THE DEVIL’S BRIDE

by April Lust

  Mick and Liam has gone out for me at different times to track down our rivals and see what information they could find. They were pretty persuasive when they wanted to be; they just couldn’t work together. I’d spoken with some of our partners, and I believed them when they told me all they’d heard were rumors that some of our deliveries had been short. No one knew anything about a thief hitting us, which also led me to believe it could have been an inside job.

  “Either that, or they’re all in on it and lying to our faces,” Liam growled.

  “Way to stay positive, old man,” Mick added.

  “No, for once, Liam is right, Mick. There’s always a possibility that some of the folks you’ve talked to were lying to us about this. I can’t believe everyone’s working together on this, but I would be surprised if it turned out that everyone was being completely honest with us. That would be a first.”

  I looked from Mick’s face to Liam’s. Mick’s expression went sour as soon as I said Liam could have been right. Liam looked like he was fighting the urge to turn around and stick his tongue out at Mick.

  “While we wait for the thief to show their face here at HQ, I want you all on high alert, like I said at the beginning of the meeting. We need eyes on all of our safe havens. I’ve got guards posted at every single one to make it look like we might have drugs there. If you hear or see anything suspicious, here, at a haven, or anywhere on the street, you call me immediately and let me know. We’ve got to catch this person before we start losing buyers because of their bullshit.”

  I slammed a fist on the table to let everyone know we were done. As the seven other senior members got up to leave, Mick hung back. We watched the suspicious eyes of the MC’s leadership cut towards us with suspicion as they left the room. We listened to the murmurs.

  “You’d better hope we find something soon,” Mick told me. “I don’t know how long they’re going to put up with this.”

  “Well, if my suspicions are correct, it won’t be long before our little thief tries to hit us,” I said, sitting down in my chair for the first time since the meeting began.

  “What are your suspicions?” Mick asked. He leaned over the table, his inked arms flexing, his dark brown beard hanging down. He tilted his shaved head, showing off the tribal ink wrapping around his bald skull. My right-hand man was a badass, and he knew it.

  “I’m pretty sure our thief is working on their own,” I started. When he scoffed at the idea, I continued. “If they are working for someone, it’s someone in the shadows, someone who’s been hiding out for a while, but I’m almost willing to put money on the lone wolf here.”

  “If you’re right, that would explain why no one knows about it,” Mick agreed.

  “Exactly, and wouldn’t it be some shit if this person was able to get by all of the watching eyes we have in the city?” I marveled. The thought of an independent rival, working only for themselves without a boss to answer to, was pretty thrilling. But it was also terrifying to think we were being had by someone who didn’t have to answer to anybody. That meant we would probably never find them.

  “It’s highly unlikely, Mason, and you know that. I’m willing to bet that at least one person has lied to us. We’re going to find out that this thief is working for someone, and we’ve already talked to someone in their organization. It’s not going to be a new boss. I can almost guarantee that,” Mick said.

  I knew he was probably right, but I wanted to believe. There was something really fascinating about the idea of a rogue agent out there doing their own work. Unfortunately, we weren’t living in a movie. This was the real world, and more often than not, people able to pull off what this thief was doing had the backing of one or more of the major crime lords.

  “Oh well, a fellow can dream, can’t he?” I laughed. “Too bad the days of the great lone outlaw are gone.”

  “You’re still a little kid sitting in front of the TV playing cowboys and Indians, aren’t you?” Mick joked with me.

  “I guess so. But tell me, which side are we?” I asked him.

  “We’re the outlaws. We’re neither the good guys nor the bad guys,” Mick answered.

  “I like that.” I leaned my chair back.

  “So, what’s the next step, boss?” Mick asked, still leaning on the table.

  “Well, now that everyone’s gone, I guess I’ll get my things and go sit downstairs while I wait for our guest of honor to show up for the drugs that aren’t here,” I told him.

  “You’re going to catch them yourself?” Mick asked, astonished that I wasn’t sending a group of guys downstairs to wait.

  “Of course I am. I want to be the first one to set eyes on our little thief. And if they don’t work for anyone, I’m going to offer them a job working for us,” I told him.

  While he stared at me with his jaw on the floor, I got up and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 2

  Clara

  The Storm’s Angels MC was headquartered in an old building they’d bought and converted into their HQ and clubhouse. At one point, the building had housed either another warehouse or some type of manufacturing plant. Unlike so many other buildings in the old industrial section of town, Storm’s Angels had renovated the building.

  The three-story brick structure was clean and well-lit. New windows had been placed in the arches in the brick façade. The garage doors in the old delivery bays were new, as well. There was a flag out front with the Storm’s Angels’ back patch on it. It was the It was a man dressed in leather, riding a motorcycle with lightning behind him. Underneath the rider and his bike was a frayed banner with Storm’s Angels burned into it.

