by Ryan Michele
Nanette had fallen off the radar. Cade’s club happened to be the last place she was seen; therefore, I had to call him. I may as well have strapped zip-ties around my wrists, locking them in place.
“First, if she’s at the club, there’s a reason. Second, bitches here don’t go by their real names, so I don’t know if she’s around, because I don’t know a Nanette. Third, you come to the clubhouse, and we’ll talk.”
Business was business, but my heart spiked at the thought of seeing him again.
Cade’s club, Vipers Creed MC, had been in Dyersburg for years. Even before I came into this world, their presence had been well known. This town had tales, but these days, the Vipers were mostly known for Creed’s Automotive where they made custom bikes and cars in their own little world located on the outskirts of town.
I’d hoped to avoid a meeting since I couldn’t see any point to it. I wasn’t in the mood for a high school reunion. The past needed to stay there, locked up tight.
“I’ll describe her to you. Tell me if she’s there, and I’ll send someone over to get her,” I declared, trying to veer him from this path.
Negotiations were something I excelled at. There had to be an arrangement that suited us both, one we could manage over the phone. It would be the best course of action. The less contact I had with him, the better. I could have Ike, one of the bouncers at Sirens, pick her up. Win-win all around.
He chuckled, and my body went on alert because of the slyness in it.
“Babe, you don’t get how this works. You want something from me that I have, bring your ass here, and we’ll discuss it. Tomorrow night, seven.” Silence.
This time when I looked at the screen, the number fifty-seven blinked rapidly. He’d hung up on me.
“That arrogant piece of shit!” I growled, tossing my phone to the couch where it bounced on the cushion.
I should have known he’d still be a dick. Some things never changed. Guess I was going to meet up with Cade after all.
I completely ignored the slight tremor that thought caused.
Read more in Challenged (Vipers Creed#1) by Ryan Michele.
Crossover
(Devil’s Due MC and Vipers Creed MC Prequel)
written by
Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele 2016
All Rights Reserved. This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission from Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, domestic abuse, and explicit language offends you.
This is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.
Dear Reader,
This book is written to tie two separate motorcycle club series together. Both stories have been written as prequels to the respective series. Therefore, it is not necessary to read any books prior to this one.
For those of you who have read the first books in each series, please keep in mind the timeline for each story within this book falls before those books occur. These stories are merely given to enhance the character development and bring the two worlds together. We hope you get to know each of these bad boys a little bit better by the end of this.
We hope you enjoy this crossover as we bring a club of nomad bikers into the territory of an established club as their paths come together.
With love and appreciation,
Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele
Two motorcycle clubs, two different reasons for being, and one lifestyle find each other together.
– Devil’s Due MC –
Respect is earned, never freely given.
Our road is a path for justice. Nomads always on the open highway, we follow the trail, no matter where it leads, everyone be damned.
– Vipers Creed MC –
Respect is hard earned.
Live by the creed, die by the creed. If you aren’t with us, you’re against us. If you step into our world, your balls better be big and your cock even bigger.
Brothers, bikes, and bitches collide. Respect is everything.
When two clubs cross over into each other’s worlds, only madness, mayhem, vengeance, and heat can possibly ensue.
Crossover
Devil’s Due MC
Written by Chelsea Camaron
Chapter One
~Dover~
Tennessee, home motherfucking home. There’s not a damn thing sweet here for me. In fact, I need to stay under the radar while we are here in the first damn place. The pit stop in my hometown is for Rowdy. Every year on his release date, we give him the opportunity to go give the middle finger to the place that took more than his freedom away from him.
The Volunteer State, humph. There is nothing about this town, this state, or the history I have here that has me ready to volunteer for a damn thing other than to get the hell out of Dodge.
I can only hope for the sake of everything I already fucked up between us that Gretchen doesn’t find out I’m around. I’m a selfish bastard, an asshole, a prick, and for some fucked up reason that woman can’t let me go. The history we share needs to be in the past. I’m no good for her and haven’t been since the day we met when we were seventeen.
Loyalty, I will give her that. It runs thick in her veins, but I need more than she can give me. It’s why I had to hit the road with Rowdy years ago. It’s why we met up with X, Judge, and Deacon, all riding the open highway together before Trapper landed on our doorstep, sliced up in front of us.
Loyalty, we have it to each other. It’s a lifestyle I won’t bring Gretchen into. I took enough away from her. It’s time I give her back her freedom since mine won’t come until my past is settled. I don’t need to drag her down with me.
That’s what the six of us have in common. We aren’t dragging each other down. Nope, we are all living our own personal hells together. You can’t drag anyone deeper than we already are. We do it together. If anyone wants out, at any time, they can go. Until then, we go from town to town, following one lead after another, trying to serve justice that previously wasn’t given.
Chapter Two
~Deacon~
The gravel crunches under my feet. I fucking hate Tennessee. That’s bullshit.
I hate everywhere.
It’s five a.m. on a hot, humid day. The atmospheric pressure of a storm rolling in has my lungs burning for clean air and my joints aching for me to slow down.
Press on, Frogman. I push harder.
My days as a Navy SEAL are behind me. After being trained to be part of a team, an integral piece of something greater, there are pieces of my past I can never leave behind. Running clears my mind, though. The physical exertion of pushing harder and harder reminds me I’m alive, and in the end, it’s a daily habit I simply can’t break.
