Page 4 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

I took off down the winding roads of Evergreen Cemetery and towards downtown L.A.

I could still feel Caleb's eyes on my back even as I crossed the gates and made my way into rush hour traffic.

Something about the way he looked at me, the way suspicion coiled behind those cold ocean eyes, made it clear I needed to stop waiting. I needed to disappear, but how?

I needed to find out what Alan left behind before someone else decided to clean up his mess and bury me in the process.

I pulled down a side street and parked the bike across from the back door of Alan's place on the Northeast side of the city.

His place of business was on the first floor above a brewery.

It was a shifty place, and it always smelled of stale beer and piss, but it was private and out of sight.

Alan knew he was always being watched, which is why he chose this place.

We had my apartment on Sunset Boulevard, but for the most part, he spent his days here, in his private office.

I hadn’t been back to the apartment since that night.

But after seeing how nervous Caleb was, I thought I should make my move now before things got more intense.

My first thought was that if I wanted answers, I needed to see Alan's latest transactions.

There was only one place where I could find them, and when I did, whatever movements he had made, I could retrace them to find out what the hell he'd been up to.

The back stairwell groaned beneath my boots, each step creaking as I approached his floor. I kept my shoulders squared, my blade tucked beneath the hem of my jacket, and my senses sharp. There was no telling what I was going to find on the other side of that door.

The apartment door was cracked open, the wood splintered at the edge, and the lock had been broken clean.

I paused, listening. No sounds. No movement.

But everything in me buzzed. Debating whether to just take my losses and run, but my curiosity always got the best of me.

I carefully made my way into his place. It was completely destroyed.

Paperwork was thrown everywhere, his bookshelves had been knocked over, the furniture had been ripped through.

I made my way towards the back hallway where the main office was located.

Everything was gone. His computer, his files.

..it was all gone. My desperation grew as I stood there, staring at what was.

The apartment still smelled of him.

Even after all these weeks, even after the chaos and the forced silence that had become my world, Alan's scent clung to the walls.

Musk, old leather, tobacco, and the faint, bitter tang of blood money.

It seeped into the cracked floors and the stained couch cushions, as if the place wanted to hold onto that memory.

Inside, it looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. Files were strewn everywhere, and the furniture overturned. They had completely ransacked the apartment. It was clear that whoever had done this wasn’t just searching for something, they were sending a clear message.

It took me a second and a blurred, tear-filled vision to finally see it In the far corner, behind a toppled bookshelf, I saw it.

A fracture in the wall, barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

My fingers traced the edge, and the panel shifted.

A hidden door that led to a space where no one else had been.

I stood at the entrance, staring into the dark room.

Grabbing my cell phone, I turned on the flashlight and walked through.

I searched for a light switch which I couldn’t find.

Instead, my flashlight landed on a small desk lamp, which I turned on.

The space was small. I saw the cot first, and memories crashed over me.

Alan had brought me in here once, maybe twice, always under the cover of night, always in a rush.

But I remembered the way he had pressed me down onto that cot, the way his mouth had devoured every inch of me, desperate and greedy.

My wrists pinned above my head, his voice low and filthy, whispering how I was his as his cock drove in and out of me.

It wasn’t love. It was ownership, hunger, and a kind of brutal need I hadn’t wanted to name.

And I let him. Because for a moment, I felt like I had power over him, even if it was just his body begging for mine.

Now that same cot sat cold and empty, stained with old ghosts, and all I had left was the fire in my gut and the secrets he had left me. In the center of the room sat a small wooden chair, a table, and on that table was a closed laptop.

"What were you up to?" I whispered to myself, rushing over to the seat, and prayed the laptop would turn on. When it did, I released the breath I was holding. The password prompt stared back at me, and there was only one word I could think of.

Lazarus.

He was obsessed with the story of Lazarus and how God had raised him from the dead. He always said that one had to believe in miracles to be in his line of work, and that maybe one day he’d rise from the dead.

