Page 1 of Darkness

Chapter One

PRONUNCIATION

Nycto [ nik′tow ]

Nyctophilia [ nik′t?-fil′e-? ]

NYCTO

“I’ll rendezvous with the ship to collect the packages myself.” I tap the ash off my cigarette. “As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you, Andrés.”

His raspy chuckle comes back down the line. “The pleasure’s all mine, Nycto. Just make sure all six packages leave that ship in pristine condition. No damage. Not a mark in any way to the products… You know how I like my presents wrapped.”

I shake my head with a smirk. Fucker. “I’m aware. We’ve been in business a long time, Andrés. Have I ever let you down?”

“Not yet. You get the job done, no questions asked. I like that about you.”

That’s the thing about delivering packages the way we do here in Tampa. The buyers want no questions, and I’m happy to oblige as long as I get my hefty paycheck. I don’t give a shit what I’m delivering. All I care about is making as many bills for my club as I can.

Being the goddamn rebels of the Defiance Motorcycle Club means we’re built for this line of work. We ride hard, we don’t ask questions, and we don’t give a flying fuck about anything.

Danger? We laugh in the face of that shit, then give it the middle finger for good measure.

We’re Defiance—we live by the code, and we’ll die by the code. I feel sorry for any fucker who gets in our way.

“I’ll inform you when we’re en route. Till then, Andrés, fuck off.”

He chuckles. “See you soon, Nycto.” The call ends abruptly, and I toss my cell onto the Chapel table.

Returning to my cigarette, I take in a long draw as I peer around the room. My brothers watch, waiting for their orders. Exhaling a ring of smoke, I glance at my VP, Void. “We’re making a run. Palma Sola Bay, tonight, to unload six packages.”

Void narrows his eyes on me. “Straight to Andrés?”

“We collect, then transfer to his men at the yard. Simple snatch and swap, like always.”

Nerve sits forward, resting his massive fucking hands on the table. “When do we leave?”

“I have shit to settle underground first. Will take a few hours. Ship should be docked by the time we arrive.”

“Who you wanna take, Pres?” Void asks.

I run my hand over the day’s growth on my chin, thinking it through. There’s always a risk when going on a run. I need to leave at least one experienced brother behind at the clubhouse, just in case. “Void, Nerve, Spark, Atomic, you’re with me. We’ll take a couple of prospects too. Everyone else stay back, keep an eye on the place. Be ready with bail money if we need you.”

A chuckle echoes around the room, but I’m deadly fucking serious. If we get caught, I’m not even sure we’d get bail. We’re not known for being law-abiding citizens. “Right, we all know what we’re doing?”

“Aye.” The answer rumbles around the room.

I slam my gavel on the industrial metal desk. The force of the strike causes the rivets lining the top edge to jiggle. Old with small rust stains in each corner from years of spilled booze, this table was in our bunker when we purchased it. It has history. Character. Appeal. When Tampa Defiance moved into this bunker—or more appropriately, our clubhouse—we gave the table new life with our Defiance insignia proudly displayed in the middle.

My brothers stand to get ready for our mission as I take in the Chapel. The area is small. The industrial wall lamps sit against the gray stucco walls, illuminating the room, but only barely.

Just the way I like it.

The entire clubhouse is located in an underground bunker with a rounded ceiling.

There’s no natural light.

Light is the enemy in my domain.

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