Lethal (Devil's Shadow MC Book 1) Read online

  I have to remember to let go of every rational thought as I reach the stage. Men around me let out excited screams. I start giving them a fucking smile like it is normal. The smell of booze grows stronger as my hips start swaying to the beat of the music. Closing my eyes, I start moving, leaving this place to distant memories. In my mind, I am mimicking a woman I know too well.

  Keep smiling.

  Don’t show what you’re thinking.

  Don’t make eye contact.

  My arms tighten around the pole, twirling my ass to give them a show. The screams increase when I reach back and unhook my bra. With every breath, I let myself go. Opening my eyes again, they start wandering to see at least one of the Devils. I’m not mistaken when I notice a couple of guys wearing the Devil’s Shadow cuts, watching me intensely.

  Yet none of them feel worthy of being called Lethal.

  Ignoring the boys in the crowd, I search for the man I’m here for when goosebumps rise on my arms. Someone is looking at me…no, glaring at me. Remembering not to panic, I search again when, far away from the Devils, a pair of hazel eyes meet mine. I should have torn my eyes from him, to keep searching for the one I came here for. But I can’t.

  His eyes hold the most hypnotic look I’ve ever seen. A glare is thrown into my face when he notices my hands start wandering down and down until I am pinching my already hardened nipples. It’s funny when in the eyes of everyone here, I didn’t even notice they are tingling, but when this stranger’s eyes watch my every move, it makes me keep going like I was never before.

  It’s like the crowd has disappeared and I am only giving this man a show; he will be hard every time he remembers. His stone-cold face is wavering by the moment I am rubbing myself against the pole, sliding down and rising again slowly, imagining it as his cock. Maybe he also thinks that because a look of disbelief forms on his face, watching his cock getting visible through his jeans.

  I could have done more if not at that moment the same hateful look on his face returns, and with a dark growl, he leaves the place. And to my surprise, I wish to see him again when I finish my number and leave the stage.

  But I can’t.

  Even fucking a stranger is a dangerous prospect nowadays.

  “Hey, come here!” I only manage to hear the husky laugh coming from my targets. Okay, Grace, you can do it. You can make sure to join the Devils to ruin them. I take a deep breath before starting to walk toward them.

  “Sit on my lap,” a guy not much older than me whispers. I can’t even see his face properly in the dim light, but I can see he is hard, though that doesn’t make it easier on me. I only manage to give him a timid smile before I am positioned on his lap. I lose track of time as my hips start meeting his, all while imagining the stranger’s face.

  “Hmm.” He is breathing heavily when, with a growl, he comes. I try not to jump off his lap, praying for the dizziness to go away. His fingers dig into my hips while his lips meet mine in a heated kiss.

  “What’s your name?” he asks, all while trailing his lips down my neck, allowing his teeth to leave marks.

  “Um…Jade.” Stuttering, I gasp when his hot mouth captures one of my nipples, tugging it as he pleases. Moaning, I tune out the groans coming from all the Devils at the table. Even the female is eyeing me like a piece of meat.

  I only open my eyes when the unnamed man traces my cheeks in a gentle manner, almost like he is in fucking love with me.

  “You didn’t come,” he whispers with a grunt.

  Oh, hell. Why’d he have to notice that? Guys like him don’t care if we come or not.

  “I-I am stressed, that’s all,” I answer with a wink. He shares a strange look with all his friends before saying the words that have me almost gasp in surprise.

  “Why don’t you come to the Devil’s club to hang out? I’ll manage Prez to give you a permit to enter.”

  Maybe I will regret it tomorrow. But for today? That’s what I will take if it means they will get what they deserve.

  CHAPTER 4

  LETHAL

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  I slam my fist into the punching bag, but the only thing it manages to do is make me angrier. Those fucking dark eyes still haunt me as I keep hitting the bag, making it shake in protest.

  “Wow, what did the punchin’ bag do to you?”

  I turn to face a smiling Reaper standing behind me. On any other day, I would send him off with a middle finger. But today, the only way I greet him is by throwing my fist on his face. I must’ve surprised him because he loses his balance, staggering a little.

