The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet

by Faiman, Hayley

  “There’s no budget,” the gruff man announces.

  I jump, having forgotten that he was even standing in front of me. I don’t know how—he’s the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, that one. Can I please see that one?” the woman asks, pointing to one of our most expensive vintage inspired pieces. The clarity is the best we carry, and it’s designer—completely outstanding.

  “Put it on,” he grumbles. I hand it to her to try on. The man nods and then orders me to ring it up.

  “Sir, this ring is forty-five thousand dollars,” I whisper as my brows knit together.

  I know that I shouldn’t judge the amount of money people have based on their clothing, or anything at all. I try really hard not to judge people in general, but this is almost fifty-thousand dollars. It’s definitely not peanuts.

  “Ring. It. Up,” he growls as he leans forward over the counter.

  I jump again and take the ring from the woman, hurrying to the cash register to ring up the purchase. My hands are shaking with each button I push, and I really wish that Gina were back already.

  I scurry to the couple and hand him a piece of paper with his total, including tax. I watch as he glances at it and then hands me his credit card.

  My eyes widen as I take it from him. A credit card. He’s going to pay with a credit card. I can’t even fathom having a credit line for that much money.

  “I’m sorry, but you look really familiar. Can you tell me your name? I’m better with names than faces,” the girl says sweetly.

  I try to hurry and run Maxfield Duhart’s credit card, telling her that I don’t think we’ve ever met. I would never forget a girl as pretty as her, not ever. She should be on a fashion runway modeling—she’s that tall, thin, and stunning.

  “I’m Mary-Anne,” she offers with a kind smile.

  “Cleo, my name is Cleo,” I whisper, glancing at Maxfield; or, more importantly, the patch on his vest that reads Notorious Devils.

  I smile and finish ringing them up. I give the receipt for him to sign, and then hand them the little, light pink bag with leopard print tissue paper; Lisandro’s signature design and color scheme. I do all of this with a shaky smile.

  Maxfield takes it from me, but his eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s staring at me with a look that I can’t quite describe. I really, really, wish he would just—go.

  The two of them walk out of the store, and I place my hands on the clean counter and let out a breath. I don’t know who he was, and I don’t care, but he has to be part of Paxton’s group, or gang, or whatever it is, making him dangerous, according to Theo.

  Where the hell is Gina? I wonder again, really wishing she would get her skinny ass back here.

  TORCH

  I throw back another shot, everybody sensing my mood and giving me a wide berth—thank fuck. I don’t want to talk to anyone, and I sure as shit don’t want to fuck. I want to sit right where I’m at and drown myself, wading in self pity because she’s gone.

  My Cleo is fucking gone.

  I know it’s all my fault, too. Nobody to blame but me. I ruined her when she was just eighteen years old, and I never fucking stopped. Only now, she’s probably living a hell she never dreamed possible.

  “Pres,” I slur into my phone after I pick it up from dancing across the table.

  “I found her,” he announces. I blink before I ask a question I never thought I would have to about my sweet girl.

  “Dead?”

  “At work. Didn’t you check her job?”

  “What?” I cry. “Of course, I checked her job. She’s a receptionist at an attorney’s office in Sacramento,” I explain.

  MadDog proceeds to explain that she’s workin’ at a jewelry store, here—which is Redding, because there ain’t shit in Shasta. Then he describes her, and I know, just from the few words, it’s her.

  My Cleo.

  My fucking wife.

  “Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be there in five,” I say, ignoring the fact that it takes an hour to get to Redding from the clubhouse.

  “You’ll have Camo drive you,” he orders. I growl and open my mouth to reply. “West’ll drive you and that’s a fuckin’ order,” he says, beating me to it.

  “Fine,” I snap as I end the call and walk over to West.

  “You’re takin’ me to town,” I demand.

  “I am?”

  “Pres’ orders. I need to get to where he is. A jewelry store.”

