Angelo's POV

The sun was unrelenting in its scorching heat.

Beads of sweat trickled down Angelo's face as he crouched in the dirt, his back aching while he uprooted weeds from the vegetable garden with more force than necessary.

When he took a moment to catch his breath, he eyed the shade of a large oak tree in the distance. What he wouldn't give to nap underneath it for a few minutes...

"It ain't break time!" Roger, the SCR member assigned to babysit him this morning, called from his seat a few feet away. "Keep it moving, young buck."

"Jesus Christ, I'm just trying to catch my breath," Angelo snapped. "Give me a second, will you?"

"We've barely been out here an hour. You can't be tired already." Despite the dark sunglasses concealing his eyes, Angelo could still sense the old man following his every move. "Or maybe you really are as weak as you look."

"Asshole," Angelo muttered, getting back to work.

When Lucifer told him that he would put Angelo to work today, gardening was the last thing Angelo had anticipated. He had assumed his hacking skills would be utilized in some way, not his nonexistent green thumb.

Mocking laughter drifted over from Roger after a fat worm popped out to surprise Angelo. He was about to issue a smart retort when approaching footsteps caused him to pause.

Oh, great. Now to deal with his bullshit. Angelo suppressed an eye roll when he looked up and found Lucifer staring at him with his signature panty-dropping smirk.

The man looked infuriatingly calm and collected compared to Angelo's sweaty, dirt-streaked appearance.

"Looking good out here," Lucifer commented.

A cold bottle of water dangled from one hand. He offered it to Angelo, who hesitated for a split second before removing his gloves and accepting it.

"Thanks," Angelo said as he stood. He pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face, unintentionally showcasing the toned muscles beneath his sweat-drenched skin. "You people continue to surprise me."

"How so?" Lucifer shoved his hands into his pockets, one eyebrow cocked.

"All of this—" Angelo waved a hand at the thriving garden. "It's the last thing I expected to find on the property of murderous bikers." He twisted the cap off and gulped down the ice-cold water. "Not saying anything's wrong with eating healthy or whatever."

Lucifer laughed. It was a sexy type of sound that sent an uninvited flutter through Angelo's stomach. "Sorry, but what exactly were you expecting to find here?"

"I don't know. Graves filled with the bodies of your enemies?" Angelo shrugged while Lucifer's gaze made another blatant sweep over his body.

"I dug deeper into your past," Lucifer said after a moment. "Wasn't much there, unfortunately."

Angelo kept quiet, unsure of where this was going.

"Your parents are definitely dead, like you told me."

"I'd never lie about something like that."

"You have no close friends, like you also mentioned, at least not in real life. Maybe some online."

"Maybe."

"It's all a bit sad, really." Lucifer's voice took on a note of mock pity. "Have you always lived like a loner?"

Anger flared in Angelo's chest. Sad? What right did this arrogant dick have to stand there and judge his life?

"Either get to your point or let me get back to working on your stupid garden," Angelo muttered. "Please."

"I'm getting there. One thing you didn't tell me during our date—"

"That wasn't a date."

"—is that you had a full-ride scholarship to college. What happened to make you not take it? How'd you go from a successful student to operating a criminal business on the dark web?"

The defensive walls around Angelo rose swiftly. His fists clenched, the water bottle crackling in his grasp.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, "but I'm not here to get close to you. I'm here to be your club's hacker, so let's not play Dr. Phil. That look doesn't suit you."

Something flashed in Lucifer's eyes.

He stepped forward until they were nearly chest to chest. This close, Angelo could almost see the darkness swirling in his irises, could smell his leather and vanilla scent over Roger's cigarette smoke.

"My point," Lucifer said softly, "is that as much as you despise me as a person, we're more alike than you think. We might even play well together if you weren't so damn uptight and judgmental."

A tumultuous energy crackled between them as they stared at each other. Angelo's heartbeat pounded in his ears, confusion clouding his racing thoughts.

One minute, he wanted nothing more than to see Lucifer dead in a ditch somewhere, out of his life for good. Then, in a very dark corner of his mind, he wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped in Lucifer's deadly arms, to have that wicked mouth moving against his.

No! Fuck no. What the hell am I thinking? Angelo broke eye contact first.

It had to be the heat. Yeah, that. All this time out in the blazing sun had fried his brain a little. There was simply no other explanation for his insane desires.

"Lucifer!" Jameson's voice called from nearby. "Church in five minutes. Move your ass."

Lucifer took a step back, his face blank. "I'll have your things delivered to you by the end of the day."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode off across the lawn to meet up with Jameson.

Angelo released a shaky breath. He had to be losing his goddamn mind. That or he had unconsciously succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome. How on earth could he think such things about Lucifer? His captor. A man who'd threatened to kill him more than once.

A man who might have actual ties to the Devil, and not just by name.

"You know he wants to fuck you, right?"

Angelo whipped around to find Roger suddenly standing in his personal bubble.

"E-excuse me?" Angelo sputtered, heat flushing his cheeks. "You said what now?"

Roger tossed his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. "You know the saying, don't shit where you eat?"

Angelo nodded. "I've heard it before."

"Prez is usually good at sticking to the rules we made. There's one in specific about fucking. If you ever wanna get your dick wet around here, go for it. Just don't let it be with a brother, someone's Ol' lady or Property, or with anyone else living under our roof."

"Sorry. Are you suggesting he wants to break that rule with me? His hostage?"

"None of us are blind, and neither are you from what I could tell." Roger's eyes followed Lucifer's retreating figure. "We all see how he's been looking at you. And honestly, you should be grateful."

"Grateful?" Angelo barked an incredulous laugh. "Why should I be grateful that bastard wants in my pants?"

"Because Prez wanting to get up close and personal with you is the only thing keeping you alive."

The words hit Angelo like a bucket of ice water, dousing the simmer of anger and unwanted lust. His smirk slipped away, and he swallowed hard.

"You seem like a decent kid," Roger continued, "so I'll give you some free advice, just this once."

"I'm listening."

"If you wanna live to see another sunrise, don't give Prez what he wants. Because the minute he gets bored with you, you're as good as dead."

A chill crept down Angelo's spine despite the muggy heat. He looked over to where Lucifer stood, deep in conversation with Jameson. The two men wore matching frowns. Anger rolled off Lucifer in waves, his aura of power and ruthlessness almost tangible.

And yet, some idiotic part of Angelo still felt the traitorous pull of desire toward the maniac.

This time, however, Roger's words rang loudly. The old man had made a good point. The second Angelo gave in to Lucifer's charms, he would be nothing but another body in an unmarked grave.

So, perhaps, giving Lucifer a taste of his own game and toying with the biker's obvious want, could buy Angelo the time he needed to plan his escape.

The problem—Angelo didn't know the first thing about what it took to seduce someone, let alone a killer.