Dark Temptation (Dark Saints MC Book 2)(3)

The light that had been streaming in was now blotted out. The dark frame of a giant set of shoulders filled the space.

The sun behind the windows made it impossible to make out a face, but the rest was undeniable.

A beast of a man, in worn out leather, and worse off boots, took three big strides forward. For a moment he looked like was headed straight for me.

As he got closer I could see rough hands, a massive chest, and a beard that made him look part grizzly bear, part professional wrestler, but in the end, clearly, all biker.

When he moved, the air seemed to get out of his way. In its place, electricity crackled. I wasn’t one to ogle the opposite sex, but I realized I was staring at him. I had zero chill, from the second his frame filled the doorway. I was sure he was headed for me. I was the only one in a skirt in the place.

I got a whiff of leather and fresh air from him. They were good smells, real smells. It wasn’t the oppressive body spray that choked you at every college or sports bar in the state.

Behind him was another man, dressed similarly. One, two, Dark Saints at the door?

“Woodrow, set us up,” the first man growled at the bartender and Woodrow got to work pouring three shots of Whiskey.

The men were not headed straight for me after all; they were headed straight for a booth just past me.





2





Benz



“There they are,” I said and Kade nodded.

We’d found just them right where we expected.

When I was out on any run for The Saints, having Kade by my side was the way I wanted it. His history in Port Az was longer than mine and that was saying something. He knew every back road. He knew the trails. He knew the names of things before they’d gotten named.

In a GPS world, it was fucking useful as hell to know another way around like Kade always did.

He said he was part Comanche. But I knew he was all Dark Saint, and so was I.

“Yep, let’s go.”

Two fucking dirt bags were riding out of our town. They had no business being anywhere near Port Azrael.

Kade and I would be providing an escort out of town and sending a message.

They were stopped at County Road 96 and Old Split Rail Highway.

They heard our bikes first, of course, but didn’t have time to react. We’d penned them in.

“Get the fuck out of our way,” said the bigger of the two.

“We won’t be doing that.” Kade and I got off our rides and moved slowly toward them.

Their patches said ‘Skillex’ and ‘Taro’. But that was it. I suspected that they were Hawks, but they were at least smart enough not to make that known.

They were in our town, with some sort of MC, and they were going to learn a lesson about that.

Skillex made a poor choice and put a hand inside his vest.

Fuckers were both probably carrying. I reached out before he could draw and punched him hard enough in the face that he went flying off his bike.

I heard the bike crash to the ground as I closed in on Skillex, who was now trying like hell to figure out what to do next. He kicked at me.

Kade was handling the one named Taro behind me. I knew that without looking.

That’s how it was. I didn’t have to worry that Taro was going to put a bullet in me, because Kade had it handled.

I let Skillex stand up. It wasn’t any fun punching him if he lay there like a baby.

“Come on, you Mother Fucker.” The idiot took a swing at me. I tried not to laugh.

“Who you ride with? You probies? Cause you fight like fucking infants. I wouldn’t want my club to know if I were you.” I stepped forward, and before Skillex could try yet another stupid swing or kick, I grabbed a chunk of his shirt and flesh. I drew him in close to my face. He smelled like cigarettes and fear.

Just as it was supposed to be.

“You two are alive for one reason.”

Kade had relieved Taro of his piece and was now pointing it at the dude’s temple. Taro looked at me with hate in his eyes.

Hate and fear. Fine and dandy. That’s what Kade and I delivered on this day.

“Fuck you, Benz,” Taro said.

“You sure we shouldn’t just kill them?” Kade said. He knew, and I knew, our orders from The Saints.

It had been clear at Church that we were here to send a message and not make a mess.

“You head back to Abilene and tell your crew, I’m guessing you’re Devil’s Hawks, you have that smell. You tell them to stay the fuck out of Port Az.”

“We sure will tell him something,” Skillex said.

“Is that some sort of threat?”

“Port Az isn’t yours anymore, exclusive,” Skillex added.

“Oh, really?”

I shoved the fucker down to the pavement and put a boot to the back of his head. I heard a crunch. I was pretty sure hitting the pavement had broken the already ugly Skillex’s nose.

I crouched down. Skillex was getting the picture.

I didn’t have to do a damn thing to keep him on the ground now. He lay there and Kade had Taro nice and quiet too.

“Fine. We’re going,” Taro said.

“I’ll be keeping this.” Kade put the piece in his jacket.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Taro said, but he got back on his bike.

“Get up,” I said to Skillex.