Devil's Love

by Kim Jones

  DEVIL’S LOVE

  Kim Jones

  Contents

  Bow Chicka Wow Wow

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. CHAPTER ONE

  2. CHAPTER TWO

  3. CHAPTER THREE

  4. CHAPTER FOUR

  5. CHAPTER FIVE

  6. CHAPTER SIX

  7. CHAPTER SEVEN

  8. CHAPTER EIGHT

  9. CHAPTER NINE

  10. CHAPTER TEN

  11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

  12. CHAPTER TWELVE

  13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  19. CHAPTER NINETEEN

  20. CHAPTER TWENTY

  21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  CLUBWHORE

  PATCHWHORE

  Also by Kim Jones

  About the Author

  Bow Chicka Wow Wow

  DEVIL’S LOVE

  KIM JONES

  Some die for the ones they love.

  Devil’s kill for them.

  Copyright © 2016 by Kim Jones

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book belongs to me. If you bought it, thanks! If it was loaned to you, thank you friend! If you stole it, you suck donkey balls.

  This book is also a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are of my imagination. I mean, really? You think heroes like this actually exist in real life? Well they don’t. If they did, people wouldn’t read about them, they’d go out and find their own real life book boyfriend.

  But honestly, it wouldn’t matter if the fictional men in novels existed or not. Women would still find something to bitch about. They’re too perfect. Too sweet. Dress too nice. Smell too good. We’re miserable creatures—women. Can’t be satisfied. Ever.

  So keep being imperfect, gentlemen. Truth is, it doesn’t really make it shit, anyway. But I do thank you. You’re the reason I can continue to make a living doing what I love.

  ISBN: 978-0-9910198-7-8

  For my unselfish, moody, slightly-crazy, gas-passing, beautiful, wonderful, best-best-best friend:

  Amy Ward Owens

  Acknowledgments

  Some of these are the same in all of my books. Some different. I should make a better effort at acknowledging people. But really, who the hell reads this anyway?

  To God for giving me the gift of life, writing and an eternal love.

  Reggie: All those nights spent in bed alone will be worth it one day. I hope. — Yeah… Still trying hun…

  Amy Owens: Don’t replace me. I’m trying like hell to be a better best friend. It’s just taking a little while. I dedicated this book to you, so I’m off the hook.

  Parents: We’re gonna get rich one day, I promise. — I know, I know. It didn’t happen with the last book, but this may be THE ONE.

  Sisters: You’ll be rich, too. Maybe. Definitely.

  Katy: Thank you for loving my Cook Marty. Your encouraging words help to breathe life into my characters.

  Aunt Kat: I don’t think I could’ve done this without your continued support.

  Uncle Don: I never would’ve mentioned Aunt Kat without mentioning you—after all, I am the favorite…author. Who are we kidding? I’m the favorite niece, too.

  Natasha: You held my hand. Well, in spirit. I’m not even sure you know about this book, but I’m keeping you here anyway. ;)

  Josephine: You owe me 87 88 drinks. BY THE WAY… Now that you’re engaged, I’ll never get the bastards.

  Sali: My first ever audiobook listener. I love you. I haven’t read this one to you yet. But I will.

  HNDW: This may just be the one that gets that Bahama bottom rocker. Keeping my fingers crossed!

  Hang Le: The cover—perfection. Always!!

  Amy Tannenbaum: Um…hang on. I’m checking my voicemail. Get back with you soon. This is book number 5 with you and you still treat me like a redheaded step child. But considering I still have nothing nice to say about you in the acknowledgements section of my books, I guess I’ll let it slide.

  Chelle Bliss: My a big thanks goes to you. For helping me figure out this damn Mac. You rock. I still can’t figure it out. But you’re always there to answer my call!! Actually, I’m talking to you as I write this.

  Paul Kirkley: You are too fine. Thanks for being sexy!

  Todd Jones: You make my life happy. Thank you for being here. And mixing me drinks, getting me drunk and way behind on my work. It’s because of you I’m up all damn night doing this.

  Prologue

  (Previously released as The Devil: A Devil’s Renegades Short Story)

  Marty

  “Prospect!”

  My muscles tense. My eyes search for the voice calling me. I start to stand, but then I remember—I’m not a Prospect anymore. As if I need further confirmation, I look down at the fresh patches on my cut. Three hundred and sixty-eight days of Prospecting, and I finally have what I’ve always wanted—a seat at the Devil’s Renegades Motorcycle Club’s table.

  “Old habits die hard, huh?” I look up to find Maddie watching me from the end of the bar. I’m surprised I haven’t noticed her before now.

  A year of prospecting has sharpened my vision. Focused my attention. I see everything—patch holders, ol’ ladies, signs of danger…. And just like my sight, my hearing has been finely tuned.

  I can tell the difference between friendly conversations among the men and forced ones. I don’t have to look at the ol’ ladies to know if they’re enjoying themselves, bored, irritated or buzzed.

  So the fact that the most beautiful woman who’s ever graced this place with her presence, has been standing only feet from me for an unknown amount of time, makes me feel like I’m losing my game. And I’ve only had my patch for two days.

