by Joanna Blake
Praise for Joanna Blake
Couldn’t put it down. Can’t wait to see if Mason gets a story and how things turn out for the family.
Amazon reviewer
Love her stories and the suspense of wondering what will happen. You can get lost in this fantasy world of love, heartache and happy endings.
Amazon reviewer
Loved the way this author writes. Will continue to read her books. Love those military heros!
Amazon reviewer
Marked By The Devil
Women always seem to fall into my lap. Until an innocent beauty crosses my path and wants nothing to do with me.
I’m one of the Devil’s Riders, the inner circle of one of the biggest motorcycle clubs in California. My brothers and I live on the edge of society, and we like it just fine.
I’m swimming in easy women, but I’m easily bored. Then one day, I see her. Molly McRae. She’s easy on the eyes and sweet as pie. All I want to do is take a bite.
From the moment I see Molly, I’m on a mission. I chase her down and learn her name. Then I begin my campaign to make her mine.
I want to mark her. I want to tattoo her silky skin and kiss away her tears.
Hell, I want to put my brand on her. My name. My ring.
And I won’t stop until she’s mine.
Marked By The Devil is Book 5 in The Devil’s Riders series. Each book features a new couple with visits from old favorites. Marked By The Devil can be read as a standalone but will be more enjoyable if the entire series in read in order.
Marked By The Devil
Joanna Blake
Copyright © 2018 by Joanna Blake
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Christina Cartner Youngren
Thank you for all that you do, your love of books, and most of all your friendship. You inspire me every day and make me laugh. I am so lucky to have you as a friend, and so are all the animals you rescue!
Xoxox,
Joanna
Contents
Introduction
The Night it all changed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Six months later
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Mean Machine Excerpt
Torpedo Excerpt
Slay Me Excerpt
Cockpit Excerpt
Introduction
This is the fifth book in the Devil’s Riders series. This can be read as a standalone, but I recommend starting at the beginning. At this time, these books are exclusively available on Amazon.
Devil’s Riders Book Order:
• Wanted By The Devil (Devlin’s story)
• Ride With The Devil (Jack’s story)
• Trust the Devil (Donahue’s story)
• Dance With The Devil (Whiskey’s story)
• Marked By The Devil (Callaway’s story)
Don’t worry, the Devil’s Riders series is not over. Audiobook versions are coming soon!
Enjoy!
Xoxox,
Joanna
The Night it all changed
Callaway
“Not tonight, ladies.”
I felt a little guilty about all the disappointed faces, but I had somewhere to be. A birthday to celebrate.
And to be honest, I was kind of bored with the constant hooking up with the club girls. They were more than just easy. They were literally always available and down to do just about anything a truly perverted mind could think up. Some of the guys called them skanks, but I didn’t think that was a nice way to talk about a lady.
Of course, that didn’t mean I hadn’t spent many a night fucking them stupid. Usually, two or three at a time. More than a couple of times, four. And twice, five.
Yeah, I’m kind of a legend around here.
Not just for the way I use my ink gun either.
I’m the latest addition to the inner circle of the club. I’d come up with Whiskey and had been brought inside on his word. Devlin, Jack, and Donahue all counted me as a brother. All the club guys were brothers in theory, but we were close brothers. Tight.
Blood brothers.
I hadn’t had much of a family growing up other than my nana. My parents had been addicts, and both died young. Not before scaring the fuck out of me a bunch of times though.
It had been my phone call, after finding my mom lying in her own sick with a needle in her arm, that made my nana come and get me. She’d tried to protect me for years, but my mom had put on a good show for Child Protective Services. This was the final straw.
I’d been six years old but smart enough to call my nana, who called 911. She’d driven hours in the dead of night to sit with her grandson and speak to the EMTs and the police. They treated my mother’s lifeless body like she was a piece of garbage, just something in the way to deal with. An inconvenience, not a person.
I’d had an aversion to cops ever since.
And a boatload of respect for my grandmother.
I could never disrespect any woman because of that respect. Yes, they were more or less interchangeable to me, sexually. But I never turned down a good time.
But lately, things were changing. Lately, I had not been feeling it.
I wanted more than a place to put my dick. That was easy. I needed more than that. It was sneaking up on me, but it was there. I was like an uncle to Becky and Whiskey’s kid, and it started to give me the itch for one of my own.
