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

by Marysol James

  “Knowing Ice and Vixen, they’ll be a while,” Dux told her. “So grab a drink and get comfy, babe. You’ll be here for an hour at least before Ice can take you home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Unless someone over at The Garage can take you. Wolf and Scars aren’t around, Cole called in sick so Rebel is tending bar alone, Blue Dragon is heaving again this week since the grand re-opening so Zee’s got everyone fully booked. I mean, we’d drop you off, but we have a plane to catch and we’re running late as it is. And your place is in the opposite direction to the airport, anyway.”

  “Oh, right. You’re off back to New York to visit your Mom.”

  “Yep.” Drake hefted a large bag onto his muscled shoulder. “Someone will take you home, Jo. Go and ask if you really don’t want to stick around.”

  “I will. Safe travels, guys.”

  “You know it, sweetheart.”

  They waved, headed out the door. She watched them go, then stared around the bar with a sigh. God, she really didn’t want to sit here for an hour or two with this pounding headache, and she definitely didn’t want to wander down the hall to one of the backrooms and interrupt whatever the hell Ice and Vixen were up to. She could just imagine the look on his face and in his eyes if she did that. Jo would rather camp out for a week on the North Pole than be subjected to an additional ten seconds of Ice’s frosty disapproval.

  But the guys over at The Garage were crazy-busy, she knew. Silver wasn’t due back until the next day, the twins were off now for six days, and Jinx and Kansas were both up to their eyeballs in repair work. They’d been there since six that morning and she’d heard them discussing that day’s work. It had sounded like they’d be counting themselves lucky to be out of there by eight that night.

  OK. So. She’d just get herself home this once. Why not? Ice’s local contacts had searched high and low for Brian, and everyone had come back with big fat handfuls of nothing at all. The conclusion was that he’d left Denver and if Ice had told Wolf that, then it had to be true. The Chilly One was, after all, the man who had rumbled the whole Brian/James Worth thing in one phone call. Ice had high-level connections, and favors owed to him, and a military background that seemed to be international in scope, so if a single well-placed call could yield boatloads of information about a conspiracy and a secret federal investigation, then weeks and weeks of calls and calling-in old debts and leg-work resulting in nothing meant that there was nothing to find.

  Brian was gone. Who knew where. But he was nowhere near her, that was obvious.

  And her head was killing her. She wanted to go.

  Without a word to anyone, Jo pulled out her cell and called a taxi, reflecting that being in a car with someone who might actually be nice to her would be a lovely experience, and a welcome change. She then went outside to wait, thinking that the fresh air might help her crunching headache recede a bit.

  **

  Almost ninety minutes later, she was home on the sofa with a cup of green tea, in her comfiest pj’s and waiting for her pizza to arrive. She’d decided on a night of trashy TV and cheesy-pepperoni goodness, ending with a bubble bath and maybe a glass of white wine. All of that followed up by a good night’s sleep and seeing Silver tomorrow would be just what the doctor ordered.

  Especially the part about seeing Silver.

  There was a knock and she glanced at her cell phone clock: the pizza was early, but then again, it was early enough to be before the dinner-time rush. Delighted at how her night was shaping up already, she walked over to the front door and opened it wide.

  “That was quick –”

  That was all Jo got out before the door was kicked open, fast enough to catch the side of her head. With a gasp, she fell backwards, landed hard enough to take the breath from her body. Stunned and dizzy, her head ringing and spinning, Jo lay on the floor and wondered just what the hell had happened.

  That was when he stepped through the door, just walked into her home like he had a fucking right to be there.

  No no no no.

  Brian calmly shut the door behind him, then stood over her as she tried to get enough air to speak, to scream. He looked relaxed and well-rested, even a bit tanned, and it occurred to her that he was exactly where he wanted to be right this minute, doing exactly what he wanted to do.

  He’d waited for this. He was in his element.

  And she was in hell.

  She licked her lips, getting ready to fight him, whatever that was going to mean. “You fucking –”

  Again, her words were cut off by a violent blow to the temple; mercifully, she tumbled into blissful blackness and knew no more about this visiting horror for a little while.

  Not nearly long enough, though. It all began again soon enough.

  **

  “Wake up.”

  The very echoey, faraway words were punctuated with a sharp crack, then another one. The second one she felt on her cheek, a sting that barely registered as a sensation and was more of a sound. There was also a persistent, low buzzing, like bees. She wanted to wave her hands in front of her face to swat them away, but her arms felt as heavy as stone. Then her cheeks stung again and she wondered if the bees had stung her. Consciousness swam up to meet her, fell away, returned tentatively.

  Wait, are those slaps? And is that my cell phone vibrating?

  Jo winced and groaned as her face began to smart, and she tried to turn away. All she really felt was pain in her head and she vaguely wondered why her headache was so much worse than it had been, even after taking a painkiller. She decided to go and get the paracetamol from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and then was very confused when she couldn’t seem to get to her feet.

