Breaking Beauty (Devils Aces MC): Vegas Titans Series (21 page)

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the burning midday light. Nearly
free, she thought vaguely. They were almost free. She waited for relief to
spread across her aching joints, but none came; instead, Romy just felt deeply,
deeply exhausted. She craved a cool, dark space.

“Oh ho ho!” Kellan cried out then, sounding inappropriately
pleased given their precarious circumstance. But looking down, Romy let herself
see what he saw: a motorcade of Devil's Aces, fanned out in front of the valet
stand. Between ten and fifteen men and women were straddling brightly colored
bikes, their unlit headlamps flashing in tandem with the sun's rays. Zaida
flinched at the sight. Bryson leapt down the foyer steps two at a time, until
he'd landed in front of an older couple, who seemed to be at the head of the
parade. They embraced him, clapped him freely on the back. They looked proud
as...

“My parents,” Kellan explained, from her shoulder. He seemed
to be keeping his own pale skin deliberately away from the sky's furious
spotlight. To Romy's surprise, he didn't rush off to join his family. He hadn't
even let loose her hand yet, and she was freshly aware of the tender pressure
in his palm.

“ROMY!” Bryson called then, smiling from his place amidst
the Aces. He looked happy now. Nearly as peaceful as she'd ever seen him,
locked in the embrace of his fellow riders. She recognized in all the gang her
lover's same tanned skin, his same strong, defined arms. These were people of
the road. This was the biker's life she'd only vaguely imagined, weeks before.
Could she ever, truly be a part of it?

Suddenly, from behind, Romy felt the whoosh of two
encircling arms. She instantly recoiled in fear, casting about for Zaida's furious
face. The woman had vanished, however. Her old supervisor was nowhere to be
seen.

“RO-MY!” cried a familiar voice. “Oh, Lord...I didn't mean
to scare you!”

And there she was: Paulette Nagle-used-to-be-Brownstein.
Romy felt she hadn't seen her old friend in weeks. She gazed, bemused, into
Paulette's friendly face and fought the urge to sob.

“Hi, Paulette,” Kellan said gently. “We were just leaving.”

“Weren't gonna go anywhere until I got a chance to say
goodbye,” the woman said. Romy briefly wondered how the pair of them knew one
another, but her mind was too frazzled to navigate the connection. Bryson had
begun to wave the remaining party down the steps, towards the caravan. She
could read anxiety in his face from here.

“And how was Howard?” Paulette asked Kellan, though her arms
were wrapped around Romy. She then indicated Brownstein, who was busy affixing
his duffle bags to an already-laden, mustard-colored Harley. He didn't look so
sallow now, flush against the other riders. He looked like a Devil's Ace.

“He was perfect, P. Just perfect.” Kellan said.

“Glad the ex is good for something.” Paulette winked up at
Romy.

“WE'VE GOT TO GO!” Bryson hollered from the road. He was
already astride his bike, sliding a key into the ignition. Was it Romy's imagination,
or could she hear sirens in the distance? And where had Zaida gone?

“Me and the boys'll take care of Goofy, as long as you need.
And I'm holding your papers for transfer, your school books...I'll be watching
your house. And if anyone comes a calling, I say you've been staying with me.
So don't worry. Don't worry about anything, honey.” Paulette reached up and
smeared an errant imprint of lipstick from the side of her friend's face.
“You're gonna be fine with this crew. I know 'em myself.”

Kellan pulled on her hand now, before racing down the casino
steps towards his own waiting bike. The distant sirens were definitely real
now, and they were approaching.

“Romy! Romy! One last thing!” The motorcade was beginning to
leave, bikers kicking away from the ground one by one. Bryson called her name
frantically, but Paulette continued to block her exit.

