Hold Me Down

by Slade, Shari

  Hold Me Down

  Part 4 of the Devil’s Host MC Serial

  Shari Slade

  Hold Me Down

  I knew how to survive before I met Noah. Now…

  I need to fight.

  Noah pulls me deeper into the club, where everything is life or death. He lets me peer into the dark hearts of violent bikers. Shows me glimmers of hope. Family, loyalty, honor—but everything comes at a price. This one might be too steep for me to pay.

  *

  HOLD ME DOWN is the final installment in a four part serial. The wildly erotic journey starts with RIDE ME HARD and continues with BREAK ME IN and DRIVE ME WILD. These are short, hot reads, sure to leave you panting for more.

  *

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  Dedication

  For Lizard, who listens.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Want More Alpha Hero Hotness Right Now?

  A Sexy Excerpt from Three Nights with a Rock Star

  More Books by Shari Slade

  Devil’s Host MC Serial Playlist

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  There’s a split-second when a fist is flying at your face—right before impact—that you have a choice. Tense up and suffer more or let it happen. Take it. Roll with the punch.

  I’m done rolling. I’m done going limp and taking whatever blows life hands me.

  It might hurt more, but I’m going to fight.

  That’s what I tell myself as my headlights slice a path in the darkness. With no weapon but my wits, and no plan but faster-forward-now, I turn down the back road that will take me to an abandoned trailer. The one I identified on a map for Noah earlier today.

  Gravel crunches under the tires as the road shifts to driveway. I half expect to see emergency lights and hear sirens in the distance, but everything that made this place a perfect spot to party means all of that is unlikely. The nearest neighbors are a five minute drive away at least.

  I’ve got a ways to go before I see the trailer, but finally my headlights catch on something other than a flash of tree or swath of road. The reflectors on six or seven parked bikes glint in the darkness.

  A mixture of shock and relief washes over me. I did it. I got here in time to let Noah know this could all be a trap. In time to save him. Maybe. I hope.

  I don’t know for sure who those bikes belong to, but I take a calculated risk and roll to a stop beside them.

  Two men peel out of the darkness. Noah’s silhouette is unmistakable. I’ve run my hands over every inch of his body. I’d know him anywhere. The burly man beside him must be Zig. They’re at my door—guns drawn—in seconds.

  Noah’s voice rumbles over me. “Lights off. Get the fuck out of the car. Nice and slow—”

  I scramble for the switch to kill the lights and pop my seatbelt. Halfway out of the car, I can hear the faint thump of music drifting down from a party.

  Then Noah is on me, pulling me from the front seat and pinning me to the rear driver’s side door. “Jesus, Star. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “The cops grabbed Stone.”

  “And they just let you wander off?”

  The metal is cold against my back, making Noah’s heat against the front of me a raging furnace. I push into that furnace, shove into the heat and muscle with my body and breath. “No, I got out of the truck before it happened, and don’t give me any shit for that. If I hadn’t, I’d be spending time with Officer Wade right now.”

  “Did he put his hands on you?” Noah’s eyes flash bright with rage. With fear? No that can’t be it. Noah isn’t afraid of Wade. Not like me. He’d tossed Wade around the diner parking lot like a bag of trash.

  “I told you I got away. It doesn’t matter—”

  “The hell it doesn’t.” There’s murder in his voice. The uneven timbre of a man on the edge. “Details, Star. Now.”

  Shoving at him does nothing but make him curve his lips into a dangerous smile. I do it anyway, fighting for an inch more space between us. Room to breathe. “Then let me fucking talk, caveman. Dale took off through the kitchen at Jimmy’s. He—” I grab Noah’s face and tug him down to me, so I can graze my lips over his ear and whisper. “He set us up. When I saw Stone getting dragged into a cruiser, I—I borrowed a car. You can’t go into that party. They might know you’re coming.”

