Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2)

by Amo Jones

  “Hella?” Beast breaks my thoughts. “Your stand on this?”

  Shit.

  “On…?”

  “Are you even fucking listening?” Beast questions.

  “No. I wasn’t. Got shit on my mind. What was it?”

  His eyebrows pinch together. “At the moment, the ball is back in Kurr’s hands. We need to change that. They’ve been caught riding around town more than once.”

  I nod. “We don’t really have any options right now, brother. The best thing to do right now would be to let it play out a little longer. If we don’t, we have a lot to risk. They have nothing.”

  “You suggesting we leave them for now?” Beast asks, leaning into his chair.

  “Yes. For now. He’ll be testing us to see if we lose our shit and go in, guns-blazing. We could have Zane’s tech guy search for their whereabouts, and he’d find them too,” I add, watching him carefully. “So there’s no rush. We’re aware of what they’re doing. We up the security and wait it out, see what their next move is. If they wanted us out, they would have done something a long time ago.”

  “He’s right,” Frost adds. “We need to lay low and be diligent.”

  Beast looks at me. “I want Zane’s guy to find where they are. We need something playing in our field.”

  “And if they find out that we’re searching for them?” I question him. Beast is my president, but we became brothers a long time ago. He needs me because I’ll always question his every move.

  “Then we’ll deal with it. We need to know where they are.”

  I look to Frost who’s watching me closely. He agrees with me, I can see it. It’s not a good idea, but once Beast has his mind stuck on something, he won’t let go.

  “Alright, I’ll make the call,” I say to him.

  “Don’t tell Abby. She won’t want to relive all that shit again.”

  Abby’s the girl I grew up with in one of the foster homes. She’s the girl we went to when we escaped, finding her at the Sinful Souls MC clubhouse playing princess and detective. She got taken a few months ago by The Army before they made a deal with her and let her go. No one knows what that deal is, or what it involved, but it’d be something sick for them to let her go. She is an asset to anyone though; she keeps Zane—the president of the Sinful Souls—and his boys out of trouble.

  “Yeah, gotcha,” I confirm.

  Beast looks at Ripper. “Our other issue: how’re those Vixens?”

  Everyone erupts into laughter as Ripper runs his hand over his face. Ripper, at twenty-four, is one of the younger ones, but his level of psycho is so far into the dark, no one can match it. There’s a reason he’s called Ripper. The sick fuck takes pleasure in his extra activities, too.

  His lip curls. “Not bad. They’re behaving, if that’s what you’re asking. How long do I have put up with this shit though, man? They’re living in my fucking house and everything. My stepsister is supposed to be coming over in a couple weeks. Tell me they’ll be gone before then because although Ava is small and preppy, she’d probably still tear Ashley a new hole.”

  I smirk at the mention of Ava. “When’s she coming?” I nudge my head at Ripper.

  His eyes narrow. “Fuck off.”

  “Now, now… I don’t dip twice with civilian bitches, they don’t understand the concept.”

  His jaw tightens slightly, then he shakes his head. “You’re a fucker, you know that?”

  Yeah, guilty, I fucked his stepsister. In my defense, the bitch was crawling all over me in her little cheerleader outfit. It was a few years ago now, but Ripper hasn’t really lived it down. He claims he hates her, but that hate is sure overprotective. Last I heard, she was at some Ivy League college. Ripper’s mom is trailer trash who married some rich fucker from New York City. Ripper was still his mommy’s little psychopath, though. I laugh to myself and Ripper kicks my shin from under the table.

  “What’s so funny, fuck-face?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I tease. “Just remembering how Ava felt wrapped around my cock.”

  “Enough!” Beast laughs from his seat. “Pack of bitches.” He shakes his head. “So it’s final. Call Zane and get some info on the whereabouts.”

  “Hannibal? Get Lake to hack the system, she might be better,” Toke adds with a joint between his lips. Lake is Hannibal’s sister’s best friend, but she grew up with Hannibal’s family after hers was murdered. He’s known her since she was twelve.

