DIRTY DESIRES: A Devil Kings MC Story

by Nicole James

  “Just tell me where the damn key is.”

  “You been to the clubhouse?”

  I frown. “The MC? Why the hell would I go there?”

  “I need you to get some information for me. Give it to some of my old brothers.”

  “What do you mean, old brothers?”

  “It’s club business, okay. You don’t need to know.”

  I actually huff out a laugh. I hold all the cards right now. “If you want my help, you’ll tell me.”

  “You want that key, you’ll do what I say, no questions.”

  I shrug and start to stand.

  “Sit down,” he hisses.

  I do. I’ve made my point. I can walk out the door, and he won’t see me again.

  “Okay, look, I want to know what my club’s been up to. Is that so much to ask?”

  “So, call them.”

  “It ain’t that easy.”

  “What do you care what they’re up to? What difference does it make?”

  “Like I said, don’t plan to be in here long. My attorney says I got a good shot at getting this conviction overturned.”

  “Really?” That’s not good news. Although he is my father, the world is a better place with assholes like him off the streets. He’s never done anybody any good.

  He nods.

  “And how am I supposed to get information on the club for you? They don’t know me. None of them have laid eyes on me since I was a child.”

  “You’re my daughter.”

  “Don’t think that carries much weight anymore, considering your current circumstances. Mom says they’ve got a new president, a new VP, and everything’s different now.”

  “That’s why I need you to get me information. All the old trusted members are gone, run off, or dead.”

  I sigh. If I know one thing about this man, it’s that he’s more stubborn than my mother. “Again, how do I do that?”

  “You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to spin your web around one of them.”

  Ew. Gross. “If you think I’m sleeping with one of those dirty bikers, forget it.”

  “Nobody said you had to fuck ‘em. Have your mother contact one of them and ask for a favor. Get him to drive you down to visit me. Make up a story why. That’ll give you hours to wheedle the information out of him.”

  “What information?”

  “I want to know everything about their plans for the Sturgis trip comin’ up in a few months. The day they’re leavin’, who’s stayin’ behind, where they’re stoppin’ over. Everything you can find out.”

  “But isn’t that club business? Why would they talk to me about it?”

  “Come on, I’m sure you can figure out a way to get that information for me. You do, I’ll tell you where the key is.”

  “She needs that money, Dad.” I break down and use the word, reminding him he has some responsibility.

  “Then do this for me, and it’s yours.”

  I shake my head. He’s such a dick, but what choice do I have?

  “Come back next weekend.”

  Fucking hell.

  There’s a loud beeping noise, and all the inmates stand.

  “Ten o’clock count,” he tells me and moves off to stand with the other men.

  They line up against the wall. The guards tell us there’s no moving from our seats and no talking until the count is finished.

  Finally, when Growler returns, he doesn’t look so smug anymore, and I think I know why. He’s just been reminded of who holds all the power in here, and it’s not him. It must be awful in this place, day after day, being told when to eat, when to sleep, where to stand, where to sit, especially for a man who’s fallen so far, all the way from the head of the table of the most badass MC in the state, where he held the gavel and ran things, to being reduced to nothing more than cattle in the eyes of the Georgia Bureau of Prisons.

  He sits and chugs down the rest of the Coke, then takes the second one and pops the top.

  “How’s the food in here?” I can’t help twisting the knife.

  “How do you think? It’s not fit for a dog, what there is of it.” He holds the bag of chips up, shaking the crumbs into his mouth. “Got any more money for the vending machines?”

  I shake my head. “I used all the singles I had.”

  He crumples up the second bag. “Next time get the beef jerky and Mountain Dew.” With that he stands.

  I look up at him. I guess the visit is over.

  “See ya next week, Tess.”

  He turns and walks to the guards and tells them he wants to return to his cell. I guess that’s preferable to spending time with his daughter. But then again, I have no more vending machine snacks to offer him or money to buy more, so I guess my usefulness is over for today. Asshole.

