Devil's Property: The Faithless MC

by Claire St. Rose

  He wanted her. In every goddamn way. And he would get her.

  But not tonight.

  That didn’t mean Luke didn’t jerk off to the thought of her plump lips gliding down his cock once he got home though. And fuck, even that had been good. He couldn’t imagine what the real thing would be like—but he was determined to find out soon.

  ***

  The morning light streamed through Luke’s window, and he closed the blinds to block it out. He wasn’t feeling in a very sunny mood. He’d woken to a voicemail from KTMA TV’s number, and had eagerly listened to it, thinking it would be Shayla.

  It was just that producer lady, wanting to know if he’d contact her regarding doing a follow up story on Achilles. Did that woman never goddamn sleep? How was she already at the station? Did she live there or something?

  Luke deleted it, though he did stop for a moment and wonder if he’d be able to use his participation in the story as a bargaining chip to get Shayla’s number. He didn’t though, because he wanted to keep their little evening between them, and he knew he had other ways.

  Knowing Sparky wouldn’t be up for at least another couple of hours, Luke made some coffee and hunkered down on the couch, trying not to anxiously watch the clock. Sparky hadn’t gotten his name for being particularly full of energy, as many people thought. He was extraordinarily good with electronics, and liked to fix computers in his spare time. He was also a great hacker. There weren’t many bikers who also knew how to hack an employee database, but damn had that skill come in handy for Luke and the other Trojan members over the years.

  Too bad the guy was a night owl to the extreme.

  Luke flicked through the channels, finding nothing particularly enjoyable. Daytime TV sucked. He wasn’t sure why he expected any different. He was too wired to take a nap, though. It was the same reason he’d woken up so early. Luke was always an early riser, but that seemed to go twofold when he had unfinished business.

  And man, was his business with Shayla ever unfinished.

  Luke turned the TV off and groaned, heading to his bookshelves. He had already read everything there several times. It was time to go back to the library. Why had he put it off so long? He was now reaping the reward of his procrastination, and it made him want to scream.

  Then he remembered the copy of The Aeneid in his jeans from yesterday, and hunted them down in his room. He slumped back onto the sofa moments later, nose deep in verse. It was the kind of reading that deserved more attention, so he would probably have to reread the sections he was reading now, when he was less distracted, but it would still help keep his mind off things for the moment.

  He decided he would call Sparky no later than noon. If the guy didn’t answer the first time, he’d keep calling. Or go over to the hole that Sparky called home. But, come hell or high water, by one he’d have Shayla’s phone number, and he was finishing their goddamn business.

  ***

  At ten forty-five, well before he expected Sparky to even be awake, much less aware, his phone rang and Sparky’s number blazed on the screen. Luke hit the accept button and put the phone to his ear.

  “I’ve been waiting to call you. I thought you would be asleep,” Luke said.

  “I wish I was, man.” Sparky’s voice was agitated. “We’ve got trouble.”

  Luke bolted upright in his seat, letting the book slide out of his lap and onto the floor. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I need you to come over here and talk to someone. I’d put her on the phone, but I think you’ll want to speak to her in person.”

  That had Luke’s attention. “I’ll be there in five.”

  He darted off the couch and grabbed his jacket, slamming his front door behind him as he went. If Sparky was calling him about trouble, and if he had to go somewhere and talk to someone in person, then there was fucking trouble. Sparky was his right hand man. He could deal with most problems by himself without having to get the MC president involved.

  The last time Sparky had called him and said he needed to talk, Luke’s life had changed—and it hadn’t been for the better.

  Luke hopped astride his bike and peeled off, causing a racket that would have normally thrilled him. But not today. Not when there was something serious happening. His mind raced. Could the woman there be Shayla? Would she have somehow found Sparky if she needed to talk to him but didn’t have a way to? It was all too much. He should have just fucking asked what the girl's’ name was before getting himself all worked up.

  Luckily, Sparky’s place was close by. Luke slotted his bike in the driveway next to Sparky's and bounded up the steps, bursting through the door without so much as a knock or a holler.

  “In here,” Sparky called from the living room.

  Luke’s boots pounded against the laminate, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. He prepared for the worst. He could hear quiet sobs. A woman. He prepared to see Shayla bloodied and broken, crying and ruing the day she ever met him.

  But the woman crying on Sparky’s couch wasn’t a woman at all. She was a girl, no more than sixteen years old. Her hair was inky black, but the blonde roots showed through at her scalp. Her clothes were tight and black, with rips and tears that looked like they’d been put there for fashion, not through use. She had been wearing heavy eyeliner and mascara, but her tears had smeared her makeup down her pink cheeks.

  He was ashamed at how much relief flooded through them.

