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Ana W. Fawkes is the author of several bestselling series including:
The billionaire erotic romance serial - BY HIS COMMAND
The paranormal romance series featuring bikers who are werewolves - FULL MOON MERCY
The edgy and gritty erotic romance series - WITH THE ROCKSTAR
The intense and wild MC romance - DEVIL CALL MC
The seductive paranormal shifter series – RAW RIVER WILD
Don’t miss out on *new releases* *excerpts* *cover reveals* and some great *contests* … sign up for the *official* Ana W. Fawkes newsletter RIGHT NOW: http://eepurl.com/ADM0j
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BEFORE THE PATCH – book one (A Devil Call MC Book)
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Before INSIDE BROKEN… before Everly… before prison…
there was…
BEFORE THE PATCH
With his life on the line and the wind in his face, Talon rides how he takes care of women - hard and fast. The life has treated him well... that is, until he's almost killed during a botched mission set forth by Devil Call MC's President, Nash.
Layne spends his days trying to keep Talon under control and spends his nights sharing his bed with a beautiful woman named Rissa. Layne is just trying to protect her. Just as he's trying to protect Talon from himself.
The more Talon sees of Nash, the more he sees the bad road the MC is heading down. He wonders if maybe it's time for a change... but will he have a chance to call the meeting before he finds himself under another attack.
1.
(Talon)
I tucked another gun into the back of my pants and crouched down at the base of the steps, looking up, wondering if my number was going to get called tonight. Not that I was afraid of a bullet or dying, it was just a sense of something like excitement, knowing you were about to face death. But the honor behind the death, that’s where it all waited for guys like me. I had nothing but my gun, my leather cut, my ride, and my cock. All of them big and powerful.
“Ready for this?” Layne asked as he crept up next to me.
I glanced at him, his beard big like he had just come off a ten year stint of living in the mountains. His eyes were weary from drinking too much last night. I couldn’t lie to myself and say I wasn’t as hungover, but I was ready to kill. Or be killed.
I think Layne feared it though.
He loved the life and he wasn’t afraid to pull his trigger, but he feared taking one. Maybe because he’d never been shot yet. I had. A few times. It fucking hurts like a bitch, but you get over it. Plus, you get a gallon of whiskey and plenty of women to ease the pain.
Hell, we had a guy in the MC who used to shoot himself in the foot every time he was ready to fuck so he could get it on the cheap. Fucking punk… he finally took one to the back of the skull, not his own doing.
I touched the first step and looked around. We had to keep a low profile for plenty of reasons. First off, we didn’t need the fucking police riding up on us right now. Not that they would do much, we had them on the take, but they would fuck this entire thing up badly. And if the guy we were here to take out - some guy named Crash - got wind of us, he’d open up a shooting match or just take the fuck off.
I wasn’t in the mood to chase anyone down right now. I just wanted to fight, kill, then fuck. Nothing was better than the high of defending yourself and then finding someone to fuck. That was the kind of high I lived on and demanded. Anyone else around Brocke who shoved powder up their noses or needles in their arms, that was a quick way to the grave.
“We’re clear,” I said to Layne. “We each take a side of the door and then kick the fucking thing in.”
“Just start shooting?”
“I’d love to. But Nash said Jasmine might be in trouble.”
“His old lady is always in trouble,” Layne said.
“Yeah. She loves cock. And not Nash’s.”
Nash was the President of Devil Call MC. His old lady, Jasmine, was tall, thin, big fake tits, dark skin, darker eyes, jet black hair, a body to die for, and a pussy always wet and eager. Nash used his power to impress her and she used her body to get everything she could ask for in life. Which meant trouble. All the fucking time. Nash lived his life in a constant fight because of, and for, Jasmine.
If that were me, I’d put a gun to the bitch’s head and tell her to make a decision.
But Nash didn’t have a heart, balls, or a brain.
