Slick Running (Satan's Devils #3) (Satan's Devils MC)

by Manda Mellett

  Ignoring my protest, he continues, “We have a problem.” Now he lets go of my hands, and rough fingers push a strand of my long auburn hair over my shoulder. For a second he glides it between his fingers. “We think you might be the person to help us. And in return, you get all the biker cock you could want.”

  I can’t say he’s not being forthright and upfront about everything. And there’s a tingle of excitement that I could help them out. Just think how might they reward me! My conversations with Jill come into my head. Oh, I’ll take this man’s cock any way he wants me to. Even in my mouth. There’s just something about him. A rush of arousal influences my response.

  “Okay…”

  “Okay,” he parrots, putting his hand to his head, smoothing over the shaved dome, and is quiet for a while, then, “I said the situation isn’t normal. Thing is Ella, we need someone just like you. We need an attractive woman to go into another club and plant some tiny cameras for us.”

  What? I look him straight in the face, trying to ignore that he called me attractive and focus on the more important part. Giving an incredulous laugh, I respond, “You’re asking me to spy for you? I think you’ve got the wrong person, I’m not James Bond.”

  He snickers. This conversation might be easier if that sound didn’t go straight to my already very wet nether regions. As he reaches for one of my hands and brings it to his lips, it’s at that moment I decide whatever he wants me to do I’d do it, just for the chance to experience his undivided attention for the night. A niggling doubt at the back of my head reminds me it’s usually men that are led by their dicks, and here I am letting my pussy have far too much influence on the matter.

  “Ain’t gonna kid ya. Going into another club? They’ll expect the same as we would.”

  His deep voice affects me on some subconscious level, making me dream of being in his bed. And all I have to do to reach this utopia is go to another biker club, and, by the sound of it, break myself in on a different biker’s cock. But isn’t that exactly what I was planning to do anyway? But Slick, now I’ve met him… I don’t want to lose the chance with him.

  “If,” I cough to clear my throat, which seems to have seized up, “if I do this, will you…?”

  “Will I fuck ya, darlin’?” He gives a low laugh and his eyes rake my body, lingering unashamedly on my tits before coming back to my face. “You can count on that.”

  Before I can reconsider it, I blurt out the words, “You would? Even if I’ve been with another biker first?”

  A strange look passes over his face before he recovers and laughs loudly. “I think you could say that’s part of the job description, darlin’. No, it wouldn’t matter one fuck to me.”

  Again, without thinking the words come out. “I’ll do it.” What? I’m not sure I meant to say that.

  But his expression of pleasure means I can’t take it back. “You will?” Sounding surprised, he turns my head to face him. “I can’t tell you how much this would mean to my club.” Then his smile fades. “Ella, I have to be honest with you. You do everything I say, else it could get dangerous. You’ll need to be careful.”

  Dangerous? I don’t like the sound of putting myself in danger. But I’m not one to go back once I’ve committed. I just mentally note I’ll listen to his every instruction. “I will.”

  “Okay.” He sits forward and clasps his hands between his knees. “This is how it’s going to play out. The club we want you to go to is in Phoenix. We’ll rent a small apartment in your name so it won’t look like you come from out of town. We’ll provide a small junker to get you to and fro.”

  So far it sounds brilliant. To get out of here, and to be given a car? Bring it on!

  “You’ll have to try and get into one of their parties. You’ll need to look sexy for that.” He glances at me again. “Not that you’ll need to do much.”

  I preen at his compliment.

  “The cameras are tiny. We want you to plant as many as you can. Shouldn’t be too difficult, especially later on when they’re drunk. Don’t try to be clever, El. Don’t be tempted go into their church.” At my look of confusion never having thought bikers would be a religious lot, he explains, “It’s where they hold club meetin’s.”

  Ah.

  It all sounds so simple, until I remember the catch. “I’ll have to, er…”

  “Yes, Ella. You’ll have to fuck whoever wants you. But that won’t mean anything, will it? It’s no different to what you’re wantin’ to do for us.”