  Hannibal shakes his head. “Nah, man, she’s too straight. Uptight bitch,” he answers, running his hand down his beard.

  Beast repeats, “Call Zane. We do this.” He slams the gavel down and everyone starts exiting. Beast’s hand flies up to my arm and I look down at it with a smile. “What?”

  He waits until everyone has left. “What’s going on with you and Melissa?”

  “Same shit. We’re just fucking around.”

  “Is that fucking around going to get someone killed? We’re hosting tomorrow night, some of the boys riding in from the New Orleans chapter. Been a long fucking trip for them, been on the road for a week. If you haven’t staked claim on Melissa, she’s fair game.”

  “I ain’t looking for an old lady, Beast. I’ll just keep her home.”

  “You think you can slap a leash on a girl like that? Not gonna happen,” Beast scoffs.

  “Oh, it will. Why don’t you get Meadow to use that night as a wedding planner night, keep them all away?” I smirk at my evil plan.

  Beast shakes his head. “We need them in the kitchen. I’ll talk with Meadow, see if she can take them back to our place to start the wedding plans after they’re done here. Millie won’t want to stick around afterhours anyway.”

  “Yeah, good plan,” I agree.

  Beast walks out and I pause, thinking over what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into. Beast is right; eventually someone is going to try something, and admittedly, I’ll have no problem spattering his blood all over these clubhouse walls. Old lady, though? Can’t be sure of that. Never thought I’d see the day where I was considering patching someone as my old lady, but when I think of Melissa, a small part inside me could want it. Could. Don’t know if it does or if that’s just my cock doing the thinking for me.

  Melissa

  Metallica’s “Fade to Black” was playing in the background as I point to the cupboard. “Get me the flour and the cocoa. We’ll start the cake first,” I say to Garret as he rushes around the kitchen excitedly. Jada was called into work today—something about someone desperately needing her to tattoo. She owns Blue Dagger Ink in the heart of Las Vegas and is apparently really good at what she does. She’s covered in ink, but I’m not sure whether that’s her work. Although, if she’s done Hella’s work, I’m gathering she’s more than amazing as his art is spectacular. Maybe I should get her to do something on me. I know she has a little studio set up here because I’ve heard the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun sometimes. She must do the guys here when they’re in need of some ink. I get it. I only have the two doves on each hip bone— I got them when I left college, to signify my freedom once I decided the rape wasn’t going to keep my caged in fear—so I’ll have to talk with her about it.

  “This one?” Garret asks, lifting the bag of flour. “I know there are two types.”

  I laugh, nodding my head. “Yeah, that one.” I take the flour from him and start measuring up all the ingredients, placing them in little glass bowls so all he has to do is pour them into the big mixing bowl. Once I’ve done all the wet ingredients, everything is lined up on the kitchen table. I point to them, talking him through the process. It takes a while for us to get the cake baked. When we’re done, the kitchen is covered in flour and egg shells, but we had fun.

  I take out two cans of coke from the fridge and throw one to him while we wait for the cake to cook. “You did good, kid,” I ruffle his hair before dropping down onto the sofa.

  He drops down beside me and sips on his drink. “Uncle Brax likes you.”

  I laugh, turn
ing my head towards him. My hair is covered in flour and batter, but I don’t care. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because he asked about you last time you were here,” he answers with a smile. “He doesn’t ask about anyone. Him and Uncle B didn’t care about girls before Meadow came. But Uncle Brax was a playboy; he was always with different girls.”

  He babbles off and my smile falters slightly. The thought of Hella being with someone else doesn’t just infuriate me; it hurts me. I don’t think I’m ready for that feeling. I’ve never had a boyfriend and I don’t suppose he’s ever had a girlfriend, so what does that make us?

  Fucked. That’s what that makes us.

