The Devil I Betrayed: Savage Saints Mc

(Aria) Five years was a long time to stay away from a place I once called home. I had promised myself I would never return, especially while Dominic Voss was still breathing. Yet here I was, sitting in the back of a black Mercedes, watching the familiar streets pass through the tinted windows. Somewhere in this city, the man who wanted me dead was probably going about his business without knowing I had returned. "Are you sure about this, boss?" Vincent asked from the driver's seat. "We can still turn around." I looked at him through the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow. "You've asked me that three times since we left the airport, Vincent. Do you want to tell me something I don't know?" Vincent had worked for me for four years, and I trusted him more than most people. He was forty, built like a retired boxer, and had enough scars to prove he had survived some ugly situations. He knew about Dominic, although I had never told him everything that happened between us. Some memories belonged in the past, even when they refused to stay there. "Dominic Voss controls half the criminal activity in this city," Vincent reminded me. "And from what I've heard, he's become worse since taking over Savage Saints." I turned my attention toward the window again. The streets had changed, with new buildings replacing businesses I remembered from my twenties. But the city still had the same ugly secrets hiding behind expensive restaurants and polished storefronts. I knew because I had helped create some of those secrets. "Dominic doesn't control me," I replied. "He never did." That was a lie, and Vincent probably knew it. There had been a time when one phone call from Dominic could make me abandon whatever I was doing. I had loved him with a stupidity that still embarrassed me whenever I remembered it. Then everything went wrong, and love became the least important thing between us. My phone rang inside my purse. I checked the screen and saw a number I had been expecting since the plane landed. I answered without bothering to greet the caller. People who worked for me knew I wasn't interested in unnecessary pleasantries. "Everything is ready, Miss Bennett," the man said. "The club opens tomorrow, and the staff are waiting for your inspection." "Good," I replied. "Make sure the private office is secured before I arrive." The nightclub was called Obsidian, and I had purchased it six months ago through one of my companies. The previous owner had been desperate to sell after several unfortunate business decisions. I had offered him enough money to disappear without asking questions. He accepted, which proved he was smarter than I initially thought. Obsidian wasn't simply another investment. It would serve as the headquarters for my operations in the city, giving me access to people who preferred conducting business away from public attention. I had spent years building connections that reached far beyond nightclubs and private gambling rooms. Everything I owned had been purchased with money I earned through decisions most respectable people would condemn. "We're being followed," Vincent announced. I looked through the rear window and spotted two motorcycles several vehicles behind us. Both riders wore black helmets and leather vests, although the distance prevented me from seeing their patches. They weren't trying particularly hard to conceal themselves. That told me they wanted us to know they were there. "Keep driving," I instructed. "If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't be wasting time." Vincent checked his mirror again. His right hand moved toward the pistol secured beside his seat, but he left it alone. I appreciated that he understood the difference between being cautious and starting unnecessary trouble. Shooting two bikers in broad daylight would complicate my return considerably. The motorcycles followed us for another ten minutes. When Vincent turned onto the street leading toward Obsidian, one rider accelerated and pulled alongside the Mercedes. He glanced through my window before raising two fingers toward his helmet. Then both motorcycles disappeared down another street. I recognized the gesture immediately. It was something Savage Saints members used when acknowledging someone they intended to report to their president. Dominic had taught me that years ago, back when he trusted me enough to explain club business. Apparently, some things hadn't changed. He would know I was back before I reached my office. *** Obsidian looked better than the photographs. The building occupied a corner property with dark glass windows and a private parking area behind an iron gate. Inside, expensive furniture surrounded a large dance floor, while a staircase led to the private rooms upstairs. The bar stretched across one wall, stocked with bottles that cost more than some people's monthly rent. I had spent a considerable amount renovating the place, and I intended to recover every dollar. "Miss Bennett, welcome," a man greeted me near the entrance. "I'm Tristan Cole, the general manager." I shook his hand and studied him. He looked about thirty, dressed in an expensive suit with a nervous expression he was trying to hide. According to his employment records, he had managed three successful nightclubs before accepting my offer. I hoped his experience was worth the salary I was paying him. "Show me everything," I told him. "I want to know what my money bought." For the next hour, Tristan walked me through the building. He explained the security arrangements, introduced several employees, and showed me the private entrance reserved for important guests. I asked questions about staffing, deliveries, and the surveillance system. By the time we reached my office, I was satisfied with most of his work. Then I noticed the envelope sitting on my desk. It was black, with my name written across the front in silver ink. There was no stamp, no return address, and nothing indicating who had delivered it. I picked it up while Tristan stood beside the door. The paper felt expensive, which immediately made me suspicious. "Who brought this?" I asked. Tristan glanced at the envelope and swallowed. "A man came by about twenty minutes before you arrived. He said it was important." I opened it and removed a single sheet of paper. There were only seven words written across the center. I read them twice before placing the paper on my desk. Dominic had always preferred getting straight to the point. *You should have stayed gone, little traitor.* I stared at the handwriting, remembering how many times I had seen it before. Dominic used to leave notes around my apartment whenever he visited. Sometimes they were filthy promises about what he planned to do when he returned. Other times they were reminders to eat because I had a terrible habit of forgetting. "Is there a problem?" Tristan asked. I folded the letter and slipped it into my purse. There was no reason to frighten an employee over a personal matter. Besides, Dominic sending a warning was hardly surprising. I would have been disappointed if he had ignored my arrival completely. "No problem," I answered. "Tell security I want the camera footage from the front entrance." Tristan nodded and hurried away. I walked behind my desk and sat in the leather chair, considering my next move. Five years ago, I would have been terrified to receive a message like that from Dominic. Today, I found myself wondering how long he would wait before confronting me personally. My phone vibrated against the desk. The number was unfamiliar, but the message made its sender obvious. *Midnight. Savage Saints clubhouse. Come alone.* I read the message and smiled despite myself. Dominic still believed he could summon me whenever he pleased. He had apparently forgotten that I stopped following his orders a long time ago. I typed my response and sent it before I could reconsider. *If you want to see me, Havoc, come find me yourself.* I placed the phone down and leaned back in my chair. Somewhere across the city, Dominic Voss was reading my message. I knew exactly how much he hated being challenged, especially by me. And judging by the letter on my desk, our reunion was going to be anything but pleasant. **End of Chapter 1**