The gray sky opens up, and drops pelt down on my face in rapid succession. Pin prickles hit my skin like shards of metal cutting me.
I relish the pain.
My thighs burn, and my knees are in agony from every pound of my feet on the pavement beneath me. My sweat rolls down in thick beads, mixing with the water and leaving a salty blend on my skin and lips.
Thunder rolls in the air around me and lightning flashes overhead as the salt of my sweat continues to mix with the water causing the inside of my eyes to burn fiercely. My body reacts by blinking rapidly as I power on.
I want to wipe my eyes, but I resist, fighting to see cle
arly.
Isn’t that what we all do? Fight to see things clearly?
My dick gets hard. I get off on the pain. I get off on pushing myself harder and harder, higher and higher. No relief. No rest. Push on.
I hear the rhythm of someone running ahead of me. From the softer sounds of their shoes, it’s a female, or a male much lighter than me. At six-foot-eleven and a solid two hundred and sixty pounds, I am muscle, mass, and not fucking afraid of one damn thing.
The thunder booms, the lightning flashes, and I hear the scream of a woman.
Ahead of me, I see the flash of neon pink as I watch her steps stop. Coming up on her, I feel the tension of her anxiety radiating into the space around us.
“You should get inside,” I say to her, my breathing ragged from my run.
She is frozen in place as yet more thunder crashes loudly around us. She shakes her head back and forth wildly, and her braid whips around, smacking her in the face. The park we are running through has a small shelter with a single picnic table off to our right. Taking the fearful pixie by the hand, I guide her to the space to at least get out of the elements.
She trembles as her body gets out of the pelting rain. Instinctively, I rub my hands up and down her arms as I feel her break out in goose bumps.
“The app said this morning would be clear,” she blurts out and then strains her neck back to look up at me. “You’re tall.”
I say nothing. What is there to say? I am tall, and I’m pretty sure the app on my phone didn’t call for rain this morning, either. Regardless, I felt it in the air before I ever made it this far from the dive we have been crashing in.
Rain, wind, sleet, snow, or a fucking tornado, if I don’t get up and run first thing, it’s like I can’t function. My mind goes places it doesn’t need to.
“My name is Constance. You can, um … call me Connie. My friends do,” the tiny woman in my arms says, bringing me out from my dark thoughts.
“Deacon.” I give her nothing more.
“Deacon, huh? Were your parents big on church?” She laughs to herself. I don’t know why she finds my name funny.
“Road name, not my real name. As for church and God, we have an understanding. Not really your business.”
“Broody,” she whispers, taking a step back and looking around me at the storm raging on. “It’s kinda hot.” She twists her hands together nervously, starting to whisper to herself as if I’m not even standing a mere three feet away. “Hot man … all wet. My God, this is like out of one of the books I read. Go for it, Connie. Take a chance. Live a little. It’s not like you haven’t had a one-night stand before.” She smacks herself in the forehead. “You’re an idiot. Just do it.”
Turning my back on her, I make my way to the edge of the covering, ready to take off and finish my run. I don’t like nervous people. I don’t like nervous energy. I need to get the blood pumping hard in my veins again. I need the release of pushing my body to its limits. What I don’t need is batshit crazy, even if it would take the ache out of my balls.
Boom, crack, crash. We hear the thunder clap and then the crack of an old pine tree before we both stand in awe as we watch it fall.
As it crashes onto the roof of the shelter, I feel two small hands reach out to grab me just as she screams in reaction to the pine needles flying everywhere and the branches settling around us, cocooning us in this space.
“Please don’t leave me. When the storm passes, I’ll be okay, but I’ve never liked storms.”
On a sigh, I move to the picnic table and sit on the tabletop, bending my knees to rest my feet on the bench. With my elbows on my knees, I try to let the time pass.
I’m an ass, but I’m not a bona-fide dickhead. She’s scared; I won’t leave her. I just won’t give her a ton of attention. This will pass, and then we will both be on our way. Only, then the dark-haired woman comes to stand in front of me.
“What do you do, Deacon?” she asks me as if she’s trying for small talk.
“I don’t do chatter,” I huff out.
I watch her lips tick as if she’s fighting back a smile. She fans herself as if she’s hot, but the rain has cooled the air around us. Then her breathing changes, and I watch the dramatic rise and fall of her pert breasts in her sports bra as she looks at me with a distinct desire.
She bites her lip in an erotic way. “What do you do?”
Oh, honey, do you even realize what you’re starting here?
“I fuck, I fight, and I ride my bike; not necessarily in that order,” I give her honestly.
She taps her finger on her lip as if she’s contemplating something. There is a new confidence to her that has my cock hardening in curiosity, wondering if she will be so full of herself when I’m balls fucking deep.
“Well, we have nothing but time, and I could use a way to burn a few more calories.” She gives me a wink.
***
The story continues on in Crossover (Devil’s Due MC and Vipers Creed MC Prequel) available for preorder through all major retailers. Meet all six nomads of the Devil’s Due MC and find out what happens when their paths cross right into Vipers Creed territory. Mayhem, madness, and steam will all collide in this collection of two stories together.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She’s a wife and mom, chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write about blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.
Chelsea can be found on social media at
www.facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron
Twitter @chelseacamaron
Email [email protected]