Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  All of my clothes are neatly packed and ready for the movers to load up and drive to Shasta. I don’t know when I’ll have the opportunity to wear my designer clothes much, but I don’t really care. I’m more comfortable in jeans and t-shirts, anyway. I always have been.

  “Movers are here, Genny,” Sloane calls out. I hurry downstairs.

  There are a few men standing around, big and broad, looking at my home in surprise. I don’t have much packed, because I honestly didn’t accumulate much in the past three years.

  “The furniture all stays. The only things going are the boxes, and they’re all ready to load up,” I instruct. Their eyes widen even further in surprise.

  Once they get the rest of their instructions from Sloane on when and where to drive the truck after they’re finished, I notice the limousine pulling up, and then a couple of bikes behind it.

  “Mammoth and Roach are going to stay here with the movers until they’re finished,” Sloane informs me.

  I grab the small bag that’s packed by the front door. It’s a change of clothes for the ride home. Sloane hasn’t left me for one second since his father died and we decided to get completely and totally back together.

  That also means that I’ll be following behind his bike in my car, since he hasn’t been back to Shasta to drop it off.

  “Ready?” he asks. I nod jerkily. “You okay?” His brow furrows as he looks at me with concern, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.

  I know I’m not doing the safest thing. My heart is definitely on the line, again. I turn around and look at my house, my home for the past three years, and yet, it’s not a home at all.

  There aren’t any special personal touches, and no good or bad memories were made here. This was a place I slept, but I never lived here.

  “Yeah, I am,” I admit with a nod.

  He takes my bag and walks over to my garage, punching in the buttons that automatically raise it. He then clicks my trunk open button and tosses my bag inside before he closes everything back up. Together, we walk toward the limo.

  After he opens the door for me, I slide inside and am met with not only Kalli and Kipling but my parents as well. I blink in surprise, and my mother rolls her eyes at me before my father speaks.

  “We’re a family. We show as a united front no matter the circumstance,” my father says. “Since it appears as though you aren’t going through with a divorce from him, we’re to remain family.”

  “No, you’re right. I won’t be going through with the divorce,” I admit.

  “I don’t understand it,” my mother says, shaking her head.

  “You don’t have to,” Sloane replies, finally speaking.

  He’s always detested my parents but hasn’t ever spoken against them. Both of our parents have their own sets of issues, and we’ve just always kind of ignored them.

  Fighting with them isn’t ever worth it. We each listen to them and then do what we want. We’re in our thirties, and they don’t have control over us anymore.

  “What does that mean?” my father asks, puffing out his chest.

  “Means that you don’t have to understand us. You aren’t part of our marriage,” Sloane shrugs.

  I watch as my father’s face visibly reddens at his words. “Listen here, you little prick, you aren’t allowed to talk to me that way,” my father growls. Sloane just snorts.

  “I’m almost forty, old man, not a little prick anymore,” he jeers. “Also, your big bad voice didn’t scare me away from Imogen when I was eighteen years old, and it still doesn’t. Genny’s mine—my wife. I don’t care what kind of plans you had with Graham Bayard, but they’re done. She won’t marry him, not even if I’m out of the picture,” he rumbles.

  “Sloane,” I whisper, tugging on his arm.

  “No, baby. Your dad and Graham had some master plan, and they’re both pissed now because I’m back and they can’t try to manipulate you. I won’t let that happen,” he announces.

  “I still have a little control, Huntington, don’t forget that,” my father chortles.

  “What? You have control over a portion of her money but not all of it. I know how much is in her trust, and I’ll know if one penny goes missing, too. That trust is untouchable, and it’s going to stay that way so that our children can have it. You can keep whatever money you want, I could give a fuck; we don’t need it,” Sloane announces.

  “You’ll be singing a different tune if it’s taken,” my father says, sounding high and mighty.

