Devil’s game

Chapter Ten

I stared at him, stunned.
“I know guys think things like that,” I said slowly. “But you do realize you’re not supposed to say them out loud, right?”
He sighed.
“Em, I really like you. We covered that. I like you enough not to play games? okay? That means I’m not gonna feed you any romantic bullshit.”
Huh. Wasn’t sure how to take that. On the one hand, I didn’t want him lying to me. On the other, I didn’t like the honesty, either. Made it too hard to pretend that this wasn’t completely insane.
“So let’s lay it all out,” I said. “You want to f*ck me, but you don’t care about me. I want to f*ck you, but trust me, every time you open your mouth, I care about you less.”
“Pretty much,” he muttered.
“We should do it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s do it,” I said, warming to the idea. “F*ck. Screw. Boink. I know you’re good at it, and it’s about time I got it over with. Let’s go in there and have at it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
I smiled up at him brightly, pleased with myself. It was a brilliant plan.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said, closing his eyes. “Un-f*cking-real. Em, we need to get you home. Now.”
“You’re turning me down?” I asked, raising my brows. “Because you seemed pretty ready to go for it at the bar, and you sure as shit weren’t faking it when you had me cuffed to the bed. Pretty certain I didn’t imagine that part.”
“Yeah, Em. I’m turning you down.”
“Well, f*ck you, a*shole. Oh wait, we’re not doing that, are we?” I said peevishly, looking past him. The front door had opened, and I could see girls dancing inside. Some of them weren’t wearing much in the way of clothing. Interesting. “If you’re gonna be boring, I’ll just go check out the party.”
I pushed past him and walked into the living room, looking around curiously. If Hunter wanted to be a dickwad, I’d find someone else to entertain me.
Now, I grew up in an MC, so it wasn’t like the party totally shocked me. But Dad always kicked me out before things got too crazy at the Armory, because he’s mean like that. I have a good imagination, though, and I’ve heard stories about wild club parties.
Stories that were apparently pretty accurate. Sweet.
Across the wall was a long banner that said “Welcome Home, Clutch.” Right underneath it sat a big recliner, all covered with gold cloth like a throne. There was a mini fridge set next to it, and attached to one arm was an elaborate remote-control holster. I made careful note of each peripheral detail, because my eyes kept shying away every time I tried to look at the action taking place in the chair.
A man wearing a Devil’s Jack cut lay back, a giant grin on his face. I couldn’t tell if it was from watching the half-naked stripper working the pole in the center of the room, the two fully naked chicks on the couch sixty-nining each other, or the girl giving him a blow job. Whatever the cause, Clutch (I assumed it was Clutch) was in a very, very good mood.
Well, at least now I knew what the party was for.
I started wandering across the room, which was full of guys drinking beer, couples making out, and oh … look at that. There was a giant plasma TV playing porn.
“Em,” Hunter called, his voice warning. I ignored him. This was far too interesting. Past the living room was a dining area. Big Boobs lay back on the table while a tall man with a hairy ass f*cked her in front of the crowd. I cocked my head, studying him carefully. He needed a wax in a big way.
Then everything turned upside down.
Hunter had grabbed me and thrown me over his shoulder, which wasn’t the most comfortable position for a woman who’d been drinking all night. It took everything I had not to barf down his back, so I started smacking him and demanding that he let me go.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, passing through the kitchen and up a flight of stairs. He turned into a room at the top, flopping me down on an unmade bed. Everything started spinning. I tried to focus on the ceiling, where something faintly green shimmered. What was that up there?
Then I burst out laughing.
“The f*ck?” Hunter asked, hands on his hips, exasperation written all over his face.
“There’s a glowing unicorn on your ceiling,” I said, awestruck. But was it real? I closed my eyes, rubbed them, then opened them again.
Nope. It was still there. Holy shit.
I sat up.
“Is there really a glowing unicorn watching us?” I asked, feeling a little panicky. “Because I see one. It’s right there.”
A smile crept across his face and he sat down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.
“Yup, there’s a unicorn up there all right,” he said. “Must’ve been a kid’s bedroom before we took the place over. Someone painted it for him, I guess.”
Well, that was good news. I might be drunk, but at least I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Why don’t you paint over it?”
“Kelsey likes it,” he said. “Actually, I kind of like it, too. We had some shitty foster homes, but there was one place we stayed that was pretty good. The woman there was way into unicorns. All over the place. They remind me of her.”
