Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Wait! What the fuck is that?

  Halfway up the track there’s a strange bike by the side of the road, and a man standing beside it. Someone I don’t know. All my senses now on high alert and easing my gun from its holster, I slow my speed to a crawl, watching for any sign of a threat or weapon. As I draw closer, I let out a slow whistle, my eyes transfixed on the bike. It’s only a fucking Vincent Black Shadow! Dating from the 1950s, one of the most iconic bikes ever built. It’s in a fairly good state of restoration too, and probably worth something approaching a hundred thousand dollars. A bitch to ride though, and I take my hat off to the biker who’s able to handle it.

  All thoughts of who, why, and what the unknown biker is doing halfway up to my fucking compound disappear as she turns to face me and I get a look at her features. Yes, her. It’s a fucking broad!

  Pulling my Harley to a halt a few yards behind, my gun still in my hand, I’m wary in case of danger. Could this be a set up? Have the fucking Demons sent a bitch to kill me? Oh, yeah, we got most of them when we blew up their clubhouse, but I still feel twitches in my back when I remember the couple we let escape. There’s no way I’m going to let long brown locks framing a face which can only be described as fucking gorgeous knock me off my guard.

  The girl is staring at me, returning my scrutiny. Then, as she takes a step toward me, I draw up my gun and point it at her.

  Bravely, she ignores the weapon. “Oh, thank Christ! I thought this place was deserted.” Her arm airily waves around, indicating the desert surrounding us. “I’ve been here for over an hour.”

  It crosses my mind that Peg should have passed her, but then I remember he’d come up from the city to wait for Wraith and not down from the compound. But the thought doesn’t make me feel any easier. Had she been waiting for me? Glancing around, I can’t see anyone else and apart from a few sprawling prickly pears and an ancient saguaro, there’s nothing but open desert and nowhere for someone to hide.

  While an ambush this close to the compound is unlikely, my gun remains steadily on target, my aim unwavering. Glaring, I instruct, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, girl, but you better start talking. And you’d better have a good fuckin’ story.”

  Her eyes widen and focus on my hand as if just now noticing my weapon for the first time. She swallows a couple of times, and I can see her throat working, but no words come out.

  “Think you might have taken a wrong turn, darlin’,” I start, hoping the fuck that’s all it is. “This road only leads to one place. The Satan’s Devils’ compound.”

  Now, she’s looking at my cut, and then she nods and a tentative smile spreads over her face. It only serves to make her look even more attractive, and my dick twitches in appreciation. “That’s good. I’m in the right place then.”

  The right place?

  “You looking to be a sweet butt?” I sneer. It might not be anything I’d take objection to, and the brothers would love her, but it seems unlikely. The bike, her appearance—oh, she’s showing she’s got the right equipment—her leather jeans hugging her in all the right places, highlighting a nice tight ass. She’s removed her jacket probably due to the heat, which allows me to see her tight t-shirt hugging some very attractive looking curves. But there’s something about the way that she carries herself that makes my suggestion seem doubtful. Something she immediately confirms.

  “No way. I’m no whore.” She almost spits out the denial.

  Well I can cross that explanation off, but that still leaves the question—she’s heading for my compound, but why? “Think you better start talking,” I tell her, impatiently. Though the light’s starting to fail, I can see her well enough in the beam from my running lights. I’m anxious to get back to that beer and that warm wet pussy I’ve been looking forward to, but I don’t want to leave any stranger out here, not so close to our club.

  She looks down and indicates her bike. “I’ve run out of gas.”

  Well if that’s all it is, it’s easy enough to solve. “I’ll get some brought down to you.” Running an auto-shop out of the compound, we’ve always got gas on hand, and one of the brothers wouldn’t mind bringing it down. Especially when they catch sight of her. A low unintentional growl escapes me as I suddenly know I don’t want any of those fuckers near her. No, I’ll go get the gas myself and then she can be on her way—in the opposite fucking direction.

  Her eyes light up. “That would be great!” And then her face falls. “But I can’t pay for it.”

