Devil's Ruin

by Bijou Hunter

  ★ Devil’s Ruin ☆

  Bijou Hunter

  Copyright © 2017 Bijou Hunter

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  For more information about this series and author visit:

  http://www.bijouhunterbooks.com

  Cover

  Photographer: jonah-jk

  Source: Depositphotos.com

  Cover Copyright © 2017 Bijou Hunter

  Dedication

  To my super sons—Jack, Max, and Luca

  My tough as nails mom

  My forever patient betas—Sarah & Debbie

  Judy’s Proofreading

  Book Summary

  Broken women are my crack and kryptonite. I've lost too much over the years chasing them to do it again.

  Until Yarrow Jones.

  She was raised in the darkness before finding the light. A contradiction of innocence and wisdom, Yarrow knows just how to push my buttons.

  With my tattoos and temper, I'm no hero. With her stubborn streak and tough chick crew, Yarrow is no damsel in distress. What we are is a match made in messed up heaven.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Two

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Three

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Four

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Five

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Six

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Seven

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Eight

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Nine

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Ten

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow☆

  Chapter Eleven

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Twelve

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Thirteen

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Chapter Fourteen

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Fifteen

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Sixteen

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Chapter Seventeen

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Epilogues

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  About Bijou

  Chapter One

  Life Lesson #1: people aren’t food

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  The darkness was my home for so long that I couldn’t remember living any other way. I understood that life, though it made no sense to people like the Everything Nice Crew. Those powerful women killed the man who gave me life and kept me in the darkness. They then yanked me from my safe room and into a blindingly bright and painfully loud world. Ginger and the others chose to save me by forcing me to behave like everyone else. So far, their gamble worked out, but the darkness still tempts me.

  My hold on this new life remains tenuous, but Ginger yanked me into the light once already, and she’ll find me again. Most days, I trust her more than I do myself.

  The crew taught me a lot about the world outside of my dark room. Mostly, they taught me rules. So many damn rules! Also, I learned about schedules. People can’t follow their body’s signals. No, they need to know when to eat and sleep. They require alarms to get up, menus to decide what food to order, and bedtimes to know when to close their eyes at night.

  Ginger insisted I wear clothes and eat with a fork and spoon. She wanted me to talk like everyone else and use my words rather than hitting people when I was angry. I watched them give the same rules for Cayenne’s daughter. Children are trained to behave like adults. Ginger once said my body belonged to a woman while I had a kid’s brain. I don’t know if that’s true, but Ginger is normally right about things. That’s why she’s the leader of our crew. People follow her, so do I, even if sometimes her rules provide little payoff for all the effort I put in.

  Ginger is no longer the woman who opened the door to my room and dragged me out. Succumbing to love, she’s a wife and mother now. She once killed men without mercy. Now she does a man’s laundry. I don’t know how to feel about this change, but I shouldn’t be surprised love, romance, and children entranced even the most powerful woman.

  Bay and Pepper were the first to give in to the impulse to put someone before themselves. They went from friends to lovers to wives, and now they want to be moms. Romance sounds tedious, but I don’t mind the baby part.

  I love babies. They’re defenseless, and no one understands them. I often know how that feels.

  Ginger’s children belong to her husband, Oz, and they aren’t small. Alani is nearly twelve while Makoa is nine. They haven’t been babies for a long time, but I don’t mind them. They aren’t mean, though they could be. Their father is a huge, scary man, and they could use his position as a motorcycle club president to bully others. Oz didn’t raise them to think that way, and they have a strong, smart grandma to keep them in line.

  With Ginger, Bay, and Pepper lost in wedded bliss; I’m relieved they still let me remain close to them. They even brought me to Rawlins with them and set up a townhome just for me.

  Except what do I need so much space for?

  Of course, Bay and Pepper share theirs. Ginger has Oz, the kids, and three cats at her place. Cayenne lives with her seven-year-old daughter, Duffy. Only Clove wants a two-bedroom townhome to herself. She doesn’t mind the quiet or dark corners.

  I’m not the exotic Clove, so I only use my place to shower and change clothes. More importantly, I only do so during the brightest time of day when there are fewer dark corners.

  At night, I take turns sleeping in one of the other townhomes. Ginger’s couch is the best. Best of all, Nacho—one of Oz’s cats—sleeps on my back, calming me with his heat. When Makoa and Alani get scared at night in their new home, I sleep in the hallway upstairs so they know I’ll protect them. On those nights in a sleeping bag, I’m joined by all three cats. Plugged in the hallway is a white noise machine to soften my movements and block the sounds of Ginger and Oz humping.

