Fighter: The Devil's Highwaymen Nomads #4

by Claire C. Riley

  FIGHTER #4

  The Devil’s Highwaymen Nomads

  By

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Claire C. Riley

  Fighter

  Copyright © 2019

  Written by Claire C. Riley

  Edited by Amy Jackson—seriously awesome badass!

  Cover Design by Eli Constant of Wilde Book Designs—also an awesome badass!

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or have been used with that person’s permission.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work that went into producing this book and for purchasing it from a reputable place and not stealing it like a seriously un-cool pirate!

  About the book

  FIGHTER #4

  The Devil’s Highwaymen Nomads

  Could prey and predator ever be anything more?

  Fighter…

  The club was my family, my blood, my entire world. They were the only thing I cared about…until her.

  Until Penny.

  I was a soldier for the Devil’s Highwaymen, and Penny was a job—an order from my president: take the girl and keep her hidden until it was time to give her back. Only as the days went on, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give the fiery little brunette back.

  With a mane of long dark hair, golden wolf eyes, and a sassy mouth that spat poison at me every time she opened it, she needed to learn my rules, and quick.

  Penny was a wild woman, and all I could think about doing was taming her.

  Penny…

  He was brutish and stubborn, moody and single-minded, and he’d protect his club at all costs. He’d do anything they ordered him to do, a machine in a man’s body clad in dark leather and a roguish smile.

  And now he had a single focus…me.

  I hated him and everything he stood for and wanted nothing but to be away from him. But as the hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks, I began to feel something I’d never felt before…

  A craving for his brutal touch and his rough kisses.

  Fighter was the monster in the dark, and I was his willing victim.

  The series so far:

  The Devils Highwaymen Series

  Crank #1 OUT NOW!

  Sketch #2 OUT NOW!

  Battle #3 OUT NOW!

  Fighter #4 OUT NOW!

  Cowboy #5 COMING SOON!

  https://amzn.to/2LhuKwC

  Ride or Die: The Devils Highwaymen

  Ride or Die #1 OUT NOW!

  Ride or Die #2 OUT NOW!

  Ride or Die #3 COMING SOON!

  https://amzn.to/32daph4

  Fighter Playlist

  Stealth – Intro

  Lawrence Taylor – Bang Bang

  Greta Van Fleet – Highway Tune

  Rob Bailey & The Hustle Standard - Beast

  Dorothy – Wicked Ones

  Sam Fender – Hypersonic Missiles

  Imagine Dragons – Thunder

  Billie Eilish – Bad Guy

  Lynyrd Skynyrd – Simple Man

  Dum Dum Girls – Coming Down

  Jamie N Commons – Walls

  Khalid – Talk

  Kina (feat Snow) – Get You the Moon

  Houses – A Quiet Darkness

  Warpaint – Billie Holiday

  Paul Weller – Wild Wood

  Stealth – I Don’t Need Your Love

  The Blue Stones – Rolling with the Punches

  Shinedown – DEVIL

  Stealth – Judgment Day

  Dawn Golden – All I Want

  Aron Wright – Look After You

  Available on Apple Music and Spotify

  FIGHTER #4

  The Devil’s Highwaymen Nomads

  By

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Claire C. Riley

  Love will always find a way.

  Also…

  for Julie,

  I hope Fighter is everything you wanted him to be and more.

  ~ 1 ~

  Fighter

  I stared at her, taking in the soft lines of her features. Her golden wolf eyes and fuck-me lips. The delicate curve of her jawline and the slender fingers that tucked her mane of long dark hair behind her elfish ears.

  “Well?” Gauge’s rough voice cut through my concentration and I dropped the photo back onto the table. I glanced between him and Hardy, my expression neutral.

  “You got it?” Hardy asked. As usual, his hard scowl was in place. His eyebrows pulled in so much they were almost connected, the deep lines of his face prominent and casting dark shadows and sharp angles. There was an ugly growing within him, and it was reflected on the outside. Brother was not himself lately. But this was work and who was I to question his leadership.

  “What do you need?” I replied. Because of course I was in. I was always in. No matter the job. No matter the sacrifice. This club, these men, they were my family and I’d do whatever needed doing to protect my brothers, family, my president.

  “Need you to pick her up and take her to the safe house. Keep her there until I say so,” Hardy gritted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Father’s been a pain in my ass for long enough. It’s time the Highwaymen put some heat on him to back the fuck off our territory.”

  “Damn straight,” Gauge agreed. “That motherfucker’s seen us as the competition for the last time.”

  “Competition?” I asked, cocking my head to one side. My gaze dropped to the picture of the woman again, wondering who she was exactly. The club didn’t normally involve civilians; they were out of bounds when it came to club business. The woman—no, girl—looked familiar. She was young, could barely be nineteen if I wasn’t mistaken, but there was something else about the girl in the photo that kept me dragging my hard gaze back to her.