I crept up the steps to a sleazy motel in Brocke, where everyone came to fuck and deal drugs, and counted four doors down and stopped. This place had no name and kept the sole purpose of having the junk here. That meant prostitutes, druggies, dealers, bums, hippies, where businessmen brought their mistresses or came to live out fucked up fantasies. It was an array of nasty shit.
In the back of my mind I was a little excited. Hoping to find this Crash guy setting up a big drug deal. So I could put a bullet in each of his legs and call Nash to come in and meet him. Then we could not only stop the drug deal from happening within Brocke, but we could find out who was supplying this Crash guy and then go after him. That’s how you did it. You attacked and attacked… and then fucking attacked. The second you gave up or even pulled back, the shit would flood right back into Brocke.
While I respected Nash and his ability to keep the shit in this motel, the shit shouldn’t have been in Brocke at all. The people deserved more and better. The authorities were under our control, which meant we ran the town.
“Talon,” Layne said. “Listen.”
Layne was on one side of the door, I on the other.
I listened intently and heard the murmurs of someone struggling to breath. Painful whimpers. Then came grunts… followed by whimpers.
I looked at Layne.
“Hurting her,” Layne said. “Fuck.”
If Jasmine was killed on our watch, we were fucked. We wouldn’t get our patches stripped because Layne and I were the heart and soul of Devil Call MC. But we’d never live this down. And Nash would go fucking crazy.
Part of me wished Nash would go fucking crazy. Then I could finally have the club. The patch. The power and direction Devil Call MC needed.
“We have to move,” Layne said. “Talon…”
“Let’s go,” I said.
I stepped to the door and reached for my gun.
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and saw two men at the top of the steps, wearing nothing but black, carrying coffee, freezing and reaching for guns when they saw me and Layne.
“Layne,” I growled.
Layne turned and I already had my gun ready to go. I pulled the trigger and shot one of the guys, sending him flying back and down the steps. The other guy shot, but his eyes were focused on the first guy I had shot.
Layne dropped down to avoid the bullet, but I stood there and kept shooting. I hit the guy in the leg, then the gut, dropping him.
Now I had to focus on the motel room.
“Fuck,” I growled and grabbed Layne by the back of his cut and pulled. “Are you hit?”
“No,” Layne said. “Come on.”
Layne lifted his big foot and kicked the door. It damn near exploded from Layne’s intense strength. The door swung in and we ran into the room, guns drawn, ready for whatever waited.
What I didn’t expect to find was Jasmine on the bed, ass high in the air, legs, spread enough Layne and I could both see her glistening pussy. It was pretty obvious the sounds we had heard were of her getting fucked. She was throbbing, dripping, her hands tied behind her back, wearing black heels that matched her hair.
“What the fuck?!” she cried out, her face on a pillow
.
“Christ,” Layne said.
“Jasmine, put your ass down,” I said.
“Come on, Talon,” Jasmine purred. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. I’m ready for you.”
She started to shake her ass, squeezing herself, releasing, biting her bottom lip, working that dark vixen style she had to perfect.
Fuck if I was distracted for a split second.
Bad on me…
Because that’s when I heard the pump of a shotgun.
“Put the guns down!” a voice bellowed.
It was goddamn Crash, standing there butt naked, covered in tattoos, his cock dangling half hard, his eyes red, wide, bloodshot, and obviously pissed off.
I couldn’t blame him for being mad. We had definitely burst in at the wrong moment.
He had the barrel of the shotgun to Layne’s neck. One pull of the trigger and Layne’s head would be hanging by a few random pieces of skin and muscle. And I’d be covered in blood.
“Well played,” I said. I unloaded the clip from my gun and dropped it to the floor. Layne did the same. “You know why we’re here.”
“No I fucking don’t,” Crash said.
“He was just about to fuck my ass,” Jasmine said. “Please, Crash, baby, come back here. Do it. Hard. Make me cry.”
“Holy fuck,” Layne said.
