Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance

by Joanna Wilson

  “ Who’s her father?” asked Short John.

  “Theo Johnson, head of the Marauders,” Pax answered with a grimace. He then turned back to Short John, smiled and added, “It’s a little complicated.”

  “Your girlfriend is the daughter of the head of the Marauders!?” Short John sputtered.

  “I told you it was complicated. Just keep her safe!”

  Pax held Sammie lightly in his arms and now spoke softly to her, “I have to go see if I can save Keith. Short John will keep you safe, and will take you to your father if things go totally south. Remember that I love you, and I will come back to you.”

  “You are going to risk your life for him, after what he did to me?” Sammie asked, somewhat heatedly.

  “I have to,” Pax answered. “He’s a Knight, and I am the leader of the Camden Knights. As some old fart politician once said, ‘He may be a bastard son of a bitch, but he is my bastard son of a bitch.’ I have to do it.”

  Looking Pax in the eyes through her own tears, Sammie said, “You know that I will hate you if you die doing this for someone like Keith.” Then she sighed and continued, “but at the same time, know always in your heart that the fact that you feel you have to do it is part of why I love you. Stay safe. I love you. Come back to me.”

  She then turned and walked silently with Short John out into the main room.

  “Double D!” Pax called out. “Is Long John’s second bike still set up as a cop bike?”

  “Yeah,” came a shouted response.

  “Gas it up and put the medical carrier on the back. Key into the police dispatch computer and indicate that Unit-whatever the hell the police number is on that bike-is making a snake antivenom run down to the desert aid station.”

  One of the ruses that the Knights often used to transport drugs was to make it appear that a motorcycle cop was transporting snake antivenom or other emergency medical supplies to or from one of the many small hospitals or aid stations near the border. Once, a heart ready for transplant, which was really 9 kilos of prime product, was rushed into downtown Phoenix, where a properly bribed hospital tech accepted the shipment and transferred it into a body bag ready for pickup by a local mortuary.

  The fake cop bike was a daring ruse, but it worked. And it was a real adrenaline rush to race down the highway, lights flashing and siren blaring, knowing that if you were actually stopped or questioned, everything would be discovered. But nobody—not even the vigilante border patrols—ever questioned someone transporting blood or anti-venom or a snake that needed to be identified to save a bitten child.

  Keith was going overland. Pax would be using the highways, which were longer but much faster, especially when you were able to weave in and out of traffic at 20 to 30 miles per hour over the limit. With any luck, Pax would arrive at the rendezvous point before The Boss acted to kill Keith.

  It was a hard ride, but two hours later he was turning onto a rough desert road toward the scheduled meeting at an abandoned mine camp in the middle of nowhere. As he flew down the road in a cloud of dust, Pax kept the lights on and the siren blaring. There were most likely guards and/or snipers posted along the way who could easily pick him off if he tried to sneak in. He was banking on the fact that, without specific orders, they would hold off if he came blasting in alone. It was a big risk, but Pax was betting that they wouldn’t take him out, if for no other reason than because they would want to know what kind of crazy, idiot cop would try to take on an army of ruthless, armed men alone.

  As he reached the end of the desert road, Pax could see three SUVs arranged in a semi-circle at the edge of the old camp. Without slowing down, he rode toward the middle of the circle and at the last moment leaned the bike into a full speed, sliding U-turn, holding the bike up with one leg as the tires broke free and skidded in the soft ground.

  While the dust was still clearing from the air, Pax dropped the bike and took off the leather police jacket to reveal a Camden Knights denim vest beneath it. Everyone there, except Keith, was pointing a weapon at him as he walked slowly over to the group of gathered men and stood directly in front of The Boss. He removed the police helmet and said quietly, “We have to talk.”

  Pax knew that a simple nod of The Boss’s head would cause a dozen weapons to cut him down, but, despite the danger, he stood calmly, watching the well-dressed man take in what had just occurred.

  The Boss’s face was blank—impassive—just like a Mexican drug lord’s face had to be in public. “What do you need to say to me?” he said in perfect, non-accented English.

  “Keith is NOT a cop,” Pax said emphatically. “That picture Los Lobos sent you proves that he is stupid, but it doesn’t prove that he is a cop.”

  The Boss’s mouth moved slightly. Pax thought he could see some tension leave his tightly pressed lips. He continued, “We use the cop bikes when necessary to get your high priority shipments through the real cops and the vigilante border patrols. Keith should never have let ANYONE take a picture of him dressed as a cop. He is very damned stupid to have done that, but he is NOT a cop.”

  Pax took a breath. “Have your men check the bike. From any distance, it looks like a real cop bike. We even have false numbers for it hacked into the police dispatch system, but if you look closer you can tell it’s a fake. Keith is not a cop.”

