Page 9

Dante

My hands were tied behind my back, and I was hauled down the stairs into a basement before I was tied to a chair. I had to smother a laugh at the irony.

I was finally getting a taste of my own medicine and understanding how Rachel felt the night I met her.

This shit was uncomfortable.

But at least Rachel didn't have a stab wound in her back and a throbbing headache to boot.I always told her she was ungrateful for the way I had treated her.

That’s bullshit, and you know it.

Yeah, I did. But if I didn’t make jokes, I’d have to sit and think about what an asshole I was, and I wasn’t ready to face that reality, either.

Four men entered the room with me, and I knew, I just fucking knew, one of them was Macbeth. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, the same as it always did whenever he was at my back.

And it wasn’t a fear thing. It was instinct. When a rat is at your back ready to strike, you can sense its approach.

“Having fun, Mac?” I asked, not turning around to look at him.

“That shit might have been spooky when we were kids, but that's long gone.”

“Okay,” I said, and went to shrug my shoulders. I gritted my teeth as my arms pulled against the restraints.

“I mean it, Dante. You’re not the one in control here. I am. And knowing when I’ve entered the room without looking at me isn’t going to make me wobble. Play your mind games elsewhere.”

“Mind games,” I half laughed, half scoffed. “Okay.”

“Cut it out.”

“Cut what out? ”

Oh, my God. I was turning into Rachel.

These simple, bored answers were exactly how she would have approached this situation.

“You know what you’re doing, and it’s pissing me off. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be and don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Something you’ll regret? Mate, you still won't step where I can see you. You won’t come out from behind your henchmen.

I think I’m good,” I replied, keeping my voice even and not letting any trace of anger betray me.

Macbeth thrived on getting a rise out of me.

I tested the handcuffs around the chair, but they didn't budge. Not that it mattered.

“You don't need to see me for what's about to happen.”

I rolled my eyes. “What B rated movie have you dragged me into? Scenery is shit, budget is shit, acting… shit.”

“Enough!” a male voice snapped. I squinted my eyes as a large man came around the front of the chair and stood in front of me. He looked familiar, but not familiar enough for me to place him. He reminded me of someone, yet not a close enough reminder to pull the face to the front of my mind.

“I'm not interested in brotherly bickering.

Macbeth can deal with you in whatever way he sees fit when I'm done here. But first things first,” he said, stepping towards me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

“You have something that belongs to me and my family, and I want it back.”

“A set of balls?”

“Funny guy. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

He smirked at me. “I'll answer that in a moment,” he released my hair and reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He didn't look at me as he began to use the blade to clean under his nails. “Tell me, Dante, do you know who I am?”

“Not a clue, and I don't give a shit, either.”

He let out a huffed laugh through his nose.

“You should care. I just assumed you would know. Everyone says I’m a carbon copy of my big brother.

My mother sometimes says it's like talking to ghosts.

We favour each other that much. I'm Callum, by the way.

But you won't be around long enough to tell anyone that.

You see, it's not really that you have some thing that belongs to me. More, some one. And that someone took something very important from me. I need to repay the favour. ”

My blood froze. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

“But before we get into all of that, let me explain what's happening here.

I'm sure you have questions,” he said, bringing his fingers to his lips to blow away specs of dirt he had cleaned from his nails.

He leant back against a table, and ran his fingers over the tip of the blade, his eyes trained on me, watching for the smallest reaction I had to his words.

“I don’t have any questions. Asshole teamed up with asshole, to kidnap and tie up a further asshole. It’s pretty obvious what’s happened. I don’t need the dear diary version.”

His grin tightened. “It’s not quite as simple as that.

You have a lot of enemies, Dante. Did you know that?

When Macbeth came to us with this plan, I was against it at first. I mean, kidnapping the VP of the Devil's Disciples was asking for trouble. And in our line of work, we don't like to draw attention to ourselves. It’s better to fly under the radar. But Ben – You remember Ben, don’t you?