  That was before I met you. I don’t say that out loud. Then I rationalise it. He’s the first biker I’ve spoken to. Maybe my lady parts would start singing for another if they were anything like him. After a moment I nod.

  “Ella, darlin’. You get can’t get caught. If it’s too risky, don’t place the cameras.”

  “But if I don’t, there’s not much point to going there at all.” I swallow and then put more force in my voice. “I won’t let you down, Slick. I’ll get it done.”

  “Don’t take chances. They’ll kill ya without turnin’ a hair.” His stare tries to impress that he’s deadly serious.

  Shivering, I stand and walk away from the couch, rethinking my hasty agreement. When I turn around I catch the look on his face. It’s one of hunger, and is directed at me. I felt a twinge as my muscles clamp down. He’s so sexy it shouldn’t be allowed.

  “What if they get suspicious?”

  “Then get out of there right away. I’ll be stayin’ close, a phone call away. If you need to get out, or the moment you’ve been successful, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “You?”

  He gives a quick grin. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ll be there. And I won’t leave you stranded.”

  I can only hope the flush on my face doesn’t give away that the assurance of his personal attention pleases me far too much.

  Chapter 3

  Slick

  Present day

  “Hey, Beef!” Seeing him enter through the front door, I wave him on over.

  “Slick.” Giving a chin jerk, my brother crosses the busy restaurant, joining me at the bar at the Wheel Inn, the business that’s owned by the Satan’s Devils MC. Recently we purchased the building next door and have expanded, adding a bar where people can just come for a drink and get bar snacks instead of, or in addition to, having a full-on sit-down meal.

  We keep a light presence here, just enough to make citizens feel safe, but not outnumbered, and not enough for them to think they were in a biker bar if they didn’t already know.

  Beef surveys the full tables around us and motions toward them with his hand. “Seems like we’ve hit it about right here.”

  He’s not wrong, both bar and restaurant are heaving. A good crowd for a Saturday night. Some attracted, of course, by flirting with the edge of danger being in the rumoured biker-owned premises. And it’s that thought that has my eyes returning to a woman who I’ve been watching for a while, debating whether she’s here for that very reason. Her mode of dress seems to scream she may very well be out for a walk on the wild side tonight. And the glances she’s been throwing my way suggest she’s equally interested in me. If I’m reading it correctly, and I’m rarely wrong on these things, I’ll be getting lucky later. Who am I to turn down something offered on a plate?

  I nudge Beef. “Think I might have it fuckin’ made tonight.”

  He barks a laugh as he looks over to where I’m pointing my beer. “I could so hit that.”

  “I’m gonna, Brother.”

  As he raises a quizzical eyebrow, I narrow my eyes. I was here first. Judging the situation correctly, he snorts and offers a good-natured grin. “Looks like it’s the sweet butts for me, back at the compound. See you later, Brother, and don’t forget to glove up.”

  As if I would. I’m never going to get caught in a trap. Nor have an old lady. Been there, done that, and won’t be risking it ever again.

  When Beef leaves I shoot the shit a little with the bartender, not wanting to appr
oach too soon, which might make me appear too over keen or needy, using the time to pointedly survey all the women before making my move. I order another beer and ignore her for a time, while taking the opportunity to check her out in the mirror over the bar. When she starts to fidget and her face falls, it’s then I drain my beer and go over.

  As she looks up her face splits into a relieved smile. Checking I’ve read all the signals right, I lean down and speak into her ear. “Name’s Slick. You want it?”

  At her nod, I curl my hand round her arm and lead her through the now emptying restaurant, steering clear of the staff closing up for the night. Using the staff entrance at the back, I take her outside, pausing once in the fresh air to light up a cigarette. I offer the pack, but she declines. Blowing out smoke I notice her eyeing up my bike. Woman, you’ve got no chance. I’m not letting a skank I don’t know anywhere near that—or any woman I do know for that matter. If she wants to experience biker cock it’s going to be up against the nearest discreet wall which happens to be just around the corner of the building and where I’m leading her now. Yeah, I might have done this a time or two before.

