Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  He stood and traced his finger over the words that were etched into the stone, taking time to feel the grain in the void of each letter.

  He reached into the left pocket of his tattered jeans and cupped a velvet box in his hand. As his fingers traced the last letter, he stepped away from the headstone and smiled.

  “Know that I love you, Baby.” He leaned forward, kissed the top of the stone, and then stood. “Know that I’ll always love you.”

  After turning away, he sauntered to his motorcycle, glancing over his shoulder twice before he reached the motorbike. After fastening the strap of his helmet, he straddled the seat.

  The motorcycle pulled away from the gravesite. Filled with love, and with promise, the rider maneuvered through the winding roads with expertise. His destination, on that morning, was a pie shop located two hours north of the gravesite.

  A reminiscence. One he believed would satisfy his soul.

  His thoughts, at that moment, were not of earthly possessions or happenings. His focus was on the heavens above, and of his love, who had joined the departed mere months prior.

  Three miles east, a man stumbled to his truck. Stained with the sour smell of the previous night’s sins, he entered the vehicle, dropped his keys, and swore the Lord’s name in vain when he couldn’t find them. A moment later, his hand passed over the fob.

  He grinned a drunken smile.

  The motorcycle, traveling perpendicular to the truck, gained speed. At slightly under the speed limit, his destination was two hours ahead. Cherishing each passing mile, he subconsciously whistled a tune while he sang the words in his head, recalling the day he kissed the departed for the first time.

  A smile formed on his face.

  Fumbling for his cigarette lighter, the truck driver moved his eyes away from the road, but only for an instant. In that instant, he traveled through an intersection clearly marked with a red traffic light.

  The truck entered the intersection at a blinding rate of speed. Despite the experience of the rider, nothing could be done to avert the collision. The front tire of the motorcycle hit the left front fender of the truck.

  The rider was cast from the motorbike, over the hood of the truck, and into the path of a speeding car.

  The truck came crashing to a stop against an adjacent light pole. The driver was ejected through the windshield, and onto the truck’s hood.

  Passersby stopped and rendered aid. The driver of the truck was deceased the moment his vehicle came to an abrupt stop. The rider of the motorcycle lay in the street, hanging onto a sliver of life and a ray of hope.

  In moments, the siren of a distant ambulance could be heard. Generous mortals who assisted the rider peered in the distance and gave their assurances.

  “Help,” they said. “Is on the way. Hold on.”

  The attendants cut off the rider’s clothes, braced his neck, and placed him on a flat polypropylene board. One searched his clothes for identification. In the left pocket of the blood-stained jeans, the attendant found a velvet box. In it, an engagement ring.

  The rider, clinging to life by a thread, lifted his bloody hand. “The ring,” he muttered through dry lips. “I need the ring.”

  Knowing not what to do, the attendant placed the ring in the rider’s hand, hoping it could provide the strength he needed to survive. At that instant, he made note of the inscription of the rider’s brass bracelet.

  “You can make it,” the attendant said to himself. “All you must do is believe.”

  He then slid the rider into the ambulance and closed the door.

  As the paramedics worked frantically to save the rider’s life, the ambulance sped toward the hospital. Moments later, the ambulance came to a stop at the emergency room entrance. The attendant opened the ambulance’s rear door. The two paramedics met the attendant’s gaze and shook their heads in unison.

  “We lost him,” one said. “It seemed he just let go.”

  The attendant opened the rider’s clenched hand. Much to his surprise, the ring was gone.

  “Where’s the ring?” he asked.

  The paramedic shrugged. “What ring?”

  The attendant looked at the rider’s right wrist, only to find it bare. “The bracelet?” he asked.

  The paramedic seemed puzzled. “It was there a moment ago, I swear.”

  The body of the rider was taken away. The ambulance was searched. Neither the bracelet, nor the ring were ever found.

  It is believed by many that upon their passing, the departed are delivered to their destination. At the rate of three hundred per hour, souls exit their earthly bodies. Some move on to the heavens above, while others meet an entirely different fate.

  On that day, at 9:17, an angel was delivered to the heaven’s above. On his right wrist he wore a brass bracelet. Cupped in his right hand, a velvet box bore a symbol of his love.

  Waiting cross-legged at the golden gates, holding a piece of pecan pie, was the woman he so dearly loved.

  Beyond the gates, beautiful trees lined the horizon. On them, low-hanging fruit clung to the branches, an offering from the heavens. Each piece of fruit gave assurance of one more tomorrow.

  And the trees went on forever.

  To any girl who was ever told,

  “you can’t because you’re a girl.”

  This one is for you.

  Because you “can”.

  Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION.

