Her Devils: Devil's Regents MC Books 1-3

by Sarah Bale

  I fall in step next to Hawk.

  “How have you been, man?”

  Hawk used to be a member of our chapter in Georgia. When it was time for Saint to pick his club officers, Hawk packed up without saying a word to anyone. I asked Saint about it once. He was going to offer Hawk the Vice President spot. For some reason Hawk didn’t want the gig, so he left. Last I’d heard he was in Texas, so I was fucking surprised to see him here. But that’s the life of a nomad, I guess.

  “Good,” he grunts. “You?”

  “I’ll be better once we get the fucker who’s messing with us.”

  “Heard it was over a bitch.”

  My ire rises and then I see the fucking smug look on his face. I’d forgotten what a dick Hawk can be.

  “Don’t let Saint hear you call her that.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Saint’s with her, too? Must be serious, then.”

  “It is. Olivia, well, she’s the fucking love of my life. I think the others feel the same way, too.”

  “The others?” He shakes his head. “You four always did do things your own way.”

  “Speaking of, what in the fuck are you doing out here?”

  He shrugs. “Grunge needed some help with a project that I excel at. Told him I’d come out here and get the job done.”

  Hawk is the most vicious killer I’ve ever met. Ever. Saint once said that watching him kill is watching an artist at work. He’s not wrong, either. So, whatever this project with Grunge is, well, Hawk’s definitely killing someone.

  “How long are you going to stay out here, man? You could transfer back to Georgia. Hell, or even Texas.”

  “And have to deal with King’s bitch-ass wounded pride. I think not.”

  King and Hawk have always had beef. Guess that’s what happens when you’re fighting to sit at Saint’s right hand. Me, I’ve always been just fine where I’m at.

  “Any idea where you’ll go next?”

  He glances over. “Are we fucking twelve-year-old girls now, Razor? What’s with the questions?”

  “Just trying to catch up, man.”

  “Well, stop. We’re not friends. We haven’t been in a long time.”

  He shoves past me and catches up to Grunge, muttering something under his breath. Hawk’s always been a complicated dude. Guess nothing’s changed.

  Grunge calls out, “Your boy is over here.”

  Sure enough, Bash is leaning against a rock. Even from here, I can see the t-shirt he’s wearing is wet with blood.

  “Fuck. How has he survived this long out here in this condition?”

  As we get closer, the first thing I notice is that his skin tone is off. He looks almost gray and his cheeks are sunken in. And he’s lost a lot of weight. That can’t be good.

  “Bash. Can you hear me, man?”

  Bash doesn’t move.

  Hawk kicks one of Bash’s outstretched legs. “Rise and shine, motherfucker.”

  This gets a reaction from Bash. “Leave me alone.”

  I squat so I’m eye level with him. “Bash. Dude. What are you doing?”

  “Atoning for my sins.” He opens his eyes, which are bloodshot. “I deserve this. I deserve to die.”

  I’m not sure he even knows who I am. His eyes are dilated and unfocused.

  “You’re not thinking clear, man. We need to get you out of here and back home. Liv needs us.”

  Bash snorts. “She doesn’t need me.”

  “Bash-”

  “Leave me alone, Razor. I’m not going back.”

  Well, maybe he’s more aware than I thought.

  I stand, turning to Hawk. “Can I get some help here?”

  Hawk pulls a gun from the holster at his hip. For a split second I’m not sure what he’s going to do. He flips the gun and hits Bash in the back of the head with the handle. Bash lets out a deep groan and falls to the side.

  “What the fuck, Hawk!”

  Hawk puts his gun back in the holster, then bends, tossing Bash over his shoulder.

  “Grunge’s guys have been trying to reason with him for days. This is the only way you’re getting him out of here.” He turns to Grunge. “Got a doctor on standby?”

  Grunge hoots in delight. “I’ll tell him to meet us at the clubhouse.”