  Even in the darkness, this close I can see Noah’s body tense. Watch his eyes narrow. Feel the muscles under my hands shift. He pulls me into a hug, and I’m not sure if he’s comforting me or taking comfort for himself. As I sink into his granite arms and press my face to the leather over his chest, I’m not sure it matters. The adrenaline coursing through my blood and propelling me straight into danger recedes, leaving me light-headed. He turns to Zig and they have a whole conversation in grunts.

  “Dale.” Noah spits the traitor’s name like a curse.

  Zig leans against the car, settling his bulky body beside us. “That piece of shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  Zig crushes a cigarette under his boot heel, carefully picks up the butt, and tucks it into his pocket. For a second I’m confused. Is Zig worried about litter? And then it dawns on me that he’s worried about evidence. He dusts his hands on his jeans and points to me. “You sure she’s…”

  My heart hammers against my ribs at Zig’s unfinished question. He could be wondering about my intelligence or my ability, but we all know it’s really my loyalty that’s on shaky ground. I don’t blame him. Everyone’s loyalty is uncertain now.

  Noah squeezes me tight against his chest. Like I’m a toy and Zig might try to take me away. “Do. Not. Go there.”

  “All right, brother. She’s right anyway. He probably already called ahead. Warned these tweakers.”

  “I’m not leaving without my sister.”

  “We don’t even know if—”

  “If she’s not, someone in there knows where she is. I will bust heads like piñatas until answers fall out.”

  Zig’s mouth settles into a hard line. “Fine. What about her?”

  “We’re gonna need the cargo space if Jules is…” he brushes his knuckles against my cheek and squeezes his eyes shut. “Hurt.”

  My stomach turns at the thought. My heart is still holding out hope that these are star-crossed lovers. That Jules wasn’t taken by force. Zig heads back to the rest of their crew.

  They know what they’re doing. They have all the information. I did my part. Mission accomplished. Why don’t I feel relieved? Because they’re still walking into the unknown. And because Noah’s fate is still undecided. These men are with him now, but they still get to vote on whether he lives or dies for killing their insane president.

  Noah untangles himself from my body. “It’d be a wasted fucking effort, sending you away, wouldn’t it?”

  I nod.

  “You’re going to take this crappy grocery basket with an engine, point it south, and wait at the end of the driveway. You keep it running. You keep it in drive. And you keep your foot on the brake until me or Jules tells you to go.” He cups my face and locks his eyes on mine, like he’s trying to see the back of my soul. “Remember what she looks like?”

  The graduation portrait is still fresh in my mind so I nod again.

 
; “Good girl.” Noah kisses me. The warmth of his praise and the brush of his lips wash over me, soothing away the last jagged edge of my terrible adrenaline rush. And then he’s pressing cool metal into my hand. “Do you know how to use this?”

  A gun.

  “I—” Do I know how to use it? I know the way cats know how to flex their claws. But I also know the last time I had a gun in my hand I couldn’t pull the trigger. And I should have. I should have blasted that fucker all over my bedroom wall.

  As my fingers curl around the textured grip, it’s his voice that rings in my ears.

  “Oh, aren’t you a big girl? Does that gun feel as good in your hands as my prick?”

  No. It does not feel good. Not the gun. Not the prick. I shake my head and draw back the safety.

  They’re all the same. Pointing one gun or another at me. Teaching me to use them like it’s a favor. Like I wanted the lesson. “It’s over. No more.”

  “Over? It’s never over. Not for gutter trash girls like you, Star. Shoot me. Squeeze that big gun in your dirty little hands and put a bullet in me while I’m holding your sweet sixteen present.”

  I don’t tell him that it’s not my birthday—that I turned seventeen last month—because he doesn’t care. I don’t tell him that he’s wrong, either. Because he isn’t. I am trash and my hands are so filthy I can hardly look at them. I’ve done terrible things. If I kill him? There’s not enough soap in the world to scrub them clean.

  “Do it,” he urges. “You’ll go to jail.”

