by Naomi West
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
BABY BLUES: Satan Seed MC copyright 2017 by Naomi West. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
BABY BLUES: Satan Seed MC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
BABY WITH THE SAVAGE: The Motor Saints MC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
BABY WITH THE BEAST: Seven Sinners MC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WILD CHILD: The Wylde Ones MC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Books by Naomi West
BABY WITH THE SAVAGE: The Motor Saints MC
BABY WITH THE BEAST: Seven Sinners MC
WILD CHILD: The Wylde Ones MC
DIESEL DADDY: Skull Riders MC
THE DEVIL’S BABY: The Smoking Vipers MC
PAY FOR HER: The Warhawks MC
AXEL’S LITTLE ANGEL: The Rippers MC
PISTOL’S BABY: The Brethren MC
KNOCKED UP BY THE BIKER: The Ancestors MC
CRAVE: Santora Mafia
TRADED: A Dark Mafia Romance
BAD BOY’S TOUCH: A Dark Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Moretti Family Mafia)
BAD BOY’S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance
CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)
OWNED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blood Warriors MC)
Mailing List
BABY BLUES: Satan Seed MC
By Naomi West
I’VE GOT THE PERFECT CURE FOR HER BABY BLUES.
Putting my baby inside her will be heavenly.
But keeping them both alive will be hell on earth.
I’ll put my life on the line to keep my woman and our child safe from harm.
The only question is…
Will that be enough?
Chapter One
Blue
Blue Jasper slowly pulled her tattoo instruments from the sterilizer, taking several deep breaths before she turned back to her client. “Take a look in the mirror. Make sure everything is the way you want it.”
Rat took the hand mirror from her and examined his upper arm, then got up out of the tattoo chair to check it out in the full-length mirror on the wall. His piggy eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the stencil, his mouth twitching amongst his scraggly facial hair. He had asked her for a flaming skull, and she had dutifully drawn it in marker amidst his other tattoos of spiderwebs and half-naked women. He flexed his muscles in the mirror and grinned with crooked teeth. “You should count yourself lucky. It’s not just any tattoo artist that I trust with this sort of thing.”
She nodded but said nothing. If she’d had it her way, she never would have tattooed him at all. But if there was one thing she had learned in this business, it was that she couldn’t pick and choose her art or the canvases she put it on. There were always young girls who wanted silly tramp stamps and guys who really thought they needed their girlfriend’s names on their chests. The only good thing about those clients was that they almost always came back to have their tattoos covered, and that just meant more money for her. It had been a great start to her tattoo career, if not the most creative one.
Blue had earned a name for herself, though, and she was far past drawing little butterflies and tiny names. She was often commissioned for large, custom pieces that folks couldn’t get elsewhere, and her calendar at Spencer’s Shop was booked solid for at least six months. She never had to look for work, and that at least was something she could be grateful for. It was more than she had thought would happen for her working at an off-the-path tattoo shop that didn’t attract celebrity clients or the wealthy. There would be no television shows made about Spencer’s Shop, but it was clean and it had a steady clientele. Blue hadn’t gone hungry in over two years.
Unfortunately, she was at the whim of guys like Rat, who had plenty of money to toss around and plenty of time to sit in the chair. Blue had heard he was part of a biker gang, something that didn’t sit well with her, and that idea was confirmed by the large men in leather vests who insisted on hanging out while she did her work. They lounged in the chairs in the corner of her booth, getting up and going outside at regular intervals to smoke, and reeking of the stuff when they returned.
Rat sat back down in the chair and pointed a thick finger at his buddies. “Which one of you is gonna be next? I can’t be the only one who’s getting inked tonight!”
A slim man with fiery red hair that he kept slicked back against his skull shrugged his shoulders. His vest accentuated his skinny shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to be. You’ve got the best artist in town working on you, and the
other guy here says he has appointments. I told him we’d pay double, but I guess nobody around here wants our hard-earned money.” He rolled his eyes toward the other side of the shop.
“Why would you want him to work on you anyway, Flame? I’d rather have a sexy little mama like that bending over me.” This man, a short and burly sort with a buzzed scalp, eyed Blue’s ample chest and waggled his eyebrows. He took a slug from a beer bottle and continued to leer.
