The Biker's Plaything

by Sam Crescent

  Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2021 Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0327-5

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE BIKER’S PLAYTHING

  Straight to Hell MC, 1

  Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino

  Copyright © 2021

  Chapter One

  “No, please, no!” The sound of the rat’s squeal filled the air. Seeing as he was standing in his own grave, which Lord had made him dig himself, there was no one to hear.

  “You defied our laws. I can’t have that.”

  “I’m sorry, Lord. I didn’t know what I was doing. It was a mistake. I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry.”

  “Anything?” Lord asked.

  “Yes. Please. Anything.”

  Lord smiled. “Kiss my feet.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Kiss my fucking feet.”

  The hole was big enough for the rat to still reach his boots. He waited. As soon as his lips were close, Lord kicked out, hitting him hard in the face. The man fell back, cupping his jaw, blood flowing between his fingers.

  His men all laughed.

  They knew the moment a rat was declared, the only sure thing was death.

  “Please, what about my daughter? She’s not responsible. Please.”

  “Don’t worry. Ally will get the right treatment owed to her by the club. You really should have thought about that before doing what you did.” Pulling out his gun, which he only used to take out rats in the club, he fired one bullet, and it went straight through the man’s head.

  He was already in his grave and Lord nodded. Justice had been served. His men clapped their hands, all of them happy with the way this ended.

  Brick, his VP, came to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lord didn’t like to be touched and shrugged him off. The men knew not to put a hand on him.

  “I want the cop next,” Lord said.

  The rat, Richard Prixman, had been an accountant of sorts, working at the club’s strip joints. Not only had the son of a bitch been stealing from him, but he’d also decided to use their records to try to bring a case against the club. As if he’d ever allow that to happen.

  The club was his life. He protected everyone.

  “Get the prospects to clean this shit up.” He kicked some mud at the dead face. “It’s a shame we couldn’t mount his head on a spike to serve as a warning to anyone tempted to turn their backs on us.”

  Leaving his mess behind, Lord made his way to the club. One of the club whores was at the bar, cleaning out a glass. He nodded for her to pour him a shot, which she did without question.

  After knocking it back, he headed to the parking lot where his bike was ready and waiting.

  “You’re not going on your own,” Brick said.

  “This is my job.”

  “Take Reaper with you. I’ll handle shit here.”

  He glared at Brick. “You think I need a babysitter?”

  “No, but you do need someone to rein in your anger. Do as you’re asked, please,” Brick said.

  Lord raised his brow.

  Brick held his hands up. “I don’t mean no disrespect. You know that.”

  “Do I? The way I see it, my VP thinks he can tell me what to do.”

  “Advise you. That’s it. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or worse, do something you might regret.”

  “He’s right,” Reaper said. “You fucking know it, boss.”

  He looked between his men. His temper was well known, especially when it came to defending the club, and right now, killing the rat hadn’t satisfied his hunger. When one of his informants called a week ago, he thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Someone wanted to end his club, and it wasn’t the first time. Between fighting for turf and ending clubs himself through wars, he was used to always looking over his shoulder. When it came to an insider willing to take on him and his club, well, he couldn’t have that. The betrayal was too close to home, and it didn’t help that it had been Richard Prixman. He’d helped that son of a bitch get the job and this was how he got repaid? He was pissed off. No, he was furious.

  Usually, killing the person responsible for his shit mood helped to improve it, but it had only made him angrier. He was pissed off and ready to kill even more people.

  “Then hurry the fuck up. We know this piece of shit is waiting at a barn out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have time to waste.” He clicked his fingers. “Oh, and get the rat’s daughter here too.”

  “You know Ally doesn’t live with him. She declared emancipation from him when she was fifteen. The girl’s been living on her own ever since,” Brick said.

  He didn’t allow himself to get embroiled with his workers’ business. Richard had issues, he got that, but didn’t they all? As far as he was concerned, his only regret was not killing the daughter first, so the rat could have watched her die.

  Every one of the men at the club had issues, but he didn’t hold their hands or ask them about their problems. Instead, he liked to stick to the good, old, reliable method of not giving a shit.

  “Just do it. You know how this works.”

  “Fine. We’ll bring her in.”

  Climbing on his bike, he allowed the purr to sink into his senses. The scent of oil, the leather, the roar, it was all sweet magic, but it still didn’t do enough to stem his need for blood. Gripping the handlebars, he revved the engine, not waiting for his enforcer to get ready. He was out of there. He didn’t need a sitter.