  Hawk nods and takes off, not waiting to see if anyone follows.

  I catch up. “You should be glad Saint isn’t here.”

  “I hope this fucker is worth it. If it were me, I would leave him out here to die.”

  “Good thing it’s not up to you.”

  We finally make it back to our bikes and Grunge’s truck. Hawk dumps Bash in the back and climbs in next to him.

  Grunge asks, “Why are you riding back there?”

  “In case he wakes up and decides to jump. I really don’t want to clean brains off the pavement.”

  Grunge shrugs and gets in the truck. Hawk is right – there’s no telling what Bash will do when he wakes up.

  I ask, “Want me to ride your bike back?”

  Hawk nods. “Yeah. But if I find one scratch on it, you’re dead.”

  Most guys won’t let anyone else ride their bike, but I guess he must trust me on some level. I glance at him and find him glaring at me. Or he’ll literally kill me if anything happens to his bike. The truck takes off and Hawk stares me down until I can’t see him. Damn. I forgot how intense he is.

  His bike is massive and rumbles to life when I start it. Personally, I think when someone rides a motorcycle this big, they’re compensating for something else, but to each their own.

  The sun beats down on my back as head back to the clubhouse. By the time I pull up, I’m sweating and the skin on my neck is blistered.

  One of Grunge’s club officers laughs. “Forget your sunscreen, princess?”

  “Fuck off,” I answer, even though he’s right.

  Grunge’s clubhouse is older than shit. Most of his members are older, too, and only care about fucking and getting fucked up. Neither of those require a nice clubhouse, so he hasn’t kept the building updated. The door is guarded by two men, but the actual door is hanging on by a single hinge. They let me pass with a nod and I try not to gag at the scent that assaults my nose as I enter. Judging by the smell, there’s a very big sewage problem somewhere in the building.

  Hawk is at the bar, tossing back a drink. He pushes one toward me when I join him.

  “I left your bike with one of the Prospects.”

  He grunts. “Good.”

  “Where’s Bash?”

  “The doc took him upstairs. Said he’ll let us know when he’s done looking him over.”

  There’s no sense in calling Saint until I know something solid.

  I get another whiff of shit and ask, “How in the fuck do you deal with the smell?”

  Hawk looks up from his drink. “What smell?”

  “Whatever. I’ll be outside. Have someone find me when the doc is finished with Bash.”

  Hawk salutes me with his glass. When I step outside, I take in a deep breath of fresh air. I don’t know how any of those motherfuckers can deal with the smell. My stomach feels unsettled and my legs are shaky. There’s a bench that’s in the shade of the clubhouse, so I sit on it, leaning back. Fuck. Hopefully, the doctor finishes with Bash and says we can get the hell out of here.

  Something wet touches my arm and I open my eyes. Hawk is there, a water bottle in hand. I take it, drinking half of it in one gulp.

  “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. People tend to forget we’re in the fucking desert and don’t stay hydrated.” He sits next to me. “What’s going on in Georgia?”

  “I knew you cared.”

  I grin at his scowl.

  “Fuck off, Razor.”

  “Our girl-”

  “The one with the magic pussy?”

  I ignore him and go on, “Someone is after our girl. They’re the ones who attacked Bash.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “It’s her father
.”

  “Fuck. What are you going to do about it?”

  “We’re going to kill him.”

  He nods. “Good. If you need any help, give me a call. I’ll be finished here in a week or so, unless I decide to hang around here for a bit.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We sit there in silence as the sun finally begins to set. A Prospect comes out occasionally, bringing us water, but other than that, we both keep to ourselves.

  Finally, an older man comes out, blood smeared on his dingy apron.

  “You Razor?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He snorts. “Ain’t been called sir in years. Just call me Holy. Your friend can have visitors, but he’s madder than a snake right now. Damn near knocked me out when he came to.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Physically, yes. Mentally, well, that remains to be seen. He should be good to travel in a week or so.”

