Page 47 of Devils Cut

"Sometimes old cars just catch on fire," Danny said, over the phone. "Ignition gets stuck on, alternator overheats, and boom."

I frowned, thinking about the implications. If the car had just randomly combusted, we wouldn't have much to worry about. But if someone had torched it…

"However," Danny continued, "the fire looks like it started somewhere near the back, far away from the engine bay."

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. This wasn't good. Not good at all. We had enemies, sure, but who would be bold enough to pull shit like this? My thoughts raced, trying to piece together any recent events that could have triggered an attack.

"Thanks for checking it out, Danny," I said, hanging up the phone.

The clock ticked away at 4:30, and I was drowning in a sea of paperwork that threatened to consume me. Sighing, I pushed myself up from my desk and rubbed the tension from the back of my neck.

"Fuck this," I muttered, needing a break. The weight of Danny's news still bore down on me, but right now, all I wanted was to hear Tempest's voice. Something about it soothed the storm brewing inside me, even if only for a moment.

I made my way to the bar, the scent of booze and smoke filling my nostrils. Neon lights flickered overhead as I took a seat right at the front of the stage, the worn leather of the chair creaking beneath me. The anticipation tightened in my chest, like a coiled snake ready to strike.

I glanced up to see Amanda walking over, placing a whiskey in front of me like she could read my fucking mind. The golden liquid shimmered under the dim bar lights.

"Thanks, Amanda," I muttered, lifting the glass to my lips. My eyes found Tempest across the room, tending to customers with an easy smile. She caught my gaze and waved, her dark hair framing her face like a halo. I winked back, feeling that familiar tug in my chest.

"Corvus, man," Hammer's voice boomed from behind, followed by Trey's laughter. They swaggered over, their boots thudding against the worn floorboards.

"Hey," I grunted, shifting over to make room for them.

I took a sip of my whiskey, the burn in my throat grounding me. Tempest's eyes were a constant pull, dragging my gaze back to her behind the bar.

"Hey," Trey leaned in, his voice cutting through the noise. "Have you spoken to Tracey about the new blood she's vetting for the clubhouse?"

I shook my head, taking another deep swallow. "No, haven't had a chance. Why?"

Trey smirked, glancing toward the back bar where Emily and Amy struggled to keep up with orders. "Some of them are perfect. And we need to replace Lisa back there. The girls are swamped, and since Lisa's gone, they're being deadly quiet."

I followed his gaze, seeing the frustration on their faces. "Yeah," I agreed, grinding my teeth.

"Tracey better find someone soon," Hammer chimed in, his eyes narrowing. "We don't need any weak links."

"True." My mind raced, considering the implications of bringing in someone new.

I eyed Trey, weighing my options. "Do I need to take them off the bar now? Or do we wait for Tracey to vet what we have first?"

"Vet," Hammer chimed in, his voice like gravel. "We don't wanna put trash on the bar. The trash can stay at the clubhouse."

I nodded, knowing he had a point. "I agree." My gaze drifted back to the girls behind the bar.

"Okay, your call, VP," Trey said, shrugging, but his eyes didn't leave mine.

I glanced at my watch, the seconds ticking away, counting down to five o'clock. The anticipation buzzed in my veins, knowing that soon Tempest would take the stage again.

"Showtime," I whispered, catching her eye from across the room.

"Get up there, princess," I called out, whistling and pointing to the stage. She finished serving Billy, the sorry bastard keeping his head down since I taught him a lesson, and sauntered over to me. Standing up, I pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, tasting the promise of something real. The bar fell silent as she took to the stage.

Her voice filled the air, weaving a slow, twisted version of ABBA's "Mamma Mia" that had the hairs on my neck standing up. Goddamn, her voice was intoxicating.

The moment she finished, the crowd erupted in cheers, unable to contain their appreciation for the siren among us. She stepped off the stage and straight into my waiting arms.

"Y'know, if bartending ever falls through for you," I murmured into her ear, "we could always hire you out as the person who makes the scary music in horror movies, princess."

She frowned, pulling back to look at me. "Why?"

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