Cocky Perfect Storm: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Devil's Hellions MC Book 2) by Hayley Faiman

Author:Hayley Faiman [Faiman, Hayley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
Published: 2023-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

ROADKILL

“I’ll tell you when we’re back in the clubhouse. This place gives me the fucking creeps.”

Volt stands from Itch’s side and wraps his arm around my waist. I slip mine across his shoulders, and he helps me walk. I wasn’t able to see the house at all. I was completely unconscious when I was brought into the empty bedroom and tied to a chair.

I didn’t understand Legacy’s words about the house giving him the creeps, but I do now. Just one sweep of the room, and I completely understand the full-on fucking strange vibes. Because this place is not normal, not that I thought it would be normal. It is a mansion after all.

Slowly, Volt helps me walk down the stairs, but I can’t even focus on my steps. All I can see are the elaborate gigantic paintings that are framed on the wall. Five of them, to be exact. They take up the expanse of the entire wall. Floor to ceiling.

Paintings of girls.

Naked.

But not just naked. They’re dressed in BDSM wear, ball gags, chains, leather, all of it. That doesn’t creep me out too much. I can appreciate whips and chains and all that shit. It’s the fact that every single painting has blood dripping from the eyes and down their cheeks.

Then I really take in the rest of the place. Everything has an element of blood to it. The carpets are red. The tables are black lacquer with red detailing. Everything is fucking red.

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

“This shit is fucking wild, yeah?”

Looking at him, I arch a brow. “Where is Cyrus?”

He shakes his head. “Weirdo that owns this place?” Volt asks. “Haven’t found him.”

Once we make it to the bottom of the staircase, I am forced to step over a body, then another. The men litter the floors. Blood circles around their heads. At least it matches the décor, if nothing else.

“What about the girl? The one Dutch made me come here for.”

“We got her,” he murmurs.

Volt’s voice is strained, as if there is something he doesn’t want to tell me. I open my mouth to ask him what the fuck is going on, but he continues to talk as we slowly make our way toward the door. I will be more than happy to leave this hellhole and wish I could sprint to the door, to the waiting truck, to Kiplyn.

“Dutch had Kiplyn,” he murmurs.

I falter and slip in someone’s blood but am thankfully able to catch myself. Looking down, I recognize one of the men who carried Itch into the bedroom and left him there beside me.

With a growl, I spit on his dead body. “Fucker,” I murmur. “Kiplyn?” I ask before shifting my attention to Volt and jerking my chin.

“Kiplyn,” he says. “We got her. She’s on lockdown in the clubhouse now.”

“Dutch?” I ask through gritted teeth.

His lips curve up into a wide smile, and he lets out a chuckle before he speaks. “He’s in the same holding cell as George.”

“Good,” I grunt.

I am satisfied enough with that answer.

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