Claimed: Satan's Knights MC

by Brook Wilder

  “Don’t go out through the front,” he said gruffly, looking over her flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and tousled hair. Those pricks would take one look at her and fall all over themselves trying to get to her. Gently, Honey swept one stray lock of blond hair behind one ear as he struggled with all the things he wanted to say, but he was out of time. “Go through the back door and around to the parking lot. The side gate’s unlocked. You should be able to get through unseen.”

  Elle’s expression softened at his words as she huffed out a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks, Honey, I’ll see you…I’ll–” she paused, taking a deep breath, “Goodbye.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  She gave him one last look, barely more than a glance out of the corner of her sweet, dark eyes and then she was gone, slipping through the door to disappear as if she’d never been. But he could still smell her on him, could still feel the incredible softness of her skin under his fingertips. He could still taste her.

  He stared at the spot Elle had just been for a long minute, his thoughts tumbling and turbulent, no end and no beginning to the argument that ran in circles through his head. What had just happened? Something had definitely just happened because he had walked into this office one man, the old Honey, and now he felt…different. In a way that he couldn’t explain, that he couldn’t put into words.

  Honey could never remember feeling this way before. As if his whole world had been dark clouds and then suddenly a ray of sunshine had burst through, illuminating everything. His hands tightened into fists as he tried to make sense of it, make sense of the sudden lightness that filled him. And that’s when he felt it. The note. It was still crushed against his palm. Sitting there like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off.

  Slowly, he held it up, carefully smoothing it out again on the top of the desk. He could still feel the heat from Elle’s body radiating from it and he cursed again, a string of low spoken words that he meat with all his heart. But if his suspicions were right, then he didn’t have time to wait. Honey re-read the hand scrawled not once, and then again, and then one final time. There was no other thing it could mean.

  It hit him like a ton of bricks, like a dead weight falling on him from the top of a three story building. The Dirty Cruisers was his home, it was his family. It was his life and it had been for ten years. And he held proof in his hand that someone was trying to tear it all apart. And it what made it worse was that it was one of their own. Viper.

  The note was proof that Viper was planning a coup to take down Joel and become the next president of the Dirty Cruisers himself. Honey snorted out loud at the thought. As if Viper, that snot nosed, nasal son of a bitch had the brains to run an operation like this. He thought everything was riding into the sunset with guns blazing. He would learn soon enough that there was a hell of a lot more to leading than that.

  He had to tell Joel.

  Fuck. Honey knew that his president, and friend, had his suspicions but this would be a blow to him. He loved this crew as much as Honey did and he knew how much it would hurt him. It would cut him to the bone. But he’d have to put a stop to it before it was too late.

  A loud, clattering noise caught his attention and Honey jumped, before swearing at himself. He took a bare second to get himself back in order. Every time he moved, Elle’s scent reached him, filling his lungs with thoughts of her, memories of her lush curves and the breathy moans that had fallen out of her sweet mouth when he’d made her come.

  “Come on Honey, get your shit together!” he growled at himself as he zipped and buttoned his dark denim jeans. He grabbed the note, once more clenching it in his fist, and rushed out to find Joel.

  ***

  Elle looked back once at the door she’d just walked through but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Because if she stopped, she knew in the next instant she’d be back there, begging Honey not to stop. Begging him to– she shook her head vehemently, trying to dig her thoughts back out of the gutter but it seemed they’d taken up permanent residence there.

  She could feel it happening, the waves of anxiety, the feeling of claustrophobia that always came before the panic attack hit. But it was different now, not as intense. And oddly enough, whenever her thoughts trailed back to Honey and what had just happened between them, the anxiety lessened, melting away to be replaced with lust and desire and need. A dizzying combination that she didn’t understand.

  Elle still couldn’t believe that she had done that. That it had been her standing there in front of the mirror, begging him, saying those things. She shook her head again, but this time for a different reason. It had been…freeing. Liberating. For those too brief, wonderful moments, she had felt like someone else. Someone normal. Someone real. Someone who wasn’t afraid to see what they want and then take it.

  She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. But it had been her. She could still feel Honey’s touch, could still taste his kiss. Could still remember exactly the way it felt when he was inside her. Elle shuddered at the memory, in desire or embarrassment she wasn’t sure. Her emotions were so tangled up it was impossible for her to sort out where one started and the next began.

  She was just nearing the back door when a noise stopped her. Voices. There were voices coming from the other side. Elle crept closer, pricking her ears to listen but the words were muffled and she couldn’t pick out more than one in every three of four. But that was enough to tell her that they were talking about Joel, Carla’s boyfriend and the president of the bikers. And the talk didn’t seem particularly friendly, either.

  Without thought, she moved as close as she could, her ear nearly pressed against the door but its heavy steel blocked out most of the sound. She gasped as it started to open, her heart in her throat as she tried to back away but there was nowhere to hide. It was just an empty, open hallway.

