Angels Don't Cry: A Biker Erotic Romance (2 page)

"I know the movements and some of the basics. My uncle taught me, but I never indulged in the game, no."

This seemed to sadden Ramirez. "Well, we all have our interests to attend to." Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, "And I don't wish to impede any longer on yours. Now that we are clear on the coming event, I won't detain you any longer."

Lizzie nodded. "It was good of you to come."

Roady followed Ramirez and his men out of the office. Liam, after they were alone, said, "He's not happy with our choice." His deep voice purred across Lizzie's skin.

She kept her sex interests out of the club, generally hunting down some yuppie in a downtown bar, taking him for a spin, and then dropping him. Liam was like primal lust though. He was a mad crush when she was eighteen. Many nights, alone in her bed, were spent fantasizing about him. But he was club, and off limits. Besides, he would want to own her, and she had no interest in being owned.

"He'll keep," she said, not looking at him, letting her mind go over the meeting. Liam was right, Ramirez wasn't happy with prospect of Lizzie being at the helm. Bringing up Isabella pacified him and deterred further comment, but she doubted that Ramirez saw anything of Isabella in her.

"Maybe not."

"Then I'll deal with it," she told him.

"He was here for more than a greeting and assurances," Liam persisted.

"Obviously," Lizzie agreed shortly. There was a tinge of doubt and challenge in his voice that was getting on her nerves. If he didn't think she was capable of doing the job then why did he throw in with her? "He's checking to see if we are still the best network for the area."

"He already has a replacement in mind," Liam stated.

That was something new, and caused an eyebrow to lift before she could stop it as she asked, "Who?"

"The Fire Devils, I'm pretty sure," he told her, and she could feel him studying her now.

"You know this
how
?"

The large man shrugged. "Talk. Patch sightings."

Shit.

If the Fire Devils were making a move on her territory, then this could be serious. "How long has this been going on? Did my uncle know about this?"

Liam shook his head slowly, letting that be his answer.

So this was directly related to Jim's death, she mused, and with a sudden insight understood why Liam threw in with her. Leaderless, they were dead meat. For five days the Fire Devils had free rein to move in. They had to have a leader—any leader—and she was the only one to step up. Liam didn't actually believe she could do the job, but having her in place would give them time to get someone who could.

Well fuck that!

She took the reins, and she intended to keep them.

Calming down a little, she acknowledged there was a problem, given the situation. Basically, the problem was her tits, and the fact that she had them. What Liam was bringing up was the possibility of a territory war. Knocking out Bill the prospect in the bar, which was a nice bit of luck there—and her hand was throbbing from connecting so hard with his jaw bone—was one thing. Commanding during a territory incursion was something completely different. It required the club to have faith in their leader, unquestioned faith, when injury and death were on the line.

Liam walked to the office door and opened it, pausing for a moment. "He was lying about the chess game."

"Right," she agreed. Uncle Jim hated Ramirez. Thought he was a two-bit enforcer who had the tactical brains of a masturbating monkey—his description, not hers.

Liam left, closing the door.

She peaked her hands in front of her on the desk, "Well ain't this some shit," she said to the empty room.

A knock came at the door, and then Roady opened it and strolled in. He walked up to her desk with a leather vest, decorated on the back with Prospect's patch, and placed on the surface. With a nod and a gleam of approval in his eyes, he turned and walked out.

Lizzie noticed a few drops and smears of fresh blood on the leather. She didn't comment, letting Roady leave and close the door behind him.

***

The Strip
was a mile run on University Ave. and a profitable section of real estate if you weren't actually trying to run a legitimate business in the area. Of all the areas the club controlled, the Strip was the most important to hold. Hookers, strippers, bars, fences, and drug dealers all ran under the direct control of, or paid for operation rights to, the club.

Freelancers were players coming in from out of the area, ignorant of the club's control, and running their own game. They were a constant maintenance problem. There were, by far, too many of them currently in operation as far as Lizzie was concerned.

Looking at these freelancers from a tactical point of view, they were the foothold available for the Fire Devils to engage. Going for the franchises was stupid. She would get a call, and the club would respond harshly to the intrusion.

The freelancers, however, had no one to call. They were fair game. Gathering enough of them, the Fire Devils would develop a stable enough network to warrant a direct assault against the Road Knights. Once a competing network was in place, it could take months to yank them out and reach stability again. If enough of a dispute was created, they would begin experiencing problems with the franchisers as well.

The cartel didn't care who controlled what. If the Fire Devils could show a stable enough network, adding to their sales capacity, the cartel would ship them the drugs. When that happened, the incursion would be funding itself, and the firefights would begin.

No one in the officer meeting the following day needed this explained to them.