“You take good care of that boy, alright? Because he loves
you something
fierce.
” Her friend directed this last comment straight
into Romy's eyes. “He's a good one, okay? I thought you needed to know.” Then
she nodded her head one more time, indicating Kellan Vaughn's retreating back,
Kellan's flopping mane. His own blue bike was already equipped with a guitar
case, mounted high on the passenger seat. He was looking at Romy urgently now,
but his face was so intelligent, so sweet. She smiled back. Perhaps there was a
piece of her who was still capable of loving this boy, this sensitive soul
who'd known her well when she was young. But then, she was so much older now.
Romy shifted her gaze back to Bryson.

The Vegas sirens were upon them. Her lover's calls now
merged on a plea. Looking down at him, Romy was suddenly aware of a choice; in
a way, this was the first moment in weeks in which she'd been truly free to
choose her own destiny. She didn't have to make off with the Devil's Aces, to
whatever den they used to divvy up money. Couldn't she as easily change her
name, change her city, start afresh in some other master's program? She could
look out for herself, the way she'd always done so well. She could forsake this
mad life, these two competitive brothers and the persistent drama they were
bound to inspire. There'd be no more evidence of this dark blot in her work
history. She could go home.

But the man before her, in his motorcycle boots and leather
cut, sandy brown hair dappled blonde with light...she thought about their weeks
together. The sweet hours in her living room, all those confessions her body
had made to his. The feel of his encircling arms. The knowledge that he would
do anything in this world to protect her—even kill a man.

Fuck it,
Romy thought.

She raced down the steps, pausing only to fling her
preposterous high heels off her feet and into the thatch of garden bordering
the Windsor's valet stand. She jumped on behind Bryson Vaughn, noting the
approving gazes of his parents. There was only the Vaughn family left now; the
rest of the motorcade had burned rubber in the direction of the freeway. The
sun bore down on her shoulders like pressure. She hugged her lover's middle
tight, and let her head nestle into the crevice made between his muscular neck
and angular chin. She kissed the inky imprint of his neck tattoo, tasting blood
and sweat and something else spicy and strange. He reached around and squeezed
her knee.

“Welcome to the Devil's Aces, Adelaide. You're a bad girl
now, and there's no going back.” he called over the din of his revving engine.
Romy threw one last wave in Paulette's direction, but her friend had also fled.
Casino guards were beginning to clog up the lobby. Bryson kicked away from the
curb and Romy clung tight around his waist, the speed of his bike pressing into
the wind, the feel of the air on her face... felt for all the world like the
adventure was just beginning.

THE END

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Other Books in the
Vegas Titans Series:

Crushing
Beauty (Harbingers of Sorrow MC)
by Celia Loren

The following is an
excerpt from my next book in the Vegas Titans Series:

Wrecking Beauty
(Devil's Reapers MC)

Coming Soon!

Addison sat on a bench outside McCarran International
Airport. The air here in Vegas felt dryer than in Nashville. She stared
listlessly at the families waiting together in the taxi line. She’d been able
to catch a flight at the Nashville airport only forty-five minutes after she’d
arrived there, but then had a three hour layover in Atlanta. The flight
attendant had announced that it was 8:17AM when they landed.

A bright flash of light on the sidewalk caught her eye. It
was a rainbow created by the light refracting through her engagement ring. She
felt a surge of nausea. She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing it.
Taking it off, she was about to throw it into the street when she realized she
might need it. She didn’t have much money left. The last minute airplane fare
had been expensive, and now she only had a little over a hundred dollars in
cash left. She tucked the ring into an interior pocket of her tote.

A deep rumble sounded from the arriving cars. Addison, and
the all the other people waiting for ground transportation, looked up at the
noise. She felt a deep surge of relief wash through her body as she saw two
black motorcycles cutting through the cars. She jumped up and waved at them,
trying to attract their attention. She saw Salem on the back of one of the
bikes, looking around, then spotting Addison and waving back. She recognized
Kyle on the front of that bike, but didn’t know the man driving the other one.