  The panic was back now in full force like a drug rushing through her veins, freezing her where she stood but then another noise sounded, loud and from the direction of the main bar at the front of the clubhouse.

  “Shit! We’re missing all the action.”

  “Come on, Buck. They’re starting without us!” The reason why the voices had sounded familiar hit her hard. It was that…that degenerate Buck and his sniveling crony. Elle closed her eyes as the door closed again, the sound of their hurried footsteps receding as they ran the other way around to the bar.

  Elle didn’t know how long she stood there trembling uncontrollably, hours maybe, or mere minutes, but finally she forced her legs to move, first one and then the other. She gripped the handle for the door twice, her sweaty palms slipping off the cool metal, before she could pull it open and sneak through.

  She didn’t stop at all, taking off like a shot as soon as she was outside, the dark night air falling around her like a blanket, turning everything into menacing shadows. By the time she made it to her car her heart was galloping like a herd of wild horses and it took her three tries to get the keys in the ignition and turn the engine over.

  Finally, she pulled out of the driveway and out onto the highway that would lead her home, to safety, and away from Honey. And as she drove, the clubhouse receding quickly as she sped away, her thoughts kept coming back to him again and again, dread filling her stomach at the realization that she would see him the next day at the farm. The one man who had teased her and tormented her and kept her on edge for over six months, and now, he was with her. She could feel him, twinging around her heart no matter what she did to stop him.

  “Damn it!” she cursed softly, fighting against him, fighting against herself. But it was no use. He was already there, burrowed deep. It would take a hell of an effort to get him back out again. Well, no one had ever said that Elle Watson gave up easily.

  Chapter 13

  Honey rushed down the empty hallway towards the front of the clubhouse. A part of him had been hoping that Elle would still be there somehow, standing just outside the door, waiting for him. He shook his head, calling himself a hundred type
s of foolish at the useless thought. If he knew anything, it was Elle Watson and he would bet any amount of money that just then she was having one of her bouts of anxiety, trying to convince herself that nothing had happened between them, that it was just a moment of weakness, that it didn’t mean anything.

  “Fuck that,” he whispered angrily under his breath, at her or at himself he wasn’t sure. But he did know one thing. It sure as hell had happened, and it sure as hell had meant something. A great fucking something, actually.

  With a sigh, he fought to tear his thoughts away from Elle and back to the problem at hand, because, as he neared the big double doors that separated the bar from the rest of the clubhouse, he could tell that there was most definitely a problem.

  Honey could hear the familiar rumble of anger coming from the main room and he could feel the tension, hanging in the air like a lit fuse even before he pushed open the doors and walked in.

  He stopped in his tracks just in front of the door but nobody turned towards him, nobody even noticed he was there at all as he quickly scanned the crowded room full of rowdy drunk bikers, more unfamiliar faces than he cared for. And they were angry. Angry like only a mob could be angry. That irrational rage that feeds off itself like a cancer, growing and growing, wild and out of control, and Honey knew, completely unpredictable. All it would take was one match to have this crowd going off like fireworks.

  It was then he noticed it. Everyone’s gaze was locked on whatever was happening in the center of the bar, but at the back of the crowd as he was there were too many people in front of him to see. His view was blocked. It took a little bit of maneuvering, sticking to the outer perimeter until he found a clearing that leant him a view of what was happening, what had captured all of their attention. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw it.

  Damn it. He’d been worried about getting the note to Joel before it was too late, but it looked like it already was. Standing there in the middle of the circle of bikers was Joel. He was still sitting on one of the bar stools, looking coolly unconcerned, but Honey knew the man. And he might as well have been a boxer waiting on the balls of his feet, just waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Honey could see it in the tense line of his shoulders, the way his eyes moved constantly, always watching, always assessing. He had moved slowly until the bar was at his back. Smart. That way no one could sneak up on him. And if the President of the fucking Dirty Cruisers was worried about someone trying to take him out, Honey was damn near pissing in his pants.

  Of course he, like Joel, had learned at a young age to never show fear, to always keep it locked tight inside. Because enemies could always smell fear, like a shark scenting blood in the water. A weakness that could be exploited. And it broke Honey’s heart a little to have to think of his crew, of his family, as enemies. But they were circling now. He didn’t have much of a choice.

  “God damn it, Joel,” Honey muttered under his breath as he shifted and he could see who was facing off against their president. He couldn’t say he was surprised in the least to see Viper standing there. His hands clenched into fists, his face red and mottled with anger, and his eyes glaring bloody fucking murder at Joel. Yeah, he was definitely too late.

  For a second, Honey wondered how it could have happened. After their old president had retired, Joel had been voted in unanimously as the new leader. He’d proven himself after all the shit that had gone down with that asshole Maurice and the drug shipment gone bad. Hot Wheels had been arrested, and they all had come close to being put away as well.

