RUTHLESS HOLD (A Back Down Devil MC Romance Novel)

by London Casey

  Welcome to world of BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB

  ~

  A romance novel by London Casey

  London Casey is the pen name for bestselling romance author Karolyn James

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  RUTHLESS HOLD

  A Back Down Devil MC Novel

  She’s the daughter of the biker who taught him how to be a true outlaw… he’s supposed to keep her safe – not get her pregnant.

  When Trev took the vacant seat at the Back Down Devil MC table, he did it out of honor for a fallen brother. He then learns the man who brought him into the outlaw world had a secret affair and had a daughter a long time ago.

  Worse yet… she’s beautiful. And Trev is put in charge of protecting her.

  Eden is in serious danger. She knows little of her life other than she was given up for adoption. A mysterious letter brings her to a motorcycle club where she learns about her parents and ends up in the arms of a sexy and strong biker.

  The truth about Emma ignites a war within the MC. Two charters are poised to face off in an explosive war and it’s not just the fate of Back Down Devil MC at stake. It’s Trev’s life, Eden’s life, and the life they created all hanging in balance…

  one.

  The first bullet hit Trev in the arm. It turned him just enough that the second bullet grazed his chest. The third bullet was destined for his head. Trev always promised himself that if the day would come, he’d look into the eyes of the man that wanted to kill him.

  He looked into the man’s eyes - some fucking guy with a leather cut and no name - and was ready for death. He could already hear the reaper laughing.

  A third bullet was fired but from a different gun. That bullet killed the man who tried to kill Trev.

  The man who saved Trev was his hero. A secret hero. A hero now lost…

  “Fuck me!”

  Trev shook his head and snapped back to reality. He was behind some reliever, his hands holding her round ass tight. She had a set of lips tattooed on her ass and that was Trev’s target. He thrust forward, grunting, loving the feel of his bare cock pounding into a woman’s pussy.

  “Harder!” she yelled.

  Trev gave it to her harder, sliding one hand up to her hair. He pulled her hair, pulling her head back, letting her scream.

  “How’s this?” Trev asked.

  The bed slammed against the wall. The mattress was almost as loud as she was.

  “Yes!” she cried. “Yes!”

  Trev pulled at her hair harder, putting his head back, pumping his hips as hard as he could. He felt his rippling stomach flex over and over. Goddammit, it was better than hitting the gym. The sound of his body slapping against her. She was a sloppy, wet mess all over him, the sweet smell rising into the air.

  The bedroom stunk of sex as Trev felt his cock fill up.

  Time for a little target practice.

  Trev fucked to the hilt and held there as long as he could. His legs throbbed and he gritted his teeth, trying to hold it off as long as possible. At the last possible second he pulled himself from the reliever and aimed at the set of lips on her ass.

  “Fuck yeah,” Trev groaned as he covered the tattoo with his warmth.

  The reliever reached back and moved his hand from his cock and finished him off. Stroking him up and down, her own wetness making it easy to slide.

  Trev stayed there, fucking her hand until he was done.

  He pulled away from the reliever and moved from the bed. He picked up his jeans and grabbed his leather cut. Being patched in to Back Down Devil MC was growing on Trev. He was used to living on the road, being nothing but a wild outlaw, running with The Lost Men. They were guys that gave up their cuts - or lost their cuts to votes but were allowed to live - and just rode together. They did a ton of dirty work for a ton of dirty cash and survived with next to nothing.

  But the patched in life wasn’t all that bad.

  Trev tugged at his leather cut and started at the nice round ass still sticking up in the air. She was still rocking back and forth, her hand slowly reaching down between her legs.

  “Whatever, babe,” Trev said. “Do what you have to do. I’m out of here.”

  “Where the fuck are you going?” she asked.

  Trev smiled and reached to his dresser for his gun. “I’ve got to go kill someone.”

  *

  Trev put his hand to the trunk. “When do we…”

  A hard thud hit from the inside.

  Trev jumped back. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  Blaine started to laugh, spitting beer all over the ground. He leaned over, grabbing his legs, damn near crying.

  “What the fuck?” Trev asked.

  “He’s already in the trunk,” Nate said with his typical miserable face.

  “Oh? When the fuck did that happen?”

  Miller opened the door to the clubhouse and came walking out, putting sunglasses on. “When you were six inches deep in that whore, we were getting our guy.”

  “Hey, hey,” Trev said. “Six inches? Please.”

  “Don’t insult him,” Nate said. “You know it’s about half that on a good day.”

  “Fuck you,” Trev said.

  Blaine stood back up. “Damn, brother, you should have seen your face.” He put his arm around Trev. “Hey, about the small dick thing. There’s a technique you could do, okay? Grab the head of your dick and pull it. Over and over. You kind of stretch it out, you know?”

  Trev side stepped from Blaine. “Did you really just say that?”

  “How do you think mine got so big?” Blaine asked.

  “Holy shit,” Miller said. “I thought having a kid was going to calm you down a little.”

  “I didn’t lose my balls,” Blaine said. “Now, can we fucking do this?”

  He hammered on the trunk of the car.

  The guy in the trunk pounded right back.