  “It’s self-defense.” I cry, but I’m already letting the nose of the gun dip toward the floor.

  He drops the present and grabs the gun. Then backs slowly out of the room. “You know what we do to dogs that bite the hands that feed them? We lock them up until they learn their lesson. And if they can’t learn, Star? We put them to sleep.”

  I didn’t shoot him because I was too weak and too scared. That’s not a problem I need to worry about any more. I shake off the memory and set my jaw. I’m strong now. I tell myself over and over and over. Eventually, I’ll believe it.

  “Yeah, I know how to use it.” The gun is a solid weight in my palm. Not too heavy. Already warming to my skin. My hand barely shakes. “Feels good.”

  Chapter Two

  The digital clock in the cracked dashboard slips from 11:10 to 11:11, and the childish urge to make a wish grabs me low in my belly. Maybe it’s the gun, the constant danger, the uncertainty, all of it swirling together in this terrible miasma of nostalgia and grief, but I would wish on anything right now.

  Eyelashes. Flickering lights. Broken bones. Anything. If it brought Noah back safe.

  Darkness surrounds me, but my eyes have adjusted enough that I can make out leaves rustling in the brush line. Shadows tearing around the bend in the drive. My whole body tenses. I fight the urge to lift my foot off the brake and roll away. That shadow could be Noah with Jules or one of our people.

  Our people? When had they become mine too? Had they?

  I think about traitorous Dale, so much like the men I’d found half dressed in my kitchen so many mornings growing up. Eating my Fruit Loops and looking at me like I was the unwelcome prize at the bottom of the cereal box. Or worse, a welcome prize.

  I think about Dev and the sick crack of his neck. No, they aren’t my people. But those two men aren’t here, either. They aren’t the club. Not anymore.

  I flex the fingers of my left hand on the steering wheel and stroke the pistol grip with my right.

  The shadows draw closer and closer. And then it’s a thump against the door. A man’s hand against the window. I let out a little shriek.

  “It’s all right, Star. Noah sent me to make sure Jules found you okay. You know getaway drivers usually leave the doors unlocked, right?” I recognize the prospect from back at the club. And Jules beside him, moonlight glinting off of her dark hair, looking younger than her senior portrait but also more jaded.

  “Shit. Sorry.” I apologize while rolling down the window a little and popping the locks. She tumbles into the backseat.

  “Take me back to my house.”

  I turn to the prospect still standing outside the car. “That can’t be safe, can it?”

  “It’s fine. No other stops though.” He slaps the roof and heads back up the driveway.

  “Don’t worry. They’re not at war.” Jules shoves a plastic bag full of laundry to the floor and yanks at the seatbelt. “The Jokers are a bullshit club. Candy asses. Didn’t take more than some busted down doors and a few warning shots. They dropped to their knees for The Devil’s Host faster than back alley hookers.”

  “Are you okay? Did they—were you hurt?”

  Our eyes lock in the rear view mirror and she jerks her head. A stiff movement that emphasizes the sharpness of her jaw line and reminds me of her brother. “No permanent damage. Except maybe to my pride. I won’t make the mistake of falling for a bunch of lines from a pretty boy biker ever again, that’s for sure.”

  “You know it’s not your fault, right? No matter what anyone says.”

  “I knew better.”

  “No. He knew better. You just opened your damn heart. You wanted something more. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Okay, Dr. Phil. Now get us out of here. It may not be war but The Jokers are going to have to make restitution. They’ll be talking business for hours.”

  I’m relieved, but there’s an undercurrent of disappointment. That I didn’t get to contribute. That my drive had been for nothing. I look at the exhausted young woman in the back seat and my heart aches for her.

  The drive is slow and silent until a flash of red and blue glints in the rearview mirror. My stomach twists into a familiar knot of dread. Jules kicks the back of my seat. “Hide that gun before you pull over.”