  “Thank you, Holy.”

  When he’s gone, Hawk asks, “What made him break?”

  “He killed someone to get information.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Not everyone likes killing, Hawk.”

  “No one likes killing, you dumb fuck, but it has to be done to keep the balance. He should know that. Wasn’t he in the Army with King?”

  “This was different.”

  He nods. “Everyone has a breaking point. He must have found his.”

  “I’m not sure how I’m going to get through to him. We need him back in Georgia. Olivia needs him.”

  “Hate to break it to you, brother, but you might not get through to him. Sometimes, people just can’t get over it.” He takes a drink of water. “The look in his eyes back in the desert – well, if I were you, I’d be making plans that don’t involve him.”

  When I glance at him, he’s looking off into the distance. Maybe he knows more about what Bash is feeling than he’s letting on, and that worries the hell out of me.

  7

  Saint

  I watch as one of the Prospects drops a box, spilling parts everywhere. For fuck’s sake.

  Biting back a curse, I call out, “Make sure you wipe those off before putting them on the shelf.”

  The Prospect’s face darkens in a blush, but he nods and scrambles to pick up the parts. Fucking hell. Liv was right – I should have stayed my ass in bed today, but there’s so much that needs to be done. It would be a hell of a lot easier if my club officers were here, at my side, but that won’t be happening for a while.

  My phone dings and I glance at it.

  Razor: Bash is looking better today.

  Me: Good. When are you coming home?

  Three dots appear, then disappear. Twice.

  “Fuck.” Lifting my phone, I call Razor. “What’s going on up there?”

  There’s commotion in the background, and someone curses obscenities that would make a sailor blush.

  “Is that Bash?”

  “Yeah. Hold on. Give me a second.”

  Someone on his end calls out, “Fucking hold his arms down.”

  There’s a loud scream and then nothing. What in the fuck is going on out there?

  “Okay. I’m back.”

  “Care to tell me what in the hell that was?”

  “We were giving Bash a sedative.”

  “Why does he need one?”

  “I’m sure you could hear him.” He sighs. “He’s doing better physically, but not mentally, Saint. He tried to kill himself last night. Holy has him on suicide watch today, and he just tried to attack Hawk.”

  I breath out. “Fuck. Did he know who he was fighting?”

  “Yes. Got a few good hits in before Hawk pinned him to the floor. I wasn’t sure if Hawk was going to stop at that, Saint. He was pissed, but so was Bash.”

  “Do I need to come up there?”

  It’s horrible timing, but if it needs to be done, I’ll go.

  “I think we’ve got it under control. Hopefully we’ll be able to talk some sense in him.” He lets out a laugh. “One of the old ladies is a psychiatrist. She’s coming over after work to talk to him.”

  “Good.”

  “How’s everything up there? How’s Liv?”

  “She’s doing the same. Our girl is strong.”

  “Any signs of her father?”

  “None.”

  “And that worries you?”

  I go outside, needing to move. My fucking back is aching like crazy. “Yeah. It does.”

  “How’s King?”

  “Haven’t heard much from him. Agent Hill says he still doesn’t want visitors.”

  This makes Razor sigh. “These fuckers need to get their shit together. There’s a war coming, and we need all the help we can get.”

  “I agree.”

  “Speaking of help – Hawk said he’d come out to Georgia, if you need him.”

  This surprises me and, at the same time, doesn’t. Hawk’s a complicated guy. He’s never followed the rules, which is why he does so well as a nomad. When it was time for me to pick a VP after my first one died, it came down to Hawk and King. Before I could even talk to him about it, he packed up and left. I know I made the right choice in picking King, but I’ve often wondered what kind of part Hawk could have played as a club officer.

  “Tell him I appreciate it, and we will take him up on the offer.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know.” The astonishment is apparent in his voice.

  “Go on. Ask me.”

  “What?”

  “Razor, just spit it out.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring him to Georgia right now? He and King have never gotten along.”