  “Not singing any tunes for you, asshole. Wanna know what? My father’s money is all but gone, and I didn’t get what I should have. Do you know how much of a fuck I give? Not a single one. Its money. It isn’t life or death if you don’t have it, and guess what? I can always make more, and I make plenty.”

  “Bullshit,” my father snaps.

  “Which part?” I ask, interrupting them. “There’s a reason you’re pushing for Graham even though you know he hit me.”

  My father doesn’t visibly show a reaction. He wouldn’t. I’m convinced he has no soul. We pull up to the funeral home before my father can answer, and I fight rolling my eyes as the door opens and my father plasters on a concerned, yet calm face. It’s his serious funeral face. My family’s entire social circle is so damn vapid, it’s disgusting.

  “You gonna be okay, Kippy?” I ask as I squeeze his hand.

  “Yeah,” he lies.

  “Well, that was hell,” Kipling murmurs.

  We’re sitting in the front row outside in the cemetery after everybody has left the graveside service, other than immediate family.

  Luckily, my parents are heading to the reception early to play host and hostess. Since they love that shit, nobody protested. Now it’s just Kip, Kalli, Sloane and me staring at the casket in front of us.

  “No, what he left for us, the way he did it, that’s going to be hell,” Kalli slurs.

  “Whatever you need, we’re here for you,” I say, squeezing Kip’s arm.

  “I’m supposed to leave for Harvard in two-weeks. My first semester is paid, but nothing else,” Kipling says, his voice shaky.

  “Don’t worry about money. I’ll take care of you,” Sloane says. I turn to him in surprise. “I don’t spend even a fraction of what I get each month, Kippy. I have some of my own holdings as well. You need to go to school,” Sloane murmurs. My heart fills with even more love for him.

  I let my head gently fall onto his shoulder, and I wrap my hand around his upper thigh. He grunts before he stands and tugs me up as well.

  “You want to come home with us for a while?” Sloane asks Kip.

  “No, I’m going to help mom with packing and getting her settled in her own place,” he says as he stands.

  We walk away from Kalli, Kip behind us. When we’re far enough away, Sloane speaks more freely.

  “Mom’s an adult. You don’t need to take care of her. She’s capable of calling people to hire that can help her. If you need to get to college earlier, or you want to crash with us before you go, nobody will be angry with you. Nobody expects you to take care of her,” Sloane says.

  I slide my hand around his waist, feeling nothing but pride in the way he’s handling all of this. He so obviously wants to take care of Kip.

  Sloane’s so sexy when he’s in control; but when he’s showing love, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t show if often.

  “Thanks. I’ll help her, though. I’ll feel better knowing she’s all settled when I leave,” he shrugs.

  “Don’t do it all on your own. Call me if you need me,” Sloane murmurs.

  “Me too,” I chime in. Kipling looks down on me and smiles.

  I step away from Sloane and wrap Kip in my arms. He does the same and hugs me tightly.

  “Glad you’re back with my asshole brother,” he whispers into my neck.

  “I am, too… I think,” I admit.

  Sloane and I leave a few minutes later, and we tell Kip that we’ll send the limo back to
pick them up once it drops us off at my place. He nods his agreement and turns back to sit with his mother.

  It’s sad, the destruction that one stack of papers, a simple will, left behind. Sloane McKinley Huntington, II is a piece of shit—even in death.

  SOAR

  “I have to work tonight, sunshine,” I announce. Genny stiffens next to me. “Not at the clubhouse.”

  We’re headed back to her place to pick up her car and my bike before we get the fuck out of this city.

  Everyone who came to support us from the club is waiting in front of her place, and the moving van has already left.

  “Okay,” she says and turns to look out the window.

  “Sunshine,” I bark a little too harshly, causing her to jump. “Talk.”

  “I’m just… I don’t want to be in that house all alone again,” she admits, refusing to look at me.

