Tame his Beast: Part 2 Read online

  Tame his Beast

  Part Two

  A Devil’s Highwaymen Story

  By

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Claire C. Riley

  About the book

  What happens when the beast is no longer caged?

  Beast, feared enforcer for the Devil’s Highwaymen, wasn't used to feeling weak, until one night he was attacked and left for dead and his whole world shattered. Engulfed by pain, rage and his need for vengeance he’s pushed everyone away.

  Finally, out of the hospital and back at the clubhouse, he thinks everything will be okay now…only he can’t keep the nightmares at bay.

  In his head, he’s still trapped in the burning barn and the screaming of the horses are driving him to madness.

  He knows the only person that can help him is Belle, and he’ll do anything to get her back. That is until he finds out that she’s been spilling club secrets. Shooter, President of the Devil’s Highwaymen says she has to go to ground unless she can prove her allegiance to the club in the form of bloodshed.

  In the MC, loyalty is everything and betrayal is dealt with in violence. But can Beast kill the woman who stole his heart, or will his love for her get in the way of club law?

  One thing’s for sure, when love & loyalty collide it can only end in a bloodbath.

  But everyone deserves their happily ever after, don’t they?

  Even a Beast and his Beauty.

  *Tame his Beast is a two-part MC romance set in the theme of Beauty & the Beast and based in the Devil’s Highwaymen World. If you haven’t read part 1 then go grab your copy now before you read this!*

  Copyright ©2020 Claire C. Riley

  Editing: Amy Jackson

  Cover Design: Wilde Designs Elizabeth Constantopoulos

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, without express permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  ~ BEAST ~

  Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed while the prospect packed up my shit. I wasn’t leaving because Doctor Collins told me to—far from it. I was leaving because I hated that place and everything in it. I wanted out of here and to be back home with my club and my brothers. That place was just a constant reminder of the pain I had endured and all I had lost.

  My head was spinning from the exertion of the past thirty minutes, sickness clawing at my insides and making me feel like I was going to puke, fire dousing my lungs, my muscles aching, throbbing with the constant strain of standing up, of walking and moving, of doing normal shit that normal people could do. The prospect looked over at me, his gaze filled with worry, but he didn’t say anything. I swiped my hand over my forehead, feeling it slick with sweat as I struggled to stay upright.

  Fuck Doctor Collins.

  Fuck Belle.

  Fuck this hospital.

  I was goddamned fine.

  Or I would be once I got out of here.

  Gauge was on his way with some of my brothers to take me back home, and I couldn’t wait. I was a fully working man again, and back at the club I could have all the beer and pussy I wanted, starting with Lola. I’d show that bitch how much of a man I still was and then I’d kick her out of the club for talking to me the way she had.

  The door opened and Shooter, Casa, and Gauge walked in. Shooter’s expression was dark, and a man like Shooter didn’t look like that unless something really bad had happened. The prospect stopped what he was doing as Gauge clicked the door shut.

  “You couldn’t stay put for another week, huh?” Gauge grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “See you got your eyes back, brother,” Casa said, nodding toward me.

  “Got a cage downstairs ready to take you back to the clubhouse,” Shooter said, his expression hard, serious...

  I looked between them all, sensing that something significant had happened. Now that I’d taken my head out of my self-pitying ass and I had the use of both eyes, I was seeing a whole lot more. And right then I was seeing that some serious shit was about to go down.

  “Are any of you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to keep playing with my balls?” I snapped. “Because I’m all for foreplay, but I’d rather get it from a sweetbutt than any of you fuckers.”

  No one laughed.

  Not even Casa, and I’d just joked about his two favorite things.

  My stomach soured further.

  “You found out who did it,” I said, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. It was a matter of fact even before Shooter nodded. “Who?”

  Gauge and Casa exchanged a look, but Shooter kept his gaze on me. Steady, calm.

  “Brothers, I need to know.” I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the news. Echo was back inside my head, and he was just as furious and desperate as me to know who it was that had killed him. Who it was that had almost killed me. And who it was that had lost me the woman of my dreams.

  I’d always been a violent man. Violence bred violence, right? And in the end, we become what we most fear. I’d started my life unwanted and had been punished, abused, and unloved. And I’d become the outcome of those actions. Never caring enough to let anyone in. I’d never pushed someone away because I’d never let anyone get close enough to care. Not until Belle.

  That one night had destroyed more than just my body. It had destroyed my mind. And I’d put myself back together as someone different. Despite what Belle thought, I wasn’t good; the goodness had been cut and burned out of me until I wasn’t whole anymore. And Belle deserved someone whole…someone more.

  In a different life, we could have been good.

  “You might wanna sit down for this,” Shooter said, interrupting my tangled thoughts.

  “Fuck that, Prez, just tell me.”

  He huffed out a breath and looked to Casa, whose expression was serious.

  “Italian mafia,” Shooter said.

  I scowled. “How sure are you?”

  The Italian mafia was serious.

