Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  “There’s three options,” he said, “and that’s the worst one. We’re not buddies.”

  “What are we?”

  He leaned over the table picked up my plate. After setting it at the seat beside him, he looked right at me. “Lovers.”

  It wasn’t at all what I expected him to say, but the response satisfied me greatly. I smiled and took a seat at his side.

  I poked at my plate while he sampled the food. After a few forkfuls, he swallowed, paused, and looked at me. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “You can cook, girl. Damn.”

  “You like it?”

  “Hell yes, I like it.” He nodded toward my plate. “Come on. Dig in. It’ll get cold.”

  My gaze lingered on him for a moment. His face, for once, was shaved clean, revealing his strong jawline, and pronounced chin. He was a very handsome man, and it was hard for me to believe he was mine.

  In less than twenty-four hours, my life had transformed from a wish to a fairy tale.

  We ate our breakfast together. I struggled to pace myself to match his speed, so we’d finish at the same time. Afterward, we sipped our coffee while stealing glances at one another.

  “Got a question for you,” he said.

  I hugged my coffee cup with my palms. “Okay.”

  “We’ve got a poker run on Saturday. It’s a big one. Maybe thirty-five hundred people. Afterward, we’re having a party at Goose’s house. Probably be a hundred people there. I’d like for you to go. Can you get off work?”

  I had no idea what a poker run was, but I didn’t care. If it was with Reno, I wanted to do it.

  I needed to mentally prepare for it, though. “Is it legal?”

  He laughed. “It’s a fucking poker run.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  He slid his coffee cup to the side and leaned forward. “We start out at the Harley dealership. Three or four thousand people on motorcycles. We ride to five different spots, as a group. In each spot, we’re assigned a card from a deck of cards. When it’s over, the person with the best poker hand wins a prize. Each participant pays a hundred bucks to ride in it, and the money goes to charity. My club and Crip’s club organized this one. Money’s going to the Joyful Heart Foundation. It’s an organization that helps sexual assault victims get their lives back together.”

  I nearly choked on my emotions. Big bad tattooed bikers raising money for victims of sexual assault. Thirty-five hundred participants at a hundred dollars each would raise $350,000 for a cause well worth supporting.

  “I’m aware of the foundation,” I said. “I’d love to go, but there’s one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Marta and I trade shifts all the time, so I’m pretty sure she’ll take my shift. She can’t work later than about six o’clock, though. She’s divorced, and her ex is a jerk about keeping the kids later than that. So, I could go, but I’d have to work from six until ten. I could go to the party afterward, though. If you want me to.”

  “Want you to?” His eyes thinned. “Hell yes, I want you to. We’re in this together. A couple, remember?”

  I didn’t know what to expect. Angel never did anything with me. Ever. Being included in Reno’s life beyond the bedroom was going to be a nice change of pace. “Sorry,” I said jokingly. “I forgot.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” he reached for his cup of coffee. “That’ll work out. We ought to be back to SD by four. So, you can visit with all your girlfriends for a while at Goose’s party, and then I’ll take you to work. Just bring your work clothes with you.”

  I was excited to see all the girls again. Visiting with them was truly a treasure. “Is it Saturday, like in four days, or the Saturday after?”

  “This one. Four days from now.”

  “Okay, I’ll text Marta and set it up.”

  He sipped his coffee, all the while looking at me. I hadn’t showered yet and was self-conscious about how I looked without makeup.

  “What?” I reached for my messy bun. “My hair? I don’t have on makeup. I know, I look like a troll, don’t I?”

  “I was just looking at you. What? Am I gonna get in trouble for looking?”

  I chuckled. “No.”

  “That’s all I was doing,” he said. “I like looking at pretty things. You’re pretty.”

  I felt myself blush. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I glanced at him and then looked away. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” He laughed. “Being observant?”

  “No,” I said, meeting his gaze. “For expressing your observations.”

  “How’d you sleep last night?”

  “Really well. You?”

  “It’s funny,” he said. “Normally, I wake up a couple of times a night. I didn’t wake up last night, once. I was worried that I wouldn’t even be able to sleep. Kinda cool that it went so well.”

  I was almost too excited to sleep but was exhausted enough from the sex that it only took a moment to fall asleep.

  “Why did you think you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep?” I asked.

  “Never had anyone in the bed with me.”

  “Here?”

  He laughed. “Anywhere. Never had a woman in bed with me. Didn’t know what to expect. Went pretty good, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You’ve never slept with a woman?”

  “Slept?” he shook his head. “No. Never had a reason to.”

  “What did you think?”

  “Truthfully?” He sipped his coffee. “Hate to admit it, but I kind of liked it.”

  Being in a relationship with Reno was going to take some getting used to. Simple things like eating breakfast together, talking, and being truthful with one another about our feelings was all new to me.

  It sounded like it was equally new to him as well.

  I looked forward to enjoying everything our new relationship offered.

  Together.

  “I don’t mind admitting it at all,” I said. “I loved it.”

  186

  RENO

  Proud that the poker run was a huge success, and that the Devil’s Disciples played a part in organizing it, I held my head high as we entered the highway.

