A Deal With the Reaper: A Dark MC and Serial Killer Romance (The Saints of Purgatory Book 1), page 2
“I can handle her,” I say, a bite to the words.
James holds his palms out in surrender. “Sorry. Just consider it. Let me know if you need a wingman.” Then he turns and walks away, probably to pull Raph and Luna apart before one of them does lasting damage. With how often they fight, you’d never guess that they’re best friends.
I tap the bar, silently requesting another beer from Axel. He slides me one, and I chug half of it in one gulp, my head pulsing with pain and unwelcome thoughts of Amber.
“I fucking hate it when he’s right,” I mutter. I don’t even like her that much. She’s just young, hot, and skilled at getting me off. She shouldn’t be invading my head like this.
She’s becoming a distraction, and not the good kind.
It’s time to get rid of her.
~
A month later, I lead the Saints out on a job to steal several cars to sell to Basil. It helps calm everyone, quenching their thirst for action. Two weeks pass without much issue, though Daryus, our sergeant at arms, did briefly get arrested for beating someone up at the Iron Cage. The guy deserved it. If I’d seen him slip drugs in anyone’s drink, especially Bella’s, I would’ve killed him. Thankfully, Daryus only spent one night in jail. The guy never pressed charges, thanks to our cameras catching him in the act of trying to roofie Bella, and we have friends in the police department.
So, all has been quiet with the Saints. Though a certain blonde bitch has proven more difficult to dump than I expected.
I’m changing my bike’s spark plugs, contemplating permanent solutions to erasing her from my life, when Kip, our head road captain, walks in. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall a foot away.
“What do you want, Kip?”
“Luna passed along a meeting request from a possible client, if you’re interested.”
“Chop job?”
He shakes his head. “Solo kind.”
I nod, a hint of excitement in my chest. I enjoy these jobs more than the chop ones that involve the entire club. The solo jobs only ever involve me, James, Luna, and occasionally Kip. They’re not secret, but we don’t talk about them openly due to their sensitive nature. It’s best when as few people as possible know about each one.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“His name is Henry. He’s the dad of a friend of one of Luna’s thousand siblings,” Kip explains. He gives me a rundown of the job, though without many details.
“Should we be worried about his connection to Luna’s dad?” I ask. Her father, Judge Hugh Mcintyre, is infamous for his merciless rulings, and he got worse when Luna joined a criminal motorcycle club.
Kip shakes his head. “He seems legit, but I’m having Benny and Zion tail him for a few days just in case.”
“Good idea.” I’m always happy for business, but our services are becoming slightly too well-known. These kinds of things are better left hidden in the shadows. Still, I could use a distraction, so I tell Kip to set up a meeting.
~
“Ready to go, T?” James asks, pressing a bag of frozen peas to his jaw, where his opponent got in a decent hit. The underground fights have garnered more attention recently, and the bigger crowds mean more difficult opponents but also heftier paydays. He still demolished yesterday’s fight and remains undefeated, though that’s only because I’ve never entered the ring with him. Thankfully, his bruise isn’t horrible, or it’d draw too much attention.
“Yeah, let’s hit the road.”
We’re meeting Henry at one of James’s favorite cafes uptown, somewhere well-lit and crowded. New clients always want to meet in public places. They feel safer, even though it increases the risk of being overheard.
Henry is automatically identifiable by his constant nervous glances, like he’s waiting for a killer clown to jump out at any minute and slice off his ears.
I join him at the table while James waits to order our coffee, then immediately wish we’d switched roles when one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen walks in and stands behind him in line. Her ass is sinful in her jeans, and her long blonde hair is begging to be grabbed.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I rip my gaze away from her and look back to Henry.
“As I was saying, it’s best that we have another meeting somewhere more private to discuss details before James and I plan how to complete the job.”
“Complete the job… You don’t mean…” Henry looks around, then pulls a finger across his throat. I barely hold in a groan.
“No, we don’t do that.” Usually, I mentally add. “Each job is different. It depends on the client’s needs. You tell us the problem you need efficiently and quietly taken care of, like to get rid of evidence, destroy blackmail materials, or make someone disappear, and it’ll get done.”
“How do you make someone disappear?” he asks, voice so quiet I almost don’t hear him.
“By getting creative. Typically, by manipulating circumstances until they’re forced to move away or ensuring they’re arrested and sentenced for a crime.”
“I think that second option will work for my… problem.”
“And what is your problem?”
“Luna didn’t tell you?”
“She just told us that your son has gotten mixed up with some bad guys.”
James comes to the table to wait until our drinks are called and adds, “Bad guys with endless resources.” He’s the more reliable researcher between the two of us, so he’s the reason we know that Henry’s son goes to college with Luna’s youngest brothers, the twins, and lives in a similar tax bracket. “It’s a group of trust fund kids who get thrills out of pushing limits, both their own and other people’s, right?”