  “Fuck!” he cries out, cradling his nose. Wiping the blood, he shouts loud enough for everyone to hear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I force out a laugh. “Fight me.”

  “I’m not gonna fight you, Prez.” Spitting some blood out of his mouth, he continues. “Not when you can very well snap my neck.”

  Those dark eyes.

  Taunting me.

  Destroying me.

  “Reaper, fight me!” I could’ve begged him to make those memories go away. How it felt like she only danced for me. Only I was allowed to touch her, fuck her, and destroy her. Like I was the only one worthy of her mind, body, and soul.

  It wasn’t working.

  Fuck, it wasn’t.

  “Prez, are you all right?” Reaper asks after a while when none of us says a word. Resentment is eating me away. I don’t lust after girls. Especially girls that belong to Cornwall’s. No one can dance numbers if they don’t belong to Cornwall’s strip club. And that bastard always had eyes on the troublesome, crazy ones.

  No wonder. I hate her, too.

  She makes me want to choke her with my bare hand and at the same time drive into her warm glove.

  It was a fucking surprise that she gave me a raging hard-on only by watching her.

  “Do we have anyone in the cell we don’t need anymore? I need to kill something,” I ask Reaper, whose mouth falls open in shock. I need a distraction. And what’s better than finishing off some fuckers?

  “Prez, I think—”

  “Lead the way, Reaper.” I lift the gun. I really don’t need any more talking as he is already walking ahead of me. A shadow falls over me when we reach the dark cell and one of Cornwall’s men greets me.

  “Leave us.”

  The sound of a lock turning makes the fucker start to thrash out, cursing my parents like I fucking care. My knuckles throb to beat him up, but I don’t. Walking closer, I notice his face is almost unrecognizable. When we caught him, he was already running away from Cornwall. Too bad, he ended up right into our trap.

  Talk about cheese calling the mouse back.

  “Dominic,” he spits.

  “In the flesh,” I say, giving him the same cold face I can’t get rid of. The part that has become me. Words can’t explain the feeling when I tug the man’s hair, almost ripping it to shreds. He lets out a scream, begging me to let go. “Though I think I heard you wrong. It’s Lethal, not Dominic.”

  I hate being called Dominic. My old man used to love calling me by that name when I was a kid. That time, I might’ve liked to be called by my last name. But now, it only makes me want to pummel fuckers to the ground.

  Weighing the gun in my hand, I am conflicted if I should just use the gun or choke him until his eyes drop. Wavering between these two options, I take the third one.

  The more deserved one for him.

  Putting the gun down so that it can reach his hands, I carefully position it in a way that it is only directed toward him. Even if he wants to, he can’t use this gun to shoot me, other than him.

  “Shoot.” His eyes bulge out, and he starts shaking his head while screaming. He tries to turn the gun, but the ropes around him make it impossible for him to use the gun in his favor.

  “Shoot yourself or I will.” I draw the second gun and aim at his head. Either he will shoot or I will. When two minutes later the fucker still tries
not to shoot, I exhale quickly before digging the gun on his forehead.

  “Shoot, or should I? Because I would love to blow your fuckin’ face off. I’m countin’ to five.” The fucker finally flinches, closing his eyes.

  “One.”

  Heavy breathing.

  “Two.”

  A whimper.

  “Three.”

  A whisper of begging.

  “Four.”

  Bang!

  The back of his head slumps forward, some of the blood dripping down from his wound on the floor. The fucker killed himself. And yet…

  I am still hungry for more blood to spill.

  ***

  Damn her.

  Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my fist working. But damn it to hell, in my twenty-eight years of a miserable life, for the first time my cock is betraying me. I know my cock is screaming for a release. But nothing is enough. Faster, slower, and worse of all, the bottle of lube lying in the bed mocking me. And yet I can’t fucking make myself come and release myself from this painful raging boner.

  In one fleeting moment, I consider calling Foxy, but even I know that won’t get me off. With a groan, my eyes close.