  The Boss made a quick hand motion and two men walked over to Pax’s bike. One of them said loudly, “That explains why I couldn’t ID him, Boss. The bike looks good. The numbers are valid—hell, I remember seeing that designator go by on the activity screens.”

  His hands moved over the bike as he continued to speak, “... but the mounts are wrong, and the switches for the lights aren’t right. The radio is also one of the older models we don’t use anymore. Fake bike... fake cop.”

  The two men then began walking back toward one of the SUVs. As they were getting into the vehicle, the other man said, “Fake bike, just like he said. And I’ve never seen either of them around the station. Fake cop, just like he said. You don’t need us anymore, so we’ll be getting back before we are missed for too long.”

  “Do you have a shipment or not?” asked Pax quietly.

  “You still taking it north?” replied the well-dressed man.

  “Not me,” answered Pax, pointing at Keith. “Him.”

  The Boss turned to one of the men waiting by the SUVs. “Wait ‘til I leave,” he ordered. “Then retrieve the shipment and give it to the stupid Gringo.” He and his bodyguards then walked to the second SUV and soon roared off into the desert.

  “We will talk when you get back,” Pax said to Keith. “Don’t do anything else stupid. And make sure the shipment gets delivered on time.” He then put his police jacket and helmet back on and began the ride back north. There were no lights or sirens on the return trip, so it was growing dark by the time he once again pulled into the parking lot of the clubhouse.

  When he climbed the back steps, Short John was sitting in a chair just outside the door to his apartment. “You could have waited inside,” Pax said.

  Short John replied with a bitter laugh, “Too much temptation, and too much talk even if I never did anything. Much better if I just stayed out here.”

  “You can go home now,” Pax said. The relief was obvious in his voice.

  “Is Keith okay? Are things cool with The Boss?”

  Pax merely nodded.

  “Is she really Theo’s daughter?”

  Pax blew out a deep breath. “Like I said, Short John, it’s complicated.”

  “It is more than complicated,” answered Short John. “If we end up at war with the Marauders, people are going to wonder whose side you’re on. And even if we aren’t at war, how do we convince the other Knights that she isn’t Theo’s spy?”

  “We aren’t at war yet,” answered Pax. He put his hand on Short John’s shoulder and laughed. “Maybe love will conquer war.”

  “And maybe you both will end up dead.” replied Short John with a shake of his head. As he turne
d to leave, he added, “See you in the morning... I hope.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Pax knocked on the door and said loudly, “Sammie, it’s me. I said I would come back to you.”

  Sammie opened the door. “Actually, you said that you love me and would come back to me.”

  “I will always love you,” Paxton answered as he rushed into the room and gathered Sammie into his arms. Their bodies pressed tightly against each other as they met. Their lips nibbled hungrily at each other’s cheeks as they moved through the apartment toward the bedroom. With frantic hands, they pulled at each other’s clothing until they were both standing naked next to the bed.

  They fell into the bed, rolling across sheets and covers until they stopped with Pax between Sammie’s legs. There was a frantic need to their lovemaking. It was as if they were rushing to give themselves to each other before they could be torn apart again, perhaps forever.

  Finally, after they were lying together spent and breathless, Sammie said through tears and sobs, “I was so afraid you were never coming back. In my mind, I could see you lying dead in the desert.”

  “There were times I wasn’t sure I was coming back,” Pax answered. “It could have gone either way. But it would have taken a lot more than a greasy Mexican druglord with delusions of grandeur to keep me from coming back to you.”

  “My love protected you,” she sighed. “My love brought you back to me.”

  “Something protected me.” answered Pax. “But the shit pit is getting deeper and deeper. Mr. Boss has evidently grown much more powerful lately. He has some serious connections in the state police. He had a couple of captains come down there to identify Keith. I recognized one of them. He probably already knew my name, but he didn’t recognize me—or at least he didn’t show it. It was their word that they had never seen either of us around the police station as much as me showing up on Long John’s bike that convinced El Jefe, or whatever the hell his name is, that we weren’t really cops.”

  Sammie stroked Pax’s face lightly as she said, “Now all we have to worry about is the fact that you are working for a very powerful drug lord who might decide to kill us all for no reason; some corrupt police captains now know how you smuggle drugs and could use that information to cut a deal if they get caught; Los Lobos want to go to war against the Knights because of something Long John did; my father probably wants you dead because you are sleeping with me; and now most of your friends know that I am the daughter of their biggest enemy.”

  “That about sums it up,” Pax said with a laugh. Then he ran his hands lightly over Sammie’s breast. “Our love will protect us,” he said. “And if our love is not enough for what tomorrow brings, at least it has brought us together for tonight.”

