THE DEVIL’S BRIDE

by April Lust

  She slowly tried to sit up. It took her the better part of a minute to get to her feet. She cringed as the night’s events came back to her. How was she going to get the money from their father if she wasn’t allowed to leave town? There was no way Nathan would ever make the trip out—Fiona might have been able to lie or guilt him into giving them the money if she were right in front of him, but getting him to care enough to make an eight-hour ride to Chicago? Never gonna happen.

  Even worse, now that Niko had taken off in her car, Fiona had to figure out how to make an extra four grand to replace the money she had been expecting to get from the car.

  She only had one option left, it seemed. Ace. How the hell am I supposed to get a gang leader to help me? One who is a complete stranger, to boot, Fiona wondered. They had no money, nothing of any value. Borrowing the money from Ace would most likely mean they would just end up in this same situation in six months’ time, except instead of being tortured and killed by a Russian mobster, she could be tortured and killed by a fat, unwashed biker.

  She needed to figure out something else, but nothing was coming to her. Her brain was completely tapped of ideas. It ran sluggishly, endlessly repeating one question: how was she going to convince Ace to take care of Alexei for her? Fiona kicked her leg out in frustration, striking a cupboard door. Pain shot up her leg where Alexei had kicked her, and bled into her side. She bit her lip against the hurt.

  Suddenly, Fiona’s eyes flew open. Melanie. If Fiona knew anyone who knew anything about bikers, it would be Melanie. Fiona scrambled over to her phone as fast as she could. Thankfully, it had withstood most of the damage Alexei and his men had done to the place, and there was only a small crack in the screen. Fiona quickly dialed Melanie’s number.

  “Hello?” Melanie said groggily, finally answering after what seemed like an eternity.

  “Melanie!” Fiona cried. “Thank god you answered. I need your help.”

  Fiona heard Melanie fumbling around in the background. “It’s two in the fucking morning, Fiona. What could you possibly need my help with?” In a quieter voice, away from the phone, Melanie told someone to go back to sleep.

  “Please, Melanie, just know it’s important,” she pleaded.

  “Okay, okay,” Melanie grumbled. “I’ll be right over once I get rid of this guy.”

  Fiona hung up and looked around her place. Was there any point in trying to clean up before Melanie came over? She tried to bend over and put her standing plant upright, and her ribs felt like they were on fire, so she quickly stopped, dropping the plant back down to the ground.

  She fell onto the sofa, and a million little bits of fluff flew into the air, shooting out from the two or three dozen bullet holes that peppered the couch. Fiona dozed fitfully until she heard a car pull up. She sat up, ignoring the pain as best she could, then gently laid back down when she realized it was Melanie.

  “The door is open,” she called, hearing Melanie walk up the drive. It was pretty easy to hear everything due to all of the front windows being shot out.

  Melanie entered slowly, astonishment written all over her face. “What the goddamn fucking hell happened here, Fiona?” she cried. Seeing her friend on the couch, she rushed over, trembling when she saw Fiona’s bruises. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Fiona told her, wincing as she sat up again.

  “You are clearly not fine,” Melanie said, watching Fiona struggle. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  Fiona shook her head furiously. “No. No hospitals. It’s okay. I got off light, relatively speaking.” She looked out the window and noticed the dead man in the street was now gone.

  Melanie looked at her. “Light? You’re telling me that whatever happened here,” she said, gesturing around her, “you got off light?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you,” Fiona said firmly.

  “Then you’d better fucking tell me what happened,” Melanie said. “Now. Or I’m calling you an ambulance.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Fiona begged her. “I’ll tell you, just…let me catch my breath for a minute.” Everything had happened so fast, it was difficult for Fiona to put it together chronologically.

  Finally, she cleared her throat and gave Melanie the long and short of it, trying to downplay her brother’s role in the situation as much as possible. She didn’t want another lecture from Melanie about how Niko was bad news.

  “So, you want to walk into the home of the second baddest guy in town, empty-handed, and ask him to take out the first baddest guy in town as what? A favor to you and your idiot brother?” Melanie said sarcastically. “Is that it? Do I have the gist? Are you fucking crazy?”

  “Hey!” Fiona snapped, tired of being attacked for her risky plans. “If you have a few grand lying around that you’d like to donate to the cause, or an idea, you should have said something. Otherwise, maybe stop being so goddamn critical and help me!” Pain stabbed at Fiona’s ribs as she yelled. She winced, holding her side.

  Melanie sat next to her on the couch, quiet. “Okay, no,” she admitted. “I don’t have any better suggestions, and I’m broke as fuck. So how can I help?”

  Fiona bit her lip, thinking hard. “I don’t know,” she confessed, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Melanie! I can’t think of anything! How can I convince this guy to help me?”

  “It’s all right,” Melanie said soothingly, hugging Fiona gently, taking care of her injuries. “We’ll come up with something together, okay? If nothing else, I’ll be right there by your side when you walk into the lion’s den.”