” he asked with a sardonic grin. “Well, he was adamant we could make this work. Everyone knows your old man – Crash, I believe his name is? Yeah, Macbeth told us everything,” he said as I growled low in my throat.

“As I was saying, we know he’s on his way out, and you were ready to take his place any day.

Except, you were never supposed to be the main man, were you?

You took from your brother, just like you took from me.

With you gone, Macbeth could take your place as the new President, and order would be restored. ”

“So, I guess I am getting the dear diary version, Fantastic. You’re wasting your breath. I kind of already guessed this was Macbeth’s doing. He’s not named Macbeth for nothing.”

“But” he continued, as though I hadn't spoken.

I noticed his finger pushed down slightly on the blade, betraying his annoyance.

“Macbeth here tells us he didn't want to be leader after all.

He'd rather see the downfall of the Disciples, and every member there. You guys must have really pissed him off,” he said with a hollow laugh. “Anything to say about that?”

“Couldn’t give a fuck.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “That’s about all I was expecting from you, anyway.

I’ll admit, I was cautious. As I said, taking on one of the UK's biggest biker groups was a risk, but Ben was adamant we could make it work. He also knew how much my family wanted revenge. I was still unsure – that is until Ben disappeared without a word. That’s three people you’ve taken from me since Macbeth here tells me you were the one responsible for Ben’s death. ”

“Did he now?”

“It's whatever,” he said, waving me away.

“Ben had served his time as leader here. We might not be a motorcycle club, but we have leaders all the same. Did you know, I was always supposed to be the next leader? None of us want children - if truth be told, none of us could be trusted to be around them,” he said with a sickening, dry laugh.

The other men in the room, including that fuck Macbeth, laughed along with him.

“Why is it I was supposed to be the leader, do you think?” He pushed off the table and came closer to me, crouching down in front of me, bringing his face completely out of the shadows.

And that's when it fucking clicked. There was a reason why his face was so fucking familiar to me. I had seen enough similarities when I had been researching the court case of Rachel's dad.

“I take it you're his brother?” I said, forcing my voice to remain even.There was no point in saying his name. We both knew who I had that he wanted back.

And who she had killed.

He grinned widely. “You catch on quickly. You can say his name, though. It's not going to bring him back from the dead to go for round two with your missus.”

The anger that flew through my body was so forceful I could almost taste it. My jaw gritted, and it took every ounce of restraint I had to hold back and not play my hand too soon.

“So, if you're Alex's brother, why did you allow Ben to keep running the place?”

He sighed, “My family made a few mistakes, and so we’ve been abroad for a while.

It was either shut down or let Ben take the reins.

Ben was like a brother to Alex, so he was an obvious choice.

I came back when Macbeth started telling tales of Rachel's return. I've been in the shadows, watching, taking it all in. The minute my return goes public, my enemies come out of the woodwork. Well, they’re not my enemies. I wasn’t involved in the shit that went down.

But that’s family life, eh? That's when Macbeth here told us about the Rough Riders, and the long-running feud you have with them.

I've spoken to their President. If we can bring them evidence of your death, they'll offer us protection.

Sounds like a win-win to me. And, with your death, I'm free to pay Rachel dearest a visit, and the Riders will take care of the rest of your club. It all worked out so perfectly, I could have plucked the idea straight out of my own dreams.”

Cool it, Dante. Don't react. Not yet.

My only response was to plant both my feet firmly on the floor as I said, “my club is more than me. Even if I’m dead, Rachel is adequately protected.” I hope to God she was the stubborn bitch I had come to know and had remained in the fucking clubhouse!

“For now. It's okay, though. I'm willing to wait for her.

I have a lot of plans for our time together.

A lot of plans. And they don't include her dying straight away. If it takes me a few more days, or a week, to get to her, I can live with that. She'll be spending the rest of her life with me, after all. In fact, I may even wait. Let her have her grieving period when she finds out about your untimely death. I don’t want the bitch crying all day, every day.”

“You're pathetic,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Didn't you hear me? Come here, I'll say it right to your face.”

My legs tensed.