Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC

by Britten Thorne

  "What did you do?" Senna asked, swallowing.

  Colin cocked his head. "You've been hanging around these gang members too long already. What did you think I was going to do, break her arm?" Senna shrugged. "I bought her out."

  Senna blinked. "What?"

  "She's already in the air, on the way back to New York to sign the papers."

  "I thought you wanted our inheritances. Whatever Glenn left us in his will."

  "No one will ever see a dime of that," he said, shaking his head, "He left you his shares of his company as well. To put it bluntly, I want them."

  She shook her head. "And the threats?" They were the whole reason she'd fled. "Return what your father stole." "Give the money back or pay another way." "Give the money back or your sister will pay." That last one was the reason she'd finally left when she did.

  "I'm not the only one who wants it. You're of no interest to anyone once you sell."

  "Why wasn't I told any of this? Our lawyers..."

  "Paid off by multiple parties in a race to get to you first." He stood and leaned over her, his arms trapping her there as he gripped the edge of the bar behind her. "You're in over your head here, Miss Moore. Running was the right thing to do, but now that I've caught up, it's time to stop. I'm just the first. The real thugs will be next. Some will be sent by my boss, but more will be sent by other interested parties. You’re going to pay one way or another. You and your sister. Understand?"

  "If I make a deal with you," she said, refusing to react, "how do I know they'll leave me alone?" She didn’t like the way that he was crowding her but he wasn’t nearly as physically intimidating as Gunner had been.

  "You don't," he said, "But you'll have the money and the means for a proper escape."

  It would be worth considering if she could trust him, if she could make herself believe a single word that escaped his lips. She’d happily sign away her shares of the company - she never wanted them to begin with. She wanted to build something of her own. If she could negotiate enough to start over - change her name, move far away, transfer her school credits or simply start again - she’d be more than thrilled. She would jump at the chance.

  But these people were ruthless. They were dishonest and half of them likely sociopaths - she’d learned that much based on what her father said, based on spending any time at all with them at the few functions he’d allowed her and Aster to attend.

  Liars all, and this Colin is just another lackey.

  “I need proof that you’re not selling me some bullshit,” she said.

  He shrugged. “All the proof’s back home.”

  “I don’t believe you.” And I wish you’d step the hell back.

  He slammed his fists on the bar to either side of her and scowled. “Did you not hear me?” he hissed. “You’re in way over your head. You don’t want the next wave of shit that follows me to catch up to you. Go home, sign the goddamn papers, and disappear into Canada for all I give a shit.”

  All her instincts screamed, Don’t believe him. Do not get onto a plane with this man. Do not even get into a car with this man. Escape. Escape! “Please back off and let me think for a minute.”

  “No. I’ve already got a plane booked and there’s a car waiting outside. You’re coming with me.”

  Gunner woke mid-afternoon in his office with no memory of getting there. He was wearing his cut but no shirt and his jeans were wide open.

  The place was a mess, but it has been a mess to begin with so it was hard to tell what sort of damage has been done the night before. The chair was gone. One of the strippers was asleep on the desk, curled up with one arm dangling to the floor, snoring as loud as any man. He sat up with a groan and fixed his pants. Glasses of water lined the wall behind him in varying states of emptiness. Explains why this hangover isn't incapacitating, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was bad, but he'd had worse.

  "Hey," he grunted, slapping lightly at the girl's hand, sending it swinging back and forth. He couldn't remember her name. World's biggest asshole right here.

  "Mmm, Gunner," she said, smiling but keeping her eyes closed. "Why don't we go back to my place and finish what we started, baby."

  Trudy. The girl Jester had pointed him toward at the beginning of the night. “Finish what?”

  She sat up and pouted. “You promised you’d fuck me.”

  Goddamn my head hurts too much for this right now. “Where’s Irish?” Sober and back in control of most of his faculties, he remember what it was he wanted to ask him. Senna’s photo. He hadn’t seen Irish’s old lady in a long while but he was pretty sure that it was her.

  “They left early,” she said. “Heard their bikes and the other girls talking before I passed out again waiting for you to wake up.” She dangled her feet over the edge of the desk, giggling and pointing her toes at him. “You mumble in your sleep. Talked about threes a lot. And you curse worse than my daddy, and he was a truck driver. And who’s Alvarez?”

  It was a punch to the gut. He was going to be sick. “Get out.” He reached blindly in front of him searching for the garbage can.

  “But you said-”

  “Get out or you’re fired.”

  “I don’t work here.”

  “Get out!” He scrambled to his knees and practically crawled across the room towards the trash bin. “Right now! Get out of my office!”

  Finally she left. As she slammed the door behind her, he released the breath he was holding and emptied his stomach.

  Jester’s pain relief method was very temporary, and when it wore off, everything came back with a vengeance. He’d known that, but he’d thrown himself into it headfirst anyway. A mistake. It could never really go away; he would never feel better. He didn’t deserve to.

  He stood on unsteady legs and made his way to the bathroom to throw water on his face. The man that stared back in the mirror was not the same one he’d seen just a week before. He barely recognized himself. Exhausted. Falling apart.

