Devil's Deal

by Brook Wilder

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, 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.

  Devil’s Deal copyright @ 2018 by Brook Wilder and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEVIL’S DEAL

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

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  DEVIL’S DEAL

  Chapter 1

  “Hey now, fellas. Just calm down.”

  Drew “Tex” Parker held up his hands in a gesture of peace, a cocky sardonic grin tipping up one corner up his mouth as he stared down the three bikers glaring in his direction.

  “No need to get violent.”

  “I think there very well fucking is need.”

  Tex threw a sidelong glance at the man cracking his knuckles next to him. Oh, right! The bikers weren’t glaring so much at him as at the hot-tempered asshole that, for whatever reason, Tex called his friend.

  “Shut the fuck up, Porky,” Tex hissed under his breath.

  Most people knew Patrick Carrol as Porky. Partly this was because of his size; he was inches taller than Tex’s own not insubstantial six-foot-two and at least twice as wide. But it wasn’t just that the man was fat, as broad as a brick shit house; it was as much about brains. The man was the most loyal friend Tex had ever had, and he’d known Porky since they’d been kids. But, Jesus Christ! If they could just have gone one night without the giant trying to pick a fight, Tex would have been eternally grateful.

  Porky had a temper to match his size and he wasn’t shy about using it. In fact, as far as Tex was concerned, the man was way too eager to get the shit beat out of him; although, to be fair, he won more often not. The fights that Tex couldn’t talk their way out of, anyway.

  Tex glanced at the three men again, their brows lowered in anger as they inched towards them. Tex and Porky were sitting at the table furthest from the door, pushed into the corner to clear the bar’s small dance floor. The place was packed, even for a Friday night. He guessed the men had been drinking for several hours.

  “This isn’t about you, pretty boy,” the one in the middle sneered, the slight alcohol-induced slur to his words confirming Tex’s suspicions.

  He almost pitied them. They had no idea what kind of hurt was in store for them when they really riled Porky up.

  “I think it is,” Tex said slowly.

  “No, he’s right, Tex,” Porky said, shooting a condescending look at the men. “These assholes aren’t worth your time. They’re barely even worth mine.”

  “You better shut your mouth,” the middle one spoke again, stepping forward far enough to jab a finger in Porky’s direction.

  “Or what?” Porky snorted in derision, the sound making the rival bikers flush with anger. “You think your puny ass is going to make me?”

  Tex sent one more pleading look in Porky’s direction before training his gaze back on the bikers. From the identical patches sewn into the back of their leathers, he could see they were all members of the Snake Hog crew.

  He and Porky were members of the Devil’s Martyrs. Along with the Grim Riders, the Martyrs and the Hogs were the rival crews in the area. The three gangs trafficked all the drugs in the area.

  These three Snake Hogs were obviously low level peons, hardly worth their time, but Porky had a talent for getting into irritating fist fights with… well, with just about anyone, to be honest.

  Tex turned to Porky with a frustrated glance.

  “Aren’t there better things we could be doing? Like getting drunk and scoping out the local talent.”

  He rolled his eyes at the table next to them, where two prime catches were sitting. One of the women gave him a long look up and down, and Tex’s body tightened at the invitation in her eyes.

  Porky just sent him a shit-eating grin.

  “Nope!”

  The word was barely out of his mouth before the man rose to his feet. Sitting, the Snake Hog members hadn’t been able to see just how formidable an opponent Porky really was. Their eyes widened almost comically as they took in Porky’s height and the thick width of his biceps as he flexed. The man could only wear leather vests with their crew’s insignia on the back; he’d busted the sleeves of the last jacket he’d had.

  “The best thing for me to do right now,” Porky said slowly, his grin turning downright menacing, “is to show these assholes exactly who they tried to mess with.”

  “Technically, you are the one messing with them,” Tex tried to reason, but his best friend just shrugged.

  “Semantics.”

  Tex snorted. Just like Porky to start a fight and pretend it was the other guy. He really didn’t care whose fault it was, as long as he got to throw some punches. Which was fine with Tex, except that he usually got dragged into the brawl and, tonight, he didn’t really feel like getting hit or bruising his knuckles. And he sure as hell didn’t want to spend his Friday night in a hospital. Or, worse, in a jail cell. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten locked up because of Porky. The man attracted trouble. Good thing for him that Tex’s number one talent was getting them out of it.

