Page 16 of Spinner’s Luck (The Devil’s House MC: South Carolina #2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FLICK STOOD AT the end of the table, his shoulders stiff, his voice tight with anger as he relayed what had gone down with Dragon Fire. Beside him, the prospect Hunter, a kid barely out of high school, fresh to the life, tried to hold his composure. He had done well for someone so green, but I could see the fear flickering in his eyes. It wasn’t every day you had a close call with the afterlife.

“They surrounded us, Devil,” Flick said, his words clipped. “Drago smashed up the truck and said the roads belong to them now. Told us we’d have to pay up if we wanted to move through their territory.”

Devil leaned back in his chair, his expression cold and unreadable. He exhaled slowly, like he was calculating every possible angle. “Anything else?” he asked, his tone calm but edged enough to cut.

Hunter swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He glanced at me and Mystic, hesitating before he spoke. “He... he said to return his ol’ lady—or you’re a dead man—and...” He trailed off, his voice cracking.

“And?” Devil pressed, his tone icy.

Hunter’s gaze darted around the table before saying, “Fang said to tell Lucy he sends his regards... and to give her a big kiss from him.”

The room went deathly still, tension rippling through the air like a storm about to break. I sat up straighter, fists tightening as my pulse thundered in my ears.

“What else did he say about her?” I bit out.

Hunter flinched. “That’s all he said.”

“They’re baitin’ us,” Bolt said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but his eyes were cold as steel. “Trying to rattle us by draggin’ the women into it.”

“They ain’t just baitin’ us.” Mystic's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as his expression turned lethal. A muscle ticked in his cheek, his presence radiating pure menace from the shadows. “They’re askin’ to get buried.”

“Fang’s known for bein’ ruthless,” Chain added, leaning back with a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ran with some nasty street gangs before Drago picked him up.”

“Why does he care about Lucy?” I asked, so fucking frustrated.

“She’s connected to him somehow,” Gatsby said quietly, barely looking up from the glass of whiskey he was spinning in his hands. “They either think they can use her—or there’s something Lucy hasn’t told us.”

All eyes turned my way, their silence heavier than a loaded shotgun aimed at my gut.

“She’s got nothin’ to do with this,” I said firmly. “Lucy came here for Zeynep, and she’d never work for those bastards.”

“Can you be sure?” Devil asked, his eyes probing mine for doubt.

I met his gaze without flinching. “Yes.”

Rune leaned forward, his face dark with frustration. “Fang’s trying to mess with our heads. Make us question her. Make us turn her over, thinking we can’t trust her.”

“We can’t let this stand,” Gearhead growled, his fists resting on the table like twin hammers. “They came after our brothers, tried claimin’ our roads, and now they’re pullin’ this head game shit? We gotta hit back.”

“And we will,” Devil said calmly. He leaned in, his crimson gaze sweeping the room, unreadable yet burning with intent. “But we do it when we say so, not when Drago thinks he’s calling the shots. That bastard wants us to bite, to get sloppy, to hand him an opening on a silver platter. We don’t give him the satisfaction. Flick and Hunter are still breathing for a reason, it means Drago’s not done playing yet. And that? That pisses me off more than if he’d put ‘em in the ground.”

Chain leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw with a slow smirk. “So what, we’re just supposed to sit on our asses and wait for that snake to make his next move? Feels like a whole lotta bullshit to me, Devil. Drago’s playin’ chess, but I’d rather flip the damn board and put a boot to his throat.”

Devil didn’t even blink at Chain’s outburst. Instead, he leaned in further, his fingers tapping against the table in a slow, measured rhythm. The room was dead quiet, every man locked in on him like he was reading the gospel of war.

“You think I don’t wanna rip his throat out?” Devil’s voice was low, edged with the kind of patience that meant he’d already thought five steps ahead. “But that’s what Drago’s banking on, us going in blind, guns hot, and losing good men in the process. That’s not how we do this.”

He shifted his gaze, eyes like burning coals as they cut across the table.

“We don’t hit back loud, we hit back smart. Thunder and Mystic will keep tailing their guys, figure out who’s making their runs and where they’re stockpiling. Bolt, Chain, you’ll check in with our contacts at the docks—see if Dragon Fire’s been moving weight under our noses. Gatsby, I want you digging into their mechanics, see what shops they’re using to clean their cash. Drago’s got a network, and I wanna cut the legs out from under him before he even sees the blade coming.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

“When the time comes, we won’t just take our shot, we’ll take everything. Their money, their power, and stomp that fucking club into dirt. And then, when there’s nothing left for him to cling to, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes myself.”