  As his emptied stomach churned and as his veins buzzed with rage and fear and adrenaline, one face kept invading his mind and drawing his thoughts away from their usual violent and destructive path.

  Senna.

  She'd faced death with her head held high. He had drawn his gun and even then she hadn't crumbled.

  He needed to make things right. Call Irish and at least inquire about her sister.

  And more than that, he just needed to see her.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  “You’re coming with me.”

  He’d only found her because the black Town Car parked outside the shitty watering hole across the street was so utterly out of place, there was no other possible reason for it to be there than for her.

  When he saw that man looming over her, trapping her on her stool against the bar, he knew he was going to lose it. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and nothing else as rage took over. His stride was slow and his intent clear. The patrons around him silenced as he passed.

  "There a problem, here?" He stood close to the man's back, forcing him to twist around as he turned to answer the question.

  "None of your business," the suit answered. Gunner looked him up and down. Everything was crisp and clean right down to his shiny black shoes. Clean shoes said something about a man.

  "Shouldn't wear white to a place like this."

  The man sneered with distaste. "Why's that?"

  Gunner pulled back and punched him dead on the nose with a sickening crack. Blood exploded down the man's chin as he bounced back against the bar.

  People around them ducked away, shouting, but Senna regarded the guy impassively. He didn't freak out over the sight of his own blood - Gunner could grudgingly give him credit for that, whoever the piece of shit was.

  "I'll consider your offer," she said to the man as she slid from the stool. He tried to staunch the crimson flow but it was dripping through his fingers.

  "What the fuck?" he cursed and spat at the ground. He
glared up at Gunner.

  "You stay away from her," Gunner growled. He wasn't sure where this blind protective rage was coming from. He knew he hadn't spared her life so some dick in a suit could try to kidnap her or coerce her or whatever the fuck he was doing.

  "We were just talking, you fucking Neanderthal."

  Gunner drew back to hit him again but Senna's hand was suddenly on his elbow. He relaxed and backed away. That’s a first.

  "Come on," she said.

  He followed her back to the hotel room, clenching and unclenching his fists and listening for sirens.

  "I can't stay here," she said, rushing inside and grabbing her bag without even turning the lights on. He hung back in the doorway. "I know it's a lot to ask, but can you give me a ride somewhere else?" She stood in the center of the dim room, bag dangling from one hand, purse in the other. That damn haircut looked like a deliberate disguise and had been a utter waste. He cursed himself for making her do it.

  "It isn't safe here for me, anymore," she said.

  "Yes it is," he said, finally shutting the door. The late afternoon sun only barely lit the room, just a thin slice of it pouring through the curtains. "Nothing will touch you if I'm here."

  He'd failed everyone else in his life so far. But he wasn't going to let her down. The thought of doing so only exacerbated the grief that was clawing at his chest.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. He shook his head. She dropped both bags and came to him, reaching out and cupping his jaw with both hands. Her thumbs brushed the stubble there while she tried to read his eyes and he struggled to look away. "Something happened while you were away." He wrapped his hands around her wrists, intending to push her off. "Shh," she whispered, "It's okay." Then she lifted onto her toes and pulled his face to hers.

  It was the same effect as the last time - an electric current of heat and passion burned through him as their lips met. I am in such deep shit.

  Time froze. The world outside the room evaporated into the ether. It was like he was drugged; his mind felt foggy. All he could focus on was the perfection of her lips, how incredible they felt against his.

  When her hand snaked down and pressed his growing erection through his pants, it was all he could do to not throw her to the ground and take her right away. Whatever mad spell he was under, she was feeling it, too.

  A shudder ran through him and he broke their kiss. "You trying to kill me, woman?"

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," she said, stepping away, but he was on her again in a moment, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth as he walked her back towards the bed. He would have grinned if his mouth wasn't so busy. She wants it. They fell together and he nestled between her legs with a growl. So goddamn perfect. It was as if the space were built for him.

  His cock pulsed and grew even harder as he looked down at her and ground his hips into her, making her gasp - he wanted obliterate the fabric barriers between then and to bury himself inside her, ravage her, fuck her until she screamed his name. He unbuttoned her shorts.

  "Wait."

  "No."

  "Gunner, I'm serious." He lifted himself higher over her and looked down. She sure as hell didn't look like a woman who wanted to wait, with her flushed cheeks and heaving chest.

  "What?"

  "I meant it, it isn't safe here. He had the key to the room."

  Images flashed through his mind, each one worst than the last. The things that piece of shit could have done... "I should have ripped his head off."

  "I just need to get to a different motel. Or you can let me catch my bus out of here…"

  He wasn’t listening. "Fuck it." He tore the shorts away from her body and let them go flying across the room. "If he shoots me in the back of the head, at least I'll go fast and happy." He had to make her come again, consequences be damned. He didn't know where this overwhelming desire was coming from, but it could not, would not be denied.

  "And if he shoots me?" she whispered.

  "Then you'll go with my tongue inside you, baby."

  "Coming and going," she said with a light laugh.

  The sound made him impossibly harder.