  I ask her to look at me, and when she does, I see tears swimming in her eyes. Makes me feel like shit, but I have to do my job. It’s true that I don’t need the money from the club, but that’s not why I have to do my job.

  They depend on me, and they’re my family. I can’t let them down. I refuse to. Me being in prison for three years was enough of a goddamn letdown, not only to them, but also to myself and Genny.

  “I’ll be home right after I’m finished. Probably won’t be until early morning, but swear to fuck, I’ll come straight home,” I say, cupping her cheek with my hand.

  “It’s stupid,” she says, shaking her head.

  “What’s stupid?” I ask, my jaw clenching as I try not to become angry.

  If she says the club is stupid, then we’re going to have bigger problems then we already do.

  “I shouldn’t be so worried about being alone in that house, but I spent so many nights alone while you were…”

  I don’t let her finish her sentence. Pressing my lips to hers, I give her a hard kiss, effectively shutting her up before I whisper. “No other women. No whores—just you, baby. Swear, sunshine.”

  “I wish I could believe you,” she says shakily.

  I repeat my words, “Swear to you, sunshine.” She nods, letting out a deep breath. “Now let’s hurry home so I can make you come before I have to head out.”

  “Sloane,” she breathes.

  “Need to be inside you again,” I murmur as I nibble on her lips. “I’ll prove to you that this will work, baby.”

  “I love you,” she says. I close my eyes. “I’ll always love you.”

  I don’t say it back, but holy fucking shit does it feel good every time the words tumble from her lips. The limo stops in front of her place, and I press my lips to hers quickly before I open the door and wait to help her out.

  It doesn’t take us long to load up on bikes, and the women all load up into Mary-Anne’s SUV, since most of them are knocked up and can’t ride on the back of bikes. My brow furrows when I notice that Imogen is alone in her car. I jog over to her.

  “You want me to have one of the other girls come ride with you?” I ask. She shakes her head, but I can see her mind working behind her eyes.

  “I want to be alone,” she says, giving me a fake as shit smile.

  “See you at the house. We’ll celebrate,” I grin, feeling completely uneasy about her going alone when the other car is packed full of women. “Maybe go for a ride?”

  “A ride?” she asks in surprise.

  I smile at her giddy excitement. It’s been since before I went away that she was on the back of my bike. I can’t wait to feel her against me again, her arms wrapped around me, her tits pressed against my back.

  I grin. “Yeah, sunshine, a ride.”

  “Okay, baby,” she whispers.

  I swear to fuck, it hits me straight in my dick, making me hard and needing her even more than I did before.

  I try to ignore my cock and bend down, pressing my lips to hers. I remind her to drive safe and let her know that her gas tank is full.

  Something feels wrong about separating from her right now, but I tamp that down. She’ll be fine, there’s no reason for me to worry.

  Nevertheless, I can’t get that gut feeling to dissipate. She nods and we separate, the nagging feeling that something isn’t right still in the pit of my stomach. It stays with me as I follow behind her the entire trip home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IMOGEN

  It doesn’t escape my attention that all of the other Old Ladies pile in one SUV while I drive all the way back to Shasta by myself. I was a bitch to them for years, so it shouldn’t surprise or hurt my feelings. For whatever reason, it does just that.

  My cell phone rings in the seat next to me. Without thinking, I accept the call. I regret my decision as soon as Graham’s voice comes through the car’s speakers.

  “Where are you headed, Imogen?” he asks coolly.

  “Home,” I admit as my fingers grip the steering wheel.

  “Back to the mountains, then?”

  I don’t bother responding. He knows where I’m going, and he knows it’s not anywhere with him.

  “I just had a long conversation with your father. You know he’s very upset by your choices. He feels as though you’re not quite sane,” he chuckles. “Going back with a habitual cheater, a drug user, and a felon in a motorcycle gang,” he states before he makes a tsk, tsk sound.

  My jaw clenches at his words, at his veiled threat, “What do you want, Graham?”