  Sammie arched her back as Pax’s hand brushed over her erect nipples. “Then we must make the best of tonight,” she breathed heavily. The white-hot, frantic need that had consumed them earlier was now gone, but a deep red glow of desire for each other still burned very warm within them. Sammie pulled Pax closer and ran her hands down the muscles of his back.

  He braced himself on one arm so that his other hand was free to roam her body, swirling around her nipples and then trailing down her front to find her throbbing clit. He softly stroked her swollen cunt as he lowered his mouth to one of her breasts. She cried out softly and arched to push her breast more firmly into his mouth. Her legs slid open to give him fuller access to her dripping sex.

  Sammie could soon feel an orgasm building within her. Pax could also feel it in the stiffness of her clit and in the way that she thrust herself against his hand. She was now moaning softly. When he moved his mouth from one breast to the other, she cried out and her moans became louder, taking on a keening quality. She tugged weakly at his waist, trying to pull him over to between her legs. When Pax instead increased the motion of his hand, she began to lose control and her arms thrashed wildly against the bed. She was now raising herself up off the bed, her cries a continuous loud “Aaaiii!” that was growing louder and shriller with each passing second.

  Finally, just as Sammie was about to reach the peak of passion, Pax slid over on top of her and aligned himself with her opening. He pushed himself forward and she reached down to guide him into her eagerly waiting cunt.

  Her orgasm began almost as soon as Pax entered her. Her head tossed back and forth against the bed as he slowly began moving within her. Her body slammed up to meet his thrusts as he increased tempo and force. She was now higher than she had ever before been. They were alone somewhere in the universe, floating through time and space. They were one, brought together in an explosion of sound and light. And then the sun went white-hot and the heat enveloped them both.

  Neither Sammie nor Pax was moving any more. They lay intertwined on the bed, trying to hold on to that moment of ecstasy and unity for as long as possible. Pax slowly relaxed against Sammie’s body. She continued to stroke his back as he lay upon her.

  Finally he said softly, “I’m crushing you,” and rolled over next to her. He lay on his back and pulled her onto his chest. His left arm enveloped her and pulled her close. She purred and snuggled into Pax’s safe and protective embrace. Together they fell asleep until the light of the morning sun awoke them.

  As they lay together in the bed, Pax played lightly with Sammie’s breasts and nipples. It was more play than foreplay. It wasn’t exactly sexual, but it could have been. His fingers traced the outline of the Marauder devil tattooed on her left breast.

  “I think I need your mark to protect me,” she said. It sounded almost more like a question than a statement.

  “The loyalty tats don’t work that way,” answered Pax flatly.

  “It does for The Hell’s Marauders and Los Lobos,” she answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Los Lobos and the Marauders are brother gangs... literally. The leader of the Lobos is my uncle, Carlos. Most of its members broke away from the Marauders and are related to them either north or south of the border. Many of them carry two tats. On the left is the red Marauder devil. On the right is the Lobos grey wolf. The grey circle around the devil’s head indicates that they have gone over to Los Lobos, but will not fight the Marauders. If the grey wolf is surrounded by a red circle, it indicates that they have come over from Lobos to Marauder. The agreement between the two gangs is that you can make that change once... and only once. Those who want more than the Marauders, go over to the Lobos. Those who want less than the Lobos, come over to the Marauders.”

  “So,” asked Pax, “if you get the K and lance on your right breast and put a white circle around the devil on your left breast, that would indicate that you have gone over to the Knights, but you will not fight your father or his followers.”

  “That’s what it would mean,” answered Sammie. “But I’m not sure any of the Knights will know what it means.” She paused to give a deep sigh, “... and I am even less sure that the Marauders will honor it.”

  “I will know what it means,” said Pax, drawing a small circle around the red devil on Sammie’s left breast. “It will mean that you love me very much, but that you still love your father.”

  Now it was Pax’s turn to give a deep sigh. “Hopefully a way can be found to avoid war between the Knights and the Lobos, especially since it sounds like war with the Lobos also means war with the Marauders.”

  “Make love to me one more time before I have to leave,” Sammie said as she pressed herself against Pax’s body. “Make love to me like it is our last chance to ever be together.”

  As Pax once again began stroking her body, he softly spoke the truth of their lives. “I love you, Sammie, and you love me, but every time we make love it may very well be our last chance to ever be together.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sammie Johnson snuggled closer to Pax’s side as the two lied together in his bed. The morning sun was just beginning to come through the windows, waking her. For some reason she had always been an “up with the sun” type
of girl. No matter how late into the night she went, the first light of day would wake her. Her morning cheerfulness was the bane of the classmates in eight o’clock classes at the university.

  In her apartment downtown, she was usually able to sleep in a while longer. The windows of her apartment were on the back side of the building and faced another, much taller building across a narrow alleyway. There was very little direct sun in the alleyway to come through her windows and the small amount of light that did spill in was often held back by curtains and a thick shade.