Sympathy For Diablo (Breathless Eternity #1)

by S. E. Chardou

  It would be different if I’d never met this chick and she’d never infested me with her spunky attitude and the light inside her that spoke to me on more of a visceral level than any woman I’d ever met since my first love. Her beauty had initially attracted me but it was the rest of her package that made me want to keep her.

  Would that be possible? I had no idea since I didn’t even have a fucking clue where the hell she was at the moment.

  There was a knock on my suite door I could hear faintly over the loud guitar riffs. I sat up but was too late to stop Lizzy from coming into my room. She wore a barely there Chinese-style silk dress that barely came to mid-thigh. The deep emerald color complimented her fair skin and she held Zero’s Samsung Galaxy phone in her hand.

  “Oops, I hope I didn’t interrupt you.” Her face carried a slight crimson tint but I didn’t know if it was all the alcohol she’d consumed or genuine embarrassment.

  “What’s up?” I rubbed my hands over my face as “Gravity” competed with Lana Del Rey’s “Art Deco” playing in the main room.

  “It’s your dad. He called Zero’s cell ‘cause he said he couldn’t reach you on yours.”

  I stood, my head spinning from all the vodka I consumed but it would take a lot more to make me physically sick. I rarely ever got sick. Besides, if I rolled a joint, I’d be fine.

  “Thanks,” I replied and met her halfway.

  Lizzy didn’t let go of the phone right away. Our skin touched though her blue eyes were bright with slight worry despite her cheery attitude. “Listen, don’t pay any attention to Angie. She’s always been extremely judgmental and self-righteous. I saw that supposed text from Sierra. Wouldn’t surprise me if she got a hold of Sierra’s phone and sent it to herself. She doesn’t like you but as for me, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I think you’re a good guy beneath your entire bad boy persona, and you make her happy. Sierra hasn’t glowed like she has since she met you in like . . . forever. You must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

  “Well, it’s good that not all her friends hate me,” I murmured as the blonde let go of the phone.

  Lizzy laughed out loud. “If you ask me, I think Angie’s just jealous. We all know you were her favorite member of the band. To be honest, I think she hoped you noticed her before Sierra. Just my personal opinion.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Definitely Zero. For me, it’s always been Zero. That man is walking, talking sex. I mean, I know he’s promised to another woman and everything but he’s so intelligent and what he can do in bed—my God, I need a cold shower right now to get through the rest of the party!” She turned away and walked out, closing the double doors behind her.

  I almost forget my dad was on the phone until he began to talk. I lifted the mobile to my ear. “What’s going on, Pop?”

  “Listen, I know this is highly unorthodox but I need you to get here tomorrow.”

  “I said I was coming home—”

  “Let me speak to him,” my mother said, snatching the phone from him. “Adrien, you need to be here tomorrow. Not by bus. Get a flight here, do you understand me?”

  “Maman, I can leave tonight if it’s that serious.”

  “No. You’re drunk and we can wait until tomorrow. Just get here and when you arrive safe and sound, we’ll talk about it, okay? Stop drinking, pass the fuck out, and leave on the first flight tomorrow, okay.”

  My heart began to speed up. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. Neither of them were making a damn bit of sense.

  “Are you or Pop sick? What’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing like that but I know you’re not going to be disappointed when you get here. Just promise me you’re coming here tomorrow?”

  I shook my head that my mother was pulling this card at all. I’d never refused her anything and she knew that. “Yes, Maman, I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise.”

  “Good. See you then.” I could hear my mother talking to my dad. “You see, that is how you do it. Why do you insist on reasoning with him? He’s busy and he will come up with every excuse—that’s how he got the nickname Diablo—he’s a little devil but he’s still my son—”

  The phone call ended on their end and I stared at the face of Zero’s mobile. The call had indeed ended.

  My own music ended and I threw the phone next to me as I drifted off listening to In This Moment’s “Burn” while it played in the main room. It certainly seemed appropriate with the way I was feeling at the moment, and my current state of mind.

  FOR THE FIRST time in forever, I wished I could sleep in but Annalise burst into my room shortly after seven in the morning.

