Devil Read online

  Her fingernails bite into my arms, scoring the skin. She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold. She doesn’t give in to the kiss, but I get the strangest feeling that she’s allowing it—that she’s not fighting it as hard as she could. That’s the last thought I have before hunger takes over and I get drunk on the taste of her. My hand moves up to her breast, squeezing it and playing with her hardened nipple. I break away from her mouth and she moans as I pull up that damn garb she has on, hating it—but happy it gives me such easy access. My hand finally touches the flesh of her thighs and I focus between her legs. She’s wearing silk panties. I didn’t expect that. The heat and wetness of her pussy is against the pads of my fingers, and I press in, immediately feeling the pulsing of her clit.

  To hell with this shit. I’ll finger-fuck her into submission and I won’t stop until she’s begging me for more.

  “Oh my God!”

  Torrent and I break apart at exactly the same time. When I look around I see that damn woman that was with Torrent at K-Mart the day I first met her. Now she’s standing there watching us and my fingers are clearly pressed between Torrent’s legs and I’m sure that’s not lost on her. Hell, even if it is, she can’t miss the way my other hand is possessively owning Torrent’s tit.

  I pull away from Torrent, not wanting to cause her problems, but it’s best this shit happened. It’s time Torrent comes to terms with the fact that she wants me—as much as I want her. She’s on fire for me. She can’t deny herself, she can’t deny us—not anymore.

  Torrent takes a couple of steps away from me. Her dress falls down, covering her, and when she looks at me, there’s a war going on in her head. I can see it clearly. Her eyes aren’t hiding anything from me.

  “I never want to see you again. I don’t have any room for you in my life, Logan. Don’t come back.”

  “Tor—”

  “I mean it. Stay away from me. If you don’t you will live to regret it,” she says and then she takes off running.

  Away from me.

  Her friend gives me a strange look and then goes after Torrent.

  I’m left standing here wondering what in the fuck just happened.

  Torrent

  “Daddy?”

  “It’s Wolf.”

  My hand tightens on the phone. It’s one in the morning and Sister Victoria came and got me out of bed to tell me my father was on the phone. Dad’s taken great pains not to contact me directly where others were involved, so a phone call—especially at this time of the day—scares me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s been some new developments at the club. Your father…”

  “Is something wrong with my dad?” I ask, and I don’t keep the terror out of my voice—I can’t.

  “He’s fine, Torrent. I promise you, but we had to take him underground.”

  “Underground? What does that even mean? I want to see him, Wolf.”

  “Torrent—”

  “I mean it. Either you come and get me or I’ll come to you. I don’t give a damn.”

  “I’ll arrange it. It will take a me a couple of days to arrange it and make it safe for you.”

  “But…”

  “Your dad is fine, Torrent. I promise you. But you have to help him right now and you have to do that by keeping yourself safe.”

  “You promise me that he’s okay?”

  “I promise. Give me two days.”

  “One.”

  “Damn it, Torrent—”

  “One day, Wolf. Then I’m out of here, either with your help or without it,” I warn him and I hang up before he can respond.

  I walk out of the office and find Sister Victoria in the hall, waiting for me, her sullen face searching mine.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “My father has taken ill. I may need to go to him immediately.”

  “I—”

  “I already know the rules, Sister Victoria, but my father is all I have left in this world and if he needs me, I’m going to be by his side and no one will stop me—not even God.”

  Shock moves across her face and I see it right before I turn away.

  I march straight to my room and start packing. I’m not giving Wolf time either. I’m leaving this damn place tonight. I need to know what’s going on with my father and I can’t trust any of his men to get to the bottom of this. The club my father loved, the club I grew up surrounded and adored by, has turned into a nest of vipers. I can’t help my father by hiding away, that much is clear. I’ve given up too much to sit on my hands and lose my father too.

  It’s time I remember I have my old man’s blood running in my veins. If we can’t trust his men to put an end to this, then by God I will. I’m not helpless. I can find things out and maybe Logan would be willing to help if he knew the truth. He might be pissed that I was lying to him at first, but he’s no stranger to our world. He’d understand. I sigh because my heart aches even thinking about Logan. I hated walking away from him. He’s come to mean a lot to me in such a short time. Maybe it will never go anywhere, but I wanted the chance to find out.

  I zip up my duffle bag after tossing in the few items I have left that are mine. Then, I throw on my jeans and T-shirt that I showed up here in. I always feel better in my own clothes. I sit down on the bed and lace up my boots and head out.

  Luckily Sister Victoria didn’t follow me, or alert anyone else. The place is deserted. Still, I walk as quietly as I can and only breathe when I get to the entrance. I undo the deadbolts on the double doors and open one just enough to slide out. I keep my front facing the inside of the convent, my back out to the sidewalk as I do my best to make sure no one inside sees me. Turns out that is my biggest mistake. Because before I can so much as scream a large gloved hand is clapped over my mouth and I’m pulled away.

  I fight.

  I truly do.

