Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)

by Harley Wylde

  When I’d been on the road for hours, my stomach began to cramp from hunger and my car was almost on empty. I pulled into a small town somewhere in North Florida. After filling my tank, I left the car parked at the gas station and walked across the street to a diner. But what I saw when I stepped through the doors froze me in my tracks. My face was plastered across the TV with a ticker running underneath. Ridley Johnson is reported as being unstable. If seen, contact the police immediately.

  I tried to pull my hair forward as much as possible to hide my face and claimed a spot at the back of the diner, where the lighting wasn’t so great. My hands fumbled with my purse, and I quietly counted what was left of my cash. I’d seen enough crime shows to know my credit cards could be traced, so I’d paid cash at the gas station and I’d pay cash for my meal. An older waitress came over, looking dead on her feet.

  “What can I get you, doll?”

  “A burger and fries with a sweet tea.”

  She nodded and scribbled my order down, not even looking at my face once. As she moved away to place my order with the kitchen, some of the tension eased from my shoulders. The place was nearly empty, but I had a close call when a sheriff’s deputy stepped inside. I sat frozen, scared to even breathe, until he picked up his to-go order and went back out to his cruiser.

  My meal arrived a few minutes later, and I ate quickly, leaving enough money on the table to cover the bill and a tip. Gathering my purse, I headed back to my car, every nerve in my body on alert for any kind of trouble. I hit the road again and didn’t stop until I’d cleared the panhandle. The town was shabby, the sidewalks cracked, and the buildings crumbling. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was time to change. I stopped to top off my tank at a gas station that was well lit, just in case I got stuck with the car a while longer, and grabbed my backpack from the trunk. In case my family had gotten nosy, I’d hidden it in the spare tire compartment, which meant if I had a flat I was shit out of luck because both the tire and my bag and boots hadn’t fit.

  After filling up the car, I stepped into the grimy bathroom and stripped out of my dress and heels. I washed my face in the sink with the harsh soap provided in the dispenser and blotted it dry with the stiffest damn paper towels I’d ever touched. Pulling an elastic from my bag, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, the long curling mass falling down the center of my back. After I had shimmied into a pair of tight, ripped jeans and put on a black tee with teal swirls and white skulls across the front, I slipped on some socks and the biker boots I’d picked up at a Harley Davidson store.

  A smile flashed across my face as I studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Aside from the golden curls, I didn’t even look like Ridley Johnson anymore. At least, not the Ridley Johnson Mom had molded me to be. I hated that girl and never wanted to be her again. I stuffed my dress and heels in the trash, picked up my bag, and went back out to my car. The guy behind the counter didn’t even look up from his magazine.

  Now I just had one more problem. The damn car. There was no way my stepdad had put out that bulletin on me without also telling the cops what I was driving. It was a fucking miracle no one had pulled me over yet. I knew what I was about to do was risky as hell, but so was driving around in this damn Mercedes for another minute.

  I’d hung around my dad long enough to know what I was searching for. Our visits might have been few, but he’d always made them count. Mom thought we were taking drives to the park or the beach, but he’d been teaching me about his way of life, and introducing me to some people she wouldn’t have approved of.

  I pulled up to a garage on a darkened street corner. A light inside told me someone was around, even if the place wasn’t officially open. My palms were sweating again but I blew out a breath and braced myself. It was time to put the socialite behind me and be every inch my father’s daughter. I pulled the keys from the ignition and boldly walked inside.

  “You can’t be here, bitch,” a voice said harshly from deep inside.

  “I need to make a trade,” I said.

  A man with a leather cut strolled out of the garage, the lighting just good enough that I could read Devil’s Boneyard MC -- V.P. -- Scratch.

  I had no fucking clue if it was a rival club of Dixie Reapers or not and knew I needed to tread carefully. We studied one another, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. Not in an I want to fuck her kind of way, more like he was assessing if I was a threat.