  Camo nods as he stands, and then I watch as he takes out his phone. I walk behind him, adrenaline pumping through my system, so much of it that I no longer feel the effects of the alcohol I’ve been consuming. No, now I feel wired as fuck.

  This shit with Cleo, it ends now.

  I’m going to protect her, and she doesn’t get a say in how I do that anymore. I don’t know how she ended up practically in my backyard, or why she left the way she did—leaving all her shit back in SacTown—but I aim to get to the bottom of the whole goddamn story. Today.

  “Who’re we gonna go see?” Camo asks once we’re halfway to our destination.

  “My wife,” I grunt. The truck swerves slightly before he rights it and continues driving.

  “I didn’t know you had an Old Lady.”

  “Married her twelve years ago. Haven’t seen her in eleven, until I moved here,” I admit. Just saying the words out loud makes me feel like the giant piece of shit that I am.

  “What happened?” he asks before he clears his throat, mumbling, “never mind.”

  “Was a fuckin’ stupid ass twenty-year-old back from war. Wasn’t right in the head. That’s what happened, more or less,” I shrug.

  I omit the part where I was fucked up before I even joined the Air Force and the war. It just added to my fuzzy head. Then there’s Cleo, best thing that happened to me, and I sabotaged it because I was a pussy. Still am, probably, if I think hard enough about it.

  “We’re almost there. Your shit locked down?” Camo asks.

  “Not even close,” I admit.

  Chapter Seven

  CLEO

  I’m a jittery, nervous wreck. I’m tempted to call Theo more than once, but I decide against it, especially after Gina walks through the door. She looks all dazed with a small smile playing on her lips.

  “What were you out doing for so long?” I snap, regretting it immediately.

  “Uh, I had lunch with this guy I’ve been seeing,” she whispers, her eyes wide.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled,” I murmur, looking down at my feet.

  A customer walks in and we both drop our conversation, unable to pick it back up; between breaks and customers meandering in, we don’t get to really talk again. Gina takes off at the end of her shift, leaving me to work for another thirty minutes by myself.

  I try to keep busy by cleaning the glass, and I’m so thankful when my alarm rings, alerting me that it’s time to close up shop. It takes me another thirty minutes to do all of my closing duties, and then I let out a sigh of relief as I set the alarm, walk out, and lock the front door behind me.

  With my head down, I walk toward Lisandro’s black Jeep Cherokee, stumbling when my eyes catch a figure leaning against it. I lift my head the rest of the way and gasp at the sight in front of me.

  Paxton.

  “How’d you find me?” I whisper, my feet frozen to their spot.

  “Why were you hiding from me?” he counters, unmoving.

  “My friend talked to me. He told me that your group is dangerous.”

  “He?” he asks with a growl.

  “Yeah, he. What on earth are you into, Pax?” I ask, tipping my head to the side.

  “This his ride? You stayin’ with him? He keeping you hidden?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  “Answer me,” I say, snapping for the second time today.

  Paxton doesn’t answer. He closes the distance between us with two short strides and then wraps one hand around my waist, the other around the side o
f my neck—something he likes to do when he’s trying to keep me still, I’ve noticed.

  “Club’s not a bunch of choir boys, sweetheart. Told you that already. What I wanna know is why the fuck you ran off the way you did? Why you been hiding? And why in the fuck didn’t you call me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m gone, and I’m safe now. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I can continue to work under the table and nobody will even realize I’ve left; except my landlord, who will just throw all my stuff away and then rent out my fully furnished apartment to someone new,” I explain.

  Paxton jerks his head back as though I’ve physically assaulted him with my words. He then dips his chin, lowering his face to mine so that he’s only a hair’s breadth away from my face.

  “It matters. I asked because it fuckin’ matters to me, Cleo. Tell me,” he demands.

  “Just go, Pax. I’ll call you when I have divorce papers drawn up. You can sign them and then you can be done,” I sigh.

  Paxton picks me up slightly and carries me toward the Jeep, pushing my back up against the door as he presses his hips against my stomach and lowers his face again to just in front of mine.