A slow, dark smile curled his lips.

“Now tell me that don’t sound better than running in like a bunch of pissed-off idiots.”

Every man nodded in agreement and Bolt added, “We tighten security. Eyes on Lucy and Zeynep, and anyone seein’ Dragon Fire on our land doesn’t ask questions, they shoot.”

Devil’s gaze shifted to Mystic, who looked ready to tear someone apart with his bare hands. “They can’t have Zeynep,” Mystic snarled, his expression dangerous.

“They won’t stop until Drago’s dead,” Devil replied evenly.

“Then I’ll make it fuckin’ happen,” Mystic snarled.

Every instinct in me screamed that this would only escalate, but I kept my mouth shut, spinning the small gadget in my hands to calm the anxiety rising inside me.

“Spinner,” Devil said, snapping my attention back to him.

“Yeah?”

“I want every route they could be using mapped out,” he ordered. “Start with Georgia. Find where they’re vulnerable, and we’ll hit them when they least expect it.”

I nodded. “Got it.” My mind immediately began ticking through the maps I’d memorized as a kid in the psych hospital. Every road, highway, and back route in South Carolina and beyond, it was all burned into my brain.

“Did Lucy’s background check out?” I asked, knowing they’d had time to dig deeper.

“Yeah,” Gatsby said with a chuckle. “Lucinda May Luck. Twenty-eight, from Ocala, Florida. Clean record, no red flags. The only odd thing is she doesn’t seem to stay in one place. Her last permanent address was her parents’ place, which was sold three years ago.”

“She moves around for her investigations, tryin’ to get herself killed,” I muttered. At least she was clean. Kickstand would double-check, but I trusted Gatsby’s work.

“What do we tell Lucy about Fang?” Chain asked, his grin dark. “She’s hotheaded. If she gets it in her head to go after ‘em, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“She doesn’t need to know everything,” Devil said, his tone final. “She’s sharp, so she’ll figure out something is up, but make sure she knows we’ve got it handled. Tell her to stay put.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tight. Lucy wasn’t the kind to sit back while others handled her problems. But if she ended up in Fang’s hands, it wouldn’t just be her life on the line—it’d be mine too when I went after her.

“Are we clear?” Devil asked, sweeping his gaze over the table.

One by one, the men nodded.

“Good.” Devil stood, his presence commanding the room. “Meeting’s over. Get to work.”

Chairs scraped back as the men rose, their conversations quiet and tense as they filtered out. I stayed behind, staring at the table as Fang’s words played over in my head, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Spinner,” Devil said quietly.

I looked up, meeting his piercing gaze.

“Don’t let this get personal,” he warned. “I’ve got my hands full with Mystic already.”

I gave him a curt nod but didn’t say a word. It wasn’t about letting it get personal anymore. It already was.

I SAT ON the worn couch in the corner of the clubhouse’s common room, flipping through a magazine I wasn’t really reading. Ashlynn and her flock of biker Barbies were stationed nearby, throwing daggers my way with their glares. I ignored them, keeping my focus on the glossy pages, though my mind was elsewhere.

Fiona was out with her dad, Zeynep was resting, and the rest of the more tolerable women were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t dare disturb Zeynep—Mystic would bite my head off if he found out. Besides, something felt off. The men had been in their meeting for too long, and when they finally came out, the tension carved into their faces told me everything I needed to know: something bad was brewing.

The heavy thud of boots on the floor pulled my attention. Spinner walked in, his expression serious. Not angry, serious. Somehow, that was worse.

“You look like you’ve got something to say,” I said, closing the magazine and tossing it onto the table.

“We need to talk.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah... maybe...” He hesitated, glancing around the room before gesturing toward the door. “Let’s take this outside.”

I followed him to the back porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we stepped outside. The stars above were scattered like shards of broken glass against a black velvet sky. The peaceful view did nothing to calm the knot in my gut.

Spinner leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, he just looked at me, his jaw tight, like he was still figuring out how to say what needed saying.

“Words, Spinner. Use them,” I said dryly. “Preferably without all the damn circling.”

“Dragon Fire’s escalating,” he said, curiosity lacing his steady voice. “They seem real interested in you.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “What makes you think those assholes are interested in me?”

“Fang mentioned you,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine.

The mention of Fang had my chest tightening. “What’d he say?”

