Page 14 of Azrael

I just hoped I wouldn’t end up letting her down.Or worse, dragging her into the kind of darkness that surrounded me like a shroud.

* * *

The Devil’s Boneyard clubhouse was alive with the usual activity when I pulled up with Zara on the back of my bike.Brothers milled around outside, some smoking, others working on bikes in the fading light.A few of them straightened when they saw me, eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar woman.I killed the engine and turned to Zara, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of so many patched members in one place.

“Stay close to me,” I told her.“Don’t make eye contact unless someone speaks to you directly.”

She nodded, her shoulders tensing visibly.“They look… intimidating.”

“That’s the point.”I climbed off the bike and waited for her to join me.“But they won’t hurt you.At least, the men won’t.”

I placed my hand at the small of her back as we approached the clubhouse, a gesture that wouldn’t be lost on my brothers.It was a clear signal -- this woman was under my protection, at least for now.Several nodded in acknowledgment as we passed, though I could feel their curious gazes following us.

The clubhouse doors swung open.Music played from speakers mounted in the corners, not loud enough to drown conversation but sufficient to provide privacy for those who wanted it.

“Azrael,” a voice called from behind the bar.One of the Prospects, a young guy who’d been hanging around for about six months.Earnest, but green as hell.“President’s waiting for you in Church.Said to bring your… guest.”

I nodded and guided Zara through the room, aware of the conversations that quieted as we passed, the speculative glances that followed us.The women were more obvious in their scrutiny, several of them whispering behind their hands.Club women always knew when something was off -- when a new female entered their territory.And they sure as fuck didn’t like the idea someone might snatch a patch from their hands.Not that any of them had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting claimed by us.

At the back of the main room, a heavy wooden door marked the entrance to our meeting room -- what we called Church.I stopped and turned to Zara.

“Wait here,” I said, gesturing to a chair outside the door.“This meeting is members only, unless Charming says otherwise.”

“But didn’t he say to bring me?”she asked.

“Until I hear it from his lips that he wants you in the room, wait here.He may just want you close by.”

Fear flickered across her face.“What if someone --”

“No one will bother you.”I caught the eye of the same Prospect who’d spoken to us earlier.“Hey.Make sure she’s comfortable.Get her something to drink.Non-alcoholic.”

The Prospect straightened.“Yes, sir.”

I gave Zara’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then pushed open the door to Church and stepped inside.

The room fell silent as I entered.Around the long wooden table sat the core members of the Devil’s Boneyard MC.At the head, Charming watched me with measured eyes, his silver-streaked hair and face reflecting the decades he’d spent leading the club.To his right, Havoc -- our Sergeant-at-Arms -- sat with his massive arms crossed over his chest, his red hair now more white than copper, but his blue eyes as sharp as ever.Beside him was Renegade, our Road Captain, his expression unreadable beneath his graying beard.

Other brothers filled the remaining seats -- men I’d ridden with for years, men whose blood had mixed with mine on more than one occasion.They all watched me with varying degrees of curiosity and concern.

“Azrael,” Charming said, gesturing to an empty chair.“Sit.Tell us what’s so urgent it couldn’t wait.I know you gave me the basics last night but get all of us up to speed.Depending on how this goes, we’ll call in the others.”

I took my seat but didn’t relax into it.“There’s a woman outside.Zara Colton.Her mother’s been missing for several days.Signs of abduction.Police don’t seem interested in pursuing it.”

“And this concerns us how?”one of the brothers asked from farther down the table.

I fixed him with a hard stare.“Her mother helps at a community center for immigrant women.Helps them adjust to life here, navigate the system.She’s spent years helping women escape bad situations.Sound fucking familiar?”

“One of ours?”Havoc asked, leaning forward.

I shook my head.“No.But she knows about us -- about what we do for women in trouble.Or at least, she knows about me.She’s told her daughter stories about the ‘avenging angel’ who helps women when they have nowhere else to turn.Seems the other ladies at the center know about me too.”

A murmur ran around the table.Our reputation in certain circles was something we cultivated carefully -- we wanted the right people to know they could come to us for help, but we kept a low profile with law enforcement and rival organizations.

“The cops?”Renegade asked, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest.“You said they aren’t doing anything?”

“Took a report.Suggested she might have run off with a man or be on a bender.”I snorted.“Standard bullshit.They’re not looking.”

Havoc’s fist came down hard on the table, making several brothers jump.“Fucking typical,” he growled.“Woman goes missing, they don’t give a shit unless she’s rich or connected.”

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