Devil's Claim: Apaches MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “I saw it. There are more bikers out there than just that one guy. It’s not like it was him.”

  Why the hell was Amy even calling her in the first place? “Meg said you’re close with that Luke guy,” Amy said.

  Ah. That was why.

  “I want to get him in for an interview but he won’t answer my damned calls. Can you talk to him, win him around?”

  “I don’t even know how to get in contact with him,” Shayla lied, knowing that even if Meg had sold her out about spending time with Luke, she wouldn’t put herself in the line of fire for what she’d done to get his details.

  “I’ll send you his phone number.” She said it so matter-of-factly and with such exasperation that Shayla gritted her teeth.

  “What I mean is,” she bit out, “if he’s not answering your phone calls, he’s not going to answer mine. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to the press.”

  “Well I’ll get Mike to find out where he leaves. He’s good at that nerdy shit.”

  It made Shayla smile that she had this tiny bit of revenge over her producer. They would have to work to get a piece of information that Shayla already knew. That’s what they got for being such a jerk to her all the time.

  Anyway, it would all be for nothing. There was no way that Luke would ever agree to do an interview about his club. She knew that without even having to ask, just based on the fact that he engaged in illegal shit.

  First rule of motorcycle club: don’t talk to the press about motorcycle club.

  “I’m just about to get in the car. Anything else you want to run by me?” Shayla asked, conscious of how her wording flipped the power dynamic and probably had Amy fuming.

  “No. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Have a good day,” Shayla sang.

  She hung up the phone and snickered. Nothing she had done in her job up until this point had ever felt so satisfying as that one phone call. It put a pink tinge on an otherwise convoluted day of lust and anger.

  It also saw her singing along happily to the radio all the way to Luke’s house. It wasn’t a long drive, but hell it was a happy one.

  Her cheery disposition ebbed away as she turned down his street. She passed the houses, reading out their numbers while a knot of something dark grew in her stomach. Was it fear? Was it anxiety? Was it just a cramp? Whatever it was, Shayla suspected that she just needed to see Luke and it would soon be over with.

  She stopped the car in front of a small house with white stucco exterior. Luke’s bike was parked outside, so even without the house number she would have found it. She parked just behind the Harley and stepped out, slamming the door behind her. She thought that maybe if she announced her presence in such a way, Luke would come out of the house and she wouldn’t have to deal with the gut-wrenching task that was knocking on a person’s front door. She had always hated that.

  Shayla would have made a horrible door to door salesmen.

  There was no movement in the house as she approached the front door. Shayla wasn't sure whether to take that as a good sign or not. It probably wasn’t a good or bad sign, but her brain was already whirring at her approach, racing from thought to thought in an attempt to burn off some of her excess adrenaline.

  She knocked and waited, shifting her weight from the front of her feet to the back, then back again. He didn’t leave her waiting for long. She was grateful for that.

  Luke answered the door looking like a rock and roll god. His black t-shirt hugged his muscular frame, which Shayla instantly zeroed in on. She had to drag her eyes to his face, which featured a smug grin the likes of which she’d never seen.

  He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You made it,” he said. “I thought you might pussy out again.”

  Heat rose in Shayla’s cheeks. “Yeah. I deserved that.”

  “You look good.”

  His comment threw her. She did look good. She knew that. But the fact that he was commenting on it was so unexpected. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but there was her mind again—whirring away.

  “Thanks.”

  “So?”

  “So?”

  “Let’s hear this apology. It better be good.”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  He looked her up and down. “If I let you through this door, there won’t be much apologizing going on.” He chuckled. “Apology first. Then I let you in.”

  Oh god. The heat from her cheeks spread straight down to her core. Why did everything he said have to get her so hot?

  “I’m sorry for running out on you unexpectedly,” she said, trying to hold his gaze. “There was an emergency that I had to deal with.”

  “Lie.”

  “There was!”

  “I can see it all over your face little one.” He cocked his head to the side. “What did I say about not lying to me?”

  Shayla bit her lip and screwed up her face. “Fuck.”

  “Fuck is right. Tell me why you left.”

  She looked down at her feet and ground her toes into the cement.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Shayla looked up. “Because I like you, okay? I wasn’t sure I could deal with you tossing me aside after screwing me. I thought it was easier just to eject myself from the situation.”

