Lucifer’s Fury (A Motorcycle Club Romance) (2 page)

It felt good. So damn good.

“She’s doing all right. Looks great, too. Real good, brother. She’s going by Pandora now, as I told you before, and running her own MC up in Gun Barrel. Her crew is smoking hot, brother. Christ. I don’t know how she managed to pull together so many badass ladies,” he said in a throaty tone followed by a deep vibrating chuckle and a shake of his head.

I got his message loud and clear. The ladies were something else. Maybe he had his eyes set on one or two of them. It wouldn’t surprise me at all. He never cared much for the sweetbutts. Always said that a real woman had more respect for herself than that. That was one thing we both agreed on but they served a purpose.

“From what I could dig up on them from my contacts,” he continued, “every damn one of those ladies has a military background. They spar with each other in front of the clubhouse, and just… wow, brother. It’s enough to make a grown man’s dick stand at full attention. They’re all hardcore riders too. Nice rides all around.” His eyes drilled into me. “That’s the good of it.”

Leaning forward in my seat, I realized immediately that this was by far the most details he’d ever given in one sitting, and he still wasn’t quite done yet. My heart was tripping in my chest. Was he finally going to tell me more? I hoped so.

“I always knew her old man was a dipshit for never patching her into the club,” I said. “That old excuse of no pussy being patched was stupid. Pandora? That’s one hell of a name. I like it but it sure as hell doesn’t fit the sweet angel of a girl from ten years ago.”

Suicide shifted in his seat, the leather couch cracking and groaning under his immense weight. He chuckled. “It fits her now, brother. Shit, she’s a hardcore biker chick now. So yeah, brother, the name more than fits. Pandora is like you… but with a nice rack and a little pink between her thighs.”

I stiffened in my chair, my back going ramrod-straight, my face contorting into fury.

He noticed the change and raised a hand. The fury and rage inside me was no doubt flowing off me in choking waves. “No disrespect meant by that, Jasper. Calm yourself, brother. You ready for the bad?” He hesitated for a moment, waiting for a response from me. All I could do was nod an affirmative.

“Word on the street is her crew, the Gypsy Riders, are pulling jobs left and right, they’re killing the human trafficking ring the Twisted Bastards have going. Girls have been going missing all around the area and the Gypsies have been rescuing the women before the Twisted Bastards can ship them out. Pandora has stopped at least a dozen shipments already. These gals are good... real good. It’s mighty damn impressive. You and I both know how dirty those guys are. Vicious, too.  Pandora’s getting in deep and pissing off the higher-ups. The Twisted are losing major cash flow because of your girl, and soon they will retaliate and it won’t be good. She’s getting in too deep for her small crew.”

Shaking my head in disbelief was all I could manage. Jesus Christ. Either Pandora had balls of steel or she was flat-out crazy as all hell. Most of the clubs that went up against the Twisted Bastards in the past felt the after effects. Blood was spilled, men were lost, and the need to always look over your shoulder grew astronomically.

I wanted Lola – or Pandora, whatever – back in my life.

Protected.

Safe.

Mine.

“What in the fuck is she thinking?” I growled out. “Good God. The Twisted are a depraved and dangerous bunch. Even we avoid them as much as we can. They’re always out to spill blood and kill without a second, or even a first, thought.”

Suicide didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He’d seen first-hand what they were all capable of. We’d buried plenty of our own because of the Bastards. Of course, Lucifer’s Fury was just as dangerous, but the difference was we didn’t kill innocents. They did. That didn’t mean we were a flock of angels with sparkling halos, though. When we went against the Twisted Bastards we lost a handful of our brothers. The pain of that loss was still lingering upon us. We felt it every time we straddled our bikes.

The worry in Suicide’s eyes said so much.

Damn. These women were out of their minds.

“Should we offer up our help or wait and see how it all plays out?” I asked.

