The Devil's Ride

She Kills Me

Rachel’s POV

Ace and Scar stood at the edge of the booth, towering over us and swallowing the space with the darkness that followed them everywhere. Scar kept his eyes locked on me, but his words were aimed at my mother. His voice was low and commanding, the kind that crawled across my skin.

“You and your f*****g daughter are to stay put until we’re back. If not, I’ll find you, Mo.”

“I give you my word, Scar. We’ll stay right here.” My mother said.

Scar shifted his attention back to me.

“Spitfire, don’t get yourself into trouble either. Your mom’s enough for both of you.”

“Oh, now I’m Spitfire?” I asked. “I thought you were calling me Little Bird. What made you change your mind?”

“Your f*****g bratty mouth and the goddamn attitude you have. It turns me on.”

“You’re a pig. A nasty pig.”

He lowered his voice, smoothing it out in a way that made it even more dangerous.

“What do you do for work, Spitfire?”

“I’m a bartender.”

He smirked. His eyes narrowed and his fingers brushed along his jaw as if he was already planning something. His stare burned into me.

“Perfect. I need you behind the bar at the front until I get back. Now that I threw Ella out, what do you say?”

I glanced at my mother. There was worry in her eyes, but all I felt was a swell of anger tightening in my chest.

“Do you have a damn answer or not?” Scar pushed. “I don’t have all f*****g night.”

“I’ll bartend. I could use the money.”

“Right answer. Follow me. You don’t want to get lost in here. Trust me.”

I nudged my mother so she could slide out of the booth, then stepped forward. Scar stood in front of me like a devil carved in the dark. When I reached him, he dipped his head. His breath brushed my neck as he whispered against my skin.

“Don’t even think about making a run for it, Spitfire. This place is f*****g heavily guarded.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Heat pooled low in my stomach, then lower, gathering between my legs. Desire and danger mixed until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Scar turned toward my mother.

“You stay the f**k here, Mo. You’re not even allowed to talk to Rachel while she’s working for me.”

Scar’s POV

Every time she opened her bratty mouth, I imagined her lips wrapped around my c**k and how it would feel to f**k her mouth until she cried for me. I could not get Rachel out of my head as Ace and I cut through the back roads toward her mother’s apartment to clean up the mess. I had no idea what I wanted from Moe. She did not have any money and she was too old for my taste. But this was my job. Usually, I sent someone else to clean up, but Paul was a special case. He was part of the club and so was his old man. If this got out, the cops would drag me into it fast.

I pushed my bike faster. The cold Boston air slid under my helmet and cooled the pounding behind my eyes. My migraine never let up anymore. As we crossed into enemy territory, I heard other bikes in the distance and a tight feeling crawled up my gut.

We parked in the back lot of the apartment building. We scanned the area fast, spotting a small group fighting near the dumpsters.

Ace looked over his shoulder.

“Yo, you sure about this?”

“Nah,” I said. “But it needs to be us. Otherwise Paul’s father will be out for blood.”

We kept our helmets on and our heads down as we walked into the apartment. The smell hit me first. Bleach and copper. I stepped inside the room and looked down at Paul’s body. Three bullet holes in his chest. His skin was already turning gray. My head throbbed so hard I thought my skull would crack open.

The bleach fumes rose into my nose and the room spun. My stomach twisted. I sat down fast before I passed out. Ace snapped his head toward me, eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

He was the only one who knew I was sick. I tried to keep it buried but the truth had a way of clawing up my throat.

“I feel sick, man. Keep cleaning. I’m gonna step onto the roof for some air.”

I got up and forced my legs to move. I climbed to the roof and pushed the door open. Cold air smacked into my face and I breathed it in hard. It helped. I took out a smoke, lit it, and leaned over the railing.

If word ever got out that I was sick, I knew what would happen. I would lose the club. I could not let that happen. My grandfather built the Iron Vipers when he was young. The club had been ours ever since. It got him killed and then it got my father killed too. Now it was coming for me, through my own body, through this slow poison eating me alive.

Whatever killed me, whether it was a bullet or this cancer burning in my blood, I knew one thing. I would die as a member of the club. If I had a wife or a kid, I could leave the legacy to them. But I did not have anyone. I would never have anyone.

I flicked the cigarette off the roof and watched the ember fall into the night. My thoughts drifted straight back to Rachel. Her mouth. Her voice. Her attitude. Her fire.

Then it hit me. A solid, clean, perfect idea. I finally knew what I wanted from Moe in return for my help.

I wanted her daughter.

I pictured that sweet little brat by my side. My girl. My problem. My future. My property. The thought punched straight through me and my c**k hardened fast. I had to adjust myself through my jeans as a slow grin curled onto my face.

Back inside, Ace had the place scrubbed clean. Paul’s body was already wrapped tight and ready to be taken out. I walked in and the bleach hit my nose again.

“We need a good way to get his body out of here,” I said.

Ace nodded.

“I’ll go back to the club and grab the car. You okay staying here until I’m back?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Go.”

He took off. The door shut behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet mess. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and wandered up the stairs. My head still pounded. My stomach still twisted. But curiosity tugged me harder.

I walked into one of the bedrooms and saw pictures on the wall right away. My little Spitfire. Rachel. Almost every photo had her and her dad in it. I stepped closer. Something about him hit me in the gut. He looked familiar. Too familiar.

I scanned the room, still trying to place his face. Then I saw a case file on the top shelf of the closet. Stuffed between blankets like someone hoped it would stay forgotten.

I grabbed it, sat on the bed, cracked the beer open, and flipped through the file.

And then I froze.

That was where I knew him from.

“Fuck.”

My voice echoed in the quiet room. The s**t I knew about Spitfire’s dad was a lie. The s**t in this case file could destroy everything. If it ever got out, it would tear the club apart. It would put targets on all our backs. It would put Rachel in the line of fire.

My jaw clenched.

This case would never see daylight again.

I kept flipping through the papers, and another folder slid out. Rachel’s arrest records.

A whole stack of them.

Apparently, she got into fights. Pulled guns on people. Threw punches. Never backed down. A bad b***h with a filthy mouth and a reckless little temper.

I smirked, dragging my thumb over her mugshot.

“Too bratty,” I muttered. “But f**k, you stay in my head.”

She wasn’t my type. Not really. Too wild. Too mouthy. Too untamed.

But I wanted her.

My body wanted her.

My mind wanted her.

And now I knew exactly what I would take as payment for helping her mother.

Her.

I stood up, walked toward the hamper, and froze when I saw something on the floor.

A red lace bra.

Delicate. Sexy as hell.

Definitely hers.

I picked it up slowly and felt the lace slide over my fingers. The fabric made my c**k hard right away. I clenched the bra tighter and rubbed it over the front of my jeans as hunger punched its way through me.

“Spitfire,” I whispered. “You’re f*****g killing me.”

I lifted it and brought it to my face. The scent of her hit me hard and I almost groaned. I rubbed the lace against my d**k through my pants again, letting the need take over for a second. Something about her stripped every bit of control I had left.

I shoved the bra into my pocket fast when I heard the apartment door open.

Ace called out, “Yo, I’m back!”

I walked out of the bedroom like nothing happened and met him in the living room.

“Let’s finish this s**t,” I said.