Devil's Claim: Apaches MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Shayla huffed a breath and stepped into the newsroom. That would be fine, she decided, heaving a glance at the crappy intern desk in the corner of the room. It would be fine, because at least then she would have stepped out of her role as an intern. She might not be able to land a great job overnight, though she had her hopes, but she could at least say that her job wasn’t primarily coffee jockey anymore.

  “There you are!” Amy called from across the room. “I was hoping you’d come in early. I wanted to talk to you about another piece.”

  Shayla set her mouth in a grim line as the smaller woman, headset perfectly in place, approached her with bright eyes. Shayla had never seen Amy look so excited.

  “So I guess the network executives liked the week of biker coverage?” Shayla commented. She’d had check ins with Amy periodically during the week, but Mr. Putnam and Mr. Green, who made the important broadcasting decisions, had said they were reserving their full comments until the close of the piece.

  Amy nodded her head emphatically. “Big time.” She paused, screwing up her mouth. “Well, they liked the numbers, at least. I got the impression they didn’t actually watch much footage.”

  Shayla chuckled and shrugged. “Well, they wanted viewership. We got them viewers.”

  Amy tucked an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear. “That’s for damn sure. They’ve given us a little more flexibility in terms of budget and in content. They want to see what you can come up with for a new story.”

  Shayla’s heart beat a little faster. “I’m coming up with the next story by myself?”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “No! I’m here with you.”

  Amy was good at kitten stories, and not much else. So basically, yes, Shayla was going to need to figure out some impressive story ideas. But that was what investigative reporting was, after all; finding the story and going after it. She’d just always seen herself as more of an anchor type…well. She was sure that she could figure something.

  “When do they want us to start something new?”

  Amy glanced down at the watch on her wrist, leading Shayla to believe for a moment that she had hours instead of days or weeks. But when she looked back up it was with a face of sudden realization.

  “I’ve got to run!” She gave a parting wave to Shayla. “I’ll talk to you about it later, but go see Putnam and Green tomorrow when they’re in the office. They have more details about what they’re looking for.”

  Amy hurried off, her hips swinging as she began to corral people from lighting into a huddle in the back, presumably to discuss a patch of faulty wiring or another otherwise KTMA-esque usual occurrence.

  Shayla sighed and walked to the other side of the room, where a small hallway led off, ending in an emergency exit that flickered in the dim lighting. She turned into the last door on the right and tossed her purse onto the wooden desk. She’d gotten a new office, finally. The “straight maze” as it was sometimes called was the tiny offshoot of the newsroom where the night workers got their space. She’d only ever seen Amy use her office when she was near catatonic with stress, doubled over on her office chair and swinging idly around. Amy got in before the rest of them did and did some sort of work in her office before preparing for broadcast, but since Shayla never got to see that part of her it was as if it didn’t exist.

  Anthony and Naomi had used their offices quite frequently. Anthony still did. Though the two had been attached at the hip and had spent much of their time in one another’s offices, they didn’t actually share one as Shayla had originally thought when she started. She was glad, because that would have meant that now she had to share an office with Anthony.

  Gross.

  Thankfully, Shayla got Naomi’s old office. While it shared a wall with Anthony’s, she didn’t usually have to see him or talk to him until they went to makeup. Unless he made his presence known, that is, but for the past week she’d been coming in close to the broadcast after spending the day with Luke, so she hadn’t spent much time in her office

  Now she was in her office, and suddenly Anthony appeared like a summoned demon.

  His figure took up most of the door frame. He was a muscular guy, but not in the same way as Luke. There was something off about his figure, like he’d been sculpted rather than grown. Shayla was sure that some women would have found it appealing, but not her. She was more interested in guys who didn’t look like tanned pieces of leather.

  “Hey, you,” he said jovially, fixing her with a very white and extremely expensive smile.

  Shayla’s eyes met his, much as she wished she could avoid the contact. “Hi. What’s up?”

  He swaggered into the office—an impressive gait in such a small space—and perched at the edge of her desk. “You and I need to have a chat. We haven't seen each other in a while.”

  And oh, how wonderful that had been. A week where she only saw the bare minimum of Anthony, and where she saw the most of Luke—that was Shayla’s idea of heaven.

  She hadn’t realized that giving up her crappy intern position and her little hovel of a desk in the corner of the newsroom would mean that she had to endure a new type of torture at the hands of Anthony Blake. She wondered idly, staring at his orange complexion and gelled hair, if it had been worth it. Sure, she would never have made it to the big leagues from her tiny intern desk, and sure, in communications classes she would have killed for a break like the one she had right now, but it was hard not to miss the veil of anonymity would have meant that Shayla was mostly free from Anthony’s leering.

  “Yes, I’ve been busy,” Shayla commented, smiling at the thought of how her taking the lead on the motorcycle club story probably irked him to no end.

