Page 4 of Craved By Gray

Gray

Hazel eyes, black hair the color of charcoal, and a body made to inspire dreams. Fuck, I haven’t stopped thinking about her for days. I had every intention of getting closer to her that evening at the club, but there was always someone getting between us. The club’s president, Saint, wanted to talk about my plans to infiltrate the Chrome Vipers, Axel wanted to catch up on club business and the new car he was working on in his garage, and just about every other guy had one thing or another to ask me about. When I finally managed to break away, she was gone.

It’s probably for the best. That girl was a…distraction. Still is.

I should be thinking about how I’m going to get the Vipers to trust me with access to their inner circle, but here I am distracted by thoughts of the friend Brooke brought to the club cookout. Maybe after I’m done with business, I’ll find her and see if there’s chemistry between us, or if I imagined it all in my head.

With a shake of my head, I turn to look at the Viper’s clubhouse, a hulking four-story building that sits nestled between other, newer buildings. It’s not rundown like one might expect of such an old building owned by the city’s worstcriminals. No, it’s polished. Almost too polished considering the filth it houses. There is a logo on the front doors, a hissing snake in front of a pair of crossed pistols.

I sigh, approaching the steel doors, and the larger of the two men guarding them suddenly steps forward, his eyes narrowed on me. “Who the fuck are you?”

It’s a real battle hiding my distaste for the Vipers. I’ve worked as a spy for the Rebels for years, easily blending in with whatever group I was sent to spy on, but none have been as vile as the Vipers. Most people who dabble in crime rarely touch the filth these men deal with. Trafficking women from a moral standpoint is disgusting, but these assholes don’t bother with morals of any kind, rather simply what benefits them. And human trafficking is a profitable business if you can stomach it. That it’s their core source of profit is proof enough that the Chrome Vipers are soulless cretins.

A few months back, Saint’s fiancée was nearly sold off to some sick fuckers, and I’m here to find out if the Vipers were behind the auction she was forced into. I just need proof that they were responsible, and then we’ll bring them all down. We all know it was them, but one of the things I admire most about my MC’s president is that he won’t act without evidence.

“Pete Brehmer here for Stone,” I tell the man, using the fake name I created for this mission. “He’s expecting me.”

The man’s features relax a bit as he nods. “You’re early. He’ll like that. Stone doesn’t like wasting time.”

“I’m all about making great first impressions,” I say, but the man simply nods again, pushing the heavy steel door open, the clang echoing through what appears like a cavernous space. The man turns to ask me to follow him before disappearing inside.

The air inside is thick with the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke, not unlike our own club on a casual Wednesday. Except Saint would kill anyone who dared smoke inside the building. We pass by the pool tables where some men have stopped playing to stare me down. The man leads me through a sea of leather-clad figures with tattoos and scowling faces, their eyes following our every move. I am guided to a narrow staircase, and the smell of smoke is less intense as we climb to the top floor.

“It’s the last door at the end of the hall,” the man says pointing at an imposing door made of solid oak with a brass nameplate that reads: President.

“Thanks, man,” I say, inserting a little shakiness into my voice before running my palms over my jeans in a show of nerves, and it has the effect I was hoping for. The man buys it as he claps my shoulder, and his guard drops as I expected it to. “I’ve heard so much about Stone. The gang I was in before has nothing on the Vipers. I need to be in a place that does real shit, you know what I mean? I just hope Stone takes me in.”

I wait for him to bite on the bait, and the fucker carelessly does as he looks around to make sure there’s no one nearby before leaning closer. “We’ve run into a little trouble with those fucking Rebels, but you made the right choice coming here. You just have to earn Stone’s trust; fucking brownie points if you shit-talk the Rebels. He hates their fucking guts. Moreso now than ever.”

I feign confusion. “Why would a man like Stone care about those nobodies?”

There is a guarded look in his eyes that tells me he’s not going to reveal more than he already has. “Stick around, and you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

Oh, I plan to.

I’ll stick around alright, and if I find out that these fuckers are responsible for the human auction that affected so many women, including one of our own, then I’ll help bury every one of them.

I adjust my expression before approaching the massive door, knocking once. A loud booming “Enter!” comes from inside, so I turn the knob before walking into the massive office. Behind a large mahogany desk is a man I’ve only seen on paper.

William Reid, best known as Stone, is the president of the Chrome Vipers, and a man the cops have never been able to pin anything on. He hides well, covering his trace without leaving so much as breadcrumbs behind.

“Mr. Stone, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, going to the man and extending my hand. “My name is Pete Brehmer.”

The large man’s green-brown eyes narrow on mine as he shakes my hand. I’m hit with a sudden sense that I’ve seen this man before, though I know I haven’t. But the feeling is strong enough to rattle me, and I nearly miss Stone’s response.

“That’s a shit name. You’ll need to get a new one if we accept you into the club.”

“Of course. My parents obviously hated me or else they would never have given me such a weak-ass name.”

The man’s guard drops as he laughs, pointing at the seat across from his. “Sit,” he grunts, leaning back in his own to stare me down in a look I assume is supposed to intimidate me. It doesn’t, but I have a role to play, so I clear my throat for show before meeting the man’s stare head on.

“I’ve wanted to join the Viper for years, Mr. Stone.”

“So why now?”

“I want more,” I grind out, my eyes flashing with passion. “I’m tired of riding around town with people who lack ambition. Robbing tourists and hitting on bitches is not exactly what I want to waste my time on. I’m ready to do anything to make it to the top. I want to be a Viper.”

The man studies me for a moment, and in those couple of seconds, I question if perhaps I was laying it on a little too thick, but finally, he speaks. “I will not beat around the bush. We make it a business to do our research on everyone who walks through those doors, but we couldn’t find a whole lot about you, Pete.”

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