Tempted by the Devil: Highway Titans MC Read online

  They rolled to a stop again, over to another random, anonymous bar a few miles away from the first. Ben jumped off the bike without saying a word and Charlotte followed, a spot of fear spreading rapidly across her chest.

  This time, Ben didn’t bark at her to stay outside. There was no pack of working girls waiting to entertain her, so she just followed him in a few paces behind. She wasn’t sure if he noticed, but she decided to keep going until he told her to stop.

  Charlotte stepped inside after Ben, walking into the huge cloud of smoke that filled the bar. Even now, at a little after noon, the bar was packed, bodies crowded into the tiny stools that lined the walls.

  Somebody whistled on the opposite side of the bar, causing Charlotte to tear her gaze away from Ben to find the source. There was an older guy, pudgy and short, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He stared right at her, a glint of desire in his eyes. When she didn’t look away immediately, he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth to speak. “Hey, there, fancy lady. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Um, uh,” Charlotte stuttered. Come on, she dealt with convicts all the time. It wasn’t okay for her to get tripped up and embarrassed by a random biker. “I’m with him,” she finally said, pointing to Ben’s back while he talked with another man.

  “Mm, doesn’t look like he’s paying you enough attention, darlin’,” the guy shot back, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and sucking hard.

  She should have just let it go, ignored him, and kept walking. But for some reason this guy really rankled her. Was this how all the bikers talked to women, like walking pieces of meat available for public consumption? That was simply unacceptable. “You know, you might want to try a more respectful tone when you’re addressing people, especially women you’ve just met,” she said, trying to keep a snarl off her face. “You might get a lot farther with ladies if you actually treated them like, you know, people.”

  The guy’s smirk fell off his face. “Oy, Benny!” he yelled, making Ben turn around, an annoyed expression on his face at being interrupted. “Your little slut is getting real mouthy.”

  Charlotte’s entire body flushed, and she opened her mouth, poised to attack verbally. How would you know anything about sluts? It’s not like you’ve ever touched a woman who was actually into it, she prepared to say, but before she could get the first word out, she was shoved out of the way, just enough to put a few extra feet in between her and the rude asshole across the bar.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Ben spat, getting in the guy’s face.

  The biker immediately paled and put his cigarette out. “Hey, listen, man, we were just having a good time. Messing around, you know.”

  Ben grabbed the guy by his jacket collar, holding him up against the wall of the bar. “I fucking heard you, Ryan. You don’t talk like that to her, ever. Or I will have your tiny little shriveled balls in a jar, just for me to laugh at. You fucking got me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. It’s whatever,” Ryan said in a rush, his face turning beet red.

  “Say it,” Ben said between clenched teeth. “Say you fucking heard me.”

  “I fucking heard you!” Ryan yelled. Even from across the bar, Charlotte could see him trembling. She almost felt sorry for the guy.

  Charlotte walked over and gently placed a hand on Ben’s elbow, applying soft, soothing touches. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” she said in a soft tone of voice. “I think he got the message.”

  Ben shoved Ryan hard against the wall one more time before letting go. “You better fucking remember for next time,” he grunted before turning and walking away. After a second he turned to yell over his shoulder, “Yo! We’re heading upstairs, Howard. Come on if you’re coming.”

  “Okay!” Charlotte said, but she couldn’t help but stare at the gross biker a little more, smirking at him. She savored the victory over him for a second before turning to walk away, a new spring in her step. This is what power feels like.

  There was a little inset on the opposite wall, in the far corner of the bar behind the bartender. Ben scaled the steps two at a time, and Charlotte followed as quickly as possible. She needed to talk to him, to see if he was angered by her mention of Danielle.

  When they leapt up the top of the steps, the room they entered was completely empty. Charlotte was surprised. She had expected a gaggle of bikers, all heavily tattooed and loudly shouting. “Are we the first to arrive?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yeah,” Ben answered. “Well, in a few minutes another club is coming for a trade. But that’s downstairs. I knew this room would be empty. I’m always early, everywhere I go.”

  “And you like to sit up here alone?” she asked, her voice still soft.

  Ben didn’t say anything, but walked over the fridge in the far corner of the room. “You want a drink?”

  “No, I’m okay,” Charlotte said automatically, without thinking.

  “Oh, come on,” Ben responded. “Don’t be boring.”

  Charlotte hesitated, biting down on her lip in anxiety, and her inner voice argued with her. You want to get info out of him, don’t you? “Okay,” Charlotte finally said. “Sure. I’ll take one.” She could drink, she could smoke, she could fuck her clients. All of it was in the name of helping someone. That was good enough for her.

  Ben walked back over with two drinks in hand, giving one over to her. “Drink up.”

  She did as instructed, taking a deep sip of the whiskey he poured her. It was sour and strong, burning her throat as it went down. But she still drank more of it, wanting the pain that came with the tingling in her stomach.

