Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  It can’t hurt to ask. “Any spare overalls?”

  “Here!” Another man chucks me some. They’re certainly not clean and about ten times too big, but better than nothing. Shrugging off my jacket—God, it’s hot in Arizona—I pull them on, roll the sleeves and legs up as best I can, and then get down to work, ignoring the men watching me as I get lost in my task.

  First, I clean off the engine to try to see where the oil is coming from so I can start to identify the fault. That’s a messy job in itself, and quickly my hands are greasy and black. After a while my audience seems to get bored, and they wander off, thankfully leaving me to get on with it. The shop becomes filled with the sounds of engines revving, bangs and clattering of the tools, and the odd swear word as someone struggles to win the battle between a tight bolt and a wrench. The sounds comfort me, reminding me of home.

  Concentrating, I zone out, not even hearing the conversations going on around me. It takes me longer than it should to find it, mainly because I’m trying to prove the bad feeling I have at the back of my mind wrong. But however hard I try to look for another explanation, I’ve identified the cause of the leak. Just before my allotted time is up, I stand, stretch, and bow my head. Of all the freaking things that could have gone right now.

  Blade noticed I’ve stopped working and comes over.

  “Found the problem?” He sneers as if I’m going to have to admit I’m flummoxed.

  But I’m too upset to take it to heart. “Sure have,” I tell him, tonelessly, and point to the offending part lying sadly on the ground. “Crankshaft oil seal is fucked.”

  His eyes narrow and he glances at my face, correctly reading the consternation there. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I wipe off my hands as best I can and look around for somewhere to throw the oily rag, then seeing a bin, chuck it in.

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  Well, he asked nicely, and if he could show me I’m mistaken for once, I’d be grateful. Otherwise, there’s no alternative but for me to try to source an original replacement part, and for that, I’ll need access to a computer and have the money to pay for it. Then, assuming I find one available, wait for it to be delivered. “Be my guest.”

  Quicker than I did, because I was hoping to prove my original diagnosis wrong and find instead something that would have been simple to fix, Blade goes over the Vincent. When he stands again, he’s shaking his head. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re right.” There’s a flare of admiration in his eyes. “Smart bitch, aren’t cha?”

  His compliment washes over me; I’m just trying to work out what to do now.

  There’s a clock on the wall, a Harley clock. Now, why doesn’t that surprise me? And at the two-hour mark exactly, Drummer returns. I’m still staring at the Vincent as if it could miraculously regenerate the broken part.

  “Well?” I hear his gruff voice behind me. I fill him in, Blade confirming my assessment. Drummer lifts back his head and lets out a sigh.

  “Your bike isn’t going anywhere, darlin’.”

  Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.

  “Okay, so the prospect will make sure you get to town—”

  I interrupt him, “No.”

  “No?” he growls, and the sound resonates through me. This is not the time to get aroused. Focus. I feel my face flush, but I stand my ground.

  “No,” I insist. “I’m not leaving my bike.”

  “Can’t have you staying at the clubhouse. Remember our agreement?”

  I know he’s reminding me that Viper wants me out of sight. Quickly considering my options, not that I’ve got many to choose from, I look around. “I’ll stay here.” It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter in a garage, but normally I’m working there, not sleeping. My eyes fall on the Harleys waiting to be serviced or repaired, and I point to them. “I can help out. You seem to have a lot of work.”

  “I’m not having no bitch touching my bike!” Slick growls.

  I see there are cars here too. “What about them?” I point in the other direction.

  Drummer and Blade exchange looks. “If she’s any fuckin’ good, we could use an extra pair of hands,” Blade tells his prez. “We’ve got a lot of work, and if she knows her way around cars like she seems to do bikes, she could come in handy.”

  After looking around him, and then looking at me, Drummer sighs. I must look a sight, standing here, my hair pulled roughly back in a bun, overalls shrugged down to my hips, my skin gleaming with sweat and probably oil smudges on my face. I hope he’s seeing a mechanic and not simply my sex. He stares at Blade.

