Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance (8 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The club was busy. Christian walked in, ignoring the pain in his knee. The brace helped, but not enough to stop him from limping.

A showdown in the club wasn’t ideal, but there was no choice. He managed the stairs and opened the door to Atticus’ office without knocking. The older man went to stand and Christian held up a hand, cutting him off. “Shut up and sit back down. Don’t speak or I swear, everyone in this place will know why I’m here.

“You’re going to tell me what it is that I did that has you so pissed off, and then we’re going to discuss a situation that needs clearing up.” Christian sat down in the chair across from the desk, watching the old man’s eyes spark with anger.

“You’re going to sit there and pretend like you don’t know what my problem is with you?” Atticus sat forward, hands fisted on top of the desk.

“I’m not pretending, and if you keep on with this tactic you’re going to regret it. Now talk, old man.” The level of Christian’s anger had passed furious. He was done playing games.

Atticus stood up, causing the chair behind him to fall over. “Get out my place. Get out and don’t you ever come back.”

Christian took his phone out of his pocket and showed it to Atticus. “Sit down. Unlike so many older members here, I have no problem allowing the cops to handle certain problems between club members.” Christian stood and leaned over, palms flat on Atticus’ desk . “We have one of those problems, me and you. So, make your choice—talk to me, or to the cops.”

They stared each other down for several long moments. It was Atticus who broke first. He looked away, then leaned down to pick up his chair and sit it in. He felt twenty years older than he was in that minute. “Sit down, boy.”

“That’s another thing that’s going to stop right now. You can either show me some respect, or we can start this all over again. I’m not a boy, and I’m not someone you can treat like shit. That little game is done.”

Atticus nodded. He gave the kid a point for standing up for himself, but it wasn’t enough to make him respect him. “What do you want, Christian?”

“I told you what I want. I want to know what it is that is so bad about me you’d pay to have me killed rather than deal with me one on one. So start talking.”

*****

Sandy couldn’t understand why Mariah would send her on a wild goose chase. Something was going on, and she was afraid that it had something to do with her Daddy. Had he done something to Mariah? There was only one way to find out.

She pulled into the club parking lot and went inside. Greeting a few people sitting at the bar, she headed upstairs to see if she could get her Daddy to talk to her. Plus, she needed to tell him that she was seeing Christian. It was time.

She got to the top of the stairs and froze as she heard Christian’s voice. What on earth was going on and why wasn’t he at home? She’d never heard him sound so coldly furious.

She tiptoed closer, putting her ear to the door. She wished she hadn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Lacey Cooper. Remember her?” Atticus said the words with enough venom to kill.

“I remember Lacey. She was a sweet girl. Kind of wild, but nice.” Christian’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. What the hell did Lacey have to do with anything?

“Lacey was my God-daughter. Did you know that? I loved that kid almost as much as I love Sandy. You knocked her up and sent her off to have an abortion so nobody would know. She died trying to get rid of your bastard kid. Bled to death. That’s what
YOU
did.” Atticus sat back, so angry that he was breathing hard. It didn’t feel good to get it off his chest like everyone always said. It felt like fire was eating him from the inside out. He wanted to wrap his hands around the little shit’s neck.

“I see. Let me guess, that information came from Gary, your former second?” Christian felt everything click into place. The reason he’d hated him taking the spot of the second. The reason he wanted him away from Sandy. The reason he’d hated him all this time was over another man’s lies.

“He told me everything. How you got her drunk before you fucked her, then pretended it didn’t happen when she came to you and told you that she was pregnant. How when she wouldn’t let it go you threw a wad of cash at her and told her to go ‘take care of it’. He told me every little detail that Lacey gave him when he was driving her up to Houston to have that abortion.”

Atticus’ face was twisted in rage, but Christian didn’t care. He was just as enraged, only because he’d been the unwitting scapegoat for someone else’s mistakes. “I never laid a hand on Lacey. Lacey was already involved with someone when I came here. Someone who didn’t want anyone to know about his little piece on the side. Especially his wife.”

“You think you can pin this off on someone else? Do you really expect me to believe that it was someone else? Especially considering the information came to me from someone I trusted with my life?” Atticus used his finger to punctuate each word.