  Now we might be getting somewhere. “If you’re looking for work darlin’, you’ve come to the wrong fuckin’ place. Unless you want to earn on your back.”

  Retreating a step, she places her hand almost lovingly on the seat of the Black Shadow, as though seeking its support. As she strokes the plastic again, I find my cock swelling, wondering what it would feel like if her hand was touching me in such a familiar way. The idea of taking her up to the compound myself and throwing her down on my bed enters my mind. It wouldn’t be any hardship having someone like her under me tonight.

  But why is she here? The incongruity of the situation strikes me like a slap around the head. You don’t find an attractive woman halfway up to your clubhouse with an expensive bike for no fucking reason. And until I find out what’s going on, she’s going nowhere near my club.

  Chapter Two

  Sam…

  If my bike wasn’t my baby, I’d have walked up to the compound myself. It couldn’t be that far away, but I wasn’t going to leave my most precious possession unattended by the side of the road. I’d tried pushing it, but on the slight uphill incline it proved an impossible task, at least for me. I’m not a big woman, and this time the bike beat me. Shit, why did I have to run out of gas here, so close to my goal?

  It should have been easy; I was going to fill up when I got to Tucson, but wouldn’t you know it? This road trip keeps getting better and better, giving me one problem after another, and the bitch who stole my wallet from me last night was the final straw. I’m now penniless and unable to pay for anything until I get replacement cards from my bank. At least I keep my license and identity cards separate, that’s one blessing, I guess.

  Right now, the only option I seem to have is to persuade this rough biker to let me up to the compound. Not that things are going to become any simpler when I get there. And I can’t begin to predict the reception I’ll receive when I break my news.

  The biker has removed his helmet, allowing me to see he’s probably somewhere toward the latter end of his thirties, as there are signs of greying at his temple and white speckles peppering his short beard. He’s got the most beautiful steely grey eyes, but his face seems fixed in a permanent scowl. Or maybe that’s just the outward sign that he doesn’t trust me. Then my eye’s fall on the patch on his cut which tells me he’s the freaking president of the club. Oh shit. Why hadn’t someone else come along? Someone who might have been easier to convince.

  He’s training his eyes on me, and it takes all that I have to meet his gaze and not to reel away from the intensity of his hardened stare. “I think you better start talking, darlin’.” He’s still holding that gun, although at least he’s relaxed it down by his side. But were I to make just one wrong move…

  I sigh, and this time I do look down before making my decision. Had it been anyone else, I might have concocted something just to get me inside the gates, but this man’s the top of the food chain. I understand nothing but the truth will do, instinctively knowing he would quickly sniff out any fabrication. Returning my eyes to him, I wonder if he’s even going to believe me. My reality sounds fanciful enough after all.

  Leaning back on the Vincent, idly noticing the plastic of the seat is still warm despite the cooling of the air around me, I take a deep breath and begin, “My name's Samantha,” correcting quickly, “Sam.” No one’s ever called me anything else. Samantha’s too much of a mouthful and far too girly for me.

  “I go by Drummer,” he growls. “I’m the
president of the Satan’s Devils. So now the fuckin’ introductions are out of the way, why are you here? And why are you heading for my clubhouse?”

  It’s hard not to notice the ownership he gives to it, and a shivery feeling inside me makes me wonder what it would be like to be owned by such a man. Owned? For goodness’ sake! But I can’t deny that deep controlling voice makes parts of me tingle, parts which really shouldn’t be making themselves felt in this situation, and that are far too distracting. Swallowing a couple of times, as much to get my thoughts back on the right track as to try and elicit his help, I start once again to explain, I don’t understand the effect he’s having on me. If I get to the compound, I’ll make sure to stay well out of his way!

  “I’m looking for a man going by the name of Viper.”

  His face stays blank, not giving away that Viper’s one of his members. He’s protective and loyal. “Not sure as I know any dude with that handle.”

  I know he’s staying just this side of lying, but I’ve done my research. I’m positive as I insist, “Viper is a member of the Satan’s Devils, and as far as I know, he’s still with the Tucson Chapter.”