  “Yeah,” I say, finally answering her question. “I guess they do.”

  “Well.” She forces a smile and extends her glass toward me. “Congratulations, Marty. You deserve it.” I give her a nod and take a pull from my beer. But thoughts about me becoming the newest patch holder for the Hattiesburg’s chapter is now a distant memory. All I can think about is if she’s okay.

  Less than a month ago Maddie and her sister, Dallas, were kidnapped. They’re now both home and safe, but Maddie hasn’t been the same. I fear everything that’s happened is finally taking its toll on her.

  She’s distant. Seems lost. Has cut herself off from the world. Having grown up as a little sister in the MC, she’s always felt safe—like she could be protected. Now, that safety net is gone. As a club, we failed to keep her out of harm’s way.

  We tell ourselves that there are some things even we can’t control. Those words are meant to help lessen the guilt we all feel for not doing more to prevent what happened. But they’re just words. In the end, we’re still responsible. And we’ll carry that burden for the rest of our lives.

  The door opens wide and Luke, president of the Devil’s Renegades, walks in.

  My president.

  My brother.

  He stops to give Maddie a kiss on the cheek before walking around the bar toward me. He motions with his hand for me to follow him as he walks into the room where we hold church. I close the doors behind us and take a seat in the third chair to his left.

  My seat.

  I have little time to revel in the feeling of power before Luke speaks.

  “I’m worried about Maddie,” he begins, dragging his hand down his face.
He looks tired—older. “She’s not dealing with this shit. And I don’t know what to do to help her.”

  I share his concern, but I know his is on a much deeper level. Luke not only views Maddie as his sister and responsibility, but he’s made her seven-year-old son his concern since the day he was born.

  “You want me to keep an eye on her?” He holds my gaze a minute—warning me of what I’ve always known. Maddie is off limits. To everyone. Especially the club.

  “You can trust me, Luke.”

  “I know that.” He looks torn. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that he’s in a serious relationship with Dallas, Maddie’s sister. And he feels like he’s putting one’s wellbeing ahead of the other.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  I look at this man—my brother, my superior, my friend. The man who is strong when we can’t be. The one who’s held this club together despite the bullshit that’s been thrown at him. Asking me for help doesn’t make him weak—even though he probably feels that way. It shows his strength. It proves that he’s still willing to give his pride for his club.

  “You are all Dallas has. She doesn’t have the connection to the club Maddie does. Not yet. So make her your priority, and let us handle Maddie. I’ll make it my personal responsibility to make sure she’s well taken care of.”

  It takes a few minutes for him to agree, but he finally does.

  “I’m gonna take Dallas to Tupelo for a couple weeks. Give her some time to process all this shit. I’ll make sure things with the club are handled. Just…” He drops his eyes, but not before I see the guilt in them. “Take care of my girl.”

  “Consider it done…brother.”

  My chest swells with pride at the sound of the word on my lips.

  Luke gives me his signature smirk and I see a little bit of life come back to his eyes. “Feels good, don’t it?”

  “You have no idea.” But that is a lie. He does know. All of my brothers know. Just like me, they took the pledge and dedicated their time to prove themselves to the club. It was hard. It was hell. But it was worth it. In the end, we have the one thing only few will ever experience—to be a member of the greatest brotherhood in the south.

  The Devil’s Renegades.

  It’s a little after ten that night when I knock on Maddie’s front door. The house is dark, there’s no sign of life coming from inside and I’m just before kicking the door in when it opens. Relief washes over me at the sight of her. Even with dark circles under her eyes, dressed in a baggy T-shirt and shorts, she’s still the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  Her blonde hair that just brushes her shoulders is tucked beneath a beanie. Her big, blue eyes are free of makeup and look bloodshot and lifeless, but no less breathtaking. I drop my gaze to her bare feet and she curls her pink, painted toes into the thick carpet.

  Something about that makes my cock stir under my zipper. Fuck.

  “I brought you something,” I say, my tone low and raspy. I’ve always found her attractive, but there’s something about her vulnerability that makes me feel more like a man. A man that wants to wrap her in his arms, kiss her until she’s breathless, then fuck her until she’s coming apart beneath me. But this is Maddie. And I can’t touch her. No matter how bad I want to.

  I hold out her gift and she takes it, stepping to the side so I can come in. I watch her ass for all of two seconds as she crosses the room before I drop my eyes. Don’t. Fucking. Think. About. It. I repeat the words over and over as I close the door. By the time I join her in the kitchen, I feel more in control. Then she smiles. A real smile. The smile I’ve seen for years, but have missed the past several weeks.

  “Green apples and peanut butter. How did you know?”

  “I pay attention,” I answer simply. She seems to soften a little at my admission. And I swear I hear her sigh. “I got Logan some stuff, too.” I hold up a bag containing two pints of ice cream—both his favorite flavors.

  Her smile falls and she shakes her head. “He’s spending the week with Red and Regg. They’re taking him to the rodeo. And he loves that damn chicken farm.” She curls her lip in disgust. “I don’t see how they stand the smell.”

