The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2)

by Marysol James

  Yeah. No. She’d wait until the dust settled and it was clear to get to the door, then slip on out to her cabin alone. She’d happily reminisce about Zeke’s sexy winks and chiseled muscles and silver eyes, all from the safety of behind a locked door.

  She watched him now as he reached the fighting men and she braced herself for the visual impact of those massive fists on another man’s face, chest and head, and the blood that was going to fly. She quickly flashed back to how it felt to be punched and when she did, she felt her cheekbone shatter all over again. Jo shut her eyes for a second, just to center herself, and when she opened her eyes again, Zeke was standing between two huge men in Highwaymen cuts – and he was holding them apart.

  Jo stared, her brain slow to process what her eyes were actually seeing. But – yes, that’s what was happening… Zeke was standing between two furious men, feet planted firmly, one hand on each of their chests. Despite his greater height and width, his arms were straining with the effort of holding them away from each other as they struggled to escape his grip. Even from her distance, Jo could see the tension in his bulging muscles, the veins in his forearms popping… and he still managed to keep them apart.

  The one man, the larger one with blond hair, grabbed a full beer off a nearby table and went to fling the bottle at the other guy. Quick as a flash, faster than Jo could blink, Zeke had moved his hand from the man’s chest to his wrist. Zeke twisted it, as easy as turning a key in a lock and the man cried out. Jo realized that Zeke had to have enormous physical power when the man simply dropped the beer. It was clear capitulation, a white flag of surrender waving frantically, and the blond couldn’t raise it fast enough.

  The bottle hit the floor at Zeke’s feet and broke into a hundred pieces, beer splashing up all over his jeans and t-shirt. He glared at the blond and Jo almost felt sorry for the idiot: those eyes were as coldly burning as silver nitrate and despite his clear self-control, she shivered.

  Other Highwaymen joined them now, pulling the men away to separate sides of the room, and Zeke dropped his arms. He followed the other man being dragged away, a guy with long flame-red hair and built like a tank, talked to him quietly. The guy shook his head angrily, but Zeke kept talking and after a minute the guy seemed to pay attention. He looked up at Zeke – the guy was broad but quite short – and listened. That was when the others released him, backed away, leaving Zeke and red-hair to talk alone.

  The other guy, the blond, was still shouting and flailing his arms trying to get back in Red’s face and his MC brothers simply opened the bar door and yanked him out, like he weighed nothing at all. Only then did Jo think of Nell and she looked over at the bar, wondering how she felt about her deceased husband’s motorcycle club fighting amongst themselves in her place, a place that was supposed to be free of MC trouble.

  And… Nell was serving drinks as if nothing whatsoever was happening, not even glancing over at the other side of the room. Life at the bar had carried on, Jo realized now, and it was business-as-usual as people picked up tables and chairs, staff swept up the broken glass and the chatter resumed. It was like a wave of shouting and violence had passed over the room and then washed away, leaving calm and order in its midst.

  Jo blinked, looked around again, then slowly and uncertainly started to head back to the table. Clearly, scuffles broke out at this place often enough that it didn’t throw anyone’s equilibrium out of whack, so she’d just go with the flow here, find her zen and finish her cranberry juice.

  So that’s exactly what she did.

  While sitting there, she turned her attention back to Zeke and the red-haired Highwayman. Their heads were close together as Zeke talked to him and after another minute, Red slapped Zeke’s broad shoulder and sat down again. One of the other MC guys handed him a beer – and that was it, really. The sense that absolutely nothing had happened intensified as Red threw his head back and laughed and swigged his beer, Zeke nodded at him and a few other guys, then turned and headed back to Jo.

  She watched him approach her with that amazing powerful grace, and everything in her body simultaneously tightened and yet loosened. Or no… that wasn’t quite right. Her body tightened up in sexual want – her thigh muscles went rigid, her nipples hardened, her pussy clenched – but something in her chest relaxed, went limp and languid. Like a knot unravelling or ice thawing. Something hard and solid simply breaking up into a million pieces and blowing away.

