Crimson: Satan's Savages MC Book One

by M. L. Beeson

  Crimson

  Satan’s Savages Book 1

  ML Beeson

  Trigger Warning

  This book is intended for mature audiences and not recommended for anyone under the age of eighteen. This book displays explicit language, scenes of sexual assault, and extreme violence.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.

  Copyright © by ML Beeson

  All rights reserved.

  First print edition: December 2019

  No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission except for the use of a brief quote in a book review. Please respect the hard work of the author.

  Cover Designer: Clarise Tan

  Logo Design: JS Design Works, LLC

  Model: Chris Fleming

  Cover Photographer: Alex Filion

  Editor: Love Books Editing

  I would love to thank everyone who ultimately pushed me to get out of my comfort zone and put my thoughts and creativity out there for others to enjoy.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  BLADE

  The man in front of me lets out an ear-aching scream as I approach him with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. I tune the screams out as I watch the man fight against his restraints. He is strapped down to the stainless-steel table in nothing except a pair of boxer briefs. Watching as the beads of sweat run down his forehead and on to the table has kept me intrigued.

  Hearing the man speak, finally breaks me from my trance. “Please, I will do anything you ask. Just let me go,” he begs in an almost non-existent voice.

  “Well the thing is Ricky, I let you hang around my club. Thought even crossed my mind to bring it to a vote about letting you prospect for us, then you had to go and betray me; betray this club!” I grit.

  Not wasting any time, I grip the man’s mouth to hold it open. Reaching inside with the pliers, I grab ahold of the lower-right second molar, and rip it from his gums. Releasing the hold on the pliers, I discard the tooth and let it bounce across the floor. Looking back up, Ricky is gargling blood as the realization of what just happened processes through his tiny ass brain.

  Tossing the needle-nosed pliers on the table next to his head, I lean down to get in his face. “Why would you take it upon yourself to chase after an underage girl? Let alone attack her?”

  Not being able to hear his answer, I stand to my full height and throw a punch backed with my body weight. Ricky’s head jolts to the left and I watch as blood flows from his mouth, freeing him from choking. I need answers.

  “Did you not hear me, Ricky?” I bark at the incapacitated man.

  “I’m sorry—”

  I don’t let him finish. I don’t want to hear that shit. “Not what I want to hear, Ricky,” I tsk, as I shake my head back and forth.

  “I didn’t know her age, I swear!” He tries to yell through labored breathing.

  “She was fourteen Ricky. How could you not know how old she is? She is a child!” I scream in the man’s face.

  I keep a tight ship within my club. We have a code we live by and in no way do we fuck around with underage girls, let alone one of our brother’s family.

  “You see, Courtney—the little girl you attacked—is Rage’s little cousin. She was here visiting. She didn’t come here to get fucked. She isn’t a club whore!” I don’t try to hold in my rage as I punctuate every word.

  “Aw, I can see things finally clicking in that fucked up mind of yours.” I cluck my tongue as I walk around the table and fish the hunting knife from my boot.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was a relative!” He desperately tries to scream back at me.

  “So you’re not going to say anything about the fact that she was severely under age?” I raise an eyebrow.

  Looking down just in time to see his eyebrows furrow, I know that he has no remorse about going after an underage girl, he is a damn pedophile. Fuck!

  “You know I don’t tolerate that shit, now I am going to finish things while Rage takes care of his cousin. Bandaging her up and all, since you attacked her. Thanks to one of the prospects, you didn’t get the deed done.” I place the blade to his throat. “As for him, he will more than likely get a patch, and you my friend will be scattered around the valley in pieces. Do you have any last words?”

  Shaking his head back and forth as tears and sweat stream together, oozing their way from his body, he doesn’t say anything else. I move my blade down to his chest and carve the word pedophile into his flesh. By the time I am finished with the last letter, Ricky is screaming a high-pitched scream that matches that of a woman in distress.

  Getting annoyed of his screams, I am quick to move my blade. I only see a flash of silver as I slit the man’s throat. Seeing red poor from his neck, I stand and watch as the fluid rushes from his body until his breathing finally stops. He is dead, thank fuck.

  I clean my knife by wiping each side of the blade on the man’s thigh, using what little material he had on to rid the blood. Huffing out a deep breath, I move to the sink and finish cleaning my blade with soap and water then a quick wipe-down with a rag that is saturated in bleach.

  Looking in the direction of the steel door that is squeaking open, I see Rage walk in. “How’s Courtney?”

  “Fine, a little rattled. I have never been so thankful for a prospect. We should hold a vote for Marcus to be patched in after the shit he just prevented,” he huffs while rubbing the back of his head.