Henry nods. “I’ll admit that we didn’t do the best in raising Cameron to be down-to-earth. We wanted to give him opportunities we never had. But we definitely didn’t raise him to treat others like playthings. Or to gamble with his own life so carelessly. He was arrested for drunk driving last month, and that’s not the worst thing those boys get up to. Their leader is the son of some real estate mogul, and he has an affinity for convincing the others to risk their lives for his own enjoyment. Cameron and his buddy came home with several bad burns once. They refused to tell me what happened, but there was a story on the news about a resort burning down. It was the off-season, so no one was inside, but the authorities labeled it arson. Cameron’s friend’s dad owned the resort.”
I tap the table, nodding solemnly. Sounds like a classic rich boy tantrum. When silver-spoon kids throw fits, millions of dollars and the lives of poorer people are almost always at stake.
“No one questioned Cameron or his friend?” I ask.
“I suspect the friend’s dad smoothed it over,” Henry says.
The barista calls James’s name just as he’s asking a question of his own, so I get up to retrieve the drinks. When I turn, holding a cup in each hand, I notice the sexy blonde sitting at a high bar that serves as a communal table. Her eyes are on a book in front of her, and she’s slowly stirring her coffee.
“T,” James says, snapping me back to attention. I set his tea latte in front of him and sip my cold brew.
“I’m assuming it’s the leader you want handled?” I ask.
Henry looks around again. His paranoia at being overheard is the most conspicuous thing about this meeting. “Yes,” he whispers.
“It’s extra for well-known and well-connected people. It takes more to make something stick when the target can buy their way out of most corners.”
“Whatever, I’ll pay it,” Henry readily agrees. “I just need to get my boy away from them before he dies.”
Though James and I agree to take the job, I can’t help but think this won’t be the end of it for Henry’s son.
Removing one bad influence won’t save someone determined to ruin their life.
Chapter Three
June
Once I find Theo, it’s easy to keep him in my sights. He doesn’t do much beyond hanging out at the bar he owns, the Iron Cage, or the clubhouse two blocks away, working in his garage, riding with the Saints of Purgatory, and visiting the gym with his right hand, James Hartley. Amber is almost always there, dangling on his arm and staring at him like she’s waiting for him to snap.
My decision to kill Theo solidifies the second week of following him. I’m sitting in my car, parked in front of the Iron Cage with the seat reclined and windows down. The bar’s door swings open, releasing the sound of music with a loud bass, and Theo and Amber pour out. I’m close enough to see their mouths moving, but I can’t hear individual words, even when the door clicks shut, muffling the music again. She’s crying and reaching for him, swaying like she’s drunk. He grips her wrists, yanks her forward so their chests are pressed together, and snarls in her face. Her shoulders pull in as she attempts to make herself smaller.
Her shout of pain is perfectly audible when he shoves her. She stumbles, throws her arms out, and barely catches herself on the wall.
“Pull yourself together,” he yells. Then he rubs his head, turns, and stalks away.
I watch him climb on his bike and ride off, all while Amber cowers against the wall, holding herself with too-thin arms. I’m about to leave when another man, also wearing a Saints of Purgatory jacket, walks out, sees Amber, and shakes his head. At his appearance, she runs over and throws her arms around him, sobbing into his neck. The guy hugs her close, but it doesn’t take long for his hands to reach her ass. I stay long enough to watch his piss-poor comforting turn into a sloppy drunken make-out session.
During Jennifer’s next appointment, she tells me that Amber and Theo are in a fight, but Amber is too afraid to break up with him. Then, that night, Theo rides to his house, Amber on the back of his bike. When he pulls her off, her legs cinch around his waist, and she tugs off his helmet to kiss him while he carries her inside. I leave, knowing I won’t be seeing either one of them again soon.
The next time I see Amber, I wish I hadn’t left. Because she has two black eyes and a split lip.
After that, her presence is less consistent, and when I do see her with Theo, she’s more subdued, less overtly trying to get his attention. She drinks more, though, if her stumbling is any indicator. She also seems thinner every day, and the dark circles under her eyes never fade.
Nearly a month into tailing Theo, I watch him and the rest of the gang steal four luxury sedans during a convention downtown. They then sell them to a guy named Basil, who lives a life of extravagance that’s probably paid for by this agreement he has with a group of outlaw thug bikers. Theo and the Saints bring him nice cars to massacre and sell in pieces to the highest bidder.
For some reason, I’m disappointed. Like I expected more from the leader of the roughest biker gang in Tucson.
I shouldn’t have. No man who pushes around his girl is truly impressive. They’re always sniveling boys afraid of their own shadows. Everything else is an act.
Theo Zervas is no different.
~
Thanksgiving comes and goes. Sadie returns home to LA for the holiday, and Evelyn, Rose, her sister, Maple, and I spend the day together, all without decent families to celebrate with. By December, the flames inside start to tickle my ribs. It hasn’t even been three months, so I double my visits to the kickboxing gym and gun range, two of the most reliable ways of releasing pent-up energy and blowing temporary cold winds through my body.
On Saturday, I don my black, torn jeans, a too-small tank top I stole from Rose, and black combat boots. The tattoo nearly covering my left arm sells the image of a girl who belongs in a biker bar. It's a cemetery with fourteen small tombstones, all but one engulfed in flames. I had the most recent headstone added over five weeks ago.