  “Well,” I start, swallowing down more of my drink. It’s almost one p.m., my alcohol induced buzz has well and truly gone, and I think I’ve skipped the hangover stage. “The feeling might be mutual.” I wink to him and push off the sofa to check on the cake.

  “Really? I mean…” He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he runs them over my body.

  My hands come up to my hips. “Are you casing me out?”

  He smiles. “Nah. It’s just… if there was anyone that I’d want Uncle Brax with, it’d be you.”

  I smile this time, a full-tooth smile. “Thanks, kid. Come help me pull this cake out.”

  After separating the two large rectangular slabs of chocolate cake, we start on the chocolate frosting filling. I begin pouring the powdered sugar, cocoa, butter, and a touch of thickened cream into the bowl before whipping it to a mousse-like texture. Pouring it over one of the slabs, I spread the thick frosting over the cake before placing the other slab on top. Garret starts breaking up the pieces of chocolate, talking about rugby.

  “So you want to play?” I ask him. It’s big in Australia where Garret’s dad is from, as well as New Zealand. I guess there’s a part of Garret that wants to know his real dad, so him wanting to play rugby probably has a lot to do with that. My heart breaks a little.

  “Yeah,” he answers excitedly, breaking up a couple pieces. He pops one into his mouth.

  I laugh. “Hey!”

  He pauses, his eyes widening with a smile on his face. I pop one into my mouth and we both burst out laughing.

  “Hey,” Hella walks into the kitchen, watching both Garret and I closely.

  Garret looks between us and smiles.

  “Hey!” I answer, throwing the broken pieces of chocolate into the glass bowl, ready to melt them over the pot of boiling water.

  “What’re you two doing?” he asks suspiciously, walking over to Garret and ruffling up his mop of hair.

  “We’re baking a TimTam cake,” Garret says proudly, “and I’m telling Melissa how I want to play rugby.”

  I chuckle, pulling the now-melted chocolate off the stovetop. “I would advise you to use the All Blacks as your mentors. They’re two-time world champs and own the sport. They’re from New Zealand, though. Australia’s team isn’t too bad. They’re called the Wallabies,” I add, pouring the chocolate over the massive slab of cake. “But they almost always lose to the All Blacks. Actually, if my data is correct, it’s an overall score of 42 to 106 wins to the All Blacks. Impressive, huh?”

  Hella’s eyebrows draw together and Garret nods his head. “That’s fucking awesome!”

  “Hey!” Hella growls. “Watch your fucking mouth.” Then he looks toward me. “How do you know so much about rugby?”

  I smirk, spreading the ganache over the cake. “Well, four reasons,” I add innocently. “They are: Dan Carter, Liam Messam, Sonny Bill Williams, and Richie McCaw.”

  He rolls his eyes. “And women call men pervs. That level of perv has some commitment.”

  I laugh, placing the bowl into the sink and turning the hot water on. “I’m joking. My dad would watch the matches when I was a kid before he had a drinking problem.”

  Hella stills slightly. “I need to talk to you about something. We’re having some brothers over tomorrow night from a different chapter. You and the girls will come over to the clubhouse to help out in the kitchen, but after that, you’re going to Meadow’s house.”

  “Okaayy,” I say slowly. “Why aren’t we staying?”

  “Because you’re talking weddings or some shit.”

  Once I finish the cake, Garret rubs his hands together. “Can we cut it now?”

  “Sure!” I say to him, taking a knife out of the kitchen drawer. I cut him a piece and slide his plate over to him.

  “Want a piece of our hard work?” I ask Hella with a smile.

  “He doesn’t eat food that doesn’t help build his body,” Garret adds around a mouthful of cake.

  I look to Hella and run my eyes up and down him. “You don’t say.”

  “Give me the damn cake.” Hella raises his hand up.

  I laugh, cutting him a piece and sliding toward him. I lean against the kitchen table.

  Hella points. “Are you not going to eat any?”

  “No,” I answer casually. “It’ll make me fat.”