  He didn’t laugh in her face, to his credit. “You could have just told me that.”

  Shayla bit back a laugh of her own. “And I’m sure we’d have parted as friends and high fived on the way out of the bar,” she said snidely. “Besides, you’re intimidating as hell. And I wasn't sure I’d be able to keep my resolve if I saw your face or your—” She gestured to his body. “—other parts.”

  Luke smiled. “You’re so eloquent. You should be on TV.”

  “Hey!”

  He put up his hands to calm her. “Apology accepted.”

  “Really?” Shayla put a hand on her hip. “Just like that?”

  “What? You think my ego is so fragile that I can’t handle a girl running out on me every once and awhile?” He grinned. “I’m sure I can pleasantly surprise you in a lot of areas. There is something I’ll need you to do for me though.”

  Shayla batted her eyelashes at him. “What’s that?”

  He shook his head with a bemused smile. “Not that. Though you’re going to be doing that soon too. I need you to get your producer to stop fucking calling me.”

  Shayla licked her lips at his promise, but stopped when he mentioned Amy. She grimaced. “I’m afraid that’s a no can do. She’s actually sending me after you now.”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  He actually almost looked a little bit hurt by that. Or maybe she’d just imagined it.

  “No.” Shook her head. “Absolutely not. I told her I didn’t even know how to get a hold of you, and she’s currently getting our resident geek to track down your address.”

  Luke chuckled. “Well isn’t that a stitch.”

  “But you see how my hands are tied on this. You’re going to have to wait until I come after you for the story, then reject me. Then I can get her off your back.”

  “Fair enough.” His eyes blazed. “Now, Ms. Queene. Would you like to come in?”

  Shayla’s breath caught in her throat. The apology had gone so quickly and smoothly. To already be on to the other part? She didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “Uh, yeah.” She nodded. “I can come in for a bit.”

  He stepped aside to let her pass, but not far enough for her to do so without brushing against him. As soon as her shoulder touched his chest, her pulse spiked and her insides tingled. She stopped for a breath, just long enough to look up and see the lust pooling in his eyes. His face had gone from cheerful and carefree to intense and dark in a matter of seconds.

  It was so hot.

  Shayla took another step, which brought her fully inside his door frame. Two more steps and she was far enough away that Luke could swing the door closed behind her. She turned to look
at him, expecting him to still be standing there watching her, but he was already reaching for her, pulling her to him and pushing her against the wall.

  Shayla responded with ferocity, mashing her lips feverishly against his. The yearning she felt for him deep in her bones, that had been lying in wait for the past two days, jumped up and took over. She was more animal than woman, raking her nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles flexed under his skin.

  Luke’s hands went from her hips to her breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of her shirt and letting out a low growl. “You made me want you so bad,” he purred. “Maybe I should punish you.”

  A shock went through Shayla, straight to the heat between her thighs. “Go on then,” she said. “Punish me.”

  He pulled back, staring down at her with a grin. “You don’t think I will?”

  “I think we both want the same thing right now, and I’m not so chicken shit that I’m going to waste my time pretending to be demure. Unless that’s what you want.” She batted her eyes and bent her lips into a little bow. “Oh please, sir, I’m so innocent and terrified, whatever will I do if you are even the slightest bit harsh with me. I’m such a delicate little flower.”

  He pressed a hand against the front of her jeans, cupping her sex in his big palm. The seam of her jeans was painful against her clit, the thin red panties doing nothing to cushion her, but as painful as it was, she wanted it, and more.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “I think you’re right, little one.”

  He captured her mouth again and pulled her away from the wall, unzipping her jeans and thrusting his hand inside as he spun her and pressed her face against the door. Cold air teased her pussy as Luke pulled down her jeans and panties. She ached so fiercely, her whole body shaking at the thought of him entering her. Filling her. She heard his own zipper go down, and she shivered in anticipation. She was so much smaller than him, he had to lean way down, and she had to go way up on tiptoes to give him room to position the tip of his cock at the opening of her sex. Her thighs were already trembling when he pressed inside of her, barely waiting for her body to open to him, pushing her right to the edge of pain. She cried out, her body feeding on the hurt as much as it did the delight. He thrust only a handful of times before she broke open around him, crying and writhing on his cock as her pussy pulsed around him.

  “Holy fuck,” Luke hissed, his breath hot on her ear.