  With a thrill of pure joy, she realized that it was the last of her fear finally and fully leaving her body.

  She also really understood for the first time just how completely Brian had made her so goddamn afraid of everything, everyone, every situation. And for that reason, she’d been afraid of life. Of living. Brian had planted the fear so deep and so well, that she hadn’t even noticed the dead, frozen weight that she carried around in her chest every single day. She’d gotten so used to living with it, it had become her normal and she’d simply carried on with things, even as she’d been mostly-dead.

  Oh, sure, she’d known that there were times that she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel her own heartbeat. But she’d always thought that there was something wrong with her; Brian had made it crystal clear that plenty was wrong with her, after all.

  Well, now she knew for real: the only thing that had been wrong with her was Brian.

  You fucker. I’m free from you now, for real and for good. Shove your bullying brainwashing tactics up your narcissistic, sociopathic ass.

  Looking at Zeke – a strong, huge stranger – she felt safer with him than the man that she’d been with for six years and married to for five. Brian had been wiry and professional, smooth and slick, and he’d terrified her; Zeke was glowering and towering, rough and tumble, and he truly respected her. She knew it, knew it in all the ways and places that mattered. He wouldn’t gaslight her, hurt her, hit her, leave her bloody and crying on the floor as he went off to fuck one of his girlfriends or hookers. Zeke also wouldn’t do anything unless she agreed to it – he’d wait for her go-ahead.

  Jo knew all of that.

  He was standing over her and staring at her, his hard face so soft and concerned, she felt her throat tighten up now too. God, in all the years that Brian had trained his cold blue eyes on her, he’d never once looked at her this way, not even from the very beginning, back when she’d been so convinced that he was the perfect man. Jo cursed the lost years, the fucking waste of all of it, then realized that she didn’t have to keep waiting to be treated well. Zeke was standing right here and he wanted to be nice to her, even for just one night.

  “You OK, Ana?” he rasped, that sexy-as-all-hell voice extra-sexy as it radiated worry. “You look a bit shaken.” He glanced over at the Highwaymen. “I’m guessing that you’re not used to seeing fights in person?”

  Jo almost laughed out loud. Not used to seeing fights up-close and personal? Her? The woman who had literally lived in a war zone of sorts, with her face and body the battlefield, her limbs and mind and soul the casualties of war? She was so used to fear and violence that she was finding existing without them as weird as if she’d landed on Mars: the landscape of her world was so different, she was like a tourist in her own life trying to learn a foreign language.

  But no way she was sharing this with Zeke. No need.

  “Uh,” she said. “Well… it was a shock. I mean – what happened over there with those guys?”

  “Yeah,” he said, sitting down with a sigh. “The Highwaymen are having some… growing pains at the moment.”

  “Growing pains?”

  “Yep. That guy with the red hair is Gunner and Nell’s son, Fox.”

  Jo looked over at the man again, then looked at Nell. Yeah, OK, there was a strong similarity especially around the chin and eyes: the guy had the same steady, hard blue-steel gaze.

  “So… he got his red hair from his father?” she said.

&nbs
p; “Hell, yeah.” Zeke laughed. “The hair and fiery temper too. And his brains and cunning from his Mom, all of which is why he’s called Fox.”

  “Huh. Logical.”

  “Road names always have some truth in ‘em,” Zeke told her. “They’re like inside jokes, or they’re about something physical or unique about the guy.”

  “That does make sense. They’re like nicknames a bit, but not so casual, right?”

  “Definitely not casual. They’re taken way more seriously than any birth names because the guys feel like the names are gifts to cherish. I mean, our parents choose our names because they like them or to honor a family member, but in an MC a road name is a sign of being a part of the chosen family. Guys who have them are among brothers, and they promise a kind of loyalty that goes beyond blood for most guys.”

