Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC): Vegas Titans Series by Celia Loren Page A

doing
here? You’re supposed to be at the safe-house.”
    The newcomer jumps off his bike, rips off his helmet and
sprints toward Dominic with urgency. “Prez, you’re not gonna like this. There
is no safe house. Not long after you left, we got a call from River to divert
the rescues from the Depraved Club somewhere else—somewhere safe. I said, what
the fuck do you mean safe, that’s why we have the safe house? Then River says,
you had a safe house. The safe house is gone. So I sent the van to the
clubhouse and went to investigate. It’s burned to the ground, Prez. The
safe-house is burned to the fucking ground. Somehow Colt found it and showed up
with a handful of thugs and Molotov cocktails.”
    Dominic’s face blanches. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls.
“How the fuck is that possible? How’d he find out about the safe house? That’s
a completely civilian operation.”
    “I don’t know,” Grindhouse gasps. “No fucking clue. But
Prez, we gotta get back. Right now.”
    “Yeah no shit.” Dominic turns and squints toward the porch,
where Stout is watching us with crossed arms. “Stout,” Dominic shouts, his
voice cutting above the crowd, “Thanks for your hospitality.”
    Stout nods. “Don’t mention it.”
    Dominic turns and sweeps his gaze over the crowd. “Brothers,
you heard what Grindhouse just told me and this proves my point. Leviathan just
burned down our safe house, something we’ve been funding secretly on the side
but has nothing to do with MC profits. They’re striking at our heart, again,
and no territory is safe. First Heath and now this—it’s only a matter of time
before it happens to you all. I’ve got to cut the summit short and go protect
my fucking home. I hope this will only strengthen the words we’ve spoken
tonight into a resolve to stick together and kill these motherfuckers dead. The
Depraved Club cannot be ignored. Our way of life must survive. Sons of Lucifer,
saddle up!”
    The laughter and lightness of the race are gone. Sober faced
men raise their fists in the air, or toast with their mugs of moonshine. But
the whole group is silent as Dominic and the familiar faces of the men that
came with us from Las Vegas walk to their bikes.
    Though part of me wants to melt and disappear into the crowd
and hide from everyone, the larger part of me walks toward Dominic.
    He doesn’t even need to grab my wrist this time. For some
reason, I hop on the back of his bike of my own free will.

 
    Chapter Seven

    Harper
     
     
    By the time we get back to the city, deep, weary exhaustion is
sinking into my bones and the yellow winter sun is beginning to rise. It’s cold
now, but soon it will be hot. The desert is harsh, all times of the year. Still,
I feel myself clinging closer to Dominic for warmth.
    I’ve been awake for god knows how long, riding a Harley back
and forth on highways all night clinging on for dear life to a frightening, angry-as-hell
Dominic Thorne.
    One minute, I’m thinking of the odd moment after the midnight
motorcycle race where his lips touched mine and awakened all the feelings and
important words I left unsaid ten years ago. That moment didn’t feel wrong, and
neither did his kiss.
    How the hell is that possible?
    Because the next minute, I’m remembering that Dominic’s in
charge of the biker gang that I saw kill a bunch of people at the Depraved Club—including
Danny. Sure, the people they killed there were definitely bad people: sex
traffickers, criminals, and pedophiles. The Depraved Club they ransacked was dark
and sinister, something that should be destroyed…something evil.
    But then, wasn’t Dominic’s violence just as bad? Isn’t it
wrong to kill—no matter what?
    My world is totally, completely upside-down. I don’t
understand how this is has all happened: how my safe, pampered, predictable
life has suddenly derailed and left me helpless in Dominic’s hands. Big, rough
hands. Hands that I stare at over his shoulders, gripped around