  Fiona sobbed into her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so scared, Melanie. They’re going to kill us.”

  “Hey,” Melanie said, reaching down to pick up a towel scrap that was on the floor, using it to wipe Fiona’s tears. “That’s not going to happen. We are going to figure this out.”

  Melanie stood up, holding both of her hands out to Fiona. “Come on. I think I have an idea. But first, we need to clean you up.”

  Fiona took Melanie’s hands, gingerly pulling herself up. Melanie helped her to the bathroom and cleaned her cuts as best she could. Fiona had a split lip, and what looked like the beginnings of a black eye, as well as an impressive array of bruises that covered her midsection. The spot where Alexei had kicked her in the ribs was already turning black.

  “I’m really worried that you have internal bleeding,” Melanie said.

  “You’re wasting your breath,” Fiona told her as Melanie dabbed hydrogen peroxide on her cuts. “The hospital is going to ask too many questions. They’re going to get the police involved, and I already told you why that can’t happen.”

  “Okay, okay,” Melanie muttered. “No hospital. But if you pass out, I will call an ambulance. There,” she said, stepping away from Fiona, “you’re all patched up. Excluding your fractured rib and probable concussion, of course,” Melanie added mockingly.

  “Thanks, Melanie. I feel better already,” Fiona said, smiling gratefully at her friend. “So, what’s your idea?”

  “It depends,” Melanie said, looking Fiona up and down. “How much leather do you own?”

  Chapter 3

  Ace leaned back in the wooden chair and rested his cold beer on his thigh. The Crabtree was packed tonight, and the room seemed to practically vibrate with energy. The number of gangs in the area, and the number of members themselves, had dropped considerably since the Russians had come to town, but you wouldn’t know it looking at the place right now. The music thudded in his ears as he watched The Hell Brothers enjoy themselves.

  “Look at Smalls,” Katie said next to him, nodding towards a large man with a long blond-gray ponytail.

  Smalls’ cheeks were ruddy; he was in a drinking race, his massive paw gripping the base of a pitcher of beer as he gulped down its contents, tiny rivulets running down his long, greying beard. He took his last swallow and won, laughing as he held the glass pitcher aloft. Smalls slammed the glass down on th
e table in victory, sending cracks all through the pitcher’s base.

  Smalls looked at the broken glass guiltily. Shoving himself away from the table, he picked his way through the crowd with his head hung low. He called over Blake, the bar’s owner, and rather abashedly handed over the pitcher, along with a twenty-dollar bill.

  Ace smiled a small smile to himself. Smalls was the biggest man in The Hell Brothers, at a couple inches over six feet tall, and almost five feet around, yet he was one of the gentlest men he knew. Smalls had joined the gang to follow in his older brother’s—and idol’s—footsteps, and remained after his brother died in a tragic motorcycle accident to honor his memory. Though Smalls was only in his forties, the members of The Hell Brothers liked to joke that he was a dinosaur leftover from the heydays of biker gangs.

  “He’s having a good time,” Ace said, taking a pull from his beer. The dim light shone on his hand; his knuckles were tattooed, spelling out, Never 4give.

  Katie snorted softly, shaking her head. Her long, black, wavy hair had thick blonde streaks in it and hung past her shoulders. She flicked it back, annoyed. “We should be planning right now, not playing silly drinking games.”

  Ace looked at her out of the corner of his eye. The first thing anyone would say when they saw Katie was that she was incredibly gorgeous. Part Egyptian, Katie had beautiful, regal features, with a prominent nose and golden-olive skin. Ace knew most people looking at her would notice her figure, which was soft and lean in all the right places, and fail to see her capabilities, which were many.

  Smalls was technically Ace’s second-in-command, but it was Katie who often came up with most of the ideas that kept the gang alive. Ace would promote her, but he was fucking her, and that wouldn’t sit right with the gang. Katie understood, though. She put the gang first, which was why she continued to help, even if she couldn’t have the title she deserved. She even refused the title of his old lady, wanting to be seen as more than a back-warmer within the gang.

  “Did you hear me?” she said, poking his side.

  Ace sighed and sat up, scanning the bar. He saw Smalls, but if they were going to talk about the gang’s options, he needed the rest of the higher-ups as well. Spotting Riley and Diego, Ace let out a sharp whistle; they were next two in the chain of command, respectively.

  Riley, a handsome man with skin blacker than the dead of night, immediately stood up, leaving his pool game. Stopping suddenly, he turned back and grabbed a short Hispanic man wearing a wife-beater who was hitting on Lucky, another member of The Hell Brothers, for the thousandth time. Diego had yet to have any luck with her, or any other woman, but from what Ace could tell, that didn’t seem to stop him from trying.

  Ace shook his head. Diego was always chasing women. It was his only weakness, if you didn’t count booze, drugs, cigarettes, or thrill-seeking. “Have a seat,” he said as the two men approached, kicking out a chair. “We need to talk.”

  Smalls lumbered over, settling into a wooden chair with a creak. “What are we talking about?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette. Diego nudged Smalls and bummed one off of him.

