Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Prologue
Chapter 1
Published 2018 by Trish Haill Associates
Copyright © 2018 by Manda Mellett
Edited by Brian Tedesco (pubsolvers.com)
Book and Cover Design by Lia Rees at Free Your Words
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.mandamellett.com
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Warning
This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual, abusive and violent nature. It is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.
ISBN: 978-1-912288-08-3
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Author’s Note
Glossary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Teaser: Rock Bottom
Teaser: Hard Choices
Second Chances: Prologue
Second Chances: Chapter 1
Other Works by Manda Mellett
Stay In Touch
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Author’s Note
Peg’s Stand is the sixth in the Satan’s Devils MC series, but can be read as a standalone.
If you’re new to MC books you may find there are terms that you haven’t heard before, so I’ve included a glossary to help along the way. I hope you get drawn into this mysterious and dark world in the same way I have done―there will be further books in the Satan’s Devils series which I hope you’ll want to follow.
If you’ve picked this book up because, like me, you read anything MC, I hope you’ll enjoy it for what it is, a fictional insight into the underground culture of alpha men and their bikes.
Glossary
Motorcycle Club – An official motorcycle club in the U.S. is one which is sanctioned by the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA). The AMA has a set of rules its members must abide by. It is said that ninety-nine percent of motorcyclists in America belong to the AMA
Outlaw Motorcycle Club (MC) – The remaining one percent of motorcycling clubs are historically considered outlaws as they do not wish to be constrained by the rules of the AMA and have their own bylaws. There is no one formula followed by such clubs, but some not only reject the rulings of the AMA, but also that of society, forming tightly knit groups who fiercely protect their chosen ways of life. Outlaw MCs have a reputation for having a criminal element and supporting themselves by less than legal activities, dealing in drugs, gun running or prostitution. The one-percenter clubs are usually run under a strict hierarchy.
Brother – Typically members of the MC refer to themselves as brothers and regard the closely knit MC as their family.
Cage – The name bikers give to cars as they prefer riding their bikes.
Chapter – Some MCs have only one club based in one location. Other MCs have a number of clubs who follow the same bylaws and wear the same patch. Each club is known as a chapter and will normally carry the name of the area where they are based on their patch.
Church – Traditionally the name of the meeting where club business is discussed, either with all members present or with just those holding officer status.
Colours – When a member is wearing (or flying) his colours he will be wearing his cut proudly displaying his patch showing which club he is affiliated with.
Cut – The name given to the jacket or vest which has patches denoting the club that member belongs to.
Enforcer – The member who enforces the rules of the club.
Hang-around – This can apply to men wishing to join the club and who hang-around hoping to be become prospects. It is also used to women who are attracted by bikers and who are happy to make themselves available for sex at biker parties.
Mother Chapter – The founding chapter when a club has more than one chapter.
Patch – The patch or patches on a cut will show the club that member belongs to and other information such as the particular chapter and any role that may be held in the club. There can be a number of other patches with various meanings, including a one-percenter patch. Prospects will not be allowed to wear the club patch until they have been patched-in, instead they will have patches which denote their probationary status.
Patched-in/Patching-in – The term used when a prospect completes his probationary status and becomes a full club member.
President (Prez) – The officer in charge of that particular club or chapter.
Prospect – Anyone wishing to join a club must serve time as a probationer. During this period they have to prove their loyalty to the club. A probationary period can last a year or more. At the end of this period, if they’ve proved themselves a prospect will be patched-in.
Old Lady – The term given to a woman who enters into a permanent relationship with a biker.
RICO – The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organisations Act primarily deals with organised crime. Under this Act the officers of a club could be held responsible for activities they order members to do and a conviction carries a potential jail service of twenty years as
well as a large fine and the seizure of assets.
Road Captain – The road captain is responsible for the safety of the club on a run. He will organise routes and normally ride at the end of the column.
Ronin – A biker who travels alone, sometimes wearing a patch denoting he’s Ronin. Not affiliated to any club, but often bearing a token which will help ensure safe passage through territories of different clubs.