  “Come on, guys,” Tex spread his arms in a peaceable gesture. “Why don’t you just go back to your table and have a beer on me. Then we can all get on with enjoying our night at this fine establishment.”

  Porky rolled his eyes at his surroundings and let out a guffaw at that last statement. The bar was a dive. Some hole-in-the-wall in North Texas that they’d stumbled into because it was in neutral territory. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

  There were some bars and clubs that were members only. The Grim Riders had the Reaper, a rough country bar just a few miles south. The Snake Hogs had the Cutout, but it was barely more than a warehouse with a few old tables in it, and anyone who went there was more likely to find more fistfights than alcohol.

  The Hole was the Devil’s Martyrs’ home bar, but Tex had wanted a change from crew drama. There was still some sort of tension between Preston Osborne, the youngest Sergeant-in-arms that the Devil’s Martyrs had ever had, and Arthur “Capone” Johnson, the MC’s president. Capone was bat-shit crazy, but he’d brought in so much dough and action for the Devil’s Martyrs that everyone was more than willing to put up with it.

  Crazy Eights, the bar they were at right now, was even worse than the Snake Hogs’ normal hideout. No one would ever call it fine let alone an establishment.

  Still, Tex tried to shoot them a conciliatory grin.

  “What do you say? Free beer ain’t too bad.”

  The Snake Hog members seemed to be mulling over Tex’s suggestion, but then the middle one was glaring again.

  “Not until this asshole apologizes,” the biker snarled, nodding towards Porky.

  Porky let out a bored
yawn, covering his mouth dramatically.

  Tex rolled his eyes. It was going to take more of his wit than he thought to get out of this fight.

  “Just fucking say it, Porky. I want to finish my beer in peace,” Tex implored.

  But Porky just grinned again and Tex groaned out loud.

  “Nope. I meant every word of what I said. And I’m not going to apologize for just stating facts.”

  “And what facts are those exactly?”

  Tex braced himself for Porky’s answer. Knowing the man, he could say any number of things just to piss the other bikers off.

  “I just told them the truth. That they had an extremely unpleasant aroma. And requested that they please remove themselves from the premises so I could imbibe my alcoholic beverage without soiling myself. And I might have added something about their mothers. Or maybe their grandmothers. I don’t quite remember.”

  “Really? That’s what you said?” Tex said, barking out a disbelieving laugh.

  Porky shot him a mischievous grin.

  “Fuck, no! I told them their ugly Snake Hog asses smelled like shit and I couldn’t drink my beer without wanting to vomit, so could they get the fuck out. I’m pretty sure I did say please. Almost positive.”

  Tex barely held back another laugh as he turned back to the angry Snake Hogs.

  “See, he said please. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  “That prick said my mother was a… was a… vacuum,” the one on the right shot out, speaking for the first time, but he flushed a bright red as he heard his own words and, embarrassed, fell to grumbling.

  Tex didn’t even bother holding back the belly laugh that burst from his throat as he turned back to Porky.

  “What the fuck? A vacuum?”

  Porky looked right back, completely unabashed.

  “She’s really good at sucking,” he explained.

  “Jesus, man!” Tex managed through the humor that shook him. “That’s so bad.”

  “I’m going to kick his ass!”

  The biker who’d just spoken, the one whose mother had been so insulted, leapt forward, drawing back his fist as his expression turned even darker.

  “Bring it on, Snake Hog,” Porky said with relish, stepping around the table, already spoiling for a fight.

  For a moment, Tex sat back, crossing his arms behind his head and thinking that maybe he would just let the fight play out, sit back and enjoy the show. But then he caught sight of the way the bigger Snake Hog member was eyeing him and knew there was no way they were going to let him sit this one out.

  “Come on, Tex. Get your ass up here.”

  Porky wasn’t going to let him sit it out either, apparently.

  Tex guessed that only left him one option, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get into a brawl with these assholes.

  Slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Tex got to his feet.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you Porky?”

  Porky didn’t even look in Tex’s direction.

  “Nope,” he answered.

  Tex grit his teeth. He was getting real tired of hearing that.

  “Okay. Here’s the deal. You fight by the bikers’ code.”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “You each get to throw one punch. First one, and then the other…”

  “But, Tex! Come on man, that’s not fair. At least let me hit ’em a couple of times.”