  Taking the open road, he knew this was where he belonged. For many years, he’d been wandering through life, fighting, hunting, and trying to find himself, when he discovered his place right here in this very club, Straight to Hell MC. It had once been owned by a man who went by King. He’d been the one to rule this place, to have his men bow down at his feet, but greed had set him on a path of destruction. If it hadn’t been for Lord, they’d all be dead, rotting in their graves. Life had certainly taken a dramatic turn.

  He hadn’t been prepared to take care of these men, and yet, somehow, he’d managed. He’d been able to take the role of president, to remove all the men with King’s influence, and now the club was exactly how he wanted it. Ruthless men who were one hundred percent loyal to the club, whose motives he didn’t have to question. They would always have his back. And he’d die for them in return.

  It didn’t take long for Reaper to catch up with him. His enforcer was one hell of a rider and there was never going to be any way of getting shit past him.

  Heading toward town, he noticed many people stopped to watch them. Whenever he decided to venture into town with the club to take care of business, most people tried to keep a wide berth from him. He didn’t mind at all.

  Having people near him put him on edge. He was always tempted to reach for his gun, to shoot without giving a fuck when someone pissed him off—that was just his prerogative. So, it was best to keep his distance.

  The cop who dared to defy the club lived in a little farmhouse past the town, near a patch of open road. Pulling down the old dirt road, he arrived just in time to see the man himself scamper into his home.

  Climbi
ng off his bike, he didn’t wait for Reaper. Instead, he barged into the house, grabbing the cop by the back of the neck and throwing him across the room. He landed against a ceramic urn that shattered.

  “So, you think you can just take my money, and then turn rat on me?”

  “No, please,” the cop said.

  Grabbing him by the hair, he dragged him outside, ready to kill him.

  “Wait,” Reaper said.

  Lord held the gun up, ready to train it on Reaper. “You’re sticking up for this piece of shit? Did you turn rat on me as well?” He’d kill any man within the club who even thought of turning against the Straight to Hell MC. This was a blood loyalty, live or die. There was no getting out unless you were six feet under.

  Simple as fucking that.

  “What if we got him to bring in the daughter?” Reaper asked.

  “What?”

  “The rat’s kid. You wanted her. I could call Brick off, and this guy could bring her straight to us. We take care of both problems then.”

  “Yes, don’t kill me. I’m sorry. It was all Richard’s idea. He said we could do it if I followed his orders.”

  Lord kicked him away. “You think I want to hear what a weak-ass piece of shit you are? It doesn’t surprise me you’d rather save your own ass by luring a woman here.”

  He stepped back.

  His need for blood was strong, but he couldn’t have the daughter out there running her mouth off. He didn’t know the full extent of Richard’s relationship with his kid. They may not be on speaking terms, but that didn’t mean they didn’t talk on the phone, and club business was at stake. He wasn’t going to take any risks.

  “You’ve got one week. Bring me Richard’s kid, and I’ll see how generous I am as to whether I let you walk away.” He wouldn’t. The only reason he was going to use this bastard was for a means to an end. This entire shitshow needed to be cleaned up. With a cop locating the daughter, he didn’t have to deal with potential damage control when it came to bringing her here.

  All this had done was make his life easier and prolonged the cop’s until she arrived.

  Then he’d get to have his blood.

  ****

  “Law?” Becky asked.

  “Yes, law. As in becoming a lawyer. You know, protecting the innocent and sending rotting assholes to jail?” Ally said.

  “I know what law and becoming a lawyer is all about, but isn’t that, like, really hard?”

  Ally couldn’t help but laugh, putting down a shot glass before turning away to deal with another customer. She loved her job and Riches Bar, and the tips paid well. The hours were crazy, but she was able to afford rent and even consider going to law school. Of course, if she did actually decide to go through with her plan, she was going to be so fucking broke. The thought of the debt alone was enough to make her cry.

  She never did.

  At nineteen years old, she’d been working for a long time. Ever since she was fifteen, she’d held a job. During high school, part-time at a diner. Through the summer, she worked two jobs, and since she turned eighteen, she’d been working at Riches Bar in the evening and overnight, and she still worked at the diner for lunch. She loved to work. It meant earning legal money, being able to pay her bills, and not having to depend on her father.

  Not that she ever could.

  Her father was a bad seed and got mixed into way too much sketchy business. Getting away from him was the best thing she’d ever done. He sent her birthday and Christmas cards on occasion, and he tried to talk to her during New Year’s, but she wasn’t interested in building up a relationship with him at this point. All the motions were only skin deep—he didn’t really care about her.

  No, the time he’d considered selling her to pay for a debt, that had been the final straw. He’d never actually done it, but it had gotten so close that she’d feared for her life. Unlike Becky, she didn’t come from a great family or have a wonderful childhood.