  I kick, I hit, and I try to slam my head backwards into my abductor. Nothing works. I twist, trying to get to my side so I can aim my kicks better, but the man holding me—and I’m sure he’s a man; his grip is too solid and hard, and squeezes even tighter. I’m afraid he’s going to crush my bones. I reach behind me and my hand hits skin and I dig my nails into the meaty flesh. I hear the man scream and I know a moment of victory before blinding pain thrums through me as I’m hit hard on the side of my head.

  Pain explodes, my vision goes white, gray and then bleeds into a dull blur before I sink to my knees and the world goes completely black.

  Devil

  “Can I help you?”

  I look around the inside of the chapel and shift uneasily. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve been inside any church—much less a convent. The walls are stark white, the floors wood that’s so old it’s almost black in color and the trim has been painted the same coal black. This room looks so barren, so devoid of anything warm and inviting that I don’t know how Torrent could survive here. I look up to the front of the chapel and it’s different from the rest of the room. There’s a statue of the Virgin Mary, rows of candles and a sacrament table. The bright reds used to add color shine vividly, drawing my attention. I force myself to look away.

  “I’m looking for Torrent,” I answer her, clearing my voice and shifting back and forth on my feet. I feel way out of my depth here for sure.

  “Torrent?” she parrots, studying me. “Are you her natural father?”

  I blink. Fuck, I’m not that old. Torrent is younger than me, sure—but she’s not that damn young.

  “Hell no,” I answer before I can stop myself and I instantly see the distaste on her face. “I’m… I’m a friend.”

  “A friend?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

  “This is the guy that Sister Torrent was sneaking off to see, Mother Superior,” a girl answers from the corner of the room.

  I look over at her and it doesn’t surprise me that it’s the chick that followed Torrent to the park three days ago.

  Three days.

  I haven’t seen Torren
t in three days. I kept going to the park, hoping she’d change her mind or at least come back to scream at me—something. But she’s been silent. I haven’t so much as caught a glimpse of her and that’s bullshit. She owes me at least a little more of an explanation.

  “I see,” the woman referred to as Mother Superior responds and I swear the temperature in the room drops another ten degrees.

  “I want to see Torrent,” I state again, refusing to back down. If this gets her in hot water, then she has no one to blame but herself.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she responds.

  “I’m afraid that’s not good enough. I came here to see Torrent and I’m not leaving until I do. So you need to get her… Now.” I counter.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can—”

  “She means she can’t because Torrent’s not here,” the other girl answers snidely. I don’t like the bitch. Sometimes you can look at someone and see the hate in them. This girl is chock full of hate. How they ever let her in this place I don’t have any idea. I thought nuns had to be loving and giving? The only thing this chick could give you would be a fucking headache.

  “Where is she?”

  “She left,” the girls answers, speaking over top of the other one.

  “Where did she go?”

  “I—”

  “That’s enough. Go back to your room, Elise. This is not your concern.”

  “But—”

  “Now.”

  “Yes, Mother Superior,” Elise says. She casts me another look full of hate and bitterness and walks away.

  “Where is she?”

  “I’m afraid I do not know. One of the sisters reported that Torrent got an urgent call in the middle of the night from her family. She was missing when we reported for breakfast the next morning. She left in the middle of the night and took all of her belongings.”

  “Did you contact her family?”

  “We did, not that I can see that it is your business. How well do you know Sister Torrent?”

  “I know enough to know that she doesn’t belong here,” I growl. I want answers and I’m not getting a damn one.

  “Where does she belong? With you?”

  “She’d be happier with me than here,” I defend, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

  “Just because one gives their life over to God, it doesn’t mean they are unhappy,” she says and immediately I feel out of my depth.

  “I didn’t mean that… Not exactly.”

  “If something is not your choice that doesn’t necessarily make it a wrong one.”

  “I’m sorry, Sister…” I’m getting the feeling that I’ve had my ass handed to me.

  “In any event, Torrent isn’t here and I don’t know where she is.”

  “You don’t know how to contact her?”

  “I’m afraid not. She had family, but we don’t have their information and—”

  “But—”

  “And even if I did, Mr….?”

  “Dupree,” I answer, feeling the last hope I’ve harbored fade away.

  “Even if I did, Mr. Dupree, I couldn’t give it to you.”

  “I want—”

  “I don’t have any information, but maybe you should consider something, Mr. Dupree.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Maybe Torrent left because she made her choice and you weren’t it,” she says and then she walks away.

  She leaves me standing there and with her she takes away the last hope of talking to Torrent.

  It’s over.

  No… That’s wrong… It never really began.

  Torrent was never in my reach.

  Devil

  “What in the hell is wrong with you lately?” Diesel asks. I look up at the son of a bitch and frown.

  “Not a thing, why?”

  “Ever since I sent you on that errand for Skull you’ve been sullen as a damn mule.”

