Shayla walked toward her bedroom, intent on crawling under the covers and trying to forget about today. She pulled out her phone to set an alarm, and saw that she’d missed several calls from Anthony. That was curious. He never called her. And, to be honest, she had hoped he never would. He was a slimy snake covered in goo, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She just hoped—prayed—that it was work related.
She checked her voicemail, and there was one new one. “Hey Shayla, this is Anthony Blake calling. Call me back. This is important.”
That sounded work related, at least. Unless he considered booty calls to be important. Shayla tapped his name to call him back, continuing her walk to her bed. He picked up just as she had settled down under the duvet.
“Anthony Blake speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Shayla.”
“Shayla, yes. Hi. Naomi will not be returning to the station this evening, and we want you to fill in on a trial basis until we can find a new anchor.”
Straight to business, it would seem. Shayla stifled a gasp and pursed her lips. “What happened to Naomi? Is she okay?”
Anthony let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Make sure you’re at work a little early so we can have you properly made up. You looked too pale last time.”
Shayla scowled. Trust him to make good news sound like awful news. Not only was she still worried about Naomi, but he’d insulted her too. Why had the station ever hired this idiot in the first place? Surely there had to be someone just as capable of reading the news as him in Templeton. Maybe some hobo on the street. Anything could be better than Anthony Blake’s smug face.
“Well, thank you for the opportunity.” Shayla decided being grateful and polite would be a better response then telling him how she really felt. He’d been such a jerk to her last time, she really didn’t want to get on his nerves. It seemed like everything at the station went smoother if Anthony Blake was happy.
Click.
He’d hung up on her. What a jerk. Couldn’t even be bothered to waste his breath on a goodbye. Shayla wondered why Anthony wasn’t more upset about Naomi. They seemed like they were pretty close. Well, anytime Shayla had seen them together, Anthony looked to be doing his usual work of being the world’s biggest asshole, but he and Naomi spent a lot of time together. Naomi wasn’t an idiot, so if she didn’t want to be spending time with Anthony, then surely she wouldn’t have?
Anyway, all that was a problem for later. Right now, Shayla was only concerned with getting into her bed and napping away the few hours she had until work. At least if she was asleep she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain in her gut that was cutting through her like a knife.
Chapter Thirteen
Sweet serenity, however temporary, was only ever a bike ride away. And any windy absolution Luke received could only be temporary, because he had a helluva lot on his plate. Between a comatose teenager, a potential gang war, and a furious reporter, Luke had never been so busy. But he needed time to think. He needed space to think. He needed to think.
He should have gone after her. Luke regretted not doing so as soon as her car disappeared from his sight. But what would he tell her? Would she even believe the truth if he did? He wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
Luke grabbed his jacket and stomped down the front steps, slipping his arms into the sleeves and grabbing his helmet from the handlebar of the waiting Harley. He wished everything were as simple as this bike. It broke down sometimes, but with a little love and attention he could always make it run again.
And it never looked at him like Shayla had—like scum of the earth. Just thinking about that made Luke’s face wrinkle and his guts churn. She deserved so much better than any of his shit, but he wanted her anyway. He wanted her in a fierce way that he didn’t quite understand, but wasn’t willing to give up. Not yet.
Too bad he’d lost her.
Angrily slamming his foot down on the starter, Luke let the engine rumble beneath him for a few seconds before he began to slide out of the driveway. The wind skimmed over his face, and he closed his eyes for just one second before he peeled out onto the road—just long enough to let out a long, angry sigh.
Raven.
Luke wrenched the handle forward and tore off. How did it always come back to that scheming bitch? All he wanted to do was live his life as a free man, the way he had believed he would be able to. But she and her deranged family seemed determined not to let him.
Luke took an exit toward the highway, intent on losing himself on the wooded highway out of town. Maybe he could pretend that he wasn’t coming back, if only for a second. Too much rested on his presence in town, and he knew that he wouldn’t feel right again until he had somehow explained to Shayla that he wasn’t the complete asshole she thought him to be. Still, it was tempting.
If Luke no longer belonged to Templeton, then he no longer belonged to Raven. And what a blessing that would be. When Raven, the daughter of the head of the Reapers MC, had first approached him about the marriage, Luke hadn’t been too enthusiastic about it. But he’d lost three of his guys just that month from the violence between the two gangs, and Christ if it didn’t seem poetic. They eloped, and returned a married couple—though they agreed to leave each other alone. It was a marriage in name alone. At least, it was supposed to be.
She had been a firecracker of a girl. At first, Luke had actually considered pursuing her. It was an odd thing to think when she was technically his wife. She had long, inky black hair, just like her name implied. Her fierce gray eyes had seemed lit from behind with passion and intensity. It wasn’t long, though, before Luke had realized that light was only madness.
