The Devil’s Viking (The Road Devils MC #3)

Chapter Seven

Despite being exhausted from two days of no sleep, Viking just couldn’t seem to go home. After talking to Arrow and Saint over at the tattoo parlour, he headed down to one of the crash rooms at the back of Satan’s and slept for about two hours, then got up and went back to the bar again. He felt like he had to be here – in the same building that the woman was in – but he couldn’t figure out why he had to be close.

It wasn’t that he was worried that she’d escape somehow. Ex-bouncer and -bodyguard Holt was upstairs watching her door right now, so she wouldn’t be able to set one toe out of her room without two-hundred-plus pounds of pure muscle standing between her and the top of the stairs… and then she’d have to get through the massive bar to the front door. The tiny little thing didn’t have a prayer, unless she could teleport.

Viking sat at the bar and Cole came over to him, his dark eyes sparkling with their usual teasing good humor.

“The wanderer returns,” Cole said. “You ready for a drink, man?”

“Ummm.” Viking glanced at the clock on his cell phone. “ Jesus . Is it really only three o’clock in the goddamn afternoon? From the state of these old bones, it feels like it should be midnight.”

“Ah, yes,” Cole pronounced. “The joys of screwing up your body’s time clock by staying up all night doing bad, criminal shit. I remember it well. Also , as the only other forty-five-plus Road Devils guy running around this joint, I sympathize with the ‘old’ part of ‘old bones’.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Though the twins will be forty-five in six months, won’t they?”

“Yep, and Silver’s only two years behind them. Maybe we should start an Oldies Club. I can print off membership cards with big type.”

“Ha!” Viking huffed out a genuine laugh; Cole always made him feel better. “I’m in.”

“So? Drink?”

“Yeah, what the hell. Whisky please.”

“Coming right up, old man. Anything to eat?”

“Not right now.” Viking tried to sound casual as he formulated his next question. “Does Wolf know anything more about our guest upstairs?”

“Not one damn thing.” Expertly, Cole poured a shot of JD, paused, added a second shot before Viking could protest. “She’s been in the bedroom since Zoe dropped her off there, and she hasn’t so much as poked her head out. Holt’s so bored he’s actually reading a book up there.”

“Fuck off.”

“Truth. At this rate, I think he’ll even finish it before Cain comes and takes over from him in four hours.”

“Huh.” Viking threw his drink back, then nodded when Cole lifted the bottle to pour another one. “He did tell me once that being a bodyguard is a whole lot of standing around doing not much… until the shit hits the fan and then you wish you were bored again.”

“Such is life,” Cole said. “You’re either flat-out busy or flat-out on the sofa.”

“Yep.”

Cole caught the eye of one of the waitresses, and headed over to that side of the bar to take the table order. Viking sipped his second shot – the first one had already kind of gone to his head and he chalked it up to being tired – and allowed his body to relax and his mind to wander.

And bang on cue, it wandered to the woman upstairs again… and all Viking could think about was the heart-breaking, heart-stopping expression on her beautiful face when she’d been standing there in that van in that thin nightgown, vulnerable and exposed.

It had been fear – pure, stark, unadulterated fear .

Fear of what? Fear of who? Of what she’d left behind? Or of Viking and his brothers? Both?

The thought that this woman was afraid of him rattled him far more than he could even begin to understand. He hated that she felt that way, and as he drank he tried to get to grips why he was so upset about it.

OK, sure, he was fearsome and terrifying at first glance. He knew that good and well: he was six-foot-seven, he was built like an NFL linebacker on steroids, he was heavily-tattooed and had a wild beard – but he was also a former doctor and an ex-combat medic. His whole life had been about helping people, saving them, doing his best for them.

Yes, he’d left the medical profession when he’d joined the MC and started at the tattoo parlour, and he’d done his share of illegal shit for the Road Devils, but the one thing that he’d never, ever done was hurt an innocent woman. He hadn’t hurt an innocent anyone , to be scrupulously correct; it just wasn’t in his nature.

The truth was that everything in him was saying to go and check on her. Maybe she was hurt, maybe she had frostbite on her extremities, maybe she was hiding injuries from a group of strangers who’d stuck her in a room and shut the door. She hadn’t shown any pain so far, but if there was one thing that Viking knew about people, it was that admitting an injury meant admitting weakness or vulnerability… and why would a terrified woman give a bunch of unknown men any ammunition that could possibly be used against her?