He’d been so very wrong.

The laptop unlocked, and a collage of images popped up.

Video surveillance, warehouse stills, unmarked crates, wire transfers.

I searched deeper and suddenly found what I was looking for, the goldmine.

An offshore account. Password protected.

Buried behind layers of false identities.

My breath caught in my throat as the numbers lit the screen. I nearly fell off my chair.

Twenty million dollars.

Alan had over twenty million in that hidden bank account, and I had just gained access to it.

He had been skimming off the top of every deal made.

He’d been stealing from the Turks for years.

Small cuts. Fractional amounts. But it added up.

A fortune stared back at me, all soaked in blood. And a betrayal that guaranteed death.

Something must have gone wrong on this last transaction for it to have gotten him killed. The Turks did not forgive easily when it came to money, love, and family. I learned that quickly. Whatever Alan had done was bad, really bad, and now I had access to it.

That last meeting? It had Caleb written all over it. No struggle. No broken locks. Whoever killed Alan had been let in, offered a drink, maybe even a smile. Then they pulled the trigger.

I knew Alan had secrets. I knew he was hiding more than women. Something darker. Something heavier. I’d catch him talking to himself at night, adding locks to the doors, checking the street late at night. His nerves were fried. His skin was always damp with sweat. He was unraveling.

Alan never told me what kind of debt he owed Caleb.

Just said it was a life for a life. Said it with that crooked smirk and a glint in his eyes that always made me feel like I was being played.

But I stayed. I believed. And maybe that made me just as much a fool as he was.

Caleb didn’t believe in favors. He believed in leverage.

And Alan? Alan was a pawn in a game he never had the brain or the balls to win.

I had a feeling that his death had been a setup, or a lesson, and Caleb Killic had something to do with it, but at this point, I didn't give a shit. My priority was to get the fuck away from the Turks. Alan left me in the hands of the devil, and I wasn't going to let him win.

I sat back, mind racing. This wasn’t just about money. This was about survival. If they found out, they wouldn’t ask questions. They’d slit my throat and dump my body in the ocean. I couldn’t return the money. That would still paint me as guilty. And I damn sure wasn’t about to let them take it.

I could easily return it and the product, but what good would that do me. It wasn’t like these people wouldn’t look at me and say I wasn’t in on it. And besides, I wanted to escape them. I needed an out and twenty million was beyond that.

I needed to know who he was selling this shit to, and I needed to move this product quickly and quietly without the Turks finding out.

The money was in a secure account for now, but I needed that moved as well and there was only one person I could think of, who could help me with creating a new account and securing that money in a place where the Turks wouldn’t find it.

Twenty million was a lot of money and if they ever found a trail it would be my head on the chopping block.

I thought for a second as to what I was doing.

I was a smart woman who knew she should run, but instead I decided to take a risk.

Either way my life was in danger. I could go to my father for safety, but I wasn’t sure how he’d respond.

It was probably best that I handle this on my own.

The less people who knew about this, the better. And with twenty million in my pocket, I had a whole new life ahead of me.

No one had to know.

No one would be the wiser.

I could leave quietly, without a trace.

I slammed the laptop shut, the click of it echoing louder than I expected in the tense silence.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I scanned the room, my eyes sharp as I searched for cameras or wires.

There weren’t any blinking red lights in the corners.

Just the stale remnants of his secrets and a pounding in my chest that wouldn't stop.

I didn’t feel safe .

My fingers trembled slightly as I tucked the laptop beneath my arm, cradling it against my ribs.

Every nerve in my body screamed for me to move, to run, but my boots felt nailed to the floor.

This wasn’t just a machine. It was damning evidence worth millions.

I could feel the weight of it. Twenty million dollars and twenty million ways to get myself killed.

Whatever Alan had been doing, he’d gone too far. And now I was left behind, holding the final piece of a puzzle no one else had figured out.