  Riding north out of Oceanside on our way to San Clemente, the motorcycles stretched for as far as the eye could see. Open to anyone on any style, make, or manufacturer’s motorcycle, the colorful line of chromed steel machines included everything from old-school Hondas to new Harley baggers.

  Each of the Filthy Fuckers in attendance that had an Ol’ Lady had her on the back of their bike. The Devil’s Disciples, short of Tito, had an Ol’ Lady on the back of theirs, too. In watching Tito enter the highway ahead of me, I felt a tinge of sorrow that he hadn’t found someone to at least attend the event with him, even if it was only for one day.

  The day was typical of Southern California in the late winter. Gorgeous, sunny, and no wind whatsoever. With the sun warming my back, and Carma’s hands resting against my hips, we headed up the highway at a pace slow enough to enjoy the view, and just fast enough to keep from falling over.

  The exhaust note from the three thousand motorcycles made a rumble that warmed my heart and caused the hair on my arms to stand on end.

  “You alright back there?” I asked.

  She pressed her chest against my back. “I’m perfect.”

  “Enjoy the ride,” I said. “It’ll speed up here pretty quick.”

  In no time we were two abreast at double-digit speeds suitable for highway travel. Passersby either stared straight ahead or gawked at the sight. Some took pictures.

  Others cringed.

  I’d been fascinated with motorcycles—and bikers—since childhood. Texas, like California, was suitable for riding a motorcycle year-round. As such, the weather lured men from some of the biggest—and most notorious—outlaw motorcycle clubs in the nation.

  Seeing the bikers traveling in groups, the riders’ faces plastered with a fuck you smirk, and hearing the deafening sound of the exhaust a
s they sped past left me feeling that there was no other place I’d love to be than on one of the magnificent machines.

  When I turned eighteen, I bought my first Harley. Since that day, it had been my primary mode of transportation.

  Therapy on two wheels.

  We stopped in San Clemente, at an apparel shop, to get our card punched. The twenty-minute ride took just over an hour.

  I swept the kickstand down and shut off the engine. “What did you think?”

  “About?”

  “The ride,” I said.

  “I loved it.” She scanned the parking lot. “We stop four more times?”

  “Yep. It’ll speed up a bit after this. Some of these guys will wait here for a bit before they take off. It’ll thin out into groups.”

  “I like the sound of it,” she said. “It’s, I don’t know, intimidating and calming at the same time.”

  I hung my helmet on the handlebars and took hers from her. “Better go with the girls to piss, we won’t stop again until Huntington Beach. Probably an hour.”

  She got off the bike, kissed me, and scurried away, joining Kimberly, Andy, Ally, and Peyton at the edge of the building.

  While they giggled and messed with their ponytails, I stepped to Baker’s side. “Weather’s perfect.”

  “Nice day for it, that’s for sure,” he replied as he strolled toward the building’s entrance. “How’s your girl holding up?”

  “Carma.” I gave him a look. “Her name’s Carma.”

  He chuckled. “How’s Carma holding up.”

  “She’s doing just fine. Doesn’t even need to piss. What’s funny?”

  “You’re funny.”

  “What about me’s funny?”

  “The fact you’re with a woman.”

  “Get used to it,” I said. “She ain’t going anywhere any time soon.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder. “Just hard getting used to it.”

  “Hard getting used to seeing you with Andy, too, but you don’t hear me talking shit and calling her your girl. I call her Andy.”

  “I’ll call her Carma from here on out.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  While I stood in the eternal line that led into the building, a hand slapped against my back, nearly knocking me into the man standing in front of me.

  “What’s shakin’, motherfucker?”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I straightened my stance. “What’s going on, Pee Bee?”

  He glanced around and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just waiting for this to thin out a bit. Not big on riding forty fucking miles an hour.”

  “We should stick around until it thins out,” Baker suggested.

  “I’m fine with that, just have to have Carma back to Chula Vista by six.”

  Pee Bee slapped me again. “I knew you’d end up with that chick the night we went in there,” Pee Bee said.

  Baker stepped out of line and looked me up and down.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” I asked.

  “Waiting for you to jump his ass,” he said. “He called her that chick.”

  “There’s a difference,” I said.

  “What? That’s he’s big, and I’m not? Afraid to say something to him because he’s big enough to tell you to go fuck yourself?”

  “I’m not afraid of this big prick,” I said. “If he stepped out of line, I’d put him in his place. There’s a difference between saying I’d end up with that chick and saying how’s your girl holding up.”

  “I don’t see what it is.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If he said, ‘that chick on the back of your bike on the way up here looked like she was having fun,’ I’d say, ‘she’s got a name, motherfucker.’ But, he didn’t. He was referring to her in a different context.”

  “You sound like Tito.”

  “I sound like I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I have no idea what you two fuckers are talking about,” Pee Bee said.

  “Talking about calling a man’s Ol’ Lady something other than her name,” I explained. “Something derogatory.”

  “You can call Tegan anything you want, as long as it’s not a bitch,” he said. “If you do that, it’s not me you’ll have to worry about. It’s her.”

