Free Deadly Seduction by Selene Chardou Page A

wintertime but there would be a major bonus if they finished on time.
     
    Cillian climbed out of his truck and walked toward the front door where he tapped in that week’s four digit code on the keypad but before he could finish, there was a buzz from the inside. A camera was placed in a strategic position above the double front doors and one could be buzzed in if they didn’t know the combo; a definite must for the Saint Slappers, who would never be trusted with the code to their Clubhouse.
     
    He walked inside and looked around the dim area. The air ventilation worked because the usually hazy Clubhouse smelled of smoke but it wasn’t abrasive and a bluish haze hadn’t been left behind as the sun streaked light through one of the windows and directly onto the bar area.
     
    A prospect, O’Neal, tended the bar area while he cleaned the area and emptied ashtrays. He was a hard worker, sponsored by Quinn, although everyone called him Cell because he had the fortunate habit of being able to wipe compromised cell phones and replace them with completely clean numbers and histories.
     
    He was also a former Air Force member who served four duties in Afghanistan before he was honorably discharged after a bullet shattered his shoulder. He’d had it re-broken and a competent Club doctor had operated on him. He would be fine and it was almost a guarantee he would be the next to be patched in when they got past that night and the whole “Riley” situation.
     
    It was a pity too because his father didn’t want to do much of anything until Riley was taken care of; Cillian understood why but that didn’t make his job any easier.
     
    “Want a beer?” O’Neal questioned as he pulled up to the bar and took a seat.
     
    “Nah, a shot of Bushmills should go a long way though.” Cillian lit a Camel and blew smoke from his nostrils in frustration. “The old man around?”
     
    “In the chapel. He’s speaking informally to all the old school members.”
     
    Cillian grabbed his Bushmills Irish whiskey, stood and walked toward the oak double doors, which led to chapel. He knocked before his father finally said, “Come on in.”
     
    He walked inside and found his father, Dizzy, inside with Brendan and Sean. All three of them were the founding members of Lucifer’s Saints and their sons were also members of the club.
     
    Kink was Sean’s son and Cricket belonged to Brendan. Both their mothers had been Saint Slappers because unlike Dizzy, neither man wanted the stability of an old lady or a family; the Club was their family.
     
    They’d come over to the States during the whole Northern Irish conflict with the English and really respected the Hell’s Angels and what they’d done for the biker community. It was also the perfect cover for several men who had active IRA records in the UK while they could be protected by powerful Irish relatives here in the States.
     
    They’d decided to name their MC Lucifer’s Saints because although the work they did was dirty, it was for a greater good.
     
    The charter club moved from Boston to their current location where they knew there was no major biker presence since the Italian Mafia and Raymond Jackson controlled most of the crime. Granted, Raymond was several years’ younger than his father but he’d already been a young and very determined man who had no choice but to make it.
     
    The White Knights were the only MC in Northern Nevada at the time and were not respected by anyone who’d counted. They were also a nightmare for local law enforcement until the Demon’s Bastards founded their charter club in Pine Bluff.
     
    Pine Bluff’s Sheriff, Nathaniel Briggs, was married to Lorna Hughes’ cousin and her husband, Tom “Jonesy” Hughes, was President of the Demon’s Bastards. The Bastards had started off as a family MC that, unofficially, became outlaw due to their various dealings with Raymond Jackson and the Italian Mafia.
     
    Even though there was a friendly