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“We’ll be safe,” I promised. “You said that the cops are in on this. We can’t go to the police.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Then we need help from the Reaper’s Vale MC.”
“Why would they help? Why do they want that package anyway?”
I didn’t blame her for being suspicious.
“It’s personal for them too, Amelia. One of the bikers lost his sister to the cult.”
“Oh, shit,” she cursed. “Do you really believe they’ll help us? That they can keep Josie safe?”
“I do,” I replied with conviction.
Devil dipped his chin in agreement.
“Alright,” she agreed. “I trust you.”
“We’ll come to the bar in a few hours. Pack a bag for you and Josie, okay? We might be here for a while.”
“Alright. You stay safe, Henny. We’ll be waiting.”
“Close up the bar and take the night off. Don’t let anyone in until we arrive. Promise me.”
“I won’t. I promise.” She sniffled, and I heard a noise that sounded like she had blown her nose into a tissue. “Henny?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Despite her choices, I knew she told the truth.
“Love you too,” I replied, choking on the words as she ended the call.
Devil took the phone and dropped it on the floor, pulling me into his chest. Warmth wrapped me in a security blanket. Even with my emotions hovering at the surface and the past threatening to break free, I felt protected and oddly comforted by his presence. His hand brushed up and down my spine as my head lowered and rested in the hollow of his neck.
“We’ll protect all three of you,” he promised. “Vengeance is fucking coming. They’ll bleed for what they’ve done. Every last one of them.”
Who would have thought I’d find help from a group of biker outlaws led by the devil? What a paradox.
I heard somewhere once that the devil was seductively deceptive, made all the more enticing because of his sinfully handsome face and chiseled physique. He lured you in with a rich baritone and hypnotic smile and then snatched your soulas he fucked you, coaxing an orgasm as he sealed your fate, returning to Hell to gloat over his prize.
Whoever spread that rumor got it all wrong.
The devil didn’t live in Hell.
He rode a Harley, wore black leather, and ruled a motorcycle club. A king who presided over a brotherhood of sinners on iron beasts. The president of the Reaper’s Vale MC.
A man who used his power to bring retribution to the fallen. The grim reaper wielding his scythe. A lord of death passing judgment on those who deserved it.
I couldn’t wait for the reaping.
Chapter 8
“Ineed you to do something for me,” Devil announced, cradling the side of my face as I lifted my head from his shoulder. “Go back to your room and stay there. We’ve got shit to sort out before we leave and meet up with Amelia.”
“Okay.” I didn’t like the idea of remaining a prisoner, and he sensed it.