  “Bonjour, ma chérie! The parental figures are still passed out so let’s smoke this joint and then I’ll get started on breakfast.”

  She lit up the joint and dragged from it before handing it to me. I dragged from it and still couldn’t hold the smoke in my lungs for more than three seconds before coughing.

  “Jeez, what is in that stuff?” I questioned between coughs.

  “It’s one hundred percent natural chronic but it’s not that weak shit you Americans have—this is Amsterdam grade. My father makes a killing off of it.”

  “I can see why but seriously, if I go through another breakfast with Asian eyes due to the fact you and I have been blazin’ first thing in the morning, your parents are gonna worry about what kind of person I am, and whether I’m just with Adrien because of his money.” I got out of bed and began pacing back and forth.

  Annalise just stared at me with those matching sky blue eyes her brother had and flaxen blonde hair that came to her shoulder blades with chunky ombre sections that went from pale green to the deepest turquoise.

  She certainly wasn’t what I was expecting—a highly educated young woman who happened to be two years older than me. She certainly wasn’t some naïve babe in the woods with her Accounting Degree from HEC Paris. In fact, she did all the books for the MC. She knew everything about the operation but that didn’t stop her from being a great woman to hang out with nor did it put a damper on how much fun she could be.

  “Stop pacing—you drive me crazy when you do that.”

  I sat next to her as she continued to smoke the joint before offering it to me again. I dragged once more just because it would seem rude to refuse her.

  The story of how I ended up leaving a roadside café after Sorsha and her hired help abandoned me to my arrival at the country home of the President of the Sons of Demons MC was quite a tale no one would believe.

  As soon as the police arrived with an ambulance in tow, I was taken to the nearest hospital, checked out, put on a saline drip for dehydration and given my own room. I didn’t have to speak a word of English or French because the first call made by the Police officer in charge was to Paul “Shady” Bissette. They deduced if a couple of bikers had abducted me in the first place then maybe I had something to do with SOD MC.

  Shady and his old lady, Marie, picked me up before the end of the day from the hospital. They had plenty of questions to ask me but once I mentioned Adrien and how I was abducted on my way to catching a flight that would have taken me to Nice, their whole attitude changed.

  They didn’t take me to the clubhouse but their home out in the country. They had cows, goats, chickens, and pigs, which provided most of the food along with a garden Marie maintained that had tomatoes, garlic, cucumbers, potatoes and eggplant.

  Diablo’s family welcomed me into their home like I wasn’t a stranger but a personal guest. I couldn’t communicate with him since the iPhone he’d given me had been smashed to pieces after it slipped from my hand and the ambulance accidentally rolled over it as they were leaving the premises of the greasy spoon.

  However, Annalise assured me she would get in contact and let Adrien know I was all right. Unfortunately, she failed to mention their little falling out, and how he wasn’t taking her calls but he had her texts on “block” feature. Everything she sent him bounced back on
ly to say the “User has blocked phone calls and texts from this particular number.”

  After that nightmare, Shady and Marie finally called Adrien and told him he would have to take a plane to come home as soon as the tour ended.

  A part of me was so happy to finally see him in the flesh. I didn’t know what to do while the other side of me worried that he would think this was all some kind of stunt. I needed a little attention—more than he was giving me so I dreamed this whole scenario up.

  It shocked the shit out of me that I was with Sorsha and her crew for over a week. It felt like a lot less time. Not to mention I had no idea what other texts she’d sent him because she never asked me for my input again.

  I also had the whole issue of the bitch had plausible deniability. All I could claim was two bikers abducted me. No one would believe Sorsha MacKintosh knew characters of the sort not to mention that she would pull such a foolish scheme. I’m sure she had famous celebutante friends that would come all out of the woodwork and claim she was partying with them in Corsica, the Greek Islands, the South of France—anywhere but far away from where my abduction occurred. I would end up looking like a damn fruitcake and she would get away with murder.

