Page 4 of Crush's Fall

When they finally pulled Lucifer out of that fucking van hours later, everything hurt. His arms were aching from lack of movement. His ass hurt from sitting on the hard metal floor for hours. His balls ached from all the thoughts about the fucking badass goddess who cuffed him in the first place. Lucifer was happy to walk around. The walking eased the ache in most places, except at his crotch. There were only a couple of ways to ease that, and walking wasn’t one of them.

The driver, the cute woman with long curly brown hair and observant hazel eyes, nodded to the crazy-looking man who had walked up and dragged Lucifer out. He heard someone say something about her being a part-time enforcer for her club. That boggled his mind. She was thin and fit, but he couldn’t see her being too much of a danger. Now, the crazy-looking one with the long, wild hair sticking out everywhere and the unkempt beard? Lucifer would know he was an enforcer to the Howlers, even if he hadn’t been wearing a patch that identified him as such.

“Who was she?” Lucifer watched as the woman walked away and around the corner of the building.

“Nails. And don’t even think about it. You’re not really her type, anyway.”

When he was done speaking, one of the other men from the attack on the clubhouse approached. His cut said his name was Ranger. He had long, dark hair, and his eyes seemed to be constantly amused.

The two men led him over to a door in the building they stopped next to. He assumed they were in the back, because the only thing he saw was a stretch of parking lot surrounded by a tall chain-link fence with trees beyond it. Looking from side to side, he caught glimpses of other buildings, but he couldn’t tell what they were.

Once inside, they brought him down to the basement and into a room that had not only a normal door but also a door made up of bars, like the door to a jail cell. Without a word, he was checked over for weapons before the wild, crazy-looking one pressed him into a chair, with more force than was necessary, and tied his hands behind his back. After that, the crazy one tied Lucifer’s ankles to the legs of the metal chair he was in, like he was going to get up and try to go anywhere. If he tried, they’d just run him down, so why bother?

“Get comfortable,” Ranger ordered with an evil grin, the man who had the rope and advised Lucifer to watch himself around the badass goddess. “Pres will be down when he’s good and ready. Could be awhile.”

“What about Sugartits? When will she be down?”

Lucifer thought he heard a growl come from the crazy one, but that could have been his imagination. Then the rope dude gave a humorless laugh, looked over at the crazy looking one, and commented, “Yeah, he won’t make it long.”

Crush

It wasn’t as if Crush brought the man to the compound and just let him roam free. She rolled her eyes as Axle continued to pace and bitch and moan about having a Hell’s Dogs member on their property when they could have just killed him and been done with it.

Crush hadn’t told Axle that Lucifer was her mate. She had yet to accept it herself. She hadn’t discounted killing him and wasn’t even completely sure why she saved him to begin with. Yes, he was her mate, but he was also involved with the Hell’s Dogs. Maybe it was because he was a prospect with the HDMC until the day of the ambush. Maybe it was because he was the last member of the HDMC Indiana chapter alive, and the last chance they had to get any information about the club’s plans. She didn’t know, or she wasn’t ready to admit the reason to herself, but she had followed her gut and didn’t regret the decision.

“Are you fucking listening to me,” Axle bellowed from where he had stopped pacing to glare at her.

Leaning back against the wall next to his office door, Crush crossed her arms over her chest and met his stare with her own. “Not really,” she answered honestly, shrugging.

She wanted to laugh at his anger, which had reddened his face and caused his eyes to flash silver light, a sign that his anger was at the edge of explosive. She wasn’t worried about it. Axle had enough control to pull himself back. Besides, she could hold her own. It would be an interesting fight — wolf versus tiger. In nature, the tiger would take the win. When dealing with shifters, though, things weren’t so cut and dry.

After he took a few calming breaths, Axle rested his hands on his hips and quietly asked, “What’s going on?”

When she just stared back at him, Axle threw up his hands in irritation and huffed out a breath.

“I can’t believe I have to even say this, but… Crush, whatever you say to me stays with me. Consider it courtesy from one president to another, as well as what friends do for each other. Please,tell me what’s going on.”

Crush dropped her gaze to her feet and sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but he was right. If she expected him to give her time to figure things out and expected him to back her decisions, she needed to give him the information.

“Whatever it is… I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”

“He’s my mate,” she said in a voice so quiet a full human wouldn’t be able to hear her.

Axle’s sigh was deep, indicating he understood the gravity of the situation. “Okay. Do we know how involved he was with the Hell’s Dogs BS?”

She shook her head and lifted her gaze again. “I haven’t had the time to talk to him, really. I don’t know if I should be the one. I mean… if he was… if he has to die, I don’t want to get too… attached.”

Every word was painful, like they were yanked directly from her soul. She wasn’t used to showing vulnerabilities. She was the cold-hearted bitch men were afraid of. She didn’t have emotions or weaknesses. The last time she showed that side of herself to Axle, he rejected her. Crush didn’t blame him for that. It just made trusting others even harder than it already was for her. Showing him that side of her again sent panic through her system that she had to push down below the confusion and tension from finding her mate in the enemy’s clubhouse.

She dropped her gaze again, but the toes of Axle’s boots showed up in her view after a few moments.

“Crush,” he said, softly, before he used his knuckle to make her lift her head and look at him. The look in his eyes wasn’t the pity she expected. It was filled with understanding and support. “You’re already attached. Your tiger did that for you. We won’t do anything until we know who he is and what he’s about.” He dropped his hand, but held her gaze. “I have to believe that if he’s your mate, he has to be redeemable. I have to warn you, though, I can’t say the entirety of your club or mine are going to be so optimistic.”

She swallowed hard and nodded, fully aware of how her club would react, at least initially. “I can’t control the fact that he’s my mate, but I’ll deal with my club.”

“I’ll back you with the Howlers.”

“Thanks,” she bit out. She couldn’t talk about it anymore. She’d had enough.

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