  “Regg told me it smells like money to him,” I say, taking a seat on one of the barstools. I watch as Maddie dips a slice of the apple in the peanut butter then shoves it between her lips. I’m drawn to her mouth—shifting uncomfortably when she runs her tongue over her lower lip.

  She rambles on a few minutes about how the tart apple and sweet peanut butter together makes the perfect snack. Then she busies herself in the kitchen—making tea, rinsing a few cups, mindlessly wiping down the counters.

  All the while, I just watch and listen as she jumps from one topic to another. I know what she’s doing—avoiding the question she’s pretty sure I’m going to ask: How is she doing? I’m not going to. I can see the answer in her actions. Instead, I ask another question.

  “You got plans tonight?” She stills, then shakes her head before continuing to stir the tea. “I thought about going out, but there’s a new movie coming on Lifetime tonight I’d like to see and my cable is out.”

  This time, she looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

  The corner of my lip turns up and I nod. “Yeah. I don’t watch Lifetime.”

  She lets out a small laugh. It’s not much, but it’s something. And I’m surprised at how much I’ve missed the sound.

  “I, uh … I mean … ”

  She struggles to tell me what’s really on her mind and I silently urge her to just say it. Whatever it is, I’ll agree to. As long as there’s a chance it’ll make her happy.

  “We can watch a movie. If you want to,” she quickly adds. “But you can go out. I don’t want you to feel—.”

  I cut her off before she can finish. “I want to.” Her relief is a little too obvious, and her cheeks darken when she realizes it. To keep her from feeling embarrassed, I add, “But only if it’s cool with you. My cable really is out.” Giving her an actual reason for me being here makes the lie worth it.

  The last thing I want is for her to feel like some charity case. That’s not why I’m here. It might have been my intention to come because I told Luke I would, but I’m quickly realizing there’s no other place I want to be.

  She shrugs nonchalantly and I have to fight my smile. “It’s cool. I don’t mind.”

  “Good.” I stand and pull my cut from around my shoulders. She watches me out of the corner of her eye. But when I pull my hoodie over my head, causing my T-shirt to rise up, her eyes unabashedly fall to my stomach. And the spark of desire doesn’t go unnoticed. My dick twitches in my pants again, and I’m thankful when she turns her back to me—avoiding my gaze as she carries the tea to the refrigerator.

  I’ve been to Maddie’s house with the club a couple of times, but this is my first time alone. Her home is simple, but has a welcoming feel. The open layout allows you to see the living room, kitchen and dining room at the same time.

  Pictures of Logan, thrift store artwork and a few of the club are scattered on the walls and coffee table. One couch sits in the living room along with a bean-bag chair that belongs to Logan. I take a seat on one end of the couch and she joins me on the other.

  “Got any preferences?” she asks, punching buttons on the remote until the guide pops up on the screen.

  “Anything is good with me.”

  It’s not like I’m going to watch the damn thing anyway. I can’t take my eyes off her—the way she curls her legs under her. Or the way she mindlessly rubs her thumb over her knee. Damn. Who knew knees could be sexy? I clench my hands into fists at my sides to keep from reaching out and touching—touching those knees. That skin. This girl.

  “How about Rocky?” An action movie. A half-naked, sweaty man. A great way to not get a hard on.

  “Perfect.”

  Typing in the channel number, she settles further into the couch. Ten minutes into the movie, she shifts her po
sition so her legs are out from under her. Her foot dangles off the side of the couch—dangerously close to my leg.

  I want to touch her. I want to see if her leg is as smooth as I think it is. I’ve never been the type of man who doesn’t go after what he wants. The problem with this girl is I can’t have her.

  Fuck it.

  Grabbing her ankle, I pull her foot into my lap. I don’t give her brain time to register what’s happening or mine time to talk me out of this, I just work my thumbs into the heel of her foot. It feels small in my hand, soft and smooth—just like I knew it would.

  I meet her disbelieving stare, daring her to tell me to stop. She surprises the shit outta me when she places her other foot in my lap. “Had I have known you were good at foot massages, I’d have invited you over a long time ago.”

  “You don’t have a lot of time to do anything when you’re prospecting,” I admit, continuing to work the spot on her heel when her eyes flutter.

  “I’ve never had a man, other than the one who does my pedicures, massage my feet.”

  “Really?” What kind of pieces of shit had she been dating that didn’t rub her feet? I thought that was mandatory in a relationship. And not just foot massages—back, shoulder and neck massages too, which in turn, lead to sex.

  “Have you forgotten the ‘don’t touch Maddie’ code everyone on the face of the planet lives by?” she asks, a look of sadness in her eyes.

  No. I haven’t forgot. And the reminder that I’m betraying my brother is like a punch to the gut.

  “I thought that just applied to the club.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. That applies to everyone. Besides, who wants to get to know a girl who constantly has a biker as a bodyguard?”

  After the hell Logan’s father put Maddie through, Luke made damn sure to keep eyes on her when she went out. I’d been hanging around the club long enough to know that wherever she went, someone associated with the Renegades wasn’t very far behind. I guess I never really paid much attention to how protective Luke actually was.