Page 1 of The Devil's Conflict

PROLOGUE

VLAD

War is about to begin, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it

I stareat the man standing like the obedient soldier. I admit I should have had him here from the beginning, but the man has never been one to stay still for too long. That’s going to change now. Nikolai Egorov. This man is reliable, loyal, and adept with all the training he’s had at the hands of his father and uncles once they brought him back where he belongs. Now, he’s the one who is going to make sure the Devil’s Soldiers MC are out of this town for good.

“I want them gone, Nikolai,” I say tightly as I get to my feet. He’s a large man, standing almost six-foot-six, keeps his hair military short, his body large and muscular, and his eyes dark and hard as he stares back at me. He nods once, saying nothing. A man of few words, and considering the last two right-handmen I’ve had, it’s a marked improvement. “I don’t care what you have to do, but make them pay.”

“Done,” he answers, turns on his heel, and walks out the door. I stare after him for a moment before I turn and look out the window. The war is about to begin, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

ONE

SNIPER

Vlad wanted a war, and he’s about to get one

I manage,barely, to hold on to my temper as I stare at the dipshit in front of me. How can someone so fucking smart be so fucking stupid? It never ceases to amaze me how many people are capable of functioning in society when they are clearly a few crayons short of a full box. It makes me long to be back in the Forces at times, and there, if someone was being an idiot, I could make their lives hell until they smarted the fuck up. But now, I have to watch every fucking thing I say or I’ll get reported to the labor board, and I don’t have time for that nonsense. So instead, I grit my teeth and say, “I need you to repeat that. Because I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

The idiot in front of me, a twenty-one-year-old kid who’s about to graduate from some big fancy university, looks at melikeI’mthe idiot and replies, “It’s not that big of a deal. You can take it out of my next paycheck and we’ll be square.”

“We’ll be square,” I repeat incredulously. “Kid, do you realize that not only did you admit to stealing money from the till so you could go out and party, but you also admitted you got access to that money by stealing a key from my office, where you shouldn’t have been in in the fucking first place? Are you fucking stupid? What kind of shit are they teaching you at that overpriced school?”

His lip pokes out in a pout, his blue eyes defiant as they stare back at me. The kid is a decent bartender, but he’s always had an attitude problem, and clearly, he hasn’t figured out that shit doesn't fly around here. His shaggy brown hair falls forward into his face, which he tosses back with a flick of his head, and I know there’s no point in arguing with him. I need to cut my losses and call it good. “It’s not like this job is going to be my career,” he tosses; that defiance in his eyes leaking into his tone. “And really, you need to take some of the blame in this. If you hadn’t left your office door open, with the keys sitting right there, then maybe I wouldn’t have done it. So really, it’s your fault.”

The balls on this kid are nothing short of amazing. Instead of answering him, I get to my feet, and a sense of satisfaction fills me at the unease that covers his face. My time in the Forces gives me a certain awareness, and in situations like this, it comes in handy. “I think you need to go back to grade school and start over because clearly you missed a few lessons along the way,” I tell him darkly. “Get your shit and get the fuck out. You’re fired, and your final paycheck is going to cover what you took. And if you try to show your face in here again, I’m going to make sure you get a beating you’ll never forget.”

“You can’t threaten me!” he yells, jumping to his feet, incensed. “I’ll fucking report you and then you’re going to have to pay me more than I took.”

“Good luck with that.” I scoff. “You really want to take on a biker club, kid? Because we don’t take too kindly to sniveling brats who steal our money.” It’s a warning that finally seems to penetrate his thick skull. He glares at me, slams the keys down on my desk, and then turns to stalk out. I shoot a quick message to Kaleb, who’s our bouncer for the night, to make sure the kid clears out without causing any problems, and then I sit down and scrub a hand over my face.