  “You ready for me sweetheart? Am I gonna find you wet?” I don’t wait for her answer, just throw down my half-smoked light, the end burning amber on the ground. Her jagged breathing is the only encouragement I need, signalling her excitement at the coarse words I used. She gasps as I slide my fingers up under her short skirt and into her already dripping slit, every sign showing she’s thoroughly turned on at the thought of such illicit activity.

  I circle her clit, my fingers expertly slipping inside and finding that spot that will make her go wild. Her pussy’s not exactly tight, but it will do for a quick fuck. She closes her eyes and her head rolls back as she spasms around my fingers. Okay, job done, that didn’t take too long. Now for my turn. Undoing my jeans, I release my cock and have it covered with latex before her breathing evens out. I lift her against the wall, her legs go around my waist and then, without fanfare, I thrust inside.

  She gasps and I grin. Yeah, lady. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? A long, thick biker cock. Holding her up with one arm, my other hand against the wall, I start thrusting, my balls already boiling with the need to come.

  Fuck! That phone vibrating in my pocket alerting me to a text is putting me off my game.

  There it goes again. And again. How many fuckin’ people are trying to message me? Shit, just give me a fuckin’ minute will ya? I’m kinda in the middle of something here. I try to ignore it, and hammer in once again.

  Another vibration! Fuck, it better be something fucking urgent else someone’s going to get their head torn off for this. And right now they can take that to the fucking bank. Frustrated, I let my cock slip out of her cunt.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Sorry babe. Gotta look at this.” Easing my phone out of my jeans when they’re shrugged down over my hips isn’t easy. Swearing, I pull them up and finally succeed in sliding the damn thing out, my engorged angry dick knocking against my hand as if showing he’s extremely unhappy about the interruption. Peering down I read the message which has already been sent half a dozen times by the prez, the VP, and a number of others.

  Code Red. Followed by the name of a hospital in the south of Tucson.

  Fuck! My cock instantly starts to deflate as I feel a sharp pain, like a punch to my gut. There’s not enough information, and immediately I’m imagining the worst. Damn Mouse and his fucking insistence on using codes. Red means a brother is down, but gives me no clue as to who it is, or how serious. Quickly tucking my now flaccid cock away, I zip myself up.

  “Slick?”

  I look down at the woman whose name I didn’t bother to discover, she’s still leaning against the back wall of the Wheel Inn, her dress pushed up to her waist, her panties hanging off one ankle. “Sorry babe, gotta run.”

  Leaving her with her mouth gaping open, I run to my bike, step astride, take out and put on my safety glasses in a quick practiced move, the woman already forgotten. Who the fuck has been hurt? And how badly? Unable to consider it might be anything worse, starting the engine I roar off into the night, twisting the throttle and knocking up through the gears fast. Whoever it is, it must be serious, otherwise they’d have just called Doc to come to the clubhouse. This must be beyond anything the ex-Army medic can treat.

  As I ride I think over what had been planned for today, but can’t think of anyone who might have been heading into danger. No runs scheduled which would leave us exposed. Nothing had been discussed at church last night which had bothered us, or nothing out of the ordinary. No, today’s been a usual Saturday, brothers relaxing and doing the shit that makes them happy. What the fuck has happened?

  Arriving in record time, I’m chilled to see the number of Harleys parked outside the emergency room. It looks like everyone’s here. Backing in on the end of the line, I switch off my engine and listen to the cooling engine ticking, rubbing my hand over the smooth bald dome of my head as I try to prepare myself for bad news.

  Taking a breath, knowing I’ll be getting no answers sitting out here, I get off and go toward the entrance, in two minds as to whether I want to hurry or not, not overly eager to hear what I suspect won’t be good.

  If you can believe what you see on television, you’d expect an emergency room to be a hive of activity—trolleys being pushed, people shouting orders, medical staff running around, patients bleeding over the floor, and relatives screaming and crying. But here everything appears to be orderly. There’s even a couple of nurses standing chatting, laughing, and sharing a joke. My fists clench at my sides. If one of my brothers has been hurt, why the fuck aren’t they doing anything other than hanging around? But causing a commotion won’t help me get answers. I satisfy myself with a glare in their direction as I smartly step up to the reception desk.