The dappled shade of the trees flashed across Luke’s face, and he pressed further into his seat and ground his teeth. He should’ve known from the start with her. She had insisted that they consummate their wedding vows, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Why not? She was beautiful, and she was his wife. He’d made sketchier choices in the past.
Except that from that moment on, Raven had owned him.
Luke turned right toward the ocean, smelling the distant twang of salt in the air even before he could see it. There was no more beautiful place in the world to live in, that he was sure of. The mountains, the ocean, the trees—they all worked together to create a rugged wilderness that could be contained but never truly tamed. That was what Luke felt like with Raven.
When Luke decided that he wanted to keep to the letter of the agreement—and not continue to see his wife romantically—she had been furious. But she, for all her crazy, was a woman of her word. She said that as long as he kept the ring on, Luke could continue to do as he liked.
Too bad her brothers didn’t feel the same.
Dax and Klyde were two of the toughest, meanest, dumbest sons of bitches that Luke had ever laid eyes on. In every way that Raven was refined and graceful, those two meatheads were equally ogrish and slow. They did everything together, which was good because Luke doubted that anyone else wanted to hang out with them. They were graced with top spots in the club hierarchy because of their father’s status, but Luke wondered how long that would last. Yet they continued to surprise him. Rather, the Reapers continued to surprise him. Because, no matter what, all the guys in the Reapers seemed to follow whatever Dax and Klyde said.
Luke gritted his teeth as he remembered how the two idiots had showed up at the news station last night as he’d been leaving with Shayla. The goddamn nerve of them. He’d had to slip his wedding ring on in his pocket like a shady loser because their stoic display of dominance had been geared to remind him of his place, or rather the place they believed he should occupy. Dax and Klyde wanted him to be Raven’s husband in more than just name. The two meatheads wanted him to show her more respect. Probably to have a couple kids with her.
As if he wanted to pass on that kind of crazy.
A seagull crested over the horizon, and the smell of brine got stronger. The trees became sparser as he sh
ot toward the edge of the forest, and Luke revved faster. The wind was doing nothing to take away his worries, like it normally did. Maybe if he didn’t have so goddamn many it would be a different story. He felt like an idiot for thinking that a bike ride would be enough to cool his head. He needed a distraction.
In the distance, Luke saw beach grass swaying in the breeze. Behind that he knew there would be tumbling waters and an endless swathe of sandy beach. Enough beach to get lost on. For most people, at least. Unfortunately for Luke, there would never be enough beach for him to get lost.
He swung his bike onto the gravel parallel to the beach, cutting the engine and kicking down the stand. He wouldn’t stay for long, so he didn’t even bother taking his helmet off. He was only here in the physical sense. In his head, this was one of the sandy beaches of Troy. In the distance, a thousand ships bobbed on the waves. But who was he? Was he fearless Achilles, hell bent on sucking the marrow from life before embracing the hand dealt to him by fate? Or was he Hector? Bound by duty to the vows he took and a cause he didn’t support?
Luke let out a groan of frustration, gazing out to the horizon. He felt like neither. Achilles brought a blight on his men because he didn’t get his way. When Agamemnon took away his prize, the woman Briseis, Achilles refused to fight—even though it caused others to suffer. Hector, on the other hand, fought despite knowing that he would end up sacrificed for his brother’s folly.
So who was Luke? The passionate idealist or the resolute fighter? Or, was he dutiful Aeneas? Leaving behind the burning wreck of Troy to ensure the continued survival of his culture and people? Luke would hardly say his own struggle was divinely ordained, but there were parallels. Raven was Queen Dido. There was passion there, but Luke couldn’t stay with her. It was good for his people at first, but in the end it would lead only to the stagnation of his empire. He wasn’t sure how Shayla fit into all of that, but he knew at least that she belonged somewhere in the narrative. And Raven was meant to be left behind.
Raven had made things quite difficult in that respect. Especially recently. She’d apparently decided that she no longer supported the idea of them living separately, and had started showing up when he was out with other women. She’d even threatened Danika once, which both Luke and Danika had found to be hilarious. But against Shayla? Raven could probably scare the shit out of her, if not crush her entirely.
Raven was a problem. And, apparently, their marriage was no longer a buffer between the warring gangs. Luke remembered the girl in the hospital bed, sold drugs by one of Raven’s father’s men, in a territory that had been claimed for Trojan use only. That kind of impertinence foreshadowed a breakdown in harmony between Trojan MC and the Reapers MC. Would things revert back to how they were before the marriage? A veritable shit storm of blood and money?
Luke needed a distraction. He took one last look at the ocean, internally offering a staunch farewell to the waiting Achaean ships. Being here would not help Luke. The time for contemplation and careful planning was over. Tried it. Didn’t work. Now was the time for action.
With a deafening roar, Luke tore back into the woods, kicking up gravel in his wake like dirt from a horse’s hooves.
