Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  They’ll be at one with their animal brethren.

  “C’mon,” Bates mutters.

  He throws his arm over my shoulders as we walk toward the big glass doors of the attorney’s office.

  Walking inside of the building makes me all too aware that I am not dressed properly.

  Scotty would be furious if he knew I was out in public, let alone walking into a meeting wearing shorts and a tank top.

  I should care, I really should, but I don’t. I’m a mess from the inside out. I don’t have to pretend to be anything I’m not anymore.

  Maybe I’ll just allow myself to be a mess for a while.

  We walk up to the receptionist’s counter and the perfectly coifed woman behind it widens her eyes in surprise.

  She must not see bikers and disheveled homeless looking women in here too often. She opens her mouth to speak, but Bates is faster.

  “Here to see Stan Jones,” he grunts.

  She presses her red painted lips together with suspicion.

  “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Jones?” she asks.

  “Nope. But Brentlee Johnson does,” he says.

  “Brentlee Corbin,” I correct before I hear him grunt next to me.

  “I’ll call Mr. Jones and let him know you’re here,” she murmurs, picking up her phone.

  I step back from the desk and walk over to the reception area. I can’t sit down, I’ve been sitting in the car for hours, but I can’t stand still either.

  So, I pace.

  “Mr. Jones will see you now,” the receptionist calls out. Bates stands quickly, wrapping his hand around mine.

  “Calm down, tigritsa,” he rasps against my neck before placing a gentle kiss there.

  We walk toward the elevator and I hold my breath all the way up to the fifth floor. Once the doors open I see—Family Law—printed in bold letters on the wall.

  I never thought my life would come down to this. Hiding from an abusive piece of shit and visiting an attorney halfway across the state in secret.

  An older, clean cut gentleman with a neatly pressed suit is waiting as soon as we turn the corner. He has gray hair and kind, rich brown eyes. I watch as he smiles and brings his hand out to greet us.

  “Bates Lukin and Brentlee Corbin, I presume?”

  “Yes,” I say shakily, taking his hand.

  “Yup,” Bates grunts, lifting his chin. Mr. Jones just smiles before waving us back to his office.

  “Please, sit. Is there anything I can get you to drink before we get started?” he asks. I am taken aback by his kindness.

  The only attorneys I know are Scotty, his father, and their colleagues.

  Not one of them is approachable or kind.

  They are all intimidating, mean assholes with serious inferiority complexes. They also don’t think women have brains or rights. None of them.

  “No, thank you,” I answer for both of us and sit down.

  I want this meeting over with. I want the truth quick, fast, and in a hurry. Like a band aide. Just rip the fucker off.

  “Tell me the situation. I have to know it all before I can answer any questions or give any advice,” he says, getting straight to business.

  I like that. No fluff and no muss.

  I take a deep breath and exhale before I begin. It’s going to be ugly. I tell every single detail of my marriage to the attorney.

  The mental and physical abuse, the rapes, and then I tell him about his handling of Stella the day before I left.

  “Do you have any documentation of any of this to back you up? I believe you, but we need to show the judge some type of physical evidence,” he says. I nod.

  “I, uh, I had to go to the emergency room a few times,” I admit.

  “For? And which one, so I can subpoena the records.”

  I don’t look over to Bates. I can’t. He’s going to know the truth now, how disgusting I am.

  “Scotty…uh…He raped me anally one night and I bled, a lot. I also miscarried a baby when he beat me another time. I was twenty-weeks pregnant. The police came both times and filled out a report, but I was too scared to actually press charges. All of the other instances were small things, fractures and bruising that his family physician treated. I don’t think he kept records of it, though.”

  Mr. Jones gives me a sad look once he’s finished writing everything down, and then asks for a list of dates and times when all of these instances occurred.

  “I can’t remember all of them,” I confess.