  “Oh, you’ll know when I’m ready to tell you,” he ominously says before he ends the call.

  My brow furrows, and I try turning up the radio to take my mind off of the strange conversation. I don’t know what kind of game Graham is playing, or what he and my father have planned.

  I should probably be worried, but I’m so far removed from them up here in the mountains that I doubt I’ll even hear from either of them again, until my parents’ summer get together.

  Looking in my rearview mirror, I notice that I’ve been separated from the rest of the group somewhere on the freeway. When I take my exit, I assume that we’ll catch up, but then something flashes in my rearview mirror.

  The blue and red lights have me pulling as far over to the side of the road as I can. I watch as a police officer approaches my window, and I roll it down, feeling nervous as my hands grip my steering wheel.

  “Hey there, ma’am. License and registration please,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. Except, when I glance up at him, I’m startled by the intensity in his gaze.

  With shaky fingers, I reach for my glove box and pull out my registration then grab my wallet from my purse to find my license.

  “Imogen Huntington,” he murmurs. I watch as his eyes travel from my license, to my face, to my breasts. “You were going five miles over the speed limit, and in inclement weather.”

  My eyebrows snap together, and I look up at the sky. It’s a gorgeous sunny day, a warm seventy degrees, and not a cloud in the sky.

  “Inclement weather?” I ask.

  He grins as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. “Yeah, sweetheart. Now, I can give you this ticket, but it’ll make your rates go up, and probably not look too great to have the wife of a man on probation getting a reckless driving ticket—or I can make it all go away.”

  “Make it go away?” I whisper, pretty damn sure what he’s implying, but unbelieving that this is actually happening to me.

  He leans over, his wrists pressing against my window, his hands dangling in my car, and his face mere inches from mine.

  “You suck my cock, sweetheart, and I can make it all go away. You don’t, and I’ll have to pull you out of this car and do a search. Now, I would hate to see you go down because that husband of yours thought he’d be slick and put his dope in your car.”

  I press my lips together, unsure of what to say or do. There’s no way in hell I’m giving this douchebag a blowjob; but since he’s obviously dirty, I have no idea what lengths he’ll go with his filth. He pauses and I watch him reach into his pocket,
pulling out his phone.

  “Yeah, I got her right here. No, he’s not with her,” he sighs before he continues. “Yeah, okay.” He looks at me and presses his lips together as a muscle jumps in his cheek. “You get a pass today, sweetheart. But eventually, those sweet lips will be wrapped around my cock. You can guarantee that shit.

  He stands, throwing my license and registration at me before he walks away. When he’s in his car, he turns around and heads in the opposite direction of where I’m driving.

  Only when he’s gone do I start to shake. My entire body starts to tremble and my eyes water. I try to take calm breaths, but I’m on edge.

  Had he not gotten that phone call, there’s no telling what he would have forced me to do. Out here, on this deserted road, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him, no matter how hard I fought.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I look around before I pull back onto the road. I should turn around and go back to San Francisco, get the fuck away from Sloane and whatever is following him.

  That cop knew who I was.

  He pulled me over to fuck with me for a purpose. I try to force the entire situation out of my head. Ignorance is bliss, and I just want to forget it even happened.

  By the time I’ve arrived at the home I’ve shared with Sloane for the past fourteen years, I’ve completely forgotten the conversation with Graham and ignored the fear from the police officer. My house is looming in front of me, and I don’t want to get out of my car.

  My heart starts to race, and I find it hard to breathe as I look at the house I’ve practically lived in alone. I can’t count how many tears I’ve cried, how many nights I laid awake imagining every disgusting scenario I could think of.

  I don’t want things to ever to go back to the way they were, not even a little bit. I feel like walking into this house will catapult me back in time, and I want no part of it.

  “Imogen?” Sloane’s voice calls out as he knocks on my car window.

  I don’t know where he came from, but seeing his green eyes makes my tense body relax.