  Really fucking serious; it meant war.

  “A hundred percent, brother.” He looked back at Shooter. “We got the cops on the payroll to check phone records of people in the area that night, linked it up to their men. Followed them for a few days, hacked their phones, and heard talk. Realized it was connected to the new buyers we’ve been in talks with. Told you they were from Cali, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my scowl growing deeper.

  “Big pockets, big connections, and an even bigger risk. But the payroll was worth it. Italian mafia found out and wanted in on our territory. Thought they could take out a couple of our guys and scare us off. They want our product. They want our buyers, and they want us gone.” He ran a tattooed hand down his beard, his face lined with worry.

  “There’s more?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

  “Yeah, this is where shit starts to get fucked up.” Shooter looked to Casa, who took a step closer.

  “I found talk on the dark web…about that night,” he began, and I froze, dread seeping into my blood and turning it to ice. “I followed some leads and traced some shit and…” Casa stopped talking, dragging a hand over his shaved head before looking at me. “It was filmed, brother,” he said, his voice filled with apology and dismay.


  “What was?” I asked with a heavy scowl, but then I knew, and I wished I didn’t.

  “That night. Everything was filmed. Echo, you…all of it.” Casa cracked his knuckles and swallowed. “I’ve taken it down, but…” His words trailed off.

  Dread hit my stomach like a lead balloon and I sat back down on the edge of my bed, feeling dizzy. Being tortured for hours was bad enough, but knowing that there were videos of it out there and people were watching it. Getting off on my pain. My screams. My nightmares…Echo’s death.

  “Show me,” I said, my conviction weak as I looked down at the floor, shame marring every word I spoke.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, brother,” Gauge stepped in. “You did good. You never broke. You never gave shit away. You did yourself and the Highwaymen proud. There’s no shame in it, brother.”

  “You watched it,” I said, my words hollow.

  It shouldn’t have mattered, yet it did.

  I’d relived that night a hundred times over, maybe more, and every time it morphed and changed into something worse, something more bloody and violent. My screams got more agonizing, the pain was more excruciating, the night darker, blacker, the fire brighter, hotter. And the screaming of the horses filled every space in between.

  “Beast, you did good,” Shooter said.

  I looked back up. “I want to see,” I growled, my tone darkening, “and then we’re going to take these motherfuckers out, one by one.”

  “There’s another…complication,” Shooter said, interrupting my tirade. “The prospect says you and that nurse of yours have been gettin’ close.”

  I scowled over at the prospect. “I fired her this morning.”

  “How close did you get?” Gauge asked.

  “What the fuck does she have to do with anything?”

  Shooter dragged his hand over his short beard again, a nervous tic that he’d developed in the past couple a years, and I knew that things were about to get even worse. “Well, seems she’s been seeing someone.”

  “I know,” I snapped. “Lorenzo or some shit. Just met him in the hallway downstairs. He’s a piece of shit fancy fuckboy. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Gauge and Shooter exchanged a look.

  “Can someone enlighten me!” I yelled, growing more and more pissed off by the second. I didn’t like being kept in the dark; it was normally my job to find out that sort of information, and being on the receiving end of it was bullshit.

  “He’s Lorenzo Bianchi,” Shooter said, “younger brother of Mateo and Carlos Bianchi, who help run the mafia’s crew in Atlanta.”

  The world stopped on its axis momentarily, the second turning into a minute and turning into a life sentence. My head spun at the news and everything that it meant. The splitting headache I’d woken up with grew so loud that my eyeballs throbbed.

  “So, I need to ask you again, brother,” Gauge said, coming forward. “How close did you get to the nurse? Because we’re wondering if she might have been in on the whole thing from the start, and if so, she’s going to ground just like everyone else involved.”

  I shook my head, stunned. Belle couldn’t have been in on it, could she? Had she been playing me with her good girl act the whole time?

  “Not that close,” I said, my mouth dry. I thought over the past twenty-four hours; her body on mine, my hands on her…

  Gauge didn’t look like he believed me, but he wasn’t about to call me out as a liar either.

  What had I said while she was there?

  Had I been as careful as I normally would be?

  I didn’t know. I couldn’t be sure.

  I’d been in constant pain the past year. My tongue had been loose, but had it been loose enough to spill club secrets?

  “No, no way,” the prospect said, coming forward and shaking his head. “I know her and she’s not like that. Not a bad bone in her body.”

  “You can never really know a person, kid,” Shooter said, sounding full of regret.

  “Belle’s not like that!” The prospect stormed toward me, his eyes full of pleading, “Beast, tell ’em she wouldn’t do that!”

  Belle…

  Sweet, beautiful, caring Belle.

  I pictured her now, that god-awful nurse’s outfit, her hair piled high on her head, her face exhausted after another long shift. The way she flinched when I yelled. The way she made herself scarce when anyone came by.

  I nodded. “He’s right; she’s not like that. She’s a good girl, Shooter.”

