Stolen: Hell's Overlords MC

BOOK: Stolen: Hell's Overlords MC
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This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

 

Stolen copyright 2016 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Prologue
 

Sasha

 

 

At 3 a.m. the city streets were finally mostly quiet. I stood in the alleyway between the two supposedly vacant warehouse buildings underneath a light that hadn’t worked in decades. I listened to the sound of the occasional car or truck passing by. This was the lull between night and morning, when the people going home were settling in and the people going to work were just getting up.

 

This was also when the guard stepped away from the door to the room where the stash was kept. It was my chance to climb in through one of the broken windows of the old building and grab my prize. I proceeded carefully, without a sound. I was just another shadow in the darkness.

 

I was taking from the Hell’s Overlords MC, and I was shocked at the lack of security around their drugs. They kept separate stashes in several old buildings throughout the city, usually behind unlocked doors with one or two guards on duty at all times. The problem with live guards, though, was that they took piss breaks and naps. It wasn’t a problem for me, but I was pretty sure Cole Masterson, the president of the MC, wasn’t too thrilled about how much heroin I’d lifted over the last six months from his essentially unguarded stashes.

 

There wasn’t much light inside the building. Despite the stories that the Overlords had paid off law enforcement to turn the other cheek, they still maintained almost complete darkness and secrecy around their safe havens. That tactic, however, only drew more attention from those of us sharing the streets with them. I saw the interior clearly in the yellow-orange light spilling in from the streetlamps outside. I took a back stairwell to the third floor, where the drugs were held in a small room, probably once an office.

 

The heroin sat in densely packed bags taped closed on top of an old metal desk. My pulse quickened at this point in the job, when I was confronted with the stash and had to force myself to take much less than I could have carried. I could have stuffed several bags in my black cargo pants and backpack, but if that big of an amount were missing, it would have been readily noticeable. Instead, I only grabbed two bags, taking them in my gloved hands and stuffing them in my pack before anyone had a chance to notice I was even there. My take wouldn’t be missed until it was time to deliver. Only then would Cole realize he was short, usually leading to the guard taking the fall for the missing drugs.

 

I faded back into the night and made my way to Fang’s office.

 

“You asked me to bring it to you directly this time. Is everything okay?” I unzipped my bag and placed the two bags of white powder on the desk in front of him before sitting down.

 

“Everything’s fine,” he answered in his composed voice. He patted the bags and nodded to the larger gentleman standing by the door to his office.

 

His bodyguard walked over and picked the bags up off of the desk.

 

“Go ahead and deliver those,” Fang told him, waving him off with perfectly manicured fingers.

 

After the big guy left the room, Fang turned to face me in his desk chair. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. He laced his fingers together. I stared into his dark eyes. His black hair was slicked back. His tanned, chiseled face stared intently. His jaw muscles worked as he clenched his mouth shut. I looked at the black suit he wore over a deep red shirt with a black tie. A necklace hung from his neck with a long tooth, a fang, dangling from it.

 

“Sasha,” he said, and paused to look me over.

 

“Yes, sir?” I was used to his eyes taking in the sight of me. I wasn’t used to being called to deliver drugs directly to his office. In the five years I’d been working for him, he’d only asked me to deliver anything directly to him the first few times, to make sure I could handle the job ahead of me.

 

“You came straight here from the warehouse,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Were you followed?”

 

“No. No one even saw me. You know that,” I told him.

 

“I guess I do. I just get paranoid sometimes. You are stealing from the most notorious MC in the city. I’d hate to think what they’d do if they caught you,” he explained.

 

“Well, they won’t catch me,” I argued defiantly.

 

“I know,” Fang admitted, taking a sharp breath between his teeth. “That’s why I’m giving you this next job.”

 

“But we’ve barely put a dent in the Overlords’ supply,” I argued. “What gives?” It wasn’t like Fang to pull me off a job before it was completed. Usually, anyone pulled from work for him wound up in a dumpster or in the river somewhere.

 

“What gives is we’re about to put a huge dent in their supply. I’ve got intel that they have a massive stash sitting in the basement underneath their HQ. Of course, this stash is heavily guarded, unlike what you’ve told me about the smaller stashes hidden throughout the city,” he explained.

 

“Wait, you expect me to break into the headquarters of the most notorious MC in the city and sneak down past their state-of-the-art security system to get to their basement and raid their supply? Then, I’m supposed to get out without getting caught, or worse?” I asked for clarification.

 

Fang nodded with a sly grin on his face.

 

“Are you crazy?”

 

“Maybe, but I’m also very confident in your abilities,” he told me.

 

“Another thing, why do they have all these stashes in satellite locations if they have their main stash at HQ? Why don’t they have it all at HQ?” Something didn’t sound right here.

 

“The story is they’ve started consolidating since the thefts. Apparently, you’re cutting into their profits and their business. They’ve got to pull it all in to make sure it’s safe,” he explained.