  Closing my eyes is a mistake.

  Because the next moment, I am imagining a dark-haired girl slowly making her way to my bed. Crawling on the bed, she is hovering over me. Her face is blank, no indication if she is feeling something. But her eyes, though…they’re begging me to make her mine.

  My gaze slides down to her body, and fuck, my cock finally shows up to shake my hands. Seeing her only in a lacy bra and a thong is probably the reason my whole body shivers to get a taste of her.

  Unconsciously, my hands make their way to cup one of her breasts, and I can’t help but rip her see-through bra off from the middle. She lets out a gasp when I pinch her already hardened nipple, twisting it to see her reaction.

  “Isaiah!” she breathes out when my mouth comes down to capture one of her pebbled nipples. Fuck, it feels ecstatic to hear her calling my first name. Flipping her on her back, one hand wrapped around her one breast and another tortured by my teeth, I can only grunt as her moans increase.

  “Please…don’t stop. Don’t you dare…stop, oh fuck!” She lets out a whimper when I roughly pull down her thong and press my thumb harder on her clit. As soon as I drive my fingers into her wet cunt, she lets out a sigh. The little minx grinds against my fingers, causing my cock to almost burst.

  In and out.

  Slow.

  Fast.

  Her quiet ohs make me claim her mouth and give her a wild kiss she will never forget. Licking her lips, I am drowning in her. Those big, hooded eyes keep staring at me as I feel her walls clamp down on my fingers. Her small hands are on my cock, stroking it as I am pumping my fingers into her cunt.

  Fuck.

  This is heaven.

  This is hell.

  Soon she is trembling and screaming my name as she comes hard on my fingers. Opening my eyes, I groan, watching my fist going faster, and I come hard, shuddering my bliss. It is pure agony to cum thinking of a girl I know nothing about. It’s dangerous to even think about what hold she has over me.

  Fuck, what is happening to me?

  CHAPTER 5

  GRACE

  “Fight, mija. Fight.”

  In my head, the words seem believable. Like I can fight my way through anything. And it has been like this for the last two years. Death has nothing on me. I’m not afraid to touch death, I don’t fear getting hurt, and I sure as hell don’t care how far I go to see people on their knees begging for mercy.

  Then why is it so hard to get rid of those cold hazel eyes?

  “When are we going to meet Cornwall? You do realize we have to pay him to shut his mouth, right?” The tension in Josh’s voice is alarming. But he always worries. So that’s nothing new. It is safe. It is home. Not like that night in the club. Josh couldn’t match those eyes, those cold, unforgiving eyes.

  Right…Cornwall.

  We are talking about Cornwall.

  “I’ll do it today right after I come back from seeing Gwen.” Hearing Gwen’s name does something to him. If he was worrying earlier, now he relaxes with a smile on his face that even I can’t help but share.

  If Josh is my lifeline, then Gwen is his.

  It is pretty fucked up how we use each other, but at the end of the day, Gwen is the one connecting us all. But she is a pretty special girl.

  “I got all the information about the Devils last night. Do you want me to run them down now?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

  “I’m ready.” I know he’s giving me a chance to refuse. To think again. Out of every other clubhouse I’ve burned down to the ground, Devil’s Shadow seems to be the only one that is dangerous, more ruthless than any other.

  Even cops are scared to deal with them, for fuck’s sake.

  “You know I am,” I repeat, just to stop him from wondering if I will be able to handle them. I know I can.

  “Okay. Okay.” He raises his hands as if in surrender. “I know you are. But that doesn’t stop me from freaking out or worrying if the next MC will be our last ones.”

  A strangled groan leaves my lips. “Josh—”

  “Fine, fine. From what I gathered, Lethal is the President of the club, his great-great-grandfather being the founder. For some reason, they don’t have a club VP anymore. His Secretary handles most of his jobs when he’s not around. He’s known as Sniper, the only cool guy of the club, as I heard. Their Sergeant-at-Arms is Hawk, who only ever stays when there’s church. Otherwise, he lives outside of the clubhouse. Their Road Captain, Reaper, is a man whore. Most of the time, he’s with women at the bar or in a strip club. Tucker and Rider don’t live at the clubhouse, either. They mainly work as Treasurer or Gunner; I’m not sure. Then there’s Foxy.” He stops huffing. “That woman is known as the troublemaker. Don’t know what her job in the club is, but people usually avoid her.”