  If I had a hard time believing it, and it had happened to me, then how could I possibly get Adrien to believe it? He’d think I truly had cold feet, couldn’t go through it, and wanted to get back to my old, cushiony life in the States where the worse thing that could happen was picking out a dress for my mother’s latest charity ball event.

  That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I had no wish to go back to the States at all. I didn’t know how I planned on breaking it to my friends but I wanted to give Adrien and me a shot. I’d never done anything so completely reckless and out of character but I was ready to live. If my abduction had taught me anything, it had put my life in perspective. I could have died and what would I have had to show for my life except for a Bachelors degree? I hadn’t really experienced any event as freeing and eye opening as my affair with Diablo and I wanted to see where we could go. Even if we crashed and burned, at least I would have the opportunity to say that I did try my hand at love—real, passionate, can’t-live-without-you love—and although it didn’t work out, it was one hell of a ride. That would be a story worth telling to my grandchildren, not how I played it safe, and hoped nothing out of the ordinary happened because I was too afraid I couldn’t handle it.

  “Hello . . . earth to Sierra.” Annalise held the joint in front of my face. “One more toke and we can go cook. I’m starving.”

  I dragged from it and gave it back to her before she put it out in and ashtray next to the bed.

  “What were you thinking about? I tried talking to you and you completely blanked me out.” Her ethereal features, porcelain white skin and bright blue eyes worked to make me feel even more ashamed than getting carried away with my thoughts.

  “I don’t know what to tell Adrien.” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail nervously while the chronic lazily made its way through my veins. “I mean, I can’t tell him the truth. Who would believe a celebutante would do that? Everything will be blamed on the heroin they pumped me up with when they first abducted me—you know that as well as I do.”

  Annalise held my hands in hers. “Stranger things have been known to happen and besides, I never liked Sorsha. She’s always had some shady friends so this isn’t beyond something she would do. And all that obsessive talk about Damien fits her sick, twisted modus operandi. The girl has always had some kind obsessive . . . weird fixation on Damien. It was strange. I mean, even when she came here, her first question would be about Damien.”

  “Yeah, she got mad at me when I tried to talk to her about it. She thought I crushed on Damien, which I don’t, and accused me of the only way I would get him was through incest.” I shook my head, enjoying my chronic buzz. “The bitch wasn’t making any sense.”

  I looked over at Annalise who suddenly looked like the cat that ate the canary. “Sorsha mentioned incest to you directly?”

  “Yeah. She asked me about my mother—grilled me actually but it’s all a bit fuzzy. I was under the influence of a narcotic for God’s sake. Who knows? I could have made up the whole conversation in my head.” I wrapped an arm around Annalise’s slim shoulders and pulled her closer to me.

  “No, I’m afraid you didn’t make it up, Sierra.” She stared at me with those bluer than blue eyes. “Looks like the chickens have come home to roost. I have to speak to Papa and Maman—”

  “I thought we were gonna make breakfast together!”

  Annalise turned toward me and smiled. “Don’t worry, Maman will be making it. Adrien should be home by ten o’clock so she’ll want it to be special. It was supposed to be a surprise but I guess I ruined it. He’s here to see you, Sierra. He thought you ran out on him.”

  My heart began to thrum in my chest as I smiled. “OMG—I mean I can’t believe it! I don’t have anything to wear. All my good stuff is back at his apartment in Paris.”

  “Rummage through my closet. I know I am a thirty-four but there has to be some clothes that will compliment your size thirty-six body.”

  I stood and walked to Annalise’s room as soon as she disappeared on me.

  “Fat chance,” I mumbled out loud. The odds of me finding anything decent to wear in her closet was close to nil.

  SURPRISINGLY, I FOUND quite a few gems in Annalise’s closet. Turns out she’d visited America and bought several pairs of jeans, a couple of gorgeous dresses and tops, all in a size four. Due to her being a true size four, she should have bought the clothes in an American size two since they were too big for her slender frame. There was no such thing as a size zero in France. The clothes started at a size thirty—the equivalent of our size zero but meant for petite Asian women who visited and shopped frequently when they visited the country—and usually ended at a size forty-two, a size twelve in American clothing.

