Hope leads to inevitable disappointment. The history between Avery and me is a tangled mess, one that landed me bloody on Old Earl’s doorstep more than once.
“I’m in town, but headed back out,” I cut to the chase. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid, I need to make this quick. “I’ve made some new arrangements for you.”
“Why?” the question automatically comes out.
If only I knew why I had made the deal in the first place, it would answer more than just this momentary question.
“Gave my word. Keep my word.”
“You’re released from your obligation, Mitchell.” The sound of my given name from that voice is my heaven and my hell entwined.
“If you’d stay at this place, you’d being doing me and a friend a solid favor.”
“A favor, huh?” There is a sharpness to the tone, and it hits me in my gut.
“Gotta ride for a while. Collector … Well, he collected himself an old lady, and she’s got herself a house here. Real nice place, low key, and no neighbors on top of you like the apartment.”
“Go on,” Avery encourages, and for a moment, I have hope.
“She’s got some fish. Feed the fish, keep ’em alive, and the place is yours. When we make our way back to ’Bama, we’ll discuss what happens next.”
“Don’t treat me like a dirty, little secret, Mitchell.”
“Avery,” I growl. “I don’t have time for this shit right now. You stayin’ at Sonnie’s or what?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Dammit, what’s it gonna take to make you okay again?”
“When the time comes and you make your way back, we make a decision for good. No more waiting around, Mitchell. No more drunk calls after the skank pussy didn’t satisfy you. This is it.”
My chest heaves in anxiety. I can’t lose Avery. I can’t hold on, either.
“This is it,” I concede into the phone before I disconnect the call.
Fucking ultimatums.
The green eyes looking back at me from the mirror contain unknown evil. Swinging, I connect my fist with the glass. The mirror shatters as the blood drips down the drain.
The white sink basin fills with red splatters as my knuckles drip, the stark red contrasting against the white.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Bringing my head up, I see a reflection staring back at me in pieces. The reflection should be of a man. Instead, it’s a fractured soul.
Fractured.
Broken.
Damaged.
I was in the red before I was ever born. A bastard boy born to a whore, I have had Satan in my blood since conception. My debt to the devil himself will never be cleared.
Just like Ralphie, I know what forbidden is. As much as it pains Dover and Sonnie to live without Raleigh, she’s better off.
The scars to our souls never heal.
Why did we have to come here of all places?
The display of my phone lights up as it vibrates against the countertop.
I don’t answer.
My mind hears his voice without allowing him the connection. “Mitchell.” The rasp of my name comes off sultry and needy.
The phone stops as my cock hardens from memories.
The vibration comes again, and the screen lights up. Looking down, I see the same name appear.
Freeing my dick, I stroke, rolling up and down firmly, twisting the head. What I don’t do is answer the call.
The blood from my busted knuckles runs down over my cock, working as lube.
“Mitchell,” my mind replays his voice. “I’ve got you trapped,” he whispers, and my ass tightens.
I close my eyes and swear I can feel him.
Tight.
Breaking through.
No barrier. Nothing hidden.
I stroke faster. My breaths come quicker and harder. My head falls against the mirror, the shards digging in.
Pain.
I stroke wildly, releasing my come in a mess against the countertop and cabinet. Jizz and blood mix together on my hand as I work myself until I fall limp in my own hand.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, I let myself taste forbidden once again. I blink my eyes open, looking at the many versions of me in the broken glass. Then I turn on the faucet to clean up. When I make it back, I’m going to lose it all this time.
Another tally marked on the books, another debt claimed, and the time has come for another ride.
After all, the devil always gets what he’s due.
~ The End ~
Until the next crime goes unpunished in Below the Line, coming mid-summer 2016. Author Ryan Michele has claimed Trapper, but feel free to make her share. She can happily entertain you with the Vipers Creed MC Series. Challenged is the first book in this exhilarating new series. Check out the excerpt in the back.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom, chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write about blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.
Chelsea can be found on social media at:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron
Twitter: @chelseacamaron
Email: [email protected]
Other works by Chelsea Camaron
Love and Repair Series:
Crash and Burn
Restore My Heart
Salvaged
Full Throttle
Beyond Repair
Stalled
Box Set Available
Hellions Ride Series:
One Ride
Forever Ride
Merciless Ride
Eternal Ride
Innocent Ride
Simple Ride
Heated Ride
Ride with Me (Hellions MC and Ravage MC Duel)
Originals Ride (coming June 2016)
Final Ride (coming Fall 2016)
Roughnecks Series:
Maverick
Heath
Lance
Box Set Available
Stay (Standalone Taboo Romance)
Co-Written Series
The Fire Inside Series:
Co-written by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt
Kale
Regulators MC Series:
Co-written by Jessie Lane
Ice
Hammer
Caldwell Brothers Series:
Co-written by MJ Fields
Hendrix
Morrison
Jagger
Below the Line (Devil’s Due MC 2)
The bastard boy was left alone when his mother was murdered and her killer never found. The domino effect of one person’s crime going unpunished is everlasting.
