Delilah

 

“Keep your goddamn mouth closed! I mean it. And don’t you dare start squawking – because that’s the quickest way there is to get yourself killed. You got me?”

 

Race has now given me that warning at least three times in the hour-long trip to the Bad Devils’ headquarters. I’m sure it’s meant to freak me out or keep me in line or something, but honest to God, all it’s made me is more curious. I grew up with – or around – a lot of these guys. Even though my mama wanted to keep me away from club members, she couldn’t keep me away from the guys I went to school with, or their older brothers and dads. She couldn’t keep me away from friends who became club bitches and brides – especially Ariel, who is my key to the Bad Devils’ world.

 

How different could they be in the safety of their headquarters versus them out in public at the Pipeline? But just as I convince myself that Race is wrong and that it couldn’t possibly be as bad as he describes, we pull into the chain link fence parking lot of their headquarters. I’ve gone past this building at least a hundred times in my life. I’ve seen the shattered glass windows and the haggard men and more than a few women coming in and out of the place. But that was in daylight – when I could assume that the place was some makeshift shelter.

 

Seeing it at night is a totally new experience. The empty, tattered building has sprung to life. Rockabilly music blares from a set of crackling speakers. Lights flicker from headlights and through the windows. Women are dressed in club colors, if you could call it dressed, and parade by as the few men lingering outside attempt to keep their damn tongues in their mouths. Arms reach toward them eagerly, some getting an armful for their efforts.

 

I let Race lead the way, sticking close behind him as we dart through the dark shadows not touched by the bright spotlight of the few working parking lot lights. The men who we pass smiled and leered. It is obvious what they think is happening between the two of us. But as I realize this, I remember something Ariel told me a long time ago – a story about a friend of a friend who was brought to the headquarters late at night just like me. She came in with a man and was passed around by at least ten. Who knows if it was against her will or not. Scanning the walkers in their skin-tight dresses and sky-high heels, I could see the girl from the story giving in fast to this kind of life.

 

Race opens the doors, and I’m instantly hit by an explosion of sound, lights, and smells. I’m unprepared for it, really. What’s happening outside is only a tenth of the party inside. It’s almost like the entire club’s here tonight. The sparse warehouse’s ground floor is bouncing with men moving boxes of who-knows-what from an open garage door. Another smaller group huddles around a whiteboard near an open office. They openly argue about shifts and territory like hyenas over prey.

 

The ones not working lounge around a circular bar at the center of the room. The few couches I can see are only visible through the legs and bodies of the men surrounding them. I get glimpses of girls draped over men’s laps. Their legs dangle over the side while the front half of them shoot up strips of white powder placed on a small table. When they’ve got their fill, their bodies shoot up straight on the man’s lap. One woman is pulled down, out of view as she laughs wildly. The sound of the music eventually covers the sound.

 

“Race? What the fuck is going on here?” a deep male voice booms from across the room.

 

I spin on my heels to the man standing behind me. Unlike most of these guys, I don’t recognize him. He’s bald with black tribal tattoos winding up and down his head and neck, around to his throat and chest. He stands nearly a foot over the rest of the room almost like some kind of thick, stalking giant. His low, vibrating voice makes heads turn straight on us. Suddenly, I’m quick to Race’s side.

 

“Some shit’s gone down, Nico, and I think it’s club-related.” Race leans in towards the man as he adds in a quieter voice, “Look, man, can we talk in the office?”

 

There’s no question that both of their eyes dart towards me, then back at the rest of the crowd. The whole room buzzes with something that I can’t suss out, but just then, it feels as if I’m on the menu.

 

Nico seems to toss the idea around in his mind. His jaw juts from side to side before he glances at his subjects. Finally, he outstretches his long, meaty arms in a grand gesture as he announces, “You know my rule here, Race. We don’t keep secrets in this club. Not like the Bad Devils in Colorado. If something happened that needs our attention, everyone’s gonna hear about it that wants to hear about it.”

 

A small circle begins to form around us, and I’m backed straight into Race’s side. Even the friendly faces I see, like Ariel’s boyfriend, Seb, look like menacing figures when they’re pushed together like this.

 

Race doesn’t take too kindly to making my business public. His body tenses up so that his shoulders are nearly at his ears. He grits his teeth as he explains, “You were right about the clubs in this area being on alert. But they’re not watching us, Nico. They’re watching this girl, Delilah. I caught two of them staking her out one morning. They had eyes on her friend, Ariel Gordon, as well. Two tried to grab her, but I… I stopped them.”