  “Yeah brother, I got you. I will throw around the idea.”

  “Thank you for taking care of that sick fuck.” I know he would have much rather done shit himself, but his cousin needed him more, so I took the task. Not that I am complaining.

  “No problem. You don’t fuck with family. Especially our family,” I say, walking over giving him a brotherly hug.

  This is why we are respected by many and feared by even more. We lead the club with an iron fist, and punish with a force that Satan himself can’t reckon with. That’s why we are Satan’s Savages.

  CHAPTER ONE

  GINGER

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The annoying sound of my retro alarm clock brings me out of my slumber and brings reality crashing down upon me.

  Fuck! I am still in my two-bedroom, one bathroom, apartment that I dream so often of burning to the ground. From the constant leaks of every faucet, to the screaming children next door, I cannot wait to leave this hellhole; but as of now it is the only place that I can call my own.

  As I am divulging in my own self-pity, I roll over to check the time. “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” It’s all I can manage to get out of my panicked stuck vocal cords. It is eight forty-five and I am goin
g to be late again. This time I can almost bet my ass it’ll land me in the unemployment line; my boss is an anal son-of-a-bitch whose bad side I am already on and keep apparently ‘testing’ his will to not fire me. Who knew you could fuck up a job at a damn convenient store of all places? Well, the answer would be me. I can seem to screw up anything around me.

  After the quickest shower of my life, I manage to tame my ashy-brown curls with a quick run through of a comb and a touch of finishing spray. I brush my pearly whites, and dress in my required work shirt and I am off to start my day. As I set out on my mile and a half walk to work, the dread starts to set in.

  God, I cannot wait for this day to be over already. It sure is pathetic what life throws at you sometimes. I didn’t have the ability to attend college, I left home at the age of seventeen and have been on my own since. So here I am, a twenty-three-year-old high school dropout working at the shittiest gas station in the most dangerous part of Gem County, Idaho.

  When I arrive at the Minuteman Convenient Store, I am blessed with the smell of nasty hotdogs that have been on the roaster for hours upon hours and the stale stench of the lingering coffee and sweat from the early morning rush of factory workers making the trip to and from work during shift change. I quickly walk through the side door and into the office to clock in.

  I log in on the computer to start my shift and, start to take my jacket off when Lyle, my fat, bald, jackass of a boss walks in and snickers that I am late again.

  “I’m sorry Lyle, I am saving up to buy a car to get here faster—”

  “You know Ginger, you are walking on a thin line. You are always late and can never seem to dress appropriately.” He slides his eyes from mine, following my body down to my feet and making zero effort to hide the fact that he was checking me out.

  I wasn’t wearing the slacks that are expected to be worn with my polo shirt, instead I had on an old pair of jeans that had seen better days. They had holes in the knees and were faded into a light blue.

  “I’m sorry Lyle, my slacks were dirty, I figured I was better off wearing jeans than wearing my pants that smelled like old meat and mustard from cleaning the hotdog and burger bar last night.” I try to lighten the mood, knowing I am walking a fiery path, and I am doing my best to tread lightly.

  “You know, I could fire you, or I could give you another option to make it up to me.” I gulped at Lyle’s statement. Great, I was going to have to hand clean the trash cans again or something even more disgusting. Lyle took a step towards me and brought his face inches from mine as he starts to trace a line down my chest, his hand sliding into the opening of my polo shirt towards my cleavage.

  “What are you doing? I am not going to let you grope me, because I was late for work.”

  “Well then maybe you could show me why you have holes in the knees of your jeans. Is it because you spend so much time on them? I bet your pouty and beautifully plump lips look great wrapped around a cock, and just drive all the men crazy,” he drawled out.

  “You’re a sick pervert, do not touch me—” I was stunned before I could get the rest of my sentence out as the force of Lyle’s backhand sent me flying towards his metal desk.

  I was able to catch myself before I fell to the ground but, I could feel my cheek radiating in heat and the trickle of wetness coming from the corner of my lip. By its texture and metallic taste, I could already tell it was blood.

  Before I could comprehend what was happening, Lyle grabbed me by the nape of the neck and forced me face-first into the brick wall.

  “You little cunt. You walk in here thinking you can get away with whatever you want because you have a tight ass and perky tits? Well news flash, you can’t and I am going to show you what happens to girls who need discipline in life,” he growled as he unbuckled his belt.

  Hearing the clink of the belt unhinging, has my mind and body in a frenzy. I can feel the sweat sheathing my body and the beads running down my forehead to my temple; I am overcome by complete and utter fear.