  “You asked me,” Ben began, “about Danielle.”

  “About Laila,” Charlotte corrected.

  “About the two of them,” he said, staring down at her.

  Charlotte took another drink. “Sure. Yeah, that’s accurate,” she admitted. “I just mentioned that I could see why they would be friends. Laila is a good person. I can tell.”

  “Yeah?” Ben said. “You got some fucking sixth sense? You can tell who’s good and who’s not?”

  It was meant as a challenge, but Charlotte met it head-on. “Yeah. Yeah, something like that. I can tell who’s got good intentions, at least.”

  Ben squatted down on the hardwood floor of the attic, and Charlotte followed, staying an inch away from him but still sensing the pulsing of his body at that distance. “And what about me?” he asked in a lowered voice. “What does your superpower say about me?”

  Charlotte paused for a moment, focused on her drink and the way it felt in her stomach, heavy and full and thick. Fear gripped her throat, as hard as a hand might’ve, strangling her for air. “You’re someone who wants to be good, but doesn’t know how,” she finally said, her voice low and steady.

  “And what, you’re going to show me?” Ben asked, his tone sharp and hard as a knife.

  “Maybe,” Charlotte said immediately, refusing to show the fear that kept rising in her stomach. “Maybe, if you’ll let me.”

  Just then, footsteps started on the stairs, and one of the boys in the club, Noah maybe (Charlotte was still learning their names and voices), shouted up, “Yo! Wiseman! You up there?”

  “Yep!” Ben yelled down, quickly sucking down the last few dregs of his whiskey. Charlotte watched his throat work, moving up and down quickly and efficiently. He was like this perfect machine. She just wished she could crack him open and figure out how he worked.

  Ben started toward the stairs again, and Charlotte instinctively got up and followed him, keeping her footsteps light. She was afraid that he would hear her and tell her to fuck off and stay upstairs. If he heard her, he didn’t say anything about it.

  There was a mob of bikers at the foot of the stairs, all waiting for Ben. Charlotte kept to the shadows, slinking along the wall until she found a safe corner to hide in. She assumed that women weren’t allowed in meetings like this, but she wasn’t sure.

  “You got the stuff,
Benny boy?” one of the men in the center of the mob called out, a stout man with lots of facial hair.

  “Of course,” Ben said, but his voice was hard and mean-sounding. She wondered if this was the way he always did business, or if he was mad about what she said about Danielle and Laila.

  “Then show me the goods,” the stout man said.

  Ben sighed loudly and gestured out the front door, where his boys were standing. Charlotte wasn’t sure which guy was which yet, but one of the boys stepped forward into the bar and opened his jacket, revealing a square packet inside his front pocket, encased in thick cardboard.

  “We got a lot more of it back at the club. I’ll send some of the boys back to get it and bring it here, free of charge, but only if you show me the money first,” Ben said.

  The stout man clicked his teeth in annoyance but nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward and opened his jacket to show a thick pile of cash. “That good enough for you?” the stout man asked.

  Ben gave a short nod and gestured to his boys again, who filed quickly out of the bar and back onto their bikes. The stout man stepped forward and clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Charlotte could see Ben’s muscles tense up, and she half-expected him to shrug the guy’s hand off and tell him to fuck off, but instead Ben just allowed it. “Let’s have a drink, huh? Celebrate all the money we’re both making today,” the guy said.

  Fuck. The crowd started moving around Charlotte, heading over to the bar where a cute twenty-something guy was rapidly pouring out shots for everybody in the room. What do I do? Do I just go back upstairs? What if they didn’t realize I was here the whole time?

  But then the stout man yelled out, “What does your girl drink, Benny?” Charlotte felt her body stiffen up in anxiety then relax a second later. They knew. It was okay. She wasn’t about to be beaten up by a biker gang. Inwardly, she scolded herself for her fear. How the hell was she going to help Ben if she was terrified of his life? And for that matter, why was she judging these men like they were only criminals, completely consumed by violence and nothing else? She should have known better: Nobody was painted in just black and white. Everyone was made up of grays.

  Charlotte gave a half-smile that she prayed was charming to the group as she approached the bar, slipping into the space that the bikers made for her next to Ben. “I’ll take some gin if you got it,” she said to the bartender.

  “You drink like a rich bitch,” Ben said to her before downing his shot. “Another,” he instructed the bartender.

  She nodded in thanks as the guy handed her some gin a second later. “Well, I’m definitely not rich, but I might be the other thing.”

  Ben shifted on his stool, left to right then back again. “I didn’t mean it like a—like a bad thing,” he finally said, his voice lowered so that she could barely hear him over the hooting and hollering of the bikers.

  “You know, I’m offended,” Charlotte admitted, grinning as she saw Ben’s face fall in worry. Then she continued, “—that you think I care about that. I’m not some prissy thing, you know.”

