The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet

by Faiman, Hayley

  “Fucking shattered into a million goddamn pieces,” he chuckles as he leans forward and softly presses his lips to mine. “Now, let me help you in this bath and I’ll get us something to eat while you soak.”

  “Yeah?” I ask as he lets me use his arms for stability to get inside of the warm water.

  “Probably just ordering pizza, sunshine, don’t get too excited.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I had pizza,” I sigh as the warm water envelops me.

  Sloane doesn’t say anything, and I’m too busy soaking in the heavenly tub to wonder why. After days in the hospital, using their shitty shower, and then being in so much pain, I honestly didn’t care if I was clean or not.

  This tub right here feels like heaven. I’m going to have to wash my hair in the morning, but right now, I don’t care how dirty it is. I’m home, Sloane’s here, and we’re both breathing. That is all I care about.

  * * *

  “You didn’t,” I whisper in feigned horror.

  “That pussy had it coming,” Sloane says as he takes another bite of pizza.

  We’re sitting in bed, eating pizza straight from the box, and talking. It’s like a dream come true. Sloane reaches over to me and threads his fingers with mine before he tosses his slice into the box.

  I finished a long time ago, but I’ve been having fun talking with him. I’d forgotten how funny Sloane was, and how much I enjoyed just conversing with him.

  He throws the box onto the floor and rests back against the headboard. Tugging me gently, so that I’m lying against him. The back of my head is on his chest and my arm is curled around him.

  “I still remember exactly what you were wearing the first time I saw you,” he whispers. “You had on this tiny little skirt with buttons down the front, with a little sweater that your stomach peaked out of just a little. Fuck me, it was sexy as shit. And knee socks. You were like every wet dream I’d ever had. Your hair was long and straight, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen a prettier girl in my entire life.”

  “Sloane,” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

  “I was such a fucking punk back then. Hell, I was a punk for twenty years. I wanted you, but I wanted everything else on two legs, too. You, the thought of another boy even looking at you sent me into a rage. My head was so fucked up, and I’d get blitzed, fuck around, feel guilty until the next time I got high. It was a vicious cycle. Only when I sobered up completely did I truly realize the damage I’d done to you, to us.”

  “I was really young. I chose to see what I wanted to see, and I chose to stay when I could have very well left. We’re both to blame for the way things happened, Sloane,” I whisper, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Don’t do that,” he warns. “Don’t take the blame off of me when it’s all me, sunshine. You did nothing but love me. When I fucked you over, you reacted. None of that is on you. All of that is on me.”

  “I hate that you were with other people. I hate it more than anything else. I hate it more than the fact that we didn’t have children. I just fucking hate it,” I cry. He holds me a little closer.

  “I wasn’t with anyone else when we were dating. I said that because I was being a dick. I’m sorry, Imogen. I wish I could go back in time. Fuck me, do I wish that I could. You’re going to have babies, Genny. I’m giving them to you, as many as your heart desires,” he whispers, pressing his lips against my hair.

  I fall asleep in his arms. My mind on babies and the past, on the missed memories, on what-could-have-beens, and what-should-have-beens.

  * * *

  I flutter my eye lids open, unsure of the time, and there he is. Graham. Staring right at my face. He sneers at me, and I let out a scream.

  I try to back away, but he reaches for me. Right before his hand connects with my skin, the bedside table light goes on, and he’s gone.

  “Genny?” Sloane’s husky voice calls out in confusion. I roll over to face him, trying to calm my breaths, trying to gain control over myself.

  “He was here,” I whisper.

  “Who, sunshine?” he asks in confusion, his hair mussed up from sleep.

  “Graham,” I rasp.

  Sloane’s tightness in his body relaxes and he shakes his head before he slides back down into the sheets and rolls to my side, wrapping his hand around my hip.

  “He couldn’t be here, baby. I killed him,” he admits truthfully. Sloane didn’t just get rid of him—he got rid of him.

  “You killed him?” I breathe.