She did her best to ignore him. Blue felt that tattoos were a personal thing. Whatever you got inked on your body should mean something to you or represent something you’d gone through in your life. But people these days just wanted to get them because they thought tattoos were cool, and they liked to make a spectator sport out of it. What could a flaming skull mean to Rat, anyway?
With her ink caps ready to go and Rat’s skin sterilized, she reached forward with gloved hands and began running her first line.
“Stubble’s right,” Rat agreed, his eye twitching slightly as the needle vibrated in and out of his skin. “This chick is worth all the money I pay her. Just like any other woman, am I right? They’re only good for something if you’re paying them.” He roared with laughter, slapping his thigh with his free hand.
Blue immediately pulled back, wiping the extra ink from his skin and relieved to see that he hadn’t messed up her work. “Please sit still.” She didn’t want to know about the kind of women Rat paid, nor what he paid them to do. She couldn’t imagine having to be intimate with a man like that. He smelled bad enough just being in the same room with him, much less in bed with him. Blue just wanted to get it over with and move on.
“Yeah, baby. I’ll do whatever you say,” Rat laughed. The scent of alcohol was thick on his breath. “Hey, I think I have some ideas for my next tat. You can fit me in next week, right? I’ve got cash burning in my pocket, and I want to spend it all on you.”
She pressed her lips together and focused on her job, finishing the line along the top of the skull and dipping the needle back in the ink cup. His comment was supposed to be flattering, but it wasn’t. She knew there would be no way she could get him in again that soon, even if she wanted to. There was a line out the door of people waiting on her work, and it wasn’t fair she had to waste any of that time on scum like this guy. Other customers wanted good work, the kind that could get her into magazines. A dumb flaming skull on a biker was just more of the flash crap that anybody could churn out.
“I’ll have to check my schedule. What do you want?” At least if they talked about tattoos, they weren’t talking about her body.
“I think it’s about time I finish my other sleeve. What I have there is good, but it needs something more, something to really finish it off and make people look at it. I was thinking I’d get a tat of you, naked, riding a big cock. You’d be the perfect person to put it on me. What do you think?”
“I think you need to find a different artist,” she replied calmly, reminding herself once again that she just had to get through this session and then it would be time to go home. Spencer’s Shop stayed open later than most of the other tattoo shops around did anymore, and it was mostly because of men like Rat that the other places had started keeping earlier hours. Nobody wanted to deal with the bikers. Let people take off work if they wanted tattoos so badly.
“Okay, then just act it out for me,” Rat breathed. “I’ve got a big cock right here for you to ride. I’ll even pay you the same rate.”
Her face burned as she tried to come up with the right retort. She couldn’t let him get away with such a remark; she didn’t get paid enough for that. But Blue knew he was watching her. He wanted to get a rise out of her, to make her angry. It probably amused him.
She was just about to tell him he could get a tattoo of himself sucking a cock when the curtain on her booth flung to the side and Spencer Hagen walked in. The owner of the shop was a tall man with a slim frame, the kind of body that could really only belong to an artist because he wasn’t strong enough for anything else. He’d still had a little bit of free skin left when Blue had first met him, but he had colored in the last few areas in that time. He tried to look tough as he assessed the drinking men in the corner, folding his arms and looking down his nose. “You know, there’s not supposed to be any alcohol in here.”
Flame and the shorter man with the eyebrows looked at each other. “Yeah, what do you care?” Flame deliberately took another long drink of beer. “We’re paying customers, aren’t we?”
“Technically, it’s your friend over there under the needle who’s paying, and I’m just trying to follow policy. It’s the state’s law, not mine.” That wasn’t completely true. The state law did say nobody was allowed to have alcohol or be drunk while they were getting tattooed, but there were plenty of shops that didn’t pay attention to that little clause. Blue could have thrown Rat out for it, but he hadn’t started drinking until he had already signed his paperwork and sat down in the chair. Besides, he was a little too scary to try to throw out.
“I guess we can just tell everyone we know not to come back here,” Rat offered, shifting his focus from Blue and glaring at Spencer. “I know a lot of people in this town, and I could have this shop shut down in an instant.”