Lizzie knew she had to act quickly and decisively to avoid a competing network being developed. She had clout, and she commanded a level of respect, but she didn't have a strong enough reign to remain dominate during a club war. Not yet. The club would fall apart, and men would be hurt—or worse.

Since chopping off her tits wasn't an option, ruthlessness would have to suffice. But effective ruthlessness required accurate targeting. So she asked questions, gathered information, filling in the details of her course of action. Then she outlined that course of action to the men in the room.

Several eyebrows went up. A few asses readjusted themselves in chairs. She expected this; her line of action was targeted and brutal. It would send a clear message to the Fire Devils that she not only intended to lead the club, but would insure that their territory was actively defended. It also sent the message that if they persisted, her view of them was simple: road-kill.

She expected reservations and a bit of shock as well. She was a girl, she had tits and everything. Her line of action was very close, she believed, to what her uncle would have come up with. She based this on listening to him for years in meetings just like this one. It wasn't what a group of men like these would expect from a girl.

What she didn't expect was Liam's reaction, and his questioned doubt against nearly every point of her plan. It bordered on outright sedition.

She listened, debated, argued, and then dug in. She knew if she got into a shouting match while in the meeting, it would only weigh against her—tirades were what girls did, not leaders of biker clubs.

It was hard though, damn hard. She was seeing red by the time she brought the meeting to a close and sent her enforcers out to put her plan of attack into action.

The men filed out, some of them glancing back at her, doubt clearly in their eyes. Those looks of doubt, however, were not on her; they were caused by Liam's incessant bullshit. She called Liam to stay behind.

"What?!" she growled at him, just after he closed the door.

"
What
, what?" he responded.

"Do you have a problem with me, or the actions? The actions are exactly what Jim would have done, no less. Perhaps a little more, but not by much. So, what the fuck?"

Liam looked her over. "It's overkill. We have a few patch sightings, and an inquiring cartel asshole. You are responding like it's a full-on incursion."

"There are way too many freelancers available. Way too many. The ground work is there, ready to exploit," she told him.

His irritation visibly rose a level. "You know that, and I know that, but no one on the outside looking in could know that. It's too soon for anyone to have dug that much information up."

"Bullshit!" she snarled. "You could have assessed it in three days." She took a breath and continued, "Don't, for a moment, think I don't understand the territory."

"What I understand is, you are provoking a confrontation when there is no reason to."

"What I'm doing is insuring that there will be no confrontation!"

"Now who's bullshitting!"

"If they have moved as far as I think they have, then this will stop them. If they haven't, there will be no opportunity for them to do so. End of fucking story!"

"Or, you have your head up your ass, and this will clue them in that there might be an opportunity for them. Even if there isn't, it
is
bait, an invitation to sniff around."

"My ass is none of your business," she warned. "The freelancers are. Deal with them!"

"We were dealing with them. The way you are going about it, none of them will turn into franchises."

"Fine! It's not like there is a shortage of opportunity there."

"The shortage is in experience," he growled.

"Experience? So, that's the real problem, right? You want me to sit around and be a figure-head. Well, you fucking picked the wrong person for that."

"You should have waited a day, maybe two, to assess the damage! Instead of charging in with a fucking panic mission!"

She was going to lose it. She could feel it boiling inside of her, "Panic? You think I'm some fucking house-mouse on a chair? You fucking asshole!"

He was about to reply, but she cut him off, "No! You have your goddamned mission. Fucking do your job! This shit wouldn't even be happening if you weren't coddling these fucking freelancers! Get them out! Shut them down!"

Now, she saw that
he
was about to lose it. Well good on him, she thought to herself, watching his huge hands close up into fists. She met his eyes and held them without a blink. After several moments passed, she said, "Well? Why are you still here?" Her voice was as calm as the grave.

His face contorted through several emotions, and then went flat. He turned away and walked to the door. Pausing, just for a moment, he then opened it and walked out, closing it a little too hard behind him.

She sat down in her chair behind the desk, a shudder going through her. He really looked like he was going to hit her. The suggestion that he didn't know how to do his job might have been going a little too far.

No, she decided, it
was
going too far. Liam was great at his job, and the Strip was his area of responsibility. Uncle Jim would have handled that, and still kept Liam on the team. She practically cut him off. "Fuck," she sighed.

***

Three days later, the information coming to her from her enforcers showed that not only was the incursion there, but that it was close to entrenched. She was way too busy to gloat or feel good about her timely action. Several skirmishes with the Fire Devils ensued. So far, no one was seriously hurt, and she thanked God for that.

Instead of backing down, Liam seemed even worse, and their arguments were becoming legend around the club. Out behind the bar Monday night, drinking a beer, and giving Kathy a break, Buster looked at her and said, "Must be love. You hate him too much for anything else."