  “Who is this?” he asked Sparky, allowing his face to soften into something a little less likely to frighten the girl.

  Sparky was seated next to her, rubbing her back with one hand but looking very uncomfortable about it. “This is Rose.” He gave her back a pat. “Rose, just tell him what you told me.”

  Luke walked over to the coffee table and dragged it back a bit so that he could sit on it without being right in her face. He looked at her expectantly, and watched as she took a couple of steadying breaths.

  “My best friend Holly and I were at a party yesterday, and we were both pretty drunk.” Her voice was strained and cracked, like she’d used up all of it on her sobs. “This guy came up to us and asked if we were looking to score. Neither of us had done ecstasy before, but he told us it was the most amazing high. He was cute and Holly thought he was into her, but when we said we’d think about it he just kinda like...I don’t know...moved onto the next girls.”

  Rose sniffled, wiping her nose on her arm. Luke didn’t like where this story was going. He didn’t know how it had anything to do with his crew, but the thought of some guy pressuring teenage girls into doing drugs already had his back up.

  “So anyway, Holly starts saying she’s going to do it. That she really wants this guy to like her and whatever. But I didn’t want to do it, and I wanted to make sure that he didn’t drug her and rape her or something, so we bought some, but I only pretended to take mine.”

  Smart girl. Luke liked her.

  She broke down even further, and he knew that whatever came next was going to break his heart, and he’d probably end up breaking someone’s face.

  “And then...Oh god... She just fucking passed out. Like starting seizing, right in the middle of the fucking party. I thought he’d fucking poisoned her, but I was too busy calling an ambulance to confront him. Then when they came and got her I couldn’t see him anywhere.” She put her face in her hands. “The doctors said it was cut with something, but like she would have been fine except whatever it was, she was allergic to it.”

  Luke swore under his breath. “Did she....”

  The girl looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “She’s not dead.” She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “But she’s in a coma. They don’t know if she’ll come back. And it’s all my fault! I should have never let her do it!”

  Sobs wracked her shoulders again and Sparky continued his awkward comforting.

  The story pissed him off, but he still didn’t understand why it had anything to do with him. How had she come to Sparky? Why has Luke be
en called in to deal with it? He looked at Sparky, his eyes full of those questions, and Sparky tilted his head down to the girl. “Rose, this is not your fault. She made the decision, and you did the responsible thing by taking care of her. I’m going to go talk to Luke and explain the rest of it, okay? You’ve done everything you could. We’ll make sure it’s taken care of from here.”

  She nodded, her face still in her hands, and Sparky gave her one more pat and stood up. He grabbed a blanket from the other end of the couch and draped it over the girl. “You can stay here and rest as long as you like, Rose. No one can hurt you here. We’ll take care of you.”

  She nodded again and slumped down sideways, bringing her knees to her chest and clutching the blanket tightly. Sparky ushered Luke into the other room.

  When they were out of earshot, Sparky’s face grew grim. “She lives just down the street from me. That’s why she knew how to find me.”

  Luke furrowed his brow. “But why did she come to you? It wouldn’t be one of our guys, and we can’t control what shithead teenage dealers are doing these days. I want to help, but I don’t see how we can.”

  Sparky shook his head. “She didn’t come to me so that I could get revenge for her. She came to get revenge for herself. She said she remembered the guy having a biker jacket on, and I was the only guy she knew with any biker connections.”

  Luke’s blood turned to ice. “She was in our territory when this happened?”

  Sparky nodded.

  Luke’s guys hadn’t sold drugs in years. Every MC went through that phase, and some stuck with it past when they needed to because it was lucrative. The Trojans had found other ways to make money that didn’t end up with comatose teenagers on their conscience. But Luke knew it hadn’t been one of his guys disobeying orders.

  It had to have been another fucking gang. And there was only one gang that it could have been, and they weren’t supposed to so much as think about selling drugs on Trojan turf.

  “Goddamnit.” Luke gritted his teeth and suppressed a cry of rage. “What am I supposed to do with this, Sparky?”

  Sparky shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We’ve got to get more info on this before we start an all-out war. It sucks ass, but we’re going to have to bite the bullet for the moment.”

  Luke gestured toward the living room. “And her? When does she get her pound of flesh?” He wanted to go back into that room and get the best physical description he could get of the guy and his colors and go stomp assholes until the guilty party had paid for their crime.

  Sparky rested a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “We will fix this. We will make a show of force. And we will make such an example out of the prick who did this that nobody will ever sling on our turf again. But we need to be patient.”

  Luke blinked, trying to clear the red from his vision. Sparky was right. That was why Luke trusted him so much, why he valued his counsel. Luke knew he could be a bit hotheaded, and Sparky was the one who told him which battles were worth the wounds. And vice versa.