  “You,” he points to him. “You watch her like a hawk. Don’t let her near the bikes, get her going on an oil change or something. And,” now he raises his voice so everyone can hear, “I don’t want any slacking just because you’ve got a fuckin’ bitch working here.”

  Then he turns to me. “You can use the computer to search for your part. You find it, Blade will give you the shop’s card and you can put it on that. You work your fuckin’ little ass off as repayment. And you stay here—right here. You don’t come back to the clubhouse. I’ll get one of the bitches to bring you some food. Got it? And as soon as your fuckin’ bike’s fixed, you’re out of here, and we’ll never see you again.”

  I feel like high-fiving someone. It’s no hardship to me at all. And working my butt off around cars and bikes? That’s all I’ve ever done and all I’ve ever wanted to do. After weeks on the road, I can’t wait to get my hands dirty again. Unable to restrain myself, I do the most stupid thing I can, I leap toward him and pulling his head down to mine, give him a smacker on his cheek. Well, that’s what I meant to do. At the last second, he turns his head and I catch him right on the mouth.

  Big mistake! As my lips touch his, it’s as though an electric current has passed between us. Time stands still and I breathe in his masculine scent, a perfume that goes straight to my head. My stomach clenches, and I feel a tingling between my thighs.

  He steps back quickly and sneers before throwing one last glare toward his brothers, as though daring them to comment. Turning on his heels, he leaves as though the hounds of hell were after him.

  Shit!

  “Come here, Sam.” Blade’s laughing.

  “Wrench,” I tell him as I go toward him. When he raises his eyebrows I continue, “Where I last worked, that was what they called me.”

  Slowly a face splitting grin crosses his face. “Come here, then, Wench.”

  Oh God, I suppose I walked right into that. But as they’re letting me stay on to fix my bike and letting me work on my beloved engines, I’m not going to cause a fuss. I can only hope it doesn’t catch on. But that hope is short lived as he leads me into the small but fairly organised office, and introduces me to a man who must at least partly be of Native American descent. He’s got striking features and long dark hair reaching down to the middle of his back. I’m green with envy—his hair is sleek and straight, unlike mine with curls and waves unless I attack it with straighteners.

  “Mouse, this is Wench. Wench, meet our computer guru. He can set you up with your own account and password so you can surf to your heart’s content.”

  Clearly having overheard Drummer’s instructions, Mouse makes no protest and simply gets on with his task. Blade stands behind him as he indicates a chair for me, and then his fingers fly across the keyboard. In no time at all, he writes down an account name and password for me, then with a nod waits while I log in. I see the access he’s given me only lets me onto the internet and doesn’t let me into anything else—no accounts or general order screens for the garage. Not surprising, I suppose. The Satan’s Devils would be wary of anyone poking around in their business.

  “You any good with computers?” Mouse asks, his eyes watching me carefully.

  “I can use them to order parts, know my way around some accounting software, but that’s my limit.” Oh, and to go on bike forums, but I don’t think he needs to know that. My answer seems to sa
tisfy him when, after a moment of consideration, he jerks his chin toward Blade and they both leave the office.

  Wishing I had access to my notes where I’d stored the details of all the decent scrap dealers I’d normally use, I begin my search. One hour and several phone calls later and I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for, and hopefully they’ll be able to FedEx it to me in a couple of days. Going to the office door, I call out to Blade, and he’s soon handing me the shop’s credit card so I can complete my purchase. That done, I offer to get down to work.

  “You gonna show us what you can do?” Blade asks, a smirk on his face.

  “Rather she shows us her tits!” another man calls out.

  “Shut it, Bullet!” Blade shakes his head, but he’s chuckling too.

  I cut my teeth on oil changes, I could do them in my sleep. I work on the first couple of cars that Blade points out, having them done in no time. I work quickly and efficiently, and Blade watches me for a while and then checks up on me periodically, but he soon seems happy enough that I know what I’m doing—as he should be. He’s getting a good mechanic for the price of an oil seal.