Of course, that meant I’d have to find a woman worth staying home for. I could hardly imagine it, but maybe, just maybe, I was willing to put away my wild nights for one very lucky lady.
I could say my future old lady was lucky for a couple of reasons, but number one was my incredibly long . . . tongue.
Even before I was a full club member, I’d never been at a loss for women. The guys all thought it was because I had a pretty face and some major ink. Some thought it was my piercings. Or the fact that I had a gigantic dick.
Nope. None of those things.
All I had to do to get a woman was one thing.
I just had to show her I could lick my eyebrows.
Oh yeah, my tongue was longer than most guys’ cocks. And I could work miracles with it. Of course, I didn’t treat just anyone. But now and then, I’d show a lady a really, really good time.
I held a fist in the air as I left the clubhouse. It was still early, but there were women lining up, looking for fun. I had a bag of coke in my jacket pocket, a bunch of rolled joints, three bottles of tequila and a case of beer at my cr
ib, but tonight, I was going to be a good boy.
Tonight was Nana’s birthday.
I jumped on my ride and tore off, making sure to stop home to pick up the present I’d bought for her earlier. I’d had just enough time to swing by the fancy florist in town before they closed.
I headed to the skilled nursing home where my nana was living. I paid for every cent of her care, and it was expensive too. But she was worth it.
Because of the house I had bought her a few years back and all the money I’d sent her over the years, she didn’t quite qualify for low-income medical insurance. So it was all out of pocket.
It was a good place, though, and she liked it. And if she ever took a fall again, someone would be there to help her. I’d nearly lost my mind last year when she took a tumble and was too far from the phone to call for help.
If I hadn’t stopped by because of a weird, twitchy feeling in the back of my mind, well, she might have lain there overnight. She was alone on the bathroom floor for a couple of hours as it was.
I doubted I would ever forgive myself for those hours.
I parked in the lot and pulled off my helmet. I ran a comb through my hair too, just to be respectful. Thankfully, Nana had never objected to my leather and ripped denim, but she did tell me to comb my hair every time I forgot.
She never criticized me or called me a delinquent, even though I clearly was. A successful delinquent with my own shop, but still, I was not exactly a Boy Scout. Far from it.
I’d started acting out in school early. Even later, when I wised up about keeping my mouth shut, I was up to no good. I’d been chasing, and being chased, by girls and even women from the moment puberty hit. I was tall for my age and already had a bad attitude. Then I’d discovered drugs and alcohol. If I hadn’t learned how to use a tattoo gun, who knows what would have become of me?
If it weren’t for Nana, I know what would have happened. Nothing good, that’s for damn sure.
She’d loved me through all the bad times and the good. Now it was my turn. And damn if I wasn’t going to do my best to make her final years the sweetest.
I nodded to the lady at the front desk. She knew me. They all knew me here. I kissed the cheek of a white-haired lady who passed by on her walker. I was pretty sure her name was Eloise, but I couldn’t be sure.
She might smile like that at everyone, but it was such a sweet smile, so I always gave her a little kiss.
Nana’s door was open, signaling that she was open for visitors. I always had a moment of worry right before I walked in. Worry that she’d be hurt or lying on the floor. Or worse yet, that she’d be gone.
But she was there, sitting in her favorite easy chair with her feet up, her bed neatly made (by the staff, I suspected) and a cup of warm tea on the little side table we’d brought from home. Most of the stuff in here was hers. It was like a little time capsule of her house and her life.
There was even a photo of my parents together on one of their rare sober days.
“Hi, Nana.”
She used the side lever to lower her legs and waved me over.
“Get in here, you rascal.”
I bent down to give her a kiss and got my cheek squeezed for my troubles.
“Woman, how are you so strong?”
She giggled like a school girl.
“What do you have there?”
“This?” I held up the flowers and present. “This is for an adorable woman who lives here.” I pretended to look around. “If only I could find her.”
She swatted at me and cackled. But her eyes were shining as I handed over the gift and sat on the edge of her bed, holding the flowers.
She opened the gift and crowed when she saw it was the latest book from her favorite author. She loved murder mysteries. I had teased her for years for being so bloodthirsty. She’d even had a murder mystery book club for a while.
I’d never seen anything like it. Six sweet as pie, white-haired grannies sitting around and talking about gory murders. It was too funny.
