Lucifer’s Fury (A Motorcycle Club Romance)

Lucifer's Fury
(A Motorcycle Club Romance)

Jacee Macguire

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.

This work is intended only for adults over the age of 18. All sexual relationships depicted are between adults who are not related by blood.

Lucifer's Fury (A Motorcycle Club Romance) © June 2016, Jacee Macguire

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

Chapter 1: Blaze

The clubhouse is packed tonight as I make my way through the throng of brothers, old ladies and sweet butts. The music is loud, the bass pumping, drowning out the voices of those deep in conversation. The air is thick with a multitude of scents, a mix of weed, sweat, booze and sex. And it never gets old. It’s just another typical night here. Glancing around, I take in the smiles and laughter of my many brothers and keep on moving.

Six months ago, I would have been in the center of it all, a sweet butt on my lap, a cold beer in my hand, having the time of my life. Well… maybe not
the
time of my life, but definitely a good time. When in the company of my brothers, there’s always a good time to be had, but lately my mind and my heart have been tangled up in the past.

Instead of having a good time, I just want to be alone to think.

My mind is in chaos.

A few one-armed brotherly hugs and pats on the back and short conversations later, I disappear from the party into my office and breath a heavy sigh as the door snaps closed behind me. I feel like a giant pussy for letting my emotions take me on an uncontrollable rollercoaster ride, but I’ve been here before. This feeling is not new to me. The only real difference is the chance to make things right. All I can think about is what I should say when the time comes. What words would be best to plead my case?

Nothing I’ve come up with seems to be enough.

Figures.

Holed-up in my damned office, taking a stroll down memory lane, both loving and hating the trip equally as much. I should hop on my Harley and let the wind strip away all of this baggage. But even I know that shit doesn’t work. If it did, I would have been free of the torture long ago. Instead, I’m patiently waiting for that second chance – a chance that I hope like hell she feels I deserve.

My body is practically vibrating with the likes of a frustration I have only ever experienced one other time in my life. That particular time has haunted me for ten long years.

I don’t speak of it.

I don’t even utter her name in public.

The hurt is just too much to handle. And it never dulls. Hell, it only sharpens with each memory of our time together.

Even now, as I sit here staring at an old picture of Lola and I, I still feel overwhelming amounts of regret, hating how weak of a man I was that day. It was supposed to be a day that marked the beginning of a bright and happy future for us but…

Looking back, I should have stood up for what and who I wanted, regardless of the consequences.

Hindsight.

It’s a twisted evil bitch on the best of days, and that day was pure torturous hell.

I still feel the loss, just as one would feel the sting of a blade as it pierces your heart and rips away every bright and wonderful thing that made your life whole.

She was my fucking brightness.

My everything.

 Running my hand over my face, I let my booted feet drop with a thud from the edge of my desk to the floor just as a thunderous knock on my office door snapped me from thoughts of the one woman I should have never let slip from my grasp.

Rubbing the burning ache in my chest, I gave one final look at her. The beautiful raven-haired girl with ruby red lips and the softest smoothest skin I’ve ever had the pleasure of touching, staring back at me with so much love in her gorgeous blue eyes.

Christ! I screwed up so badly. Running my large fingers over her beautiful hopeful smile, I slid the old photo back into my desk drawer.

Out of sight out of mind. For now.

Back to work.

Work seemed to be the only thing that could keep my mind busy enough to forget her, at least for a short time here and there. She always seemed to find a way to blast into my thoughts like a bomb. I just hoped and prayed that one day really soon I could set the past right and hold Lola in my arms again.

Jesus I sound like a whipped dog.

To feel her warm lips press against mine again would be...

Hell, if I could have her in my life again I’d be a happy man.

I could breathe again without all of this pain.

“Enter!” I shouted as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Just knowing how close she has been was driving me bat-shit crazy. It has been a daily fight to keep from hopping on my Harley and going to her. And I’d probably do it, too, if Suicide would fucking let her location slip, but the bastard is holding her personal details close to the vest.

Fucking Suicide!

He’s a great guy and if it were not for him I would still be a hopeless shell of a man. Broken. Aimless.

I just want to lay my eyes on her. That would be a start. Simple enough. Maybe that would be enough to hold me for a little longer.

Who the hell was I kidding? It wouldn’t be enough.

It would never be enough.

The door opened. My old friend, and the warlord for Lucifer’s Fury, stepped in, his large bulky frame filling the entire entryway. He always has been a scary-looking guy. Brooding is what the ladies call it. Cold as ice is what I myself call it, and for good reason, too. There’s no better man to have watching your back. He is loyal to a fault and one of the most feared brothers in all of Lucifer’s Fury.  From the harsh icy look on Suicide’s face, I can tell that I really was not going to like what he had to say tonight.

I watched as he made his way across the room, quiet as a damn church mouse, that ever-present steel-hard expression etched across his features. He plopped down on the couch across from my desk, stretched out his long legs, and groaned.

For months now, he has been keeping track of my girl, Lola, and reporting back to me with updates. No matter what he shares with me, I always want more details. Sure, it’s a chicken-shit thing to do – have her followed around like a damn criminal – but I didn’t want to risk her taking off again.

I couldn’t risk that. It’d fucking kill me to lose her again.

