Angelo's POV

This job is going to get me killed one day.

Angelo looked up from his phone when the chat window on his computer screen maximized, signaling he had a new message from his client with the most unique username ever—Phil123.

Phil123: Any progress?

Kai: Only found a bunch of useless documents.

Kai: Still looking through them.

At the cost of half a million dollars, Phil wanted Angelo's help to bring down the Seventh Circle Riders MC. Their President's name was Lucifer—yes, his parents really wrote that down on his birth certificate—and his MC was the state's deadliest.

Angelo once had a full-ride scholarship to his dream college, so he was far from dense. This was a job he should've immediately declined. But it was also the key to him leaving the country and starting anew.

No more living a life of crime. No more stressing whether today would be the day the Feds connected him to his notorious hacker alias and locked his ass up.

Angelo was down so badly in life that he bet his future on the rage Phil held against the MC for, allegedly, beating his son and getting away with it. No arrests were made, and Phil's son could barely walk afterward.

Phil wanted revenge. Angelo wanted money.

Now, after two weeks of trying to break through the MCs digital fortress, Angelo finally got through this morning. He was going on hour six of scrolling through mundane files, all boring documents and a few receipts for the club's charitable donations. A pleasant surprise from a group of hardened criminals.

I need a break. Angelo leaned back in his chair and rubbed his burning eyes.

He closed them for a second, and his mind drifted back to the horror stories whispered about the Seventh Circle Riders. The latest was about a man who had picked a fight with a member at a nightclub. The man was found dead of an overdose in his car the next morning. How convenient.

Another ping from the computer brought Angelo back down to reality. It was Phil again.

Phil123: Just useless documents? Those bastards almost killed my son!

Phil123: The cops are worthless. I need this club to go down but I can't do shit without solid evidence.

Phil123: You have to find something! Anything!!

Angelo sighed.

He loved working with rich clients like Phil. They were so desperate to the point of being willing to go broke to get what they wanted. But he also hated working with them because they expected him to magically fix their problem right then and there.

Kai: I'm a hacker, not a miracle worker.

Phil's response was immediate.

Phil123: Can you become one if I add on another $500k for completing the job?

Angelo stared at the screen in shock as he processed the numbers.

Their original deal of half a million was that Angelo would receive $50k upfront, and then another $50k for every piece of information that proved to be accurate. Adding another $500k to the mix would bring Angelo's total payout to a million dollars.

It was life-changing money. More than enough for him to disappear.

His fingers shook as he typed out a reply.

Kai: I'll visit their club this weekend to see what I can find.

Phil123: Excellent. Be safe.

Angelo slumped back in his chair, partially regretting his impulsive decision.

He was the type of introvert who only ever left his apartment unless it was necessary. Like, he was down to the last roll of toilet paper necessary. The thought of entering a nightclub full of men he was actively trying to get dirt on made his stomach flip.

Ever since losing his parents, he had become even more antisocial and anxious. But the temptation of a million dollars overrode all that.

I just hope I don't end up getting murdered before the deposit hits.

A knock at the front door tugged Angelo away from his spiraling thoughts. Must be the takeout he had ordered twenty minutes ago. Dragging a hand down his face, he pushed away from his desk to get his food.

He peered through the peephole expecting to see the delivery driver. Instead, a face that haunted the nightmares of half the city stood in the hallway.

It was Lucifer Byrne—President of the Seventh Circle Riders MC.

No! I was so careful...

The pictures online didn't do the man any justice.

Lucifer was tall and lean, had close-cropped brown curls, and a five o'clock shadow. He wore a white T-shirt partly concealed by a black leather jacket and dark jeans that accentuated his muscular thighs. One hand was behind his back, and he hadn't come alone. He brought a member with him.

Angelo was fucked.

I can't die like this! There's no fucking way...

With sweaty palms, Angelo rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife he could find. He never had to confront an angry mark before, so his skills for negotiating were about as sharp as a rubber blade.

The doorknob jiggled.

Shit, shit, shit!

The lock clicked, and the door swung inward. Angelo barely registered the motion because time slowed.

Lucifer stepped inside with a gun aimed at his head, a silencer attached. The other biker looked more the part. Various patches covered his distressed cut, and he wore the same blank expression as Lucifer.