  I don’t have to say anything. One glance at my cut and, with a look which I can interpret as thinly veiled disgust, the man behind the computer screen doesn’t wait for me to speak before telling me in a bored voice, “Family room. Down that corridor, take a left, then third door on the right.”

  Suspecting it’s not the first time tonight he’s give the parroted instruction, I spin on my heels and follow the direction he’s pointed. Opening the door, I notice immediately the room’s far too small to comfortably hold the number of people waiting inside.

  My eyes scan quickly, calculating who’s here and who’s missing, but with all the bodies milling around, sprawled over the available chairs and spilling onto the floor, it’s not easy to immediately spot the omission. It looks like everyone’s present, including the old ladies, and even little Amy, who’s snuggled up on the president’s old lady’s lap. An undercurrent of low conversation comes across as a background murmur, and Carmen and Sandy are sniffling. Sophie’s leaning against Wraith, her eyes rimmed red.

  Drum’s eyes flick to me and he raises his chin, then stands and comes over. I see lines etched deep on his forehead. “What, who is it, Prez?” My voice breaks with emotion.

  With his hand on his beard, he gives a shake of his head and swallows before giving me the answer. “It’s Heart and Crystal. They’re in a bad fuckin’ way.”

  “What the fuck?” My eyes widen. “What’s fuckin’ going on, Prez? What’s happened?”

  Now his hand touches my arm, a gesture of comfort. “We don’t know what the fuck happened, Slick. They were out for a ride, citizen reported it in apparently. The bike was down, off the road, Crystal and Heart both unconscious. They haven’t come round yet, far as we’ve been told.”

  Turning, I slam my fist into the wall, my breath catching in my throat. “Fuck, they gonna be okay?” But one look back at Drum and I know he can’t reassure me. “Fuck.” My eyes go to little three-year-old Amy. Both her fucking parents? Life wouldn’t be so fucked up as to take them both away, would it? “Was it an accident…?” Or did someone deliberately run them off the road, I finish the thought in my mind.

/>   The prez shakes his head when he speaks it’s through gritted teeth. “We don’t know anything. I’ll take a couple of the brothers and run out there in the mornin’ and see what we can find. The citizen who called it in didn’t see it happen.”

  “I’ll come with.” If this was done on purpose the motherfucker who did it will pay.

  As Drum jerks his head in recognition of my offer, Blade comes over, followed by Dart, and both nod at Drum. “We’re goin’ for a smoke. Wanna come, Slick?”

  Having only just got here, I need a second to get my head around what’s going on. But as I open my mouth to refuse the suggestion, a man in a white coat appears in the doorway.

  “Family of Crystal Norman?”

  Brothers stand up, or at least give him their attention. Drum takes the lead, his hand circling around. “That’s all of us.”

  “That’s me,” a new voice interrupts.

  From my vantage point by the doorway I see the doctor’s been followed by a middle-aged woman. She’s scruffily dressed, a woollen cardigan wrapped around her that’s seen better days, dirty and worn with burn holes from cigarette ash. Her hair’s in a mess as if it hasn’t been brushed, and her face is pinched, her lips thin. I immediately dislike her.

  “I’m Crystal’s mother,” she states as I finish making my inspection.

  “Right, er…” The man, who I assume is a doctor, looks flummoxed.

  “Any news, you tell us together.” From the sneer on his face, Drummer cares about as much about the newcomer as I do. If she’s not an addict I’ll eat my fucking hat. The doctor pushes back his hair, at a loss what to do. He glances down at the woman and wrinkles his nose. Yup, he’s caught a whiff of her too. I feel fleeting amusement expecting he’s wondering what’s worse, a roomful of bikers or this distasteful woman.

  “Crystal,” Drum prompts, using the voice no one with any sense would argue with. “How’s she doin’?”

  After a quick nod to show the prez’s encouragement has worked, the doctor looks down and composes his face into the one he probably always wears when delivering sad news. When he peers back up he tells us, “I’m sorry to inform you that Mrs Norman didn’t make it. There was excessive bleeding on her brain. We did what we could to relieve it, but she died on the operating table.”