  “Sometimes that country boy in you comes through, Diesel,” Fury cracks, thinking he’s funny. Diesel flips him off and ignores him. He’s not wrong but Diesel doesn’t laugh much these days. Hell, considering they’ve tried to kidnap his boy over and over, I can’t say as I blame him. Diesel is a walking poster child for why you should be careful where you stick your dick without protection. Of course no one realized Vicky was a complete whack-a-doo—until it was too late.

  “Well?” Diesel asks and I run my hand through my hair and look at the almost empty bottle of beer I’m holding. He’s right. I’m a fucking mess. I’ve been grieving the loss of Torrent for a fucking month. Grieving a woman who was playing games and was never mine.

  Grieving a woman who didn’t bother to say goodbye.

  Okay, she did say goodbye, I just didn’t realize it at the time. I sure as hell didn’t think she would walk away that easily.

  “He’s fucked up over a woman,” Fury smirks, taking a pull on his beer.

  “When in the hell did I miss that? I don’t remember you bringing a woman around here.”

  “I—” I start but stop when Fury answers for me—again.

  “He didn’t. Hah, that’s the best part of the story. He wouldn’t dare bring this woman to the club, man.”

  “Why in the fuck not?” Diesel growls. “The club is part of who you are, Devil. Shit, you’ve been in this life as long as I have. We were born into it.”

  “He—”

  “Will you fucking shut up, Fury?” I growl, draining my bottle. I aim it toward the trash can which is probably twenty feet away. It goes too far to the left and crashes on the floor. Seems to be a symbol of my life right now. “Last time I checked I could talk for myself,” I mutter, rubbing my hand over my face.

  “I liked you better when you were a cocky motherfucker,” Fury grumbles, walking off.

  “Join the crowd,” I say with a sigh, liking myself better back then too.

  “Speak,” Diesel commands, sitting down on the sofa beside me and taking the spot Fury left. I manage to hold in a curse. The last thing I want to do is talk to Diesel about women. I think he’s pretty much sour on women in general and who in the hell could blame him?

  “I let my dick lead me where I didn’t belong,” I answer, my voice hoarse as images of Torrent smiling and laughing come to mind.

  “Women. The downfall of every fucking man since the beginning of time,” Diesel answers, his voice sounding way too tired.

  “This wasn’t her fault really,” I respond, feeling the perverse need to take up for Torrent—to defend her to one of the men who mean the most to me.

  “Why’s that?”

  “She was off limits. I knew that. I still had to try.”

  “Fuck, dude. I never figured you for the type to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “To mess around with another man’s old woman.”

  “She’s not. Not really. Fuck, it’s one of those gray areas.”

  “Gray areas?” The asshole laughs at me, and I can’t say as I blame him.

  “She wasn’t really married.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Damn it. I’m serious. She wasn’t married, or hell even claimed—not really.” I rub my hand over my face, scratching my jaw. “At least not to a real person,” I mutter.

  “Say what?”

  “I said, she wasn’t married to a real person. Torrent… she’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “What is she? Christ, is she one of those people who marry Barbie dolls?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask Diesel, wondering if he’s drunk. I didn’t smell it on him that bad, but I’m kind of hammered myself, so who knows.

  “She is… well she was… pledged, kind of…”

  “Pledged? Did we go back in time to poodle skirts and fucking promise rings? What in the hell does pledged mean?”

  “She’s a nun.”

  “Get out of town,” he says, his voice full of disbelief.

  “Let it go,” I growl.<
br />
  “Shit man, you aim high, don’t you?”

  “Fuck you,” I mumble.

  “You got to get her out of your head.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” I answer, holding up my liquor bottle and shaking it at him.

  “What if I send you on an errand?”

  “Why?”

  “Skull is calling in another marker. Wants us to check on his boy.”

  “What did Sunshine do now?”

  “You willing to go see him?” Diesel asks and I frown. If I leave, there’s no chance of seeing Torrent again, but hell, there’s no sign of her and even if I did… she’s not mine.

  She’s never going to be mine.

  If the last month has made anything clear, it’s that.

  “Yeah. Screw it. I’ll head out in the morning.”

  Torrent

  I look around the small room, for the one hundredth millionth time. Nothing has changed. It’s still nothing but a 4’ x 6’ box—if that. The floor I’m sitting on is rough lumber. I try not to move a lot, because if I do so I’ve learned I get splinters and in places I truly don’t want them. There’s a little light filtering in from the top of the box. It’s coming in through the hole between the jagged wooden planks.

  I moan as I move, my body sore from staying in basically the same position for a month and other things. When I first came to, after being unconscious, I panicked. Anyone would have, but it was worse for me because I’m afraid of small enclosed places. So when I say I panicked, I mean I freaked-the-fuck-out. So much so that they opened the top of my “crate” and when I lunged at them, they beat me back down—first with fists and then with a crowbar. I’m pretty sure I have a broken arm. I know my eye is swollen shut and infected—if the burning sensation I feel is anything to go by. It hurts to breathe so I’m not entirely sure what shape my ribs are in.