  “One punch,” Tex said, talking over Porky. He shot the other man a conspiratorial grin. “And you have to take turns. Porky gets to go first, since you’re the ones who challenged him.”

  “Yes, sir!” the man on the left crowed gleefully, pummeling one closed fist into his palm as he took a menacing step towards the waiting bikers.

  The one that had spoken up about his mother stammered out a string of words.

  “Wait a minute – uh – now. Let’s just hold on here. Maybe Rooster should go first.”

  He pushed the middle man, Rooster, towards Porky. But Rooster dragged the other men with him. They were all wrestling with each other, fighting over who would go first, while Tex shared a look with his friend.

  “They’re going to be at this all night,” Tex said, as the three bikers continued to bicker amongst themselves over who was going to go up against Porky first.

  The broad-shouldered man let out a disappointed sigh.

  “You’re right!”

  “Come on; let’s get out here before they realize I just made all that shit up.”

  “Damn it, Tex. I didn’t even get to hit one of ’em.”

  “Let’s go, big guy,” Tex said, patting him on the shoulder consolingly as he guided his friend towards the exit.

  As far as he was concerned, he was grateful as hell that his quick wit had gotten them out of yet another scrape.

  Tex let out a rough chuckle to himself as he and Porky sauntered out of the club, the three morons still staring after them as if they couldn’t understand what had happened.

  “You really have to knock that shit off, Porky,” Tex said, walking to his bike and throwing one leg over the beautiful machine.

  She was painted a dark cherry red with a black rose on one side and a skull on the other. He liked to think she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, and sure as hell the most loyal. More loyal than any other broad in his life.

  “You’re the one who never lets me have any fun.”

  “Fun!” Tex scoffed. “No, man. Beating the shit out of some low-level Snake Hogs isn’t my idea of a good Friday night. Let’s head back to Devil’s Martyr territory. And no more fist fights.”

  Porky shook his head and started to say something, but the man’s words were drowned out in the roar of the engine as Tex gunned the throttle and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Tex was still laughing to himself when the gas light started flashing at him and he let out a curse.

  With a quick gesture towards the gas station on the next corner, Tex pulled in to fill up. He was just topping off the gas tank as Porky pulled in and parked next to him with a self-righteous expression on his face.

  “Serves you right. You didn’t even hear my suggestion.”

  Porky turned off the ignition and headed into the gas station with Tex following behind.

  The cashier behind the counter gave them both a nervous look as they entered, but Tex just brushed it off. Between his leather jacket, fearsome countenance and the tattoos, he was used to the looks

  “What suggestion?”

  “No, nuh-uh. I’m not going to tell you. You don’t deserve to hear it.”

  Porky wandered down the junk food aisle, but Tex had stopped in front of a display of fake roses. He knew it was cheesy as hell, but he’d gotten one for his ex every place he went.

  “You still thinking about Kayla?”

  Tex hadn’t realized until he spoke that his friend had walked up to stand beside him, which was quite a feat considering his size. Porky wasn’t exactly known for being sneaky.

  “It’s not like I miss her,” Tex started trying to explain. “We’d just been together for so long that it had become second nature. Like breathing.”

  “Or taking a shit.”

  “Real romantic, Porky. Thanks for that.”

  “Hey man, you’re the one who brought her up.”

  Tex shoved Porky in the shoulder, hard.

  “No, I didn’t, asshole. You did.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Porky just shrugged nonchalantly and all Tex could do was shake his head.

  “I don’t why you’re still all caught up on Kayla anyway,” Porky took up. “All y’all ever did was bitch and fight with each other, when you weren’t screwing each other sideways.”

  “We just didn’t work anymore,” Tex finally said with a sigh.

  It was the simple truth. He and Kayla had been together for years, but somewhere in the middle of it all they’d lost that spark. They’d stayed together because it had become
easy and convenient. To tell the truth, he’d been relieved when she’d told him she was leaving. That had been eight months ago. And he hadn’t exactly been sitting around idle since then.

  The small Texas town didn’t have much going for it, especially further out in the MC’s area, but it did have more than its fair share of willing women to warm his bed. If it wasn’t for Porky and having to leave the bar, one could have been warming his bed right now.

  Quickly, they checked out, paying for the gas and a few snacks for the road.

  “Well?” Porky finally said, giving Tex an impatient look.