  However, unlike clothes in the States, there was not any give to the sizes. You either were that particular size or you would have to buy a size up. France certainly didn’t believe in “vanity” sizes like we did.

  I finally settled on a pair of Guess jeans that molded to my body and a scarlet, short-sleeved lace top, which I wore a scarlet bandeau-style bra below. I brushed out my hair with my heart thundering in my chest and managed to put the fitting touches on dark brown eyeliner, mascara and dark red lip gloss that warmed my lips.

  I had to look good for the moment Adrien saw me again just because it’d almost been two weeks since we’d seen each other, and what ate at me wasn’t the time we’d been apart but the thought in his head that I’d purposely abandoned him when I’d never have done such a horrible thing.

  The hairbrush was in my hand as I continued to futz around with my hair as Annalise yelled, “Get your ass downstairs! Breakfast is ready and your surprise will be here soon!”

  No one could accuse her of being subtle, that’s for sure. Then again, that’s what made her so easy to like and a breeze to talk to. She didn’t believe in bullshit and she was much smarter than her wild hair and joie de vivre disposition led people to believe.

  I breathed deeply and looked in the mirror once more before I made my way downstairs and walked into the dining room.

  I knew for a fact that Annalise and I had been up for awhile but not as long as Marie it appeared. She’d made Quiche Lorraine, French toast, a large dish of cut up fresh fruit, fresh baguettes from the boulangerie less than a mile from their home, and her homemade fruit preserves along with freshly churned butter on the table.

  There was also freshly squeezed orange juice and milk directly from the cows set out in carafes, along with a fresh pot of coffee. I looked at the spread of food and couldn’t help but be amazed Marie had done this all by herself.

  “Your mother did all of this for Adrien?” I asked Annalise as I took a seat beside her.

  “Course not. Jean-Paul is also showing up today. I can’t wait to see h
im. It’s been so long—it feels like forever. I can’t wait until we can just go ahead and get everything over with. I am so tired of this long-distance thing.” She broke off a piece of baguette, buttered it and began to eat.

  “Shouldn’t we wait?” She looked at me shrugged as she continued to eat her piece of bread. “Why can’t you and Zero just do it now? What’s the holdup?”

  Annalise stopped chewing and swallowed the piece of bread in her mouth. “He’s not a member of the club. In order for him to marry me and for me to become his old lady, he has to accept being a member of the club and being in a rock band. It’s just a formality but he won’t do it. He doesn’t want to be a part of SOD. To be honest, I really think it comes down to the fact that he doesn’t want to stop playing the field. Once we’re together, no more groupies and no more pussy, except mine of course. A lot of guys are kinda funny when they think they’re being tied down. Unfortunately, Jean-Paul is one of them.”

  I grabbed a piece of the baguette Annalise had already ruined and bit heartily into it. “So, none of the guys are part of the club so . . . why would your dad insist Zero do something like that? I mean . . . I won’t name names but I do know rock stars that are in a powerful MC and it makes their life a living hell. They don’t do much but give five percent of their salary to the club but still . . .” I shrugged my shoulders. “It doesn’t seem fair to them. They’re in the public eye and if the public or God forbid, TMZ, found out, there would be some pretty heavy fires to put out. It doesn’t seem prudent at all.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know what rockers you’re talking about. Linx Carter from Winter’s Regret. Kaz Gillian and Jaden Cox from Scarlet Fever. They’re all members of Lucifer’s Saints but there is no way it would get out. That club—it’s not one you wanna fuck around with. They have direct ties to the FBI, SIS and Interpol—”

  “SIS? You mean the British Secret Service?”

  “Also known as MI-6? Yeah, the very same agency. Why do you think Pop is so fuckin’ buddy-buddy with Dizzy Cox, their Prez? The moment members from the Rotterdam chapter of the White Knights MC entered French soil, my dad was on the phone with Hardy Cox. He passed the info to his brother, Dizzy. There’s a reason why les flics leave us alone. Besides my maternal grandfather being a member of DGSI—Direction générale de la sécurité intérieure.”