Damaged: MC Meets Mafia Romance (The Devil's Deviants MC Series Book 2), page 1
BOOK TWO IN THE DEVIL’S DEVIANTS MC SERIES
Copyright @ 2023 Gladys Cross
Individuals depicted in the images on the cover are models used solely for the purpose of illustration.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author Gladys Cross, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author Gladys Cross’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
The author Gladys Cross acknowledges the trademark ownership of various products and brands, actors names, television shows, books, characters, video games, and films which are referenced in this work of fiction without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
DAMAGED, THE DEVILS DEVIANTS MC
ASIN: B0C6WS9SM7 ISBN: 9798859899494
Cover design by: Rocking Book Covers
Editing by: Revision Division, Kimberly Hunt
Author’s Note:
Damaged is a dark MC romance and may contain subject matter that might offend sensitive readers. In this series you can expect to encounter violence, murder, death, profanity, explicit sexual situations with BDSM themes, drugs, tobacco use, PTSD, references to mental health, suspense, crime, and characters with questionable morals. Reader discretion is advised.
Join the Boys of the MC for
Dark Deeds and even Darker Delights.
Pops, Founder (San Antonio)
Ryder, President
Hunter, Vice President
Tweak, Secretary
Gunner, Treasurer
Beast, Road Captain
Cannon, Sergeant at Arms
Mad Dog, Original Member
Dagger, Original Member
Colt, Member
Marco, Prospect
Switch, Transferred Charters
It took a monster to find beauty in the Damaged.
Rain fell in sheets, pelting my skin with cool, sharp stings. If only I experienced emotions the way I did the rain, then I wouldn’t have to pretend. A portion of my brain was always devoted to gauging the reactions of others and then mimicking them. Like a color-blind pilot who faked knowing the difference between red and green in order to fly, assimilation was necessary, but exhausting.
Around the club I’d grown lax, allowing them to see a hint of the ever-present numbness that lived inside of me. It was a relief to let my guard down and have them accept me for the monster I was. That was no small thing considering I suffered the same affliction as my father, the notorious head of the Braterstwo, Yuri Kowalczyk a.k.a. The Butcher. It seemed in death, he’d done what he never could in life, get me to return to Chicago.
My bike hugged the asphalt as I sped around the last curve, my childhood home coming into view. The Gothic style mansion, with its gray brick exterior, single spire shooting up from the center of the roofline, and turrets at either end, looked exactly as I remembered. Heavily armed men patrolled the matching fifteen-foot brick walls, iron gate, and guardhouse. It was more of a fortress than home. Fitting, really, considering the countless horrors it had witnessed over the years.
The roar of the bike announced my arrival long before I rolled to a stop in front of the guards. Two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, stances wide, in front of the imposing wrought iron gate. One of them squinted at me through the rain, recognition lighting his craggy face. Marek had been with my father longer than most, had been a trusted lieutenant, so why was he doing the job of a foot soldier?
“It’s been a long time, Mikołaj.” He stepped forward, his short mop of curly hair more salt and pepper than black now as it dripped into his face. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“That makes two of us. Did Piotr not think I’d be brave enough to step inside without a familiar face to greet me?”
Marek’s dark eyes flashed at the mention of my brother. Piotr must have demoted him out of some imagined slight. He’d been itching for a crack at my birthright since we were boys, and with Father passing, and me MIA, he must be drunk on power.
“Something like that.” He never took his eyes off me as he called over his shoulder. “Open the gate and let the boss know his brother has arrived.”
Marek backed away as the gate swung outward, both men watching through narrowed eyes as I roared past. The two-lane road gradually sloped upward until it flattened out into a circular drive by the front door. Killing the engine, I got off my bike, staring up the steps. Those brown double doors were a sight I’d hoped to never see again.
One of them opened, the slight figure of my sister Bea filling the doorway, her blond brow arched. “Were you planning to stand out in the rain all day?”
She’d been but a girl when I left, our father’s blood still dripping from my hands. A girl who’d seen too much horror, yet here she was, a light of vitality shining from her pale blue eyes. I hadn’t wanted to leave her behind, but I knew walking out the front door meant I’d be marked for death. Whenever it found me, she’d be guilty by association, and most likely be taken out as well.
My soggy boots felt heavier than they should have as I trudged up the stone steps. Bea stepped back from the door to make room, her guard’s familiar face coming into view. From his post by the stairs, he met my eyes, inclining his head in greeting.
Bea ignored her shadow, her eyes wandering over me, a slender hand tracing over the new VP patch sewn onto my cut.
