One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1) (11 page)

She swings her attention to me, her dark brown eyes slanting and her long silky legs crossing over. “I was wondering if you were lonely?” she asks, bringing the beer to her lips, running them softly over the rim of the glass. To any other guy, the scene would be hot, erotic even. Not to me, though, she does nothing for me. She’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but I have zero interest in her outside of getting my dick wet. That’s only when I’ve had too much to drink or when thoughts come into my mind that I try to squash. Those thoughts involve a young girl with dirty hair and clothes, and an emptiness in her eyes that God himself couldn’t fill. I’m fucked up and I know it. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I have thought of chasing her, I know it would be easy enough to do if I really wanted. Let’s face it, I have enough connections. But I know she’ll be okay now.
She has to be, right?
Her dad is dead, now she can live without her worst nightmare.

I laugh, bringing my drink to my lips. “Not today.”

Her eyes drop to her hands. “Beast, surely… I mean, I’m the only girl you’ve really seen since you’ve been here. I thought we had established a relationship.”

I drop my drink on the counter, bringing my eyes to hers. “If you think for one second that just because you’re the only pussy I’ve had since I got here that that makes you special pussy, you have another think coming. There’s been another, Shelby. Get off your shit,” I state coldly, bringing the drink back to my lips. Bone Thugs in Harmony
‘Notorious Thugs’
begins playing through the sound system and I know Hella has obviously obtained control of the music.

“Beast…” she answers sadly.

I laugh. “Go home, Shelby. I’ll call you when I’m drunk.” I push my seat back, scooping up my drink and making my way to the table where Hannibal and Ripper are sitting and laughing—probably about something sick and inappropriate. Taking my seat as they continue to laugh, I shake my head. “What’s so funny?”

“Did you know that if you fuck a girl who’s been filled with enough gasoline, her body could actually ignite in flames from the inside out?” Hannibal is laughing from his seat, his evil fucking smirk surrounding his bottle.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re a sick fuck.

I’m on my way to Phoebe’s house because Melissa called me an hour ago and asked me if I could meet them there. She’s in bad shape. Ryder Oakley worked another number on her and I’m about ready to give my first ass kicking. Phoebe may have a tough exterior, but she’s sweet and squishy on the inside.

Pulling up to her house, I run up her front steps that join onto her little wrap around porch, turn the door handle and push it open. Her house is small compared to the twenty-car garage she has sitting beside it. But it’s comfortable, warm and inviting—everything Phoebe is.

“Hello?” I call out, shutting the door behind me.

“In here,” Melissa replies out from the kitchen.

Walking in, I see them both sitting at the kitchen table, clutching their cups of coffee.

“Hey.” I move to Phoebe and pull out the seat next to her. “You okay?”

She brings her eyes to me. “Nope. He broke me again.
Again!
” she whispers angrily.

Looking at Melissa, I smile. “It’s okay, Phoebe. We’ll get through this.”

She nods her head. “I hope so.”

The front door opens again and Blake walks in with Shooter, Phoebe’s Cane Corso dog running up behind him.

“Come, I want to show you something real quick,” Blake says to her.

“Why?”

“Will you be on your feet to open the circuit tomorrow? I already have everyone here packed and ready. Everything’s ready for you. I’ve been planning it since you left. It’s just a good thing everyone flew in early this week.” He scratches his head roughly. The circuit is the racing circuit Phoebe is about to open showcasing the hottest girl racers from around the world—my bestie is a genius. She pushes her seat back in excitement, taking a stand.

“Are you kidding me? Yes, yes, I’m ready.”

And just like that, her eyes light up like the fourth of July.

“All right then, let’s head to
Speedy’s Way
.” I giggle under my breath at her face beaming up at her brother. Speedy is her nickname that she had been crowned since she was a child. She named her circuit after it.

Linking our arms together, she takes us to her monster garage.

“Oh dear God, here we go,” I mutter under my breath. Every car ride with Phoebe is like a race against time.

I’m in my office, sorting through paperwork when Hella walks in, his face falling.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, dropping the papers of last month’s earnings in a pile beside the door. Yeah, I think I need to hire an accountant. One that doesn’t ask questions about what we do. Somehow, I don’t think that will be so easy.