  “Is he now?” His eyes feel like laser beams burning into me. “Say, if this Viper was at my compound, what would you be wanting with him?”

  Again, I drop my head, shaking it a little before raising it and meeting his steely stare once more. He’s not going to believe me. Fuck, when I found out, I had enough difficulty accepting it was true, myself. I take a deep breath, and then state the bizarre fact, “He’s my father.” I can’t bring myself to call him Dad—in reality, he was just the sperm donor. In all fairness, he never got the chance to be anything more.

  The president of the Satan’s Devils looks back in amazement and then bursts out laughing. He wraps his arms over his belly as the chuckles come forth. At least the gun’s no longer pointing at me. “The fuck you talking about, girl?” He gives me another of his probing looks, examining me from head to toe. “Viper doesn’t have any kids. Never wanted any. And you, you’re what, twenty-five, twenty-six?”

  He’s obviously astute; he’s hit the nail on the head. “Twenty-six,” I confirm. I don’t try to be coy; I couldn’t pull it off if I wanted to.

  Another bark of laughter. “I don’t know where you got your information from, or what game you’re trying to play, but it isn’t possible. Viper’s just turned forty.” He shakes his head. “Whatever stunt you’re pulling, you picked the wrong fuckin’ person there.” Jerking his chin toward my bike, he adds, “I’ll get you some gas and then you can get back on your bike.”

  Not when I’ve come this far I won’t! Meeting him stare for stare, I keep my voice level. “I want to see Viper, to speak to him myself. When I do, he’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

  Gradually he stops laughing, and his scowl returns. He keeps silent for a moment as though considering whether it could actually be possible. “You got fuckin’ proof?”

  Putting my hand on the Vincent, hoping it will be enough to convince the man who doesn’t know either it or I exist, I reply firmly, “Yes.”

  That gives him pause for thought. Wiping his hand across his face, his fingers lingering on his short beard, he starts to put it together. “Christ, so what you’re saying is he fucked your mom when he was no more than fourteen?”

  Just that mention of my mother brings tears to my eyes, and angry with myself, I swipe them away. Something tells me it would be wrong to reveal any weakness in front of this man. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I throw back at him.

  Now his eyes narrow, and again he’s thinking about it. He’s quiet for a few moments before he says, “Viper’s never said nothing about any kid.”

  “He never knew.” And until only recently, I didn’t either.

  It’s completely dark now, and as he moves to the side, I can see him only as a silhouette backlit by his headlight. But it’s enough to show his arm is pointing to the sandy bank at the side of the road. “Even if you are who you say, he isn’t gonna like it; I can tell you that for a start. You’re either fuckin’ lying or there’s a story here. How’s about we take a load off and you can tell me exactly what your game is?”

  With relief, I see him holster his gun, and I warily eye up the bank. There are no snakes here that I can see, but coming as I do from Washington, I’m cautious about what wildlife there is in the desert. He sits himself down, obviously not affected by similar worries, so folding my legs, I sit beside him.

  “Tell me everything, and then I’ll decide whether or not I’ll let you see Viper.” His voice has gentled a little.

  I look up at the stars, God, it’s pretty here! I feel him shift impatiently; the stars are nothing new to him. After taking a deep breath, I begin. It’s easier now that his eyes are no longer blazing into me. “My mom died a couple of months ago.”

  “Sorry to hear that, darlin’.” There’s real sympathy in his tone.

  Her loss still too raw, empathy is hard for me to deal with. Shaking off the unwelcome blast of grief, I carry on, keeping the tremor out of my voice, “Yeah, well, she had cancer. Lung cancer. She always smoked, and it took her pretty damn quick.” My voice falters as I put into such simple cold words the months of shock, horror, and misery I have dealt with; and for her, pain and regret. Another deep breath, and blinking rapidly to stave off the threatening tears, I carry on, “She’d always evaded the question of who my dad was. She’d been upfront that he didn’t know about me so I wouldn’t feel abandoned, but however much I asked, she’d never admit his identity.” I break off, hesitating. “She only let on just before she died.”