  He’d wanted to do more of the coverage himself, of course, but Luke simply wouldn’t allow it. The story had been handpicked for Shayla’s touch, Luke had said. And he just hated Anthony Blake. Who wouldn’t? The smug asshole was great from afar, when you were watching him through miles of fiber optic cables from the safety of your own home, but he was an absolute menace in person.

  Shayla wasn’t sure why Anthony was even speaking to her now, but there was nothing good about him being in her office this long before the broadcast.

  “I saw that. You did a great job, newbie.” He winked conspiratorially. “I really felt like you got into the heart of the matter. Even if you did glaze over some of the less wholesome aspects.”

  Shayla gritted her teeth. She had shown exactly everything there was to see from Luke and his crew at present. Luke had been involved in some more risqué activities in the past, but he was all about keeping things above board and lawful now. He was a good man, and Anthony knew that. He was just trying to bait her.

  Shayla wouldn’t take it.

  “Thank you, Anthony.” She blinked and forced a grin. “I’ve got lots of work to do though, do you mind closing the door behind you when you go?”

  It was everything Shayla could do not to just yell at him to get out, but she had to keep her cool.

  Anthony did close the door, but he wasn’t on the other side of it when he did. He turned back to face her, not making any sort of quick explanation for why he’d clearly gone against her wishes.

  When he was still standing there looking smug after a couple seconds of Shayla peering up at him, with a quizzical expression on her face, it was time to ask. “Can I help you with something else, Anthony?”

  He cackled, the abrupt noise jarring Shayla and causing her to jump slightly in her seat. Her pulse quickened. What was he going to do? Why did he look so deliriously pleased with himself?

  Anthony slid onto the desk facing her, leaning down toward her face. His knees just brushed the tops of her fingers on the desk, and she retracted her hands quickly and slid back. He leisurely allowed his eyes to roam across her figure, causing her to flush with anger and humiliation. She was just about to yell at him to leave and threaten to call him out in front of everyone for his poor behavior, when Anthony pulled out his cell phone.

 
; “You know, I love the internet.” His gaze landed on the screen of his phone, though Shayla dared not let her attention wander. “There are so many things to see. Photos of cats. Videos of cats.” His eyes flicked to hers. “You get my drift.”

  Shayla nodded shortly. “Anthony, I really have work to do. Can you get to the point?” She tried to hide her anxiety behind a wall of confidence, but she worried he would see through the cracks to her quaking form beneath. Shayla could read through his posture and expression that Anthony had something big, and she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

  “I’m getting there. Humor me for a minute.” He looked back down at his phone and tapped a couple places on the screen. “I also love email. Did you know I get fan mail from all over the state?”

  Shayla found that hard to believe, but she forced a tight lipped smile. “That’s great. Good for you.”

  He nodded, his eyes still on the screen. Sound began to play quietly from the speakers. It was staticky and Shayla couldn’t decipher what was going on, but she could tell he was watching a video. Why was he wasting her time by watching videos in her office?

  “I got an email last week from an old friend of Luke’s, actually.”

  Shayla’s heart clenched in her chest. She wanted, for the first time, for Anthony to actually look at her. At least then she might be able to tell where this conversation was going. For now, he was completely in control, and there was no telling where this train of thought would end up.

  The video he was watching sounded like there was a faint whining sound in the distance. She could only hear it quietly, and closer to the microphone were snickers and breathing.

  “Do you want to see what they sent me?” Anthony’s eyes finally shot up to Shayla’s, and she nodded fiercely. He smirked and tapped on the screen, presumably restarting the video, and turned it so she could see.

  At first Shayla couldn’t tell what it was. The video was dark and pixelated, and she had the disadvantage of no context to help frame the image. Then it became horrifyingly clear. The video was of Luke and her in the graveyard—her writhing beneath him, him glorious and brutal, screwing her within an inch of her life. Now that she understood what the video was, she could tell that the sounds she’d heard were actually her screaming in pleasure.

  And it was definitely her. There would be no mistaking her face and Luke’s distinctive tattoos if she tried to contest that she was the subject of the video.

  Shayla looked back up at Anthony, her expression marred with hatred and fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could nearly feel it cracking against her ribs in a violent bid to escape. Her vision blurred ever-so-slightly, hands and face hot and cold at the same time. She recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. She tried to forget Anthony’s presence and focus her efforts on breathing to stave it off.

  “What is that?” she asked when her breath had returned enough for her to do so.

  She already knew what it was, and she knew Anthony knew that. Her question had really been meant to ask why he had it and what he was going to do with it. Things she couldn’t bear to ask properly.