 

“You stopped them?” he asks Race, his eyebrow raised. I could practically feel the landmines Race would have to expertly step over.

 

“Yeah. I caught one with a knife to the leg, and that guy caught his friend as he was going down. They didn’t see me though – at least I know they didn’t get a chance to recognize who I was. And when I heard them talking about their stakeout, they didn’t mention my name or my position.”

 

“And you didn’t think I should know that you fucking took down a rider from another club? You didn’t think backup would have been protocol? And for what? Why the fuck would you risk yourself and our territory? For this ho-bag here?”

 

Race seethes as Nico steps to him, placing a finger on his chest. There’s history between these two men – that much is obvious. But even as Race looks as if he’s about to lose his damn mind, he somehow keeps it together and, instead, takes every word of his admonishment. He takes a deep breath before, incredibly, agreeing with the Nico.

 

“Yeah, I know, Pres,” he says, looking down humbly. “I got it. I should have fucking clued you in, but I didn’t have time. And when it was over, it was over. I figured it was a one-time thing, but it wasn’t.”

 

Nico’s voice raises slightly, “Riders? You saw more riders after her?”

 

“No. They broke into her house. Didn’t take anything though. It’s pretty clear they were after her or at least sending her a message. They left a note saying that they’d be back. Didn’t even give a fuck that she would know they were coming again. It has to be a pretty big player if they’re not worried about the cops being called in.”

 

“Well, if they’re not after us, then what the hell does that have to do with the Bad Devils? Why the fuck did you bring this bitch here?” Nico glances over towards me, obviously scanning me for my goods. I’m used to a man’s cold gaze, but this feels like the worst kind of violation. If I could stitch myself into some oversized sweater, I would.

 

“Because her home is in our territory, and there is a club that’s willing to break our fucking boundary agreement to get to her! If they think they can just walk in and take her without consulting with us or giving us something in return—”

 

“I don’t give a fuck what they do if it’s not messing with our territory, Race. And unless I’m mistaken, she’s not our property. Unless she’s willing to put in some work…” I have an immediate urge to shout this son of a bitch down and tell him to fuck off or something similarly scathing, but Race’s quick glance to my side tells me that I know better than correct him.

 

“You mean to tell me that you’re okay with them riding in our districts? Patrolling our streets? And don’t forget that they’ve got eyes on our property. Him – this guy.” He reaches across the crowd towards Seb and pulls him into the center next to me. I can practically feel the large, bearded man shake in his boots as Race speaks, “He owns Ariel Gordon. She is his property. Did you know that this club was outside her house? Following her around town?”

 

“No.” Seb shakes, but mostly from fear. “I didn’t know that, sir. I don’t think she would know either.”

 

Race pats him on the back as he tells him, “You need to protect what’s yours. We at least need to figure out what the fuck they want from Ariel and this girl. Do you know anything about it? Any reason why Ariel would be involved?”

 

“I got no clue. Ariel’s been a true Bad Bastard bitch. She does what the hell she’s told to do. She helps out around the bar when we are shorthanded. She comes on the rides when the girls are invited. She got nothing to do with another club.” Seb practically reassures himself of this as he lists his reasons why. But he’s right. Ariel’s loyal. I can’t imagine her doing anything to jeopardize Seb or her place in the club. I may not understand it, but I can respect it.

 

“And do you know this girl?” Race asks, pointing in my direction. “Have you seen her before?”

 

“Yeah. Delilah. She’s Ariel’s best friend, and she’s at the Pipeline often. Her daddy was a Bastard before he disappeared.”

 

“Is that right?” Nico asks, the room somehow more silent. “Are you a legacy?”

 

It’s finally my turn to speak, but somehow the words have completely escaped me. I struggle through my answer with a trembling and hoarse voice: “I don’t know, sir. My daddy wasn’t around when I was born. He took off, or something happened to him. No one knows. But my mama’s always lived in Bad Devils’ territory, and she knows quite a few of the retired riders.”

 

“And you have no fucking clue why they’re after you? You didn’t fuck around with one of the boys and get yourself in trouble?”

 

“No.” I cough out. I really wish they’d stop accusing me of being some MC slut. “The last MC rider I was with was a Bad Bastard, and that was a year or so ago.”

 

Race shoots me a look that’s completely unreadable. Disgust, maybe? Curious? Who the hell knows, but he returns to the topic at hand by pressing his president to listen to him. “The boys here know her. She frequents the Pipeline Bar, and she is close friends with a claimed club woman. She needs our protection.”