  “Bitch, I said wake up.”

  The voice was closer this time, much closer. Jo forced her eyes open, then shut them again as the living room lights directly above her stabbed them.

  Why am I on the floor? And why do I smell pizza?

  “I swear to fuck,” the voice growled, clearly beyond patience now. “Look at me, you dumb whore, or I’ll drown you in the goddamn bathtub. See if cold water brings you around, huh?”

  Brian.

  Her eyes snapped open and Jo was fully, completely, utterly awake. She suddenly remembered everything, understood everything, felt everything. Worst of all, she saw everything that was going to happen to her – and the only thing bigger than the terror was the rage.

  “Ah,” he said, impatient and irritable. “Finally.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, watched with a sinking heart as he ate her pizza. Obviously, the delivery person had shown up and been paid and gone away again, so she couldn’t hope for any help from that individual. Not that they could do much, really, could they? Even if they’d noticed her unconscious body on the living room floor and said something, surely Brian would have just dragged them into this mess too.

  She was on her own now.

  Should she scream and hope the neighbors or a passer-by heard her? That was one way to go, but let’s face it: if she did that, he’d shut her up with some force and determination. It would hurt, she knew that.

  Then again, he was going to shut her up anyway, wasn’t he? He was going to use force no matter what she said or did, and he was going to do so with plenty of determination and enthusiasm. She was going to hurt before it all finally stopped once and for all, she was going to hurt badly. She knew that she was dead if she screamed; she was equally dead if she didn’t. And since all of that was true, why let him run the whole show, do everything on his goddamn timetable, lay here like a damsel in distress and just wait for him to call the shots that would determine her fate?

  So what the hell. Let’s get this fucking party started. If you’re dead anyway, why not be an active participant in resisting that, making it harder work for him?

  Go.

  She opened her mouth
and let out a long, shrill scream as she rolled away and staggered to her feet. Brian started in surprise at her fluid, strong movement, dropped his plate on the floor as she lurched for the door, still screaming. Within seconds and to no surprise, he was on her. He slammed her whole body against the door, using the weight of his own to maximize the impact and then hold her in place, struggling and twisting.

  “You fucking stupid little cunt,” he whispered harshly in her ear, his one hand pinning her wrists against the wood, the other holding her hair painfully tight. “You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?”

  “Coward,” Jo hissed back, thrashing and trying to bite his forearm. Both were totally useless, but she felt better for just being a squirming inconvenience. “You goddamn pathetic, weak piece of shit.”

  He lifted her head off the door, slammed it down again, the impact making her see shooting and exploding stars. Despite her desire to stay standing and strong, she slumped against his body, felt her legs start to go out from under her. Satisfied, Brian dragged her to the bedroom and threw her down on the bed. He straddled her prone body, holding her wrists over her head again. His other hand went around her throat and pressed on her throbbing artery, cutting off the blood to her brain.

  Right away, Jo panicked, became alive and fierce under his touch even as her head grew light. She was not going to go out like this, with her life breath literally stopping in his hands. The fucker would have to find another way – hell, let him stab her or shoot her. But she wasn’t going to accept death with him staring straight into her eyes and stealing her voice. He’d taken too much of her already.

  She was going to deny him this, even if it was the last thing that she ever did.

  With every ounce of strength that she had, she lifted her knees and twisted her hips. It wasn’t much, but it threw him off-balance long enough for her to draw breath. His lip curled and he slapped her hard, then again, then he closed his fist and started to punch her, over and over.

  Jo’s lip split and her left eye was already swelling. The fear was back now as she realized that this was how he was going to do it, after all: she was going to get battered to death right here, on this bed where she’d made love with Silver.

  For a few precious seconds she was back there with him; Silver was moving above her and inside her, cradling her in his strong arms, whispering sweet, hot words in her ear as she surrendered to him. She clung hard to that memory, wanting this to be the last thing that she was thinking of when she left this world behind.

  Thinking of the shimmering beauty of Silver while her monster ex was hurting her felt like the ultimate denial to Brian, somehow. She knew that he wanted the best, most shining parts of her to be annihilated in these last moments, he wanted to control her demise the way that he’d controlled her life. He wanted to be her focus, he wanted to be the last person that she ever saw and thought of. He wanted to send her into the afterlife with his name on her lips as she begged him for mercy.

  She was going to deny him all of that.

  “I love another man,” she gasped out between blows, her head being flung from side to side. “He’s the best man that I’ve ever known, light years better than you. I feel beautiful when he looks at me. I scream his name when I come for him, and I come for him over and over.”

  Brian paused with his fist hovering over her face, stared down at her in sheer disbelief. She smiled up at him through her cracked, bleeding lips.

  “I promise you, you cowardly narcissistic asshole, he’s going to find you and he’s going to end you.” She smiled more widely as she saw that her words had made direct contact. “The man that I love is going to fucking kill you. You can count on it. Choke on that truth, motherfucker.”

