Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  His eyes widen. Her desire to be able to protect herself showing that she may be more suited to our world than he thinks.

  “I’ll take responsibility for her,” I add.

  “Horse has got that.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “He know it?” Drum’s eyes narrow.

  “Not yet,” I admit. “But I’ll talk to him.”

  His fingers start tapping the table once more, a rhythmic drumming that might have gotten on my nerves had I not known it meant the prez is deep in thought. I know why he’s worried, bringing an outsider in is always risky. Despite how careful we try to be, there’s always a chance club business will be overheard, or two and two put together about some of our comings and goings, and we need to be able to trust people we have in the clubhouse. I feel Wheels is solid, but the brothers will need to be convinced of that too. Because what I’m suggesting is that she becomes a permanent fixture.

  Suddenly both of Drum’s hands slap down on the desktop. “You’ve got a week. Bring it to church on Friday, and you better have something to persuade us by then.”

  Not quite sure how I’m going to achieve that but thinking maybe I’ll have the time to talk to her in Utah, I nod my head to agree. I’ll think of something, and Peg, our sergeant-at-arms, will be with us the whole time. His view will count for a lot. His role means he’s responsible for the safety of the club and its members.

  Drum’s still watching me intently, and I gaze steadily back. “Now there’s the question of going against me. Not gonna be able to let that go.”

  I hold my breath. I deserve to be reprimanded. It wouldn’t be a good example to the others if he lets me get away without any form of punishment, even though apparently everyone could see it coming. While I don’t think he’d go so far as to have my patch, I could lose my position as VP.

  He makes me wait for it, then says, his lips curling, knowing he’s making me suffer, “Standard fine.”

  Letting the air from my lungs out as a sigh of relief, I nod my agreement, knowing how lightly he’s let me off. A fifty-dollar fine is nothing to me.

  “You got everything sorted for your trip?” He’s moving on.

  “Peg’s dealing with the specifics, I’m just going along for the ride.” And one heck of a long ride it’s going to be. The kind I live for. Why would anyone be in an MC and not love the feel of the open road beneath them and the wind in their hair? Too long inside and I start to suffocate.

  “And for the woman’s protection,” he reminds me to keep my mind on the job.

  “Yeah, but I’m not expecting trouble. No one knows she’s with us, or about her going to Utah.”

  “Always expect trouble, VP,” Drum tells me, his face twisting into a smirk. Then he gives an imperious wave and I’m dismissed.

  He didn’t need to tell me that I’m going along to keep Wheels safe. I’ve personal reasons for doing that. So after leaving his office, I continue my original plan and walk down the corridor and knock on another door, pushing it open as soon as I get an answer. Inside there’s a desk covered in all manner of shit—empty bottles, cans, an overflowing ashtray, and in the only clear space in the middle, a couple of monitors which the occupant is gazing at intently. Using my hand to waft away the smoke that has a distinct odour of cannabis, I step inside.

  “Hey, Mouse,” I greet my brother. “Any chatter about our girl?”

  “Your girl.” He grins. “Couldn’t you have waited a bit? Lost me a heap of money.” Word has obviously already gotten around.

  I don’t want to encourage him so I ignore his comment. “Just wanted to check whether there’s any need to be concerned about our trip?”

  “Nah, Peg’s already asked me. It’s a bit of a risk as he had to give them her full name and details so they could get hold of her medical records from England, but I’ve checked the clinic and surprisingly their system’s reasonably secure. And someone would have to know she needs a new prosthesis at exactly this point to be checking all such places. Bit of a long shot―even if I was the one doing the searching. And we’ve provided a decoy address as a temporary one. I’ve used a hotel in Phoenix. There’s nothing to connect her with the clubhouse. Even Peg uses his own address rather than the club one when he goes there.” Like a lot of the brothers, Peg has a home closer to the city, as living in such close proximity to each other can get wearing at times. To date, I’ve not seen the need, but that might need to change now.

  Mouse jerks his head toward the screen in front of him. “I’ll keep an eye on things while you’re gone. If anything comes up that looks worrying, I’ll let you know.”