“What’s wrong?” Crash asked. “Not man enough for her?”
“Whoa,” I said. “Where’s the drugs?”
Crash looked at me. “Drugs? What drugs?”
His voice suddenly seemed to echo… what drugs?
There never was any drugs here. This was only about Crash fucking Jasmine. Nash had gotten wind of it and instead of taking care of this himself, or sending some fucking prospects to do it, he sent me and Layne. Another waste of our time when we could have been doing something that mattered for the MC.
“Fucking hell,” I growled. “Jasmine put your fucking ass down.”
“No,” Crash said. “Leave it up, baby. Leave that pussy right there for me. You don’t mind a little blood, do you?”
“No,” Jasmine purred. “Make me bleed, Crash. Fuck me until I bleed.”
“I’ll do that,” Crash said. “Just let me finish off these fucking punks.”
I had to make a move and make it count. My senses were in overdrive. There were two dead bodies outside. Layne - my fucking best friend - had a shotgun to his neck. (I knew he was ready to shit himself, but he played it off cool and tough. That was always Layne’s style.) And if that wasn’t enough, Nash’s old lady was on the bed, pussy showing to us all, gently rocking her hips, waiting for someone to take care of her.
“Ready to die?” Crash asked Layne.
That’s when I knew Crash would never do it. Real men didn’t ask bitch questions like that. They just pulled the trigger.
It left me with one choice.
I turned, put my shoulder into Layne, and charged. Layne bumped into Crash. Layne then grabbed the shotgun and pointed it up, and stayed with me as I drove both of them into a wall. We all hit with a thud. Layne yelled and pushed back at me, not wanting to be on top of a naked dude.
Crash stood there, hesitating long enough for me to grab the shotgun and keep it pointed up. Crash pulled the trigger and a hole was blasted in the ceiling. Plaster rained down on us as Jasmine let out a scream.
I threw a punch and smacked Crash in the nose. It exploded with blood and he let the shotgun go. I grabbed it and tucked it under his chin. He shook his head.
“No… no… I fucked her… that was it… I would never…”
I gritted my teeth.
I had my orders in hand. Whether I liked it or not, Nash was the fucking President of Devil Call MC. That meant I had to listen. For now.
I turned my head and pulled the trigger.
I dropped the gun and refused to look at the spray of blood, skull, and brain on the wall and ceiling.
I made fists and walked to Jasmine.
“Yeah, Talon, please,” she said. “I’m still…”
I grabbed her by the ass, my fingers digging into her skin. Fuck, if I just pulled her back a little… I could unzip my jeans and take my cock out…
“No,” I growled.
I pushed and knocked her down on the bed.
I turned and looked at Layne. “You okay, bro?”
“Yeah. I think his cock touched me. Fuck.”
“Better than taking a shotgun to the neck, right?”
“Fair enough.”
“Take her back to the clubhouse. Throw her at fucking Nash.”
I started to move toward the door.
“Talon?” Layne called out. “What are you doing?”
I looked back. “I’m going to get a drink and find someone to fuck. I don’t want to go near the clubhouse right now.”
I left the motel room and stepped over the dead bodies - one hanging over the railing, the other halfway down the steps, contorted - and walked to my ride. I fired up my motorcycle and was gone. To do just as I said… to drink and to fuck.
2.
(Layne)
“Do you have clothes?” I asked Jasmine after I took the rope off her wrists.
She turned to her side, revealing her big and fake breasts to me. She had both nipples pierced with loops, something Nash said he’d stick his fingers into and pull until she cried. That crazy shit I didn’t get. Fuck, I didn’t get anything right then. I just had a shotgun to my neck and then had to tackle a naked dude into a wall.
“Come on, Layne,” Jasmine whispered. “It’s just us. Nobody would ever know. I can’t help but wonder what your dick looks like. Big and furry, I bet. Like your body.”
I curled my lip. “Get dressed. We have to go. I’m sure the police will be here soon.”