  I walk through security and make it out into the sunshine, never so happy to be under the baking sun as I am in this moment. That depressing building sucked the very life out of me. I don’t want to ever go back. I feel for people like Nessa and the other family members who come here week after week to see their loved ones. It’s like they’re sentenced, too. I couldn’t do it. But maybe if I had someone I actually loved inside I could find the strength. As it is, it looks like I’ll have to muster the backbone to come back again at least once, maybe more than once, depending on what games my father is playing. I hate that I have to play along in order to get that damn key. I’d like nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself.

  I scan the parking lot, looking for my mother’s old beater of a car. No one is allowed to wait in the parking lot, so they have to go and come back. I wonder if she’s passed out drunk at the motel.

  I hear her before I see her. The knocking engine is loud and the muffler half falling off. She pulls to the curb, and I hop in and slam the door. She hits the gas and circles around and down the drive.

  She looks over at me. “Well? He tell you?”

  “He’s got some stipulations first.”

  “Goddamn it,” she hisses and throws her cigarette out the window.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tess—

  One week later—

  I sit in a window booth of the Sunset Diner, across from my mother. She’s thin and wearing a black tank top, all her tattoos on full display. My mother is in her late forties, but I can still see that she must have been beautiful when she was younger. Now years of drugs and alcohol have taken their toll. She brings the coffee cup to her mouth, her boney fingers covered in silver rings.

  Her blonde hair is in a braid, held back from her face by a pink bandana with a spangled patch in the symbol of a cross sewn on the front. She’s totally rocking her inner biker chick.

  I inherited her high cheekbones and good bone structure. I also have blonde hair and blue eyes like her; though my hair is a golden blonde and hers has been lightened so many times it’s almost white-blonde. She was young when she had me, and sometimes people confuse us for sisters, which I find creepy.

  “So, what exactly did you tell this guy?” I ask.

  “I told him I needed a favor. Played on his guilt and the fact that I used to hold some respect in the club. Maybe we never had the family thing that most MCs have, but Growler was his president and I was his president’s ol’ lady. Surely he could spare me one fucking favor.”

  “And?”

  “He said he’d do it. Besides, he owes me a favor. I told him I wanted this to be under the radar. That I didn’t want the rest of the club to know I asked for help. I still have some pride you know.”

  “And?”

  “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

  “You think you can trust that?”

  “I know this brother. If he gives his word, it’s golden.”

  I wasn’t so sure about my mother’s character judgment, given her track record in picking men. I stare at the tabletop, wishing I was anywhere else.

  The bell over the door tinkles as someone enters.

  “That’s him.”

&
nbsp; I lift my head and watch her eyes focus over my shoulder toward the entrance. Suddenly I’m frozen, afraid to look. I’m terrified I’ll have to spend time with some greasy old man with a greying ZZTop beard and a beer belly. I don’t want to think about trying to flirt with a man like that, trying to cajole information out of him. Maybe if I get him drunk, I can get him to tell me whatever information my father wants. Problem is, I’m sure every last rat bastard member of the Devil Kings can drink me under the table with no trouble at all.

  My mother’s eyes shift up, and I feel a presence standing at my side. I have my hand to my temple, averting my face from his gaze. Finally, I glance up and take in the man who has promised to drive me down to the prison to see my father.

  My eyes widen. Oh. My. God. I want to crawl under the table.

  I have to give him credit though, his eyes barely give away the fact he recognizes me, but I see it.

  “Gypsy!” My mother stands and hugs him. Over her shoulder, he stares at me, giving me a smirk of a look that warns me I’m in such trouble.

  My eyes slide shut. Fucking hell. Of all the men in my father’s club, why did it have to be him?

  “This her?” he asks.

  My mother pulls free of his arms and turns to me. “Yes, this is Tess, my daughter.”