 

“I don’t know, Fang. It smells fishy to me. If they
are
moving their drugs into safer places, it seems to me that HQ would be the
last
place they’d want to put it. That would just lead rivals like us to their location. It would be suicide for everyone,” I argued.

 

“I mean, if you don’t think you can do it…” he said with a shrug.

 

“I didn’t say that.” I chuckled. He was just bluffing anyway. I knew he was as likely to hand that job over to someone else as he knew I was to turn it down.

 

“I agree with you, though,” he said out of the blue. “It seems unlikely that Cole would actually pull his drugs in like that. I could see him shuffling things around into other safe havens, different locations, in an attempt to throw us off track. I don’t see him drawing attention to HQ like that.”

 

“Unless it’s a trap,” I suggested.

 

“Yeah, I guess, but the intel comes from reliable sources, which is why I’m inclined to trust it. First, I want you to get in there, find the heroin, and bring back a sample so that we can verify that it’s there before we send folks in. If he’s going to make a bold move like this, I want all of his drugs. Let’s go ahead and take him down instead of fucking with him the way we have been for the last few months.”

 

I was shocked by the bold change in approach.

 

“I like the sound of that,” I told him. It meant I didn’t have to deal with Hell’s Overlords anymore.

 

“I thought you would.” His eyes sparkled while he spoke.

 

“Is that all?” I asked with a yawn.

 

“Yeah, that’s it. Good job tonight, Sasha.”

 

“Thanks.” I started to get up from the chair, but he stopped me.

 

“In fact, I’m really proud of how far you’ve come,” he said. “I’m impressed with the work you’ve done against the Overlords. Their president has a pretty nasty reputation, and a lot of people wouldn’t want to go up against them.”

 

“I’m not going up against them. I’m sneaking behind their backs,” I said with a grin. “Goodnight, Fang.” I walked through the door to his office and started making my way back to my apartment.

 

On the way home, as the color of the sky began to lighten, ahead of the sun, I thought about what Fang had said about how far I’d come. He’d found me on the street, barely more than a kid.

 

I was at the city market, a set of farmer’s market style stands set up just on the outskirts of downtown. It operated daily, with vendors selling fresh fruits and vegetables as well as countless handmade crafts. It had its own crowd, mostly throwbacks to the ’60s and ’70s, young adults born decades late. It was a great place for street kids to buy or work for their own food.

 

I hadn’t been interested in working at the time. I knew if I wanted anything, my lack of skills left me with one real option. I had to take what I wanted or needed.

 

I reached for an orange with my dirty fingers, and a perfectly clean, tanned hand clasped my wrist.

 

“What are you doing?” a stern voice asked me.

 

My first instinct had been to run, but when he didn’t let go, I looked up into his dark, sparkling eyes. He grabbed a bag of oranges, paid for them, and handed them to me. I simply stared at them and blinked.

 

Then, I tried pulling away again. He’d given me what I wanted, and it was time to make an exit, but he wouldn’t let me go.

 

“No, dear, these come with a price,” he said with a wide grin.

 

“I don’t have any money,” I told him. “Keep them.”

 

“No, it’s not money I’m after,” he added.

 

“What, then? Sex? You’re not getting that either,” I snapped, and tried to pull away again, but he just would not let go of me. Then, it occurred to me that the people walking by could see what was going on, and I did not want to draw attention to myself.

 

“Let me tell you what I want,” he said, walking me out of the market and away from the people bustling by us.

 

He’d been wearing that same black suit, dark red shirt, and black tie. Over the years, I wondered if he didn’t just have a closet full of the same outfit somewhere.

 

“What do you want?” I snapped.

 

“I want you to work for me,” he told me calmly.

 

“I’m sorry?” He let go of my wrist, but I didn’t run. Instead, I stood in front of him rubbing my aching wrist.

 

“You heard correctly,” he answered. “I want you to work for me. I want to teach you how to do that very same thing you did in the market, but I want you to be the best at it.”

 

I glanced back at the market and back at him.

 

“You want me to steal for you?” I asked. Up until that point, I’d never considered that anyone would want to hire a thief.

 

“I do,” he answered with a smile.

 

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him.

 

“Listen, I can teach you how to do it professionally,” he explained.

 

His eyes looked deep into mine. I couldn’t look away. Before he said anything else, I could already feel in my bones that he was offering me something bigger than
just a job
.

 

“You’ll be provided for while you work for me. You won’t have to worry about anything. You want oranges? You can have all the oranges you want while you’re in my care,” he explained.

 

Care?
At the time, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had used that word in relation to me. He hadn’t been made to force my hand since.

 

The sun had just started to crack the horizon when I made it home from Fang’s office. I had my newest assignment, though I didn’t trust his intel. I knew I could do it, but I didn’t expect to find anything. Since that day at the market five years ago, our relationship had reached the point where I didn’t have to wait for instructions before I went to work. I figured I’d sleep off the daylight and go after the Overlords that night.

 

BOOK: Stolen: Hell's Overlords MC
4.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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