  “Yeah, well let’s hope so, for her sakes,” Casa said, clapping his hands together, “because she’s running with the wrong crew, and if she’s not careful she’s gonna get herself killed.”

  “I’ll speak to her,” I growled, “let her know how it is.”

  And she’ll really hate me then, I thought. But she’d made her choice. She’d chosen him over me and she’d have to live with those consequences.

  “Let me speak to her,” the prospect suggested, and I turned to glare at him. He shrugged. “We became close over the past month or so. I can find out what she knows, if anything.”

  I felt myself filling with fury, my heartrate spiking. Close? Close? What did he mean by close? I started toward him and he held up his hands in defense.

  “It’s not like that, brother, I swear it’s not.” He backed away, his hands still in the air. “We’re just friends is all.”

  “Maybe she’s in on this. Seems like the sweet little nurse is getting it all from all over, huh?” Casa said with a smirk, enjoying the drama of it all. I knew he was winding me up but I couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “Hot little nurse playing the good little girl when really she’s getting dick from every brother, because, given how you’re reacting right now, there ain’t no way that you haven’t fucked that girl. Wonder if I can get in on the action. Harlow and I have been talking about a threesome, and she’s hot as they come. Wouldn’t mind a taste.”

  I turned to him, pointing my finger. “I will fucking end you if you say that again!”

  Casa laughed like this was the funniest shit he’d ever heard, and maybe it was, to him.

  I was shaking, my arms and legs trembling with unspent rage at the thought of her fucking anyone but me while I could still feel her wrapped around my own cock like a fucking burrito. Goddammit, but she wasn’t mine now. She was his. Lorenzo. Italian mafia. The bastards who’d killed my best friend and ruined my life…

  “Casa, shut the fuck up before you give him an embolism,” Shooter yelled. “Beast, I’m taking it you’ve gotten up close and personal with this girl.” He waited for my response, but when all he got in return was a death glare, he went on. “Did it end well? You think you can talk to her? Find out what’s going down with that boyfriend of hers?”

  I thought about it, wondering if I could just order her not to be with Lorenzo anymore. Warn her of how dangerous he and his family were and make her see that she’d be safer with me. Or without me. Shit, she’d be safer with both of us out of her life and I knew it. But I also knew that wasn’t really an option. After the way we just ended things, she’d no sooner listen to me than she would the Devil.

  “Let the prospect talk to her,” I said with a hard scowl, hating him for having the option of talking to her when I couldn’t.

  “I can do that,” he replied immediately.

  I looked over at him. “You fuck her?” I asked, ready to knock his damn teeth out if he said yes. Not that I gave a shit who Belle slept with. Her pussy was her pussy and I had no claim to it, but I wasn’t happy about her putting out to all of my brothers, despite how I’d mocked her and taunted her about becoming a sweetbutt for the club. That shit would never happen.

  “No, brother, we just talked about books and shit,” he said.

  “Books? I didn’t know you could fucking read,” Casa laughed, and everyone joined in, barring me. I hated the prospect in that moment. Hated that he had a connection with her that I didn’t. Hated that he’d had conversati
ons with her that I didn’t know about. Hated that she was with Lorenzo right then, probably getting fucked in the back seat of his Mercedes like a high-class hooker. And yet the thought of her spread-eagled made my dick twitch again.

  Fuck, what the hell had this woman done to me?

  “We need to know everything about her,” I said, all business. My brothers didn’t need to know all the fucked-up shit going around my head right then. “Not just her address and where she works, because we know that. I want to know her friends, her family, what car she drives. Hell, I even wanna know what her lucky underwear is, brothers. I need it all, and then I’ll assess the threat level she makes.”

  They shared a knowing look between themselves, Casa smirking like a fucking clown the entire time.

  “Regular stalker,” Casa snickered.

  I stared him down, and though he looked away, the look remained. I turned to the prospect. “I want a list of books she recommended to you. I want to know everything you two talked about.”

  “Jesus, brother, let’s just get you back to the clubhouse and get you a beer before we go all Special Forces on her ass,” Shooter said. “I need a fucking cigarette, so get your clothes on and let’s get the fuck out of here before Doctor Collins blows his top. Need to keep the good doctor onside, which, after your little stunt downstairs, is going to be hard enough.”

  “You mean he’s going to be taking a little trip to Bali or some shit on our money pretty soon,” Gauge grumbled. He hated Doctor Collins as much as I did, but Shooter was right—we needed a doctor of his reach on the payroll.

  “Pretty much,” Shooter said “Beast, let Gauge and Casa handle this—”

  “No!” I barked, interrupting him. “I’m dealing with this.”

  Shooter’s jaw twitched and he came toward me. “Listen, brother, I know you’ve been through a hell of a lot in the past year, and I’ve let a lot of shit slide because of that, but you need to remember your place. I think I’ve been patient enough, but I’m done with that now. So I’ll say this one more time, as your president: leave Gauge and Casa to handle this shit for now. You keep working on getting yourself better, because you ain’t fucking there yet.”