  “Alexei,” Riley said in a deep voice. “Right?” he looked at Ace.

  “We got lucky with Jackson,” Katie said, confirming Riley’s guess. “But Ace isn’t going to be able to outmaneuver Alexei like that every time. Eventually he’s going to get tired of this little back-and-forth he has going on with The Hell Brothers, and he’s going to come for us.” Her dark eyes snapped to each face at the table, commanding their attention.

  “Katie’s right, guys,” Ace said, signaling Blake for another beer. “I figure we have about a month before Alexei decides to come at us with everything he has. Unless someone does something incredibly stupid to speed that along,” he said warningly, looking at Diego. He had a reputation for being a bit reckless.

  “I swear,” Diego crossed his heart, “you will see nada from me.” Katie snorted disbelievingly and Diego put his hand to his heart again, this time as though wounded. “Mi amor, my love, why do you hurt me this way?”

  “Can we focus?” Katie said, ignoring Diego. “Ace? A little help here?” She nudged their leader, who, judging by his face, had completely checked out of the conversation.

  ***

  “This was a bad idea, Melanie,” Fiona said, panicking. “They’re going to know we’re lying!”

  It hadn’t taken too long to find The Crabtree—they just followed the deafening sound of motorcycles. Okay, not really. They had used Google Maps, but the closer they got to the establishment, Fiona had to resist covering her ears against the noise.

  Last night, after Melanie had come over to Fiona’s house, they had gone back to Melanie’s place, where Fiona promptly passed out for several hours. When she awoke, she worked with Melanie to come up with what Fiona was now realizing was a very, very stupid plan.

  Niko had mentioned that The Hell Brothers weren’t the only gang having problems with Alexei. So, Melanie suggested they pretend to be members of another dwindling gang from the outskirts of Chicago. It wasn’t much, but perhaps if they could pass as fellow bikers, their plea might carry more weight.

  Melanie pulled out every piece of leather Fiona had in her closet, which turned out to be a single pair of boots.

  “Really?” Melanie had said to her, holding up the bright, yellow galoshes. “This is it?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Fiona had replied to her sarcastically, “Had I known this was going to happen I would’ve asked Catwoman if I could borrow some of her clothes.”

  “Wrong kind of leather,” Melanie had corrected her. “It’s okay, though. I have some stuff you can wear.”

  Fiona had nervously tugged at the vest Melanie lent her the entire drive to the bar. Melanie was significantly smaller than Fiona, and the vest barely buttoned over her chest. At Melanie’s insistence, she left the remaining buttons on the top open, exposing her tan, toned skin.

  Melanie had put on a pair of black shorts, thigh high leather boots, and a tight black tank top that stopped just below her navel. The idea was that hopefully if they looked the part, everyone would be too concerned about Alexei to ask too many questions.

  They’re just bikers, Fiona had reasoned with herself. How smart can they possibly be?

  They had decided to park the car a few blocks away as Melanie’s Prius might have blown their cover as old ladies from a motorcycle gang. Walking into the bar, Fiona had done her best to put on her game face as both her and her brother’s lives were on the line, but looking around at the kind of debauchery going on, she began to have serious doubts.

  “They’re not going to know unless you keep standing there, staring!” Melanie hissed. “Stop looking like you’ve never seen someone do heroin before and move!” She tugged on Fiona’s elbow sharply, almost sending her to the floor.

  Fiona tried to look as aloof as possible as the two women made their way to the bar. It was a little difficult considering she was terrified she was going to burst out of Melanie’s vest at any moment.

  “What can I get you ladies?” the bartender asked, drying a beer mug with a stained rag.

  Melanie glanced back at Fiona, who froze, and said nothing. “Two specials, please,” Melanie ordered.

  Fiona took a quick look at the board hanging behind the bar. Underneath Tonight’s Special was a drink named Hawg Ear, which apparently consisted of a mixture of dark beer and rum. It was disgusting, but Fiona didn’t care. She gulped down a third of it, desperate for the false courage.

  Melanie arched a brow, but didn’t say anything, and took a liberal swallow from her own glass. Pulling out her wallet, Melanie paid the bartender. “Could you help us with one other thing?” she asked.

  “Depends,” the bartender replied, picking up another mug to dry.

  “We’re looking for someone named Ace, the leader of The Hell Brothers.”

  The woman frowned, a lock of blonde hair falling into her face. “What do you want with him?”

  “My fri
end needs to talk to him,” Melanie replied evasively.

  The blonde woman shrugged, uncaring, and nodded towards a large wooden table in the center of the room. “Shaggy brown hair, in the black t-shirt and leather vest,” she told them.

  Fiona managed to mutter a thank you, and they stepped away from the bar to plan their approach.

  “So, you’ll go up to him, and—”

  “Wait,” Fiona interrupted. “Why do I have to go?” she protested.

  “Because it’s your brother,” Melanie said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve brought you this far; you have to do the rest.”