Crossover: Devil's Due MC and Vipers Creed MC Prequel

by Chelsea Camaron

  I keep going, moving my arms to under her armpits, forcing her to wrap her arms around my neck.

  “I got nothing left,” she whines against me.

  After all the work to finally bottom out inside her, she’s tapping out on me?

  I exit her heat on a protest from my cock, still hard, and shake my head, trying to shake off the frustration. Her legs drop haphazardly down as I guide her to the picnic table.

  Pulling the condom off, I tie a knot in it before tossing it into the trashcan in the corner. Then I yank my shorts over my sensitive rod and look over my shoulder at Connie who is lying half-naked on the picnic table, staring up, lost in her own thoughts and feelings.

  Reaching down, I toss her shorts to her. Then, pushing the branches aside, I peek out around us before I take off back out into the rain.

  I don’t look back. I don’t say a word. I leave her half out of it in bliss while I fight my own body to go beyond my limits.

  The chaffing of my shorts on my cock brings on a burn, the exact burn I need to push through. The pain hits all of my muscles as my release was not to be found. Step after step, my body cries out for relief until I am finally able to reach down and adjust myself, the one stroke being what I need to make a hell of a mess in my shorts, but at least it takes away the ache.

  For now.

  Temporary. It’s always temporary.

  Chapter Three

  ~Judge~

  Not my business.

  I try to ignore the little boy in line at the register in front of me. His clothes are wrinkled, his neck has the telling yellow tint of healing bruises, and his head hangs in defeat. The woman holding his hand wears the same sadness on her face. Her eyes are puffy from tears she’s obviously shed.

  I can sense the tension, the fear, and the overwhelming loss of fight. These two are going through hell, and they are losing the will to push on.

  Why?

  Not my business, I remind myself just as the boy looks up at me with his crystal blue eyes full of unshed tears.

  Hopeless.

  The little eyes looking into my own are the same ones that once stared back at me in a mirror for more years than I care to admit.

  Fuck!

  Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. The apples, bread, peanut butter, jelly, and milk slide up the belt as the woman reaches in her designer purse to remove her wallet. The cashier rings up their items.

  “Your total comes to ten dollars and eighty-two cents, Sabrina.”

  There is a look that passes between the gray-haired woman behind the register and the young mom in front of me.

  Opening her wallet, the woman takes out a credit card. She swipes. Then tears fall from her eyes as she looks helplessly at the screen on the small machine in front of her.

  “This one is mine alone,” she whispers then tries the card again. “He can’t do this to me.”

  “Sabrina, go home. Daniel will give you everything back if you just go home, honey.”

  “Honey,” she fires back at the older woman and pulls her son closer to her side. “He put his hands on Danny. He can do what he wants to me, but he will not put a hand on my son ever again,” Sabrina chokes out as tears freely fall down her face. “I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll provide for me and my son without living in that house.”

  “It’s only been three days. You’re sleeping in your car in the parking lot. He’s watching, Sabrina. Just go home,” the cashier counters. “He’ll make it up to you. At least then you and Danny can have clean clothes, food. And if you don’t, he told Martin that next, he’s going to report the car stolen.”

  Shit! My gut twists and anger boils.

  With a squeeze of her son’s hand, she digs into the bottom of her purse for change.

  Reaching out, I touch her shoulder, and she jumps at the contact. I toss down a twenty-dollar bill as I look at the cashier with my bottle of shaving cream and toothpaste. “Add mine to it and keep the change,” I command as I step around Sabrina and her son to bag their meager groceries.

  Sabrina’s mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t speak as I gather up her bags.

  Bagging my two items, I don’t release the stranger’s bags as I extend my hand for her to lead us outside. I follow her and her boy outside.

  I stop at my bike then reach into my saddlebag, pulling out an envelope before catching back up to the two of them as they climb into a nice SUV parked under a street light with four flattened tires.

  Placing her bags in the backseat beside her son, I look at the woman who can’t get herself under control.

  “Sabrina,” I say softly.

  “Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary.” I reach down to her wrist and lift her hand palm up. Then I place the thick padded envelope in her hand. “Take this, get a cab. The bus station is down the road. Start over.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t take this. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find us.”

  Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I remove a business card and place it on top of the envelope in her hand. “When you get to the bus station, call Tempest. Tell her Bladen Jones is calling in his marker.”

  She gasps, looking at my cut. “You’re dangerous,” she says, trying to push the envelope back at me.

  “I can be,” I honestly reply. “I’m of no danger to you or your boy. I lived my own hell, and I’m here to help. Tempest will set you up safely. It’s a legit women’s shelter. I’ll carry your costs; just get to her with your boy.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “How can you not take the chance?”

  She looks at her car, her clothes, her boy, and then back at me. “You’re a saint.”

  “Far from it. Just get to Tempest and don’t look back. She’s had more experience with this than you know.”

  She hesitates. “I can’t ever repay you.”

  “Pay it forward. Once upon a time, I couldn’t help someone who mattered most, but I can help you. In time, you can help someone else, Sabrina. For now, worry about you and little Danny. I know what hell at home is like; don’t let the boy grow into a man knowing that shit.” Without another word, I turn and take long strides back to my Harley.