  “I’ll take the car,” Trev said. “Bitch ride for not being there when you snagged him.”

  “Fair enough,” Miller said. “Blaine, everything set with our wonderful Chief?”

  “Yeah,” Blaine said. “Fucking prick has no idea what’s about to happen.”

  “This is perfect,” Gaige said. He walked to Trev and slapped him on the back. “I’ll make sure a prospect brings your ride, okay? They’ll dump the body and it’s one less thing on our back.”

  Trev nodded.

  Miller turned to Nate. “You keep your cell on and ready. I’ll give the call when it’s time.”

  “Got it,” Nate said.

  They shook hands and hugged.

  Things had settled for about ten minutes after the war with Eight Under MC. Their efforts to rebuild were shattered by Back Down Devil and they were all but in hiding, trying to salvage the pieces that were left. As for Coast Road MC, they were pushed down the coast after a few botched missions. It would seem as though things were meant to be quiet, but it wasn’t. Chief Ethan had taken it upon himself to find every possible thing about the MC and go after it. Right now, Chief Ethan was shaking down some thugs who owed the MC money for some old gambling debts from a few years ago.

  The MC knew there was no getting blood from a stone, but that didn’t mean shit could be let go. Regular visits, threats, beat downs, and destruction was needed not so
much to collect on the debts but as a warning to prevent new debts from happening.

  Trev drove out of the lot and followed Miller, Gaige, and Blaine.

  He had a notion of what was going to happen.

  There was no real point of watching it other than the satisfaction of seeing Chief Ethan get beat at his own goddamn game.

  They ended up five miles north near what was going to be a new development for houses and retail, all of which posed its own threat to the MC. Trev knew Miller wouldn’t stand for it. That would create a political war with businessmen and outlaws. The club had gone through that once before.

  Trev pulled the car over. As soon as he stopped he heard the thumping of the guy in the trunk. He pounded and screamed a muffled scream.

  Trev got out and whistled to Blaine. “Is this guy secure in there?”

  “Tighter than a virgin’s sweet pussy,” Blaine called back.

  Trev walked to Miller. “What’s next?”

  “We wait,” Miller said. He pointed. “See that car up ahead?”

  Sure enough, just before the bend, there was a long car. An old car heavily invested in to look pimped out.

  “I see it,” Trev said.

  “That’s where our money ended up.”

  “I wanted to blow it up,” Gaige said.

  “I agreed,” Blaine said.

  “We can’t blow up the new chief,” Miller said. “I appreciate the fire inside you guys, but we have to think with our heads.”

  “I always do,” Blaine said and grabbed between his legs.

  “Wrong head, asshole,” Trev said.

  Sometimes it was a little much to be with guys who were on the same page. Trev had been somewhat of the unspoken President for The Lost Men. Not that the guys up north had to listen to a word Trev said, but they respected him. That respect was earned through action. And Trev learned respect through the action of a fallen member. In fact… Trev had taken that member’s seat…

  “Here we go,” Miller said. “Blaine, give me the cell.”

  Blaine took out a phone and gave it to Miller.

  An unmarked SUV approached the car. It stopped and Trev watched as Ethan got out. He was dressed down and had a folder in his hand. That folder contained some kind of legal deal for the guy in the trunk to testify against Back Down Devil MC. Of course, Ethan didn’t know the guy was in the trunk of the car Trev had driven up here.

  Ethan went to the driver’s side of the car. He then lifted his hands in the air, realizing he was alone.

  “Send,” Miller said.

  “What’d you send him, Miller?” Trev asked.

  “A little hint on where to look,” Miller said.

  Ethan put the folder on the hood of the car and then took out his gun. He went to the trunk and pointed the gun.

  “The trunk?” Trev asked. “It’s empty.”

  “Exactly,” Miller said. “It’s a fucking warning.”

  “Just watch, brother,” Blaine said.

  He got a big smile on his face and his eyes went wide. Trev only ever saw Blaine get that happy when he held his baby, was with Jessa, or when he killed someone.

  Ethan hit the trunk with his hand.

  “Everyone load up,” Miller said. “Get ready to ride right by him. Trev, you know what to do when he follows us.”

  “Yup,” Trev said.

  Miller, Blaine, and Gaige got on their motorcycles.

  Ethan grabbed the trunk and it popped open.

  It was supposed to empty.

  Balloons started to float from the trunk; all kinds of shapes and colors, rising up, floating into the air.

  That’s when Miller started his motorcycle.

  Gaige and Blaine followed.

  “Fucking balloons!” Blaine yelled and laughed.

  They got back onto the road and let their engines roar as they sped up to drive by Ethan.

  Trev had no idea how the hell Blaine got so many balloons and got them jammed into the trunk like he did.

  Trev laughed as Ethan grabbed the folder and got into his SUV. He flew out into the road to pursue Miller, Gaige, and Blaine. Not that he had anything on them. They were just three outlaws on the road, enjoying their freedom.

  Once they were out of sight, Trev went to the trunk of the car.

  He opened it and looked down at the man they captured. The man that owed the MC some serious cash. He had a gag in his mouth and shook his head, pleading, tears pouring from his eyes.