  Satisfied, I thank him and leave him to it. Mouse is an interesting character, half Navajo, and his grandfather was one of the Navajo code talkers in the Second World War. Reckon he’s got code in his blood.

  Returning to the kitchen I’m not pleased to find there’s a definite chill to the atmosphere, and that Chrissy is hovering around Wheels.

  I enter just in time to hear the club whore say, “Just stay away from my man, you feel me?”

  I see red. “What the fuck?” I’m across the room in seconds, my hands taking hold of Chrissy’s shoulders and shaking her violently. “What fuckin’ garbage are you spouting to my woman?”

  Chrissy looks up at me, tears in her eyes. In a dramatic gesture she wipes them away. “But Wraith,” she starts in a simpering voice that grates on me like nails being scraped down a blackboard, “you and me, we…”

  “How many fuckin’ times do I have to tell you? There’s no fuckin’ ‘you and me’ you stupid fucking slut,” I roar, unable to believe she ever thought there was anything between us. “There never was! We had this out yesterday. You’re a fuckin’ sweet butt.”

  “But...”

  She just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Disgust wells up inside me as I realise my hands are still on her, and I throw her away from me, not caring she stumbles and ends up on her ass. Instead of helping her up, I lean over her, my features taut with anger as I shout right into her face. “You are nothing but a whore. You get me? A convenient hole. There was and never will be anything between us. Now get the fuck out of here and never, ever speak to Wheels again!”

  As I’ve been shouting, she’s been inching away from me, the tone of my voice at last getting through to her. But she has one more try. “But I love you, Wraith.”

  “You don’t know the fuckin’ meaning of the word. Love? You love the idea of being an ol’ lady and don’t fuckin’ care whose bike it is you’re riding on.” I straighten, my hands going up and tunneling through my hair.

  “Get out, Chrissy.” It’s Heart—he must have entered sometime during the altercation. He’s standing in the doorway, his daughter Amy with him. He’s got her turned into his body, his hands covering her ears. Crystal’s here too, and she goes straight over to Wheels, her arms encircling my girl giving her the comfort I should be.

  Slowly Chrissy stands, giving me one last pitiful look and then her gaze turns to Wheels. Although she tries to hide it, I don’t miss how her expression changes in an instant to one of pure hatred, putting all my senses on high alert. She’s stupid, but not so much that she does anything other than walk straight past, pushing Heart and Amy aside as she leaves through the door.

  “Fuckin’ bitch,” Heart snarls as he kneels down to make sure his daughter is okay.

  Leaving him to deal with his family, I go over to Wheels. Crystal is talking to her in a low voice, but loud enough for me to hear.

  “Don’t let that slut get to you, Wheels. She’s had her claws into Wraith for ages.”

  I hunker down so I can look her straight in the eyes and reach for her hands and take hold of them. I answer the question she doesn’t have to voice out loud. “She’s not for me, babe. Whatever claim she thinks she has, she’s very mistaken.”

  She returns my gaze and I can’t read anything in her eyes. Fuck, has that bitch ruined this before we even had a chance? As I look into her steel-blue o
rbs, I haven’t a clue what she’s thinking, and then she goes and surprises the fuck out of me when she laughs.

  “I’m not dense, Wraith. You’ve got a past, I’ve got a past. But as long as you’re not going to be fucking around while you’re fucking me, I couldn’t give a damn about who you’ve slept with before.”

  Her strong words make me chuckle, and I let out a breath as my tension slips away, but I have to set her right. “Babe, there wasn’t any sleeping involved. No one’s stayed the night with me―except when I was blind drunk and wasn’t conscious to know better. I fucked the sluts. End of story.”

  I expected her face to soften as she realises what an exception I made for her last night, and one which I’ll be repeating often if I get my way, but instead she gets a faraway look in her eyes, and once again I get a feeling of unease. Am I reading her wrong? Isn’t she into this as much as me?

  But then the moment of uncertainty is gone as she makes a suggestion, “Take me back to my room?” It’s phrased as a question. She fucking winks at me and the smirk accompanying it suggests she wants to stake a claim, and I’m all for that. My cock strains at my jeans, clearly saying it’s up for that too.