  Making jokes wasn't her style but it had just popped out. She blamed his mouth and the devastating things it did to her. She felt giddy; high, almost.

  And now he was kneeling between her legs, sliding her panties down with that starving glint in his eye.

  "I'll make it quick," he said, squeezing her knee with a wicked grin, "Then we'll get the hell out of here.”

  Why was he doing this? It was more intimate than she was prepared for, but she was helpless to stop it. Well technically I started it. She didn't know what compelled her to touch his cock. She really shouldn't have but the temptation was so strong. I have more willpower than this. Don't I? She felt like she was on fire. "You don't want to just have sex?" she asked, propping up on her elbows. He hovered over her exposed mound and inhaled, then kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

  "No time," he said, "When I fuck you, it'll be for hours." He trailed light kisses to the place where her leg met her body, touching the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue, tickling, teasing. She squirmed.

  "That's quite a boast."

  He didn't respond to that comment. He dove in, fast and hard with his tongue. It send a sharp spear of pleasure straight to her center, and she gasped. He wasn't kidding when he said it wouldn't take long.

  Someone knocked. She was both grateful for and furious at the interruption, but fear took over a moment later. Colin? Goddamn idiot. Gunner will kill him! She yanked up her panties and chased down her shorts as Gunner opened the door, one hand on the gun he kept tucked beneath his arm.

  "You," he growled, sounding surprised.

  "She here?" It wasn't Colin. She recognized that voice. The old man from the club. She was out of his view at the moment, but if he peeked around the door... She walked slowly on her toes toward the bathroom.

  "You fucking followed me? I’m the only one in here." The old man laughed at Gunner's lie and pushed his way inside before Senna could hide.

  She froze, shorts in hand, as the old man looked her up and down with an ugly leer. "This why you let her live? Didn't have enough girls last night?"

  He pulled his gun. Gunner slapped his hand back down before he could raise it. "Don't." The man turned with a glare, instead leveling the gun at him.

  "If you're too much of a pussy to do the job, then I will. Step outside if a little blood is gonna make you faint."

  She was too afraid to speak, too frozen in place. Any move she made would be the wrong move. But she had to do something.

  "Don't shoot me in my underwear. Let me die with a little more dignity than that."

  The old man considered for a moment, then nodded.

  She turned and bent over, giving the dirty old bastard a full view of her ass, the fabric of her panties stretching tight. The move was a gamble. She was banking on Gunner's help, here - grab the gun, do anything at all while he was distracted by the view. Because she didn't know what else to do. There was no other escape that she could see.

  But would he choose her over his friend? They were in that club together; she was just a stranger. A stuck-up college girl who'd been dumb enough to think he might care after he'd touched her the way he had.

  Because that's what had happened to her. She was silly and stupid enough to let it go to her head, to make her think something could happen between them, different as they were. Even if it was short-lived. Even if it was just sex. Now she might never know what could have been.

  She was straightening and pulling her shorts up when she heard the scuffle behind her. Heart rejoicing and racing in fear at the same time, she bolted for the bathroom.

  She pressed the lock and for good measure, she sat with her back against the toilet and planted her feet against the door. Wait, she thought, spinning, back against the door, feet against the toilet. She tried to swallow down the panic that threatened
to take hold. The scuffle continued in the room; no words, just grunting and banging into the furniture. It was no contest unless the man managed to shoot Gunner somehow. Would he? Would one be willing to kill the other before submitting? Please don't, no more blood, no more killing.

  Someone slammed the door with their fist, making her jump. "Let's go." Gunner. She hadn't heard any gunshots, but still...

  "What did you do?"

  "He's tied up but it won't hold long. Move it."

  She jumped to her feet and opened the door. He had her bags hanging from one hand, ready to take off already, but her knees were shaking and she was lightheaded all at once. She had her arms around his neck before she knew what she was doing.

  "Hey. No panicking. You're fine." He indulged her for just a moment, holding her around the waist with his free arm.

  "Thank you," she whispered, and he squeezed her tighter.

  "I'm calling Bill," the old man shouted from the bed. Gunner had bound him with strips of the sheets, but he was already working at wrenching free. They had a few minutes at most.

  "Fuck Bill," Gunner said, dragging her by the hand out the door. She tripped along behind, eager to get out of there.

  They kept their heads down through the parking lot. "So how many people exactly want you dead?" he asked, giving her a hand as she climbed onto his bike.

  "That guy, so I guess the rest of your guys, too. My dad's client, so whoever else he works with or hires." I might need a whole new identity if I get out of here alive.

  He settled on the seat in front of her. "You need a new name, lady."

  "No kidding."

  He fired up the bike and peeled out of the parking lot. She had no clue where they were headed or what he was going to do with her, but in that moment at least, on the open road with her chest pressed against his back, she wasn't afraid. When she'd stepped out of the bathroom, his arms had felt like the safest place in the world.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  They pulled to a stop on a wide, quiet highway. He'd only driven for fifteen minutes and she wondered if the old guy was on their tail. She didn't hear any engines, though; she didn't hear much of anything but birds.