  Life in Rawlins feels like a step up from our last home in the larger, more violent Little Memphis. Our townhome complex is surrounded by a security fence and thick brush and protected by security alarms and cameras. Ginger says we’re safe here. The mayor is on our payroll, and the police are learning their place. We’ll open legit businesses, and let the Rawlins Heretics Motorcycle Club handle the illegal stuff.

  Everything seems easy for the rest of the crew while I struggle to find my footing after only a few years out of the darkness.

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  I wasn’t born to be a criminal. My family
is solidly middle class, duller than vanilla, and unmistakably Dudley Do-Rights. The Chesters go to college and find jobs in safe occupations like financial services and teaching. The wildest relative in my bloodline was my aunt Becky who ended up with a baby and reportedly—shared only in whispers of course—a sexually transmitted disease from a fellow she met on her spring break trip to Florida. Saddled with a bastard and possibly a disease, she only managed to marry a carpenter. Then again, carpentry was good enough for Jesus, so it was plenty good enough for the husband of a slut like Becky.

  Somehow, such a mundane family spawned me.

  I’d been like the Chesters until middle school when one choice—a single decision devoid of logic and driven by rage—changed my trajectory. I was forever excluded from the humdrum life meant for me.

  My life now revolves around a motorcycle club sporting only six members and a president unprepared to call the shots.

  Oz Savo must have been born under a lucky fucking star. First, he ended up president without having any experience doing more than following orders. Then he cons a biker big shot in Little Memphis to back our decimated club. Finally, he romances the top bitch in the Everything Nice Crew so that now Ginger Jones whispers battle plans in his ears when they’re not enjoying fuck-a-thons. Yeah, Oz has the magic touch.

  Too bad none of his good luck rubbed off on me. These days, he and his kids are shacked up with the Queen Bitch in a renovated townhome. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in his old lumpy bed at his former rental house. His mom, Tana, still lives there, but she is rarely around. My evenings are spent wrangling with a thousand outdoor cats who keep trying to get inside. I’m fairly certain they’ll kill me one night while I sleep.

  Crashing at his place is temporary, but I have no idea where I’ll end up next. My last rental house was infested with raccoons when an old girlfriend decided I should sleep with my fellow vermin. Once I got rid of them—and the fleas they left behind—the bitch left burning bags of shit on my porch. When this didn’t send me running in horror, Jessica—no, wait, her name is Annie—decided to leave the crap bags inside my house.

  Unable to figure out how the psycho sneaks into my place, I end up sleeping at Oz’s. For now, I’m safe, but Annie will find me eventually. When she does, I can only hope the cats swarm her and end my misery.

  Women are my destruction, and I won’t be surprised if Annie puts a bullet in me. Or possibly an Everything Nice Crew fox will finish me off. They’re trigger-happy man-haters, and I refuse to bow to them. Sooner or later, one of those bitches will end me—assuming Annie doesn’t beat them to it.

  Chapter Two

  Life Lesson #2: sharing isn’t another word for stealing

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  The eight-foot security fence and evergreen trees keep us safe and provide privacy. I like that part. The problem is they also block my view of the world outside our complex. Sometimes, I get worried about what is outside the fence. All those years in the dark room, I thought nothing beyond my walls existed. Sometimes, I find myself peeking through the trees to prove the world is bigger than what I can see.

  I’m not obsessive about checking. I leave the property enough to know the world is still out there. On some days, though, when we remain homebound, I need to know things are how I remember them.

  Today is one of those days. Ginger and Oz invited the Heretics over for a backyard barbecue. The kids are out of school for fall break. Everyone is working from home or lounging. Every time I checked on a pregnant Bay, she’s sleeping. Pepper won’t stop shopping for baby things online. Clove has a sinus headache and decides to veg on her couch and binge watch House Hunters. Outside, Duffy walks circles around the pool while Makoa and Alani swim inside it. Cayenne vegges in the hot tub.

  With everyone inside the property, I begin to worry the world outside the property has fallen away leaving only a dark nothingness behind.

  Distrusting the security cameras, I walk to the front gate and peek through the brush to check on the road. I find quiet homes, a few cars on the road a block away, and a woman staring back at me.

  “Hello,” she says when our eyes meet.

  “What do you want?”

  “Do you live here?” she asks, backing away and disappearing from view.

  I walk to the front security door, caress the hilt of my gun for reassurance, and then step out to the sidewalk where the woman waits.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  Dressed in a red baby doll dress and black tights, the young woman has white-blonde hair and black-lined eyes.