  Back in her room, we waste no time getting our clothes off. It’s a race to see who gets naked first and I end up hopping around with my pants around my ankles, having forgotten to take my boots off first. Fuck, I can’t get enough of this woman―and it’s only been a few hours since I’ve been inside her. With the club whores, I never went back for seconds without a good long gap in between, wanting variety rather than a repeat performance. But with Wheels it’s completely different. Already I suspect I’ll never want another woman again.

  Before sliding inside her hot, slick, welcoming channel, I feel the need to justify myself. “Wheels,” I start, “Chrissy…”

  “Just shut up about her and fuck me!”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  The rest of the day goes past much like it started, sex until we were completely drained interspersed with short forays out for food. Oh, and one trip out for me when I heard Horse return. I told him my intention to claim her and, after questioning me as though he was her father rather than her friend, he agreed that responsibility for her would pass to me. To be honest, he’d have met my fist if he’d come up with any objections. Not letting anyone get in my way. Uh-uh.

  I simply can’t get enough of this woman, and by the time we fell asleep I’m utterly exhausted. So much so that when after I wake her early Sunday morning—in a predictable way―I swear my balls have shrunk and are feeling sore, and a thirteen-hour bike ride doesn’t hold its usual attraction.

  We set off early at five a.m., but even so, given the breaks we’ll need―mainly due to having to stop to fill up the bikes―will not be arriving at our destination until late in the evening. Peg’s driving the cage, the nondescript SUV we keep for such trips, and I and the prospect are on our bikes behind. Drummer’s choice of Hank made sense. I’m on my pride and joy, an FXR, the Harley citizens didn’t like the look of what wasn’t a popular model, but its sturdy frame makes handling a breeze at speed. Hank’s on his beautifully restored and heavily customised older model Night Train. Both bikes have the larger five-gallon tanks, which means we won’t be needing to stop quite as often. If Marsh or Spider had come along, we’d have been stopping more often, as their bikes are fitted with the smaller tanks with only just over half the range.

  As we’re travelling out of area we make our first stop just before the border of our territory, taking off our cuts and replacing them with sweatshirts carrying the more discreet SDMC lettering—enough to let those in the know realise who we are, but making sure no one else would bother us. Hopefully it means we shouldn’t randomly get pulled over by the heat, or appear on the radar of a rival MC. We take the opportunity to fill up with gas, and as we pull away, I yawn deeply, feeling a fleeting envy for Wheels and her opportunity to sleep on the way, but I don’t begrudge her. She looked worn out this morning. I can’t help the sense of pride that fills me. I did that to her.

  Before we head off again, I glance over at Hank, who’s delaying getting back on his ride.

  “Come on.” I’m impatient to get on the move again. Peg’s leaning out of the window of the cage, an irritated expression on his face.

  Hank’s shaking his head, now kneeling and patting his hands around the ground under his bike.

  “What the fuck is it, Prospect?” I’m starting to wonder whether he's got a problem. I hope not, I don’t want to delay.

  “Lost my gremlin bell,” he murmurs, so quietly, it’s difficult to hear him.

  “For fuck’s sake, buy another one!” We’ve a long distance to go and I’m eager to get started.

  With one last look around, Hank, with a look of desolation on his face, finally puts on his brain bucket and sunglasses and we’re ready to go.

  All that fuss about a damn toy!

  Initially following the I-10, then the I-17, we head up toward Flagstaff where we take Highway 89. Our destination is a city near the northern border of Utah, so basically we’ll be heading straight up all the way. Once on the freeway Peg puts his foot down, and I sit back to enjoy the ride, twisting the nut to hold the throttle in position to give my hand a break. In my head, I’m planning road trips Wheels and I could take once she’s sorted out with a prosthesis and that fucking contract is done and dealt with. I can’t wait until she's at last able to ride behind me without fear of anyone coming after her. Sedona and the Grand Canyon come to my mind or, in the other direction, Tombstone―visitors from England always seem fascinated to visit the O.K. Corral. Knowing this is her first trip to the United States, I’m sure there are plenty of other places she’d like to visit as well. Closer to home is the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum. But does she even like things like that?