  “Well, the big ones. Can you write down the big ones? Take tonight to think about it and then just drop it off to my office tomorrow before you leave town. I’ll get started on this immediately. In the meantime, I’m going to petition to have an emergency restraining order placed against Mr. Corbin,” he says.

  Relief floods my body.

  “What about custody? I don’t have a job, and I have no education,” I admit, embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry, honey. With the types of abuse you suffered, no judge in his right mind is going to place your little girl with him. If he gets any at all, it will be supervised.

  “But I’m pushing for you having sole custody and spousal support so that you can get an education and enter the workforce. It’s extremely common in cases where one parent stays home in the marriage. He’ll pay.”

  Mr. Jones’ eyes darken a bit and I bite back a gasp. Until now, he’s been so kind and gentle, understanding even.

  I see a darker side to him, a side he must not show often, and I’m glad he’ll be next to me in court, fighting for me.

  “Okay, I will have the list to you tomorrow. Thank you again, so much,” I gush as I stand and shake his hand.

  Bates shakes his hand as well but doesn’t say a word. He hasn’t the entire time, and I wonder if the truth disgusted him as much as I thought it would.

  At least now I know.

  It’s better that he finds out now the types of things that have been done to me. It’s better he knows just how weak I am, just how Scotty has destroyed me.

  He’ll never look at me the same again—and it’s all for the better. He needs to find a girl, a good girl, someone whose body hasn’t been used and abused since she was fifteen years old.

  In silence, we leave the attorney’s office. We ride the elevator down and pass the snooty receptionist on our way outside. I expect to see the SUV waiting for us, but it isn’t there. Bates doesn’t stop.

  His hand wraps around mine as he walks straight down the street. I try to pull back, but he’s on a mission. I blindly follow, unsure of our destination, but trusting him too much to worry.

  When we stop, it’s in front of a beautiful red bridge that has a walkway underneath it. I look around for the first time and am surprised to see that we are in a park. There’s even a pond.

  Bates doesn’t say a word as he sits down and rests his back against a tree. He tugs my hand and I follow suit, sitting right next to him.

  “He did all that shit to you, for years?” he asks, his voice low, deep, and gravelly.

  “He did,” I admit, unable to look at him.

  “Never again will a man touch you without your permission. Never again will a man lay his hand on you in anger. Never again will you feel fear like that, Brentlee. No wonder my tigritsa is hiding her claws,” he murmurs before he turns to face me. I gasp when his rough, calloused, palm cups my cheek. “No man will ever hurt you again, Brent. I fucking swear that shit to the depths of my goddamn soul.”

  I can’t speak.

  Tears stream down my cheeks and I wonder how in the hell this man is real.

  This rough man who is so fucking raw.

  He’s everything I could want. Any other woman on this planet would fall to her knees and suck his beautiful cock—just from his words alone.

  Any other woman but me.

  I’m too damaged to ever deserve this man.

  Too broken.

  Too grotesque.

  Chapter Six

  SNIPERr />
  Brentlee is crying, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Breaks my fuckin’ heart to see her upset. My vow to her was meant to be comforting, not make her cry.

  I wipe her tears away, but more just follow in their path. I don’t know how to comfort her.

  “Brent,” I murmur before I dip my head and press my lips to hers.

  The kiss is meant to be friendly, sweet—but it takes a turn as soon as our lips meet. I run my tongue across the seam of her lips as I wrap my hand around her tiny waist.

  She gasps in surprise and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue deep into her open mouth.

  Fuck she tastes good.

  Sweet.

  Just like I remember.

  I turn my body and plant my knee between her thighs as I guide her back down to the grass.

  The park is empty, not that I give a fuck. I do what I want, where I want, consequences and prying eyes be damned.

  I slide my hand underneath her oversized shirt and wrap my fingers around the cup of her bra before I yank it down, freeing her breast.

  “Bates,” she whispers as she throws her head back.

  Fuck.

  All that long, dark hair is splayed out around her head on the grass, and her eyes are closed.

  She looks like a goddamn dream.