  The pressure of his forearm against my back caused me to still while he ripped and tore at the brittle and tattered material that made up my jeans, exposing my flesh. Feeling the cool air against my bare ass, has me thrashing around trying to get out of his grasp, which only made his hold even stronger. Using his body weight to his advantage, I could hear his zipper sliding down. As my mind tries to process what was happening, I would hear each link coming undone, almost as if my life were in slow-motion.

  With my mind in overdrive, I drove my heel into the top of his foot as hard as I could making him curse out in pain. I turn and sprint towards the door only to have his hand reach out from where he lay and grasp my ankle, pulling me to the ground. While be pulled back into the office from the doorway, I scream as loud as I could, as if it were my last breath.

  How naïve of me to think someone would help me. We are in the most dangerous part of town and this type of thing is an everyday occurrence, no one is going to get involved or come to my rescue.

  Kicking and screaming with all the fight I had in me, Lyle tries his best to subdue me by shoving a nasty, cleaner-soaked hand towel in my mouth. He held my hands behind my back and used the force of his body weight to immobilize me. Which was a fuck ton. Hot tears stream down my face as the reality of my situation set in. I was going to be raped. The one day I forgot to bring my knife with me, and I actually need the fucker. Damn it!

  Forced face down on the linoleum floor, I could not see what was happening but I could feel Lyle’s erection graze my leg, as he starts to position himself on top of me. I clench my eyes shut and bite down on the rag as hard as I could, trying to mentally block out what was about to occur.

  In an instant, I feel all the pressure of Lyle’s fat ass leave my body. I hear a slur of cuss words and Lyle’s pathetic sobs.

  When I finally have the courage to open my eyes, I take in a massive man covered in tattoos and wearing a leather vest standing over Lyle’s limp body. This man is like none I have ever seen before, more muscle than men should be allowed to have, most of his head shaved, and tattoos he wore like a badge of honor.

  The man finally turned to me and when our eyes met, my breath caught in my lungs literally stopping me from breathing momentarily. The pounding of my heartbeat, the only thing I could hear. He was absolutely intimidating and reeked of strength and power. It was stunning.

  BLADE

  It was a little after 9 a.m. when I was woken up to a loud crash in the bathroom. I jump out of my bed, grabbing my 9mm pistol off the night stand and rush in to see what is happening. When I open the door, I find Shay on the ground grabbing her ankle.

  “What the fuck Shay? I almost blew your fucking head off! What are you doing in here?” I growl out.

  “I fell asleep and when I woke, I came in to get cleaned up but the heel of my stiletto broke.”

  Fucking bitches. She knows the rules. Club whores are not allowed to stay in my room. They are to service me and then get the fuck out. But Shay seems to think she gets special treatment because she is the only club whore, I can even find appealing these days.

  “You know the rules Shay just because I fucked you does not mean you get to stay. You fuck and get the fuck out!” I barked as I picked her ass up and walked her out to the hallway.

  “Now stay the fuck out of my room unless we are actively fucking.” I slam my door shut nearly breaking the damn thing off its hinges.

  When will this bitch learn? I should have known she would get attached and shit.

  Being the president of the Satan’s Savages isn’t easy when it comes to the ladies. Yeah, I get a lot of easy pussy, but they think just because I fucked them that I will make them my old lady. Newsflash, I will never make one of these skanks my old lady. I am not even in the market of looking for one.

  My aggravation grew as did my urge to hit something. I need a damn cigarette. I throw on my jeans from the previous day, reach into the pocket to find the pack of smokes completely empty. Shit! Fucking g
reat!

  I work my way through the clubhouse and stumble into the bar to find it littered with bodies. It sure was a hell of a party last night. I have to push through a sea of naked men and women that are passed out taking up nearly every inch of the bar floor and furniture. It must have been a damn orgy after I left to fuck Shay.

  I finally make it through the bar and out the front door and make my way to my only true love; a matte black Harley with ghost skulls painted on the gas tank. You can’t see the skulls unless the sun hits it just right. Damn. This bike is one sexy bitch. Our club painter Rex just finished it and outdid himself with the design.

  I grab my ape hanger handlebars, throttle up, and pull out of the parking lot to ride down the road for a pack of smokes before I lose my literal and metaphorical shit on someone. The place is dead. Thank fuck.

  I pull the handle to the door of the Minuteman open and walk in to the sound of screaming and objects crashing to the floor. What the fuck? The sound is coming from the back of the store. I make my way down the small hallway and come to the office and see a young woman struggling to get away from Lyle, the fat fuck manager.

  I see red as I step fully into the office and notice the woman’s pants are torn and her ass is hanging out. She is forcefully laying belly down with a rag hanging halfway out of her mouth and Lyle is positioning himself between her legs. This motherfucker is going to take her against her will.