His mind made up, he finished his drink and went upstairs. He nodded at Holt.

“Hey, man,” Holt drawled, getting to his feet and setting down his book on the sofa. “Come to give me some company?”

“Nope, sorry. I was just thinking that I should check her over physically. I mean, she might be hurt but God knows none of us would have a clue. She’s not proving to be the chatty type.”

Holt ran his hand through his blond hair. “Yeah, fair enough. Zoe did ask her if she needed a doctor to look at her and she said no, but who the hell knows if that’s true.” He waved his hand at the last door on the left. “Go ahead, doc. It’s unlocked. Wolf said to only lock it at night after the bar closes, and only if we have to leave for a bathroom break.”

“Thanks.”

He knocked on the door, waited. When nobody answered he knocked again, then opened the door a crack. “Hello?” When it was still silent and still, he opened the door wider and poked his head in. “Hello?”

The woman was lying fully clothed on top of the bedspread, fast asleep. Viking paused, his expert eye running over her to see if she was breathing steadily with good lung function, if she seemed to be cradling or protecting any part of her body unconsciously, if any bruising had come up on her face or hands. He really wanted to do a proper look-over, but he doubted very much that she’d just strip off in front of him. He’d have to gain her trust first, then maybe she’d let him help her.

He was standing there, staring across the small room at her, when she suddenly opened her eyes and spotted him. Immediately, she shot off to bed to her feet, then backed up.

“Hi,” Viking said quietly, happy to see that she had zero mobility issues. “I’m Viking. How are you doing up here?”

She gazed at him and that awful, terrible fear was back.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see if you needed any medical attention.”

The fear was now being replaced with suspicion.

“I’m a trained doctor,” he told her. “I know that I don’t look like your average family doctor and I get that, but I promise it’s true, even though I don’t actually practice formally anymore. Are you hurt anywhere? I can help if you are.”

She shook her head, that amazing hair cascading down her shoulders like a midnight river.

“OK, well.” He shut the door. “Maybe I’ll just visit with you a bit? Stay here and get to know you?”

She went rock-still now, she just froze in place. Her face was now blank and emotionless, her eyes were unfocused and unblinking, and for some reason all of that freaked Viking out worse than seeing her fear.

What on earth could she possibly be thinking?

**

Iris stared at the giant closing the door, and she did so with resignation. She was surprised that it had taken this long for one of them to make his way up to her, but she’d known it was coming. They were low-life scum, so she shouldn’t be shocked when they acted like it.

When this bearded creature said that he was staying right where he was and would be getting to know her, her mind and body went straight into that state that they always did when she was called to perform the Ritual with Gideon. She just zoned out, she left her body, she floated away high above whatever was happening to her below. It was the only way that she could cope with and protect herself from Gideon’s degradation and humiliation, the only way that she got through the horrible pain of being fucked by him without any consideration for her readiness or pleasure.

She’d known that these MC pricks would think of sex as a transaction of sorts: she was, after all, sitting in their bedroom, running a shower in their ensuite bathroom, wearing clothes and eating food provided by them, using heat and light they paid for.

They’d held up their end of the bargain – not a deal that she’d entered voluntarily, but still – and now it was her turn to pay up. It’s not like she had a choice, and anyway, men (all men, every man she’d ever met) only understood one form of currency when it came to women. The stolen money was still in her coat pocket but she needed it for when she got the hell out of here and anyway, she knew that a few hundred dollars wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough to buy her freedom. Or save her from fucking her way to it.

So it appeared that she was to start paying her way on her back with this absolutely massive, broad-shouldered, tattooed, aptly-named wild warrior. Gideon was a large man, but this modern viking put him to serious physical shame; if Gideon’s dick had split her in half in agony, Iris could only imagine what this monster’s cock would do to her.

She just hoped that he left her able to walk… and able to fuck the rest of the boys downstairs, because of course they’d be close behind. She knew there would be blood soaking and staining her thighs before things were done, long before they decided that they’d used her up.

