Brutal Beast (Vicious Vipers MC Book 5)

by Lynn Burke

  His lips stretched into a full-on grin, sending that ache through my chest again, and I clasped his shoulder tight. Emotion, not a fucking heart tick ran through my chest. I felt hurt and happiness at the same time. Best fucking feeling in the world.

  “Finish up this set, then it’s onto the bag. Gonna work your ass hard today.”

  “Bring it.”

  His grin eased me a bit, and the simple Thank you text that came through to my cell an hour or so after I sent his spent ass home made things almost right in the world.

  But there were still some things that needed put straight. I couldn’t do anything about the Michelle/Mila situation until she let me in, but taking care of those punk bullies I could make happen in my own time.

  Devil had some digging to do first, though, since I wasn’t about to take a step, guns blazing, without preparing first.

  I wondered over Dillon asking me about my road name and the fact he’d spilled his damn guts right after learning I took the law into my own hands. Did he hope I would do something about his situation? He had to know I would—and I did.

  ****

  The next afternoon, Ryker, Stone, and Warden had my back as I walked up to the Walsh’s front door like I owned their goddamn mansion. Sure, he had money, but he had no connections to protect him from the real law in town.

  I fucking missed having Ricky at my side, but there was no room for emotions on that day. Locking that shit up tight in my heart, I knocked on the Walsh’s front door.

  His face paled when he pulled it open.

  “Your punk ass son around, Walsh?”

  He straightened and had the balls to cross his arms and attempt to look down his nose at me even though the pallor of his skin revealed the quaking inside his guts. “What do you want with Ryan?”

  “I don’t want a goddamn thing with him other than a few words,” I said, my voice laced with venom. A lie, but I’d already set up a shit storm to go into play for the kid if things didn’t go my way.

  Walsh glanced at my brothers behind me as though weighing his chances of standing up to us and surviving. “What’d he do?”

  “Picked on the wrong kid.”

  “Goddamn it.” Lips pursed, Walsh shook his head as though pissed, surprising the fuck out of me. “Light into him all you want with words and set him straight for me, Capello, but if you so much as touch a hair on his head, I’ll bury you myself.”

  “Like you tried to do once before?” I snorted, trying like fuck to keep my surprise over his demand off my face.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as red flushed his cheeks. “Ry!” he hollered over his shoulder.

  “What?” the punk shot back from somewhere in the house with annoyance and complete disrespect in his voice.

  “You’ve got company!”

  Ryan made it halfway down the stairs before lifting his head and catching sight of us. His feet stalled out and he glanced at his father, licking his lips like we dried his mouth the fuck out. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Frank Capello here wishes to have a word.” Walsh motioned him down the stairs, and Ryan started moving again, hesitant and wary as fuck.

  “Dillon Evans,” I shot out as he stood beside his father, unable to hold my gaze even though we stood eye to eye, the pansy-assed fucking twig.

  “What about him?” Ryan grumbled.

  “He and his mother are under our protection. You fuck with him, you fuck with us.”

  The punk gulped.

  “You bullying that boy?” his father asked, his scowl almost as deep as mine felt grooving my forehead.

  Ryan opened his mouth, but snapped it shut without attempting to defend himself.

  Not so big a man now, cocksucker, are you?

  “Why don’t you tell dear old dad here about the black eye Dillon is sporting,” I growled, crossing my arms and glaring even though he wouldn’t look at me.

  “Ryan Williams Walsh the third!” his father snipped, fire in his voice.

  Ryan looked at his father, alright, nearly pissing himself, the pussy fuck.

  “I’m about tired of you tarnishing our name and bailing your ass out, son,” Walsh hissed. “One fucking thing after another.” He shook his head, and his son at least lowered his gaze. “Get the fuck back up to your room, Ry, before I let Vigil and his brothers here loose on your ass like you deserve. And you can forget about that party tomorrow night!”

  Ryan turned without a word, moving a hell of a lot faster up the stairs than he’d descended.

  “You so much as speak a goddamn word to Dillon,” I shot out after him, “you and all the rest of your little band of brothers, and you’ll be wishing you’d only miss a party.”

  “Get the fuck upstairs,” his dad barked as Ryan tripped, and the punk obeyed like the devil himself jabbed his backside with a pitchfork.

  Walsh turned back toward me, losing the frown and the haughty stance. “He’s been on the wrong path for some time. Seems he and his friends are testing the waters to see how much shit they can get away with. School called me twice this week threatening to expel him if I didn’t straighten him out. He obviously doesn’t respect my ass—hopefully you just put the fear of God in him.”