"I'm pretty good at headshots." Lucifer shut the door with his foot, eyes glued on Angelo. "Do you want to find out if that's true or not, Mr. Chapman?"

He was already using Angelo's government name. Definitely not a good sign.

Angelo fought to keep his voice steady. "No."

"Then drop the knife and keep your hands where I can see them," Lucifer ordered.

The knife clattered to the floor.

Angelo held his empty hands up by his shoulders, his heart slamming against his ribs. He watched as Lucifer's gaze traveled over him slowly, up and down twice, as if appraising him.

The air shifted a bit, crackling with an electric charge that felt good and bad.

"You know what? I have something else for you," Lucifer smirked, lowering his gun. "Guess it's your lucky day. I usually shoot first and ask questions later."

The other biker snorted. "He ain't lying."

"Why are you here?" Angelo asked, feeling unbearably exposed. "What do you people want from me?"

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly why I'm here."

Angelo kept silent.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find the little rat trying to sneak into my shit?" Lucifer questioned. "I gotta hand it to you, though. You were a hard man to hunt down, Mr. Chapman. Or do you prefer Angelo?"

"I'd prefer you tell me what it is you have for me instead of dragging whatever this is out," Angelo said. "Please."

Lucifer laughed and took another step forward, eyes flicking over Angelo's computer equipment and dingy furniture. His style in the apartment was like any other twenty-five year old male—minimalistic and colorless.

"You're either batshit crazy or dumb as a box of rocks to fuck with me," Lucifer said. "Are you working alone or for someone else?"

"I-I..."

"It's a simple question, so don't give me a complicated answer. My patience is already thin."

Angelo swallowed hard. He was so nervous he could hear his pulse thundering in his ears. With a million dollars on the line, it didn't matter that death was staring him in the face. He couldn't give up Phil.

"I'm sorry, but I-I can't disclose that information."

"Can't?" Lucifer repeated.

Quick as a snake, he raised his gun and fired off to the left. The window exploded in a shower of glass, and Angelo flinched violently as if he'd gotten hit.

"Can't is such an ugly word, isn't it?" Lucifer prowled closer. "I think you meant to say you will. So I'll ask one last time—who the fuck are you working for?"

To hell with the money. Angelo wanted to live!

"A client!" he blurted out, voice cracking. "I'm working for a client. They hired me to get dirt on you and your club. That's it, I swear! Please don't kill me."

Lucifer lowered the gun. "This client got a name?"

"No. What I do isn't exactly legal," Angelo muttered. "I never ask for personal information from people who contact me. Everything remains anonymous on the dark web."

Closing the distance between them, Lucifer looked even more beautiful and deadly up close. Angelo could see his eyes were two different colors, one a stormy greenish-brown and the other an icy blue. A shiver rolled down his spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"Apart from you being intelligent and...fuckable," Lucifer's lips quirked, knowing damn well the effect he was having on Angelo. "It'd be a waste to wipe out Kai, the famous hacker extraordinaire."

Angelo's breath caught. Lucifer must've had his people dig deep to uncover his alias, one he shared with trusted clients only.

"So I've got a proposal for you," Lucifer continued.

Angelo blinked, confused. "I'm listening."

"I want you to end whatever contracts you have in play and come work for me. Exclusively."

"I'm sorry, w-what?" Angelo would laugh at the absurd request if not for the gravity of the situation.

"My previous hacker had to...retire, since he wasn't competent enough to keep you out of our shit. We're vulnerable now thanks to you, so it's only right you take responsibility and fix the mess you caused."

"What..." Angelo licked his dry lips. "W-what happens if I decline?"

"Now that's a stupid question."

That sharp smile returned, dark and full of everything wicked. Lucifer used his gun to brush Angelo's long, black hair over his shoulder. A gesture that was possessive as much as it was threatening.

"If you decline," Lucifer said, "I'll have to go back on my word and kill you."

Author's Note: My series, CLAIMING HIM, can be read as standalone books. If you'd like to check out Book 1, CLAIMED BY THE BEAST, you can read it now for a limited time on my Tapas profile! If it's no longer there, you can read it (for free) at the link in the description. Thanks for your support! —Amy