  And suddenly I’m catapulted back to the first time I laid eyes on him.

  Three years ago—

  “Here ya go, biker princess!” My BFF Hayley pushes a shot of Fireball into my hand as we stand around the high top table in the crowded dive bar, music blasting.

  I take it but roll my eyes. “Knock it off, Hayley. You know I’ve never wanted anything to do with my father’s MC.”

  “You can say that again,” Carla adds, screwing up her face and doing a whole-body shiver.

  Hayley lifts a brow. “Whatever.” She raises her shot glass, and they all follow suit. “Happy twenty-first birthday, brat!”

  “Here, here, and the last one of us to do it,” Melody shouts out.

  “Thanks, babes,” I reply, and we all down them.

  Hayley, who’s been my best friend since fourth grade when we fought over Jimmy Wilkes, knows me better than anyone. She cocks her head and immediately reads my mood. “You just turned twenty-one, Tess, you should be more excited than this. What’s the matter?”

  I shrug. I’m not sure I even know. I work at the local food bank, passing out groceries, delivering meals to seniors and sometimes helping plan fundraising events and soliciting donations from corporations. It’s a job I love. I’ve also got great friends, and I’m young with my whole life ahead of me. If you don’t count my fucked up family, things are great.

  “I know what’s wrong with her,” Carla chimes in. “She needs to get laid.”

  They all burst out laughing.

  Ha-ha, hilarious. Men nearby turn to stare, and I want to curl up and die of embarrassment.

  Melody bites down on her stir straw and lifts her index finger from her rum and Coke to point toward the dartboards. “How about that guy? He’s cute. Bet he’d be up for a go.” She giggles.

  Hayley twists to look over her shoulder. “No way. It’s like you don’t even know Tess at all. She likes ‘em tall and blond. Oh, and she likes facial hair.” She bumps my shoulder and gives me that look, the one that says she knows all my secrets, and she’s not above teasing me with them.

  I roll my eyes and bump her back.

  “You mean like that guy at the end of the bar?” Carla asks.

  We all turn to follow her gaze, and that’s when I spot him. Holy hell. He’s tall and rugged looking with a square jaw lined with the perfect amount of facial hair that grows along his jaw bone and encircles his mouth. It glints with golden highlights in the lights from the bar.

  “Oh, my God,” Hayley murmurs softly beside me. Then I feel an elbow jab in the ribs, and she hisses in my ear. “Go buy him a drink or something.”

  This is my first damn night in a bar, not that I haven’t partied before. I was quite the hellion in high school, not to mention the tailgates parties we’d all have down by the river practically every weekend. But this is different. This is walking over to a grownass man in a bar and hitting on him.

  I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge though, and my girls all know it.

  Melody grins and clinches the deal. “I dare you, Tess.”

  I lift my chin. Why the hell not? I feel good tonight. I’m wearing my favorite low cut jeans and the cute blouse I treated myself to today. It’s black, sleeveless, and tied up around my waist showing off the abs I’ve worked so hard for.

  I feel confident. Why not be brave and do it? I look back at the man in question. The guy is gorgeous, and he appears to be alone.

  I get up from our table, and my girls all hoot and holler as I focus in on him. The ruckus draws his attention, and he glances over, and then does a double take when I catch his eye. I run my hand through my hair, pulling back the long blonde locks that hang almost to my ass. I give it my best slow sexy strut as I walk across the room. His gaze moves down my body, then sweeps back up to latch onto mine, and we hold eyes until I’m standing right in front of him.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says.

  “Hey, handsome. Have a drink with me?” I cock my head and smile.

  The corner of his mouth pulls up. “Absolutely. What’ll you have?” he asks, already snapping his fingers twice for the bartender.

  “Seven & Seven.”

  “What brings you out tonight?” he asks, pushing up the sleeves of the thermal he’s got on under a denim shirt. There’s lots of yummy ink revealed. I can’t really tell what it all is, but I catch some skulls.