  He fills the silence, “And she told you it was Viper?”

  I nod. “It was the last day she was able to speak coherently before the morphine blurred her senses, and it was quite the story.” It’s dark, but I feel him grab my hand and give it a little squeeze before letting it go again. It wasn’t what I expected from such a man, but it gives me the strength to carry on with my tale.

  “Viper, or Matt Knowles as he was known then, was quite the teenager. He was tall, handsome, and well-built, even at fourteen.” I’m repeating the words Mom had told me, in exactly the same way—as a justification, or excuse, I’m still not sure. “He was young but looked a lot older. Mom thought he was closer to her age. She was almost twenty.” He’d been a virgin, but I don’t think his prez needs all the information.

  “They were only together that one time—in a barn of all places. The next day she saw him getting on the freaking school bus and asking around, found out how old he was. They’d planned to meet up again, but once she knew his age, she stayed well away.”

  There’s silence, broken only when he surmises, “And you were the result?” Again, I just nod for my answer. In a harsher voice he questions, “Why didn’t she go to Viper? Why didn’t she tell him? Surely he deserved to know?”

  “That’s freaking obvious, isn’t it? She was nineteen; he was fourteen. By the time she found out she was pregnant, she knew there was no way she could admit to anyone who the father was.”

  “Shit!”

  I can almost hear the penny dropping, but I spell it out for him anyway. “I don’t know what would have happened, but it was statutory rape, and in Arizona, there’s no statute of limitations.”

  “Fuck! Never considered it that way around.” A laugh barks out of him. “A woman being accused of technically raping a man? What a situation! So, what did she do?”

  I resume my sad narrative, “Her parents disowned her, there was nothing for her here. She worked her way up north hitchhiking, doing waitressing jobs and anything that would give her a few dollars. Finally, she ended up in Washington. She had me, worked her butt off to support us…” My voice falters, there’s no point going into the rest—how she ended up doing the paperwork for a garage, working her way up to managing it, spending almost every waking hour there, taking me along with her as she couldn’t afford childcare—by the time she could, I di
dn’t need it.

  He’s filling in the gaps for himself. “So she died penniless and left you nothing. So you thought you’d hit up your long lost pop.” Before I have the chance to contradict him, he continues, “How the fuck did she know he was here?”

  “She kept in touch with friends in Tucson. Viper didn’t go far. And no,” I put more strength into my voice, and point at my baby, “look at the bike. That’s mine. I restored it myself, been working on it since I was sixteen. I’d hardly call myself penniless.” I pause, considering how much to say, and how I can put it into words. Holding out my hands to the light of the headlamp so he can see they’re calloused with short unfeminine nails, I explain, “I’m a mechanic, and a good one. Never have trouble finding work, well, when I can get over the barrier of being a woman that is.

  “Mom ended up managing a garage.” Succinctly I sum up her working life. “But it suffered when she was ill. Most of our money got taken up paying for her treatments, but I’ve got a little behind me as well as the Vincent. I was mugged on the way here. Freaking yesterday. I’d been on the road for weeks, taking my time, enjoying the trip and having the space to let it sink in that I’m now all alone. I suppose I always knew I was headed this way, something was driving me here. After all my time on the road, I got to Arizona and then that happened.”

  “Not having much luck, are ya, darlin’?” Again, his tone is sympathetic.

  Silence descends. In the still air, the sound of a motorcycle revving in the distance reaches us, reminding me I’m so close to my journey’s end, yet, so far. The man sitting beside me rules the club to which I’m heading. And if he decides to turn me away, I don’t know if I’d have any recourse. I give him the space to digest what I’ve told him and hope he believes me… and introduces me to the man who sired me.

  “You come looking for your pop as you’ve lost your mom.” He turns my head to face him. “Darlin’ you’re wasting your time. Viper’s no family man. He’s got an ol’ lady, but they’ve never had children.”