Circle of Death (12 page)

The evening is beginning to descend as I slip into some of the new clothes Devlin has provided for my stay. It’ll be hours before tonight’s party begins, so I shuck on a casual yellow slip dress and some white flats. My hair hangs loose over my shoulders, and I apply a light coat of makeup to polish off my look. Maybe I can jot some notes down on my brand new computer before the night really kicks off—start thinking about my angle for this piece.

I’m just about to sit down at my desk when I hear a knock at the door. I go to answer it, wondering if Devlin’s ordered me up some room service, or something. I am starting to feel a little hungry, after a long day of cucumber water and not much else. I swing open the door, praying for a piping hot meal to be waiting for me on the other side.

The sight that actually confronts me is far less welcome.

“Hey Sis,” Juliet says, keeping her arms crossed firmly across her chest. She stands in my doorway wearing a black halter-top, super low-rise jeans, and a Circle of Death cut of her very own. “Thought I’d come check on you. Make sure you’re still alive and everything.”

“How thoughtful,” I say flatly, planting a hand on my hip. In my bright, sunny dress and white sneakers, I look like the good girl to Juliet’s evil twin.

“Listen. Can we take a walk or something? I want to talk to you,” my sister presses. “I’m assuming your...um...keeper is asleep?”

“Devlin’s sleeping next door, yeah,” I tell her, amazed at how casual we’ve taken to acting in the midst of this bonkers situation. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Everything, for starters,” she laughs. “Come on. Let’s enjoy some fresh air before it gets filled up with pot smoke and sex noises.”

Before I can refuse, Juliet grabs my arm and tows me down the hall. My big sister never did learn how to take “no” for an answer, where her proposed adventures are concerned.

Dusk gathers around us as we walk in silence through the dense forest. We step over branches and boulders, streams and brush, each of us trying and failing to break through the awkward lapse in conversation. We have about six years of unspoken words hanging heavily between us, and shaking off the weight isn’t going to be easy. Finally, as we reach a clearing along the rocky shoreline, Juliet turns to me with a sigh.

“Look,” she says, leveling her rich brown eyes at me, “I’m sorry I acted like such a bitch this morning when I found out you were here. You have to understand how totally surprised I was to see you. It was super disorienting, and I got freaked out. I wasn’t prepared for a family reunion, you know?”

“That’s fine,” I reply, averting my gaze to stare off across the water. “I just thought, after all this time, you would have been happy to see me, or something. I wasn’t expecting you to throw me a parade or anything, but—I mean, have you missed me at all, since you left?”

“Of course I’ve missed you. You have to know that,” Juliet says, tossing her silky hair over her shoulder, “And I am happy to see you, Logan. Really, I am. It’s amazing, how much you’ve grown up. It’s just...seeing you here is like having my old life invade the new one I’ve built for myself. It’s like you dragged my entire history to this island with you. All my unresolved shit with Mom and Dad, and the way we were raised...You’re a living reminder of all the things I ran away from. All the things I left behind.”

“Well, of course I am,” I say, my voice cold and even, “I’m one of the things you left behind, after all.”

My sister is silent for a spell, just taking me in. Hot tears prick my eyes, but I do my best to blink them away. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. We’re nowhere near that close, anymore.

“Logan...” she finally says, the harshness in her voice ebbing away. “You know that it wasn’t you I was running from. I never wanted to be apart from you, miss out on so much of your life—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” I cut her off, brushing my angry tears away. “Why didn’t you call, or write, or anything, Juliet? We were so close when we were little. You were my hero. And you abandoned me. Left me to deal with Mom and Dad on my own. Left me without my best friend.”

“If there had been any other way, I would have taken it,” Juliet says urgently, grabbing onto my hands. “But you have to understand, Logan—I had no other choice. I was miserable in that town. In that house. With all of Mom’s rules, her standards, her impossible expectations...I was so depressed, so convinced that I was worthless. Because in her eyes, I was. When I found the motorcycle club, I found acceptance for the first time in my life. No one was trying to change me, force me to be something I wasn’t. The guys accepted me for exactly who I was, and took me in without a second thought. They loved me.”

“But I loved you too,” I whisper, squeezing my sister’s hand. “I loved you more than anyone in the world. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“You’ll see one day,” she smiles sadly, “When you meet someone who understands you, accepts you fully, makes you feel like you’re the most incredible, gorgeous, irreplaceable person on the planet...you won’t be able to live without him either.”

Devlin’s face flashes before my eyes at Juliet’s words. His understanding, his insistence of my value and worth...is that the kind of acceptance she’s talking about?

“Is that what the whole Circle of Death family gave you?” I ask softly.

“Well, one member in particular,” Juliet smiles, sensing my heart warming to her at last. “His name is Packer. The second I started hanging around with the MC, we paired off. There was never any question. He was the first person who just got me, knew what I wanted, what I needed. Just like that. We’ve been together for years, now.”

“So, this Packer. He’s your boyfriend, or...?” I ask, totally unversed in MC terminology as I am. “Sorry, I don’t really know how these things work in your world. I barely even know how dating and shit works in my world.”

“Actually,” Juliet says, taking a deep breath, “Boyfriends and girlfriends aren’t really a thing in the MC life. Most girls who hang around the club are just sweet butts. Like groupies, almost. Any of the guys can sleep with them, party with them, whatever. But if a brother wants to make a girl his own, she becomes his old lady. That means she’s off limits to anyone else. It’s like being a wife, in club terms. And sometimes old ladies become actual wives, too.”

“Wait. Are you...Packer’s actual wife?” I ask, my eyes going wide.