“I didn’t come yet,” Jasmine said. She ran a hand down to her breast and squeezed. Her hand then started to keep going, down her curvy body.
I hurried and grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her body. Her nails were long - fake - and painted a dark red. She made a grab for my jeans and I jumped back.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You into guys? That’s okay if you are. You can fuck my ass. I can still come…”
“Get dressed,” I said, trying to keep cool.
I was getting a little pissed that Talon had taken off. But I got it. I knew what he was thinking. Fuck, I was thinking the same thing. Nash sending us out on something like this was bullshit. Not what we were meant to be for the club.
Right now, I had to focus on getting Jasmine dressed and back to Nash.
“Fine,” she said and sat up on the bed. She kept her legs open and put her palms to the bed. “Just let me see it. Touch it. Lick it.”
“Not a chance,” I said.
“Don’t you like what you see?”
“Of course I do,” I said. “You’re pretty, Jasmine. But you’re Nash’s old lady.”
“It’s our secret.”
“We have no secrets.”
Jasmine sat there for another few seconds, an eyebrow raised.
Nash had found her and saved her from a life of stripping, which wasn’t much saving at all. She had a wild body for stripping and probably made a killing at it. Plus, she probably made a ton more by fucking the richest clientele that came in. But she liked the protection from Nash and Devil Call MC. Even if she couldn’t keep her legs shut.
“Hand me my thong, Layne,” she said with a grin.
I hooked my finger around the neon green piece of string and threw it at her. She caught it, stood, turned around, and then stepped into it. I don’t how the fuck she wore something like that, considering it covered next to nothing. She then walked toward me and I hurried out of the way. She gathered the rest of her clothing and dressed slowly, seductively, maybe hoping I’d break down and just throw her to the bed and have my way with her. Yeah, the thought was temping, but it wasn’t going to happen. I had too much respect for myself, for Jasmine, and maybe even Nash. I di
dn’t know what to make of him anymore. He was the guy who brought Talon and I into the club. He did it because we were tough and had no fear.
But this… tracking down his old lady…
When Jasmine was dressed, I grabbed her by the arm.
She let out a purring sound. “I like it rough.”
I ignored her and we finally left the fucking motel. The scene was bloody and it would be a hell of a mess to clean up and cover up, but it wasn’t my problem.
Jasmine climbed onto the back of my ride and slid her hands around my waist. That’s when I realized it was going to be an interesting ride to the clubhouse. Her fingers played with my leather cut, my shirt, and teased down to my dick. At one point, she cupped my dick and squeezed as I was trying to focus on the road.
I managed to get back to the clubhouse without getting too hard.
I pulled into the lot, rode right up to the door, and stopped. I got off the motorcycle and grabbed Jasmine by the elbow and pulled her.
“We still have time,” she teased.
“No, we don’t,” I said.
I took her into the clubhouse and Nash stood at the bar, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was thick, not so much with muscle, but fat. Six inches shorter than me, a full black beard, and eyes that were damn near black and full of evil.
“Here you go,” I said and offered Jasmine back to Nash.
“Fuck, baby, where were you?” Nash asked.
He knew the answer. He knew everything.
Jasmine strutted slowly to him and touched his beard. “I love this, Nash. Go down on me, right now. Show everyone how good you are.”
I cringed. Nobody needed to see Nash and Jasmine together like that.
“Let’s go for a talk,” Nash said with his lip curled.
He grabbed Jasmine by the hair and took her for a ride. I stepped forward, not really liking the situation, but I held back against my own will. The rest of the clubhouse was alive and bustling. And by that, I meant not just drinking, but the pool tables were being used as places to enjoy the company of women. There were two women on the pool table, knees bent, legs spread. Maxen was down on one of them with Buzzy standing at the other, watching as she touched herself.
BEFORE THE PATCH – book one (A Devil Call MC Book) Page 1