“I’m just saying to keep it polite,” Spencer amended, backing down. With his short brown hair and soft eyes, Spencer was far from intimidating. “You want to keep your favorite artist employed, don’t you?” He looked at Blue out of the corner of his eye.
She knew what that look meant. He was trying to figure out if she was all right. This wasn’t the most ideal situation, but there was little they could do about it unless they wanted to call the police. That wasn’t happening, not if they could avoid it. Having sirens outside your establishment was a quick way to drive away all your customers. Blue gave a subtle nod and went back to work, the sound of her machine filling the room.
“You free now, bro?” Flame asked. “I need some ink, bad.”
“No,” Spencer replied curtly. “I just came in here for some supplies.” He yanked open a cabinet, pulled out a roll of paper towels, and left, flicking the curtain shut behind him.
Though Blue suspected he had really only come in her booth because of the noise, his excuse hadn’t been a bad one. Spencer had given her the larger space in the shop as soon as it had become evident that she was making so much money for him. Spencer was a good artist, too, but everybody wanted their work done by Blue. As a result, her area of the shop had the most floor space, more storage cabinets, and easier access to the sterilizing equipment.
“Oh, I get it,” Rat said after a minute. “You’re fucking him.”
“Excuse me?” Blue traced the curve of the eye sockets on the skull, but she didn’t stop. Every second that she worked, she was one second closer to getting rid of this douche.
“That dude that was just in here, you’re fucking him,” Rat repeated. “That’s why the two of you are always here together, and he doesn’t want me to proposition you. That’s pretty cute, but you can tell your boyfriend that he’s not going to stop me. I can flirt with whoever I want to, especially if I’m paying her for her time.”
As much as she wanted to correct Rat and remind him that she wasn’t a prostitute, Blue knew there was little point. He was an asshole, and if he got his jollies from the thought of paying a woman hourly then there was little she could do to change his mind. But she most certainly wasn’t fucking Spencer. “No, I’m not.”
“But I bet he wants to fuck you, doesn’t he? I can see it in his eyes. He thinks you’re all cute, with your tattoos and your blue hair and that little nose piercing. I can’t say I blame him. If I were your boss, I’d have you bent over this chair every night. I bet he can’t wait to get a chance at that ass.” His men whooped and hollered while Rat made lewd gestures with his free hand.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Blue had heard this type of talk from customers. They just usually weren’t quite so direct about it. This
was part of being a woman in this industry, but that didn’t make it right. It made her needle want to stray and write something nasty on his arm, but she couldn’t risk her reputation. Tattooing was the only thing she was good at, and she needed to keep this job going. “I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t my boss, then. I’d have to break your dick off and slap you with it.”
“Oh, she’s a feisty one!” Rat shouted, smacking the arm of the chair and hooting at his friends. “I like that in a woman. What other dirty things would you like to do to me, baby?” His peanut gallery slapped their legs and shouted, their beer bottles clanking.
Blue’s teeth ground together. It didn’t matter what she said; Rat would find a way to turn it around and make it work for him. Even complete silence would probably make him happy, because he would still know he was getting to her. She couldn’t win against him. He was a typical biker, and they could all fall off the face of the planet for all she cared.
The curtain swung aside once again, the metal rings making a quick zing against the rod. Spencer’s dark eyes were fiery as he pointed toward the door. “All right, that’s enough. The two of you get out.”
“Hey, what did we do?” Stubble demanded. He held out his pudgy tattooed arms in innocence. “We’re just here to support our friend.”
“Yeah, and you’re drinking on the premises and harassing my artist. In fact, all three of you can get out right now.” He gestured toward Rat, beckoning him to come up out of the chair.
“Don’t you dare stop what you’re doing,” Rat growled at Blue.
She was caught between listening to her boss and obeying this massive biker, but in the end intimidation won. Blue kept at her work, focusing on the quick pulse of the tattoo machine and running good, clean lines. Tattooing was the one thing that had interested her most when she had found herself alone in the world and trying to find a way to make a living. She had always loved to draw, and she’d quickly discovered that it wasn’t quite the same thing to draw on live skin. People moved a lot more than sketchpads or canvases did, and no one person had the same skin as the next. But that was what made it all the more interesting for her. It was more of a challenge than just cranking out a drawing.