Chapter Fourteen
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Shayla’s alarm had never been so obnoxious before. She was almost positive that it was the same noise every day, but something about today’s rude awakening set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t feel any more rested than she had when she had climbed into bed for her nap in the first place. That was her fault, she supposed. It was what she got for trying to sleep through her pain. The restless sleep she’d experienced had been fueled by feelings of angst and dark regret.
Figured.
Shayla flicked off her alarm and groaned, sinking back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. She was being overdramatic. She knew that. But knowing it didn’t help her get out of it. She just had to remember that she started an exciting new chapter in her life today—life on screen. Her taste the other day had merely whet her appetite for more. And now she had the chance to make it for real.
In Templeton, she reminded herself. Hardly a bustling metropolis where people turned to the news to learn the latest about the world’s events. And she had to remember that she had earned this spot at the mysterious expense of someone else—someone she actually quite liked. But, after reminding herself of all these things, Shayla still felt excited to see where things went. It was finally her day in the sun. She just hoped she didn’t screw it up.
Rolling out of bed with a sigh, Shayla staggered onto her feet. She had about an hour before she had to get to work, which meant there was at least time for coffee. And she would need lots of it. Shayla knew that naps weren’t the best thing in the world for her. If anything, they just made her more tired. But she liked to sleep when she felt sad, even if it didn’t help.
Now she just had to deal with the side effects of that.
Shayla’s Keurig seemed to take a ridiculous amount of time to brew her cup. She stared at it intently as it did its thing, wondering whether she could get away with chucking the thing out the window.
Oh, it was going to be a glorious day at work. What a brilliant day to have to put up with Anthony Blake’s shit.
When the coffee was finally finished, Shayla grabbed her cup and loaded it with cream and sugar. The sky was just beginning to darken outside, and she stared out her dining room window at the horizon. Maybe if she did well at this they would give her full-time hours. Maybe they’d even let her work during the day, instead of the shitty late evening shift she’d been working since she started there a week ago. Her student loans were starting to cut into her income, and it was certainly having an effect on Shayla’s life. She had lots saved up still, because she’d been a savvy college student, but it would run out soon enough.
In other words, she needed this promotion to stick. Badly.
Shayla brushed her teeth and combed through her hair. She knew that Meg would attack her hair and face anyway, so she didn’t bother doing anything extra. After selecting her most newsworthy outfit, a charcoal pencil skirt, flowy maroon blouse, and black cardigan, Shayla grabbed her purse and her keys and was out the door.
Shayla fumbled with the radio on the drive to the station, but couldn’t find anything to listen to that didn’t make her blood boil. It was all either about finding true love or being cheated out of it. Why was the whole world so fixated on finding a partner? It was stupid. Yeah, maybe Shayla had been interested in one yesterday—but today she was determined not to let any man close to her for a long, long time. She could do without the sappy love songs and ballads of pain.
Shayla drove the rest of the way to work with the radio off, the only beat being the sound of her turn signals as she maneuvered her way through downtown Templeton. The dark clouds blocking the sun’s dying rays meant that rain would be coming soon. Shayla had always found rain very cleansing, which was good since she lived in Northern Oregon.
The receptionist, Sharon, barely looked up from her screen as Shayla walked past. Internally, Shayla huffed. Didn’t Sharon know that Shayla was a bigwig now? Shayla bet she said hello to Anthony every time he walked into the office. Ah, well. She supposed that Anthony had a little more to offer the receptionist than a friendly hello. He had a bit of a reputation around the station as a ladies’ man. As long as he didn’t try that shit on Shayla, things would be fine.
Something told her that she wouldn’t be so lucky.
The newsroom was more alive than Shayla had seen it in a long time. Amy locked eyes on her as soon as she walked in and gestured for Shayla to follow her into Amy’s office. Shayla nodded and trailed after the woman and her headset from a distance, eyeing the chaos around her with interest. It didn’t seem that people were working so much as they were...gossiping.
The hallways leading off from the newsroom were just as cramped and bleak as usual. The fluorescent light above her flickered menacingly as she
watched Amy disappear into the office at the end of the hall. The lights had been flickering since the day Shayla started, and likely before. Why somebody hadn’t climbed up and twisted the bulb, or gotten a new bulb entirely, was beyond her. But if Amy was competent only to the point that was required of her, the station’s executives were worse. From what Shayla knew, they spent most of their time “working from home.” Now that she thought of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met them.
As it turned out, she was about to.
Stepping into Amy’s office, Shayla observed that there were two grimly dressed men seated around the conference table. She couldn’t shake the contrast between them and the rough and tough biker who’d been in there only days before. These men looked like they were doing their best to blend into their surroundings. Both wore gray suits with off-white shirts and gray ties. One had a gray moustache that looked like a caterpillar on top of his lip, on its way to climb up to his bald head. The other had close cropped brown hair and a weather-beaten face that led her to believe the brown was a dye job.
Devil's Due: Death Heads MC Page 25
