Prince: Devil's Fighters MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Alyssa was very much unconvinced.

  She didn’t know how long it lasted. It felt like it last forever. It felt as if her heart was slowly stopping, and the air was slowly leaving her lungs. It felt like she was dying. By the time it was all over, she was a shaking mess. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees and sob right then and there. But she knew that she couldn’t do it. She knew Prince would never forgive her if she gave Benedict Lenday what he wanted. She knew Prince would never forgive her if she gave Benedict Lenday her sorrow.

  *****

  It was a miracle that Prince was even alive. But he was. He had survived, somehow. He had won. And he had not killed “The Jack”; everyone had been shouting at him to, but Prince had not. He had knocked him out—God only knew how he had managed—and when he had been declared winner he had collapsed right next to the man who had been ready to crush the life out of him with his bare hands.

  Prince had lay unconscious in a hospital bed for two days. He had woken up to his friends standing around in his room and with the woman she loved sitting next to him. Now, five days later, he was standing with Alyssa and Rick in the Devil’s Fighters’ meeting room. Only Bennie Lenday was present, and he was watching them all with interest.

  “So, you’ve made it,” the man said, his voice and expression unreadable.

  Prince stood as tall as he could, given his cracked ribs and his generally bruised self. “I’ve made it,” he said. “And now you have to keep your word.”

  Even though he had seen Lenday keep his promises before, he was still on guard.

  Bennie stared at them for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he nodded. “Fair enough. You’ve made us rich. You’re all free to go.”

  Prince did not move. The words took a long time to register. It all felt like a blur. It felt like a blur to leave his leather vest on the table in the meeting room. It felt like a blur to shake Benedict “Bennie” Lenday’s hand, as they parted ways for real, for good. He would have never wanted to shake that hand, but it seemed stupid to risk jeopardizing everything he had fought so hard for with a disrespectful gesture.

  It felt like a blur to walk out of the Devil’s Fighters’ headquarters. It felt like a blur to drive back to Alyssa’s house and later on to Lynn’s diner. It felt like a blur to celebrate with them all.

  He was free. He was truly free.

  *****

  Alyssa said her goodbye to Lynn with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. She managed to extort a promise from her friend that she would visit them in Vancouver soon—there was simply no way in hell that either Alyssa, Prince, or Rick would ever return to Pinebrook.

  When the plane took off from New Orleans, Alyssa’s heart and soul soared with it. It all felt very surreal. She still could not believe they had succeeded. She still could not believe they were free. She still could not believe they had done it—well, Prince had done it.

  She turned her head and watched him as he stared out the window in disbelief. It occurred to her then that Prince had never been on a plane before, and for some reason, that notion tore at her heart. She reached out and took his hand. Prince squeezed her fingers and turned to look at her. His green eyes were wide with wonder. Whether that amazement stemmed from being on a plane or from his shackles having finally been broken, Alyssa could not tell for sure.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sore?”

  Prince shrugged and hissed at the movement. He seemed to keep forgetting that he had cracked ribs. “A little,” he admitted.

  They lapsed into a companionable silence then. Alyssa had almost fallen asleep like she always did whenever she was flying when Prince spoke again. “Is this really happening?” he asked quietly.

  Alyssa was instantly awake again. She tightened her hold around his hand, which was still in hers. “Yes,” she said forcefully. She locked gazes with him, making sure he was really hearing her. “It’s really happening, Prince. We’re going home.”

  Prince seemed to relax then, as if a reassurance from someone else was all that he needed to hear. “Home,” he repeated, trying out the word in his mouth.

  Alyssa hesitated before asking the next question. “Prince?” she called carefully.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you regret not saying goodbye to your father?”

  Prince had been adamant about not seeing his father before they left for Canada.

  “Hell, no,” he said vehemently. “His debt is paid in full and then some. I’ve done all I could for him.”

  “I’m not talking about what it could have done for him to say goodbye,” Alyssa said gently. “I’m talking about what it could have done for you.”

  “It could have done nothing for me,” Prince said. There was no hate in his voice; he was merely stating a fact. “Trust me, Aly. It’s better this way.”

  He smiled reassuringly, and Alyssa nodded. She relished in him calling her Aly, something she had hated to hear coming from his mouth when they had first found each other again after eight years apart.

  “I love you,” she said again.

  Prince kissed her immediately, as if those words elicited an almost automatic response from him. Alyssa sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

  “I love you too,” he said sincerely.

  Alyssa settled back in her seat and watched as Prince did the same. Not long afterwards, he was asleep. She craned her neck to shoot a look behind her and saw that Anna was reading a magazine and Rick was also out for the count. They shared a knowing smile over the sleeping men; both Prince and Rick were probably letting go of tension that had been in their bodies as a constant companion for almost a decade.

  Alyssa didn’t let go of Prince’s hand. She would never let go of him again.

  “Is this really happening?” Prince had asked.