  Some guys were nice enough to get last words or get a chance to shut their eyes and prepare. Trev didn’t give a fuck about any of that. Freedom wasn’t free and the outlaw life wasn’t about booze and pussy.

  Trev took out his gun, pulled the trigger twice, and then shut it.

  “No more pounding on the ride home,” he said and got into the driver’s seat.

  Trev hated driving a car. It was like being in a coffin with wheels.

  Being contained in any way, shape, or form was not an option.

  Trev looked in the rearview mirror at the backseat. “Well, my friend, I’ve got to go dump you off… and then I’m hungry.”

  __

  two.

  Trev patted the headstone. “Thanks for the seat, Ashburne family.”

  He sat down and stared forward at the headstone in front of him. The Ashburne family he didn’t know. Husband, wife, death separating them by five years. They had a smooth stone, which made it comfortable to sit on or lean against.

  In front of Trev was Griffin’s headstone.

  A goddamn bullet took his life. A bullet meant for Miller, sending off a course of revenge that ended with Miller killing Griffin’s killer. Miller got way more than that in the end of it all, but none of it was Trev’s business.

  Not many guys knew that Griffin had given up his leather cut for a couple years. That was a long time ago, when the previous Back Down Devil MC President had the club on a death sentence. It was when Miller had to stand up, take charge, command the patch and fix the club. Hell, it was the reason why Trev gave up all his patches and moved on to the road. He was better off there.

  Until Miller called for him to come down.

  Then Griffin took a bullet, a seat opened, and the opportunity was worth exploring.

  “I goddamn miss you,” Trev said. “I don’t know what comes after all this shit, but in case you aren’t watching, the club is moving forward. We’ve got most of our enemies under control. The new chief is up our ass, sniffing, but he won’t get anything on us. He knows half the department works with us and he knows those cops won’t turn on us. We do too much for them. Hell, maybe Ethan will ease a little in the future and end up on the same course as us. Then again, if he’s like Jerry, he’ll go on a rampage.”

  Trev swallowed the lump in his throat.

  He looked around the cemetery. The place was pretty damn peaceful. Rolling green hills, perfectly placed trees. Shit, take away the notion of bodies and bones being buried under his feet and it was a damn nice place to be.

  Well, a nice place to visit.

  Trev wasn’t ready for the grave just yet.

  Trev reached into his leather cut and took out a flask. He twisted off the cap and threw it back, taking a drink.

  “For you, brother,” Trev said. “You saved my ass that night. That fucking night, man. Everything went wrong. We all knew it was wrong, yet we jumped into it together. Fucking outlaws, right? Riding in the night, wearing leather cuts with scars where patches used to be. That was us, together. You never truly belonged with The Lost Men, Griffin. I’m glad you came back down to Frelen. Christ, any of the other charters would have benefited from you, but you came back to your home. I know there aren’t many who know about us and our history. I’ll keep that to myself the best I can. I can’t stop thinking about what happened though. If there was something else we could have done. Moved faster, smarter, I don’t know. But we let it get to that point where a bullet went through the air and got you.”

  Trev gritted his teeth and t
ook another drink. He put the flask away. He crossed his arms and pushed from the headstone and walked around to see the Ashburne stone. Who were they? Was he a lawyer? Was she a housewife? Maybe she was the lawyer and he was a mechanic or something. So many stories all around the cemetery but they were all silent. No matter how hard you tried to listen, nobody spoke.

  That was the chilling part.

  So many people with so many memories, stories, offerings, and they were silenced by the stopping of their hearts.

  Trev looked up and looked at Griffin’s grave. Revenge had been dealt and there was nothing else to do about it. That didn’t make it right or fair. Feeling that put Trev in a troubled spot. Holding onto grudges, guilt, all that bullshit, that was a fast track to a grave.

  Leaning forward, Trev put his hands to the Ashburne stone.

  “Fuck, Griffin,” he said. “These talks are too one sided. At least the club is cleaning up nice. We have the strip club on our side. The PD stays put except for Ethan, like I said. Eight Under is nothing but a few guys trying to throttle some dirt bikes. I don’t like it this way, Griffin. At all. I don’t think about the north too much anymore. The Lost Men and what they’re doing. The hell they’re causing. Traveling charter to charter, making something happen. That’s what I want, brother. I want to make something happen. But I can’t give up the seat. They wanted me patched in and I couldn’t let someone else take your spot, brother. I’m not sure how much longer I can have these talks. It’s been far too long, Griffin. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Blaine is in a committed relationship and has a kid. That’s how far we’ve come in all this.”

  Trev walked around the Ashburne stone and took out his gun. He took out the clip and pulled a single bullet from the clip. He reattached the clip to his gun and tucked it away in its holster.

  “I have to get going,” Trev said. “Duty calls.”

  He walked to the headstone and put the single bullet on it.

  He then walked away from the headstone, not looking back.

  It was what he always did. A single bullet to Griffin. Maybe in some stupid way he thought that bullet would bring Griffin back. Maybe it was just a dumb gesture and a waste of a perfectly good bullet.

  Each time Trev came back, the bullet was always gone.

  That had to mean something, right?