Secretary – MCs are run like businesses and this officer will perform the secretarial duties such as recording decisions at meetings.
Sergeant-at-Arms – The sergeant-at-arms is responsible for the safety of the club as a whole and for keeping order.
Sweet Butt – A woman who makes her sexual services available to any member at any time. She may well live on the club premises and be fully supported by the club.
Treasurer – The officer responsible for keeping an eye on the club’s money.
Vice President (VP) – The vice president will support the president, stepping into his role in his absence. He may be responsible for making sure the club runs smoothly, overseeing prospects etc.
Chapter 1
Peg
As her hands toy with her drink, Lorelei gives me sly glances through her eyelashes while pretending to examine her glass on the table. A glass full of Californication. A concoction of vodka, gin, white rum and tequila topped up with lemon and orange juice, the bartender had explained merrily as he made it after I, feeling awkward and out of place, had blundered through my request for the cocktail. I hadn’t missed his smirk at me, a hardened biker being forced to ask for such a girly drink with the suggestive sounding name.
Lorelei might be sneaking looks at me, but I’m subjecting her to equal scrutiny. Being here tonight is scarcely different from being on a blind date, neither of us knowing much about each other, our first time meeting in the flesh.
The Satan’s Devils clubhouse is rapidly changing, brothers finding old ladies, fuck, having babies as well. We’ve even got a room set up as a fucking nursery. Has it made them go soft? Nah, I see even more of an edge around my brothers who’ve gone from having a different woman in their bed every night to taking that special one to be a permanent fixture in their life. Their desire to keep the women they love safe sharpening them, giving them new balance. A new focus, and a new meaning to the word protection.
It's not been difficult for them to remain faithful to their old ladies. Once each of them found their soulmate, that seems to be it for them and, watching from the side lines, I’ve no doubt their relationships will last forever. Over the years I’d gotten used to Bullet and Viper being married, but lately the status quo has been turned upside down with Wraith, Drummer, Slick, and Dart in quick succession finding their mates. And even Heart has managed to find happiness for a second time.
My single brothers still don’t understand what makes a man want to settle down, each vowing there’s more fun to be had making use of readily available sweet butts or the hangarounds who come to our parties, or, for that matter, any female who catches their eye. Me? All I’ve ever wanted was to find that one woman I could love, who’d give me a place to come home to and reason to live. I’ve watched with envy as my brothers have settled down.
That’s what I want, an old lady and, hopefully, a couple of kids. Now that would make my life complete.
I thought I had it once, but it was an illusion. Sure, being burnt has made me cautious, but since then nothing resembling anything like the right woman has crossed my path. Which brings me to tonight, the result of an impulse to join the twenty-first century and try online dating.
I’ve not lied to her, she knows exactly who and what I am. We’d spent weeks communicating via instant messaging. Complete disclosure on my part at least, well, as far as I could without discussing club business. I hoped that it had been on hers. I’d been amped up to meet her tonight, neatening my beard, and even, with hopes but no expectation, grooming my man garden. I’m wearing aftershave, something I don’t normally bother to do, and under my cut is a crisp white button-up shirt.
She’s pretty enough but looks aren’t as important as they were when I was younger. She’s wearing a nice dress which outlines her curves, ample breasts, slightly rounded stomach, and hips I could hold onto as I fuck her from behind. Her body is topped by a pleasant enough face, sufficient to interest me.
I’m thirty-seven years old, and time’s getting on. Perhaps the reason I’m still alone is that I’ve been too fussy, so rather than allowing her thin lips or slightly overly large nose to put me off, I try and concentrate on the woman underneath, listening to what she says, hoping that nothing she’s telling me is a lie.
She’s told me about her family. I don’t have much to reciprocate, there’s nothing to tell about mine. Fuck knows who they are. I ask about her job, her likes and dislikes, and so far, so good, in many of the important ways we seem to be compatible.
“Like another?” I offer, though I hope she says no. I don’t like my women drunk. Any offer she might make has to be put forward sober. I won’t take advantage unless it’s with full and conscious consent.
“No.” A quick smile, then, “I’ve had enough, thank you.” Another point in her favour.