“Oh, there you are! Come in, sweetheart.”
I turned my head in time to see a young woman tentatively waiting just outside the door. I saw dark, wavy hair, an exceptional figure, and the prettiest damn face I’d seen in my life. My entire life. She looked like a doll, with tawny skin and pink, luscious-looking lips.
But it was the huge, shy, deep blue eyes that caught and held my attention.
She was too pretty. Too sweet. Not to mention, she looked innocent and pure. Which instantly made me want to defile her, and not just once, like usual. Maybe four or five times, just for starters.
And just like that, my dick got hard. In a nursing home. Even worse, in the presence of my granny. I barely even noticed.
“Oh. I didn’t know you had a guest, Miss Bonnie. I’ll come back later.”
I was too dumbstruck to do more than stare. The woman—the girl—was . . .
She was perfect.
And she was leaving. I stared as she backed out of the room, taking her rolling tray of books with her.
“Now that’s the kind of girl you should be settling down with, my boy.”
My first thought was:
She can’t be real.
My second thought was:
She’s way too good for me.
But I didn’t say any of that out loud. Nana would have a fit if she heard me talking like that. She’d always told me I was as good as anyone else, and I agreed with her. Until now. That girl was . . . unearthly. She looked like a literal angel. I started praying that she had a gambling problem. A shoplifting addiction. A fault. Any fault. Anything that might put her remotely in my league.
I’d never gone out with a ‘good girl’. I’d imagined them to be high-maintenance, bad in bed, and full of annoying rules. But for the first time in my life, I didn’t care. I wanted the good girl, and I was going to get her, come hell or high water.
“What’s her name?”
Granny tilted her head to the side.
“Oh, shoot. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
I cleared my throat.
“I’ll be right back.”
She laughed and clapped her hands together.
“Go get her, Son!”
I ran down the hallway, looking around. I didn’t see her anywhere, and I wasn’t sure whom to ask. My heart sank. I was starting to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing. After twenty minutes, I was walking in circles, not willing to leave until I got her name.
And then I heard it.
Singing.
I knew it was her before I was even close. When I looked in the open doorway, I stopped, frozen in place. She was singing an old church song, something I hadn’t heard in years. A song that I’m sure I would have found dull if I’d heard it under any other circumstances.
She looked like an angel.
She sang like an angel.
And from the way she hovered over the young man laying immobile in that bed, she was literally an angel.
I was still standing there when she finished her song. She looked up and saw me, taking a tiny step backward. Dammit. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me.
I remembered how I looked suddenly, covered in tats and wearing leather. And she couldn’t even see all my piercings.
What was I doing? I must be insane. But that didn’t stop me.
Nothing could.
“What’s your name?”
“Me?”
I cracked a smile at that. Who else would I be talking to?
“Yes, you.”
“Molly. Are you Bonnie’s son?”
“Grandson. She raised me.”
“Oh. She’s a nice lady.”
“Yeah. She’s the best.”
I watched her nervously take the man’s hand. I frowned. Was that her . . . boyfriend? No, he was too young. And she worked here. Move on, Cal. A boyfriend wouldn’t matter. Only a husband might stop me from what I was planning.
Maybe.
I cleared my throa
t.
“I’m Callaway.”
She smiled but it wasn’t a very big smile. That was okay. I realized I was going to have to move slow. She wasn’t some club girl who was going to peel off her panties just because I snapped my fingers.
I almost moaned at the thought of this beauty docilely taking off her panties for me. I wondered suddenly what color they were. White, probably, I decided.
And just like that, white was my new favorite color.
“Do you work here? Or are you visiting?”
I nodded toward the young man on the bed. It seemed like an innocent question but she looked upset the moment the words left my lips.
“Both.” She swallowed. “I work here to help pay for Tommy.”
“Oh. You’re a good . . .”
I was about to say ‘friend’ but I needed to know. I let my words dangle, hoping she would fill in the blanks.
“Sister.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief. I was going to get this girl, and nothing would stop me. But even I would feel guilty taking her away from someone in a coma.
I wasn’t a total fucking monster.
I was willing to be, if it got me what I wanted, but I would feel bad about it.
“How long have you guys been here? I’ve never seen you before.”
I was grinning at her dopily. At least she didn’t look like she was going to run off anytime soon. Of course, I was kind of blocking the doorway.