  Most of the details were still unknown to the rest of the crew. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for Viper to manipulate them. Because he knew what had happened six months ago. He had fucking helped them to move the shipment of stolen weed. And then Joel had realized just how profitable the farm was and backed Carla when she took it over.

  It had seemed like the perfect solution at the time. A way for them to keep up business as usual and protect the members from getting arrested or getting into trouble with the law again. But Viper had taken it, and twisted it, into something else entirely. Something that served his plan perfectly to overthrow Joel and take over as president himself.

  Honey snorted out loud. Viper, as president of the Dirty Cruisers? He’d rather shoot himself in the foot than have to follow orders from that arrogant, self-centered, delusional bastard. And he was delusional if he thought that they would give up without a fight.

  Quickly, he scanned the tense crowd until he found them. Tucker, the large man standing just to Joel’s right, shifting from foot to foot as if he wasn’t sure where the first attack would come from, a look of strain on his normally placid face. Carla was right behind him, fear and concern visible in her bright blue eyes even from where Honey was standing. She looked like she wanted to run forward to stand beside Joel but Tucker kept her back with a light touch on her arm. He bent down to whisper something and finally she nodded, firm resolve taking over where the need to fight had just been.

  A few feet over, Honey spotted Hot Wheels. She had the same look of readiness that Carla had, but it was tempered with resignation. Unlike Carla, who had only known the crew for less than a year, Hot Wheels had been a member for almost as long as he himself had. And she’d seen fights before, bad fights, but never in the crew itself. Like it was fragmenting from the inside and Honey felt a moment of helplessness because he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know how to stop the only family he’d ever known from tearing itself apart.

  The one good thing, Honey thought to himself as a bitter half smile pulled up one corner of his mouth, was that Elle wasn’t there. Knowing her, she would have already jumped right in the middle of this shit show and would be trying to talk them all down, probably using words that none of these assholes would understand and, in the end, causing more trouble than anything else. And the whole time he would be dragging her delectable ass to safety she’d be telling him, in that prim and proper teacher’s voice that she used when she was lecturing, that she had the situation perfectly in control and that he had no right to save her. Again.

  He could practically hear her voice in his head and the sound swept through him, distracting him. And knew it was too dangerous to let himself be distracted, so with an effort of will, he pushed thoughts of Elle away, tucking them back in the corner of his mind as he tried to focus on what was happening in front of him. Because he could feel it. He could feel the tension grow even thicker in the bar as everyone seemed to hold their breath. And then he heard it.

  The raised voices of Joel and Viper. The angry crowd shifted again and he lost his vantage point, unable to see them he was flying blind and they were too far away and the rumble of the biker’s too loud for him to make out the words. All he could hear was their voices, sharp, tense, and on edge.

  With a jolt, Honey pushed through the crowd, the note still crumpled in his fist, forgotten now as he tried to get closer, feeling time start to slow in that odd way that it always does right before something really, really bad is about to happen. Like now. He could feel the tension ramp up even higher, the anger pull tighter like a string on a puppet made to dance and they were all just part of the act.

  But this wasn’t a play, this was real, his world, his family, being torn apart right in front of his eyes and he prayed that Joel would be able to figure out some way to stop it from happening. That hope flared for a moment as he finally made it to the front of the crowd and he could see his friend take a step forward, one hand outstretched in a gesture of peace.

  “…Listen, Viper. I don’t know what you hope to achieve with this but it’s not going to happen. Not like this.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Joel,” Viper sneered the other man’s name but Joel didn’t even flinch, just kept watching in that collected, cool-headed way he had. Always calm, always in control. And Honey could see that it infuriated Viper.

  “Yes I do,” Joel shot back, taking another step forward but
stopped with Viper hissed, “I do know. I know this club, I know this crew. Dirty Cruisers is my family. I know every single one of you.” Joel looked around the room as he said this, some of the members looking away, guilt in their eyes, but an alarming number just continued to glare right back. Shit. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  “No you don’t!” Viper boasted, “I’ve been busy. While you’ve been fucking around at that stupid farm, I’ve been recruiting new members. Members that are loyal to me, not you!” There was a dissatisfied rumble from some of the older members at the man’s irate words. Every biker was loyal to the Dirty Cruisers, loyal to the club itself. Sure, they had leaders and presidents but at the end of the day, it was family first, always.

  “God, you really don’t get it, do you Viper?” Joel said, shaking his head in disbelief, “You arrogant prick. You think that you’ll become president and then what?”

  “Then I’ll be the leader. Not you. Then they’ll have to listen to what I say and there won’t be any more of this pansy ass talk about going straight and all that bullshit,” Viper spat out, the venom in his words palpable and Honey just shook his head. Joel was right. Viper really didn’t have a fucking clue.