Beast (MC Fables #1)

Chapter 59

CHAPTER 59

B ELLE

While the mayor thinks I am sleeping, I slip from the bedroom to do what I came here for.

Somewhere in this over-the-top mansion is the proof the Knights need to show the townspeople what Boney is really like.

I creep through the hallway and down the stairs, keeping an eye out for Millie or any other staff, and start looking for where the greedy fucker has stashed the proof I need.

As quietly as possible, I check closed doors. And luckily for me, I find his den on the third attempt. It’s a massive room with a high ceiling and tall patio doors at the far end of the room behind the massive desk.

I slip inside and quietly close the door behind me. The room shimmers with privilege and greed.

On the right-hand side of the room is a small bar area where bottles of top-shelf liquor gleam on glass shelves. To the left is a large fireplace with a ginormous mirror sitting above the mantle.

But it’s what is sitting beside the desk that grabs my attention. A massive model of the town of Saint Boniface, specifically the land where the Knights clubhouse sits. Except on this model the clubhouse is gone and in its place are rows and rows of condominiums. There is no green space. No picnic areas for families to grill on summer nights, or kids to play. There’s no playground. No swimming pool. Just a massive gated community for rich people.

I stare at it, hating what I see.

Mayor Boney is selling the green space idea to the townspeople for election votes, but in reality he wants his greedy little hands on it so he can turn it into a real estate gold mine.

Exactly what Beast said he was doing.

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

I look at the name on plastic gates leading into the village of condominiums. Vista Paradise.

I screw my nose up at the name.

I reach for my phone in my jeans so I can take photos as proof of Boney’s true plans for the clubhouse land. My land. But the sudden rumbling of an approaching motorcycle draws my attention outside before I can take any photos. I quickly move across the room to the patio doors and pull aside the curtains where I can see onto the driveway. A lone man on a motorcycle pulls up to the front door and climbs off.

At first I think it’s Beast, and I hope it isn’t because this could go wrong if it is.

But when he gets closer, I can see it isn’t him. He’s nowhere near as big. Nowhere near as intimidating.

Wait. He’s wearing an Unhinged Psychos cut.

My already hammering heartbeat skyrockets as I watch Boney walk outside to greet him. Although greet is a generous word. He’s not pleased with the biker showing up.

My mind races, but I don’t have time to process it because Boney ushers him into the house and every instinct inside me tells me to hide.

I step back and let the curtain fall back into place and frantically scan the room for a place to hide, but there is none. And there are no doors leading off the room, only the one leading out into the hallway.

Fuck.

Hearing the biker and the mayor out in the hallway, I quickly hide under the bar just as the door to the den opens.

My heart racing, I put my hand over my mouth so they can’t hear me breathing.

My heart racing, I pull out my phone and start recording. I don’t know what this visit from an Unhinged Psycho is about. But my instincts tell me to record it.

“I told you not to come here,” Boney says as he and the biker walk into the den and the door closes behind him.

“Yeah, well things have changed. Gunner is dead and Gaston was set on fire by that fucking Beast.”

“I heard about Gaston. Is Beast responsible for Gunner too?”

“No. That was Gaston. He decided he wanted to wear the president’s patch. He challenged Gunner. Told him he would be a better leader. He had some of my club brothers convinced too. Not me though. That lunatic was a different kind of crazy.”

“What happened?” Boney sounds irritated.

“He killed Gunner. Dumped him in the ocean.”

“I should’ve known better than to go into business with the Unhinged Psychos,” Boney says, his voice growing closer as he walks toward the bar. “I must’ve had rocks in my fucking skull.”

My heart leaps into my throat when his legs appear in front of me and he starts to fix himself a drink. I hold my breath, my pulse racing. I don’t know what he’ll do if he catches me here.

“Things have worked out well,” the biker says.

“You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you?” Boney snaps, untwisting the top from a bottle and pouring alcohol into a glass. “I gave you the perfect plan. Sell inferior product using the Knight’s logo and deal it in town. Even funded the entire operation. Thought we could all make a profit while destroying the Knights’ reputation and running them out of town. But now this in-house fighting is going to derail the whole thing.”

Boney takes a long sip of his drink. He drains the glass. Then pours another.

Jesus, is he going to stand there the entire time?

“The club is strong,” the biker declares.

“You just had a goddamn coup and you’re telling me the club is strong? You don’t even have a goddamn president anymore. One is fish food and the other’s burnt to a crisp.”

“The damage is done to the Knights. Just like you planned. Using their logo on the bad dope has made people wary of buying their product. Turned the town against them.”

Boney thinks for a minute. Then says, “I suppose since you’re here, you’re the new leader?”

“I’m the acting president. I was vice president to Gunner?—”

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about your resume. What I want is for you to listen to me and listen to me good. I want you to dismantle operations.”

“That will take at least a week.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Just do it.”

“But what about the Knights?”

“Like you said, the damage is already done.”

“But enough to get them run out of town?”

Boney chuckles. And it’s cold and smug. “I don’t need to run them out of town. Because I have a new opportunity to explore.”

I assume I’m the new opportunity.

“Which is?” The biker sounds confused.

“You don’t need to know. You just need to do what I told you to do. Dismantle operations.” Boney moves away from the bar. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Breathing a sigh of relief when they both leave the room, I take a moment to calm my racing heart.

That was close. If Boney had looked down, he would’ve seen me.

I run my hands down my face.

I must be crazy doing this.

Now that they’ve gone, and with the proof I need to bring down the mayor, I decide to escape through the patio doors. I crawl out from under the bar, my legs cramped and shaky as I make my way over to them. But when I try them, they’re locked.