Juliet turns her back to me, and I see the words scrawling across the back of her cut: Property of Packer.

“I am,” she smiles, turning back to face me.

“You’re married?” I ask again, taking a step away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, “I thought you’d be happy about it. It’s such a normal, real-life thing to do—”

“You got married without me there. I wasn’t at your wedding,” I cut her off.

“Well, no...” she allows.

“But we pinky swore that we’d be each other’s maids of honor,” I blurt out, knowing full well that I sound like a ten year old. “We were going to pick out our dresses together, and throw surprise bridal showers...I mean, I wouldn’t want any of that pink, frilly shit now either, but you didn’t even let me know your wedding was happening!”

“If it makes you feel any better, no one was there except for the justice of the peace and a couple of witnesses,” she says. “You didn’t miss much.”

I don’t even know what to say. I have so many questions about Juliet’s life over the past six years. But even if we had much longer than a week to catch up, I’m afraid that the rift between us is just too vast to traverse. Most of the reason I took this assignment was to find my sister, connect with her again. But what if that connection is simply...impossible?

“So...” Juliet says, sitting down on a flat boulder overlooking the sea. “Now that I’ve dropped that bomb on you, do you mind if I ask how the hell it is that you ended up out here?”

My stomach flips over at her question. What, is she reading my mind or something? We were always borderline telepathic when we were little. Does she suspect my ulterior motives for staking out this depraved island paradise, not to mention her new family?

“Um...Well, I heard some girls from my school talking about this place,” I say, sitting down beside her, “And I asked if I could come along. See what it was all about.”

“But you were never into this kind of stuff,” Juliet points out.

“You never knew me past the age of sixteen. You don’t know what I’m into,” I reply.

“Yeah, OK,” she laughs, nudging me softly, “So you’re telling me that my little sister, the straight-A student, mathlete, star of the soccer team, straight-edge good girl suddenly developed a taste of bikers and bedlam?”

“Sure. Why not,” I reply, dodging her question.

“Color me shocked, then,” she shrugs, “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you still don’t seem the type to seek this out.”

“I’m having a pretty good time so far,” I tell her. And that’s not a lie, either. Sure, I never intended to get stuck out here, but now that I’m in the hands of Devlin Vile...I may not mind this whole stranded on an island thing so much after all.

“I just worry that you might get in over your head without even realizing it,” Juliet insists. “I mean, Christ, did you seriously spend the entire night with Dev?”

Again, the mind reading thing is too creepy. “Yeah,” I tell her, pulling my knees into my chest, “Yeah, we hit it off as soon as I got here.”

“You and Devlin Vile hit it off,” she repeats, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Is that so impossible to imagine?” I ask, annoyed by her scrutiny.

“Kind of,” she laughs.

“Why, because I’m not sexy, or interesting, or wild enough to snag him?” I press.

“I’ve known Devlin a long time, Logan,” Juliet says, trying to choose her words wisely. “He’s not exactly the caring, gentle type.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what type of guy he is,” I respond, a bit heatedly.

“Trust me. You don’t,” Juliet insists, “Not after one night. Devlin is one of the most viciously loyal, ruthlessly principled outlaws I’ve ever met in my life. He’s one of my best friends, and I love him like a brother. But he can be fucking dangerous too, Logan. And he’s never been one for keeping the same girl around, night-to-night.”

“You don’t think I can hold his interest?” I demand.

“I don’t think any woman can,” she shrugs.

“Well, what if I told you that he’s promised to look after me for the week?” I shoot back.

“I’d ask you what he’s expecting in return, and whether you’re really willing to give it,” Juliet says pointedly.

My cheeks glow red as I remember my exchange with Devlin earlier today. The terms he laid out for me: A week with him in return for absolute submission.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Juliet goes on, “It’s not every woman who could even keep him for a night, let alone two. Look, if you can’t keep up with him from here on out, or decide you don’t want to, I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

And though I appreciate the offer of goodwill from my sister, the only thing I can think in response to her warning is “challenge accepted”.

“We’ll just have to see how the week goes, I guess,” I tell her, rising to my feet once more. “But don’t write me off just yet, Sis.”

“I get the feeling that would be a mistake,” she smiles, linking arms with me as we make our way back toward the imposing walls of The Club. “Maybe the two of us have more in common than I thought.”

Chapter Eleven

The entire island begins to stir the second the sun sinks down over the horizon. Like a great, powerful beast waking from a deep slumber, The Club wakes up hungry, lusting for every morsel it can sink its lethal claws into. I can only hope that Devlin’s hunger for me is equally fierce tonight.

I give myself a once-over in the darkened window of my bedroom. The tight leather bustier and micro cutoff shorts I’ve picked out are showcasing my curves in all the right ways. Thank God Juliet put on a little weight since I saw her last, or else these clothes would be held on by nothing more than hopes and dreams. I’ve curled and teased my hair into a tumble of thick black curls that cascade down my bare back. Knee-high leather boots and a smoky eye complete the look. Now I just have to hope that Devlin will like the final result as much as I do.

Applying a quick swipe of my signature red lipstick, I take a breath and knock tentatively on his bedroom door.

“Get in here, babe,” I hear him call out.

A thrill runs through my heart as I push through the barrier between our respective spaces. As I enter, Devlin is just shrugging into his leather cut. His black jeans and dark gray tee shirt glance against his perfect muscles, defining the balanced, sleek shape of him. We each stop in our tracks as we catch sight of the other, riveted into stillness.

“Good goddamn,” Devlin whistles, eyes raking along the length of my scantily-clad body. “How the fuck am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you come in here looking like that?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself,” I grin, doing a little spin for his benefit. “Ever think of that?”