“I guess you never bothered to ask just how far along Lacey was in her pregnancy, did you? Mariah knew. She was almost four months along. I’d only been here a month at the time Lacey left.”

All the color drained from Atticus’ face. “That can’t be true. Gary would have never lied to me. I can call Mariah right now and ask her.”

Christian sat back and gestured towards the phone on his desk. “Call her then.” He waited while the old man just sat there staring at him. He could see the wheels turning. “Gary was the father of Lacey’s baby. I guess I made a convenient scapegoat. If you’d ever bothered to find out anything about me, you’d have known that I would never let any woman who was pregnant with my child out of my sight.”

It couldn’t be true. He didn’t want it to be true. Gary had been more than a second, he’d been like a brother. Conversations they’d had about the situation came back to him. How he didn’t want Atticus to confront Christian and kick him out. That it had been a private matter and that, ultimately, Lacey had made the decision that cost her own life. That he couldn’t just kick Christian out of the club for something Lacey herself had wanted done.

Gary had lied to him. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he could tell that Christian was telling the truth. There was nothing in his eyes now but pity. “What have I done?”

The door opened behind him and Sandy walked into the room, unadulterated disgust on her face. “What you did, Daddy, was judge a man without any real evidence, then condemn him to years of mistreatment. You deserve to go to jail for what you had done to Christian. I thought you were better than this. Thought you were a man that people could look up too.”

“Sandy, please—” Atticus stood and reached out for his daughter but she pulled away, tears of anger and disgust running down her face. She shook her head at him then turned and ran out the door.

*****

Atticus made to go after her, but Christian stood and stopped him. “Let her go, Atticus. She needs time to calm down.”

The older man walked back to his desk and sat heavily in his chair. He didn’t know what to say or do. He’d been so angry that it had made him stupid. All these years of hatred would cost him his daughter. Mariah too, probably. “What are you going to do, Christian?”

“Question is, what are
you
going to do, Atticus?” Christian’s head was starting to hurt from all the stress and anger that had been riding him since Mariah had shown up at his door. “Right now, only a couple of people know what you did. You can be a coward, pretend it didn’t happen, and lose your entire family—or you can stand up and turn yourself in, take your punishment and start earning everyone’s respect back.”

Christian’s words shocked him. He’d figured that he’d call the cops, but he wasn’t doing that. He was giving him a chance to redeem himself. He’d obviously misjudged the young man. “Why would you do that after everything I’ve done?”

Taking a deep breath, Christian said the words that he’d never expected to say in his life. Words he thought would never be meant for someone like him. “Because I’m in love with your daughter, and I want her to be able to be proud of the men in her life. I’m doing it for her.”

Atticus nodded, then picked up the handset on the old phone in his office. “Who do I ask for?”

“Detective Mann. He’s a good guy.” Christian waited while he dialed and was patched through to the Detective.

While Atticus was talking, he pulled the disposable cell out of his drawer and set it on the desk. He wouldn’t be the only one going down today. When he hung up from the Detective, he dialed his lawyer and told him to come immediately to the office.

Atticus stood and walked around the desk, offering Christian his hand. There was a short moment when he thought the younger man might refuse, then he stood slowly and shook it. “Go find my daughter.”

Christian managed a small smile. “I know just where to look.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Much like the last time they’d been here, the sky was darkening with the possibility of a storm. The air seemed to crackle with electricity. He’d gotten one of the guys to drop him off at the entrance to the pond. This was her favorite place to go when she needed to think.

His leg was really hurting by the time he walked the hundred feet to where she was sitting on the picnic table where they’d had their first encounter. She was crying so hard that her body shook. She never even heard him coming up behind her.

She didn’t react when he put his hand on her back and pulled her against his chest. “Hey, pretty girl.”

Sandy just cried harder. How could he be here, trying to comfort her when her Daddy had nearly killed him with his hatred? It didn’t make sense. It was partially her fault. She’d known how her Daddy had felt, yet she’d gone against his wishes and started something with Christian that she shouldn’t have. Something that nearly cost him his life.