  Even at night, there were lights on inside. Storm’s Angels never slept. I figured they had a use for each floor of the building, but I wasn’t sure what to expect once I got inside. Working for Skull, I wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with other local bosses. No one really liked Skull, and since I’d probably stolen from everyone, no one wanted to talk.

  So I had to resort to what I did best. I had to wing it.

  The key to my success was avoiding the light and staying in the shadows. As far as I was concerned, I was a shadow. I dressed all in black. I wore shoes with smooth soles that didn’t leave prints. I wore gloves and a ski mask at all times. Even my backpack was black. One thing I didn’t carry was a weapon. I didn’t want to give myself the option of getting caught and fighting my way out.

  I cased the joint first. I had to know where the entrances were, where the light fell around the building, and where the cameras and other security features were, among other things. I watched members come and go all night, starting with what looked like a meeting. A bunch of guys rode up on their motorcycles, riding into the building through the bay doors, which were then closed to hide and protect the bikes.

  I waited until they left a little while later. Then, I approached to get closer to the building. A few guys came and went all throughout the night. I figured there was still someone inside to act as security, along with whoever was keeping the lights on upstairs.

  There were cameras outside on the corners of the building, but after looking them over again and again, I realized there were no cameras facing the rear of the building. I moved to the rear door and found it unlocked. As I opened it, I checked to see if there were any wires or sensors, anything. The door was completely unguarded and unwatched.

  This must be where deals are made or where certain guests are accepted, I thought as I quietly stepped into the building. It still seemed odd to me that a door like that wouldn’t be locked.

  Regardless, I was in.

  The ground floor was open from wall to wall. There were thick columns that looked like they were supporting the upper floors, but there were no inside walls. A few bikes were parked on the concrete pad just behind the bay doors, so I could count and guess how many people were at HQ overnight.

  I crept around the room, looking for stairs or a door that would lead me downstairs. There were pool tables, da
rt boards, and TVs in the room. There was a bar along the opposite wall, and it looked well stocked. It was late enough that there was no one downstairs when I entered. I didn’t see any internal security measures either. They probably felt like they were their own security, I figured.

  I eventually made my way around the room and found an open stairwell next to the bar. I walked carefully, trying to keep the hardwood floor from creaking beneath my footsteps. I crept down the concrete stairs, my padded feet not making a sound, until I reached a large sliding door set back in the wall.

  My heart raced with adrenaline. My pulse echoed in my ears, and it felt loud enough to give me away. I put my hand on the handle to pull the door open and waited to listen for anyone who might have been waiting behind it. All I could hear was my breath. I waited for my breathing and pulse to calm down before doing anything else.

  I slid the door back, slowly at first, trying to be quiet, but the door could not be quiet as it slid into the wall.

  “Fuck it,” I said under my breath, and shoved the door the rest of the way open.

  I stepped into the concrete room underneath Storm’s Angels’ HQ. In the brief moment before the door rolled back into place behind me, I clearly saw there were no drugs waiting for me. The floor was bare, and darkness shrouded most of the room.

  “Shit.” I jumped as the door slammed behind me, leaving me in complete darkness. I knew at that moment I’d been caught in a trap. I knew Skull and I had been set up by his faulty intel.

  Then, out of the darkness came a voice.

  “Seems to me you were expecting to find something down here,” he said. “Well, you did find something, just not what you were looking for.”

  Light suddenly filled the basement, and I could see that the square concrete room was empty except for a chair and myself, and a stranger. He was a broad man with thick, muscular shoulders and arms. His wavy golden-brown hair was brushed back away from his clean-shaven, chiseled face. He stared at me with intense green eyes. He kept his arms crossed in front of his chest as he leaned against the wall.

  “Have a seat,” he said, nodding toward the chair in the center of the room.

  I didn’t budge. I needed to find a way out of the room. I needed to get away from the gorgeous man in front of me with the entrancing green eyes.

  “So, you’re the one who’s been stealing from me.” He pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards me.

  My heart raced. My mind screamed at me to move and to find a way out, but I was frozen with shock. I’d never been caught. In fact, I’d spent the last six months stealing drugs from Storm’s Angels without anyone ever seeing me. Yet my boss and I fell for the oldest trick in the book, faulty information planted on the street in order to catch someone.

  He grabbed my thin arm in his firm hand and held me still as he circled around behind me. I wondered if he’d noticed I was a woman yet, because I definitely noticed he was a man. His touch through my long black sleeves was electric. I felt my body quiver with desire for him almost immediately.

  “Sit down,” he barked, shoving me down against the chair.

