Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1)

by Ryan Michele

  “I’m gonna need your help, Spook.” Needles handed me some wet gauze. Luckily, it was my left shoulder that hurt, and I was able to use my right. “Start getting all the blood off so I can get all the wounds cleaned.”

  The entire time I wiped Trixie, her eyes were shut tight, small drops of tears falling from the corners of them. She flinched a few times yet stayed solid. She didn’t protest when Needles gave her a shot, saying it would make her more comfortable, along with a tetanus shot. She hardly moved as he stitched all the cuts on her body, which took so long I had thought she’d fallen asleep from the medicine. However, when Needles’ gloves smacked as he took them off, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Done?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, Trixie.” I didn’t want to ask her this, but I had to. Needles needed to know everything. “Did …?” I choked a bit on my words and cleared my throat. “Did they … touch you?”

  “No,” she said in a sleepy voice. “Only the cuts and the bruises.”

  I brushed her hair back. “Good, baby.” I looked at Needles. “Anything else you need to do?”

  “No. Clean the wounds twice a day and add this cream.” He handed me a tube. “Then redress it. She’ll need sponge baths for a few days. Then she can do showers, but no baths, swimming, or hot tubs.” Like we were going to go out and run to the damn beach. Whatever. “I need to check you now.”

  “Where are you hurt?” Trixie whispered, the medicine obviously making her ultra-drowsy, her words slurring.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Okay.” She yawned and moments later, passed out.

  “Now let’s see what mess you’ve got yourself into, boy,” Needles said.

  After he twisted and turned my damn body, checking me out to the point I wanted to throat punch him, he said I had a strained muscle in my arm and shoulder. My ribs weren’t cracked, but bruised pretty good. He had me piss in a cup and determined that my kidneys were alright, but if I started pissing blood, I needed to call him. He gave me pain meds, along with Trixie’s. Trixie also got antibiotics.

  When he left, I stared down at the beautiful woman who I loved with everything inside of me.

  A slight knock sounded on the door, and Boner poked his head in. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, get a couple of the guys and help me change the sheets. Need to get the blood out of here.”

  He nodded as I wrapped a sheet around Trixie carefully.

  It only took moments to change the bed, and Trixie didn’t even stir as Stiff lifted her.

  "What about the girls?" I asked Boner, Stiff, and Dawg.

  “Stacy’s a fucking mess. Nanette, she’s scared to death, but appears to be okay.” Boner grabbed the back of his neck, a frustrated look crossing his face. “I sent Needles to check them out.”

  “Good. That’s good,” I said, looking down at my girl. “I need to rest.”

  “You got it,” Stiff said, taking one more look at Trixie’s sleeping form then left the room, the others following suit.

  I needed to touch her as I lay next to her, but I was afraid I’d rip open her wounds, so I grabbed her hand and held on tight.

  “WHERE ARE WE going?” Trixie asked as I held her hand, walking through the illuminated lot of the clubhouse. It had been five days since she was hurt, and I wanted to get her out of the house.

  “Surprise.” I told her, opening the car door for her.

  She gave me a soft smile, and I couldn’t help leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. Then she slowly sank down into the car seat, and I shut her door then ran around the car, hopping in the driver’s seat. I had everything we needed in the trunk, ready to go.

  Grabbing her hand, I held it the entire way, waiting for the moment when she would recognize where we were going. The streets were lit up by lights, and the pitch black night sky was calling to us. We wound around the roads that carried us higher and higher.

  “Oh, my God,” Trixie gasped, covering her mouth.

  I grinned.

  “You’re taking me to Hollow Point?”

  “Absolutely, baby.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “I thought we could see the stars.”

  I parked the car turning completely toward her, seeing a tear roll down her cheek. I lifted my finger, wiping it from her flesh. “Why the tears, Trixie?”

  Her gaze met mine. “This is absolutely perfect, Cade.” Her smile radiated.