  “No divorce, sweetheart. Fuck that. You’re my wife, and we’re gonna fix this shit. I wanna know why in the hell you ran off the way you did?” he demands.

  “There’s nothing to fix, Paxton. Don’t be crazy,” I grind out, pressing my hands against his chest and pushing him. He’s rock solid and doesn’t move even a millimeter.

  “There’s plenty of shit to fix; but good news, Clee, you’re comin’ back with me, and we’ll have all the time in the world to fix ‘em,” he says with a grin.

  He’s crazy. Certifiable. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for his demands.

  “I have to go. I have to pick up Theo,” I say instead of calling him out on his craziness.

  “Who the fuck is Theo?” he barks in my face.

  “None of your business,” I snap back.

  His grip on my waist and the side of my neck tighten as he growls like an animal, his chest rumbling. Having him pressed up against me—tits to hips—I can feel the sound.

  “Think about the words you choose, Clee. Who the fuck is Theo?” he asks again.

  “A friend, okay?” I shout.

  “Not okay,” he counters.

  “He’s gay, Paxton. I’ve been staying with him and his lover—who is my best friend, Lisandro,” I exhale.

  “Why’d you run and not call me?” he asks, his voice softening a touch. I suck in a breath when he lowers his face. His nose skims my jawline and travels until his lips are at my ear. “Tell me, baby. Why didn’t you call me?” he whispers, sending chills throughout my body.

  Then I feel his hand slide up from my waist to just below my chest, his thumb gently grazing the side of my breast, slow and soft—so good.

  “I’d been asked out by an older guy, a client of my bosses. He intimidated me, frightened me a little, and caught me off guard. He had a Spanish last name. Then a black sedan was following me around. I freaked out, called Lisandro, and told him everything.

  “He and Theo came that night and made me pack a small bag, but told me to abandon everything else. They said your club was dangerous, and being mixed up with The Cartel—I didn’t need that. They want me to lay low for a while. I was going to call you and get the divorce started when I wasn’t a target anymore,” I say, spilling everything.

  “Got friends that care about you, hmm?” he whispers gently, pressing his lips to the spot just behind my earlobe.

  “Lis and I have been friends since I moved back to Cali,” I admit as my eyes roll in the back of my head.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know those fucks are not going to come after you. I’m going to find out about this guy who asked you out, too. I’ll keep you safe, baby, but you have to trust me to do that,” he murmurs.

  “You haven’t cared, ever. Why should I trust you now?” I ask.

  Paxton takes a step back, releasing me and leaving me surprised and cold. Then he narrows his eyes at me before he speaks. I expect his speech to be bitter, to feel the bite of his harsh words that I know are on the tip of his tongue, but he smiles and stormy eyes look so sad that it causes me to inhale a sharp breath.

  “I made a lot of mistakes, Cleo. I can admit that; and one day, you’ll understand why I did what I did; and maybe you might even be able to forgive me,” he murmurs. “But I thought I lost you, sweetheart. I thought you were fuckin’ dead. I can’t lose you.”

  “You pushed me away,” I whisper.

  “No more, Cleo. I’m not pushing you away from me again—swear to fuck.”

  TORCH

  I watch the silent battle happening, her eyes giving every thought away. Then she lifts her dazzling green gaze to meet mine, shifting her focus away from my throat. I’m practically holding my breath, waiting like a fucking pussy for her to speak to me. But I can’t push her. Not yet.

  I want her to make the right decision. If she doesn’t, I’ll do it for her; but it would be better all-around if she came willingly.

  “I don’t want Theo and Lis to be in danger,” she whispers. I grind my teeth together, pissed that she’s so concerned over these men and their safety, but not her own. “Can I continue to work here?”

  “This place is over an hour away from where I live,” I state.

  “I can’t leave Lis,” she murmurs.

  “You don’t have a choice, babe,” I grunt.

  Cleo’s eyes narrow, and I watch as she places her hand on her hip. The move makes me grin, and I wait with anticipation for her to bring out this new attitude of hers. She never had a mouth on her before, and I have to admit, it’s cute as fuck.