  He pauses, fork in midair, then smiles before dropping the rest in his mouth. The front door opens again and Jada yells out, “Sorry, I’m late!” before walking into the kitchen with bags full of groceries. “Oh, yum! Cake! How was the kid?” she asks, walking towards Garret and kissing him on the head.

  “Which one? Hella or Garret?” I tease, and Hella’s eyes narrow at me. I chuckle before looking back at Jada. “He was great. I don’t mind watching him whenever you need.”

  She places the bags on the bench. “It shouldn’t happen again. A client was throwing around cash asking for me and me only, so Sophie had to call me in.”

  Hella nudges his head. “I need you to start on my leg.”

  Jada nods, taking out an apple from one of the bags. “When you’re ready.”

  She looks at me. “You have any ink? Aside from the doves on your hips?”

  I shake my head. “None.”

  Hella reaches out towards me, hooking his finger in mine and pulling me down on his knee. I look at Garret to find a cheesy grin on his face before looking back at Jada, who doesn’t bat an eye. One of Hella’s hands grasps around my upper thigh while the other one continues with his cake. If I’m being honest, being with him feels natural, which scares me a little; it’s too easy to sink into him, to let him possess me.

  I answer Jada’s question. “No, none at all. But I do want one. I was going to talk to you about it, actually.”

  She nods, taking another bite. “What were you thinking?”

  “One that goes up the side of my thigh?”

  She eyes me. “That’d be hot. Do you know what you want?”

  I tilt my head. “Not really.”

  She brushes my comment away. “We can work all that out.”

  Hella’s hand comes to my tummy, sprawling out his fingers and pressing on it softly.

  “We have to prepare all this shit for tomorrow,” Jada adds. “Then apparently we’re going to Meadow’s to plan a wedding.”

  I chuckle. “Sounds good.”

  Millie comes down the stairs. “It’s ready?” she asks, walking towards the cake. She cuts a piece and takes a seat at the table, smiling at Hella casually.

  I look around the room. “Is no one even slightly surprised where I’m sitting?”

  They all answer, “No,” while keeping their eyes on whatever they’re doing.

  I scoff, shaking my head. Hella taps my leg. “Come on, I wanna run something past you.”

  I stand. “Run what?”

  He takes my hand. “The fact that I’m not dealing well with having to keep my hands PG because of who’s around.”

  Hella directs me up the stairs and into my bedroom. He takes a seat on my bed and runs his hands over his face. “Fuck, I’m really not good at this.”

  “Not good at what?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

  “This,” he answers, gesturing between us.

  I stand a few feet away from him and cross my arms. “That makes two of us.”

 
; It’s true; we’ve woven each other into a messy web all based on the fact that we make each other horny.

  His eyes look up to mine and a wave of foreign sensations swim over me.

  “So what do you want to do?” I ask, searching his eyes.

  His hand reaches up as his fingers intertwine with mine, igniting a spark of electricity between us. “Honestly?” he says, his eyes still locked on mine and his thumb caressing my palm. “Anything you want.” He yanks on my hand, my body falling over his lap. His arm curls under my leg to cradle me and I wrap one of my arms around his neck. “What do you want, Melissa?”

  I swallow, my mouth now parched. “Can we just… go with it?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, babe. I can do ‘go with it’ with about anyone else, except you.”

  My eyebrows draw together. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I whisper.

  “It means that I have no fucking idea what I’m doing or how to do it, but I’m willing to give it a shot with you and only you.”

  “Are you asking me to be your old lady? Because—“

  “No,” he cuts in quickly. “No, not that. Not yet, anyway. But I want you to be mine and only mine, and no one else’s.”

  “So… you wanna date?” I ask with a small smile in my tone.

  He pauses. “Ah… I don’t think that’s it, either…”

  “So what is it?”

  He readjusts me on his lap, his hard cock pressing against my hip. I smile quietly.

  “You’re mine, and that’s it. I think you get the picture.”