  I hadn’t gone to Walsh’s home to do him any favors, but as long as Ryan and his friends left Dillon alone, Walsh could think whatever the fuck he wanted.

  I leaned closer, keeping my eyes hard as fuck. Unwavering. “I know about Becca Lamont.”

  Walsh paled again.

  “There isn’t much that goes on in this town we don’t know about,” I told him, keeping my voice low. “I had a little chat with her this morning—her and her parents—but they don’t want any trouble since she managed to survive that botched abortion you paid for.”

  Walsh blinked, without doubt wondering how the fuck I knew.

  It paid to have an IT hacker geek as an officer.

  “I set a few things into motion to take Ryan down, Walsh. Him and his little band of gang-banging brothers.” Ryker growled under his breath behind me, but Walsh held my stare, gaining a shred of respect from me atop how he’d handled my words to his son. “He escaped the law because of your money and name, but I don’t give a shit about either.”

  “What do you want, Capello?” his voice betrayed anxiety—and the need to shit his pants.

  “I want him and his buddies’ dicks sawed off and burned in front of them, but I can’t do that, can I?”

  The air left Walsh in a rush.

  “He fucks up again, and it all comes out. The extortion with her family. The entire cover up. The money you paid to keep the doctors, the lawyers, and that goddamn judge quiet. Feel me? I won’t hesitate to spill your family’s sin to the world. This is the only warning you’ll get, Walsh.”

  He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Understood.”

  I nodded and turned without a word, somewhat disappointed I didn’t get to smash a nose or two. My nerves rode a straight edge, and I needed to fucking let loose—or get laid. The thought of one of the whores at the club couldn’t even get my dick hard anymore. Only one woman managed that, but I felt that whole situation was on hold until she got her shit straightened out.

  “Should have fucking burned him to the ground,” Ryker muttered the second we all climbed into Stone’s truck. “Fucking rapist.”

  “He’ll pay,” I said, glancing over at Warden who nodded. “But it’s going to look like a tragic accident.”

  “Too fucking easy,” Ryker argued, and while I had to agree with what spurred his thoughts in that vein, I had to protect our club.

  Warden had hitmen contacts at his disposal—or rather his old lady, heiress to an old cartel’s estate, did. Shaun’s father might have passed on, but a few of the men who’d been loyal to him still checked in on her from time to time.

  Warden had already made the calls to make an accident appear just that, same as how anot
her cartel had taken out Giada’s little brother. It fucking paid to have sneaky fuckers in your pocket—but even more so to exact it vigilante style rather than cold-blooded murder.

  Justice for Becca Lamont.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mila

  Devon’s stress and pissiness disappeared after talking to Vigil. Whatever he’d told my son, whatever encouragement he gave while working out in his garage gym, helped. While he appeared nervous readying for school the following Monday, Devon didn’t drag his feet when I dropped him off. He turned and waved before I drove off to head to work, setting my mind at ease.

  He hadn’t shared with me, but I expected he’d spilled to a man he considered a friend, one he trusted more than his own mother. I had to remind myself he hid the truth to keep me from worrying, not because he didn’t trust me.

  Vigil didn’t make an attempt to see me, and he didn’t return my thank you text from Saturday, either. I wondered over what went on in his head while buffing the retirement home’s floors, but decided to let things lie. I had enough to worry about.

  The escaped Demons hadn’t been found, but Marshal Pritt had called me twice over the weekend, along with his supervisor to assure me we were safe.

  “How’d school go?” I asked the second I walked in our front door and Devon turned from his gaming on the living room couch.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” My eyebrows shot up.

  “Yeah. Made a new friend and everything.” He tossed aside his controller even though the game hadn’t ended, so I dropped my purse and sat on the chair, angling to face him.

  He told me everything—from the bullying words that built up over the first week of school to the fight on Friday that resulted in his black eye.

  “But they ignored me today, Mom. Didn’t so much as look at me.”

  “Grew bored and moved onto the next victim?”

  Lips flatlined, Devon shook his head. “They ignored me—like flat out intentionally didn’t look at me. Almost … almost like they were scared to.”

  My mind chewed on that information for a few seconds.

  “Something happened.” He held my gaze, and I knew.

  “You told Vigil everything you just told me, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I nodded and forced a smile. “Well, hopefully, they’ll continue to ignore you and life can go on. Did you get a snack?” I hurried into the kitchen, hoping like hell Devon didn’t catch the itch clawing at my skin.

  “Yeah!”

  I noted the bowl in the sink and empty cereal box on the counter. That kid...