  “I wanted to bring you to a place where my love for you began. You, me, looking up at the stars. You telling me all that shit about how stars are supposed to look like animals or whatever and me not giving a fuck about that, watching the animated look on your face while you told me, instead. Loving how your eyes lit up in excitement. I want you to show me the stars, Trixie,” I whispered, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on it.

  “Absolutely.”

  Four Months Later…

  I HAD NEVER been as terrified as I was that day in that cold room. Not until I saw Cade had I begun to relax. I drawn on his strength because I’d been losing so much of mine.

  When I told him I trusted him, I meant it with every fiber of my being. I loved him fifteen years ago, and I loved him in this moment.

  Now, Cade sat at my head while a man named Blade tattooed ink into my skin. The needles poked into my skin, the buzz of the machine echoing throughout the small, enclosed room. The pricks really didn’t hurt; I was pretty numb to it.

  The external wounds had healed, leaving two very disturbing words etched into my flesh. I had put the ointment on them just like the doctor said in hopes it would allow the cuts to heal without marking my skin. It didn’t work, and even though Cade said he didn’t give a shit, I did.

  There was no way I would be able to go through life, head held high, with those words from that dickhead etched into me, let alone have Cade see them every time I was naked in front of him. No. That wasn’t happening.

  Getting a tattoo never really crossed my mind over the years. I thought they were hot as hell on men and pretty sexy on some of my girls at Sirens, but never had I thought of doing it myself. Not until this.

  I’d been lying in his tattoo-covered arms when I came up with the idea. I got up from the bed that moment, grabbed my laptop, and began my search for ideas. Cade watched then joined me, holding me while I looked. It was the first time I felt like I was going to be okay.

  “You good?” Blade asked, looking up from his needle, and I heard Cade shift.

  “Yeah, keep going.”

  The buzzing started again, and I closed my eyes, letting this man wipe away the last physical reminders of that fateful night.

  I’d checked in on Nanette, who was living with a girlfriend of hers. Her outside wounds had healed, but her internal ones seemed to keep her on edge. Cade told me the Vipers offered to help Nanette, which she accepted. At this point, it was mostly monetary, but I’d talked to her about seeing a professional. Last time I’d talked to her, she’d said she would think about it. That was the best I could do.

  As far as Stacy, she’d disappeared one day, only to be found in a ditch off the highway a few days later. She’d never spoken to anyone, refusing to take any help from the Vipers. I hated to think about what had happened to her, and I was so damn sorry she’d had to go through it.

  Cade admitted he carried Lee and Stacy’s deaths on his shoulders. But like he’d told me, It’s part of the life, and I accepted that when I took the job as president. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t comfort him in hopes of relieving some of that weight.

  We all attended both of their services. Lee’s parents were utterly distraught, and I felt that guilt. If Lee hadn’t been with me that night, he’d still be alive. Cade told me to let him carry that load, but I’d never forget. Never forget either of them.

  Stacy’s service only consisted of the Vipers and myself. She had no family, and no friends had showed up. Sad didn’t even cut it. I hoped she’d found her peace.

  As
I looked into the mirror four and a half hours later, tears came to my eyes. In that moment, I didn’t give a shit if Blade or Cade saw me cry. No, because this moment was for me. The intricate design was outlined. It would take at least one more session, if not two, to get all the shading right.

  Along my stomach and rib cage, up past my breasts was a dazzling mix of roses, stems with thorns and leaves that all interconnected, making one large piece on my body. Not fully shaded, it still looked beautiful. I looked beautiful. For the first time in four months, I felt it. I felt me.

  I took back something that had been ripped from me. I erased it and survived it. I was alive and had a good man at my side. Happy didn’t even sound like a good enough word for me at the moment, but I was running with it.

  Cade stepped behind me, his chin coming to my shoulder. “You’ve always been the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” He kissed my shoulder.

  Shivers went down my spine, and a tingle started between my legs. My breathing picked up as I stared into Cade’s eyes.