“Are you still in touch with her.”
“She’s dead,” he said shortly. “Died about a month after we moved into her house. Heart attack or something. We were damned lucky they kept us together after that—even real brothers and sisters get broken apart. F*ckin’ miracle we weren’t separated.”
I thought about my mom and dad, and how happy I’d been with them as a kid. I missed her so much. And while Dad drove me crazy, I loved him. He was always there for me. Always.
I rolled to my side, curling into him and resting my head against his chest. Then I brought my hand up and rubbed up and down the plane of his muscles, almost restlessly.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
“About what?”
“F*cking, of course. Remember? I’m not a little girl who needs protection, Hunter. I know what I want. Just lie back and relax, because it’s not personal. I’m just going to borrow your dick for a while.”
He stilled.
“You’re really, really drunk, Em. I think we should talk about it tomorrow. If you’re still interested then, I’m all over it.”
I pushed myself up to lean on his chest, glaring at him.
“If you don’t f*ck me right now, I’m going downstairs to find someone who will,” I threatened. “I’m serious. I’m done with this virgin princess bullshit.”
His face hardened.
“Yeah, that ain’t happening.”
I tried to sit up, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight. Then he rolled, taking me with him until I was settled underneath, one of his legs between mine. I felt his dick against my stomach and smiled. That was good—for a minute I’d been worried he’d lost interest. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away, scowling.
“Oh, seriously?” I asked. “Let me get this straight. You’ve got a drunk girl who wants to have sex with you in your bed. You’ve made it clear you aren’t interested in love or romance. The drunk girl is cool with that. Are you sure you’re actually a real biker? Because something here isn’t adding up, Liam.”
His face softened.
“Say it again.”
“Are you sure you’re actually a real biker?” I asked. He shook his head and grinned.
“No, my name. Liam.”
“Liam,” I said, letting it roll around my tongue. “Liam. Liam. F*ck me, Leeeeam.”
“Christ, I love how you say that. Nobody calls me that but you, Em.”
“That sounded almost sweet,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But we aren’t playing games. I know you aren’t sweet, so stop pretending.”
He dropped his forehead down, resting it against mine.
“Never thought I’d see you again,” he said quietly. “Not gonna blow it now.”
“Maybe I should blow you?”
His face twisted almost painfully, hips swiveling against mine. For a minute I thought I had him. Then he kissed the tip of my nose and rolled off me. He tucked me into his side again, and used his free arm to grab a remote control off the bedside table. The TV sitting on top of a battered dresser flickered to life.
“Tell you what. Let’s hang out for a while. You sober up and still want to go at it, no problem. My dick’s all yours,” he said. “Until then, we’ll watch some TV. You like Top Gear?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to yawn. I glanced up at the unicorn. It seemed to wink at me, sneaky bastard. I decided to rest my eyes for a minute, because they obviously weren’t working right. Five minutes later I was sound asleep.
I was dead.
Only death and damnation to hell could explain suffering this terrible.
Horrible, unspeakably bright sunlight attacked me. I tried covering my eyes with my arm. Unfortunately, this brought it into contact with my head, which exploded into waves of painful throbbing.
I heard the door open.
“Morning,” Hunter said cheerfully. “I brought you some coffee.”
I wasn’t dead, I realized. I tried to think back, remember the night before. Flashes hit me. Strippers. A glowing unicorn. British people talking about cars …
Oh God.
I’d thrown a jealous tantrum and demanded Hunter have sex with me. Then I’d fallen asleep on top of him. Kit. This was all Kit’s fault. She bought the devil shots. She insisted we stalk Hunter. Hell, she’d texted him in the first place.
My sister would pay for this.
“You want some Advil?” Hunter asked. I slowly peeled my gummy eyelids open. He stood over me, his hair wet and his skin glowing with the fresh vigor of a newly showered man.
Damn him and his sobriety.
“Advil would be great,” I said, unsteadily sitting upright. The covers fell down as I reached for the coffee.
Then I realized I was wearing only my bra and panties.
“Crap,” I said, grabbing for the sheet.
“Not like I haven’t seen it before,” Hunter said reasonably. “I stripped you down last night, figured you’d be more comfortable. Also, I think you spilled booze on the shirt. It smelled funny.”