  He pulled back his phone and glanced at the screen, a smile growing on his lips. “That is an exceptionally nice pair of tits bouncing as a woman’s career ends before it’s begun.” He clicked the lock button on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, smacking a hand on the thigh where it rested as if bidding it a good night.

  “Anthony.” Shayla didn’t know what else to say. Was this the part where she pleaded for his mercy? Should she be throwing herself at his feet? Or was the damage already too far done for her to be able to fix it by lowering herself to his level?

  “I love hearing you say my name.” His mouth twitched with amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you say it more often. Why don’t you come over for dinner the day after tomorrow? When we both have the night off?”

  Her breathing hitched. She didn’t know what else she could have expected from him. He was a cruel monster, and that was the kind of thing that cruel monsters did. Disgusting.

  “You want me to come have dinner with you?” she repeated slowly.

  Anthony nodded, leisurely standing from the desk, signaling their conversation was due to be over soon. “Maybe a couple drinks. We can see where things go.” The disgusting pig actually winked.

  There was no argument where things were going to go at her dinner and drinks rendezvous with Anthony. The only question that remained was whether Shayla had the guts or not.

  “I’ll consider it.” She gulped, her eyes struggling to keep contact with his.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like having plans up in the air, Shayla.” He enunciated her name like a curse word. “Either you’re coming or you’re not.”

  Goddamnit! How could he do this to her? How could anyone do this to another person? Shayla supposed the world was filled with assholes and cheats. It was only natural that she should have to deal with one of them someday.

  “Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll come for dinner.” She could hardly bring herself to say the word dinner, knowing what it implied.

  Anthony seemed amused by the exchange, his eyes alight. “Splendid.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, flashing her one more million-watt smile. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  When he closed the door behind him, it took all of Shayla’s will not to collapse in a heap on the floor. She shook, as if her whole body was trying to expel her previous encounter like a bad piece of chicken. She ached.

  She cried.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Luke had a lot to be grateful for. He also had a lot to be ungrateful for. Recently, the pros and cons of his life had begun to pile up, as if each was seeking to surpass the other. He’d managed to win the attention of a beautiful, kind woman, who caused him to burn with a desire that nearly consumed him. And then Anthony Blake and his scheming ex-wife had pulled the rug from beneath him, threatening to expose Shayla and his encounter in the cemetery and ruin both of their lives.

  It wasn’t a good spot to be in, and Luke felt like his teeth were always on edge. Yet, even though the situation seemed hopeless, he’d be damned before he gave up just because things looked tough. Anthony wanted him to stay away from Shayla. Raven wanted him to stay away from Shayla.

  Too bad he didn’t give a shit what either of them thought.

  Though he needed a little time to figure out how he was going to extract himself from the predicament, at least one more thing had popped up that he could add to his list of gratuities.

  Holly Masterson, the teen who’d been sold dirty drugs by the youngest brother of the Reapers MC, was awake.

  Rose, the girl’s best friend, had been told early this morning. Apparently she’d taken her bike over to Sparky’s house before he was awake, not satisfied with him not answering her phone calls. She’d dropped her bike on the front lawn and bounded through his door like a dark blur.

  As Sparky told the story, it was lucky he hadn’t had a girl with him. And that he’d gone to sleep wearing pajamas. Rose had a difficult time remembering that the reason Sparky’s door was never locked was because anyone breaking in would get their teeth broken before they had a chance to steal anything. She seemed to take it for granted that her new best friend and mentor was a rough and tough biker, often forgetting that he had scars for a reason.

  Nevertheless, Sparky was of course delighted that Rose’s friend had pulled through. Her parents had been the ones to call Rose. They’d been thrilled to see her taking such an active part in the campaign to keep Holly’s memory alive and at the forefront of youths’ minds when thinking about repeating her error. Less publicly, Rose had also been searching for the scumbag who’d sold Holly drugs in the first place. Holly’s parents, like Rose, wanted blood. The fact that the Trojans had stepped up to help them get it at Rose’s behest had endeared the girl to them eternally.

  Once Sparky had been roused from bed, he called Luke. Luke heard the sounds of Rose puttering in Sparky’
s kitchen in the background, making coffee for the two of them.

  “She’s turning eighteen soon, you know,” Luke commented quietly, though he knew he wasn’t on speakerphone. “I’m surprised she hasn’t started asking you to teach her how to ride.”

  Sparky didn’t answer immediately. When he did, all he could say for himself was, “Well…”

  Luke let out a bark of laughter. “So we’ll have our first female recruit soon,” he remarked. “Though I more object based on her age.”

  “I told her she has to wait until she’s twenty-one,” replied Sparky in a hushed tone. “Though I’m not sure that’ll hold her off. She’s persistent.”

  “Who would’ve thought?” Luke laughed. Rose had been all over Sparky since she’d first turned up at his doorstep, pushing for her revenge against the people responsible for harming her friend.