“Something about sendin’ his regards,” Spinner said, his expression hard. “It’s bait, Lucy. They’re tryin’ to get under our skin.”

I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice steady even as anxiety coiled tight in my gut. Fang had made his move, and now the heat was closing in like a wildfire out of control. “Drago’s pissed I got Zeynep out. Now he wants blood— mine .”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Spinner said, his tone as firm as the grip he had on the railing.

I raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to stop it? Tie me to the clubhouse and post a guard twenty-four-seven? I’ve got to leave eventually.”

“If I have to,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You’re not leavin’ this place until we know it’s safe.”

“Spinner,” I said evenly, stepping closer. “I’ve been handling threats like this for years. I know how to take care of myself.”

“This isn’t just some empty warning,” he growled, his frustration cutting through. “Fang’s not some two-bit thug, he’s a goddamn predator. Cold. Calculated. If he’s got you in his sights, it’s ‘cause you’re a piece on his board, and he don’t play games he ain’t plannin’ to win.”

His words stuck, heavy and suffocating, because I knew he was right. Fang didn’t move without purpose, he was deliberate, patient, and vicious. I’d learned that the hard way. The memory of that day flickered at the edges of my mind, unwelcome but impossible to shake. The helplessness, the pain, the rage, it all simmered beneath my skin. And now he was back, pulling the strings, reminding me that I was still in his sights. That pissed me off more than it scared me. I refused to be his victim again.

“I get it,” I said finally, softening my tone. “But you can’t protect me from everything. That’s not how this works.”

Spinner pushed off the railing, closing the space between us until the heat of him pressed against my skin. His voice dropped lower, rough, almost a growl. “You’re here, Lucy. That means you’re under my protection. Whether you like it or not.”

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on, my pulse hammering in defiance . “I don’t need your protection,” I shot back. “I’m here for Zeynep, because she’s my friend. Not because I need some biker playing bodyguard.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But you’re here now. And I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you. You need to get it through your head that you’re not invincible. You’re not gonna risk yourself over pride.” He gave me a smirk and added, “Maybe you need an ole fashioned ass whippin’ to get you to behave.”

My mouth dropped at his threat. “You think you can tell me what to do? Try giving me a whipping, Spinner, and see how that works out for you.”

He took a step forward, towering over me, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with frustration. “Dammit, Lucy, you’re gonna listen for once! You keep pushin’ back, and it’s gonna get you killed. For fucks sakes listen to what I’m tellin’ you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice stopped me cold. I wanted to argue, to shove him off his high horse, but the truth was... I didn’t hate the idea of someone giving a damn, of someone trying to keep me safe.

I exhaled sharply, the silence between us stretching tight like a wire ready to snap. “Fine,” I muttered, my jaw tense. “But if Fang thinks I’m important, we can use that.”

Spinner’s eyes narrowed, dark and curious. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

I stepped closer, my pulse drumming with adrenaline. “I mean, let’s turn it against them,” I said, my mind already racing. “If they’re watching me, we can feed them bullshit—fake intel, false moves. Make them react to ghosts.”

His expression hardened, his jaw ticking. “Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?” I fired back, not hiding my anger at his dismissive attitude.

His glare burned into me, his voice dropped, steady and unyielding. “Because it’s too goddamn risky.” He took a step closer, the heat between us sparking like live wires. “I’m not losin’ you over some half-assed scheme.”

The weight of his words hit me harder than I expected, a strange warmth curling deep in my stomach. The space between us was tight, charged with more than just anger. He was close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him, see the way his chest rose and fell, controlled but tense.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to lean back against the railing, needing even the smallest distance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Spinner didn’t move, didn’t blink. His lips twitched like he had something to say but held it back.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered, his voice rough. “And you’re a pain in my ass. You could make a nun curse and a monk fuck after dealin’ with you.”

Despite the dig at me, I laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

The stars above twinkled faintly, the distant laughter from the clubhouse floating on the warm breeze. I could feel the pull between us, a taut, electric thread that neither of us dared to sever. Spinner stepped closer, his gaze softening just enough to make my heart stumble. I wanted more than anything for him to kiss me.

“Hey, Spinner... Lucy,” Thunder’s voice called out, his long strides breaking the spell as he approached. “Nice night, yeah?”

The moment shattered, and I straightened, forcing an apologetic smile. “Let’s head inside for a drink.”

Spinner hesitated, then smirked. “If that’s my only option.”

As we turned, he reached for my hand, and I didn’t pull away.