Of course it did, I thought, mentally sighing. Because getting drunk and making an ass of myself wasn’t enough. Nope. I had to stink, too. Wordlessly, I reached for the coffee. I took a sip of the dark, bitter liquid, feeling it flow down my throat like a miracle drug. I was already feeling more human—amazing what a little caffeine can do.
Hunter sat down on the bed next to me.
“Think you’ll live?” he asked.
I considered the question carefully.
“Not sure,” I admitted. “Physical suffering aside, I’m pretty sure I’ll never live last night down. I’m sorry I was such a freak.”
He gave a laugh.
“Yeah, because I’ve never seen someone get drunk and stupid before,” he said. “Not that I didn’t appreciate you climbing all over me. But what the hell was that all about? Wasn’t like you.”
“Kit,” I said, her name a curse. “All her idea. For the record, she’s the one who texted you, too. My sister is insane. I’m not entirely sure she’s even human.”
I took another drink, then had a horrible realization. I’d abandoned my sister—drunk—in the middle of a party where screwing women publicly on tables was socially acceptable.
“Is she okay?” I asked, full of sudden panic. “Have you seen Kit?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “Down in the kitchen with Kelsey. They’re making breakfast for all the stragglers. I guess they hit it off last night—now they’re building some kind of unholy alliance.”
I shuddered.
“Just what the world needs. Did I really ask you to fu—have sex with me last night?”
“Yup,” he said, looking smug. “I’m on board with that now, by the way. You were just way too out of it last night for us to have any fun.”
“Wow, what a prince,” I muttered. “You won’t screw a drunk girl. Were you class president, too?”
He laughed.
“Trust me, it wouldn’t have been fun for either of us. I’m not into necrophilia. You were so out of it I kept getting nervous and checking to make sure you hadn’t stopped breathing.”
“Ewww.”
“Hey, not my fault. I was sober, remember? You’re the one who poured those shots down your throat.”
Oh, I remembered that part. Vividly.
“I feel like something died inside me.”
“That would be your liver,” he said helpfully, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m gonna go check on Clutch, and then we’ll talk. Make yourself comfortable. Bathroom’s across the hall. Oh, and Em?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night was a game changer, so far as I’m concerned. I gave you your space, let you go. But you came back, so now you’re fair game. I’m done being the nice guy.”
I eyed him suspiciously, then pulled the covers up and over my head. I wasn’t ready to think about this. I heard him leave the room. Damn it. Why didn’t he have blackout curtains in here? After a while, the door opened again.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll get up. I was just drifting …”
“Don’t worry about it,” a voice said. Not Hunter’s, but one I knew way too well. I peeked out and over the covers.
Skid.
“What are you doing?” I asked, eyes darting nervously. He closed the door behind him and clicked the lock, loudly and deliberately. Then he leaned back against the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice cold.
“You can’t hurt me,” I said quickly, hoping it was true. “Hunter will be pissed as hell if you try to do anything.”
He gave a harsh laugh.
“I don’t care about you enough to hurt you,” he said. “What happened before? That’s behind us. You were defending yourself and I was trying to save my brother from a f*cking Reaper lunatic. We’ll call it even and let it go, at least as far as you’re concerned. This is something else.”
I cocked my head, not sure whether to believe him. Not that I had many options. I mean, I guess I could scream for Hunter. But Skid wasn’t making a move at me and now I was curious.
“What?”
“You need to leave Hunter alone. You have no idea how much you’re f*cking up his life. I want you to get up, take your sister, and go away.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Why would I do that?” I asked, even though until that moment I’d half planned to take off anyway. But I really didn’t like being told what to do.
“Do you give even the slightest shit about him?” Skid asked, meeting my gaze without a hint of trickery. “If you do, you need to end this. It’s a game for you, but it’s going to destroy him. You’re like a virus in his head, eating him up and burning him out. How much do you know about his background?”
“I know he was in foster care …” I said, not wanting to admit how little he’d told me.
“He has nobody,” Skid said with careful emphasis. “It’s him, Kelsey, and the Devil’s Jacks. We’re his family, his work, his home. Everything. At this rate, he’ll be running this club some day—a functional club, without all the bullshit we’ve been fighting our way through these past few years. A relationship with you ends all that. He’d have to step back. We’d let him stay in the club, but if he’s with a Reaper, he won’t be trusted.”