  If he’d only known how much I liked to play rough! I grinned under my ski mask and considered getting up to fight back, but I thought it best to go ahead and take a seat as he’d insisted. I turned and sat with my back straight, staring up at the man with the beautiful green eyes. He didn’t look like just another lackey. He looked like a top member of the MC. He had a confidence about his expression and posture that wouldn’t have been present in someone beneath him.

  “Let me see who’s behind that mask,” he said, leaning over to remove it from my head.

  As the cloth revealed my face and let my blonde hair spill down from atop my head, I watched surprise register itself on his face. His jaw grew slack, and his eyes grew wide.

  “You’re a woman?” His voice roared in the small room.

  “You expected a man to be able to do what I do?” I asked him with a cocked eyebrow.

  He looked at the ski mask in his hand and back at my face. His shock slowly turned into anger.

  “Are you embarrassed?” I asked him.

  “You’ve caused a lot of problems for me,” he said lowly, fighting back a growl. I watched as his arms and fists flexed in an attempt to contain all the rage that was flowing through his body.

  I wished I could have offered him a better way to release all that pent up rage and frustration. It had been too long for me, and I was pretty sure it had been a while for him, too, judging by just how angry he was.

  “You’ve been shown up by a girl,” I teased, “but you caught me, so that’s something.”

  “I haven’t been shown up by anyone,” he barked in my face.

  I shrugged. He was close enough to kiss, and I thought I could see the desire shared in his face. I had to look away from him to keep from indulging in my little schoolgirl fantasy. It just would have made things worse to try to kiss the man I’d stolen so much from over the last six months.

  “You know, you’re the first person to catch me, so you should be proud of yourself.” It wasn’t entirely true. I’d allowed myself to get caught a few times before, but this was the first time it hadn’t been part of my original plan.

  “I’m honored,” he said sarcastically. “Now, look, I’ve got a few questions,” he said, starting to pace around me.

  “People usually do when they meet me. I guess you can fire away. I’ll tell you what I’ll tell you, and the rest, well, we’ll see.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  I sighed. Was he trying to establish a dating profile for me?

  “My name is Clara Burton. I’m a Sagittarius. My favorite color, despite my profession and attire, is green. When I’m not at work, I enjoy long walks, lounging around in my pajamas, and listening to music while I clean my apartment. I’m currently single, you know, since my lifestyle isn’t all that compatible to relationships. I barely graduated high school and never made it to college. Is there anything else you need to know?” I watched for his reaction, hoping my little outburst would piss him off enough to leave me alone.

  “Are you crazy? Who do you work for?” he asked.

  “My boss.”

  He levelled his eyes on me. They were a beautiful emerald green, and it was hard not to just spill everything out.

  “Who’s your boss?” he asked.

  I bit my lower lip. I wanted to tell him, “the guy I work for,” but I figured I was already pressing my luck. If he was who I thought he was, I’d heard stories about him, and pressing my luck with him wasn’t the wisest idea. But it was so much fun!

  “Who’s your boss?” he asked again, forcing his words out of his mouth. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a good shake against the back of the metal chair I sat in. “Who’s your boss?” he asked a third time.

  “I’m not going to tell you, so you can stop asking me.”

  “You bitch,” he said as he let go of me and stood back up.

  “So, can I go now?” I asked him.

  “No, you can’t go now.” He chuckled and shook his head. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned back in my face. “You know, I have ways of making people talk,” he threatened before standing up and walking way.

  Chapter 3

  I let the man tie me down to the chair. I waited while he rummaged around on a workbench for tape and rope. I didn’t get up. I didn’t make for the door. I waited for my captor to return. I figured that since I wasn’t able to find any drugs, allowing myself to be captured and tied to a chair would give me the opportunity to gather more information from whoever was questioning me.

  Part of why I didn’t run while he was getting ready to tie me up was because it wouldn’t have done any good. Where would I have gone? I couldn’t go back to Skull and tell him I was empty-handed because I’d been caught by Mason’s Angels. That wouldn’t have worked out very well for me.

  “Do you know who I am?” the man asked as he
wrapped the rope around my wrists and waist.

  I almost missed the question as I watched him. He wasn’t rough with me. He didn’t wrap the rope too tightly around my wrists or my chest. He was almost tender in the way he strapped me into the chair. The way he knelt down in front of me seemed so trusting and submissive. I almost forgot I was really his prisoner. It felt more like some sort of roleplay.

  “My name is Mason Crawley,” he said, looking up at me with his green eyes and hardened face.

  I sighed. I should have known. He didn’t seem like the type who would have taken orders from anyone.

  “I wanted to catch you myself,” he explained as he stood back up.