  “I have a problem,” I said. “I have a hot car and need someone to take it off my hands. All I need in return is something that will run well enough for me to get a few states away.”

  Scratch rubbed his jaw and looked beyond me to the silver Mercedes.

  “If you change out the VIN or strip it for parts, you can make a decent amount off it,” I said. “I don’t care what piece of shit you give me in return as long as it gets me where I’m going. I need reliable, not flashy.”

  He took in my appearance again. “You know how to ride?”

  His question momentarily startled me. “Ride?”

  He tipped his head and sauntered back inside the garage. Against my better judgment, I followed. There was an older motorcycle sitting off to the side. The pewter gray tank and fenders had seen better days, but as I circled the bike I saw that it was in pretty decent condition. The Harley emblem, though tarnished, was a welcome surprise. I wasn’t a bike expert by any means, even though Dad had tried, but I thought it was a Harley Soft Tail, which meant it would be light enough for a woman like me to handle. Unlike the big monster my dad rode.

  “How well does it run?” I asked.

  Scratch walked over to a wall and pulled down a key, tossing it to me. I snatched it midair and straddled the bike. The key turned in the ignition easily enough and I twisted the throttle. The engine rumbled, and a smile spread across my face. God, I’d fucking missed that sound. The thrum of the bike between my legs made me feel like I was coming home. Dad had taught me to ride when I was fourteen, and he’d rented a bike for me every time he’d visited after that, even if I hadn’t been exactly been legal to drive the first few years.

  “Even trade?” I asked.

  The gaze Scratch gave me said he saw more than I liked, but he nodded.

  “I just need to get my stuff from the Mercedes. It’s unlocked,” I said, handing him the car keys.

  When I returned with my backpack strapped to me, my purse stuffed inside, he held out some papers to me. I glanced at them and saw it was everything I’d need to make the bike legal when I got to where I was going.

  “I don’t know who you belong to, baby girl, or what you’re running from, but you don’t fucking stop until you reach your man.”

  “You know who I am,” I said softly.

  “Picture’s been all over the news tonight, statewide from what I hear. You don’t appear all that unstable to me, but that family you’re leaving… they’re bad news. Richard Benton III is not a nice man.”

  “You know my stepdad?” I asked without thinking.

  “Know of him. My crew won’t have anything to do with the shit he’s mixed up in.”

  I straddled the bike again and nodded.

  “Who taught you to ride? Socialites like you don’t know shit about bikes.”

  “I’m not a socialite. I’m a biker’s daughter.” And that was as much as I was going to tell him.

  “You better run to Daddy, then, girl, because you have no idea the kind of trouble that’s following you. I’ll make that car of yours disappear. You been using credit cards?” Scratch asked.

  “No. Cash only. I’m running low, but I think I can make it where I’m going.”

  “What about a phone?”

  I hesitated. “Yeah, I have my cell phone.”

  Scratch held out his hand. “Trust me, baby girl. You don’t want to keep that phone on you. Especially if Richard Benton III paid for it. They’ll find you in no time.”

  Unease filled me, and I wondered if my stepdad had been tracking me all this time. Were
the cops just moments away from coming to get me? I swung my backpack in front of me and unzipped it, removing my phone from my purse. I gave it to Scratch, and he pulled out the SIM card and battery before stomping the shit out of my phone and busting it to pieces.

  “Get going, girl, and like I said, don’t fucking stop.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly. Revving the engine of the old Harley, I eased out of the garage and took off down the street. It wasn’t long before I was flying on the highway and crossing the Alabama state line.

  By the time I’d reached the Dixie Reapers compound, I ached from head to toe and felt near to collapsing. I’d been on the road for about ten hours, and the sky was already starting to lighten. My bike came to a stop outside the gates, and a Prospect sauntered forward.

  “You lost, sweet thing?” he asked, flashing crooked teeth through the beginnings of a beard.

  “Get Bull.”

  The man rocked back on his heels. “Bull’s busy.”

  “He’s not too busy to see me.”