I stared at him.
“That’s totally unfair—and it doesn’t make sense. You guys planned for him to get together with me in the first place. I’m the glue to hold the truce together or some such bullshit. How come it’s all changed?”
Skid snorted.
“Yeah, that was fine when he didn’t give a damn about you,” he said. “But it’s pretty obvious it’s deeper than that now. He talked club business with you—I know he did, so don’t bother denying it. And if he told you shit once, he’ll do it again. We can’t have our national sergeant at arms sharing secrets with Picnic Hayes’s daughter. He starts sleeping with you, it’s over for him and that’s a fact.”
I lay back, thinking. Wow.
“He’s really going to be a national officer?” I asked. “That’s … Isn’t he too young?”
“Things are changing for the Jacks. He’s one of the men behind those changes. We’ll have elections soon and that’s how it’s gonna play out. Unless you f*ck it up for him.”
“Crap,” I muttered. I sat up, carefully holding the sheet in place. “You do realize that I have no idea what’s going on with him and me? I’m not even sure there’s an us at this point.”
“Exactly,” Skid said. “So are you willing to destroy his life just so you can explore it? Because if you care about him, it’s a shit thing to do. And don’t try to tell me you don’t care about him, either. I saw you last night. You’re as f*cked in the head as he is.”
I stared at the wall, trying to process what he was saying. The hangover wasn’t helping.
“Can I ask you one thing?” I said finally.
“Sure.”
“Why are you so sure I can’t be trusted?”
He just looked at me for long seconds, judging me with his eyes.
“Because you lied to your own club.”
“I had no idea Hunter was a Devil’s Jack—” I started to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping me.
“Not that,” he said, his voice cold. “Later, at the house. You called and told him to get out, right in the middle of a meet with your dad. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me. You used my f*cking phone to do it.”
My breath caught.
“I smashed your phone.”
He offered a dark, cynical smile.
“Let me guess, your dad pays for your cell?”
I didn’t reply. He did, but I’d be damned if I’d admit it now.
“I have an online record of calls,” Skid said slowly and carefully, like he was talking to an idiot. Apparently he was. “I saw the number and the time stamp, Em. I know what you did. I can prove it.”
Oh, f*ck … He could destroy me. And he would, too. I saw it in his eyes. Double f*ck.
“So you hate me because I saved his life and yours?” I asked, feeling like a cornered animal. “I protected the peace between our clubs, Skid. That wasn’t a betrayal. That saved all of us.”
“I don’t hate you at all,” he replied. “I’m thankful to you. I love Hunter—he’s my brother, and he’d be dead right now if you hadn’t done it. Why d’you think I’ve kept my mouth shut? But can you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same for your dad? Say you were Hunter’s old lady. Would you make a call to save your father’s life, if you knew we might kill him? Because this truce may not last long term. You ready to make that choice?”
The thought stabbed through me. Of course I would save my dad. It must’ve been written all over my face. Skid gave a sad smile.
“You’ll always have divided loyalties, Em,” he said almost compassionately. “Our sergeant at arms shouldn’t be with a woman who isn’t a hundred percent behind the Jacks. Not if he’s been stupid enough to fall in love with her.”
“You think he’s in love with me?” I asked, my heart hopeful and breaking all at once.
“I think he’s something,” he replied, shrugging. “I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right word. Not sure he’s capable of love the way you’d think of it. But he cares enough about you to compromise his judgment. I know he went to see you at your house, and I know he told you things you shouldn’t have heard. That’s enough to end it right there. If you care about Hunter—if you want him to have a future—you need to leave this house and never come back.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t think of a damned thing to say.
Skid was right.
“Go on,” I told him, feeling sick to my stomach. “Distract Hunter or something. I’ll grab my clothes, then Kit and I will take off. I don’t want to see him, though. Not sure I can handle that.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I’ll ask him to help me in the back yard. We need to move the keg and clean up anyway. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
Eight minutes later, I was practically racing down the street, Kit trailing after me like a sad, spoiled little puppy.
“Why did we have to leave?” she whined. “I like Kelsey. We were having fun. She’s a lot like me—I think we could be friends.”
“I’ll tell you when we get home,” I muttered, keeping my eyes forward. I couldn’t let myself think about Hunter, let alone explain it right now. I didn’t want to start crying.