  All names, incidents, and occurrences in this book are a figment of the author’s imagination and are depicted in a work of fiction. Any likeness to fact is pure coincidence. The Devil’s Disciples MC depicted in this book are in no was affiliated with or associated with the Devils Disciples MC that exists in the real world. Different spelling, different club.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  GOOSE 1st Edition Copyright © 2018 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at designconceptswichita@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover design by Jessica Hildreth

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  PROLOGUE

  The smell of leather, rain-soaked polyester and sadness melded together. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, hoping to rid myself of the foul taste that had plagued me since walking through the ornate double doors, but had no such luck.

  Prior to his death, I hadn’t given dying much thought. Now, the subject consumed me. Not simple things like wondering when it would happen or how to draft my will. I questioned whether living without him was even a possibility.

  I felt that a little of me was dying with each pronounced click of my watch’s second hand.

  I gazed blankly at his casket. Regret enveloped me. Suffocating, I forced myself to breathe. Each spoken word of the eulogy sliced through the surface of my skin like a razor. I scanned the sea of navy, black, and gray, hoping for a means of relief.

  Amidst the grief-stricken faces in the pew across from me, a pouty set of ruby-red lips provided just that.

  Relief.

  The creamy white color of her skin replaced the harsh reality of the truth. Completely paralyzed by her angelic beauty, I stared. I wondered if I reached out to touch her if she’d simply vanish.
<
br />   Her pale blue eyes mimicked the clearest of Montana skies. A few ringlets of her curly auburn hair trickled over the front of her shoulders, the tips teasing the hint of cleavage exposed by the neckline of her sleek black dress.

  Her appearance was seductive, yet a child-like innocence seemed to encompass her being. I studied her as she did the same with me. Although simplistic and natural, her beauty defied description.

  Her full lips parted ever so slightly. Beaming with the same fiery desire that drove my lust-filled stare, she held my gaze.

  She tilted her head toward the entrance and raised her brows playfully.

  I gave a reassuring nod.

  While those seated at her side listened intently to the eulogy, she inched her way past them, toward the end of the pew.

  I stood and did the same.

  The kindly spoken words of praise echoed behind me as I followed her toward a door in the distance. Upon passing through it and into a darkened corridor, I all but came crashing into her. I steadied myself and took a step back.

  Her innocence was gone.

  Wearing a seductive smirk, she leaned toward me. As the space between us vanished, I swallowed heavily. I had no idea who she was.

  I didn’t care.

  I studied her eyes. They gleamed with life. Happiness. Joy. I swam in their suggestions. She unzipped my fly. I narrowed my gaze. She slipped her hand into my pants.

  I exhaled an unsteady breath.

  Her cold hand gripped my swollen shaft. The flesh-on-flesh contact stripped me of any ability to conceal my desires.

  I yanked her dress past her shoulders, taking her bra with it as my hands slid past. Her perfect tits sprung free of the sparse black cups. Nipples as hard as diamonds confirmed her state of arousal mirrored mine.

  A fiery urgency surged through my veins. I sank my fingertips deep into her flesh. Firmly, I squeezed her breast, teasing the nipple with the pad of my thumb. My mouth quickly found the other, sucking and biting with such vigor that we came crashing into the wall.

  The breath shot from her lungs. Our eyes met. Seemingly unaffected by my savage advance, she held my gaze. Her eyes said what she was obviously afraid to.

  My palm raced the length of her inner thigh, taking the hem of her dress with it in the process. My knuckles slammed to a stop against the thin wet fabric that separated me from fulfilling my desire.

  My dick twitched in her hand.

  Her eyes fluttered, and then fell closed.

  In one sharp tug, I pulled her panties to mid-thigh. I held her crumpled dress against her waist and lowered myself to my knees. While I studied the perfection of her naked lower half, I released her breast from my grasp and reached for the crimson lace.

  Clutching her panties in my fist, I touched my nose to her skin and drew a slow breath. She smelled like an array of flowers, each of which gave off its own crisp aroma. A hint of gardenias, peonies, and orange blossoms tickled my senses.

  Driven by a desire entrenched deep within my soul, I licked her sweet-tasting pussy with a fervor unmatched by anything I’d experienced in my thirty-two years.

  I circled her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue. The stone corridor filled with the soft sound of her moans.

  I slid a finger into her with ease. I added another. Her moans deepened. Flicking my tongue against her swollen nub, I jacked my fingers wildly, sucking and licking as I fingered her into a frenzy. After bringing her to near climax, I leaned away.

  Kneeling before her with my face covered in her pleasure, I gazed upward.

  She peered into my eyes. Her face was painted with desire.

  Incapable of waiting another second to feel myself inside her, I turned her to face the wall and shoved her against it. I pushed my slacks to mid-thigh and pressed my hips against her bare ass. With my throbbing cock in my fist, I guided the tip against her wet folds. Then, in one animalistic shove, I sank my entire length deep within her.

  An unsteady breath escaped her.

  I gripped her waist firmly. With my chest against her back and the side of my face pressed to hers, I pounded myself into her tight confines. With each emotional thrust, her feet lifted from the floor.