  Gauge pushed some papers toward me and I unfolded them and read the address on it, committing it to memory. “She’s the princess of the Vipers MC.”

  Now it all made sense and I nodded, deep in thought.

  The Vipers MC was run by Razuuk Benite, our biggest arms competitor and one serious motherfucker. He held serious weight with the Reverend, and other clubs, and had been trying to edge out the Highwaymen for the past two years. It seemed he’d taken it to a whole new level just recently, and Hardy wasn’t taking to it lightly.

  “When can you get it done?” Hardy asked, his hands balled into fists on top of the table like he was on the verge of breaking something. Man seemed tense as hell. “We can’t have no fuckups with this one.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do I fuck up?”

  He snorted out an angry sigh in response.

  “Need a couple of days to check everything out,” I continued.

  Hardy nodded and leaned back in his chair. Still seemed tense as fuck, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to dive out of his chair and start Hulk-smashing shit up.

  “Let us know the time and day and I’ll make sure her father’s men are somewhat indisposed,” Gauge said with dark glee. “Casa will sort the cameras. Should be easy pickings.” He snorted on a laugh.

  “She’ll be alone?” I asked, because it seemed crazy to me that a woman like that would be alone. Alone meant single, and women like her were never single.

&
nbsp; “She’s normally followed by a couple of Vipers. Father has her under lock and key at all times,” Hardy said. “We’ll have it covered.”

  Gauge laughed again. “That ain’t the half of it.” I cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed again. “Bitch is feral. Don’t take shit from anyone. Black belt in karate or some shit too.”

  “It’s yoga, you fuckin’ idiot,” Hardy snapped, and Gauge looked at him and shrugged.

  “Same difference.”

  Hardy glared at him. “Same difference? You been sampling the product again? Yoga ain’t nothin’ like karate,” Hardy barked, turning his attention back to me, his scowl deepening. “But she is a Beniz so that means she is feral. I swear to God they must have spiked that bloodline with someone because they’re all fucked in the head.” He shook his head. “I trust you to get this done, Fighter. You’re the coldest motherfucker in this clubhouse. You’re good at keeping your mouth shut, your head down, and your hands bloody. And that’s exactly what I need right now. You know we don’t normally involve innocents, but this shit is important, and it’s the only damn way to hit this fucker where it hurts and show him who runs these streets. He’ll let anyone go to ground for him. He’s got no ties. He’s got unlimited resources, and worse, he’s got the Reverend in his pocket. So I need this done, with no fuckups, because this is the only way I can think of to get him to step in motherfucking line.”

  I nodded and Hardy glanced across at Gauge.

  “I know shit’s been hard without Battle, but we’ve got to move on.” Hardy looked back at me, his jaw twitching. “I told you I’d deal with the situation, and I will, but first things first.”

  I felt my anger spike at the mention of Battle’s name.

  He’d left with his woman a week after Ripped’s body was put in the ground and threats of vengeance had promised to follow him into the club if he didn’t get out of town. Shit was fucked up, but Gauge promised me it was being dealt with. Battle would be back here where he belonged, with his family, soon enough. We just had to be patient. But I’d been patient and so had Battle, and nothing had come of it yet.

  “You listenin’ to me?” Hardy growled out, slamming his fist on the table in front of him, his anger resurfacing.

  Man had always been a moody son of a bitch, but he’d taken it to a whole new level recently. Something was coming. I could feel it in my veins, and I was guessing that Hardy could feel it too.

  “I’m listenin’,” I replied, pulling a joint out of my top pocket and lighting it. “Grab the girl. Casa will knock out the cameras. She’ll be alone, but she’s a wild one. Keep everything on the down-low. Got it.” I picked the picture back up and let my eyes graze over her face again. She was looking at someone off camera, her eyes glaring at whoever it was and her jaw looking tight. She was pretty, no doubt, but not my type. I liked my women more…pliable to my needs, and this bitch looked like she would tear me to pieces given half the chance.

  Still, she could have been fun to break. She would have been a challenge, if nothing else. Life had other plans for us though. Another time, another world, another life, perhaps. But not this one, that was for damn certain.

  “I’ve made this as easy as I fuckin’ could for you, so no screwups or there’ll be consequences,” Hardy continued, his tone dark.

  I looked up from the picture in front of me and scowled at him. “What did you just say to me?” I replied, not happy about the threat.

  No one threatened me.

  No one.

  Not even my president.

  Hardy’s nostrils flared as he stood up slowly, his chair scraping along the old wooden floor of the chapel. He pressed his hands into the table in front of him as he leaned forward and stared at me. “I said, there’ll be consequences if shit goes south. For you, for her, for your brothers, for this club. Razuuk finds out we did this and he’ll come down on the club like the Devil himself. But if all goes to plan, we’ll be swooping in and saving the day. Pinning this shit on another club and putting the Vipers in our back pockets. So like I said, no fuckups.”