  My gaze drifts over to him, his narrowed brown eyes pulling away from the file in his hands. I don’t bother him when he pauses to look over at me. I can’t smother the gasp when he changes the conversation, either.

  “You want to tell Gwen about your plan?” he asks, breathing in the cold air. It’s near December, the white snow making its way everywhere, covering up in white. It’s a month of happiness for everyone, but for me, it’s a deadline.

  Destroy all those MC’s before Christmas.

  Stop thinking.

  I force myself not to think about that. To not look back to see how far I’ve fallen from the girl I once was.

  “Josh, I don’t want to tell her. And it will be best if you don’t say a word, either.” He turns to look at me, distraught, so I explain further. “She would never want me to go down that road. She never saw me kill. She knew me as the girl who hoped to become a dancer one day. I don’t want to taint that mind of hers.”

  Understanding washes over his face, and he nods, grinning. “So, should I call the center and tell them that you’re coming for a visit?”

  “Yes.”

  I can’t wait to see my little sister.

  ***

  Springfield Private Rehabilitation Center.

  The big and bold name mocks me of what’s coming the moment Josh leaves me at its entrance. Making sure that my gun is loaded, I enter into the center. The place is void of any color or people, just the way I like it. Though that doesn’t make it easier to digest why I am here. Why my sister is staying so far from Southside. So, yes, I want to worry, to take her away where no one can find her. Instead, I savor the fact that she is safer here than anywhere near me.

  “Hello, Ms. Evans. Are you here for Ms. Gloria Evans?” The voice breaks me out of my thoughts. Smiling at the older woman, I nod. Giving me an ID card, she gestures to my sister’s cabin.

  No matter how many times I come here, the suffocation doesn’t go away. I have trouble breathing, imagining her staring at me with those empty eyes.

&nbs
p; No, I can’t do this.

  But I have to. God, I have to see her one last time before I go to the Devils.

  Opening the door of the cabin, I am reminded of why I was too damn unsure to come here. It is hard to process what I am seeing. Her dark hair is usually pinned by a band but now it’s loose, running down her shoulder. Her dark eyes are locked on me, a hint of recognition on them. But her lips remain shut.

  I am already inside the room walking toward her when she tightens her grip around the wheelchair, a telltale sign that she is nervous.

  “Hey, Gwen,” I whisper softly.

  I know she can’t say a word. But she will hear. She was always a good listener. Even before this happened to her, she used to be my human diary. She knew about the crush I had on a boy in the high school and when I accidentally set the kitchen on fire…She knew my every embarrassing moment.

  “How are you, sis?”

  She tries to give me a small smile, touching her heart. I hate myself for not remembering her voice. Then I could have imagined her saying how she was. I spill out all that is happening in my life, excluding the plan of bringing down every motorcycle clubs. I don’t think she could handle that. So I tell her how Josh is. I tell her about my non-existent dance classes; I feed her lies about my non-existent work. After stumbling over the words, I feel the first sign of dried tears running down my chin. Then I cry. I cry for our loss. I cry for her. Saying sorry over and over for doing this to her. For betraying her trust to stay safe. Will she hate me if she ever knows?

  Cause I would.

  I love her so much that it freaking hurts.

  “After Christmas, I will take you home, little sis,” I promise, kissing her forehead. “You will walk again, laugh again. I will hear your voice.”

  Then I deliver her the words I know will give her the strength to get better. “Josh is waiting for you to return. You just hold on for a little while.”

  Josh and I might’ve fucked, used each other for pleasure, we might have shared kisses, we might be fiercely protective of each other, but our hearts will always belong to Gwen. As Gwen has Josh’s. But mine…No one held mine.