Stopping her jumbled thoughts, staring blankly at a spot on the wall behind this beast, Iris slowly lowered herself to her knees.

The man started. “Ummmm…”

Before her courage could desert her, she crossed her arms in front of her, yanked the sweater up and over her head, dropped her arms again and clasped her hands in front of her body. Automatically, she lowered her head in submission and her long hair brushed her nipples, covering them so that just the rose-pink tips peeped out. Zoe hadn’t brought her a bra and she was so small that she didn’t really need one, but right now, she’d do a lot for that tiny, extra barrier of protection before the inevitable.

She waited.

“Hey,” Viking said, sounding shocked. “Listen, I didn’t come up here – I don’t – I’m not –”

Despite herself, Iris glanced up. He didn’t sound like a man about to fling her on the bed and fuck her while she did everything possible to disengage from her body. In fact, he was standing as far from her as he could without actually being outside the room. Puzzled, she blinked up at him.

“Listen, honey,” he said quietly. “Get dressed. Please.”

“I –” she said. “I don’t understand. You don’t want payment?”

“Payment?” he echoed. “For what?”

She gestured around her, her bare breasts lifting with the motion. “For all of this . How do I pay for it?”

“How do you –” Viking ran his large hand over his beard, staring at her with astonishment. “You don’t pay for it and even if you did, it sure as hell would not be like this.”

“I – really?”

“Yes, baby. Really. Now put your top back on and let’s talk.”

She did as he said, then watched in utter confusion as he extended a hand to her. Cautiously, she accepted it, her hand disappearing completely into his, and he helped her to her feet.

“OK,” he said, and she saw that he had the gentlest brown eyes that she’d ever looked into. “That’s better, huh?”

“Yes,” she said, her hand still warm and small in his. “Thank you.”

“So maybe we can start again?”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“Right.” He released her hand, and she briefly missed the sweet pressure. “So like I said, I’m Viking. And you are?”

She paused as it came to her that that was not a totally straightforward question for her to answer because although she’d been Iris for the past year, she actually had another name too. It was one that she’d been ordered by Gideon to forget, to kill and bury deep. She’d done so happily enough, back when she’d thought that Gideon and the Garden of Divine Light were something good and pure, but she knew better now. If she wanted to resurrect her former self, to reclaim a part of herself that had been lost, this was the perfect time to do that.

Then again, did she really want a bunch of criminals to know anything real about her? She didn’t have a clue what might happen to her in the foreseeable future, and she had to face the possibility that she’d have to run from this place when nobody was watching. If that happened, why would she tell them anything to help them track her down?

“Iris,” she said and immediately felt a bit safer.

“Iris,” he repeated, smiling down at her. “Well, Iris, why don’t you sit down and we’ll get acquainted a little bit.”

She nodded, and turned to go sit on the chair in the corner – then she gasped and whirled around.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I won’t do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Turn my back on you.” She was sure that he’d punish her for the disrespect, that her reprieve was pathetically short-lived because as usual, she had fucked up the most basic of rules. “I know that was wrong.”

He looked at her with those amazing eyes and he seemed to be seeing through her skin, past her bones, right to her core. Iris shivered at the thought that he had that power, the same way that Gideon had, and that she’d never be able to keep any part of herself just for herself.

“Well,” he said in that rough voice. “You don’t need to worry about that with me, or with anyone else around here. Feel free to turn your back on us any damn time you leave a room, or walk away, or even if you just feel like it ‘cause we’re being annoying.”

“I – really?”

“Yes, honey. Really.” He pointed at the chair. “Go on and practice now.”

It was the strangest feeling to turn her back on him and walk over to the chair, and then it occurred to Iris that she used to do this all the time . Back before Gideon and his rules and demands, back when she’d done everything she’d wanted whenever she’d wanted to. Not everything from that time in her life was good or admirable, to be sure – but at least she’d been able to walk to a fucking chair without crumbling to the floor in fear. Strange how she'd forgotten this tiny part of her alternate reality; it was only a year ago but it felt like a lifetime.

She sat down, tucked her legs up and into her chest. She wrapped her arms around her knees and watched as Viking leaned against the wall, his massive tattooed arms loosely crossed, the muscles bulging and stretching the t-shirt material impossibly tight.