  As orgasms went, it hadn’t been the heavens opening experience she knew sometimes happened for her, but the sheer speed of its arrival made her hope for so much more. “Please,” she whispered, her voice thread. “More.” He groaned in her ear and bent his knees, positioning himself to pound into her, his hips anchoring her at the angle he wanted. The intensity of his arousal at seeing her climax so fast was clear, because soon he was tense behind her, a low moan ripping from his throat. He let out a soft sound as he came, his hands tight enough to leave bruises on her hips, and then he released her, slowly pulling out of her and letting her settle back down onto flat feet.

  She turned to face him, and he leaned over her, pressing his cheek into the top of her head in a surprisingly sweet gesture. She found herself smiling. His hands were on her shoulders, gently stroking her body in a soft and reassuring gesture. She turned her face to the side, ready to kiss his hand when it touched her again.

  And her eye caught something shiny.

  “Is that…” Her words died in her throat. She already knew the answer. How had she not seen that sooner? What kind of reporter could she ever hope to be if she had missed the most crucial detail about the man she’d spent the last two days lusting over?

  Luke was only just coming back to earth, and must not have heard her breathy question. Either that, or he didn’t know how to respond.

  He did look genuinely surprised, though, when she turned around and shoved him off of her, hoisting up her pants and buttoning them with a dirty glare.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Shayla opened the door, her knuckles white on the handle. “I don’t know,” she yelled, pointing at the ring on his left hand. “Why don’t you ask your fucking wife?”

  Then Shayla slammed the door and was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shayla practically lurched down Luke’s steps, digging her keys in her pocket and clutching them in a death grip.

  She should have known. Goddamnit, how could Shayla have been so stupid? She’d always prided herself on her investigative skills, but what kind of reporter missed a goddamn wedding ring? Had he always been wearing it?

  Obviously. He was probably that kind of dickhead—the kind who didn’t even bother to take it off. And he had probably congratulated himself the whole time he was wooing her. How hilarious he must have found it that he was able to trick her into thinking he actually cared, while he was wearing his wedding ring the whole time! The goddamn nerve of it.

  The sound of the door being wrenched open behind her only made her walk faster, her feet pounding against the pavement as she all but ran toward her car.

  “Shayla, wait!” Luke’s gravelly voice chased her into her driver’s seat, but she slammed the door and locked it despite his protests. “You don’t understand!”

  Oh, she understood enough. She understood that she had fallen into the same trap that every goddamn person in the city had when that news story about him and the dumbass kitten had aired. Tough biker guy with adorable kitten—how sweet! He must have a big, soft heart underneath all those tattoos and muscles.

  As. Fucking. If.

  Shayla wrenched her key in the ignition and thrust the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway without so much as sparing a glance at the burly man who’d followed her out. At least he wasn’t pounding against her window. That would have really been pathetic.

  What the hell was there to understand? That was what really pissed her off. Unless he was divorced, but his finger had swelled too much to remove his ring, and he had an appointment to have it cut off tomorrow, Shalya wasn’t interested. She wanted something real.

  She should have listened to her instincts when they told her she would never have that with Luke.

  Once she was zooming away down the street, the figure of Luke and his stupid house and stupid motorcycle disappearing in the rearview, Shayla let out a scream of frustration. A scream of mourning. Because she had liked Luke. She had felt something for him. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it had been the stirrings of something deep within her that had been dormant for a long time.

  And now it was over, because there was nothing else that she could or would do with him.

  Stupid. Goddamn. Men.

  Shayla was glad it only took her a few minutes to get home. She didn’t much feel like driving, unless it meant crashing her car into every motorcycle she saw. It was probably better for her to be off the roads. And, to top it all off, she hadn’t arranged to have him on the station like Amy wanted. Not that she wanted him to be there now, but she had enjoyed the prospect of having a one up on the others at the station. For a minute, Luke had seemed like her ticket out of her internship and into a proper career.

  Shayla wondered whether this hiccup would simply put her back to where she started, or if it would send her a step back, too. Who even knew with the idiots at her station.

  Shayla pulled into her driveway and stormed up the front steps, slamming the door behind her and locking herself inside the house. Nobody would find her here. At least not for another few hours, until she was expected at the station for work. She’d have to think up something to say to Amy in the meantime.

  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.”