 

“She doesn’t need shit from us. If the club wants her, they can have her. It keeps us at peace and makes up for you taking down their riders.” Nico turns to walk back to the office. The crowd parts in his wake.

 

It’s like I’m not even in the room. Throw me to the wolves, why don’t you? But Race doesn’t seem content with giving up just yet. He shouts, “There’s not gonna be peace if they get her. They’ll come for other women next, and then it will be our territories and our business dealings. You know that this is how the shit started in Denver with the Coyotes. They took that boy first and then came for the club next. I’m not gonna stand here and let it happen again, Nico!”

 

The entire room goes silent, and I only have one thought – the same one that I can feel radiating off of every other member of the club in the room: Oh, shit.

 

It’s almost like Race launched a missile at Nico. The giant stops in his tracks and then skids backward. His followers barely have time to react except to move back three or four steps. Even I take cover behind Seb who still cowers next to Race. I keep one eye trained on Race as he stands his ground.

 

“What did you fucking say? Did you just—”

 

“Call you out? Yeah. I called you out. You’re a damn good president, Nico. You know I’d follow you to the fucking end of the world. But for Christ’s sake, you can’t see the red flags here? You made mistakes in Denver. So did I. One of mine was not telling you when I thought you were missing shit. And you’re fucking missing it now! This girl is the key, and if we let her go and get captured, who the hell knows what that club will come back for next!”

 

A few of the men bravely nod in agreement. I’m not sure for whose benefit – mine or Race’s. But Nico seems partially moved at the show. He stammers slightly as he orders, “You, Race, in my office. We’ll talk out what to do there.”

 

I’m left alone as Race follows him back. He leaves me only with a small nod that I am sure is him telling me to stay the hell where I am and not try to run. With my legs feeling like Jell-O and my only getaway locked in the president’s office, I sincerely doubt I could try anything if I could.

 

Luckily for me, Seb stays by my side. Though he doesn’t look my way, he asks quietly under his breath, “Did you know about Ariel being followed?”

 

“No. I promise you, Seb. I had no freaking idea. If I did, I would have told you or her. I don’t know who is looking for me or what they want.”

 

“Good,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

 

“What are they talking about?” I ask absentmindedly.

 

“What to do with you, I suppose. Even if Nico orders Race to bring you home, that’s not the end of it. Now that the club knows, Nico has to act. Race was smart in letting him bring it out in the open – making it his idea for the club to hear the details. We’re on his side now. The boys have been itching for war since the last turnover.”

 

“War? But why over me?”

 

“It doesn’t have to be over you, but it would make more sense if you were part of the club.”

 

“No,” I reply, understanding immediately what he meant. There were only a few ways a lady could become a Bad Devils. The first was working for them as a walker. Sometimes, an MC will take on a professional woman as the club’s doctor or lawyer, but that’s rare when there are plenty of men to do the job. The second way was to be born into the fold. Legacies were rare. Most girls didn’t want to follow their deadbeat dads into the life, especially when they had no role and weren’t paid.

 

That left one other way, and the thought of it left my stomach aching to get the fuck out of this place. My eyes quickly dart over the headquarters, looking for a way out, but I’m cornered in. I can’t run. I couldn’t even hide. I’m stuck waiting to hear if my fate is to be claimed by Race or Nico.

 

The only claimed woman I know to speak of it is Ariel, and I remember the night it happened for her. Much like me, she was brought into headquarters and given an initiation. How she described it, her large eyes shying away from the details… I know I can’t handle that.

 

My mouth goes dry as I think back to her words: “It was awful, but I did what I had to do to be with Seb…”

 

I reach for Seb, but he’s gone, back to the bar. My arms grab for the nothingness, but they somehow land right on Race’s jacket. He pulls me in towards him and forces me to walk step by step with him towards the office.

 

“Race, I am not... I cannot… You can’t do this…”

 

The asshole’s actually smiling. Of course he would be. Nico moves out of the doorway as we step in. The smell of cigarettes and cologne fills my nostrils. I reach for the bottle of vodka sitting on the desk, but Race pushes it out of my hand.

 

“Not tonight. If the club is going to believe that I’m taking claim on you, you have to be sober and willing.”

 

“I’m not though,” I protest.

 

“There’s no other way, Delilah – not if you want protection from the Bad Devils. You need to become mine.”

 

I step backward from the man in the shadows. His hand reaches behind him, grabbing the doorknob. In one quick click of the lock, I’m trapped. There’s no way out of this. No turning back.