  When her mother left her trapped in a closet, it had taken her father three days to come home. She’d been eight, screaming to be let out.

  She pushed those memories aside, and instead, turned back to her friend.

  “You don’t think I’ve got it in me?” Ally asked, looking at her friend.

  “I believe you have it in you. I’ve never met anyone as smart or as determined as you, but when it comes to the law, who exactly would you be protecting?”

  “The innocent.”

  “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not the best judge of character.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me. For one thing, you’ve got the whole issue with your dad. Do you really think you can make unbiased opinions?”

  “It was an idea.”

  “Last week you wanted to be a surgeon. Do you remember?” Becky asked.

  “Why are we having this discussion?”

  “You were the one who came to me. Let’s see, in the last three months, you’ve wanted to become a nanny, a forensic scientist, an analyst, a physiotherapist, an owner of some app or another.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “I’m not done. In the past week, we’ve gone from surgeon, beautician, lawyer, hairdresser, designer, and I think one of my favorites was quilting as well.”

  Okay, she was fickle. Or maybe she was just lost with nothing and no one to ground her. Ally didn’t know what she wanted or needed out of life.

  She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I have no direction.”

  “Honey, you don’t.”

  “So, I’m undecided about how I want to take my future.” She shrugged.

  “Have you ever thought about maybe applying for another job and seeing where that takes you?”

  “Of course, I have, but I don’t want to let Ben down.” Ben was the owner of Riches place, and he’d given her a chance even though she’d never been a barmaid. Even though she got the job with a fake ID and he knew it. “It feels a little like I’m not being loyal.”

  “Please, you are loyal, but he’ll understand that even you want to have a life and do something else. Not everyone stays in the same job forever. I don’t know why we’re having this discussion. You’re nineteen. We should be fucking our problems away until Monday morning.”

  “Yeah, you can do that and not worry about the giant headache you’re going to get, and with work.”

  Becky didn’t work. She didn’t need to work. She was rich and her parents supported her. Her best friend was also five years older than her, and she’d already done a couple of years in college and hated it.

  “Sweetheart, you know I’d hire you in an instant.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t feel right. You’re my friend.” She put her hand over Becky’s. “I’ll figure out something else. I don’t know what came over me. I woke up really restless. Like I need to do something or something bad is going to happen. I don’t know.”

  “I think you need to find a good man, one with a nice big dick, and have a little fun. That’s what I believe.”

  “I’ve got to serve. Are you sticking around for a little bit?”

  Becky’s cell phone went off. “Ugh, I was going to stay, but it would appear my presence has been demanded by those of importance.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Yes, my daughterly persona is needed.” Becky leaned over the counter and Ally kissed her cheek. “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  “And think about what I said,” Becky said.

  “Sorry, I won’t be leaving here tonight with a man.”

  “Pity. You could have at least done something more interesting. Later.”

  Ally waved at her friend. The rest of her evening was uneventful. No fighting. Just serving. Beer, shots, whiskey, some cocktails.

  Ben came to join her toward the end, to hustle out the last of the customers. With the doors closed, she stuck around, cleaning up. There were a few broken glasses, which she told him about.

  “Ben, can I
ask you something?” Ally asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you ever go to college?”

  Ben laughed. “I did. I took business. I never actually passed it though. I was the guy who was always at the parties. Some of the cocktails you serve are my own creations. Why? Are you thinking of going?”

  “Sometimes. I’m not really sure what to do with my life.” Her parents hadn’t exactly been inspirational on her career choices, and she didn’t even know what happened to her mom. The last she’d heard, she was living with a junkie downtown.

  “Don’t overthink everything. Just find out what you like and go with it. It’s all anyone can do.”

  “Says the guy who owns several bars and clubs across the country.”

  “Again, a degree didn’t get me that. Go on, get out of here. I’ll finish cleaning up. Would you like me to walk you home?”

  “No, I came by car. I heard it was going to rain tonight. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “You want me to walk you out to your car?”

  “I’m good.” She didn’t like accepting help. A strength or a flaw, she wasn’t sure. If she got used to Ben being there for her, it would be impossible for her to imagine going to her car without him. She’d been taking care of herself for so long, accepting help was difficult. “See you tomorrow night.”

  “Night, Ally.”

  She grabbed her bag and jacket from the back, letting herself out the delivery entrance, toward the back of the parking lot. Her car was beneath a flickering lamp. It hadn’t been flickering for days, and now it suddenly decided it wanted to be on the out.

  Shaking her head, she moved toward her car, key at the ready. The alarm was shot, and she didn’t want to waste any cash, so she pressed the key into the lock just as she was leaned against the front of the car.

  “Ally Prixman, you’re under arrest.”