“They call you Hunter.” She pointed to the other side where my road name was sewn on. “Why?”
“Most of us within the club have nicknames. Mine comes from my ability to find missing objects, or upon occasion, the person who would rather remain hidden.”
“You know a thing or two about remaining concealed.” She raised her eyes to mine, a flash of emotion flickered in their depths, gone before I could even put a name to it. “I’m afraid you should have stayed that way.”
At the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs, I turned my head. Piotr stood on the red carpet of the landing, sneering down at us, two guards I’d never seen before shadowing him. Time stood still for a second as we stared at one another, then as if catching himself, he pasted on a fake smile and started down the steps. He ran a hand down his royal blue suit jacket, smoothing it out as he moved. The little cunt had always enjoyed putting on a show.
“The eldest son finally returns.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. His smile fell as he stopped to dig around in his pants pocket for it, his lips returning to their usual sneer.
“What,” he barked into it. Looking down at me from his perch on the steps, he said, “Let them in.”
His entrance ruined, he hung up the phone, shoved it back into in his pocket, and jogged down the remaining steps. The slap of his dress shoes echoed off the black and white tile as he hurried toward us, his shadows seamlessly keeping up with him.
Out of necessity, I’d become an expert at recognizing in others what I lacked the ability to feel. Right now, I’d say my brother was positively giddy. Why, though, was a bit of a mystery. Not because I couldn’t relate, but because I’d never seen it in my brother before. At least, not while I was around.
He’d never hidden his hatred for me, and I appreciated that about him. It was much easier to watch your back when you knew where the knife was coming from.
“It seems our dear brother didn’t come alone after all.”
My hands flew across the keyboard, one of the three screens in front of me flashing as the red dot started to move. Jackpot! Metallica blared from my headphones as I clicked the mouse, zooming in. The background of the map was a blob of gray with bisecting white lines, and as I tried to move in for a closer look, the wheel of my chair caught on the tear in my plastic mat.
“Shit,” I muttered, lifting my butt and jerking on the chair.
A chair that leaned precariously to the side I could deal with, but this mat had to go. People always talked about how the government loved to waste money, but they sure didn’t do that around here. Pretty soon, they were going to ask field agents to throw bullets at the bad guys so they wouldn’t have to buy any more guns.
My red dot blinked, and I leaned forward, watching as it steadily moved northward. Drive baby, drive. In the next twenty-four hours, I’d have the route of the truck that just left the Hernandez compound mapped out on my screen. Their cartel was small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but if the technology I’d developed worked, we’d be able to track any cartel shipment coming out of Mexico. All without them knowing.
Someone tapped me on the back of the shoulder, and I jumped about eight feet. “Holy balls!”
Ok, so the balls comment wasn’t very professional, but to be fair it wasn’t polite to sneak up on a girl and touch her without her permission. Slipping my headphones off, I held a hand against my chest, the fluttering of my heart as fast as a butterfly’s wings. Could a person in their twenties have a heart attack? If so, I hoped it wasn’t because they wanted me to take part in anot
When I swiveled around in my chair, Kam stood there looking a little sheepish as he pushed his glasses up. In my head, I started counting backward from a hundred. It was a coping mechanism I’d developed a long time ago to ward off a full-blown attack, which under the circumstances would be embarrassing.
“Sorry for startling you, but the boss said he wants to see you in his office.”
Figures his grouchy ass would want to see me right when I was in the middle of something groundbreaking. A chill went down my spine at the thought that my technology might revolutionize how we fought the war on drugs.
“Did he say what he wanted?”
His nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something bad and I discreetly tipped my head down and to the side, inhaling. Nope, definitely not me. I still smelled like my favorite rose body wash.
“No, but he’s in a foul mood.”
What else was new? Tossing my headphones on the keyboard, I locked my screen and stood. Unfortunately, the stupid wheel on my chair caught in my mat again, and I fell forward, my arms flailing. Kam reached out, catching me before I could face-plant.
My skin crawled where his hand rested on my forearm, and I hoped he didn’t hear my swift intake of breath. God, I hated being a freak. He was only making sure I didn’t get a concussion, which was the least he could do after scaring the shit out of me.
“Thanks,” I said, shaking the torn mat from where it clung to the heel of my Mary Jane’s.
“No problem.” His hands fell to his side, and he took a step back. “Good luck in there.”
Before I could embarrass myself any further, I walked away. People smiled as they passed me in the hallway, and I gave them a nod of acknowledgment, and kept on going.
