Devil's Due: Death Heads MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “Mr. Green and Mr. Putnam,” Amy said, trying not to let the sound of her exhaustion from walking all of a hundred feet slip into her voice. “This is Shayla Queene. The woman I told you about.”

  The men nodded, and the one on the right, with the mustache, actually managed a smile. “I’m Derek Green,” he said. “You can just call me Derek.”

  The other’s face was as impassive as a politician’s. “I’m Mr. Putnam.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Shayla swooped forward and shook both of their hands, trying to be as firm as possible. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but it felt a lot like a job interview.

  “Take a seat,” Amy instructed, sitting down opposite the men.

  Shayla sat next to Amy, resisting the urge to swipe at the grease stain on the edge of the glass table with her sleeve.

  “I know Anthony called you to tell you that we’re considering you to replace Naomi on a trial basis,” Amy said. “But I wanted to have this meeting so Mr. Putnam and Mr. Green could meet you and finalize the decision.”

  Shayla gulped. Anthony had made it seem a lot more assured. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might have to impress anyone higher up in the station’s hierarchy. If she had, maybe she would have done something about her hair and makeup! This was a disaster. Anthony was such a prick. If he hadn’t said anything to her at all besides the fact that Naomi wasn’t coming back, she likely would have put her best foot forward into the station this morning in the hopes that she would be chosen for the job.

  Goddamnit.

  “Amy showed us the tapes from the night you stood in for Naomi before, and we were quite happy with that,” said Derek. “But unfortunately being charming and eloquent isn’t all the news is about. We’ll need you to bring in big stories.”

  “Big stories?” Shayla looked nervously between them. “Like more of the kind I presented that night? More kittens?”

  Derek chuckled, but Mr. Putnam’s face was stern. “No. That was miniscule. We couldn’t believe that was what was passing as news these days.”

  Beside Shayla, Amy flinched.

  “We want real news. And, since you have the most motivation to get it, we’re going to allow you into a position you’re not qualified for in the hopes that your motivation will be what gets us hard hitting stories.”

  Shayla did her best not to flap her mouth like a fish. She had to find news? In Templeton? There was nothing going on in Templeton! She could cover more about the drug coma teen, but how much further would that story stretch? It did, however, secretly delight her that Amy had clearly gotten it from her bosses about the kind of drivel she was putting up on screen. Nevertheless, this was a tall order. Also, she was totally qualified for her promotion! What did they think she had studied in school? Basket weaving?

  Shayla couldn’t decide whether she liked these guys or hated them. One thing she did know? She was desperate to impress them.

  “Thank you for the opportunity,” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

  If they knew her grin was fake, their expressions didn’t show it.

  “Now get out there and get some viewers,” instructed Derek good-naturedly. “Our evening advertisers are starting to get antsy from the lack of viewership. If we don’t increase our numbers, they could pull out and the whole station could tank.”

  What a goddamn blow to the head! How could he casually drop that the fate of the whole station rested in her ability to find interesting news for people to watch? What was she supposed to do? Go rob a bank so that she’d have something to talk about later on?

  For now, she was dismissed, so she rose from her chair and began the agonizing walk back to the newsroom. Amy tagged along beside her.

  “It’s a good thing we’ll have that kitten follow up,” she said.

  Shayla looked at her like she was speaking Greek. Was she serious? Had she not just been in the same meeting? The executives didn’t want kittens—they wanted blood and turmoil. They wanted stories that would cause people to tune in, not tune out. And Amy wanted to give them kittens?

  Also, now Shayla had to explain to her producer that she had slept with their lead and then subsequently slammed a door in his face after finding out he was a dirty no-good liar. She was sure that would go over well. Probably as well as her foray into the darkness of Luke Cinder.

  “Listen, Amy,” Shayla said. “I don’t think sticking with the kitten story is what the executives want. Let’s try to find something a little more groundbreaking.”

  Amy huffed. “Those two wouldn’t know good news if it hit them in the face.”

  And neither would Any. She would only know that something was hitting her in the face and therefore was the easiest story to snag.

  “Let’s just do what they want,” Shayla suggested. “If it goes poorly, then we can show them that our way is better.”

  She winced as she said “our way” but tried not to show it. Hell, it was like trying to convince a child.

  They emerged into the newsroom and Amy whirled on Shayla. “Well what do you suggest? I work my ass off trying to find stories for this station.”

  That was the most unlikely thing that Shayla had heard this week. Prior to her run in with Luke this afternoon, she would have been more likely to believe that he was a nice guy with good intentions than that Amy worked hard to gain viewership.

  “We just need to think,” Shayla said. “There’s lots going on in this town that nobody sees. The girl in the coma could be a start. We could follow that trail and see where it gets us. And, I hate to say it, but maybe sensationalize it a bit.”

