I wait for my conscience to kick in, for that little voice to demand I turn my truck around, but it doesn’t sound.It doesn’t even make a peep.It’s like my conscience has come to peace with the notion that I am about to sell my soul to the devil himself, and instead of talking myself out of it, I tell myself there’s no other choice.
Granddaddy forced this upon me when he signed that fucking will, giving my sister half of everything I worked for.All the blood, sweat, and tears.The fucking sacrifices I made.It was all for nothing.I always thought he favored her, and today the reading of his will confirmed those thoughts.
It took every ounce of self-control to walk out of my office and brave a friendly face to the people who gathered at the house.I took their condolences with a grain of salt, and when they praised my grandfather, I nodded in solidarity when all I really wanted to do was throw everyone out.I wanted to shout that he was a fraud and make them all aware of the way he betrayed me.
By the time the last guest left the ranch, my anger had morphed into something deeper.Something dark and disturbing.I realized I didn’t give a fuck about making my granddaddy proud anymore.Nor did I care about preserving his legacy.
It was time for me to become selfish.
Time to put me and my needs above everyone else’s.
Call it a reckoning if you will.
I poured myself a drink and called Shadow.I asked him if he meant what he said the other night at Rodeo Roundup—if his club was serious about expanding its portfolio.He said yes, and I asked for a meeting with his president.
I didn’t expect him to call me back fifteen minutes later, requesting I meet him here to sit down with Lucifer, the president of the Fallen Demons MC, but life always did move faster beyond the gates in front of me than it did anywhere else.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and my gaze cuts to the screen on the dashboard.Accepting the call from Shadow, I lean back in my leather seat.
“Hey,” I rasp.
“You plan on sitting out there all night, or should I have one of the prospects open the gate for you?”
I shake my head at that.It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows I’m here.They’ve got cameras everywhere.
“Sorry,” I grunt.“It’s been a long day.”
“You having second thoughts?”
“No,” I reply.I think that’s the problem, but I don’t tell him that.Instead, I ask him to open the gate, and park in the first available spot before disconnecting the call.
Grabbing the folder from the passenger seat that contains all the ranch’s financial records, I get out of my truck.A few of the guys Shadow calls his brothers meander outside the clubhouse.I acknowledge them with a curt nod, and one of them offers me a joint, which I politely decline—although, I’m not so sure why.
I could use something to take the edge off.
Shadow exits the clubhouse, and we head for a trailer at the other end of the property.
As we reach the trailer, Shadow explains Lucifer prefers to talk business where he is less likely to be interrupted or distracted, and that he acquired the trailer specifically for meetings with legitimate business partners.
“It’s a work in progress,” he adds.“So don’t mind the mess.”
Once inside, my gaze instantly sweeps around the room.He wasn’t kidding about the mess.There are cans of paint and tarps all over the room, and the only furniture is a card table and some folding chairs, one of which is occupied by Lucifer.
He stands and offers me his tattooed hand.
“Mr.Do The Right Thing,” he drawls, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.Amusement flickers in his light eyes as they assess me.
Keeping my expression neutral, I shake his hand, my grip firm.
“I prefer Maddox.”
He raises an eyebrow and pulls his hand away.“I’ll try to remember that.”
I haven’t had too many interactions with Lucifer, and I don’t make a habit of listening to people when they talk shit about him.Opinions are like assholes and everyone’s got one.But I can’t get a read on him.I don’t know if he’s a sarcastic motherfucker on the regular or if this is a tactic of his.
I guess I’m about to find out.
He tips his chin toward one of the folding chairs.“Take a seat,” he says as he lowers his tall frame back into his chair.Reaching into his leather cut, he takes out a pack of smokes.“I’d offer you my condolences, but I’m guessing you’ve heard enough of that.”