  “Sure.” He chuckled. “The man’s balls deep in pussy, but I’m sure he’ll just run right out here to see you.”

  I turned off the engine on the bike, swung my leg over the seat, and stalked forward, poking the asshole in the chest and giving him the fiercest look I could muster. My shoulders were thrown back, and I hoped I looked more intimidating than I was. “Look here, you piece of shit. You get Bull, and you fucking get him now.”

  The man grabbed my hand and twisted so that I went down on my knee, my arm behind me at an odd angle.

  “I don’t care who the fuck you think you are, bitch. You don’t fucking touch me unless you’re going to wrap your lips around my cock.”

  Booted steps drew near. “Is there a problem, Pete?”

  “Just some fucking whore who insists on seeing Bull,” the man said, twisting my arm a little more and making me cry out. “Fucking poked my chest and bowed up at me like she’s fucking someone.”

  The man in the shadows chuckled. “Is that so?”

  The boots came closer, and a dark head of hair appeared. The eyes that fastened on mine nearly took my breath away. I’d recognize those green eyes anywhere.

  “Venom,” I said softly.

  His gaze narrowed. “Just who the fuck are you, sweetheart? Because I sure as hell don’t remember you.”

  “I’m Ridley Johnson,” I said, my voice almost a whisper as dots swam in front of my vision. If the Prospect turned my arm any more, it would break.

  Surprise flashed in Venom’s eyes, and he shot up to his full height. The crack of a fist filled the silence, and I was suddenly released. As I tumbled the rest of the way to the ground, strong arms wrapped around me.

  “I’ve got you, baby girl,” Venom murmured. “No one’s going to fucking touch you again.”

  Venom lifted me into his arms, and I held on tight.

  “Roll that bike up to the clubhouse,” he barked at the Prospect.

  “Who the hell is she?” the Prospect asked, his eyes burning with hate in the near darkness.

  “Bull’s daughter.”

  The Prospect’s eyes widened, and he had that I’m so fucked look on his face.

  The clubhouse was noisy, the air thick with smoke. Venom strode through the crowd, everyone looking at me in curiosity. He carried me down the hall and stopped at a door with his name on it. Somehow juggling me, he managed to pull out some keys from his pocket and unlocked it before stepping inside and kicking the door shut.

  Venom eased me down onto a chair beside the bed and hunkered down in front of me. His gaze scanned my face and the rest of me, fury brewing in his gorgeous eyes when he saw the red marks on my arm from the Prospect.

  “You wait here. I’m going to go get your daddy.”

  Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room. As I slumped in the chair, I wondered if I’d made the right choice. I hadn’t seen my daddy in so damn long. What if he wasn’t happy to see me?

  Chapter Two

  Venom

  I didn’t know what the fuck had brought Ridley to the compound after all this time, but I figured it couldn’t be good. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to think about how goddamn perfect she’d felt in my arms. Gone was the adorable cherub who had skipped around the clubhouse on family days. In her place was a stunning woman with curves in all the right places and legs for miles. Shit, even if my brother weren’t her daddy, I was too damn old for someone like her. My dick wasn’t getting the message.

  I pressed my hand against my zipper hoping like I hell I didn’t have a noticeable erection when I knocked on Bull’s door. If he thought for one second I was lusting after his baby girl, he’d cut off my balls. My dick had hardened nearly to the point of pain just from holding her. The scent of the wind clinging to her, and something softer under that, had nearly made me do something stupid. Like throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to my house for a proper fucking. I could only imagine how damn hard I’d be if I ever had her naked. I’d lusted after women plenty of times, but I’d sure as fuck never felt like this. My inner caveman wanted me to roar that she was mine, fill her so full of my cum that everyone would damn well know it.

  What the fuck? Get it together.

  I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I’d never felt like this before and sure as hell shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Ridley-fucking-Johnson. The girl was young enough to be my daughter, but fuck if there was a single fatherly thought in my head when it came to her. One look in her eyes when that dumb shit Prospect had her on the ground, and I’d been a goner. I’d wanted to rip the fucker’s arms off for hurting her. Those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to look right through me could bring me to my knees.