Sometimes doing the right thing sucks.
HUNTER

I stared down at my empty bed, jaw clenching.
I’d known something was wrong the instant Skid and I walked into the kitchen. Kelsey stood at the stove by herself, flipping pancakes and muttering soft curses.
“You,” she said, turning to glare at us. She pointed her bright red spatula menacingly, waving it back and forth, apparently unable to decide on a target. “You scared them off.”
“Who?” I asked.
Skid sighed.
“It’s my fault,” he said. “I told Em she should get out of here and leave you alone.”
“What?” I asked, stunned. I glanced over at Kelsey, who shrugged. “F*ck.”
I took the stairs two at a time, which was a complete waste of effort. Em wasn’t up there. I found a piece of paper on the bed, though.
Liam—I’m so sorry, but this whole thing was a big mistake. I want you to know there’s no hard feelings and I hope things go great for you and your club.
Take care, Em
I dropped the note and strode over to the window, pushing it open and looking outside.
Nothing.
F*ck. F*ck.
Then I clenched the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, trying to decide the best way to kill Skid. It came to me. I’d beat him to death. Immediately. I found him down in the kitchen, locked in a glaring match with Kelsey. Without a word, I spun him around and punched him in the face.
He staggered and I punched him again, sending him into the fridge with a crash. The top was lined with bottles of hard liquor, and they started falling like dominoes. Some bounced on the painted wooden floorboards and others shattered.
The raw stench of alcohol filled the kitchen.
“What the hell did you do?” I yelled at him. “Who I screw is my business! Not yours. Not the club’s. You stay the f*ck out of my life, brother.”
He held up his hands, clearly not wanting a fight. Tough shit. I jerked him to his feet and hit him again. Blood spurted from his nose, and I saw—reflected in his eyes—the instant he decided to start fighting back.
I’m not sure how long it lasted.
What I do know is that we tumbled off the back porch, through the shrubs, and onto the lawn all without losing a beat. By the time it ended, Clutch, Grass, Kelsey, and several random women left over from the party were all standing on the back porch watching.
Pretty sure Clutch and Grass were taking bets.
I decided the winner owed me drinks, because I’d kicked Skid’s ass … But by the time I had him knocked out and helpless in the dirt, my brain had started working again. I glanced up at our audience and frowned, staggering slightly. He’d gotten in some pretty good hits. My head was spinning—I figured there was a decent chance I had a concussion.
“Go away,” I growled. “This is private.”
Grass herded them back in, although Kelsey tried to insist on staying outside. He ended the argument by picking her up and carrying her while she rewarded him with a flurry of head smacks from the spatula.
I collapsed to the ground, staring blankly up at the clouded sky.
“You okay?” I asked Skid. He rolled over, moaning.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I had to do it, bro.”
“You didn’t have to do shit.”
“She’s no good for you,” he said. “She’s not some little puppet you can control. She lied for you to her own club, which is f*ckin’ romantic until you consider that same loyalty is attached to the Reapers, too. You’d never be able to trust her, brother. And if you did, we’d never be able to trust you.”
“Still not your decision to make,” I said slowly. “So you figured it out, I guess?”
“Phone records,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry. Won’t show ’em to anyone. Figure I owe her that much, given that she saved your sorry ass. But seriously—elections are coming, and unless you want to pull out, you can’t be with her.”
“That’s my problem,” I told him.
“No, it’s a club problem,” Skid said seriously. “Burke needs a right-hand man he can trust, and we all know it’s you. But I’m your right hand, bro. It’s my job to make sure your head’s in the game. Right now it isn’t.”
I flipped him off, draping my arm over my eyes.
“Nobody knows about that phone call,” I said. “It’s not an issue.”
“I know about the phone call,” Skid replied, his voice quiet without compromise. “And the day it puts our club in danger is the day I’ll stop guarding her secret. It’s not personal, brother. I don’t actually dislike the chick, despite what you might think. But I can’t let her get too close to you.”
I sighed. F*ck.
“This isn’t over,” I told him. “I’m not giving up on her.”
“You giving up the national office?” Skid asked. “Think carefully, bro. You can only have one or the other.”
I didn’t reply—I’d spent the last eight years working to prove myself, to show Burke I was the man he could count on in a fight. I wasn’t ready to give up all I’d earned.
Shit. Skid was right.
I had a problem.