Black Devils Cigarettes Novels & Stories

Briley opened her mouth to say something – and truly, she didn’t know what that might be – when Wolf came into the bar. He shot a ferocious glare around and jerked his head towards the conference room. Without a word, without even looking at each other, every member of The Road Devils promptly left their posts, places, and tables and followed Wolf down the hallway. Rebel reached for the kitchen phone to call the guys over at The Garage and Blue Dragon Ink to drop everything and come to the bar.

He's the kind you run away from. If only my hormones would listen. A little bit of late night research yesterday showed me that Leone is the scariest thing to ever exist in this city. But what is even scarier than that? Nursing an unexplainable and worrying amount of chemistry with a man popularly known as "the Devil" by the criminal underworld. And for good reason too. He is as ruthless as they come, with a penchant for perfection that shows in all his assassinations, sporting a huge amount of political influence as a mafia boss that is crazy to begin to contemplate, as well as the kind of good looks to make any woman want to sin. Badly.

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

I smiled, and it was a cold, terrifying sight that silenced the room. “The incentive is that I will spare his life and ensure the Volkov organization becomes his new, primary lender. His life for Salvatore’s location. No more. No less.” Kahlil does not know me. He thinks I am a man who negotiates profit. He is wrong. I am a man who only negotiates vengeance. He will not risk his empire for a dead man like Damon Salvatore. The Italian beast, Rocco, now controls the sea. The Volkov financial web controls the shore. And I, the Devil of Moscow, control the fate of the man who dared to touch my home.

The salty tang of the sea clung to the air, laced with the sharp sting of gasoline. He paused, pulling a matchbook from his pocket, his teeth holding his cigarette steady as he struck a flame. The flare painted his scarred face in orange light before he tossed it down. Gasoline trails hissed alive, orange tongues racing across the ground. Within seconds, the first warehouse caught. Then another. Then another.

replied Devon, who took Mikaila's cigarette and put it out. "My room has just been perfumed. Don't ruin it with your cigarette smoke," said Devon, quickly cutting off Mikaila, who was just about to try to protest. "Uncle, you won't die with just one of my cigarettes," Mikaila continued. "Then what did you come for? Did you come to sell your friend?" said Devon, walking towards the wine rack and taking out three glasses. "If your friend is useless, then sell it. Isn't that what you told me?" said Mikaila, taking the glass from the hand of the man she called uncle. No blood was connected between their bodies, but the bond between her father and Devon was more potent than blood.

Zachariah and Michael sat in a white van, watching all the doors: Blue Dragon Ink, Satan’s Bar, The Garage. There was a constant stream of huge guys going in and out, all wearing black leather cuts. The logo on their backs read ‘The Road Devils’, and so it was pretty obvious that the Guardians were in the right place.

To Be Continued… SEX WITH THE DEVIL