  I’d heard the story about her kicking his ass on the porch and laughed at the thought.

  “I still don’t see the difference,” Baker said.

  “You don’t have to,” I explained. “She’s not your Ol’ Lady.”

  “Oh,” he said, stepping away and giving me a look. “Is she yours?”

  “She sure as fuck is,” I said, taking a look at her as I spoke. I grinned a prideful grin and repeated myself, just in case Baker was too thick-headed to hear me. “She sure as fuck is.”

  187

  CARMA

  The crowd was far from what I expected, but everything I’d hoped it might be. I feared fighting, guns being fired from time to time, and a knife or two being pulled to settle arguments that couldn’t be resolved though simple conversation.

  I was dead wrong. Despite there being enough testosterone present to wage a war, I had yet to witness so much as a disagreement between any of the men.

  In short, the men were respectful, and the women were very fun to be around.

  “I had no idea,” Joey said. “He never watches football. Ever. So, I was trying to watch Ellen, and this little thing came up, and it said, do you want to delete this recording? I clicked yes, because I was sure I recorded it by accident. Then, that night, he started screaming, ‘what the fuck happened to the game?’”

  Joey was P-Nut’s wife. She was young, adorable, and funny.

  “Oh, Lord,” Andy said. “Was he mad?”

  “Mad is an understatement,” Joey responded. “It was a playoff game between two teams, one of which he cares about. I guess it’s the only team he’ll watch, and they made the semi-finals or whatever they call it. He said he doesn’t even care about the Superbowl. Just that game. He wasn’t happy at all.”

  “What did he do?” Andy asked. “Go for a ride? When Baker gets mad, he takes off in his Porsche and hauls ass around corners for an hour. Then, when he comes home, everything’s fine.”

  “He grudge-fucked me,” Joey said with a laugh. “All in all, it was pretty good punishment.”

  “Bradley does that all the time,” Tegan said. “He thinks it’s punishment. Sometimes I make him mad just to get him to do it.”

  Bradley was Pee Bee’s real name. Considering Tegan’s size, I wondered what sex was like between them, because Pee Bee was a giant. Seeing them side by side looked awkward, but really anyone looked awkward standing beside Pee Bee.

  I glanced at Pee Bee, who was standing with the men, fifty feet away from us. I looked at Tegan. “Is he like…” I paused, not knowing how to continue. “Is sex with him normal? Can I ask that?”

  She laughed. “He’s abnormal in all respects. It works, though. What about Reno? He’s got a big attitude, just like Crip. I bet he’s pretty well endowed, huh?”

  “He’s just perfect,” I said. “Fits me like a glove.”

  “Baker’s average,” Andy said. “But he knows how to use it.”

  “Percy is pretty normal, I think,” Joey said. “Don’t really have anything to compare it to.”

  “Is that his name? Percy?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I like that,” I said.

  She smiled. “Me, too.”

  “Is Reno’s name Reno?” Tegan asked.

  I realized I didn’t know for sure. I shrugged. “I think so.”

  “What’s the weirdest sexual position you’ve ever been in?” Andy asked. “Or place? Either the weirdest position or place you’ve had sex?”

  “Percy and I did it on his motorcycle,” Joey said.

  “Ditto,” Tegan said.

  “Same,” Andy said. “And, in the window, looking out at the bar across the street in broad daylight.”

 
“What about you?” Andy asked, directing her question to me.

  Angel tied me to a post in the barn and fucked me with a dirty broomstick once to teach me a lesson. Although I expected that would win the prize for the weirdest sex, I was sure they didn’t want to hear about it.

  I was equally certain I didn’t want to relive the event.

  “I’m pretty inexperienced,” I said. “We did it on the sidewalk, in front of the restaurant though.”

  “That’s cool,” Andy said. “On the concrete? Like, on your back?”

  “No,” I replied, thinking of the night it happened. “He pressed me up against the glass and we did it standing up.”

  “I’ve never done it standing up,” Joey said. “Is it cool?”

  The afternoon sun was warm on my skin but thinking about Reno and I having sex that night was enough to make me uncomfortably hot.

  “It’s pretty awesome,” I replied. “Was for me, at least.”

  Andy raised her hand. “It’s awesome.”

  Tegan did the same. “I’ll agree. Standing up sex is awesome.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Reno!

  I nearly jumped from my skin. Immediately I felt guilty for talking about sidewalk sex.

  “Nothing,” I blurted. “Just talking.”

  “Ready to go?” he asked. “We need to get back and get this party set up.”

  I gave everyone a look that I hoped they understood. “Sure.”

  I bid farewell to the women and followed Reno across the parking lot. “Do men ever talk about sex?”

  He spit out a laugh. “Our women, our modes of transportation, the men who disrespect us. Those are the things we talk about the most.”

  “Do you tell stories about sex? Like sexual positions, and stuff?”

  He hesitated and faced me. “What’s with all the questions?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Yeah, we pretty much talk about it all. It’s just how men are, why? Do women talk about it, too?”

  “It appears so.”

  He laughed and then started walking again. “What did you offer?”

  I rushed to catch up. “Huh?”