  If the station sunk, then Shayla’s career would sink with it. What shipping company would hire a boat captain last seen at the helm of a sinking ship? She’d have to start over. Maybe go into print media instead. And the stress of that!

  Shayla was about to bounce more ideas off of Amy, but she looked up and saw Anthony stalking toward her from across the room. He had a slimy grin plastered on his face that Amy didn’t think for a second looked genuine. What the hell did he want?

  “Do you mind if I steal our newest star for a moment, Amy?” he asked using his presenter voice.

  Ugh. That couldn’t be good.

  Amy nodded, her mind clearly elsewhere. She made a beeline for the refreshments table, likely wanting to get her claws into as many free croissants as she could before the business went under or she was fired.

  Anthony was looking particularly smug today. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, and he looked like he’d been for a tan earlier in the day. He smelled like it too, the sickly scent of coconut wafting up Shayla’s nostrils as he put a gentle hand on her back and led her back into the hallway.

  Of her least favorite places to be, in a dark hallway, alone with Anthony Blake, probably ranked close to the top. To his benefit, he didn’t crowd her too much as they walked along. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but thankfully he didn’t drag her into an abandoned office or anything. He simply stopped once they were out of view of everyone else, and leaned casually against the wall next to her.

  “I wanted to apologize for my conduct the other day,” Anthony said, donning a thousand-watt smile. “I was a bit on edge, as you probably understand.” He sighed. “Naomi being gone...it’s been hard on me.”

  Shayla tried to make her expression genuine. “I understand. Thank you for the apology.”

  He nodded, his gaze slipping down from her eyes to her lips, then down to the slight cleavage peeking out from her top, then back to her eyes again. Shayla had always hated Anthony’s watery blue eyes. Now she had even more of a reason for her quiet wrath.

  “We’re going to be working in very close quarters, Shayla,” he purred. “Don’t be afraid to get to know me a little better.”

  Anthony pushed off from the wall and faced her, dipping his head down beside hers. His breath tickled her ear and she had to use every ounce of willpower she had not to recoil in disgust. He had only just a
pologized. She couldn’t have him pissed off at her again this soon.

  “We should get together some time. I think you’ll like me once you get me alone.”

  Shayla’s gut churned at the prospect, but she adopted a polite smile and stepped away only slightly—not nearly as far as she wished she could go.

  “Thanks, Anthony.” She began to turn on her heel. “I should go check to see if I’m needed anywhere. I’m sure Meg will be dying to get some bronzer on me.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Shayla walked stiffly toward the newsroom. She was acutely aware of just how close to her Anthony was walking. She was still enveloped in his coconut cloud, and she resisted the urge to cough.

  Meg eyed her down from across the room once Shayla was back in the newsroom, and she’d never been so happy to see the perky blonde in her life. She left Anthony and fast walked all the way to Meg’s cosmetic corner, hoping that he didn’t follow her there too. She reminded herself that she only had to work with him long enough to bag a job at another station. Then she could put Anthony, Amy, and all the other bullshit at the station, in her past.

  “You look pale,” Meg observed. “Sit.”

  Shayla did as she was instructed, watching as Meg mixed shades on her little makeup pallet to find Shayla’s perfect color. Finally satisfied, Meg dipped her sponge in the liquid and came toward Shayla with it. Before she could make her first dab, however, a hubbub erupted throughout the newsroom. Both girls looked around to find the source of the chatter.

  Strolling in, looking like a biker god, was Luke Cinder. And he was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Shayla’s breath caught in her throat, and her jaw dropped open. Luke clapped eyes on her and stopped, the fire in his gaze causing Shayla to melt inside despite herself. He shouldn’t still be able to have this kind of effect on her. She should hate him!

  For a reason known only to him, Anthony decided to gravitate toward Shayla in the wake of Luke’s entry. Shayla looked over at her co-anchor quizzically. Surely he couldn’t be making some sort of show of dominance? Ownership? What a tool.

  Luke’s nostrils flared and he crossed the room, pressing the bouquet into Meg’s hands without taking his eyes off of Shayla. “Please put these in Shayla’s office.”

  “Uh,” Meg stuttered. “She doesn’t have an office.”

  Luke glanced over at Meg. “Then put them on her desk. Or in her corner. Or wherever Shayla does work.”

  Meg nodded and scurried off to the wall where Shayla’s desk stood.

  Shayla stood from her chair, eyeing down the muscled monster. “I think the custom is to give them to the recipient directly.”

  “The recipient and I need to talk.”

  Anthony was still somehow holding his ground, despite the noticeable atmosphere of it being Luke and Shayla’s business. Noticing this, Luke turned a hard stare onto Anthony. He looked even bigger and tougher than the last time Shayla had seen him. Even carrying flowers, he looked ridiculously manly. She couldn’t imagine Anthony facing off against him and winning.