  The thing was, Alyssa could hardly believe it herself. The past two months had been a roller coaster that she had more than once suspected she would not survive. Instead, here she was. Here they were, unharmed and more or less whole. There was still work to do. It would take time for Prince’s emotional scars to heal. Alyssa would be there through it all. There had been a time when she had wondered whether she would be strong enough to take on the load of Prince’s emotional baggage. Now she knew it was not a load; it was an honor. Prince did not trust easily. In fact, with the one exception of Rick, Prince did not trust. Period. That he had trusted her and was continuing to put his trust in her was something Alyssa was not going to take for granted, no matter what kind of past they shared.

  The more she thought about this man, the more she looked at him, the more her love grew. Alyssa had not thought she could love so strong and so deep. She had never thought she would be able to devote herself to someone so completely. But then again, Prince wasn’t “someone.” He had been so much more than “someone” ever since they were kids.

  Alyssa had to smile. It was funny how life worked. They had been through everything together. They had loved each other and hated each other. They had adored each other and resented each other. They had lost each other, and they had found each other again. Alyssa had lost the two most important people in her life, her parents, only to find someone who filled her life again. It was cruel and bittersweet and ironic, and she wondered if her parents had anything to do with it. Had they manipulated her life from above somehow? It sounded like something her parents might do, especially her dad, who had always liked to tease her and meddle in her love affairs.

  Alyssa shook her head. It was nonsense, of course, but it was still a good thought to think; it filled her with warmth. For the first time since she had lost her parents, that loss did not burn so fiercely. It still hurt, of course. It was still a gaping hole within her. But for the first time since it had happened, she was able to think about her parents without feeling like she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball in some corner and cry herself to sleep. For the first time, she
was remembering them.

  Prince shifted in his sleep and rested his head on her shoulder. Alyssa looked down at him and smiled, deeply touched by his letting himself go completely whenever around her.

  Alyssa looked over his shoulder and out the window. They were passing through clouds, thick and white. As childish as it was, Alyssa liked to think that they were a little closer to her parents. She let her mind wander. She thought about Vancouver, the ocean, and the killer whales that could be spotted sometimes, early in the morning and late at dusk, when walking on the seawall. She thought about the bridge in the forest. She thought about Stanley Park and its towering trees, and the peace that filled you as you walked amongst them and breathed the Earth in. She thought about coffee shops and the colors of Davie Street. She thought about the theatre. She thought about the lights that littered the streets and adorned the tress on English Bay during Christmas time. She thought about how friendly the people were. She thought about the fireworks at the end of July.

  She thought about it all, and she thought about what it had done for her, how it had healed her. She could only hope Vancouver would do the same for Prince and Rick. She thought about showing it all to Prince and living it all with him. And she smiled, because those were the best thoughts she had had in a while. She smiled because they were no longer fantasies, and she could give herself into them completely now.

  She smiled because they were free.

  THE END

  Read on for your FREE bonus book – Saved

  SAVED

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Hey Wade! Where you off to?" Boxer asked.

  Jim Wade turned around to face Boxer but continued walking backwards toward his bike.

  "I thought you'd stay for the show." Boxer pantomimed massaging tits on his own chest with a goofy grin.

  Jim gave Boxer a smile that he didn’t feel. “Naw, man, I need to get some sleep. I haven’t been to bed since before the product run yesterday.” He’d had to set things straight with one of their business contacts who thought he could bypass them in their dealings. It had been a twelve-hour ride roundtrip, and it was a good enough excuse to head out.

  He didn’t want to mention today’s date—it would be dragging up old shit.

  But Boxer protested. “Come on, Wade. I’m sure one or more of the lovely ladies inside would be more than happy to tuck you in!”

  Jim shook his head and grabbed the leather jacket slung over the seat of the motorcycle, bearing the silvery image of an eagle with giant talons clutching an American flag that was ripping in half. It was the patch of the MC, the Steel Talons, and he wore it proudly. He’d been patched in twelve years ago, and his biker brothers were the only family he had now, the only people he trusted.

  Slinging his leg over the bike, he told Boxer, “I’ll see you early in the morning, man. We have to take inventory, make sure nothing went missing with the breakin last week.”

  Disappointed, Boxer approached him and slapped him on the back as he revved the engine on the bike. “Sure, man, I’ll be here all night. I might need a bucket of cold water poured over me in the morning, though, ‘cause there’s a bottle of Patrón with my name on it in there, and I plan to get fucked up.”

  Jim gave him a salute and rode off, the night particularly dark, clouds covering what sliver of a moon there was. How appropriate, he thought, considering the anniversary he was recognizing tonight. He cursed into the wind as an image of Trina popped into his mind.

  His old lady had been a good woman, but she’d been weak. She’d claimed not to have a problem with his lifestyle, but when it came down to it, she didn’t have the heart to be an old lady, and she’d grown to hate the MC.

  He cursed again, this time directing his anger inward, for being so blind to her coping mechanisms. He’d been so caught up in the game he hadn’t realized she was addicted to pain pills till it was too late. One year ago tonight, he’d come home from a party at the clubhouse to find Trina on the floor, not breathing. Next to her were an empty bottle of Vicodin and an empty fifth of Stoli.