He’s no saint.
Owen ‘X’ Gallow has never known a real home. Groomed by the streets, he now has a life with the Devil’s Due MC that gives him the only comfort he has ever known. Family comes by blood and by choice. All Owen has left is his by selection. He keeps his circle close and doesn’t care to have a future.
She’s not afraid to call herself a sinner.
Hadley Combs doesn’t ask questions, and she has never had anyone to cover her back. She was born alone and will die alone, or at least, that’s how she views her life. In order to get by, she has a job to do—get them off and get herself paid, no talking necessary. The life of a hooker isn’t easy, but she gets by.
However, danger climbs in her bed.
Will Owen find a way to let Hadley in? When faced with the dangers of her lifestyle, will Hadley let Owen and his brothers keep her safe?
Love, hate, anger, and passion collide as the time comes, and the devil demands his due.
Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1) ©Ryan Michele
2016
Prologue
My head filled with a cloudy, dense fog that I couldn’t shake. Even with my eyes open, a filmy haze covered them, making everything blurry. Voices were muffled, as if I were under water, sinking. I thought I recognized one, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
Too hard to think.
I attempted to pull my arms up, but they were immediately halted by something. The hard, cold, heavy attachments clinked like metal. Even straining to move them, my muscles were so weak, so lethargic I couldn’t. I tried my legs, and the same thing happened.
A hard surface pressed against my back as the cool air of the room cascaded over my skin, my nipples, my stomach… Oh God, was I naked?
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream as deep panic set in. Unfortunately, nothing came out except air. Even that took more effort than I had in me.
Placing the pieces of the puzzle together, I couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything.
Heat at my side had me turning in that direction, only to see a fuzzy, black figure. I squinted then blinked, trying to get the focus to come back, but nothing. Not a damn thing.
“Hello, darlin’. Welcome to hell.”
Chapter One
Trix
A lump gathered in my throat settling like a rock, hard and brutal, sucking the wind out of me. My hand slightly twitched as I dialed the number I never in a million years thought I would call. I switched the phone to my other hand in an effort to shake out the trembling, because nervousness wasn’t an option. Trix Lamasters would not turn into some twit who couldn’t think straight over one phone call. Being a shrewd businesswoman, I’d learned from the best not to let shit get to me, how to compartmentalize things and deal.
I swallowed hard, moving the lump from my throat to settle into my gut like a boulder. As I focused, my breathing evened out. The thick steel in my spine could handle anything life threw at me, including this call. Including the man who would be on the other end of the line.
The green button stared back at me, my finger hovering over it. Then I pressed it and pulled the phone to my ear just as it started ringing.
One ring … two … three …
“What?” was barked through the phone line with a male’s voice tainted by harsh impatience.
“Can I talk to Cade? Shit.” I stopped myself. He wasn’t Cade anymore. I needed to remember that a lot had changed. “I mean, Spook. Is Spook around?”
Silence.
“Hello?” I pulled the phone away from my ear, looking at the bright screen, making sure the call hadn’t dropped. Nope, the little numbers in the corner were still counting away. I pressed it back to my ear, waiting a few beats.
“Who wants to fucking know?” His tone turned gruffer, almost as if he were a protective watch dog of Cade’s, and nothing or no one got past him.
Watch dog or not, I wasn’t about to get eaten.
“This is Trix Lamasters. I need to speak to him.”
More silence, not even a breath or noise in the background.
“Hello?”
His voice came over the line right as I intended to speak again. “Stop fucking saying hello. I’m here.”
Hell, maybe someone pissed in his Wheaties this morning, his attitude having nothing to do with me. Or maybe it was just him.
I slapped my hand to my forehead as the word dumbass rang in my mind.
“Sorry, I thought the call dropped.” Now I apologized to the rude man? Get a grip, Trix.
“What do you need with Spook?” The guard dog didn’t give me an inch. Nevertheless, he didn’t need to know my business.
I needed a diversion.
“Can you just get a message to him to call me?”
“Babe, either tell me what you need, or nothing fuckin’ gets to him.” His tone turned flat and resolute.
“Fuck,” I muttered then heard him chuckle. The damn man needed a bone before he played. Asshole. “An employee of mine has been seen at your clubhouse. I need to talk to her.”
“Call her,” he quipped.
“She doesn’t have a phone,” I retorted, feeling the fire burn in my veins.