  “OK, so… why did that blond guy want to fight with Fox, and in his Mom’s bar of all places? I get that families argue sometimes, but that seems really disrespectful to Nell and to Gunner too, right? He made his wishes clear when he was alive: no club business here.”

  “Ah, yeah, that’s Sabotage all over the damn place. The guy has never shown the proper respect.”

  “Sabotage?”

  “Right? When a guy shows up and either asks for that name or shows that it totally suits him, that should be a pretty strong hint that he ain’t a team player, huh? You can’t say that you’re too surprised when he starts to act like an asshole.”

  “And does he… ummm… sabotage the club?” Jo asked, utterly fascinated. “I mean, isn’t that against the whole point of being in an MC?”

  “It is. The club Prez is King and Emperor and God all rolled up in one and what he says goes, no questions asked by the riff raff. Sometimes the Vice can offer an objection, but it depends on the club culture. Some clubs are really democratic and the Prez is cool with different opinions or guys speaking up when they disagree, but some are nothing short of a dictatorship.”

  “And is Fox the President?”

  “He is. He was Veep when his Dad died, so he stepped up after Gunner passed almost a year ago.” Zeke grinned, shook his head, finished his whiskey. “And Sabotage is Fox’s Vice.”

  “What?” Jo was a weird combination of delighted and shocked. “How did that happen?”

  “Fox chose him. The Veep is tapped for the position by the new President.”

  “Ah.” Jo stared at him, enjoying this conversation completely; it was just so unlike her old life in every way that she could think of. “Not Fox’s best decision, surely.”

  “That is the truth, sweet thing. Huge fucking mistake. Sabotage started kicking up shit from the get-go, and by that I mean from the second he prospected to join the Highwaymen.”

  “Prospecting is the recruitment process, right?” Jo said, retrieving the information from the hours of online research that she’d done when Mr. Wolf had offered her a job interview.

  “Mmmm-hmmm. Like a try-out for membership. Lots of tests and tasks, and I couldn’t believe it when Sabotage was asked to patch in and join officially. I told Gunner to his face that based on my totally non-invested observations, Sabotage was a nightmare, but he pointed out that the MC wasn’t a prep school full of choirboy types. And that’s true enough because pretty much every club member I’ve ever met has been in jail at some point in their lives.”

  “Every one?” Jo asked, feeling anxious about Mr. Wolf and friends again. She reminded herself that he’d promised her that The Road Devils were out of that life: no way she was holding anyone’s past against them, not with her own history.

  “Yeah, most, but even the ones without records were the ‘problem kids’ at school and home. MC’s sneer at the rules of common society and flout the law every chance they get, so it’s not like the boys are all about doing what they’re told and respect for authority. But in an MC, there has to be some hierarchy and order or else nothing at all gets done, and even though raising hell and being a law unto yourselves is fun, you don’t want total chaos. Most guys can stamp down on their inner rebel and wild child long enough to do what their Prez tells them, because they see the logic and value in that. It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself, and for most guys the club is the first time in their life that they have to really get what that’s like.”

  “And Sabotage still doesn’t get it? Even now that he’s in a position of responsibility?”

  “His bullshit has gotten worse since he got handed the responsibility.” Zeke nodded over at Fox. “He challenges his President on everything you can imagine and as you can see, he has no problem getting physical. Fox told me that tonight wasn’t the first time that Sabotage has challenged his authority – but it was the first time that he took a swing.”

  “Why didn’t the other guys stop them then?” Jo said. “Why did you have to be the one to go over and get them apart?”

  “Yeah, that’s another problem. It’s the Prez and Vice-President going at it, and the guys are kind of caught in the middle. Fox has told them to stay out of any problems between them, Sabotage sure as hell has told them to stay out of it, and so they stand back and watch the arguments. I’m guessing that Sabotage upping things to a physical attack was a surprise, and they didn’t react as they usually would.”

  “But –” Jo was utterly perplexed. “Why doesn’t Fox just… I don’t know… whatever the MC equivalent of firing Sabotage would be? I just don’t get how any man can shout at or throw a punch at Fox and not be… whatever. Kicked out of the club?”