  The fragrance of jasmine permeated from her skin.

  With every powerful stroke, a grunt catapulted from my lungs. Each carried with it an ounce of the frustration that was bottled within me. Hoping to cleanse myself of everything the grief of his death brought with it, I fucked her as if she would be my last.

  My hips slammed into her, forcing her against the wall again, and again. She gave no objection, accepting my forceful offering without complaint.

  Completely lost in the euphoria of mind-numbing sex, I closed my eyes and continued. The walls of her vagina tightening around my shaft snatched me from my dream-like state. The sound of the muffled voice from the adjacent room was replaced by her moaning.

  A sense of erotic satisfaction inched its way into the void left in my heart by my brother’s absence. Soon, it encompassed me, filling my wounds completely. Driven in part by her willingness to comply and partially by her undeniable beauty, my strokes became rhythmic and predictable.

  My cock swelled. She moaned deeply. I pushed my entire length into her and held my position firmly. She arched her back and opened her mouth wide. Her pleasure echoed along the surface of the stone walls, carrying with it the threat of exposure.

  I stuffed her panties into her open mouth, muffling her from making another decipherable sound.

  Her muted groans continued as I pumped my pleasure into her. As the last drop shot from the tip of my satisfied cock, her body shuddered, and then relaxed.

  She was exactly what I needed. Satisfied beyond words, I situated myself, brushed the wrinkles from my slacks, and reached for the door’s brass handle.

  Door handle in hand, I admired her. A sense of satisfaction washed over me knowing that I was the one who took her from primped perfection to a half-dressed disheveled beauty.

  “Brother Goose…” A hand gripped me firmly. “Brother Goose. You’re up.”

  I blinked. Somewhat confused as to what had or hadn’t transpired, I glanced over my shoulder. With unkempt hair and a flush face, she was in her seat with her blue eyes fixed on me.

  I offered a muted smile.

  She looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Even so, she managed to smile in return.

  I stumbled to the stage and scanned the crowd. Although all had come from different walks of life, one common thread was woven between each of us.

  Porter “Ghost” Reeves had touched our lives.

  “I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t already been said.” I chuckled a false laugh, almost bringing myself to tears in the process. “But I’ll do my best.”

  I gripped the sides of the lectern and focused on the pale-skinned beauty. “Upon receiving the guidance of someone who loved him unconditionally, Porter Reeves found faith late in life. Nonetheless, the faith he possessed was heartfelt, and genuine.”

  She clasped her hands together. The corners of her mouth turned upward, just enough to notice. The words came easier than I expected.

  “He left this earth early, leaving behind five loving brothers, countless friends, and many other lives touched by his simple smile, an act of kindness, or the lending of a helping hand. He may be gone, but the memories left in his life’s wake will be forever etched into our minds.”

  I alternated glances between the faces of those who were seated before me. “He was that type of person. A man, who through his words or his actions, left a lasting impression with each of us. When he exited the room, an undeniable void remained. One that could only be filled when we were graced by his presence once again.”

  “I, like many of you, will wander this earth for my remaining days with a cavity in my heart. A void, if you will, created by Porter’s absence. His presence will be missed, but his memories will live in my mind’s eye forever.”

  I clenched my fists
and gazed at the ceiling.

  I love you, my brother.

  Lost in the recollection of a funeral I’d attended mere months before, I shuffled to my seat. One by one, the remaining members of the club took their position in front of the crowd, each offering a respectful tribute to our brother.

  I heard little of what was presented, choosing to mentally place myself on a ride along the PCH with the ocean at my side for as far as the eye could see.

  “Come on, Brother.” Baker tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward the aisle. “Let us out.”

  My eyes came into focus. In a mind-numbing daze, I stood and stepped aside. The remaining members of our club filed past me and into the aisle. I gazed blankly at the throngs of saddened souls as they made their way to the exit. They’d return to their respective lives before the sun set.

  I wondered if a day would come when I could do the same.

  Someone brushed against me. A wisp of jasmine tickled my senses. I lifted my head and scanned the departing crowd, hoping for a glimpse of the blue-eyed beauty.

  I stopped on the church’s stoop beside my remaining brothers. The sweet smell of a winter rain shower lingered. I searched the crowd. Disappointed that I couldn’t find her, I reached in my jacket pocket for the keys to my only hope of salvation. I desperately needed a ride along the coast.

  Instead of keys, the tips of my fingers found delicate lace. Befuddled, I pulled the material from my pocket.

  A pair of red lace panties dangled from my fingertips.

  Cash coughed out a laugh. “Knock off a piece of ass before you came?”

  Intently searching through the sea of those in mourning, I paid little attention to his comment. I hadn’t been with another woman since my divorce. Other than me, the only one who knew about my near celibate status was Ghost.