“So I’ll ask you again: do you need some medical attention?” he asked her. “You were out in the cold for a long time, and I have to make sure that you’re OK.”

“I am.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I really am.”

“OK, then," he said. “And I’m guessing that you have some questions for me. So shoot, baby.”

“Erm.” Iris wasn’t used to asking for anything or needing anything, but he was right and she did seek some pretty crucial information. “Where am I?”

“You mean the bar?”

“No, I mean, which state? Which city?”

Viking gave her a long, searching look. “State and city?”

“Yes.”

“Colorado. Denver, Colorado.”

“Ah.” She was relieved that at least that part of her pathetically ramshackle plan had managed to come together; she was long gone from Utah. “And the bar?”

He laughed now, the sound rolling deep and warm from that astounding chest. “Satan’s Bar. We own it.”

“We?”

“The Road Devils.”

“Are what are you?” She thought about the men’s names, the matching vests, the gun, the tattoos. “Are you a – a biker gang?”

“You mean, are we a motorcycle club as seen on prime time TV and in Hollywood movies?”

She nodded.

“Yes and no.” He sighed. “We are indeed an MC but we aren’t criminals.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well…” A strange look crossed his face, then he seemed to snap back to himself. “Yeah. I mean, no, we’re not criminals.”

“OK,” Iris said, not totally convinced that he was telling the truth; after all, she’d seen him in the middle of the night, in a forest one state over, standing next to a fire. She’d smelled the large metal barrel thing and seen the tools in the back of the van. If the club was out of the criminal life, how did any of that make sense? But in the end, she was happy to let it all go because the less she knew about these guys and their extracurricular activities, the better. “And when can I leave?”

“That’s totally up to Wolf.”

“Why is it up to Wolf? Not anyone else?”

“Because he’s our President, and what he says goes. Once he decides that you’re cool, you can be on your merry way.”

“And – and how does he decide? That I’m cool?”

“That’s between you and him. He’ll come and talk to you soon – almost certainly tonight – and then we’ll see where we are. For now, you kick back and relax, and you tell Holt out there if you need anything at all. He’ll get Rebel to make you some dinner, and maybe if you’re super-charming, Cole will bring you a nightcap later.”

“So – I just wait for Wolf?”

“Yep. You just wait.” Viking nodded at her, then opened the door. “So take it easy and I’ll see you later. I’m heading home to get some rest.”

Iris watched him close the door, then she settled deeper into the armchair to contemplate her situation, now that she had a slightly broader picture.

By a complete miracle, she’d escaped Utah in the van, and so Gideon and his asshole Guardians would now be utterly stumped about her trail just ending at the edge of the forest. Of course they’d see Viking’s huge footsteps going to and from the fire area, but even if they knew that a man had been there, they’d never be able to find out who it was. Gideon acted all-mighty and all-knowing and all-encompassing – but not even he could look at tire tracks and human prints and magically know what vehicle and which human being had made them, or where they were now.

Yes, for a long time she’d thought of Gideon as somehow capable of all that, but sitting here now in this chair, in this snug little room, in Colorado, she knew he had no way of finding her. He was only human after all, and she exhaled in relief as the realization seeped into her body that she was beyond Gideon’s reach.

Now she had to talk to Wolf, see where his head was about her leaving. She already knew that she had to play as dumb as possible in terms of Viking and the fire in the forest, and she also had to stay quiet about Gideon and the Garden. On top of all of that , she had to explain what the actual hell had possessed her to hide in the back of a stranger’s van wearing the most insane attire that could possibly be imagined.

What this all meant was that she had to come up with one hell of a good story to explain who she was and where she came from, so she’d better use this time to get her head straight. In her short time with Wolf, she’d already seen a man who didn’t suffer fools gladly, and whose laser-beam eyes burned straight through bullshit.

Normally, she’d be intimidated by a man like this and think that she couldn’t fool him… but her six months hiding drug-free in plain sight at the Garden had given her confidence in her ability to bald-faced lie to everyone around her. Iris now knew that she could dodge and dissemble expertly; she could pretend and fake like a spy. All she could hope was that she could do it well enough to get past Wolf.

So, for now she’d just sit here in this chair and think, and plan, and wait.

If there’s anything that I know how to do well, it’s those three things .