  “So tell me about this new friend you made,” I said when I heard him follow me into the kitchen and pull open the fridge.

  “He’s a nerd. Total geek in the chess and technology club.”

  “Does he like football?”

  “Nah.” Devon rummaged in the fridge while I washed out his bowl. “He likes to game but he’s going to give football a try, though. I’m heading over there Sunday if that’s okay with you.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Good. A new friend, one who wasn’t a violent biker, the neighbor I needed to have a little chat with.

  “I’m running over to Vigil’s real quick,” I said while drying my hands off.

  Devon’s face broke out into a grin, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Not for what you’re thinking, you little turd. Just want to talk to him is all.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Lock the door behind me.”

  I strode out onto the stoop, Devon’s, “Have fun!” following me out.

  If only.

  Steeling myself with a few deep breaths, I made my way across his larger lawn, and he pulled open the slider off his back deck before I even climbed the two stairs leading up to it.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, a smirk twitching his lips. My lack of jovial response flatlined his mouth, and he waved me inside. “Dill okay?”

  “Yeah, better than okay, actually.” I turned to face him once inside his living room and cross my arms as he slid the slider shut, trying like hell to block out the scent of him that permeated the cool air.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” I snipped, my gaze narrowing even further as Vigil stepped close rather than sit like I’d hoped for, his intense gaze searching my face. I wanted to ask about his brother. Wanted to make sure Vigil was doing okay, but I wasn’t there for a friendly little chat.

  “What’s on your mind, wildcat?”

  “I know what you did.”

  “What’s that?” he asked without a hint of emotion twitching his face.

  “You confronted those boys, didn’t you?”

  “Ryan Walsh and his father to be exact,” he didn’t hesitate in answering.

  I knew it. Straightening, I held his stare. “I think it’s time for you to end your friendship with my son.”

  “Why? Because I’m looking out for him?”

  “Because you used intimidation tactics—if not violence—to do so!”

  His eyes burned like molten steel, sending a shiver over me, but I wouldn’t back down. “I’m sure Devon has seen his fair share, but at least this time it was for his benefit.”

  My insides quaked even as my feet rooted deep to his floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice having lost its solidity.

  “Don’t I, Mila?”

  The blood rushed in retreat from my face, and I shivered. “Don’t ever call me that. Don’t ever talk to me again,” I managed to spew. “Stay away from me and my son, or I swear to God...”

  Feeling returned to my feet, and I fled like the gates of hell burst forth at my back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vigil

  I honored Mila’s request and stayed the fuck away. Between that and me worrying over Ricky had me popping antacids like candy. Fucking stress. Devil dug into all things Demons, giving me the goods on Mila Zeigler along with her son Devon who’d disappeared after trial.

  The whole affair had transpired exactly as I’d recalled, and I told my officers I had every intention of watching over them regardless of the program assigned to protect them. Stacy Pritt was a selfish bastard, and I didn’t trust him to do more than the bare minimum to earn his pay. He’d been a lazy prick as a kid, too. Same as his goddamn father, the Chief of Police at the time of my mother’s death.

  Knowing I had my Viper brothers at my back with both the Zeiglers and Ricky shit should have set my mind at ease, but didn’t.

  Devon snuck over and used my weights after school while she was still at work every day that week. He told me she was being a miserable bitch and wanted me to do something about it, the hint in his tone coming through loud and clear.

  “Thanks for your blessing, Dill,” I said with a laugh, “but she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “She forbade me from coming over here.”

  “And for good reason.”

  “In her mind, yeah, but she isn’t using her damn brain properly.”

  I set the dumbbells I’d been curling with onto the rack and turned to face Devon slouching on the bench.

  “She told me that you know everything,” he said, his face questioning even though he hadn’t asked one.

  “Yeah, but I’d already figured it out for myself.”

  “How?”

  “I know Stacy Pritt. Know what he does, and caught both of you slipping while lying. I’m also well aware of the trial out in California last year. Didn’t take much to put it all together.”

  Devon slumped further, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry for lying to you while you’ve been nothing but honest—especially seeing as how you trusted me with the shit from your past.”

  “You were protecting your mom, Dill. Nothing nobler than that.”

  “It’s Devon
.”

  I chuckled and tossed him a towel to mop up the sweat lining his brow. “I know. Kinda fond of your nickname, though.”

  “Me, too.” He grinned. “We good?”

  “Always.”

  “I made a new friend,” Devon went on a short time later as though not a goddamn thing had changed between us. “Going over to his house on Sunday to watch the games.”