  My dick pulsed in my pants as I thought about spreading her across my bed. I had no doubt I could spend hours between her thighs, until we were both exhausted and well-sated. I didn’t understand why I wanted her so fucking much when I’d only held her in my arms briefly. Jesus, I was a fucking pussy, but I’d have gladly fallen to my knees and worshiped at her feet. I’d love nothing more than to spread those thighs wide and lick her until she screamed my name.

  When my dick was under control, mostly, I knocked on Bull’s door. The sounds coming from his room told me enough to know he was going to be pissed for the interruption. The man might be pushing fifty, but it didn’t stop him from taking two to three club whores to his room each night. Often at the same time.

  There was a growl on the other side of the door, and he jerked it open. I kept my gaze eye level because if there was anything I didn’t want to see, it was Bull’s cock. Mine never got any complaints, but the man hadn’t gotten his name for nothing.

  “What the fuck do you want, Venom?”

  “Get dressed. We have a problem.”

  “It can fucking wait.” He started to slam the door shut, but my hand whipped up and caught it.

  “No, it can’t fucking wait. Are you seriously going to brush off your VP?” I stared him down, and he finally relented. “Come to my room after you’re dressed. And get those fucking sluts out of your room.”

  Bull nodded and shut the door. I blew out a breath and went back down to my room. My hand gripped the knob, but I hesitated. A woman’s soft sobs could be heard from inside, and my gut twisted. I was a hard man, had done a lot of bad shit and gone through a lot of pain, but if there was one thing I couldn’t handle, it was tears from the angel in my room. The moment I’d seen those blue eyes of hers, I’d been fucked.

  Come on, asshole. Quit being a chickenshit.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. Ridley blinked up at me, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks. My gaze caressed every inch of her, and I had to admit I was surprised. She was hot as fucking hell, but I would have expected Bull’s daughter to show up in some sort of designer clothes. The boots on her feet looked new, but she looked every inch a biker’s woman. It made her hot as fuck, and my dick surged again.

  “Your d
ad will be here in a minute,” I told her.

  She sniffled and nodded, her gaze staying on mine.

  “How’d you know it was me out at the gate?” I asked. It had been too damn dark for her to see my patch.

  Ridley smiled faintly. “You haven’t changed much in the last fourteen years. Besides, Dad always showed me pictures on his phone of everyone when he visited.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, remembering that I’d found some silver threaded through it recently. I’d been clean-shaven back when I’d known Ridley and now kept a short beard. And I sure as fuck hadn’t had lines around my eyes when I’d last seen her. She might think I hadn’t changed much, but the man who looked back in the mirror every damn morning said otherwise.

  Her eyes twinkled as she looked me over. “You know, when I was little, I used to tell my daddy I was going to grow up and marry you.”

  I gave a bark of laughter. “Why the hell would you have wanted to marry me?”

  She shrugged. “Even when I was five I felt this pull toward you. You were always nice to me, and I had a crush on you. Well, as much as a five-year-old can have. You were larger than life, and the few times you ever hugged me I always felt safe.”

  A knot formed in my throat at her words.

  “You were something special, baby girl. Still are.”

  A knock sounded at the door and I let Bull in. The moment his gaze landed on his daughter, his eyes went wide and he froze in place.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said quietly. “I’m in trouble.”

  Bull moved farther into the room, and I shut the door. Until we knew what was going on, there wasn’t any point in every nosy person in the clubhouse hearing about it. Something told me that Ridley would want privacy for whatever she had to say. I couldn’t imagine anything making her run from the life she knew. Who the hell gave up living in a mansion to come to a biker compound?

  Bull stood in front of her, a hand slowly reached out, but he pulled back at the last minute. Ridley stared up at him. When he didn’t move again, I saw the tears gather in her eyes.