Fuck.

I’m trapped.

I’m going to have to go out the front door.

That means sneaking out of here and across the foyer to the front door, while praying no one sees me.

Quickly shoving my phone back into my jeans, I carefully open the door and step into the hallway, careful to close the door just as quietly. But the moment I turn around, I walk straight into Millie the maid.

Double fuck.

“There you are,” she says, an accusatory edge to her voice. “I went looking for you in your room. What are you doing?”

I do my best to hide my panic and force a smile. “This house is so big. I thought that was the dining room.”

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “That’s Mr. Boney’s private den. No one is allowed in there. Not even staff.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” I joke.

But Millie doesn’t smile. “The dining room is down this way. Follow me. Dinner is ready, and the mayor is already waiting.”

Dinner is a nightmare.

It’s just the mayor and I sitting at a big table in the formal dining room. It’s a large room, but sitting next to him at the end of the table feels too intimate.

Especially with a lit candle burning between us.

To make matters worse, I know I didn’t get any photos of the town model in his den. Not that I need them. The recording of him and the biker should be enough to take him down.

Yet, what he wants to do with the land the clubhouse sits on feels more personal, and I want proof to show everyone how he lied about it.

But going back in there now would be suicide. If he catches me, he’d probably take my phone off me and destroy the recording.

I have to be sensible about this.

Although, it’s hard when I am right in the thick of it. Sitting with the devil at the table while trying not to look like I have something to hide.

I sit up straighter.

I can do this.

For the club.

His staff serve the main course and pour the wine, and Boney instructs them to leave us.

This feels more like a date than just dinner.

Is he really going to try and seduce me into selling him my land?

Ugh, he’s so gross. So greedy and smug.

He starts with small talk. Then makes his intentions clear when he starts to run a finger along my arm as it rests on the table.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Belle. I’d very much like to get to know you some more.”

He takes a sip of his wine but his eyes remain on me, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.

Because I know what that glint in his eye means. I know why his voice is thick.

I want to yell at him to stop touching me and the words tingle on the edge of my tongue. So I take a gulp of wine to push them down.

I have to go along with this.

For the meantime.

Until I can get out of here.

His finger stops on the top of my hand and draws circles over the skin while he looks at me with suggestive eyes I’m sure he thinks are sexy.

Let’s be clear. It’s not.

Clearing my throat, I reach for the wine bottle to pour another glass, but knock it over, sending a pool of red wine spreading across the pristine tablecloth.

Which ends the hand touching.

“Damn, I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing the napkin and dabbing at the red stain. “Oh look, it’s all over me too.”

Boney does his best not to look annoyed. “I’ll have Millie fetch you some soda water.”

“There’s no need to disturb her. I’ll race to the bathroom and run it under the faucet.”

“No, let me call her, it’s her job?—”

I ignore him and stand so quickly I knock the table, and the glasses shake. “I won’t be a moment.”

Not waiting for a response, I get the fuck out of here.

Despite wanting to get away from Boney while I can, I don’t turn left to run out the front door. Instead, I turn right and slip undetected into his den again.

Because like I said, that vile plastic model of the condos on the clubhouse land is a personal insult to me and the club. And I want the world to know what a lying asshole Boney is. Not to mention, a cold-hearted drug lord.

Once inside the den, I pull out my phone and start taking photos, including photos of the room so there is no doubt the model was hidden inside the mayor’s house.

Because when these photos are leaked to the press and appear in Monday’s paper and destroy Boney’s political campaign, I don’t doubt he’ll try to weasel his way out of it and claim he knows nothing about it.

But as I take pictures of it I grow angrier and angrier about it. About the lies. About him trying to destroy the club I love.

About him trying to take my goddamn home from me.

And let’s not get started with his wandering hands at the dinner table.

My inner old lady wakes up and I grab a golf club from the golf bag sitting beside the patio door and start smashing into the model, pulverizing it until it is nothing but a pile of broken plastic.

But it’s not enough. I need to completely destroy it.

I shift my gaze to the fireplace.

There’s a bottle of lighter fluid and a set of matches on the mantle.

It’s stone cold rage I feel when I splash the lighter fluid onto the model. And it’s my inner old lady coming to life when I empty the bottle.

But before I can set fire to it, the door bursts open and Mayor Boney appears in the doorway, red faced and furious when he sees what I have done to his precious model.

“You fucking bitch,” he roars.

I strike the match. “And you’re a fucking liar.”

Before he can move, I drop the match onto the plastic model marinating in lighter fluid, and with a whoosh it lights up like a bonfire.

“No!” Mayor Boney yells from across the room.

He yells for his bodyguard and screams for a fire extinguisher.

“Get her,” he yells when his security men come running.

But I’m already attacking the patio door with a golf club, and when it shatters, I flee across his immaculate lawn and disappear into the night.

I get a mile down the road when I hear the sound of approaching sirens. But coming toward me in the opposite direction is the deep rumbling of a black and chrome Harley Davidson.

It swerves off the road and pulls to a stop in front of me.

“What the fucking hell happened?” Beast asks, climbing off his bike and stalking toward me. “Are you okay? What the fuck did that asshole do to you?”

With two fingers, he tilts my chin so he can inspect my face, looking for signs I’ve been harmed.

“I’m okay, he didn’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure?”

I put my hand on his chest and feel the rapid pounding of his heart through his cut. “Beast, I’m fine.”

“You smell like lighter fluid and smoke.” His gaze sweeps over me, all warm and protective. “What did you do?”

I look into my husband’s eyes. “I told him to stop messing with my club.”