A glance at my phone shows me it’s time to bring this evening to an end. I finish my beer, then stand up. “I’ll settle the tab, then take you home.”
A nod, another quick smile. As I go to the bar I turn to confirm the burning sensation I feel on my back is indeed, as I suspected, her eyes staring at me. I wink, she blushes, but before she turns away I’ve seen a spark flare in her eyes.
I’m not too bothered how this night is going to end, in her bed or with just a kiss on the doorstep while we arrange another date. Slow burn, that’s the best way. A chance to really get to know each other before we commit. I can be patient. It’s been months since I last went with a woman. I avoid the sweet butts in the club, not having much inclination to indulge in meaningless sex just because it’s on offer. I want the act to mean something, and to be with a woman who’s all mine, not one who’s been used by everyone else.
At my age, I know I won’t find a virgin, or probably even a woman who hasn’t had a committed relationship before. I’m not looking for perfection, just someone who’s perfect for me. I know she’ll probably have baggage, like Lorelei, who’s divorced. I wouldn’t even mind if she had a kid.
What I won’t compromise on is that spark which must be between us, both in and out of bed. I want to be the man she respects and looks up to. I want her to be my strength, my reason to get up every morning. I want to be her best friend, and her mine. Paying the tab, I turn back to the table, a little uncertain. Tonight’s not yet shown whether Lorelei can be any of that for me. Yeah, take this slowly. That would be best.
I hold out my hand and help her out of her chair, then walk her to the door of the restaurant, my hand to the small of her back. I frown at a man who’s blocking our way, and that’s all it takes before he steps aside with a murmured apology. At my truck I take her around to the passenger side and open her door, helping her step up, then find and pass her the seat belt. Once she’s settled comfortably I go around to the driver’s side, slipping out of my cut as I do so, not wanting to collect a fine for wearing it in a cage.
I’d picked her up from a location where she’d asked to be met, a friend’s house I assume. Now she gives me directions back to her home. A frown plays at my lips, wondering whether I should warn her. She still knows virtually nothing about me. I could have been lying, leading her on, my nefarious purpose to harm her or rob her. Any caution goes unuttered. I’m a man and she’s an attractive woman. I keep my mouth shut.
When we arrive, I tell her to stay put until I can help her down. I slide back into my cut, then once she’s steady on the ground, hold her hand and walk her to the front door with every expectation she’ll turn and wish me a good night. Then I’ll leave, possibly after having made arrangements to see each other again.
Instead, she fumbles in her purse, extracts a key, and puts it in the lock. As she opens the door, she says over her shoulder, “Are you coming in?”
I inhale sharply. “If you’re sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Is she asking me for a drink, or a coffee, or something more? Not wanting to get my hopes up, even though my cock starts to swell—well it has been months since it saw anything other than my hand—I nod as nonchalantly as I can, and step over the threshold.
Once inside, she shrugs off her light jacket, worn more for fashion than for any actual need—it is late spring after all—then turns to look at me.
“I’ve wanted to say this all evening,” she starts in a husky voice. “Thank you for your service.”
As her hand comes out to land on my chest, I control the urge to flinch. It’s not her touch, it’s her words. I didn’t put my life on the line with any virtuous thought of serving my country. It started as an offered alternative for prison, for some minor infraction which they went down on me hard being as I was already in the biker life. Believing I was simply swapping one set of brothers for another, I took the escape route and had no regrets. Sure, sometimes it was hard, the conditions rough and demanding, but what young man doesn’t like playing with guns and a real-life version of shoot ‘em all up? That there was a possibility of dying never crossed my mind, a young man’s arrogance that nothing could harm him guiding me. A belief that my team could take on anything and survive.
Until we didn’t. I lost friends and received a medical discharge. Had I not, I’d have done a few more tours. I was enjoying myself, simply exchanging one desert for another, one set of rules for a not so different way of life.
No civilian should thank me. I didn’t do it for them, and, well, the way that it ended, for my friends that weren’t as lucky as me, insincere words so easily uttered aren’t nearly enough.
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