They pulled up at the curb, and Salem pulled off her helmet,
jumped off the back of the bike, and enveloped Addison in a hug.

“Oh, honey, it’s going to be OK. We’re going to help you.”
Addison closed her eyes and sunk into Salem. She didn’t have any tears left.
Finally, Salem held extended her arms and held Addison out, examining her. She
let her fingers softly touch Addison neck, and Addison realized she must have
bruises forming there from Owen’s hands.

“Hey, Addison,” Kyle said over Salem’s shoulder. “Thanks for
dropping by.”

“Oh, jeez, Kyle.” Salem rolled her eyes. Addison smiled,
glad for a little bit of levity.

“Addison, this is Cutler Remes,” Kyle said, indicating the
guy that Addison didn’t know. Cutler swung a leg over his bike and took off his
helmet. Addison felt an instant attraction to him. He had dark and eyes, and a
smirk that told her he knew how hot he was. He looked her up and down, and
nodded. “He’s not a man of many words until you get a bottle of Jack in him, so
don’t expect much.”

“Got it,” said Addison.

“So we’re going to take you back to the Devil’s Reapers
clubhouse for a while, until we figure out what to do,” Salem told her.

“What’s the Devils Reapers?” Addison asked.

“Who.” Cutler said.

“Excuse me?”

“Who are the Devil’s Reapers.”

“Is this Jeopardy? What’s he talking about?”

Salem laughed. “Cutler, give her a break, OK? Sorry, he’s a
little protective. The Devil’s Reapers are the name of their motorcycle gang.”

“Gang?” Addison asked, frowning.

“Don’t worry, hon. We only get violent if we need to.”
Cutler interjected again. “We getting out of here, or what?”

“Wait,” Addison said, turning to Kyle. “When I mentioned
Marcus Devlin’s name on the phone last night, it seemed like you recognized it.
And not just because he’s rich. Tell me what’s going on.” Kyle and Salem
exchanged worried glances, then looked around to make sure no one was standing
too close to them. He leaned in to Addison.

“Marcus Devlin has ties to the Russian mob.”

“What? But the Devlins are a famous name, they’re society
people. They’re not mobsters.”

“They weren’t, until Marcus’s father made some bad business
decisions and almost ran the company into the ground. He started taking money
from some very bad people, and now every aspect of their business is tied to
the Russians.”

“Oh my god,” Addison whispered. “Do you think Owen could be
using those connections?”

“Rich people think the world belongs to them, in my experience.”
Cutler added. “Here.” He tossed Addison a helmet, and she caught it. “Hop on.”
Addison hesitated, and Salem and Kyle smiled at each other. “What, I’ve gotta
have a college degree to drive you around, princess?”

“No, just a bar of soap,” Addison replied, smiling sweetly.
Salem and Kyle laughed.

“Glad you haven’t lost your spirit, Addie!” Salem said,
patting her on the back. “And glad to have another girl to hang out with.”

“Aw, come on, Salem. I keep trying to braid your hair but
you never let me.” Kyle said with a straight face. Salem laughed as they
climbed back onto Kyle’s bike.

Addison slung her tote across her body and tightened the
strap so it wouldn’t move around. She shook her hair so it fell across her
back, and pushed the helmet down on her head, noticing Cutler watching her out
of the corner of her eye. She walked over to him and eyed his bike. She’d never
ridden on a motorcycle before, much less with a dangerous-looking biker on the
front of it.

“At least you travel light,” Cutler said.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Addison countered. She swung
her leg over the side of the bike, and gingerly placed her hands on the sides
of Cutler’s torso, feeling the smooth butter of his leather jacket.

“You’re gonna want to hold on a little tighter than that.”
Cutler told her. Addison slid her hands along his jacket, her hands slipping
under the leather onto his t-shirt covered body. She could feel his ripped abs
underneath her hands. She hoped that he couldn’t feel her heartbeat speed up as
her breasts pushed up against his back.