Page 3 of Diablo

The woman’s gaze took in each scar. Was it my imagination or did she stare longer than necessary? I couldn’t tell and after a moment or two more, I shoved my shirt down again.

The clubhouse went dead silent. Without a word, the Alpha Riders rose to their feet. They shifted forward, creating a wall of muscled and tattooed bodies, shielding their families from the Desert Howlers.

“That’s why we’re here,” the woman said. “I’m Stevie. This is our new President, Lloyd. The man who stabbed you—Acosta—he overthrew the club. Pitted brother against brother and destroyed the bonds that we had built together in favor of claiming power for himself.”

“And you let it happen,” I countered. “It’s called shitty leadership, sugar tits.”

Behind Stevie, the hulking figure of a barrel-chested beast emerged. His blue eyes were sharp and menacing, his jaw clenched tight.

“Mind the rank you’re speaking to, Prospect,” he growled. “Show a little respect.”

I glanced at Stevie. On her shoulder, below the Desert Howler patch, was a second patch to display her rank. Vice President.

I huffed a dry laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Sleep your way up the ranks, princess?”

In the span of a single heartbeat, the beast had me pinned by the throat against the bar. He wrapped his fingers around my windpipe and squeezed. Axel and Mack scrambled to pry him off.

“Tarzan, enough!” Stevie barked.

Baring his teeth, Tarzan reluctantly released me. I sucked in a desperate gulp of air. My throat was raw, tender, and my back felt bruised after my spine had been shoved into the edge of the bar.

“Looks like you left a few broken hearts behind,” I rasped. “That’s what happens when you open your legs, sweetheart. Men get dumb and territorial.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Tarzan snapped, jabbing a finger in my direction.

Even though Stevie was barely over five feet tall, she still shoved Tarzan back into line, speaking in urgent, hushed tones that I couldn’t make out.

“Do you let your Prospect do all the talking for you?” Lloyd asked. His words were slow and measured despite the adrenaline and tension in the room.

“Only when he has a point,” Brewer said. “A member of your club did nearly kill Diablo.”

“Getting stabbed has a tendency to fuck up your trust a little bit,” I put in.

Lloyd sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“My club has been scrubbed from head to toe. New officers have been appointed to replace those who failed to prevent Acosta’s coup. Anyone who participated in overthrowing the club is no longer associated with our members.”

I crossed my arms. “Bullshit.”

Stevie shot a sideways glance in my direction.

“We came to offer peace.”

I snorted and pointed at Tarzan who looked like he wanted to rip my arms off.

“Did you tell him that?”

Tarzan frowned. “You never stop talking, do you?”

“No,” Mack, Axel, and I said at the same time.

Then I felt the weight of Brewer’s hand on my shoulder—partly a sign of support for the Prospect, partly a show of solidarity from the President, but mostly an attempt to wrangle me under control.

“We will not be accepting your offer of peace at this time,” Brewer said.

Lloyd made a small noise of understanding.

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