  “Are you going to kidnap me, then?” she asks, arching a brow in question.

  “Absolutely,” I shrug. Her eyes widen slightly, and she shakes her head.

  “I like working for Lis, and I’m good at it. I’ve never liked my job before, Pax. Please?” she pleads, changing tactics.

  “Clee,” I sigh, placing my hands on my hips and looking up to the sky.

  “Don’t take me away from my only friends. You want to keep me safe? Okay, fine. But don’t take me away from the only people who love me,” she says, placing her cool hand on my forearm.

  I think about her words for a second. The only people who love her? How can these two men be the only people who love her? Cleo is the sweetest woman I have ever known. I still love her. I couldn’t stop if I tried.

  “Sweetheart,” I rumble, cupping her cheek with my palm.

  “Please, Pax. What you want from me, I’ll give it, but don’t take me away from them,” she whispers.

  I close my eyes for a second and then open them, focusing on her green ones. She looks pained, stressed, and on the verge of tears. I trace her bottom lip with my thumb and nod once.

  “You come with me, in my bed and under my protection. You can still work here, but you’ll have a man at your back at all times,” I murmur.

  “A man at my back?” she asks, furrowing her brow in cute confusion.

  “Yeah, sweetheart. A man for protection. Me or one of my brothers will always be with you. I don’t know what’s going to happen with The Cartel, who or when they’ll strike, but I’m not leaving you swinging in the fuckin’ wind like a giant goddamn target, either.”

  “Okay, Pax,” she murmurs sweetly. I can’t help myself, I lower my chin and press my lips to hers.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart,” I urge.

  “This isn’t my car, and I need to pick up Theo from the pharmacy,” she explains.

  “Camo is right over there; he’ll follow us,” I say, pointing to the truck that’s parked across the lot.

  “You’re taking me now?” she asks with wide eyes.

  “Uh, yeah. Not letting your friends talk you out of coming back with me, and I sure as fuck ain’t leaving here without you. When I say that I’m protecting you, Clee, it m
eans I’m fuckin’ protecting you.”

  She trembles beneath my fingertips, her body visibly shaking, but I can’t control my anger. She isn’t fucking getting it. This shit, it’s not a goddamn game. The Cartel is not a fuckin’ joke, and the shit they would do to her, it would ruin her. My sweet wife would never recover.

  “Give me your keys. Camo will follow,” I inform her.

  Holding out my hand, I wait for her to slip the keys into my palm while I call Camo and let him know to stay on my tail. I’m not as drunk as I was a couple hours ago, so I feel confident enough to drive to wherever Cleo needs to go.

  I open the passenger side for her and watch as she hesitantly slides inside. I jog around to the driver’s side and start the engine, then she gives me directions on which pharmacy to pick up her friend.

  I’m still not quite sure about their dynamic, but because these guys have dicks, I don’t like it. I don’t give a fuck if she says they’re gay. They have cocks, and she’s been livin’ with them. That shit stops now.

  I pull the Jeep into the parking lot and watch as the door to the pharmacy opens. A tall man walks our way. He’s got brown hair, and he’s muscular—not the geeky looking nerd that I had anticipated. He eyes me through the windshield, and I watch his jaw harden as it clenches.

  Opening my door, I get out of the car, leaving Cleo inside, not bothering to say anything to her. I make my way toward the guy that looks like he could give me a good run for my money in a fight. I’d still win, but he’d give me a workout.

  “So, you found her,” he grunts.

  “Thought she was dead, the way you left her place.”

  “Good, that’s the way it was supposed to look,” he shrugs.

  “Should punch you for that. My wife. You made me believe my wife was fuckin’ kidnapped or dead,” I grind out.

  “The wife you haven’t given much of a shit about in over a decade? Forgive me if I don’t give a flying fuck how you felt,” he barks, delivering his blow.

  “I’m here now,” I grunt.

  “Why is that, Paxton?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.