  I stood up, picking up the photo and shoving it in the top pocket of my cut. “There won’t be any fuckups.” I turned and headed to the door before looking back in at Hardy and Gauge. I wondered how much of this plan the rest of the club knew. Rider sure as shit wouldn’t be happy about involving civilians in this war, and there was no way in hell Butch would have agreed to it. Yet Hardy and Gauge had decided to go ahead anyway, plowing on without getting anyone else’s opinion.

  That should have rung alarm bells.

  But I was a soldier and these were my orders, and I’d follow them to the letter regardless, putting my trust in my president that he wouldn’t throw me under the bus if shit went wrong.

  “You got somethin’ to say?” Gauge asked, sitting back down in his chair, his hand running over his short beard.

  I shook my head no, and he smiled because he knew I was lying. I just needed to keep my mouth shut, because this was a job; a direct order from my president. I had no choice in whether I did it or not. But even if I did, I wouldn’t have backed away from it.

  “Don’t damage her,” Hardy said with a dark smile that was anything but happy. “She needs to go back to daddy dearest in one piece and I know what a sick fuck you can be, brother. Play, but don’t mark. Got it?”

  I nodded and left, weaving my way through the busy clubhouse.

  “Fighter?”

  I turned at the sound of my name, spotting Jesse and Skinny talking at the bar. Skinny was still fucked up after what went down with Battle and Quinn. She’d managed to get most of the bullets out of Skinny and Battle had carved the final one out without popping anything too important, but he was messed up: tremors in his hands and constant pain in his spine. The doctor the club used said it was nerve damage, that he was lucky to be alive at all, because everyone of those goddamned bullets had missed the important stuff, but Skinny didn’t see it that way. And neither did I.

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “Brother,” I grunted.

  He nodded. “Just telling the boy here what it feels like to be shot.”

  “Why the fuck you doin’ that?”

  “The boy wants to know.”

  I glanced across at Jesse. He’d lived in the clubhouse since he was just a little thing barely reaching his father’s knee. He was only a couple of years younger than me, but those years made all the difference in this life. He was a little shit growing up, always up in everyone’s business, but he was a good kid with a good fuckin’ heart. Between Butch and him, one day the club was going to be in damned good hands.

  “That true?” I asked, and Jesse nodded. I pulled a joint from behind my ear and lit it, taking a hit before handing it to him. “Why you askin’?”

  “Figured one day this life was going to get me shot,” he said around a mouthful of smoke. “Thought it’d be good to get the heads-up on it.”

  I looked at Skinny, who shrugged. “Told him that shit was dark. Too dark for him to be thinking about.” Skinny took a sip of his beer. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking with the meds he was on, but by the way his hand was shaking I was guessing that the pain must have been bad that day.

  “He’s got a point though,” I said, taking the joint back. I couldn’t fault the logic, no matter how dark it was. I still remembered my first gunshot and I remembered wishing someone had warned me of the pain.

  “Only idiots get shot,” Skinny bit out.

  “You callin’ yourself an idiot?” Jesse smirked, tucking his long hair behind his ears.

  “Must be to have ended up like this. Trusted the wrong person and look where it got me.” He picked up his beer again, his hand shaking so much that he spilled some of it on his lap. “Fuck!” He slid off his stool and headed toward the bathroom cursing the whole way.

  I glanced at Jesse, whose brow was furrowed as he watched Skinny walk away. He finally looked back at me.

  “Still no leads?” he asked, all serious.

&nb
sp; I shook my head.

  No. There were still no leads on who had shot Skinny. Still no leads on who the fuck had turned up at the safe house and tried to take out Quinn. Still no leads on who she’d shot in return, saving the lives of herself and Skinny. It made no goddamned sense how there were no leads, but it was the way it was.

  “It ain’t right. Why’s he not doing more about it?” Jesse gritted out, angry.

  I got it—I even understood his anger. We were all angry. The only person who could have known where Quinn was going to be that night was one of our brothers, someone within our own club. And yet we were two months on and still no closer to finding out who it was.

  Jesse was staring past me, his narrowed eyes on the door to the church where Hardy—his father, and the president of our club—was.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “He’s dealing with it.”

  “Is he though? The same way he dealt with what happened to Battle? Threats against our brothers, our women, and he doesn’t do shit?” he snarled. He cracked his knuckles on his lap, his hard gaze still on the church. “He’s just going about business as usual.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I said, and his gaze shot to mine. “That’s your president you’re talking about. You’re new to this, so I’ll take it in my stride, but son or not, Hardy will gut you if you try to undermine him.” I looked over my shoulder toward the church door as Gauge came out. “The mood he’s been in recently, he’d gut any one of us.”

  “Probably gut me just for being his son,” Jesse replied darkly.

  It was no secret that Hardy didn’t get along with Jesse, though no one really knew why. Kid was headstrong, smart, loyal—all the traits the Highwaymen respected. But he’d been fighting his whole life for his father’s respect. I think he’d hoped that once he patched in to the club he’d get that respect, but if anything, things had gotten worse between the two.