  Shit. I shove the gun under a canvas grocery bag tucked between the seats and glide to the shoulder. Sweat prickles under my arms and on my palms. A sour taste floods my mouth. I roll down the window and keep my chin tucked to my chest, speaking softly, making myself as small as possible. “What seems to be the—”

  “License and registration, ma’am.”

  A burst of icy dread jolts down my spine at the familiar voice. Officer Wade.

  He points a flashlight in the window and I am blinded for a moment. I still manage to keep my face averted. Maybe he won’t recognize me. My clothes are different. My hair. Half the time people don’t recognize me at all outside of the restaurant, even when I tell them who I am. That desperate hope flutters in my chest as I flip open the glove compartment. I say a tiny prayer of thanks that Ella has a neat little folder marked “car documents.” Registration, insurance card, and—jackpot—her license too. Instead of fishing mine out, I hand him the entire contents of the folder. Ella and I have the same hair and eye color. She’s a little shorter than me, but sitting down I don’t think he’ll be able to tell.

  I hold my breath while he inspects everything. He flicks the ultra-bright light back into the car and glides it over Jules. “How about you, Miss? ID.”

  “Oh, I lost my pursh,” she slurs like a buzzed sorority sister and slips a little lower in the seat. “At the party. I love my safe ride. Take me home, safe ride.”

  “Party? Have you ladies been drinking?”

  “No. I—I—I—”

  “I said she was my safe ride.” Jules’ voice sharpens.

  “Step out of the car, Miss.”

  I consider making a run for it, but Wade’s got his gun drawn before I can even get my hand halfway to the ignition. “Step out of the car. Now.”

  As soon as I’m out of the car his hand is wrapped around my upper arm and he’s dragging me toward the back of the vehicle. “Did you think I wouldn’t know who you were? Really? How stupid do you think I am, Star?”

  I grunt in response. There’s no way I’m walking into that one.

  “And how fucking stupid are you? You’re in so much trouble.”

  “You didn’t eve
n have a reason to pull me over,” I shout, all my nerve bubbling over.

  “Really?” His hand flies out and plastic crunches under the butt of his flashlight. Red-orange shards skitter across the ground. “You had a busted tail light. Then you used a false identity. Probable DUI. Don’t worry, I’ve got a flask that says by the time anyone finds you, you’ll be blowing well above the legal limit. We’ll have a little party of our own.”

  There’s an ugly purple bruise on his forehead, and I can’t help but laugh. I can’t believe I’d felt guilty for what Noah had done to him. He’d deserved it. And more. “Noah’s going to kill you.”

  “Did someone knock your little noggin against the headboard one too many times? Noah. Is. Not. Here. I’ve got it on good authority he’s indisposed at the moment.”

  Oh, God. Are the cops back at the trailer? Or is Wade dirtier than I thought? “What do you know?”

  He jerks me toward his police cruiser. “Enough. Hands on the hood. Spread ’em. If you have anything sharp in your pockets, tell me now. I don’t like surprises.”

  “No,” I hiss. The hood is warm against my palms, and I focus on that rather than the slide of Wade’s hands over my hips and outer thighs.

  For a few moments I think he’s going to at least do this by the book, then he pats my inner thighs more slowly. He cups my sex and presses his chest into my back.

  His breath skims hot and dark over my neck and ear. A sick slide I’d do anything to get away from. “I wanted to save you, Star. I wanted to drag you out of that filthy bastard’s clutches and be your hero. But you could ruin a wet dream, couldn’t you? This will work too, though. I can make all your problems go away. Just be sweet.”

  Sweet. God, how many times had I been told to be sweet over the years. To be nice. To be kind. And quiet.

  “You created my problems.” My tears drop fat and hot against the warm metal and I will my body to go numb to his touch.

  “No, no, no,” he shushes and pulls me close, licking a trail from my cheek up to the corner of my eye. “You did this to yourself. You should’ve let me save you, Star. You should’ve let me love you.”