  Ben smiled then, briefly. “You fucking dress like one, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Charlotte smoothed her hands self-consciously over her dress. “I have to maintain a professional image,” she said as she swallowed half of her gin in one go.

  “Doesn’t it ever get boring, though?” Ben said. “Doing the same thing day after day after day. Don’t you get fucking sick of it?”

  “No,” Charlotte said without thinking. “I mean, I love my job. It’s—” It’s the only thing I have in my life, she thought to herself. “It’s great,” she finally said after a too-long pause.

  “You can’t tell me it doesn’t get boring,” Ben argued back. “Sittin’ in a cramped little office, hearing people boo-hoo about their pathetic little lives. You don’t get tired of it?”

  Charlotte bit her lip in thought before sipping her gin slowly, buying herself time. On one hand, yeah, he was right. It got repetitive as hell, listening to the same issues over and over again. But it was rewarding, helping people find themselves. She didn’t want Ben to think that she was too bored to help him with his problems. But maybe he needs me to agree with him, Charlotte thought, because that’s how he feels about this place. Boring, repetitive, washed-out. “Sometimes,” she said after finishing her gin. It was the truth. “Not all of the time. But sometimes I feel like I could use a change of pace.”

  “Yeah,” Ben murmured, running his fingers along the side of his glass. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “But it doesn’t mean I hate it,” Charlotte added. She was starting to feel a little woozy from the alcohol, her head feeling light and airy. Almost weightless. “It doesn’t mean it’s not for me. It’s the life I chose and I’m committed to it. No matter what.”

  Ben turned to stare at her. “And what, that’s it? Forever? There’s nothing else to hope for?”

  “No, I hope for things. But I know they’ll come in the context of my commitment. Haven’t you ever felt that way about something? Like it’s a part of you, and you don’t know what you would be if it went away?”

  His eyes flicked down to the bar. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I know what that’s like.”

  Charlotte wondered for a second why he suddenly seemed so hurt, before it hit her. Oh, fuck. She found herself stuck at another crossroads: Should she tiptoe around the topic to avoid hurting his feelings? Or should she just charge ahead and see what would happen? Ah, fuck it. “Danielle,” she said, keeping her voice down. She didn’t know how many of the other club’s bikers were listening in. “You felt that way about Danielle.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “Yeah, I did. Except she was never boring. She always kept me guessing.”

  Charlotte felt something burning inside her chest as she pictured Danielle, this evidently perfect, wild woman. Are you seriously jealous of a dead girl? Charlotte asked herself. You’re not even dating this guy. You’re just fucking him. “She sounds really special,” Charlotte said.

  “She was just… She was just a girl who got caught up in the wrong thing. She wasn’t ready for this,” he replied softly, still not looking directly at Charlotte.

  “Ben,” Charlotte said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, hoping he would let her do it like he allowed the other gang leader. “Ben, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. It wasn’t your fault.”

  He just shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? Anything else.”

  Charlotte resisted the urge to keep pushing the subject. “Okay. What would you like to talk about?”

  Ben opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off. “Excuse you,” one of the bikers grunted, shoving into Ben’s shoulder as he walked past the bar.

  Charlotte saw Ben grit his teeth in anger, and for a second she was worried that he was going to leap up and start punching the guy like she’d seen him do the first night they met, but instead he only clenched his fists.

  “What was that about?” Charlotte asked.

  “Fucking loser,” Ben muttered. “I kicked his ass a few times last month and he’s still fucking whiny about it, apparently.”

  “What did he do to deserve it?” Charlotte asked.

  “He was annoying,” Ben said, shrugging, as if that explained it all away. Charlotte sighed deeply, preparing to launch into a lecture as to why unprovoked violence was wrong.

  But just then, the roar of motorcycles washed over the bar, and a half-minute later Ben’s boys walked back in, carrying huge parcels in front of them. The other bikers cheered in response, hopping off of their bar stools to open the parcels and check the contents within. Jesus Christ, what am I doing? Charlotte thought. I’m here witnessing a drug deal and I’m just letting it happen. But despite everything, all of her professional acumen, all of her ethics, she felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. She’d seen her clients and parolees high before, of course, but she’d never been in the sam
e room with drugs. It was almost like seeing a unicorn. She felt her heartbeat pick up its pace, and not just out of nervousness.

  Ben leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You want some?”

  Charlotte reared back, her heart now pounding in her ears. “Are you serious?”

  His expression changed all of a sudden, melting from teasing to serious. “No. I’m not gonna give you any of that shit.”

  “Oh, I, um—I wouldn’t want any, anyway,” Charlotte rushed to say. “I don’t—I don’t do that kind of thing.”

  “That’s what everybody says,” Ben said, and his voice sounded sad, but he turned to face the biker leader again, leaving Charlotte to just wonder where the hell she’d gone wrong again.

  “We can get more for you in a month if you need it, at the same price. Just let me know,” Ben said, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the bikers grab packets and cheer.