  A snap of gloves in the room made me jump.

  “On that note, keep it clean and put this on it.” Blade handed me a tube of ointment. “And if you’re gonna fuck, make sure not to get his sweat or any friction on it. Be creative.” He winked at us both as he exited the room.

  “Creative, huh?” I said to Cade as I pulled the shirt over my bare body, sans bra because of the tattoo. I figured that was going to be my norm for a while, and I was totally fine with that.

  “I can do creative.” Cade grabbed me, consuming me with a kiss that I’d missed and never wanted to end again. I needed this, needed him.

  I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling him as close to me as I could.

  A cough came from the doorway, and we broke apart, looking at Blade who wore a wide smile on his face.

  “Next client’s comin’ in.”

  “Fuck,” Cade growled, grabbed my hand, and pulled us out the door then onto his bike, which I fucking loved riding, and took us home.

  *****BONUS MESSAGE FROM THE COLONEL******

  You hate me. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

  Always remember, looks can be deceiving.

  In The Red

  Devil’s Due MC Book 1

  ©2016 Chelsea Camaron

  The event that shook one small town to its core was never solved. The domino effect of one person’s crime going unpunished is beyond measure.

  He’s no saint.

  Dover ‘Collector’ Ragnes rides with only five brothers at his back. Nomads with no place to call home, they never stay in one place too long. Together, they are the Devil’s Due MC, and their only purpose is to serve justice their way for unsolved crimes everywhere they go.

  She’s not afraid to call herself a sinner.

  Emerson Flint still remembers the loss of her elementary school best friend. She is all grown up, but the memories still haunt her of the missing girl. Surrounding herself with men at the tattoo shop, she never questions her safety. Her life is her art. Her canvas is the skin of others.

  However, danger is at her door.

  Will Dover overcome the history he shares with Emerson in time? Will Emerson lead him to the retribution he has always sought?

  Love, hate, anger, and passion collide as the time comes, and the devil demands his due.

  Prologue

  I HANG MY head and sit in silence. The television blares as strangers move about our house. Some of them are trying to put together a search party, and others are here with food and attempts to comfort. I want them all to go away. I want to scream or break something. I want them all to stop looking at me like I should be beaten within an inch of my life then allowed to heal, only to get beaten again. Do I deserve that?

  Hell yes, I do, and more.

  There is no reprieve from the hell we are in. I would sell my soul to the Devil himself if I could turn back time. Only, I can’t.

  The reporter’s voice breaks through all of the clamor.

  “In local news tonight, a nine-year-old girl is missing, and authorities are asking for your help. Raleigh Ragnes was last seen by her seventeen-year-old brother. According to her parents, her brother was watching her afterschool when the child wandered outside and down the street on her pink and white bicycle with streamers on the handlebars.

  “She was last known to have her brown hair braided with a yellow ribbon tied at the bottom. She was in a yellow shirt and a black denim dress that went to her knees. She wore white Keds with two different color laces; one is pink, and one is purple.

  “There is a reward offered for any information leading to the successful return of Raleigh to her home. Any information is appreciated and can be given by calling the local sheriff’s department.”

  The television seems to screech on and on with other reports as if our world hasn’t just crumbled. My mom’s sobs only grow louder.

  God, I’m an ass. Raleigh was whining all afternoon about going to Emerson’s house. Those two are practically inseparable. She had made the trip numerous times to the Flint’s home at the end of the cul-de-sac, so I didn’t think twice about her leaving.

  Gretchen was here, locked in my room with me. My hand was just making it down her pants when I yelled at Raleigh through the door to just go, not wanting the distraction. My mind was only occupied with getting into Gretchen’s pants.

  Only, while I was making my way to home base, my little sister never made it to her friend’s house. None of us knew until dinner time arrived and my sister never came home. The phone call to Emerson’s sent us all into a tailspin.

  While other families watch the eleven o’clock news to simply be informed, for my family, my little sister is the news.