While I secretly had a soft spot for Herb, mainly because every time his wife made chocolate chip cookies, he brought me some, I didn’t want to get cornered by the old curmudgeon. Our dumpy office chairs aggravated his sciatica, and my nerves couldn’t handle listening to him complain for ten minutes right now.
The wooden door to my boss’s office stood open, and I knocked, awkwardly standing in his doorway. This was like high school all over again, waiting outside the principal’s office for him to see you. Except this time, I knew I wasn’t being called in for something my sister had done.
“Come in,” he said, not looking up from the mound of papers on his desk.
He continued to ignore me as I sat down in one of the ugly beige chairs in front of his desk, and as the silence stretched, so did my nerves. My middle finger rhythmically rubbed over the top of the one beside it, the motion doing nothing to soothe me. Next, I fixated on the credenza behind the desk. Anything to keep from being stuck in my head, endlessly obsessing over why he’d called me into his office.
There were a few kid’s drawings that sat behind a “number one dad” coffee mug. In the family photo he had next to it he was smiling, which I honestly didn’t know was possible. Most of the time he stalked around the office with a scowl on his face, popping Tums as if they were candy.
His chair creaked, calling my attention back to him. He leaned back, his elbow on the arm, two fingers resting underneath his chin. Back and forth my finger moved, my palms warm against the leg of my black dress pants. If he didn’t start talking soon, I was going to sweat through this stupid suit jacket.
“You have a twin sister, correct?”
That was not what I expected him to say, and for a second, I sat there, dumbfounded. Why would he be asking about Cherry? It wasn’t like I ever talked about her, or my personal life, around the office. Not that playing video games or dressing up for Comicon was worth mentioning.
“Yes. What is this about?”
He sighed. “Either you’re the world’s best actress or you really don’t know.”
What could Cherry have gotten herself mixed up in? Admittedly, I hadn’t spoken to her much since I left for college. I’d been eager to leave the minefield of memories from our hometown in my rearview mirror, and unfortunately, my sister had been a huge part of those memories. But it wasn’t as if I’d taken off and left her unprotected.
Most would consider it stalkerish to give your sister a phone, and then use it to spy on her, but I had my reasons. Surely, between that and social media, I would know if something had changed. Her last post was of a waffle that resembled Elvis and her phone never left her apartment building yesterday. How much trouble could she possibly be in?
This had to be some sort of misunderstanding or maybe even a case of mistaken identity. The DEA would have no reason to be interested in my sweet, perky, outgoing sister. All I had to do was straighten it out for her and everything would go back to normal.
“Sir, if you’ll tell me what this is about, I’m sure I can straighten out whatever it is.”
“Doubtful,” he grunted, eyeing me over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses. “Your sister is involved with The Devil’s Deviants.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He could have told me Martians landed in my front yard, and I would have been less surprised. Maybe I was wrong, and I had been called in for something my sister did. No. This had to be some kind of twisted joke. No way would my sunshine and rainbows sister be involved with a biker gang. Hell, even her social media was filled with encouraging quotes and upbeat memes. In none of the pictures she’d posted, and she posted a lot, was she with men who wore leather vests.
“Congratulations. You’re being promoted to field agent. Bring down The Devil’s Deviants and we let your sister walk. No jail time, no criminal record.”
All thoughts about my moving dot and the breakthrough it signified fled. Shit! He was serious. Like prison time serious. There was nothing for me to fix and everything most definitely would not be fine. The closest I’d ever come to being a field agent was the time I controlled a surveillance drone from the laptop of a van.
“Sir, I’m not exactly field agent material. I sit in front of a computer all day. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to be a spy, or plant, or whatever you guys are calling it these days.”
His eyes hardened, a flicker of something that sent a chill up my spine was there one second and gone the next.
“I’m going to level with you here, Smith. Brass has had a hard-on for these guys for a long time, but we’ve never been able to get close enough to put them away. Now, thanks to you, we have a way to put one of our own on the inside.”
He reached for a file folder on the corner of his desk. “We’ve been trying to go after the president’s new bride, but her brother has the entire Mexican government in his back pocket, just like his old man. We’d been spinning our wheels trying to come up with another way in until we got a tip that their newly appointed vice president”—he shuffled around a few papers—“a Mikołaj Kowalczyk a.k.a. Hunter is involved with the Polish Mafia out of Chicago.”
Oh, hell. He wasn’t seriously suggesting I become involved with the Mafia. Was he? Because that was the type of assignment that got agents killed. Agents with undercover experience. Not computers geeks like me.