“You think I don’t know what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” Christian shifted her over and sat down, pulling her back against his chest immediately. “You’re blaming yourself for what happened. Thinking that if you’d never been with me that Atticus would never have done what he did.”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see my face again.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting on this crappy picnic bench, trying to find a way to make you stop crying because seeing you cry is killing me.” What he had to say was probably going to make it worse, but he wasn’t about to start lying to her now. “He turned himself in to Detective Mann. He wants to make this right. For you. For Mariah. He loves you both very much.”

Sandy sighed and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I know he loves us. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him again.”

“Do you believe people can change?” He took her hand in his and held on.

“Yeah, I do.” She leaned against his shoulder, looking out over the water. Lightning streaked across the sky and they could feel it on their skin. “Storm’s coming.”

Christian lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

EMILY STONE

CHAPTER ONE

Paxton Keller made several quick motions with his left hand and then pulled his motorcycle into the parking place in front of the Wild Kat Bar. Jimmy and Short John, his wingmen, pulled their bikes in alongside him, making sure, as he had, to keep the bikes pointed out toward the street in case this was a trap. Tommy, the front buffer, continued on around the block to look for signs of trouble. Dave, who had been riding back buffer, also pulled into the parking spaces, but his bike faced outward in the opposite direction of the others to give him a clear view of traffic approaching from the rear.

Pax sat astride his bike with his left foot holding him in balance. Out of habit, he revved the engine several times as he waited for Tommy to return. The Wild Kat wasn’t a biker bar—it was a college bar near the University of Arizona campus in Phoenix—but that didn’t mean it was safe. You didn’t have to be at a biker bar for it to be a trap. You didn’t have to be on enemy turf for them to kill you.

Short John put down his kickstand and dismounted. He stood beside his bike looking carefully at the surrounding streets and buildings. Rooftops were clear. No windows were dark and open. No vans were parked nearby.

Short John was almost six-four, but the former president of the Camden Knights was known as Long John, and so Short John, although much taller, was stuck with the name.

Actually, Long John was short. He was only about five foot eight. There were many women who believed that Long John’s name was accurate, but referred to a totally different aspect of his anatomy. The truth was, however, that it had nothing to do with height or physical endowment. When Pax and John were in grade school together, one of their teachers made them read Treasure Island. Since John’s last name was Silverman, he immediately became Long John Silverman after the pirate of a similar name in the book. Later he grew into his name, so to speak, and became somewhat of a legend in high school.

Now Long John was dead. It was an accident, or at least that was what the official police reports had said. Pax wasn’t so sure. Yes, it was a dangerous curve. Yes, the impact with the trees had been at high speed. Yes, it had all the signs of someone who had lost control on the curve and careened off the road into the trees. But something wasn’t right. If Long John was going off the curve into the trees, he would have dropped the bike. But the bike didn’t slide into the trees as if it had been laid down. It went into them head-on.

Maybe it was an accident. Motorcycles aren’t so much dangerous as they are unforgiving. Long John might have made some minor mistake that at lower speed in a wider curve wouldn’t have been significant. But at speed in that tight curve, it had been fatal.

Or, maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it was just shit luck. Maybe a deer or some other animal had run across the road in front of him. He could have even hit a bird or flying debris as he went into the curve. It could have been anything. It could have been an accident, but late last night Pax had received a whispered phone call that said: “If you want to know who killed Long John, be at the Wild Kat Bar at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”

That was all it said, but that was enough. So, tonight Paxton Keller, President-elect of the Camden Knights Motorcycle Club, waited outside the Wild Kat Bar while his bodyguards scanned for unknown enemies in the shadows around him.

Actually, his primary enemy was already known... the Hell’s Marauders. They were more of a protection association for the Hispanic community, but any power without accountability becomes corrupt. The Knights had.

The Marauders’ president, Theo Johnson, tried to keep them in line, but many of his members had relatives in Mexico and therefore access to drugs. They wanted to emulate the Camden Knights in bringing product north through the deserts of southern Arizona. Long John’s death could have been an attempt by the Marauders or some of their members to take over the Knights’ lucrative business. The Knights didn’t sell, and they didn’t buy. They just transported, but there was a lot of money to be made in that type of transportation when you were as good at it as the Knights were. They had never yet lost a shipment.