  I’ve got a lot to learn about her, so don’t know what she’s into. But for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to finding what makes a woman tick—other than the obvious of course. The options going around my head keep me occupied for a good part of the journey, and as we’re not particularly expecting trouble today, I take the time to indulge in my thoughts.

  It’s easy riding, a hundred odd miles on the I-10, then a hundred and fifty on the I-17. When Peg turns on his indicator after a couple of hours on the road my tanks starting to get pretty empty, and I imagine Hank’s is the same. Peg pulls the SUV over in front of the coffee shop, and as I pull up alongside the pump, I see him get the wheelchair out of the back, unfold it, and lift Wheels out. I want to deck him for manhandling my woman, but suppress that desire understanding it’s a must. By the time she’s seated and is wheeling herself inside, I’ve finished filling up so I move my bike up beside the SUV and go to meet her, helping her find her way to the disabled bathroom while Peg buys some drinks and orders breakfast for the four of us.

  Joining us at the table, Wheels stretches her arms and rolls her head on her neck. “The thing I hate,” she starts to tell us, “is not being able to walk around and stretch my legs.”

  Peg places his hand on hers, and when she turns to face him, replies, “You will soon.”

  Then he catches my glare, laughs loudly, and puts his hand back where it belongs―anywhere but on her.

  I move my chair so I’m sitting closer beside her. The waitress comes to fill up our coffee cups and later returns with the food.

  “Jeez, what’s this?” Wheels is looking at her plate with wide eyes, then she glances at me. “How the hell am I supposed to eat all this?”

  With a start, I realise it’s the first time she’s been out of the compound since she arrived from England more than two months ago. Lots of things are going to be strange to her. And what she’s got in front of her is a typical American breakfast, so I shrug. “Eat what you can.” I can’t suppress a grin when in the end she eats it all, her moans of pleasure at the combination of maple syrup, pancakes, and crisp bacon going straight to my dick. Finally, she seems
surprised at her clean plate.

  “Hey, Prospect, who’s killed your dog?” I notice the usually ebullient Hank is surprisingly quiet.

  Lifting his shoulders almost to the ears, he drops them again in a gesture of defeat. “Can’t believe I lost my gremlin bell.”

  I bark a laugh. “Is that all?”

  He tosses me a frown. “Don’t want to break down and hold you up.”

  Fuck, he really does believe that shit. I give him a playful thump on his arm.

  “What’s a gremlin bell?” Wheels asks, her head tilted to one side.

  Peg answers, “Gremlins love to cause trouble to bikers, darlin’. They live on yer bike causing all types of problems or making you lay it down. The bell keeps them away. Gremlins can’t take the ringing, you see? Drives them mad, so they drop off your bike, wait on the roadside, then hop on someone else’s.”

  She grins and leaning over pats Hank’s hand. I notice he moves his away fast and casts a glance my way. Now he’s more worried about his VP’s woman touching him than his fucking toy, so I suppose that’s all too good.

  Breakfast over, we get swiftly on our way. Eventually, after a couple more stops, the long ride comes to an end and we back the bikes into a straight line in front of the rooms Peg has pre-booked. I doubt any of us will have much trouble getting to sleep that night—except for Hank, of course, who has to stay alert to watch over the bikes.

  The next morning, we set off for the clinic. Taking pity on the prospect and leaving him at the motel, I stay outside while Peg and Wheels go in to do their thing. It feels cold to me, only about half the temperature we’d left in Tucson, but I’d wrapped up warm knowing what to expect, and at least the sun is shining. After a while, I visit a coffee shop over the road where I can sip a hot drink while still being able to keep an eye on my bike. Not that I expect anyone would fool with it around here, but hey, who’d want to take a chance?

  At last, I see familiar faces coming through the glass doors and am pleased to see a huge fucking smile on Wheels’ face, knowing without her having to tell me that everything had gone to plan.