  “That’s true.” I agree. “But we’re going to do everything in our power to keep Liv safe. King will get over it, just like Bash will come to his senses.”

  “I hope you’re right, man.”

  “I am. Let me know when you and Bash are on your way to Savannah.”

  I end the call without waiting for him to answer. He’s right to question how King is going to react when he finds out Hawk is coming back, but right now we need to put all of our energy on finding Liv’s father and fucking killing him.

  When I go back inside, I’m pleasantly surprised to see the amount of work that’s been done.

  “Good job, boys. Keep it up and the beer is on me tonight.”

  The cheers make me smile as I go to my office and lift the phone. It’s time to see what Agent Hill has to say.

  Agent Hill

  I groan when Saint Massacre’s name flashes on my screen. Never thought I’d be chatting with a former outlaw biker nearly every day, but here we are.

  “Agent Hill speaking.”

  “Any updates?”

  It’s the same conversation we’ve been having for the last month. I’m getting tired of it, but, if it were me, I guess I’d be doing the same thing. Loosening my tie, I lean back in my chair. I’ve been dreading this conversation.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “My guys lost track of him. We believe he left the state.”

  Saint scoffs. “But he’ll be back.”

  “He’ll be back,” I agree. No sense in sugar coating it.

  “Razor is with Bash in Nevada. Says he’s doing okay, but his mind is still fucked up.”

  I’ve seen Sebastian ‘Bash’ Khadem’s file. He went off the deep end once before, while he was still in the Army. He damn near killed a man in his unit, and what he did to himself was even worse. I can only imagine what his mental state is now. Sure, the Devil’s Regents MC haven’t said anything outright, but I suspect he did something that caused him to lose it. And, from my experience, there are only a few things that can cause a man to go off the deep end like that.

  I say, “If you need any help getting him back, let me know.”

  “Thanks. Not sure how well that’d go over, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

  There’s a loud clanging in the backgroun
d, and Saint lets out a curse under his breath.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the new clubhouse, in the shop.”

  “Didn’t think you were supposed to be working right now.”

  Saint chuckles. “Now you sound like Liv.”

  “Seriously, Saint. You shouldn’t overdo it.”

  “I’m not. I’m overseeing the boys. We’re moving parts into the shop so we can start taking on clients.” He pauses. “I meant it when I said we wouldn’t waste our second chance.”

  Saint Massacre has surprised me every step of the way. When he first crossed my radar, all I could see was a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang. Now, I see someone who’s a true leader. He’s done everything by the books in getting this shop up and running. Crossed every T and dotted every I. To be honest, I’m proud of him.

  “That’s good to know.”

  Saint pauses. “How’s King?”

  I knew this question was coming.

  “He’s the same. Still won’t take any visitors. Gabrielle—Dr. Cross has been to see him a few times.”

  “That woman is a miracle worker.”

  She truly is. She helped my daughter through something I wasn’t sure she’d come back from. For that alone, I will be in her debt for the rest of my life.

  I say, “She thinks King has a lot of misplaced anger with the fire.”

  “Toward me?”

  The pain is his voice is obvious. If I were in his shoes, I suppose I’d blame myself, too.

  “No, toward himself. Hopefully, Gab- Dr. Cross will help him work through this.”

  “You seem awfully close to the good doctor, Agent Hill.”

  I roll my eyes. “Have a nice day, Saint.”

  “Wait. Are you going to see King today?”

  “It’s Wednesday, so yes. Why?”

  “See if you can get through to him. Dr. Cross is great, but a man like King needs that extra push. Since I can’t do it, I’m hoping you will.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Goodbye, Mr. Massacre.”

  I end the call and stand. He’s right. Sometimes we all need a push in the right direction.

  King

  I groan as the physical therapist helps me back into bed. Everything hurts. So much. And my legs feel like gelatin. Fuck. How am I ever going to get back to where I was physically before the fire?