“Not my problem,” the man sneered. From his attitude, I knew he would have no problem hanging up on me right now, never telling Cade I needed to talk to him. Good thing I dealt with assholes on a regular basis.
“Look, the bitch owes me money.” Anger raced through my body. I let it be heard through each clipped word.
He let out a deep laugh that was almost intriguing if he weren’t a jerk. “You may as well kiss that cash good-bye.”
My pride had other ideas.
“Fuck no. I want what’s owed to me.” I sighed, needing a different tactic. “Look, can you just give Spook my name?” He would either call or he wouldn’t, but maybe that would get the dog to want to nose around. Maybe curiosity would get him to spread my name at least.
“This is gonna be fun. Hang on.” The man must have covered the mouthpiece with his hand, because everything he said was muffled except for him calling Spook’s name. That, I could hear clearly. My adrenaline spiked at the thought of Cade coming on the line.
“Yeah?” a voice I recognized from my dreams said into the phone. The deep, raspy tenor had grown over time and slithered down my spine all the way to my knees, giving them a slight tremble. It took only one word to make my stomach flip.
Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea, but I wasn’t that girl anymore. He would not have power over me. I wouldn’t allow it.
I paced my small living room, needing the movement to get my knees back in line.
“Cade? It’s Trix Lamasters.”
“First, the name’s Spook. Second, who?”
That one kind of stung. Alright, more than stung. It tore another hole in my already battered heart was more like it. The asshole didn’t even remember me, but what did I expect, being one in a sea of many? There was absolutely no reason I would have stood out to him.
“We went to school together,” I tried.
Silence.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, hoping divine intervention would give me the gift of patience or a gun. Neither came.
“Whatever. I get you don’t remember me, but you have one of my employees there. I need to talk to her. She owes me money, and I need it back.”
“Trixie Lamasters.” I could hear the devilish grin as his words snaked over the phone. Not going to lie, my pussy quivered.
No one called me Trixie anymore, because once upon a time, he did and I had loved it. After he abruptly left my life, taking the one thing I could never get back, I refused to let anyone call me by that name. Never again would I allow the hollow feeling that name represented to seep through me. Now, hearing him after fifteen years, the vault of memories opened wide, something I did not want to happen. I didn’t want to feel, yet each recollection of the past bombarded my mind.
“Long time.”
I paused mid-step as a flash of younger Cade hit me. Shaking my head clear, I continued to pace through my living room.
“Yeah, very long. Anyway, you have a woman there by the name of Nanette King. Can you hand her over to me?”
I wouldn’t let the smoothness of his voice draw me in like it had all those years ago, reducing me to a pile of teenaged mush. Strictly business, I told myself, because business I could handle.
“How do you know she’s here?”
“I had her followed, and it led to you.”
I guessed he didn’t like the fact that I had found her that way, judging from the muttered curses that followed. Each word made me smile. I had a payroll of people who worked for me now, and some little twit-fart would not run off with my money. That wasn’t how I operated my business.
Nanette had fallen off the radar. Cade’s club happened to be the last place she was seen; therefore, I had to call him. I may as well have strapped zip-ties around my wrists, locking them in place.
“First, if she’s at the club, there’s a reason. Second, bitches here don’t
go by their real names, so I don’t know if she’s around, because I don’t know a Nanette. Third, you come to the clubhouse, and we’ll talk.”
Business was business, but my heart spiked at the thought of seeing him again.
Cade’s club, Vipers Creed MC, had been in Dyersburg for years. Even before I came into this world, their presence had been well known. This town had tales, but these days, the Vipers were mostly known for Creed’s Automotive where they made custom bikes and cars in their own little world located on the outskirts of town.
I’d hoped to avoid a meeting since I couldn’t see any point to it. I wasn’t in the mood for a high school reunion. The past needed to stay there, locked up tight.
“I’ll describe her to you. Tell me if she’s there, and I’ll send someone over to get her,” I declared, trying to veer him from this path.
Negotiations were something I excelled at. There had to be an arrangement that suited us both, one we could manage over the phone. It would be the best course of action. The less contact I had with him, the better. I could have Ike, one of the bouncers at Sirens, pick her up. Win-win all around.
He chuckled, and my body went on alert because of the slyness in it.
“Babe, you don’t get how this works. You want something from me that I have, bring your ass here, and we’ll discuss it. Tomorrow night, seven.” Silence.
This time when I looked at the screen, the number fifty-seven blinked rapidly. He’d hung up on me.
“That arrogant piece of shit!” I growled, tossing my phone to the couch where it bounced on the cushion.
I should have known he’d still be a dick. Some things never changed. Guess I was going to meet up with Cade after all.
I completely ignored the slight tremor that thought caused.
The story continues in Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1)
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In The Red: Nomad Bikers (Devil's Due MC Book 1) Page 14