  My fucking dreams come to life.

  I pinch her peaked nipple and tug as my lips devour her neck. She moans again and the sound goes straight to my dick.

  I’m so fucking hard for her, I think if she just touched my cock, I’d come. I feel her cool hands slide up my arms and then one of them tangles in my hair and grips me tightly.

  Making my scalp scream with pain.

  My tigritsa is back.

  I moan against her skin and then sink my teeth into her neck as my grip tightens on her hard nipple.

  I feel her warm pussy against the thigh of my jeans as she rubs against me.

  Fuck, my Brent—hot as ever.

  “No,” she whimpers as I continue to lick, suck, and nibble her neck, my fingers working her soft tit.

  “Brentlee,” I groan.

  Her body goes still and she pushes against my shoulder.

  “No, Bates,” she says more firmly.

  Her tone causes my head to snap up.

  “No?” I ask, not removing my hand from under her shirt.

  “No, I can’t. We can’t. Ever,” she mutters as her eyes fill with tears.

  “Why the fuck not?” I bark, harsher than intend as I remove myself from on top of her.

  I want her so damn much, it aches. Only two days into this and I can’t stay away from her. No way could I wait months to have her. She’s my woman and I’m going to have her.

  “How can you want me after everything I said in there?” she asks, backing away from me and sitting up.

  “It’ll always be you, Brentlee, my tigritsa,” I admit.

  I’m such a fucking pussy for this girl. She owns every piece of me.

  “All the things he’s done to me, Bates, how can you not be disgusted by me? How could you still stand to look at me, let alone touch me?” she asks. My eyes widen.

  He has beat her down, every single part of her. I thought she was coping okay.

  She’s been strong, and the way she confessed everything to the attorney, I thought she was good. She’s so far from good, it’s almost laughable.

  “You ask him to do any of that shit to you?” I bark.

  I watch with anger as she lowers her eyes at my roughness.

  “No, never,” she concedes.

  “Then that’s why I’m not disgusted by you. Nothing about you is disgusting, Brentlee. You’re beautiful, sexy, and sweet. One day soon, you’ll see it, too. I’ll help you with that,” I say before standing up.

  I hold my hand out to her. Hesitantly, she slips her hand in mine before she stands and then adjusts her tits back inside of her bra. I almost whimper, I wanted them in my mouth. I could practically taste them, too.

  “C’mon, everyone’s waiting,” I mumble as I tighten my fingers around her hand.

  I want her close. No, I need her close. If I can’t fuck her and claim her, then she’ll have me glued to her goddamn side until I make her completely mine.

  No way am I ever going to put her life or our future in jeopardy—ever.

  I spot the SUV waiting for us as soon as we make our way out of the park and onto the city sidewalk.

  Brent untangles her fingers from mine as she walks toward the backdoor.

  I let her.

  She needs to feel as though she’s in control of something, even something as small as this. I watch as she slides into the backseat of the car.

  Before she closes the door, her eyes focus on mine. I see so much hurt and sadness swirling in her pretty honey eyes.

  I want to take all of that away. I want to make her happy again. I want to kill that piece of shit for making her feel anything less than fucking perfect.

  BRENTLEE

  He sees too much.

  He wants me, even knowing the things that have been done to me.

  I don’t understand him at all.

  I try to push Bates out of my head, but it’s hard when he keeps touching me.

  Last night, it was all I could do to eat dinner before I passed out.

  Stella and I slept in one bed while Bates took the bed opposite us. I thought it would be strange, sleeping in the same room, but I felt oddly comfortable and safe.

  I knew that with him right next to me, nothing bad could happen to us. He wouldn’t ever let it.

  Now we’re at the zoo, and Bates won’t stop touching me. They aren’t sexual touches, just his hand on my lower back or running his thumb along my knuckles.

  Every single little touch makes me want him that much more. I want to climb his huge body and force him inside of me. I want more of his calloused fingers on my skin.

