The Road Devils MC Series

Chapter 2

“What?” It seemed as though the devil didn’t have an unlimited number of lives after all, and even though she had no clue what had happened to that sick, twisted f**k, she was all ready to buy a drink for the person who blew him off the face of the earth. Two drinks if he or she dispatched Jensen with maximum pain and humiliation. “What happened?

“Ace Cuddy.”

Zoe blinked, trying to keep up. “Ace Cuddy? From – from The Fallen Angels, Ace Cuddy?”

“The one and only.”

“But… wait. The Fallen Angels are Jensen’s favorite boys. They get a huge number of his contract killings, and run the bulk of his drugs into Nevada. Don’t they?”

“They sure as s**t did, baby girl, you ain’t wrong about that. But Cuddy turned informant, and ratted out club business and Jensen’s activities.”

“What?” Zoe repeated. “Informant for who? The feds?”

“Kinda. For Matt Kingston and his people.”

“Holy Lord above.”

Wolf nodded. Matt ‘King’ Kingston wasn’t a scum-sucking pimp, murderer and drug-trafficker like Kirk Jensen had been, but his name evoked just as much awe, fear, and hushed reverence as Jensen’s had. King and his black-ops-type group, King’s Men, were mostly the good guys (and ladies), but not always. They were privately-owned and -operated, and they took cases and clients on an individual basis, so they weren’t overly concerned with anything but fulfilling their contractual obligations. King worked with the cops, but he didn’t hesitate to work with motorcycle clubs, ex-cons, and bounty hunters.

He also crossed lines, sometimes massively, sometimes beyond a point of no return. Using Ace Cuddy for information had been risky but above-board, but when Cuddy had gotten rumbled by his own club, King had protected him, though not well enough. Ace had been taken, badly hurt, sliced up, tortured. King’s Men had stormed the warehouse where he’d been held – and they’d taken down ninety percent of The Fallen Angels. They’d also killed most of Kirk Jensen’s lieutenants and upper people, leaving the organization crippled, vulnerable, hurting.

Wolf had been in that warehouse, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with King and his people, armed and dangerous. He’d killed some men that night, and he’d done it without a qualm. And he hadn’t been alone: Scars Innis, his Vice-President, had been there too. He wasn’t about to tell Zoe this part, though… The Fallen Angels and Kirk Jensen were done and dusted, and no sense dredging up the past.

Besides, that bloodbath at the warehouse to rescue Ace Cuddy was the first time in a year that The Road Devils had done anything illegal, violent, or questionable. And if Wolf had any say, it was going to be the last time for a long, long time. Hopefully forever.

“So – what?” Zoe said now. “Ace killed Jensen, and he ran?”

“Yeah. Cuddy’s long gone. Nobody knows where he is, except maybe King, and the man ain’t talkin’.”

“Is there trouble between you and the new club?” she asked him. “Between you and Dawson? Sounds like tensions are running high all over the damn place.”

“Nah, no trouble. Bad blood, for sure, but they leave us alone.” He sighed. “They’re busy takin’ advantage of the vacuum left by Jensen kickin’ the bucket and the Angels implodin’, you know, so they’re settin’ up new contracts and expandin’. They ain’t got time to come around here and cause shit.”

“You got Dawson’s word on that?”

“Yeah. He sent a message through Ice. He ain’t interested in any back-and-forth with attacks, and payback and more payback. He wants to focus on buildin’ up the business and growin’ the club.”

“So this guy Ice is with them now? He left you to join Dawson?”

“No way. Dawson asked him to go, but Ice told him to f**k right off. He’s loyal.”

“So your major problem at the moment is – what?”

“Lack of warm bodies,” Wolf said, waving his hands around the tattoo studio. “The guy that I had runnin’ this place did go off with Dawson, and now I’m stuck with no experienced manager that I can trust fully. That’s where you come in.”

Zoe leaned back, and surveyed her oldest and dearest friend. Yeah, here it was: the reason that she’d hauled ass across three states in her beaten-up Volkswagen that was practically being held together with packing tape. Wolf had a job for her, and even though the money was right, nothing else was.

“So.” Zoe looked around, noted the clean and professional surroundings. “I’d be an employee of Blue Dragon Ink?”

“Yeah.”

“And the tattoo parlour is one-hundred-percent owned by The Road Devils?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, in effect, I’d be working for the MC. For you.”

“Right.”

“I’d be back into it. The life.”

He paused. “Yeah. In some ways.”

She fell silent again and this time, Wolf let the silence go on. He knew she was fighting every instinct in her body to put as many miles of highway between The Road Devils and herself as humanly possible, and Wolf didn’t blame her. She’d barely gotten away from the club in one piece six years earlier, so he understood that she wasn’t in a big old rush to hand her whole life back to them, even if Wolf was in charge. He’d have to win her trust, however the hell she needed him to do that.

Her stunning eyes were narrowed at him. “Convince me that you and your boys are on the up-and-up now. That the club isn’t the same as I remember it. That you’ve turned your backs on the one-percenter lifestyle for real and for good.”

Wolf nodded. “How?”

“You earning money on your three businesses only, and you got the accounting to back the numbers up? You paying taxes? You got employee contracts for here and the bar and the garage? You got papers proving that you own this property? You got suppliers that aren’t being threatened, and are being paid on time?”

“Yes to all of it.”

“Show me.” Her blonde hair fell forward over her shoulders again, warm and loose. “Show me all you’ve got to prove to me that you’re legit and legal.”

“You want to call the suppliers personally?”

“Yeah. And show me their invoices, proof of payment, agreements.”

“You got it. What else?”

“Wolf…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d be safe? We both would?”

She asked these last two questions in a hushed, hesitant voice that was so unlike her usual ballsy confidence, it almost killed him. Wolf knew that for all her blustering about taxes and invoices, this was the real issue. He’d never forget finding Zoe tied up in that bar back room, naked and bleeding and surrounded by almost a dozen of his own brothers, who all had their d***s out, just waiting for their turn. Wolf had barely gotten her out and away; thank Christ he’d been in time.

Just in time.