  “What did you think I meant when I said I got rid of him? And that he’d never touch you again?” he asks as a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

  “I don’t know. Not that.”

  “Well, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. It was a flashback, and you knew it was a possibility,” he murmurs. “Do you think you can get some sleep? Or do you need my help on that?”

  “Help?” I ask curiously.

  He shrugs, “I could eat your pussy until you’re exhausted and you pass out.” It sends chills over my entire body, and my belly heats at the thought as I press my thighs together.

  “Mmmm,” he hums.

  Before I can even say another word, my nightie is shoved up, and my panties are pulled down.

  I let out a long moan as Sloane’s tongue slides over my entire center and then circles my clit.

  “Don’t move too much, baby. I don’t want to hurt your ribs,” he murmurs against my core.

  Sloane eats me. He’s gentle but purposeful, and it doesn’t take me long before I’m writhing beneath him and crying out his name as I tug on the strands of his blond hair.

  When he slips two fingers inside of me and begins to pump in and out of my core, I know that I’m done for. I can’t hold on a second longer, and I completely disintegrate beneath him as I come.

  His lips touch the inside of my thigh, but he crawls up the side of my body instead of my middle, and starts to gently run the pads of his fingertips up and down my skin, touching my breasts and around my nipples while I try and catch my breath.

  “Sloane,” I whisper.

  “Can you sleep now, sunshine?”

  “What about you?” I ask, knowing he must be hard and ready to go.

  “I’ll survive the night, baby,” he murmurs. “That was for you and you alone.”

  I sigh as he presses his lips to the side of my head and curls his body around mine. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep. Less than five minutes.

  I wonder if Sloane will put me to sleep like this every night from now on.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SOAR

  “Kirill said everything was good,” MadDog states from his position at the front of the long table.

  Church. Not the place I want to be right now. I’d much rather be buried inside of my wife’s sweet cunt. However, it’s mandatory, and I’m here.

  Seeing as I missed so many of them when I was locked up, I need as much catch up as I can get, anyway. It’s just too bad Genny is refusing to leave the house so she won’t be waiting for me when it’s over.

  “Good,” I lift my chin.

  “There are some issues they’re havin’ in New York—their business, not ours. However, he wants some trusted brothers on standby if they’re needed. Figured I can count on my guys here and some of Fury’s men in Idaho for sure to fly on over,” he states. Every man in the room nods.

  The Russian’s have had our back on more than one occasion, so it’s a fair trade. The deal has been working smoothly for a few years now. Kirill seems solid enough, so if he needs help, I’ll fully volunteer my services.

  “Soar can’t leave state lines, so we can’t have him on the rotation for at least two years traveling to Denver. But he’s our man to load at the docks. We’re using the Humboldt docks permanently now. I want Soar, Torch, Mammoth and Camo handling the dock work between the four of them for a while. All their Old Ladies are knocked up, and Soar’s stuck here,” he announces. “The rest of the men I’ll be m
aking a new schedule for today, and I’ll post it on my office window.”

  “Any other business?” he asks, looking around.

  “Any news on the Aryans?” Texas asks.

  “Nothin’ new to report, really. Seems like we’ve hit a dead end. We’re lucky to have found the women and children that we did. Unless problems arise, I say we let those fuckers stay hidden in their bunkers. I have a feeling that without Drifter feeding them information anymore, their well will dry up completely.”

  I sit up before I speak, “What about those highway patrol cops that were up in my shit?”

  MadDog shakes his head. “We got nothin’ on that, brother. Hopefully with Graham being put down that’ll be the end of it.” He lifts his chin before he turns to the rest of the group. “With nothin’ else, what do you all think about allowing the prospect, Joel, to patch-in? Ready to vote?” MadDog questions.

  We all grunt, and then we each state our verdict. I don’t know the guy well, but I’m not allowed to be a neutral party. I am just like every man in this room, a complete patched member.

