried. “Rowan?”