  Fucking small towns. Fucking bitch asses telling her to go back.

  I sit on my machine, waiting to see what Sabrina will do. I glance inside the grocery store to see the nosey cashier at the window, watching.

  No doubt, she’s going to go straight to Sabrina’s ex with the news that the mother of his child is ready to break.

  Cranking the bike, I twist the throttle before I put it in gear then ride away. I’ll be back for more information on the man who put his hands on his son. For now, I will give Sabrina the time she needs to get to the bus station. Then I will reach out to Tempest Adams and the Haven’s Harbor Women’s Shelter she runs to make sure Sabrina and Danny have access to my funds should they need them. For now, it’s time to make a run to the bank to replace my petty cash.

  Being a nomad has been a change in lifestyle for all six of us, but a necessary one for me. My trust fund gathers more interest each month than I can spend. Tempest has built up the shelter to be self-sufficient now, no longer needing my backing.

  We all have our own sources of income, and we all spend what we need when we want while still taking each other’s backs if the need should arise. Like Deacon who was medically retired from the Navy after a mission went bad. Apparently, the military doctors labeled him mentally unfit for duty, citing PTSD. He has some issues for sure, but the man is far from unfit. Their loss is the Devil’s Due MC’s gain. He gets his pension and keeps his benefits. Living like we do, he banks more than he spends.

  Yeah, I will run a few errands to secure safety and provisions for Sabrina with Tempest. Then I will be back to visit a certain cashier to find out exactly who Daniel is.

  Looks like me and the boys have something to handle while we are here in the great state of Tenness
ee. After all, the devil always gets his due.

  Chapter Four

  ~Rowdy~

  I sit on my Harley just outside the tall brick building. The oversized clock chimes ten as the rain continues to pour down, soaking my jeans to my skin. The courthouse that took it all away.

  I rub my side, allowing my mind to feel the ghost tingles of the tattoo needles piercing my skin.

  An hour before, I walked in that door. I let her mark my body for life. She owned my soul. I let her ink me. I let her design my ribs and start what she would finish when I got out. In my mind, I was taking the good with me when I went down.

  Everything beautiful in my life disappeared the moment the gavel crashed down. Sentenced to fifteen years, I got off for good behavior after eight. There was nothing good about my behavior. I used those eight years to plot my revenge.

  I got it, too.

  The fucker who locked me up on a false charge and planted the evidence to get me convicted is long gone, never to be seen or heard from again.

  Dover ‘Collector’ Ragnes was and is my partner in crime. I respect the man for seeing through the bullshit and seeking out the truth. I owe the man for helping me handle justice my way rather than the law’s way. Too bad that, by the time I got out and handled my shit, everything else was gone … long gone.

  I stare at the building for a moment more. Then I click the clutch with my foot, ready to pull away.

  “Jackson ‘Rowdy’ Presley, free motherfucking man,” I say to the brick building as a reminder that I am out.

  With a single middle finger salute to the building behind me, I take off.

  Every year, the guys give me this. I know it’s hard for Collector to be back in his hometown, but he gives it to me. He lets me have a moment to remember I’m not a caged beast anymore. I’m not in an eight-by-eight cell, simply counting the seconds ticking by until I could be free.

  Just as I take the turn to the right to leave downtown, the rain pelts down harder in sheets. Two more blocks and I will soon be on open highway.

  There is a flash of gold before I make out the form of a person crossing the street. I try to slow, try to move, but I rapidly feel the bike give way under me. I’m going down.

  I hear her scream before I feel the hard pavement unyielding below me. I hit with a thud and hear my bike continue to slide away from me.

  Blinking, I see a woman in a blue uniform standing over me. Her dark hair is pulled into a tight bun as her slanted eyes blink, revealing deep brown hues of her Asian descent.

  On a groan, I push myself from the ground to stand, my frame towering over the small female officer.

  Fucking great, a cop. If it wasn’t for bad luck where law enforcement is concerned, I would have no damn luck at all.

  I feel the throbbing of my fall radiate up my spine and into my head.

  “Excuse me, sir. Are you okay?”

  I blink through the rain. “Peachy.”

  “Can I see some ID?”

  “No,” I snap back, making my way over to my bike.

  “Sir.” Her small hand comes out to grab my elbow in a firm grip.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Sir.” She remains firm in tone, but she releases her hand from my body. “I need to see some identification.”

  “You walked out in front of me. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Unless you have something you intend to charge me with and drag my sorry ass back into that building over there, save us both some time so we can get to our homes and get dry, and let me the fuck go.”

  Something flashes in her eyes as her breathing picks up. I watch as she saunters to me while I use my handlebars to help prop my bike then lift the beast from the ground.

  “Oh, hell.” I take her in as she drinks me in with her eyes from head to toe like a cold glass of sweet iced tea on a hot summer day. “We’re not playing good cop, bad cop.”

  “Who says I wanna play?” Her voice is raspy like she suddenly smoked half a pack of cigarettes.