  Nobody votes no, so it’s easy for me to cast a positive vote as well. MadDog throws down his gavel and adjourns the meeting, but before we leave the room, he sends Grease out to get the punk ass little fuck.

  Once Joel is brought in, MadDog tells him his fate, and I swear I see the kid tear up before he gives us the brightest, widest smile I’ve ever seen.

  “You’re blinding me with those pearly whites,” I jokingly shout.

  “Blinder. That’s fuckin’ it,” MadDog yells.

  “My dad’s a dentist. I get free zoom whitening,” he shrugs with a chuckle.

  “Well, Blinder, better keep at it. You have a road name now to uphold,” I say as I walk past him and clap him on the shoulder.

  “Patch-in party tomorrow night,” MadDog yells as the other men congratulate Blinder and follow behind me out of the room.

  I walk up to the bar and lean my forearms against it as I signal to the prospect tending that I need a drink. He hands me a beer, and I lift my chin in thanks. I’m only one pull in when I feel a set of tits press against my forearm.

  I look down at my arm and then into the eyes of the girl I fucked when I first got out of prison. The little bitch that made Imogen cry in the grocery store.

  “Destini,” she says sweetly.

  “Help you?” I ask.

  “Wondered if you were ready for another round? I know your woman’s been out of commission, so I thought I’d offer up my services,” she says, pouting her lips to give me a bit of a show.

  I don’t have to even think to know my answer. Nothing about her, not even her puffy lips, are worth hurting my wife again. I’ve done that shit enough.

  Making her promises to stay sober, stay faithful, and be the man she needs me to be is my main focus. I’ve had enough strange to last me a lifetime.

  In the end, it didn’t make me feel half as good as seeing my wife smile up at me, love and trust shining in her eyes.

  “Got an Old Lady, out of commission or not, doesn’t matter,” I shrug.

  For the first time ever, I truly feel that way deep in my bones. I’ve never felt it before. I’ve said it, and maybe I’ve meant it, but felt it? Fuck no, not like I do right now.

  “I’m not like the others. I can keep quiet, Soar. I know you like to play a little. I still remember how you felt inside of me. Nobody would have to know,” she whispers.

  I laugh. It’s a full-on belly laugh, and I should feel super shitty for it because this girl is young. She’s young and fucking dumb. I’ve already told her no before, and she’s offering herself up for another form of rejection. Christ, how stupid can you be.

  “I highly doubt you remember what my dick felt like, babe. You’ve had so much cock in your snatch since then, I don’t see how you could,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I know without a doubt I could fuck you and my wife wouldn’t find out. That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t want to fuck you. You’re young and you have a hot little body, but soon enough, you’ll be gone and nobody here will care. Not me, not anyone. You keep hounding me after I’ve told you no repeatedly, you’ll be out on your ass soon.”

  I turn away, abandoning my beer and walk toward the door. I don’t need to fuck whores, I don’t need to party it up, not without Imogen.

  And maybe in a few months both of us will feel okay with me being down here without her; but right now, to me, it doesn’t feel right.

  I need some more time, some more time with her, some more time with my sobriety, and some more time being free.

  “You okay, brother?” Torch asks as soon as I step outside.

  “Turned down an offer from Destini,” I state, shoving my hands in my pocket.

  “Hard to do?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I know it wasn’t hard. In fact, it was easy—too fucking easy. And that shit makes me feel shitter than anything else. Turning her down was so goddamn easy that I should have been doing it this whole fucking time.

  Torch interrupts me mid-thought, “Lot’s goin’ on in that head of yours, I’m sure. It’s different, being free and being sober all at the same time, plus dealing with feelings and the consequences of your actions when you were fucked in the head. It’s a fuck’ve a lot to deal with. Add to that what Imogen just went through,” he says, not looking at me, but instead up at the stars that fill the sky.

  “No fucking shit,” I say, letting out a puff of air from my lungs.

  “You’re handling everything really well. Really fuckin’ well. Got to be honest, we’re all kind of watching and waiting for your breakdown,” he states. I shake my head once.

