The Diablo's Hold

I didn’t want to be here; unfortunately, I had been dragged by my best friend Beckie.  Beckie was blond and beautiful; she used all of that to her advantage.  We had been friends for years, I had always looked past her vain and somewhat bitchy mannerisms; she was there when I needed her to be.  So while masses of sweaty bodies gyrated in the living room of her latest flings apartment, I sat in the corner with my book in hand.  My jean-clad legs were crossed Indian style, my chin in my hand. 

Looking up I gazed around the room, short skirts bared too much leg, cologne mixed with alcohol in an unpleasant combination.  The apartment was nice, wood floors and beige walls; a stereo was hooked up with the TV on a fancy, expensive looking entertainment center.  The coffee table was now strewn with beer bottles and empty plastic cups, liquor lined every table’s surfaces, and food was scattered throughout.  I was glad that I wasn’t going to be there for the cleanup.

Movement out of the corner of my drew my attention away from the boozed attendees.  A tall guy entered but a quicker assessment of his broad powerful shoulders edited that to a tall man, definitely all man.  I observed him as I often did with new people and surroundings. His red-gold hair was in dire need of a trim; his powerfully built body was encased in tight jeans, leather jacket, and motorcycle boots.  I then noticed the rage uncoiling in his dark eyes, and even though that rage wasn’t directed at me, I shifted in unease. 

Two more guys flanked him, all looking like they stepped out of biker vogue.  The look on the obvious leaders face told me that it was time to find Beckie and leave, quickly.  Hugging my book to my chest, I kept my head down.  Knowing that I’d have to walk in front of that icy rage to get anywhere.  I passed in front of them, holding my breath; only to let it out in a whoosh as a big hand clamped down on my arm and I was dragged nose to nose with the dark eyed leader.  My eyes widened as I looked up at him, his face cold, and his eyes burning.

“What is this?” he hissed, my throat clogged with alarm, I swallowed and shook my head helplessly. 

He looked me up and down and set me behind him, “stay,” he growled, then strode off; the two silent ones flanking him.

I quickly made my way to where I knew Beckie would be a bedroom.  Without knowing, I squeezed my eyes shut and went in.  I heard a shriek, then “oh my god Lina, what the hell are you doing?” she screamed. 

“Time to go Becks” I stated with my eyes closed, grimacing, “three big bikers are here and they don’t look to happy.”

“Oh shit, the Diablo’s” a masculine voice croaked in fear, “oh shit, go now!” he urged.  I heard fumbling for clothes, and then a hand grabbed mine.  I tightened my hold on my book and let Beckie drag me through throngs of people.  I glanced over my shoulder only to find a pair of dark eyes glaring at me.  Panic hit me and I turned, picking up speed.

As Beckie drove, the car was silent; quietly I asked who the Diablo’s were.  Beckie eyed me in bewilderment and amusement, “Only the biker gang that runs these parts, the toughest biker gang run by Lucian Kane.” I tensed, I knew they were bikers; Lucian Kane, the name flared the memory of the glare.  I thanked Beckie as she dropped me off at my rundown apartment building painted with graffiti and taped windows.