  “Is Blackjack here?” she asks rather than answering my question.

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s one of the Heretics working on your property.”

  “I think they’re done, and I don’t know what any of their names are.”

  “He’s got a beard.”

  “So?”

  “I saw him go inside, and I really need to talk to him.”

  Her blood-red nails dig into the already irritated skin on her arm. I watch her blue eyes survey the eight-foot fence.

  “Talk to him about what?” I finally ask.

  “He hurt me, and I want to know why.”

  “Hurt you how?”

  “I can’t say. It’s private, but you understand. You’re a woman, so you know how it feels for a man to tear you apart and toss you away like trash. Can’t you help me?”

  I’ve never been able to tell when someone’s lying. The slight nuances of the face and body gestures are lost on me. With the woman scratching and looking around, I can’t get a handle on her. She seems upset, and what she’s telling me makes sense. Logic says I am on her side, but my gut says I’m on my side, and I don’t like people on the property.

  “I can see if he’s inside.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “I’m Annie. I told you that.”

  Frowning, I don’t remember her telling me her name before. “Stay here or leave. Either way, you can’t follow me while I ask if someone named Blackjack is here.”

  “I know he is. I saw him go inside.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to him when you saw him arrive?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “He went inside too fast.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I caress my gun again. “Why do you want to talk to him if he hurt you?”

  “I need to know why he hurt me.”

  “Why ask him now?”

  Annie swings her arms around and then drops them to her side. “Can you let me inside, please?”

  “No. I’ll go get him.”

  I don’t turn my back on Annie because men might be naturally evil but women are no prizes either. Cayenne likes to say, “Trust is earned,” and I agree.

  Backing into the property, I close and lock the gate. I give Annie one final wary glance before hurrying around the side of Ginger’s townhome to where the barbecue grills are set up. I hear Oz’s voice first followed by one of his Heretics. They all stop when I appear.

  “Need something?” Oz asks.

  “Which one of you is Blackjack?”

  The bikers turn their heads to look at a massive, angry man with the beard. He glares at me with nearly black eyes, and I can imagine him hurting Annie. My gaze flashes to his large hands, picturing them wrapped around a woman’s vulnerable throat. I look back to his agitated expression and hold his hard stare.

  “There’s a woman looking for you.”

  “What woman?”

  “Someone you hurt.”

  Oz steps closer to me and then thinks better of it. Blackjack, though, approaches me without hesitation. I lift my chin so I can regain eye contact now that the biker is standing so close.

  “For fuck’s sake, what woman?” he growls

  “Annie said you hurt her. Shouldn’t that information have narrowed down the list o
f women?” I ask and finally turn around to walk away. “Or do you have too many victims to remember?”

  I assume Blackjack won’t follow me as I return to the front of the property. Behind me, I hear Oz speak to the other guys and hope he teaches Blackjack some manners. As for the woman at the gate, my plan is to tell Annie to forget about the awful biker who hurt her and move on with her life.

  “I didn’t do shit to her,” Blackjack says only a foot behind me.

  Flinching at how close he seems, I refuse to look back. “Then why does she say you did?”

  Blackjack is suddenly directly behind me—the heat of his body burning into mine—and I freeze.

  “I stuck my dick in her like she wanted,” he growls into my ear.

  Swinging around, I immediately have my bowie knife out. Blackjack jumps out of the way when I swing the blade at him. He’s faster than a man his size should be. Despite his strength and speed, my blade knife will cut through him as easily as any other man.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he says, walking backward with his hands up. “Be cool.”

  Rage and fear feel almost the same to me. Destroying what I hate and fear fixes the problem, and I want to destroy this man. He has no name. No history. No reason for existing. He is the enemy who burns a heat through my cold, unaffected body.

  Blackjack keeps speaking to me, but I don’t reply. There’s nothing to say. I want him dead, and he doesn’t want to die. I can’t imagine we’ll find common ground. One of us will win while the other loses. With nothing left to negotiate, I lunge with my blade and hope I’m the winner.

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Annie’s name instantly turns a decent day into shit. I have a cold beer in one hand, and the beef aroma from the grill makes my stomach growl. Camo gets everyone laughing at his story about sex mishaps. I sit in a lawn chair on an autumn day, feeling as relaxed as a man can. Then Yarrow shows up and says that name.

  I lose my temper immediately. Annie’s obsession drives me fucking insane, but worse is for my club brothers to know how much she screws with me. My ego demands I keep this problem low-key, which isn’t possible when the crazy bitch shows up at my club president’s house.