Luck of the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 2)

“Let’s go,” the club treasurer snaps as he comes to a stop at the front counter.

“My shift isn’t over.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Boston’s eyes narrow when Owen takes a step closer to me. “Your brother will lose his shit if he finds out you’ve been gone all day without telling anyone.”

“I think you’ll be in more trouble than me,” I challenge.

Boston’s face pales slightly. He knows he’s supposed to keep an eye on Zoe and me. He hates babysitting, but he does the job to the best of his ability.

“Molly?”

The concern in Owen’s voice pulls my eyes from the stubborn club member to my new boss.

“Is there a problem?”

Boston snorts, knowing a man like Owen wouldn’t be a challenge for him at all.

“Everything is fine,” I assure him before turning a glare in Boston’s direction. “I get off in two hours.”

Owen moves closer, his warmth and the intoxicating scent of his cologne seem to wrap all the way around me. Boston tenses so hard his knuckles pop on the counter.

“You know I have to tell Briar about this,” he warns.

“Please do.” My pulse races with the challenge. “I’m doing exactly what he told me to do.”

“Turn your phone back on. Answer the fucker when I call,” he snaps before turning around and leaving.

Owen doesn’t step away from me until the roar of Boston’s Harley fades into nothing.

“I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to explain what just happened,” my boss says before he disappears into the back of the office.

I stiffen my back, facing the front with a fake smile on my face when the door chimes again.

“Mrs. Crumpton,” I greet. “Rocco did an amazing job today, but I imagine he’ll be ecstatic to see you.”

I carry on for the next couple of hours, wishing time would slow down so I can postpone the hell I’m going to catch when I get home.Chapter 8Briar

“Did you sleep?” Lynch asks as we walk down a long hallway to meet Luis.

“Not a fucking wink,” I mutter.

“Me either,” Chains adds with a wicked grin. “Those bitches drained me dry. My nuts are shriveled this morning.”

For good measure, he cups his junk over his jeans with a sated smile.

“Glad you had a good time,” Lynch says, “but, I need your eyes open for any trouble in this meeting.”

“Not like we can do a fucking thing about it,” TJ murmurs as he joins us. “They have semi-automatic rifles. We don’t have shit.”

With curious eyes and heightened senses, we enter the room. It’s structured exactly the way I would expect a corporate office in downtown New York City to look, which is surprising since we’re in the belly of a cartel den. The long mahogany table takes up a massive section of the room. The leather office chairs surrounding it each have tablets for note-taking and sweating pitchers of water and matching heavy crystal glasses situated in front of them.

“Seriously?” TJ snaps as he walks to the far end of the table and plops unceremoniously in one of the leather chairs.

Surprisingly, I didn’t see him touch a single woman last night, but he probably can’t get his dick hard without piercing their skin with his knife. Since they confiscated that upon entry yesterday, he’s been acting like a petulant child.

“Please,” Luis says as he enters from a door camouflaged as part of the wall. “Have a seat. Let’s discuss some business.”

We were instructed that four of our guys were allowed to attend the meeting, and as we settle in the room, I notice there are three other men standing behind Luis as he settles at the head of the table. Of course, they’re heavily armed while we sit with no recourse for self-defense if shit goes sideways.

“Nice room,” Lynch says to break the ice after we all settle, and no one speaks.

“Not what you expected?”

“Honestly?” Lynch sounds surer of himself than I know he feels. “Not really.”

Luis smiles, the delight meeting his eyes for the first time since we met in person yesterday. “The days of living like thugs and barbarians are over. My plan for the business is structured, and with an ally like the Ravens Ruin MC we can both become very rich men.”

“I’m already a rich man,” Lynch assures him.

“There’s no such thing as having too much money, Mr. Quintal,” Luis counters.

“Business partners bring headaches, Mr. Jiménez.”

“Yet, they are an essential part of being successful. Where are you currently getting your cocaine?”

“Don’t insult me by asking questions you already know the answer to.”

I barely manage to keep the smile off my face. If this fucker thought we were going to come in here and roll over at his commands, he was sorely mistaken.

Rather than being pissed, he looks almost proud at my president’s gall to stand up to him.

“Fair enough,” Jiménez concedes. “What’s the difference between my coke and Mexican cartel coke? Other than quality?”