I arrange my dirty blonde waves in a messy bun that looks effortless but requires nearly half a can of hairspray and apply smokey eyeshadow and fake eyelashes. It’s nine-thirty by the time I leave my house and head to the Iron Cage, which is already crowded when I arrive, just as planned. I don’t want to stick out any more than I have to. The bouncer, a man so big he could easily crush me between his fingers, gives me a short nod, waving me in.
Not a threat, he’s probably thinking.
I’m never a threat.
My ears throb with the onslaught of hard rock spilling from the speakers, and my nose wrinkles at the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat. The place is filled with Saints and wannabe lookalikes. Ignoring the instincts that tell me to pull free the knife I have strapped to my thigh, I make a beeline for the bar and sit next to a man wearing the Saints of Purgatory cut. He has dark skin and braided black hair, and I subconsciously flip through the files I’ve started for the core members. I’m confident this is Raphael, the club’s tail gunner and close friend of Luna Mcintyre, the club’s treasurer and the only girl with a named rank.
At my appearance, Raphael turns, surreptitiously checking the space around me, making sure I’m alone. He then gives me a wide smile, showing off crooked teeth that are oddly endearing.
“What is a stunning young creature like yourself doing in a place like this all alone?”
Could he be more cliche?
“Who says I’m alone?” I respond, though I follow the words with a half-smile.
“Your boyfriend hiding in the shadows?”
“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Right after answering, I look away, radiating uncertainty with a hint of insecurity.
“How about I buy you a drink? You really shouldn’t hang out alone in a dump like this.”
Dump? He practically lives here.
“Uhm…” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
“No strings attached, promise!”
I hesitate for a moment, just long enough to keep him hooked, then agree. He instantly turns to the bartender and says to make me whatever I want.
“What’s good here?” I ask. Please don’t say beer, I think. I’ve never developed a taste for the stuff.
“The IPA on tap is delicious.”
Of fucking course it is. “Okay, I’ll try that.” The bartender pulls the tap to fill a glass, then slides it to me. I thank him and turn back to Raphael. “I’m Maryanne.”
“Raphael,” he says, offering his hand. I take it, shaking once, then reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
From there, it’s easy. I talk with Raphael and choke down the beer. Then I let him pull me into the center of the bar where he grinds against me with the beat of the music. In any other situation, I’d appreciate his sense of rhythm. Now, though, all I can think is, where the hell is Theo?
I wasn’t planning to talk to him today, but I wanted to get close. This is the first contact I’m making with the people in his world. I would’ve preferred if he were here so he could at least see me on the sidelines as a random girl, but not a threat. Any sense of familiarity with me, even foggy, will help lower his guard on the final day.
But I spend two hours with Raphael and never see Theo or Amber. There are several Saints among the crowd, and James is obvious when he walks through the bar, thanks to his thick red beard, matching red hair, and towering height, but no other major players show up. Finally, I announce I’m leaving, shut down Raphael’s invitations back to his place, and agree to give him my number, which is for the burner I bought with cash. Then I leave, desperate to get home and wash off the night.
Raphael calls the next day but I ignore it, not wanting to be too important in his life or memorable to the rest of the gang. He calls and texts several more times, his last message including a few choice words about me being a tease.
I wait for two weeks before returning to the Iron Cage on a Thursday when I know Raphael won’t be there because he’ll have his son for a visit. I dance with Luna, a short girl with tattoos climbing up her neck and dark, cropped hair. I have my arms wrapped around her neck, our hips pressed together, when Theo makes his first appearance.
He’s standing at the back of the bar, gaze sweeping the whole room. I quickly look away before he catches me staring. The next time I look up, he’s gone.
I dance with Luna for longer than I probably should, but she’s genuinely fun, and for a blink, there are no thoughts in my mind but the music, the smoke in the air, and the feel of fingers against my exposed skin on my back.
Then she starts to press her lips to my neck, and I take the first opportunity to slip away before I leave a lasting impression.
I manage one more trip to the Iron Cage, and though there is no Amber or Theo, I do hear an interesting conversation from two guys standing off to the side.
“That little bitch needs to go. For good.”
“Valor, seriously, dude! You need to keep your mouth shut.”
“You can’t like her any more than I do.”
“I don’t, but I trust the boss. He’ll take care of her.”
Unfortunately, I don’t hear anything else, and I pause hunting to attempt enjoying the holidays.
When the fire starts licking my brain, I visit my tattoo artist to add flames to the most recent gravestone on my sleeve. Then, the second weekend of January, Jennifer calls my personal phone.
“Ms. Graves,” she says, voice thick with tears.
“Jennifer, is everything okay?”
“No, no. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t heard from her in three days!”
I swallow a reply that it’s normal to go several days without talking to someone. Especially when you’re in a situation like Amber. Instead, I respond, “Tell me what happened.”
“She sent me this cryptic text a few days ago saying she was going to be out of touch for a while. But I know it’s not from her. I can tell. I mean, the texts look like she wrote them, but it’s not her. I swear.”
“I believe you, Jennifer. You have a mother’s intuition. That means something.”