Fuck, I’m too fucking old for this bullshit. I’m forty-two-years-old, and I have no patience for the attitudes I’m running up against. Not to mention, I’m short a bartender too. Along with a server because I let that bitch, Brandy, go. The amount of trouble she was causing around here wasn’t worth the headaches or complaints. She was talking shit about the club to anyone who would listen saying we aren’t anything but a bunch of wannabe bikers that know a good thing right in front of them. Namely her, considering none of our guys were willing to give her skanky ass the time of day. Her biggest mistake was saying shit about Shadow and Quinn’s little girl, Macy, within hearing distance of Rose. I fired her on the spot, but Rose took out the trash. Pretty sure she left the place missing some hair, and with a black eye when Rose was finished with her.

Bullet was pissed that Rose could have hurt herself. But he agreed it needed to be done, and she was the best choice to do it. None of us will hurt a woman, but to hear that bitch talking shit about a six-year-old girl she only ever saw once in her life was the last fucking straw. Although that leaves us in a bind, we’ll figure it out. If I have to, I’ll call up Ember Rose and Ash Lincoln to borrow one of their people temporarily. First, I’ll have Cryos put out an ad and see what we can drum up. It’s a Monday night, so we won’t be too busy for a few days so we should be able to get through without too much of a problem. And there’s no point in bitching, because there’s too much work to do.

I head down the hall to the main room. Most of the tables are empty, but the majority of the stools are full with our regulars. There’s a group of local businessmen in one of the booths, but they’re not paying the least bit of attention to anyone around them, so I ignore them as I head for the bar. Behind it is Sandy, a newer bartender we hired a couple months ago, who seems to be holding her own with no issue.

In her late thirties, the woman is no nonsense, but has skills of someone who could work in those fancy clubs anywhere in the city. Recently divorced, with one kid in college, she’s made it clear she likes it here and isn’t going anywhere. The regulars like her. She’s just the right amount of firm and good-naturedness that they don’t get too upset if she cuts them off and sends them home in a cab when they’ve gone over their limit. She’s a good-looking woman with generous curves, doe brown eyes, and a thick head of dark brown hair, which earns her decent tips. When she first started, she suggested that she was available for some no-strings attached fun, but I shut that down firmly, albeit gently. I don’t shit where I eat, especially with employees. She took it all in good stride and has never brought it up again. Now we have a good working relationship, and that’s where I’m happy for it to stay.

I walk behind the bar, and she catches my eye, then heads my way after dropping off another beer to one of the men at the other end. “He’s gone, huh?” she asks me when she stops at the register where I meet her. “Saw Kaleb walking him out, and the kid looked like he wanted to shit his pants and cry at the same time.”

“He stole keys from my office and used them to steal money from the till last night,” I tell her tightly. “Didn’t even try to deny it. Had the balls to blame me for leaving the door open and the keys on the desk.”

Sandy snorts. “No wonder he looked like that when he left. He probably thought you were going to murder him and bury him in a shallow grave.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter darkly. There are few things I tolerate, and stealing from our club isn’t one of them. And being VP, I take my responsibilities seriously. “So we’re going to be down for a few days until we can get someone else in here.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Sandy offers. “Friend of mine has a daughter that just moved into town and is looking for work. She’s got experience. Want me to give her a call?”

“You know anything about her?” I ask. I’m not about to hire anyone, no matter how desperately we need people.

“She’s a good girl and has worked in some fancy club in Las Vegas for a while. She just got out of an abusive relationship, so she needs a fresh start. I don’t know if she’s any good at bartending, but at least she can help out until we find someone else, and she can serve.”

I nod. “Alright, give her a call and see if she can come in tomorrow. If she’s interested, we’ll give her a trial run.”

Sandy smiles. “Thanks, Sniper. If you’ll cover the bar, I’ll call her now.”

I nod and move around her as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and heads into the kitchen to make the call. I glance around the bar and see that as always, she’s kept it clean and well stocked, so there isn’t much that needs to be done other than to wash a few glasses. I set to work on that, keeping an eye on everyone’s drinks. Most ignore me, either too intimidated to talk to me, or more interested in talking to each other. Both are fine with me. I’m not one for talking to people if I don’t have to. I save any talking for my brothers.

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