Dark Pharaohs MC Romance Series: The Complete Collection (5 books)

Dark Pharaohs Book 1, Chapter Three: Kasey

Spencer stands up, his chair almost tipping over backward. He starts to stalk around one side of his desk, so I go around the other, making sure to keep it between us. I don’t really think he will physically hurt me. But then, I’ve never thought he’ll work with a drug cartel boss, either. Right now, I don’t know what to think.

My foot strikes something on the ground and I cut a glance down. It’s a gym bag that’s open enough for me to see the stacks of money inside. I look away from it, feeling agitated as I move around the desk. Spencer is looking at me strangely, a maniacal glint in his eye that sends a cold chill running through my veins.

And then, he stops. He scrubs his face with his hands, then looks at me. The anger is still simmering in his eyes, but he manages to rein it in for the moment.

“Look, it’s not like I’m part of the cartel, Kasey. All I’m doing is moving money around. And they pay me very well to do it,” he tries to explain.

“They murder people. You’re helping them murder people.”

“Oh, grow up. I’m not helping them murder anybody. And let’s be honest, you haven’t complained about the lifestyle I’m providing for you,” he fires back.

I feel my face grow warm with anger as he throws that in my face. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and it never fails to piss me off every single time. I’ve never been a materialistic woman. Things don’t interest me nearly as much as they interest Spencer. And definitely nowhere near as much as he seems to think they interest me.

Having material wealth has never been high on my list of priorities. I can be happy in a small home—one that actually feels like a home—rather than this sterile monstrosity. But more than his inference that I’m a money-grubbing gold digger, what infuriates me more than anything is knowing exactly what I’ve sacrificed. For him. And the fact that he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I could have provided for myself, you know. I was on track to be a lawyer. Just like you.”

My voice is cold. Hard. Yet he just smirks at me, kindling my rage.

“Probably not just like me,” he says blithely. “And let’s be honest, it’s not like you were going to be the next Gloria Allred or anything.”

“How dare you, you rude, arrogant, condescending son of a pitch,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His words hit me like a punch to the gut and leave me breathless for a moment. A tear rolls from the corner of my eye and my vision shimmers as the anger coursing through me temporarily robs me of my ability to speak. All I seem to be able to do is stand there, gaping at him like a fool.

For him to say that to me is as unbelievable as it is hurtful. Not to mention the fact that it’s totally and completely untrue. And he knows it. He knows exactly what I’ve sacrificed—what I’ve given up. For him.

“Things haven’t been good between us for a long while now,” I say quietly. “But I never expected that you’d start lying to me, Spencer. Nor did I think you’d work with a flocking drug cartel.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic about all of this? It’s not like I’m on the streets selling. Or cutting people’s heads off. I’m moving money around. That’s it. That’s all I do.”

“And by moving that money around, you’re helping those people out on the streets sell drugs and cut people’s heads off,” I counter.

“Seriously, you’re being hysterical. This is ridiculous,” he snaps. “What’s the difference between moving money for Miguel Zavala or some Wall Street CEO?”

“Other than Wall Street CEO’s not leaving a trail of corpses behind them?”

He blows out a frustrated breath and throws his hands up, shaking his head. He’s acting like this is nothing more serious than me catching him doing something innocuous like fudging on our taxes or having one too many when he is out with the boys. He acts like working for a man who murders people by the hundreds—maybe even the thousands—is nothing to be worked up about.

I shake my head, feeling the last pieces of my heart shatter. We’ve drifted apart and our relationship hasn’t been good for a while, but deep down, I’ve always hoped he’ll snap out of whatever he’s been dealing with and come back to me.

“I thought you were just going through something. That you’d get through it and be the man I fell in love with again,” I say, my voice trembling. “But I don’t even know you anymore, Spencer.”

Dark Pharaohs Book 2, Chapter Four: Domino

The growl of motorcycles fill the air and I see the Warriors riding down the road toward us. The one in the lead is Tarantula, the club’s Road Captain. He’s a stocky man, about five-ten, with a tail of thick dark hair that falls to the middle of his back. He reminds me a lot of Danny Trejo.

His second is a guy named Bala. He’s tall and lean, with well-defined muscles through his shoulders and arms. Bala comes across as pretty casual, but he’s got a quiet intensity about him. Dude is like a loaded gun just waiting to go off. His head is shaved clean and he’s sporting some new tats that wrap around the sides of his head, adding to his aura.

He’s got an intimidating, slightly off kilter, dangerous vibe about him, and if you’re a Road Captain, it’s probably what you’d want in your second.

“What’s up, ese?” Tarantula says, his English thickly accented.

He and Cosmo embrace briefly, thumping each other on the back, as Bala and I stand there staring at each other. I’m doing my best to project the same sort of menacing presence that seems natural to him, but given the smirk curling the corners of his mouth upward, I’m not sure I’m being too successful at it. Tarantula looks over and extends his hand and we shake firmly.

“Got a baby biker with you today, ese?” he says with a grin.

“Gotta take the training wheels off sometime,” Cosmo quips.

“Si mon. About time you popped that cherry, holmes,” he says, then turns back to Cosmo. “We doin’ business today or what?”

“You show me yours, I show you mine,” Cosmo tells him.

Tarantula nods to Bala, who squats down and opens the bag. It’s filled with fat stacks of bundled cash. Cosmo nods to me, so I give Derek the sign to open up the side door on the can. He rolls it back, revealing the bundled and wrapped weed we’re carrying.

“Do I need to weigh that, ese?”

Cosmo shoots him a smirk and points at the bag. “Do I need to count that?”

“Touché, holmes. Touché.”

He nods to Bala who calls for the guy in his van and they walk over and start to load their van with the weed. I reach down and pick up the bag with the cash in it and zip it up. We stand in silence, watching them load the weed into the Warriors’ van for a moment before Tarantula turns to Cosmo.

“Heard a rumor about you, ese,” he starts.

Cosmo arches an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“That you got into some big shootout with the Zavala cartel.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

Tarantula shrugs and spreads his arms out wide. “Around. Just word on the street and all that sheet.”

Cosmo chuffs. “You believe every rumor you hear, compadre?”

The burly Mexican offers him a smile. “Only the ones that have that ring of truth to ’em. You know what I mean, holmes?”

“And what makes you think this rumor you’re hearing has a ring of truth to it?”

Still grinning, Tarantula shakes his head. “Because I know bullchit when I smell it, ese. And this rumor I heard? Not even a whiff.”

After the shootout, Prophet told us all to keep a lid on it. Sheriff Singer was doing us a solid by walking the tightrope that kept us out of the story. I’m not surprised the story got out anyway. People love to gossip. But all I can say is my degree of confidence that the story didn’t come from any of our guys is extremely high. Most all of us are veterans and know not to flock with mission security by running our mouths. And those few guys who aren’t vets have enough respect for Prophet and the club that they aren’t going to spill the story either.

“The way I hear it is you and your gringos here got into a gunfight with Zavala’s men. Almost took out the big guy, is what I was told,” Tarantula says.

“Interesting story,” Cosmo replies dryly.

“Si. It’s very interesting, cabron. But that’s not the most interesting part.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense. Tell me the most interesting part.”