  “Oh, discipline is way possible,” Zeke said darkly. “Believe me, angel, you don’t want to know what these MC boys can do to even each other, if the Prez gives his orders.”

  “But Fox puts up with it? Why?” Jo looked over at Nell again. “And what does his mother say about it? She knows the life, she knows how her husband was treated. Surely she’d want her son shown the same respect?”

  “She says plenty when she’s alone with Fox, but she’s got no place to do anything more. Not officially.”

  “And unofficially?”

  “Nell has power in the club, but it’s a softer, sneakier power. Her late husband was the former President, her only child is the current President. Women can’t patch in and they can’t hold positions – but they sure as hell can have sway and influence. Gunner was Prez for fourteen years and Nell is known and liked by everyone, except Sabotage, who only likes his own damn self.” Zeke ran his large hand over his beard, seemed to hesitate. “Besides, Fox and the boys want The Red to be totally off-limits to anything like what we just saw. I mean, this place has fights most weeks, but it’s never been The Highwaymen before and in fact, they always help to break any fights up. I know that Nell looks all cool and collected right now just pouring drinks, but I can read that woman like a book and she’s furious.”

  Jo looked over at Nell again, watched her smiling and joking with some customers. “She looks pretty calm.”

  “She’s setting it all aside until the bar closes, for the sake of the clientele, but she’s not gonna let this one go.” Zeke paused, as if making a decision, then he added, “If word gets around that the club is turning on each other in this place, then it’s bad for business, and that means that it’s bad for Nell… and that means it’s bad for Sabotage.”

  She caught his tone, and she felt a stab of fear. “Bad how? And how bad?”

  **

  Silver looked at Ana, saw the fear on her face, and cursed himself. Why the hell was he still babbling to this woman like a high school chick drunk off her ass on wine coolers trying to impress the star quarterback? And far more importantly, why the actual fuck was he babbling about MC business?

  Despite shit like ‘Sons of Anarchy’ and the bizarre popularity of motorcycle club romance novels, the one-percenter MC world remained shady and secretive, as it should be. Silver had been fully into the one-percenter life for only s
even years, but they’d been intense and bloody years, and he knew full well that the less said about what he’d seen and done, the better. For everyone.

  The Highwaymen were still one-percenters and as such, Silver had less than no percent right to talk about their internal dynamics and problems to anyone, especially a random outsider, who was really just a crazy-hot woman that he’d met in a bar. Even just mentioning the power struggle between Fox and Sabotage was a huge ‘fuck no’… but he’d done it.

  Worse, he’d strongly hinted at what was going to happen to Sabotage.

  Silver knew that Sabotage was going to disappear that night, never to be seen again. The man had been pushing things for years, but since Gunner had died, his behavior had been appalling. Fox had mostly put with it because Sabotage was ruthless, smart, organized and effective. He was an asshole but frankly, that wasn’t a huge negative in the MC world. It wasn’t like he was going to get called down to HR for being a crap team player during meetings or for bugging Tracy in the marketing department.

  No, being a fucking prick when you were a drug- and weapons-running MC Veep was totally fine, even encouraged – but the man had crossed a line that night. He’d so clearly been looking to undermine Fox to the point that the boys would want him ousted and Sabotage in charge, but he’d overplayed his hand and big-time. Fox’s patience and tolerance had ended the second that Sabotage threw that table over and made contact with his Prez’s cheek… and now Fox was going to deal with it.

  Silver obviously didn’t know the specifics and didn’t want to know them, but he knew enough about how a human being simply vanished off the face of the earth. In his time with The Road Devils, no President had ever gotten rid of a man in the club (known in the military as ‘fragging your own side’), but Silver had helped ‘disappear’ plenty of his MC’s enemies. For a while there, it hadn’t even felt like a very big deal – it had been survival of the fittest, kill or be killed. It had been his life.