  Just then there was a distant knock at the front door, and they both started. He slammed his hand down over her mouth and shook her.

  “Who the fuck is that?” he snarled. “Who?”

  Jo mumbled behind his hand and he leaned forward. “What?”

  “One of the guys from work, probably,” she said, the words still muffled but semi-audible. “I left early and they might be wondering why.”

  “Those loser biker thugs are all heart, huh?”

  She shrugged, thinking it a bit rich that the man who’d just been pounding on her face was calling anyone a thug, then her eyes widened as he reached behind him and produced a gun from the waistband of his jeans. Suddenly afraid for the person outside her door, Jo went totally silent and still and watchful.

  “Ohhh, now you’re gonna cooperate, are you?” he said. “Smart move, bitch. Now let’s get this straight: we’re going to go and see who’s standing out there, and if you scream or say anything to warn them, I will shoot them through the fucking door. Clear?”

  Jo nodded. She knew that he’d do exactly that – and then shoot her.

  Another knock at the door, sharper somehow. More insistent.

  He dragged her off the bed by her hair, dragged her bodily through the living room, wrenching her shoulder horribly as he did, his hand over her mouth the whole time. Every inch of Jo’s body was screaming in pain, but all she was thinking about now was keeping the innocent person knocking on her door bullet-free and still breathing.

  They stopped in front of the door, and he rested the muzzle of the gun against the wood with a soft tap as he hissed in her ear, “Ask who it is.”

  He lifted his hand off her mouth, put a warning finger to his lips.

  “Yes?” Jo said, trying to speak in a calm and level voice, praying with every iota of her being that Brian didn’t take two lives that night. “Who’s there?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Five minutes earlier, Silver had pulled up to Jolene’s house feeling lighthearted and happy, ready to surprise her with his early return. He’d missed her like he’d miss water or food or air, if he had to go without any of them. And on the whole, he’d prefer to give one of them up, if it came down to that or losing Jolene.

  The lights were on in the living room and her bedroom, and he’d smiled as he’d grabbed his overnight backpack. Nestled in the bottom, wrapped in his t-shirt, was a chilled bottle of rosé. Silver’s plan was to strip the woman naked, pour wine over that luscious body and lick every drop off her golden, quivering curves and peaks and valleys. He’d definitely linger in some areas longer than others and his cock gave a twitch as he imagined being between Jolene’s thighs, pushing her legs farther apart with his shoulders as he feasted on her sweet, wine-soaked pussy.

  As he’d walked up to Jolene’s house, he’d wondered when to tell her what Nell had told him while he’d been enjoying a whiskey at The Red the day before: that she’d known from the get-go where Jolene was going next, because she’d mentioned it over coffee. That she’d known that Silver and Jolene were going to possibly meet up again in Denver in a few days’ time. That they were both in for one hell of a shock.

  According to Nell, she’d bitten her tongue so hard that morning after, when Silver had told her that Jolene could have been something special, she’d thought she was going to bite it clean off. She’d watched him drive off with a fervent hope that they’d work it all out.

  Silver had been pleased to tell her that yes, he’d gotten out of his own way long enough and at last to make it happen. To make it real and honest.

  Musing about all of this, he’d knocked on Jolene’s door, looked up at the red camera light blinking down at him and given it a wide smile, in case she was in the laundry room and looking at the monitor. It seemed to be taking her a while to get to the door, so he waited, in case she was in the bathroom or the shower or something.

  His cell rang then and he saw that it was Ice’s number. Silver swiped ‘accept’, turned a bit to look out at the street as he greeted his brother.

  “Is Jolene with you?” Ice grated out with no preamble. “Have you got her? I just called her cell, but no answer.”

  “
What?” Silver said. “I thought you brought her home.”

  “Is she home?”

  “Well, I’m standing outside her door now and the lights are on.”

  “OK, good.”

  “Wait, wait up. You didn’t bring her home?”

  “No.”

  “Who did?”

  “Nobody.”

  “What the fuck?” Silver exploded. “Why not?”

  “Because I was… busy in a back room when she came early to Satan’s go home. Rebel saw her standing there one minute, then she wasn’t, and he figured that she went back to The Garage to wait. After I… finished what I was doing, I walked over to pick her up and Kansas told me that she’d left almost two hours earlier.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ice, of all the times to fuck that always-open-for-business cheap whore Vixen. You couldn’t keep it in your goddamn pants long enough to make sure that Jolene was safe?”

  “Hey –”

  “Save it, dickhead,” Silver snapped and disconnected the call.

  He knocked on the door again, more insistently this time. He waited, trying to listen through the door. Silence.

  He was just about to call Jolene’s cell when he heard something, a muffled, quiet little something, like something had just been gently placed on the door itself. A hand? A fingernail? He paused, and then:

  “Yes? Who’s there?”

  At hearing Jolene’s voice, relief flooded through him for a second, then it froze up completely as he realized that something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Very very fucking wrong.