Her dark hair is scraped into a messy topknot, as she usually wears it in the evening, and the oversized sweater she’s wearing has fallen off one tanned shoulder. I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I stare at her, a thousand thoughts colliding. I’ve never had a visceral reaction to a woman, until Amalia—and it scares the fuck out of me.
My heart thuds in my chest, my blood racing through my veins like liquid fire.
I should let her go, but I can’t. It’s not love, but obsession and I am completely infatuated with her.
Chapter Two
Eight months earlier…
Fury
I watch as Sin’s fist pulls back and slams into Roger Lazlo’s face, excitement singing through my belly. I lick my lips as the blood sprays from his mouth, relishing the way it splatters onto the concrete. The scent of copper is heavy in the air and as always it relaxes me, makes my demons die down enough for me to focus on watching the action unfold.
“What did you do with the fucking product?” Sin roars in his face.
Lazlo doesn’t answer, just hangs there like a limp noodle, blood trickling from beneath the shackles around his wrists, which are attached to a meat hook in the ceiling. It’s the only thing holding him up. His legs gave out a while ago, leaving him dangling, and his face looks like a pile of mincemeat. I can’t stop the elation that rolls through me seeing him like this. I just wish it was me doling out the hits, although I wouldn’t use my fists, but my knives. There’s no grace in hitting someone, but there’s real art that can be done with a blade. I can see in my head where I would carve, watching as the lines of blood appear, his screams and pleas filling my ears.
This isn’t my party, though. It’s Sin’s. I’m only here in the hope he’ll step aside and let me have my fun. He doesn’t show any sign that might happen. The little fucker is enjoying this ride too much. That’s Sin, though. He hides this part of himself, but he has a darkness inside of him that makes my demons roar, wanting to cut slices off him, but he’s a brother and there are rules.
The basement of our clubhouse is my favourite space. The bare concrete walls are lined with polyethylene sheets, designed to catch any forensic evidence. The rest can be washed down the drain that sits in the middle of the floor. I swear if you listen you can still hear the ghosts of the past and their cries.
Sin moves over to the sink and runs the water, washing the blood off his knuckles and I scrape my fingers over the handle of my knife, wanting to take over. The tool trolley in the middle of the floor is filled with some of my favourite toys, all designed to make a man who doesn’t want to talk spill his fucking guts. I’d have this fucker squealing already, telling us what we want to know, but Sin enjoys the build-up of this game too much to rush it.
I watch as he picks up a pair of pliers from the trolley and turns back to Roger. His swollen eyes try to widen and without any more probing, he tells us everything.
Damn.
I wanted to see where this was going, what Sin would do next.
The brother puts the pliers down and steps towards Roger’s swinging body.
“We’ll check it out, but if you’re lying…”
He lets the threat dangle and I lick my tongue over my lips, my mouth suddenly filling with saliva. Roger’s dead, no matter if his lead turns out to be true or not. We don’t make a habit of keeping witnesses around. I hope I’m the one who gets to put out the light in his eyes.
Sin glances at me. “Let’s go, freak.”
His lips pull into a smile that I want to wipe off his fucking face. I am a freak, but I don’t appreciate being called one. I have to clench my fists at my sides to stop from reaching for my knives.
We head out of the basement and to the bike parking area. I climb on my Harley, the black metal shiny, the pipes glinting in the mid-morning sunlight. Once my helmet is in place, I glance at Sin and he gives me a nod. I start my engine and follow him out of the parking area.
London traffic is, as always, a nightmare, but we weave between the cars and taxis. We pass famous landmarks that fade into the background of the hustle and bustle of the city, barely noticeable anymore.
When we reach our destination, my heart gives a little twitch as excitement starts to flood my veins. This is what I live for. This is what keeps me getting up in the morning. The thrill of the upcoming fight.
We park our bikes at the side of the street and I kick down the stand before pulling my helmet off and tugging down the bandanna covering my face. Sin comes to stand next to me as I climb off my bike and he runs his fingers through his hair.
“Whatever happens in there, I’m leading this shit, got it?”
As vice president, he outranks me, but I’m not some shrinking wallflower, so the dismissal pisses me off. I can handle myself. There’s a reason I’m the fucking sergeant-at-arms of our club and it’s not so I can stand on the periphery, watching him have all the fucking fun.
“Why’d you bring me?”
His lips tug into a grin. “Back up.”
My jaw clenches. Back up? Fucker. I grit my teeth as I follow after him as he moves towards the storefront of the pawn shop.
He pushes through the main entrance, the bell over the door jangling and I follow behind him, my eyes squinting at the change in lighting. As soon as they adjust, I let my gaze