“Someone’s been following me. It’s happened a few times,” he answers, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

“Yeah, same here. Black SUV? They haven’t made a move yet. We’re sitting ducks waiting, though.” I lean back into my seat, stretching my legs out.

“We need to end this once and for all. Blow up their entire pad,” he replies casually.

I laugh. “Hella, there are innocent people in there. We just need a plan to get them out safely, and then we kill them all. What about your girl in Westbeach?”

Raising his eyebrows, he asks, “Who? Abby? Ha! She’s not my girl. Yeah, I’ll hit her up.”

“And Hella?” I yell out before he hits the door on his way out. “Get me an accountant. One that’s crooked around the lines.”

“How am I supposed to find an accountant that’s going to not ask questions about what we do?”

“I don’t know. Use that imagination.”

He closes the door behind himself. Standing from my chair, I make my way to the bar. I’m sick of looking at numbers. They ain’t my thing.

Pulling out a chair, I slide in next to Hannibal. “We need an accountant, brother. I fucking hate doing numbers.”

He shrugs. “I know someone. She’s a little feisty, doesn’t take shit, but won’t ask questions about what goes on here.”

Turning myself to him, I raise my eyebrows. “Who is she?”

“My sister’s best friend. Fucking annoying little bitch, but she’s lived with us since she was fourteen when both her parents died in a car accident. She’s twenty-two now and just graduated with a degree in accounting and small business. She and my sister still live at my olds, they’re looking for jobs and all that now.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think this is what she’d be interested in.”

“Oh…” he smirked around his glass, “…I’m sure I can persuade her.”

“Jesus, you dipping in that?”

He shakes his head. “Fuck no. Fuck off. No. I hate her.”

“Well, how the hell are you going to get her to come then, fuckface?”

“I have my wicked ways.” He smirks up at me.

“I don’t doubt that… at all.”

And I don’t. Hannibal is one of the craziest motherfuckers I know. He and Hella run around the same level of crazy, but even Hella has limits. Hannibal doesn’t. He’s twenty-five, one of the younger ones in our club, and has the kind of level of crazy that you never want to cross.

“I’ll hit her up. When do you want her to start?”

“Whenever.”

He takes his drink and walks upstairs to one of the bedrooms up in the loft. I shake my head around a laugh.
Fucking psycho.

The rest of the day goes averagely slow, with my phone getting call after call from Shelby. I decide to drop it and leave it in my pocket on silent.

Hella walks up to me when I’m in the back shed, sorting through our next shipment. “I got hold of Abby, she said she can help. She’s got this crazy plan about bringing down the Russians as well and wants to kill two birds with the one stone. She needs us to bait
The Army
out to meet up where she’s having the Russians lead to. They know about
The Army
and the operations that they run, but they can’t touch them. She needs one of the Commanders—preferably Kurr—so she can slowly break him to see which corrupt government is behind it.”

“It’s our corrupted government.”

“She needs to provide proof.”

“What makes her think she can change it? There’s no way.”

“By exposing them,” he answered.

“Those commanders will die before they talk,” I clarify with him, turning my attention back to the AKA I’m holding.

“Yeah, but they’re trialing out this new shit. Like, truth serum. They want to try it out on one.”

“Truth serum?” I scoff, putting the weapon back into the box.

“Beast, we come from a place where that shit exists. Don’t play it off like it’s not possible.”

He has a point.

“All right, so what… we need to draw them to where?”

“To a park off State Highway Three. You pull right in, the whole road is desert and hides perfectly behind some sand dunes. It’s perfect.”

“Wait a minute… sitting there with some fucking Russians and Feds? Nah, this doesn’t feel right.”

“Trust me. This is going to work. I trust her.”

“I don’t.”

“Well then, trust me.”

“Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow. It all goes down tomorrow. Which shouldn’t be a problem considering that black SUV has been parked up down Gregory Valley Road for the past week.”

“You sure? Fuck,” I answer, pushing my hands into my pockets.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m sure they know I know, too.” He makes his way over to where I’m standing and takes out one of the AKA’s from the cargo box. “Time to blow some shit up,” he smirks, lifting the weapon into the air.

I whack his hand down. “Something still doesn’t feel right about this.”