The thought of Lola having run-ins with the Twisted Bastards had my heart thumping maniacally in my chest. Those guys were dangerous. They had zero respect for woman and it showed in their choice of business ventures. Flesh trades were despicable.

Pure evil in every fucking way.

Lucifer’s Fury avoided dealing with them after the last run-in unless it was a last resort, and most of the other clubs followed suit. Some might call us pussies for making a call like that. We weren’t. We were just being smart. A time would come when Lucifer’s Fury rid the world of their stink. They called themselves brothers but they’d kill each other just as quickly as they would kill anyone else. It was obvious they didn’t have a clue what brotherhood meant. Not really a surprise considering.

Part of me wanted desperately to go to Lola and save her ass from whatever she was involved in but I didn’t do that. I couldn’t do that. I knew damn well she would be pissed off if I interfered. That’s just the kind of girl she was, and that obviously hadn’t changed one bit in all these years.

Suicide shifted forward, pushing his enormous frame up from the couch, and leaned his meaty fists on my desk. “Her MC has managed to save the lives of a lot of women and children from a miserable lifetime working as sex slaves or worse. She’s doing good things, brother. Her crew isn’t involved in anything shady like guns and drugs. They’re squeaky-clean man. Just give her more time, brother. My advice on the matter is this – we wait and see how she handles things. She’s fucking smart. I’ve seen them in action. Military precision at its best brother. But I’ll continue to keep watch, and if I feel we should step in, I’ll reach out to her. You okay with that?” A solitary brow arched high on his forehead.

“Hell yes I’m okay with that. Keep your eyes on her, and I want more frequent updates on this shitty situation with the Twisted Bastards. If Lucifer’s Fury needs to step in, I want to make sure we’re prepared.”

“Sure thing. I’m heading out. Got me a hot little lady out front waiting for me.” He raised a clenched fist. “Later, brother.”

I met his with my own. “Later.”

Chapter 2: Pandora

I could feel the steady vibration of the rock music blaring from the common area of our small clubhouse – the hoots and hollers of the girls as they partied hard – as I lay in my bed, trying to prepare myself for the coming mission. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t manage to relax. My shoulders were rigid as steel beams. Hell, I could barely catch my breath. My stomach was an angry mass of tense knots. I had no idea why, but it damn sure wasn’t a good thing. It never was.

I’ve felt this way a few times in my life and not a single one of them was a joyous moment worth remembering. But the memories were there regardless, always beating the shit out of me, weakening me, reminding me of a past I want so much to forget. That alone made me worry about all of the bad shit that could happen tonight. Danger always lurked in the darkness. Sometimes it held you tight, let you believe everything would be all right, and then stab you in the back.

“Expect the unexpected and all that horse shit.” I mumbled to myself.

If my father taught me anything, it was that little piece of wisdom. It was the only thing I ever learned from the man.

The first time I felt this unnerved was when I practically begged my father, Lucifer, the founder and President of the Lucifer’s Fury MC, to let me become a prospect. Of course he had laughed in my face and said no pussy would ever patch into his club as long as he drew breath. Just thinking about it pissed me off.

The second time was the day I was to marry the love of my life... my soulmate, Jasper Stone. Jasper and I had dated for a year in secret before deciding to elope. That was the best year of my life until it wasn’t. I was stupid and thought our love for one another would survive anything. Boy, had I been wrong. So damn wrong. I still don’t know what the hell happened. And it didn’t matter now. We knew my father wouldn’t have approved anyway, but I guess he didn’t have to worry about that because Jasper left me standing on the courthouse steps.

Alone and broken into a million tiny pieces.

Fractured.

I was mortified and humiliated.

I sat on those damn concrete steps, arms wrapped around my middle, crying like a damned baby until the sun faded away. First, I felt the pain, but when it subsided, I’d wiped my eyes and gotten angry.