  Various men wander into the area I’m working, treating me as though I’m a curiosity. I ignore comments about my ass and suggestions what they could do to me as I’m bending over an engine. I’ve worked with men all my life and am well used to such repartee and just let it roll off me. Soon, they’ll get over the fact I’m a woman, they always do. Soon they’ll be treating me just like one of the boys. If I’m here long enough, that is.

  I don’t want Drummer to see me like that.

  Stopping my mind thinking about the enigmatic president who I’ve no business lusting after, I’m polite when Blade introduces me to Dollar, who’s apparently the treasurer—who knew that motorcycle clubs even had positions like that?—and another good-looking man called Dart as well as a biker strangely called Tongue, who seems transfixed on my unremarkably-sized chest. After Tongue stuck out that organ and waggled it at me, his stud glinting in the overhead light, I’m not left in any doubt how he’d gotten his name. Ew.

  I think they try to flirt with me, but I’m used to the banter of this type in such an environment, and while I wouldn’t know how to respond to it, I do know how to ignore it and focus instead on my task.

  As the afternoon draws on, the men start to disappear. Blade pulls something out of the back and attempts to dust it off. When he unfolds it, it’s an old camp bed, and I appreciate him thinking of it. After the camaraderie of the afternoon, I feel a bit lonely as they all drift away but remember my strict instructions not to go to the clubhouse. I don’t much mind as I recollect the types of things I saw there yesterday evening. I have no wish to see any more dicks being openly sucked in full view. Drummer needn’t have worried. I have no intention to invade their privacy again. My memories mean my own company doesn’t seem so bad.

  I dig my e-reader out of my bag ready to amuse myself with a book. Just before the men close up the shop, the prospect appears with a plate of food, some water, beer, and other snacks. As I remove the cover on the plate to find a tasteful dish of what’s obviously homemade fried chicken, I wonder who does the cooking here. I don’t think about it too long, the food’s calling to me, and I realise I’m starving.

  By the time I’ve finished eating, I’m entirely alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Drummer…

  Leaving the garage, shaking my head, I’m wondering how the fuck Sam had managed to outmanoeuvre me and had me agreeing to her staying here. I should have shipped her off to the city and refused to have her back on the compound. We could have taken the bike down to her when it was fixed, but instead she’s got me twisted around her little finger, and now she’s going to be sleeping in the shop. Maybe after an uncomfortable night she’ll be happy to move to town. Knowing my brothers, she’s got to be less than pleased with them as company. What if one of them hits on her? Oh for fuck’s sake, get a grip on yourself man. She’s a bitch, and you’ve got those aplenty. There’s nothing special about her.

  But she kissed me.

  Why the fuck had I turned at that precise second? I knew she had planned only to graze my cheek, but our lips had met. The softness of hers as they touched mine, well, just that gentle momentary caress had my cock swelling. I’d inhaled her perfume and it was almost enough to make me bend her over the nearest workbench, yank her jeans down and thrust into her warm tight hole to get some relief, and without having a care if any of the brothers were watching me stake my claim. Oh no, I’m not shy when it comes to things like that. How does she get me so aroused so fast? Vroom, it’s like zero to fucking sixty in one second flat. I’d had to get out of there fast before I disgraced myself or had done something I might regret. Her reaction to me that she’d been unable to hide? Well, I wasn’t blind to that either. It would be an attraction that I might like to explore if there weren’t other complications.

  I’m reminded that there are other issues at stake as soon as I enter the clubroom. Viper’s pacing, his face as black as a storm cloud, his legs kicking chairs out of the way. Most brothers are staying clear, but Peg’s trying to calm him down and Wraith’s swearing at him to knock it off and asking what the fuck is the matter. As I step through the door, Viper notices me immediately and approaches with his hands tightly balled.

  “What the fuck d’ya think you’re playing at?” he throws at me.

  “My office! Now!” I barge around him giving him no option but to follow. As he enters behind me, he slams the door shut, so hard the walls rattle.