  “Me too,” I admit.

  “Really fuckin’ proud of you, Soar. I didn’t know you well before you went in, but I gotta say you’re a standup brother, a good man, and I’m proud we’re on the same team.”

  “Thanks. I just, fuck,” I say, lifting my hand to rub at the back of my neck. “I’m too old for this shit. Do you know how much I missed by being a fucking douchebag for so long?” I ask angrily.

  “Yeah, brother. I do,” Torch states. I cut my eyes over to him.

  He knows because he stayed away from his wife, suffering from PTSD for years, abandoning her, thinking it was better for her that he stayed gone. Maybe at the time it was. Maybe I should have done the same thing. A more selfless man, like him, probably would.

  I’m selfish, though—born and fucking raised to be a selfish fucking prick. I kept Imogen just at arm’s length, continuing to hurt her repeatedly over the years. Hurting her so fucking badly and being too goddamn high and too fucking stubborn to change—for her, for me, or for us.

  “Imogen is thirty-five. She wants a baby, and I never wanted them. She wants a whole fucking house full, but I never gave that to her. How do I make up for that?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.

  “Cleo’s thirty-five and she’s about to have a baby,” Torch states. “Genny wants a kid, you give that to her. Now. Not later, but now. Make the second part of her life worth the pain you put her through for the first half,” he says.

  “I swore I would,” I admit.

  “Then come through.”

  I think about his words. Then I admit the truth, something I hate to say aloud. I say it anyway. “I’m scared I’ll relapse. I’m scared I’ll get blitzed and fuck whores, and she’ll be at home with my kid and I’ll go right back to that routine. Except I’ll have ruined a kid’s life—I’ll have turned into my goddamn father.”

  “Don’t let that happen,” he shrugs as he takes a step away from me and turns to go inside. As though it’s that fucking simple.

  “How?”

  “Be fucking better, Soar. Be better for her, be better for your kid; but most importantly, be better for you.”

  Torch walks back inside, and I let out an exhale before I start to walk toward my bike. Be better for Imogen, for our kids, and for me. I don’t know if I can hack this shit, if I can really be better
. I want to try.

  Just as I straddle my bike, my phone rings from my pocket and I pull it out to answer it. Kip’s name flashes on the screen, and I grin. Be better for Kippy, too, I think right before I click accept.

  IMOGEN

  Turning off the television, I decide to turn on my eReader to see if there’s a book I haven’t read yet. I need something to keep me company, and to keep my mind off of exactly where Sloane is tonight.

  He’s down at the club for Church.

  He asked me to go with him, a first, really, and I probably should have just taken him up on his offer; but I’m not ready for anyone down there to see me, yet—especially not the whores.

  The swelling in my face has gone down quite a bit, but it’s not gone. It’s also a million different shades of blue and purple mixed with brown and yellow. In other words, it’s a hot fucking mess.

  No way in hell am I going to let those skinny bitch whores see me like this. Especially that one that came up to me in the grocery store. Next time I see that little bitch, I’m going to look like a ten, not a puffy disaster.

  “Sunshine,” a voice calls out. My spine straightens in surprise. Glancing down at my clock, I notice it’s not even midnight yet. “Hey, you’re up.”

  “I am,” I say with a shaky smile.

  “You all right, baby?” Sloane asks as he shrugs his cut off before he places it on the bench at the foot of our bed.

  “I didn’t expect you home so soon,” I state. Honestly, I didn’t expect him home at all.

  He grins, shaking his head. “Didn’t feel much like partying. I was missing my woman.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, cocking my head to the side in wonder.

  Sloane Soar McKinley Huntington III never misses a party, not unless there’s a damn good reason.

  “Not the same anymore. I’m sober and,” he pauses as he takes his shirt off before shoving his jeans down his legs.

  I watch as he toes out of his boots and then he’s on the bed, removing his socks before he pulls his jeans the rest of the way off. He crawls up next to me.