Leaning back in my chair, I eyed him curiously, forcing back the flood of questions that were boiling inside me. After months of updates, he knew just how eager I was to learn more, always begging him to throw me a bone like a starving animal. Pathetic, I know. The other brothers would give me hell if they knew about all of this. I’d never hear the end of the jokes and shit, especially if they knew how torn up I was over a pussy I’ve never actually had.

Yeah, you heard me. I’ve never bedded Lola. God, how I wanted to, though. Jesus. Shaking away that image, I shifted in my seat and waited for Suicide to speak.

The clock on the wall ticked away like a damn bomb counting down to detonation. Was that what this was? This uncomfortable silence? No. It couldn’t be. So I waited and let the silence fill the space between us until he was ready.

Suicide ran his large hand over the back of his neck and sighed before his gaze slowly met mine. “Got an update on that
special
assignment. You want the good or the bad of it first?”

Christ, was it
that
bad? I hoped like hell it wasn’t. Mindlessly, my hand went back to my chest and rubbed harshly at the ache growing there just beneath the skin, forever untouchable. The ache was just too deep to reach and relieve.

“Let’s hear it. Good or bad doesn’t really matter,” I grumbled my voice tight and filled with agony. “I’ve waited over six months already for Lola to show her face around here and she hasn’t so much as ventured into our territory. I’m tired of waiting, brother. She has the right to know what really happened. It’s been ten fucking years since she disappeared.”

Reaching for the glass on my desk, I tossed back the remnants of bourbon, reveling in the fiery burn left behind as I swallowed. It took every bit of control I had to not throw the glass across the room. Clutching the glass in my fist until my knuckles turned white, I closed my eyes and took a few cleansing breaths and sat the glass down.

“Blaze, just give her some more time. What the hell would a few more weeks matter anyway? A month if need be? You will have your chance to explain things one way or another, brother. Just know this. If she isn’t ready to come here, then she won’t be ready to see you if you show up in her territory unannounced. Damn man, it will just piss her off. You damn sure don’t want that. Show her the respect that you yourself demand. If anyone deserves it, it’s Lola.”

As much as I hated it, Suicide was right. He could read me like a damn book, which is what a good warlord does. He sees the bigger picture, you know, and protects the club from all of the shit we don’t see coming. Most of the time, he knows what I need before I do, and he handles shit quietly.

Which is a damn good thing, especially when it comes to Lola. But I’m just sick and damn tired of waiting to see my girl.

Ten years is a long time to wait to set things straight. Too long, if I’m being honest.

It didn’t matter how many years had passed, though. I still loved her. The heart wants what it wants and Lola owns my heart. Hell, she always has and always will.

Time doesn’t change a thing like that.

My chest began aching the moment I found out she had taken off and it just never stopped. I searched for her. Finally, after several years of looking, I just gave up. Maybe my hope just faltered a little. Maybe I just needed to step back from it all.

I tried to live my life.

Tried to move forward, but she was never far from my mind or my heart.

She owned me.

When the day marking the tenth year since her disappearance came, I asked Suicide to help me search for her. He’d hesitated. At first.

Very few people in Lucifer’s Fury knew all the details about what happened but Suicide was there when shit hit the fan. He saw me hit rock bottom and damn near drown in bottle after bottle of booze. In the end, he agreed to help in the search, and given his resources, he was able to do what I never could.

He found my Lola. It took months but he found my girl.

The day he laid that bit of news on me, I was sure my heart stopped beating for a minute or two. It probably did too. I’d never been so stunned. To be honest, I almost fell to my knees and thanked a God I wasn’t sure existed until that moment.

Suicide sat me down and made me swear on my cut – the colors that had torn Lola and me apart, thanks to her fucking father – that I’d keep my distance. I’d agreed, with the understanding that he give me regular updates. And I’ve managed to keep my word. Just fucking barely. It was a daily battle.

He wouldn’t give me her exact location or contact information. In the beginning it really chapped my ass that he held that back. But I understood his reasoning behind it. He always had a reason for his actions. Most days, not having that information was all that was stopping me from breaking my promise. Right now my patience was beyond worn thin.

At this point, to be honest, it was ready to fucking snap.

“Tell me… how is she? Then get to the good and bad of it all.”

I hated the shakiness of my voice and how much I sounded like a teenager begging for information about a crush, but Lola had always been my weakness, a weakness I’d kept between me and Suicide for years now. Getting over a girl like her just didn’t happen. She was perfect, a sweet girl who was so beautiful it damn near hurt to look at her.

Suicide had been a prospect at the same time as me when everything went to hell in the time it takes a heart to beat. We’d been through some shit together, but that day even shocked the hell out of him. The things Lola’s father had planned for the club and his daughter were disgusting. It was all such a mess.

Leaving most likely was the best thing for her, given her father’s plans for her. Fuck! It was unthinkable and despicable. But before I could go to her to explain what I learned and what I was forced to do, she had disappeared into the night.

Gone.

Vanished without a trace.

No notes.

No phone calls.

Not a single soul received a goodbye.

Worst damn day of my entire fucking life. I know my heart stopped beating that day. It just shriveled up and died. Black like a piece of coal. But the moment Suicide told me that he found her, I felt it shudder in my dead chest and began a steady rhythmic beat again. It was the first time I truly felt like there was hope for us to be what we once were. For the first time in years, I could breath. Just knowing she was close gave me a sense of relief I hadn’t felt in almost a decade.