  She looks around us. The streets are empty because of the storm.

  Just as I get ready to mount my bike and ride off, she bends over to pick up some broken pieces, and I look to see my brake lines hanging dangerously loose.

  “Fuck,” I say, rocking the bike and gliding it over to a nearby alleyway.

  Before I can get back over to where I laid my lady down, I find the black and white patrol car boxing me in.

  “Shit,” I whisper as I stand stock still. My black T-shirt is clinging to me as if it’s been tattooed on my body. My leather cut is soft from years of wear, and the water beads and rolls off it.

  The tiny Asian beauty climbs out of her patrol car and comes over to me, removing her belt.

  My dick gets hard. The porno scenes that play in my mind have me wondering if her pussy is as small as her body. To break a cop with my cock would be a fucking dream come true.

  I smile at the thought of splitting her down the middle.

  Dropping her weapons, all of them to the ground, she leans down to pick up her handcuffs before she stands in front of me and unbuttons her uniform top one button at a time.

  “You a stripper? This some fucked up joke from Trapper?” I ask, really thinking my brother would set me up for some crazy kinky shit like this, just to leave me with a serious set of blue balls.

  She pulls her shirt tail out of her pants and drops it to the wet ground beneath us. Her white undershirt immediately soaks up the water from the rain, and her small pebbles poke out in need while her shirt clearly shows she isn’t wearing a bra.

  The cuffs are tossed at my feet before she unbuttons her pants.

  “No fucking way!” I yell.

  There is no way in hell I’m cuffing her so she can scream rape. No. I have been on the other side of a cop with an agenda to set me up. I did my time, and I’m not going back. I will die before I end up on the other side of those bars ever again.

  “Arrest me.” She stares me down, not backing down in the least bit. “Cuff me. Fuck me. It’s been a long dry spell, and here you are, crashing into my life. I don’t need to know your name, your occupation. I just need you to relieve the ache, and then we can both go on our way.” With that, she turns her back on me and walks back to her car. When she reaches the hood, she spreads her legs shoulder-width apart with her back to me as she drops her pants and panties to her ankles, and I see the fabric stretching to accommodate the awkward position.

  I pinch myself, thinking it’s a dream or a hallucination. How hard did I go down? Did I hit my head during the wreck?

  With a shake of her naked ass, she places her hands on the hood of the car with her face down. She slowly slides her wet front against the metal of the car, sticking her pussy and ass out into the air. Then she looks over her shoulder at me, licking her lips while she dry humps the air, continuing to work herself up for more.

  Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I take out my last condom. If this is a dream, I will make the best of it. If this is some fucked up joke from Trapper … Well, payback will be a bitch when the time comes.

  In quick succession, I unbutton my jeans, reaching in and releasing my semi-hard cock. A few strokes, along with a moan from my writhing friend in front of me, and I’m sheathing myself with the condom and sliding into her tight heat.

  I have had a pussy that was heaven before. Every time I sank in deep in my woman when I had her, it was like her walls molded around my cock. She would milk me dry in a matter of two thrusts. I always had to fight back my need to come as soon as I entered her.

  This pussy isn’t hers. This pussy is foreign to me, and my cock says no.

  As I start to soften, I slide in and out, at least hoping the bitch will get what she needs, because I damn sure won’t.

  My ribs burn with every breath I take. My ribs, where my ink is, the ink she started …

  Reaching around the tiny frame that is pushing back on me as hard as I’m pushing in,
I slide my hand down to find her clit. With a few circles of her round nub with my thumb, I feel her clamp around me in her own orgasm.

  I pull out, my cock completely soft and my balls hanging heavy in need as she flops against the hood of the car, riding out the aftershocks. I don’t know how that managed to get her off. All it did for me was leave me feeling more pissed off than I was before.

  Fucking cops.

  Figures. I should have known this wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

  Flinging the condom to the ground, I slide my pants up and turn back to my bike. Then I reach in my saddlebag and get out some zip-ties and rework the wiring of my lines to make it back to the boys at the hotel. Together, they will help me get it fixed right. I just need to escape before Officer Need Some Cock decides she wants a round two.

  I shake my head as she calls out to me while she gathers her clothes.

  “Your name?”

  “Rowdy,” I toss out as I swing my leg over the motorcycle before firing it up.

  She is still trying to put herself back together when I take off down the alley, barely making it past her patrol car.

  As I twist the throttle and speed down the road, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. I was fucked by the police in this shit-ass town before. This is the first time I can say I fucked the police here in Cloverfield, Tennessee. Too bad I can’t say the shit was good. Maybe for her, but not for me.

  I push the bike harder as I let my past flood my mind. I will never have it good again. She’s gone, and everything that was good went with her.

  Time for more ink, I think as I pull up to the motel. Just one more can’t hurt. She started the piece that covers my ribs, and I can’t let it end until I’m dead and gone, because somehow, it’s all I have left of us.

  Chapter Five

  ~Dover~

  Fucking hell.

  The flagged email taunts me. While my computer virus scan says it’s not safe, my gut tells me this could help one of my brothers.