  “I thought you were gonna get rid of the bitch?”

  “Sit and calm the fuck down!” I lean over the desk, my weight on my hands, muscles bunched in my arms.

  He doesn’t. He stays standing, his arms swinging at his sides as though he wants to take a punch at me and is only just managing to hold himself back.

  “SIT!” My loud snarl gets his attention and he does what I ask, but pulls the chair around the other way and straddles it. His position means he can lean over my desk and proceed to yell into my face.

  “I want her gone, Prez. Today!”

  “And I want you to calm the fuck down and listen to me.” My hand thumps down on the desk making my laptop bounce. Curling my fingers into my palms, my knuckle duster rings glint in the light. He doesn’t want to take me on, I’ve had enough already with his daughter pushing me around today.

  It’s at that point he sees just how angry I am and begins to come back to himself. He sits up a little straighter, which at least has the effect of moving his face out of range of my fists and runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t want her here, Prez.”

  “I think you’ve made that fuckin’ clear, and if you’ll listen to me for a moment, you’ll hear that she won’t be coming anywhere near the fuckin’ clubhouse. I’ve made sure of that. Okay?”

  “She’s down at the fuckin’ shop. You can’t fuckin’ guarantee she’ll stay there—”

  “I fuckin’ can!” I take a moment to push my temper back down. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being openly challenged. “Look, Viper, I understand this has been a fuckin’ shock to you and that you don’t want your ol’ lady finding out. But Sam will keep her mouth shut, she’s made that promise. No one else knows there’s a reason she came here other than I helped her when she was stranded on the side of the road.” I break off and wipe my hand over my beard, idly noting it’s time for a trim. With so much grey coming through now I don’t like it getting too long, it just seems to emphasise it. “Look, I accept I have no fuckin’ idea how you’re feeling. Christ, it would be a shock for any man, but she’s here, and she’s staying unless she puts one fuckin’ foot out of line. Look at it this way, once you’ve thought about it, you might want to change your mind. At least talk to her, maybe get to know her—”

  “I don’t want to fuckin’ get to know her!” Viper’s shouting again now, just when I thought I’d managed to bring him down a bit. His head d
rops into his hands. When he looks up his eyes are full of hurt. “I just want her gone. I fuckin’ can’t have Sandy finding out.”

  I don’t understand why. “But Viper, you were barely out of diapers at the time, long before you hooked up with Sandy. Surely, she’d understand? Heck, I can understand you not wanting her to be part of your family, you don’t even know the girl, but when it’s all sunk in, you might want to at least talk to her. Get to find out a bit about her?”

  I can see I’m not getting through as he continues shaking his head sadly. “You don’t know the whole story, Drum.”

  “Do you want to tell me?” I’m not totally sure I want to know. As president sometimes I feel I’m looked on as a life coach or confident to the members, and I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, thank you very fucking much.

  He’s considering it, but to my relief he answers in the negative. “No. Just know this. The sooner she fuckin’ disappears, the better. I’m relying on you, Drum. The brothers and Sandy must never know who she is.”

  With that parting shot, he leaves my office. Which he did well to do. I’m not having any brother questioning my integrity. I’ve given him my word, he just has to accept it.

  I need a drink. Wouldn’t you just fucking believe it? Opening the mini-fridge behind me, I find it’s empty. Shit. I rub my temples, trying to ease away the aching behind my eyeballs. Viper’s got me all stressed out. A beer would really help right now. I go back into the clubroom and head toward the bar.

  “Hey, don’t slap me on my arse.” The sight of Sophie, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Wraith, greets me, and the memory of just how much she’s changed since she’s been here makes me give an inward grin and lightens my mood. She was so timid when she first arrived. She’s certainly taken to her position as the senior old lady, belonging as she does to the VP.

  “Ass, darlin’, ass. How many times do we need to tell you?” Peg, who contributed one hell of a lot to getting her up on her feet and out of the darn wheelchair raises his beer toward her.