  ~Three weeks later ~

  The television screeches once again. I thought the world had crumbled before, but now it’s crushed and beyond repair. The reporter’s tone is not any different than if they were giving the local weather as the words they speak crash through my ears.

  “In local news tonight, the body of nine-year-old Raleigh Ragnes was found in a culvert pipe under Old Mill Road. Police are asking for anyone with any information to please come forward. The case is being treated as an open homicide.”

  In the matter of a month, my sister went from an innocent little girl to a case number, and in time, she will be nothing more than a file in a box. Everyone else may have called it cold and left it unsolved, but that’s not who I am.

  The domino effect of one person’s crime going unpunished is beyond measure.

  Chapter One

  ~Dover~

  GIVING UP IS not an option for me … It never has been.

  “There’s a time and a place to die, brother,” I say, scooping Trapper’s drunk ass up off the dirty floor of the bar with both my hands under his armpits. “This ain’t it.”

  It’s a hole in the wall joint, the kind we find in small towns everywhere. It’s a step above a shack on the outside, and the inside isn’t much better: one open room, linoleum floor from the eighties. The bar runs the length of the space with a pair of saloon-style swinging doors closing off the stock room. We have gotten shit-faced in nicer, and we have spent more than our fair share of time in worse.

  At the end of a long ride, a cold beer is a cold beer. Really, it doesn’t matter to us where it’s served as long as it has been on ice and is in a bottle.

  “I’m nowhere near dying,” he slurs, winking at the girl he has had on his lap for the last hour. She’s another no name come guzzler in a slew of many we find throughout every city, town, and stop we make. “In fact, I’m not far from showing sweet thing here a little piece of heaven.”

  “Trapper.” Judge, the calmest of us all, gets in his face. “She rode herself to oblivion until you fell off the stool. She’s done got hers, man. Time to get you outta here so you can have some quality time huggin’ Johnny tonight.”

  We all laugh as Trapper tries to shake me off. “Fuck all y’all. That pussy is mine toni
ght.”

  “Shithead, sober up. She’s off to the bathroom to snort another line, and she won’t be coming back for another ride on your thigh. Time to go, brother,” Rowdy says sternly.

  Trapper turns to the redheaded, six-foot, six-inch man of muscle and gives him a shit-eating grin. “Aw, Rowdy, are you gonna be my sober sister tonight?”

  I wrap my arm around Trapper, pulling him into a tight hold. “Shut your mouth now!”

  He holds up his hands in surrender, and we make our way out of the bar.

  Another night, another dive. Tomorrow is a new day and a new ride.

  Currently, we are in Leed, Alabama for a stop off. The green of the trees, the rough patches of the road—it all does nothing to bring any of us out of the haunting darkness we each carry.

  We’re nomads—no place to call home, and that’s how we like it. The six of us have been a club of our own creation for almost two years now. We all have a story to tell. We all have a reason we do what we do. None of us are noble or honorable. We strike in the most unlikely of places and times, all based on our own brand of rules and systems.

  Fuck the government. Fuck their laws. And damn sure fuck the judicial system.

  Once your name is tainted, no matter how good you are, you will never be clean in the eyes of society. I’m walking, talking, can’t sleep at night proof of it. Well, good fucking deal. I have learned society’s version of clean is everything I don’t ever want to be.

  The scum that blends into our communities and with our children, the cons that can run a game, they think they are untouchable. The number of crimes outnumber the crime fighters. The lines between law abiding and law breaking blur every day inside every precinct. I know, because I carried the badge and thought I could be a change in the world. Then I found out everything is just as corrupt for the people upholding the law as those breaking it.

  Day in and day out, watching cops run free who deserve to be behind bars more than the criminals they put away takes its toll. Everyone has a line in the sand, and once they cross it, they don’t turn back. I found mine, and I found the brotherhood in the Devil’s Due MC. Six guys who have all seen our own fair share of corruption in the justice system. Six guys who don’t give a fuck about the consequences.