  I almost came yesterday just from his fingers on my nipples.

  “So, Pierce says you’ll be working at the clubhouse?” Kentlee asks with wide eyes.

  “Yeah, that should be interesting,” I say, not looking at Bates.

  He’s playing with the bottom of my hair as he talks to Fury.

  “Just…be prepared, okay? Crazy shit goes down there, Brent,” she warns, wrapping her hand around my forearm.

  I sigh, looking at the giraffe’s as they eat from a huge tree out in the middle of their habitat.

  Stella is standing right in front of me, her focus nowhere but on the animals in front of her.

  I run my fingers through her blonde curls before I turn my head to face my sister.

  “I’m not a naïve virgin, Kent. I’ve seen and done some shit. I doubt they’re going to do or say anything that I haven’t either done or seen before,” I admit, trying not to go into detail.

  “They have sex in public,” she says, scrunching up her nose. I almost laugh that she’s so disgusted by it.

  “Well, I didn’t think they were choir boys,” I admit.

  “It’s gross. Do you know how many of their dicks I’ve seen in action?” she asks before she sticks her tongue out and pretends to gag.

  “I’ll be fine, big sister,” I laugh as I lean my head down to rest against her shoulder.

  “Are you?” she asks. I know she isn’t talking about seeing all of the Notorious Devils’ dicks in action, she’s asking about me.

  Am I fine?

  No.

  Will I be?

  Probably not ever.

  My hell with Scotty is over but my hell without Bates is just beginning. He isn’t going to make rejecting him easy. I can already tell.

  I’m going to have to prove that I’m no good for him.

  Prove that he doesn’t really want me, that I am as disgusting as I’ve tried to explain to him more than once.

  Prove to him that he can do better than me. Prove to him that Scotty has ruined every piece of me.

  “Yeah, I am,” I lie.

  Kentlee doesn’t
say a word. Instead, her eyes narrow and I know that she can tell I’m lying. She’s always been able to see right through me.

  “Where’s Missy these days?” she asks, inquiring about my ex-best friend and my current sister-in-law.

  “Married,” I say with a shrug.

  Missy’s husband is as much of an asshole as mine, except he doesn’t abuse her quite like Scotty did me. No, Darren doesn’t hurt her with his fists or rape her.

  Instead, he withholds from her, all the things she loves. Money, freedom, and affection. I felt sorry for her for a while, when she would confide in me.

  Then, I became brave enough to tell her of my horrors. She called me a liar. She didn’t believe that her brother would do any of the things I told her about.

  I didn’t even explain the worst of the things he did to me, yet she didn’t believe a word. I had the bruises to prove it, too. She refused to believe it.

  That was truly the end of our friendship. I haven’t spoken to her in over four years. Not even at family gatherings. I keep my distance and she does the same.

  “You’re not close anymore, then?” Kentlee asks.

  I can tell she’s becoming frustrated with my one word answers.

  “She’s married to an asshole. He’s not as bad as Scotty, but he’s still abusive in his own right. I confessed a few truths to her about my own marriage and she called me a liar. She was the last friend I was allowed to have. I haven’t spoken to her in over four years,” I all but yell in annoyance.

  “Brent,” Bates’ low voice warns.

  “No, Bates, I was prodding when I shouldn’t have been,” my sister admits before she turns to me. “All that shit’s done and over with now, Brent. You have a big, huge, group of family and friends now. You’re never going to be alone again, no matter what.”

  I smile, like I should, and nod, as if I believe her. I don’t. I used to be popular. I was a mean girl in school, who slept around after Bates left.

  I’ve never had a true friend, someone I could count on through thick and thin. Only Kentlee and I am the one who didn’t support her.

  I’m the bad person here.

  I’ll always be that mean girl deep down. It’s as if it is part of me. Once my true colors and my true actions take over, Bates won’t want me and none of the men’s wives will want the clubhouse whore as their friend. Which is exactly what I’ll end up being.