  “What should we do first?” Luke asked, running his hand through his hair.

  “What do you want to do first?”

  Luke gave him a flat look.

  Sparky put his hands up. “Listen, there’s a reason you’re in charge and not me. I only know what we shouldn’t do.”

  Luke paced. “We need to send flowers to the girl’s parents. Or something like that. Whatever the hell you’re supposed to do in those situations.”

  “Won’t that look like an apology? Like an admission of guilt?”

  “It’s the only way we can get a message through to them without spooking them. Put something in it makes it clear we aren’t responsible, but we will find and punish the ones who are. Something comforting. But write it vaguely enough that it wouldn’t stand up in court.”

  “The Reapers wouldn’t rat on us.”

  Luke gave him a wry smile. “They aren’t supposed to sell in our territory, either. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Good call.”

  Luke stopped and rubbed his chin. “There is a chance that this guy was from out of area. It’s a tiny chance, considering how well-known it is in the community that we’ll fuck up anyone who sells here, but it’s a chance.”

  “He might also have been a Reaper, but not doing work for them.”

  “Good point. We need to get in contact with Herman, ask him if any of his guys have gone off the rails recently. Or if he’s noticed any out-of-towners in his area.”

  “He’ll lie if it was his doing,” Sparky reminded.

  Luke shook his head. “That’s fine. But his actions don't lie. Put guys on to watch him when you make the call. See what he does and report back to me.”

  Sparky smiled. “I told you there was a reason that you’re in charge and not me.”

  Luke rolled his eyes, even though he felt a little sliver of pride bloom in his chest. It made him furious that someone had the audacity to try and sell somewhere that Luke had spent the last four years clearing of drug activity. He couldn’t control all the dealers, but most steered clear because they knew that any sort of high profit yield would just bring the Trojans down on them.

  People were going to do drugs whether they could buy them in his part of the city or not. Luke knew that. What he absolutely couldn’t stand for was people pushing drugs onto kids like Holly and Rose. Especially when they were diluting the product with poison to increase their profit margins.

  Holly could die because one guy wanted to make a quick buck.

  “Is there anything we can do for Rose right now?” Luke asked, stopping and turning to Sparky. “You’ve spent more time with her. What does she want?”

  Sparky shrugged, shaking his head. “She wants revenge, man. She came to my door looking for a fight, broke down as soon as I got to the root of the problem.” He looked sadly in the direction of the weeping teenager. “She feels so goddamn guilty.”

  Luke’s rage grew again on behalf of the broken girl. If Holly died, two lives would be gone forever. Whatever guilt-ridden shell of Rose remained, she would never be able to get over her friend’s death. Not really. She was too young to be having to face this kind of horror.

  “Wait until tomorrow to call Herman,” Luke said. “And tell him that you saw it on the news. I don’t want him knowing Rose came to us.”

  Sparky nodded.

  “When she’s rested a bit, try to see if she can remember any details from the jacket the guy was wearing. Don’t tell her what the Reaper jackets look like, just let her remember it on her own. If she can’t remember, tell her that’s okay.”

  “Should I like...call her parents or something?”

  Luke shook his head. “She’s on your couch right now. That means she’s comfortable with you. I’d imagine we’re the only ones who haven’t looked at her with even a smidge of judgement, so she’ll probably want to stick around for a bit longer. Until she can face the rest of them, at least.”

  Sparky rubbed his hand across his face. “I still can’t believe this is happening here. They’re so young….and one of them might not make it because of this.”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Which is exactly why we stopped selling fucking drugs here in the first place.”

  Luke left Sparky, telling him to call if he needed anything. For now? Luke needed a ride. He hopped on the back of his bike and rumbled out of the driveway, conscious of the girl still in Sparky’s living room and not wanting to startle her. As soon as he got down the street, though, he revved his engine as hard as he could and took off in a burst of speed, as if he could outrun his problems.

  When he’d woken up, his biggest issue was that the girl he wanted to fuck had ditched him at the bar last night. Now there was the possibility of a goddamn gang war. Things had been so much easier yesterday, when he’d had a woman in his bed and a kitten in his lap and not a care in the goddamn world.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dialing a phone number was difficult
with fingers that felt more like sausages than fingers. That was Shayla’s lesson for the day.

  Though she’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep, she had still woken up way too early to call up Luke and apologize. She’d only end up having to call him another time to apologize for calling him so early with her first apology.

  So Shayla had made some coffee, cut up some strawberries, and curled up on her couch with her newspaper. Normally, there wasn’t much to read about in the Templeton Gazette. Especially on a Saturday. More often than not, stories even more idiotic than her biker/kitten story would earn the first page spot. That meant that the rest of the newspaper was essentially drivel.