  Her overdose had shattered him, and Jim had thrown himself into club business without second thought. He’d been trying to pick up the pieces of his life ever since but couldn’t seem to make a complete picture without his old lady. It probably served him right – karma was a real bitch. He’d made other people suffer, and there was no better way to make him suffer than to take away the one tender, loving thing in his life.

  His bike wavered beneath him, the road slick, and he gripped the handlebars tighter, trying to maintain control. But it was too late, and as his bike swerved off the road, his last thought was, This is what they call poetic justice, you lousy shit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Hey, Susan, we got a call!”

  Susan MacGregor looked up from the patient she was checking in on, a young girl who’d broken her arm on the soccer field that afternoon. She’d brought the girl in earlier, and they’d bonded as she set the arm. Now it was her partner, Eric Mendoza, who was rushing toward the double doors that led to the ambulance bay at the hospital. She quickly said goodbye to the girl and followed Eric out the door.

  “We just got back. Where are Rosen and Bailey?” They had another unit on duty tonight who should have been on this call.

  Eric jumped behind the wheel as she clicked her seatbelt. “They’re too far out, we’re closer. It’s a call-in from some guy driving home, saw a motorcycle smashed against a light post just off Route 5 near the reservation.”

  Susan made a bitter face. “It’s about time. I knew one of those guys who thinks he’s a badass would eventually bite it. Serves them right for drinking and driving. Or riding, or whatever they call it.”

  Eric slid a meaningful look at her. “Get it under control, MacGregor. He’s still a patient, and we have to treat him like everyone else. Besides, you don’t know that he’s been drinking.”

  “That’s all they do,” she scoffed. “They throw their weight around, intimide everyone into doing whatever they want, treat women like property, and get drunk. When was the last time any of those bikers donated to charity? I bet the list of them with felony records is as long as my arm.” She shook her head in disgust as she tied her long, blond hair back from her face. “How bad do you think it is?”

  Her partner shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything about pools of blood or body parts on the road. I guess we’ll see soon enough.” He rounded the curves of the winding road from Olympia toward the accident, and Susan guessed they were about five minutes out. She called it in, making sure the dispatcher knew their position, and grabbed the first aid kit, ready to jump out of the truck as soon as it pulled to a stop.

  Mendoza was right. Biker asshole or not, whoever had been the lucky lottery winner was still her responsibility, and in five years on the job, she hadn’t lost anyone yet. She wasn’t about to start now.

  ***

  Searing pain swept through Jim’s body. He squeezed his eyes to keep them shut against bright lights that flashed around him, but they bled through his eyelids, making his head throb with each blink from blue to red. As he tried to roll away from them, he felt something stabbing into his side and vaguely remembered where he was.

  The road by the reservation… the slick spot… the crash. Dammit. The last time he’d seen those lights flashing up close had been a year ago, when he’d called 9-1-1 and they’d come to try to revive his old lady. He took a self-assessment as voices gathered around him. He needed to tell them what hurt and what didn’t.

  Jim blinked several times and squinted, his vision slightly blurred, the lights blinding. Then someone dropped to their knees beside him and blocked some of the offending emergency beacons. “Sir, are you awake? Can you hear me, sir?” The voice was male, with a slight Latino accent. “Can you tell me your name?”

  One question at a time would have been fine. Jim tried to nod and winced at the pain in his head. “Jim Wade,” he grunted.

  “Mr. Wade, can you feel all your limbs?�
� This time, a female, a raspy quality and harsh tone. “We need to assess your injuries-”

  “Hell, yes, I can feel them, and they hurt like a motherfucker,” he cut her off, not caring how surly he sounded. “I don’t think it’s bad, just bruises and scrapes, but my head’s pounding like a desperate man in a three-dollar hooker.” Apparently, his vision wasn’t as poor as he’d thought, because he saw the sour expression on the woman’s face.

  Then again, he must’ve suffered a head injury because his next thought was, That expression doesn’t take away from her looks at all.

  “Mr. Wade, could you please be still?” The woman sounded impatient, and Jim realized he was squirming in his pain. He stilled, letting them check vitals and check his body for damage. He hissed in a breath of pain as someone – he didn’t see which one – pressed on his thigh and caused a burning sensation.

  It took a few minutes, and they put the required neck brace on him before transferring him to a gurney and loading him into an ambulance. He managed to look around and see a couple of badges with black-and-whites checking out the scene. He listened carefully as the Hispanic medic told them, “It doesn’t look like there was alcohol involved, but they’ll do a tox screen at the hospital. I think he just hit a patch of water and lost control.”

  No shit, Jim thought, wishing like hell he was drunk. Maybe then his head wouldn’t hurt so bad. He settled in the best he could and waited it out, raising an eyebrow as the sexy blonde climbed into the back with him and the other guy took the wheel. “You got a name?” he asked, closing his eyes against the nausea that suddenly slammed into him like a brick wall.

  She didn’t answer right away, and he stared at her lips, which were pressed into a thin line. He imagined that, under normal circumstances, they were full and red, and he couldn’t help imagining them around his cock. Finally, staring at a monitor like she was watching the most intense scene in her favorite movie, she answered shortly, “It’s Susan.”