The thought of facing everyone just rocked me to my core. I didn’t want anyone to know he’d left me like that. Didn’t want anyone to see me weak. And I couldn’t face
him
. So I did the only thing an eighteen-year old girl that was the new owner of a broken and well-shattered heart could do. I packed my things and skipped town.

After six months on my own, waiting tables in a filthy roadside diner in a blink-and-you miss-it town, living off Ramen noodles and Bologna sandwiches, and barely scraping by, I signed up for a stint in the Marines. I never looked back. I saw the world, made friends, and grew into the woman I am today.

Being a part of something bigger than myself and Lucifer’s Fury made me stronger. More resilient. Strong. Independent. A fighter through and through. The only thing that never disappeared was the memory of Jasper. We could have been great together. We could have had something amazing together. But that was in the past now.

I hated and loved the moments I let thoughts of Jasper gather in my mind. They usually were followed by how much I wanted to be a part of Lucifer’s Fury. Those thoughts never led anywhere good, though. 

But now things were different.
Weren’t they?

My life was rolling right along. When my time as a Marine ended, I found myself engulfed with that familiar need to be a part of something bigger again. I almost – in a moment of stupidity or weakness, I’m not sure which – returned home to Lucifer’s Fury. Before I had a chance to head home, another opportunity appeared and everything changed again.

A chance meeting in a biker bar and that was all she wrote.

Me and a fellow Marine, Holly, now known as Cherry Pie, started the Gypsy Riders MC that weekend. It was rough going in the beginning, but within six months, Cherry Pie and I had a dozen ex-military gals, a nice little clubhouse an hour from my hometown, and a mission to keep us going.

That was all we needed.

Our clubhouse wasn’t much but we renovated the hell out of it and set up shop. Everything just fell into place and then we overheard a few old ladies with the Reapers MC chattering away about missing girls all over the area. I’m not going to lie. I saw red. Cherry Pie had stiffened in her seat beside me.

Words didn’t need to be spoken between us. Just like that, our club had a purpose. We chatted up the old ladies, sucking up every tidbit of information we could. Went home thirsty to get the girls onboard. A few days later, we had a descent plan to stop the Twisted Bastards from ruining the lives of woman in our area.

And we did... for a time.

Then we’d get word they were at it again. And it started all over again. Same song, different damn verse. They kidnap, we rescue. Over and over again like a broken record, and then they went silent. And we waited... until tonight.

I rolled over onto my side, stretched my long arm out, and flicked on my lamp. Rubbing my aching eyes, I pushed myself up on the bed into a sitting position with a heavy sigh. It was time to get up and get my ass in gear.

Pushing off the bed, I slipped on a pair of black cargo pants and matching shirt before grabbing my combat boots and lacing them up nice and tight. Standing up, I stretched my arms above my head like a cat and headed for the closet, grabbing the last – and most important – item of all... my cut. I ran my fingers over the President patch and my road name, Pandora.

With great ease and respect, I slid it over my shoulders,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    reveling in the feel and scent of the soft, well-worn leather as it settled on my shoulders like a second skin. I always felt better when I wore my cut. Without it, I felt like something was missing. Hollow and disjointed somehow. Naked.

Lonely even.

After running a brush through my long raven-colored hair, followed by a few flicks of my wrists, I had it pulled back into a taut thick braid. I grabbed my gun and slid it into the holster affixed snugly to my thigh.

I was ready for whatever came next, no matter how dark and disturbing it might be.

Just the way I liked it.

Craved it.

With a smile on my face, I headed for the war room of the clubhouse. My father had always called it church, but I much preferred war room. It was more fitting anyway with my girls. Every single one of us enjoyed kicking a little ass. If only my father could see me now. He would have no choice but to choke on his words for once. That would be a sight to see. A low laugh escaped my lips and I smiled at the image in my mind’s eye.

As the door to my room snapped closed behind me, the voice of Cherry Pie, the Vice President of the Gypsy Riders, echoed down the hallway. I couldn’t hold back the smile that curled up my lips.

Life was good. Great even.