  He stands and slides his barstool out for me. I sit. “Well, actually, it’s my birthday.”

  His gaze cuts over to the table where my friends sit, all staring back at us then quickly looking away.

  “That your posse?”

  I grin. “Posse. I like that. Yes, that’s my posse.”

  His gaze moves over my face, and I swear it’s like a caress.

  “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

  “Tess.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Sandy Springs.”

  “So, Tess from Sandy Springs, how many candles in your cake today?”

  I take a sip of the drink the bartender sets before me. “Twenty-one.”

  He lifts a brow. “That’s a big day. Finally legal, huh? This your big night out on the town?”

  “It is.”

  “You plan to hit all the hot spots? Surely, this dive can’t be it for a big night like this.”

  I shrug and glance around. “I don’t know. I kind of like this place. Don’t you?”

  “First time I’ve ever come in here, to tell you the truth.” His eyes skate down me again. “But I’m liking it so far.”

  I give him the once-over right back. “Me, too.”

  He chuckles, and it’s a deep rich sound that draws me in, and I lean closer.

  His eyes drop to my mouth, and a moment later he’s kissing me. And oh, my God, can this man kiss. It’s not like any kiss I’ve ever had before. Not like Jake, the quarterback I dated in high school. Not like Ryan, the dirt track racer I met at Dixie Speedway last year. Not even like Brody, Hayley’s big brother, who I crushed on all my senior year. Nope. This guy’s better than all of them, and I don’t even know his name.

  Finally he pulls back and stares at my mouth.

  “Damn,” he breathes, and I flush, thrilled he’s as enthralled with my kiss as I am with his. “Want to get out of here, Tess from Sandy Springs?”

  Breaking all our girl gang rules, I go and tell my friends I’m leaving with him. Hayley insists on taking a picture of his driver’s license before she’ll let me leave with him.

  “Okay, Landon LaCroix, you’re free to go.” She hands it back to him. It’s then I first hear his full name.

  He leads me to his pickup truck and opens the door for me. This is the South, b
ut even here not all guys are brought up with manners, and I’m pleased he knows how to treat a lady.

  I climb in and notice how spotless the interior is, which surprises me.

  The truck rocks with his weight as he slides behind the wheel.

  We make idle chit chat as he drives about fifteen minutes to an older split-level. The street is rather dark, and there’s only one bulb burning over the garage door. He shuts off the truck and comes around and opens the door for me, then takes my hand and leads me to the garage entrance. He flicks on a small light, and I spot a bench of tools along one wall, the usual garage clutter and then something shiny catches my eye. I turn to see a gleaming black Harley parked in the farthest bay of the two-car garage.

  “You ride?” I ask as he pulls me up some steps to the door that leads into the house.

  “Yup,” he replies, not stopping. The man’s on a mission, and apparently he’s done with small talk. We move through a darkened house, down a hall and into his bedroom.

  He drops my hand and closes the door behind me.

  “Do you own this place?” I ask on a whisper, my back to him, taking in the bed.

  He doesn’t ask for permission as he yanks me against him, reminding me he has no problem taking control.

  “Don’t want to talk,” he says in a low voice at my ear, and I feel the heat of his body seeping into my back.

  I can handle what he’s dishing out. I’m not afraid. I arch against him, lolling my head to the side as he kisses my neck. His hands move from my hips up to close over my breasts and squeeze.

  I drag in a breath.

  “Not too late to run, angel.”

  I shake my head, too breathless to speak. I feel his erection pressing against my bottom even through his jeans, and my head falls back on his shoulder.

  “I want more than a taste. I want the whole fucking package—you all laid out and unwrapped for me like a gift from heaven. You gonna give that to me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He gathers my long hair and pushes it out of his way, giving him better access to my neck. While he seduces me with his mouth on my tender skin, his hands drop to my belt, and before I know it, he’s got it and my pants undone.