  And, as expected, Anthony cowered and stalked off. When he was gone, Luke turned those vicious green eyes on Shayla again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The last place Luke Cinder ever thought he would be was a flower shop. He’d never gotten a girl flowers in his life. Even his mom, who he’d loved right up until the day that the cancer took her, had never been on the receiving end of a bouquet from Luke. He’d favored practical gifts instead. He often got his mom good cuts of meat. It was a strange present, but that woman had appreciated good cooking and fine food. If he showed up with a lamb shank, she was guaranteed to be pleased with it.

  But this situation with Shayla...it seemed like it required a different approach. He tried to think what someone else would do in his position. Someone who wasn’t a big scary biker. He supposed they would probably get the girl they hurt flowers.

  It wasn’t like Luke was opposed to getting flowers normally because he thought it didn’t suit his image. He’d ridden around with a kitten in his jacket for a day, for fuck’s sake. He just didn’t think they were very useful. But he would do it if it meant hopefully getting Shayla back on his side.

  The shop assistant gave him a bemused grin as he made his purchase. Shit, flowers were expensive. How could anyone afford them in this economy?

  The next problem was that he was on his bike. He doubted a bouquet would hold up well against the wind. He asked the shopkeeper to wrap the whole arrangement in plastic, which only served to amuse her further. Whatever. He wasn't going to show up at the news station with a handful of goddamn stems.

  After tucking the flowers as far into his saddlebag as they would go, Luke hopped back on his bike and buckled his helmet. The station wasn’t far away, and he was beginning to feel a little nervous.

  Luke Cinder was not a man who felt nervous. He was the person who made other people feel nervous. But something about Shayla… He needed her to know that he wanted her. And that his marriage wasn’t real. Not in any way that counted.

  He roared up to the front of the KTMA building and parked his bike, retrieving the flowers from the bag and settling his helmet on the handlebar. Then, with a grim yet determined expression, he stepped toward battle.

  The receptionist eyed him up, seeing first him and then the flowers. “You’re back,” she said brightly. “Are those for me?”

  Luke’s only response was a bark of laughter before he breezed past her desk, bursting straight through the back doors and into the hallway. It was quiet, as it seemed to always be, in the office section of the station. Luke supposed that more people would be around during the day, but his girl was on night duty for some reason. He hoped that he’d be able to help her get a better slot.

  He hoped that she would let him.

  His boots smacked across the floor, and with a great bang he burst into the newsroom. While it had been busy prior to his entry, the room seemed to explode with life once its occupants caught sight of Luke and his giant bouquet.

  Shit. Was Shayla going to be too distracted by the flowers? He needed her full attention. He needed her eyes. The last time he’d seen them, full of rage and hurt, haunted him. He needed to fix that. It would be better to pass the flowers off on someone else.

  Luke scanned the room and saw Shayla in the makeup chair in the corner. She saw him only seconds after he saw her. Her expression hardened, turned sour. She clearly did not want to talk to him.

  Too bad.

  Luke paced toward her and thrust the flowers into the makeup girl’s hands, even though she had a sponge in one of them. “Please put these in Shayla’s office.”

  She stammered something about Shayla not having an office, and he replied, but Luke barely even recognized what was happening outside of the staring contest he and Shayla were having.

  Her eyes spoke rage.

  He journeyed back to the moment when he’d had her pinned against his door, her eyes telling him something very different. God it had been good. There was more to this girl than there appeared to be. She might seem all sunshine and easy to ruffle, but she was as cold and hard as ice, with just as much complexity as a snowflake. And god, did he want her.

  She stood up, as if squaring up with him for a fight. She was full of surprises. “I think the custom is to give them to the recipient directly.”

  “The recipient and I need to talk.”

  Only then did Luke notice that that snake of a man, Anthony Blake, was standing nearby. He was too close for anyone’s comfort, especially Luke’s. Anthony needed to be as far away from Luke’s girl as his feet could take him. And now.

  Luke directed his stare over to the smaller man, adding a little sneer in to get his point across. He was glad that Anthony got the message without Luke having to snap at him for real. He was feeling on edge about the situation with raven, and how it had possibly cost him a great girl. Frankly, he was raring for a fight.

  Anthony skulked away, though he attempted to m
ake it seem as if something interesting on the other side of the room had caught his attention. As if anyone there would believe that. Still, he was gone. The makeup artist had disappeared with the flowers. It was just him and Shayla.

  “I don’t want your flowers,” she spat. “You can take them home with you. Maybe you could give them to your wife.”

  Anthony scowled. “I can explain.”

  She scoffed. “That’s like the line of the century, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “I don’t want your explanation. I want you out of my newsroom and out of my life. It was a mistake ever getting involved with you in the first place.”

  Luke took a step closer. He towered over her small frame. “You’re going to want to hear this.”