Slick Running (Satan's Devils #3) (Satan's Devils MC)

by Manda Mellett

  “I’ll come get you something.” He scares me; it’s easier to give in. “Just give me a moment to wash.”

  “I’m fuckin’ hungry now.” Christ! He sounds like a petulant child.

  Shaking my head, fearing what he might do if I delay, I step out of the safety of my room, noticing he doesn’t move out of the way, which means I have to slide my body up against his, his foul body odour sticking to me like glue. Walking across the lounge that’s even more disgusting than normal, I go into the small kitchen. The sink is full of dirty dishes and pans. Someone has had a midnight snack and hasn’t bothered to wash up. It could have been either him or Tilly, they’re both disgusting wasters. Quickly I wash and rinse plates, putting them on the drainer to dry. Next, I bend down and open the fridge.

  For a big man he moves quietly. I don’t know he’s behind me until I feel the swat to my ass. Trying not to flinch, feeling like bugs are moving over my skin, I summon up strength from somewhere and snarl, “Do that again and you can get your own fucking breakfast.”

  “Smart-assed bitch,” he throws back. But his stomach must be ruling his cock, at least for the moment, as thankfully I feel him move away.

  I take out eggs and bacon and get them started, and throw on some waffles to heat. My hand unsteady with the threat of his presence, I’ve certainly got no appetite myself. As fast as I can, I make him a plate, grab a coffee for myself, and take myself back to my room.

  Eyeing my phone, I decide there’s no point calling and getting a third rejection. Slick calling me a bitch twice so far today followed by my altercation with Bart has been more than enough. But Slick and his club should listen to me—for what I did for them, and at the high to myself. A debt to repay that no one knows the true extent of. Except for me, that is.

  Sitting back on the bed I put my head in my hands, remembering back to the night it all started. That evening when Jill had turned up at my door, the tall handsome biker accompanying her.

  After she’d left, Slick had stayed late into the evening, explaining what they’d wanted me to do. A simple job on the face of it, and he’d reeled me in with promises of what was to be my future. Pointed looks around my all too humble and messy abode, countered with descriptions of their compound in the foothills of the Coronado Forest, the clean air they breathe rather than the smog of the city. And he described the men, and the demands they make on the girls. He might not have known, but had he offered to give me a demonstration I’d have agreed to anything he wanted right there on the spot.

  I remember only too well the carrot he dangled in front of me, his deep voice drifting over me as he described a perfect life living with the bikers. They’d meet all my needs. Sure, he admitted, they could be rough, but to my gullible self the thought summoned up only thrills and excitement, and did nothing to turn me off. To be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing? Not to fumble with a partner who hadn’t a clue how to pleasure a woman. They prided themselves on not leaving a woman wanting, he’d said. And I knew then I wanted to experience that. And those heated looks he was giving me? They’d blown me away. I forgot about the other men. All I could think of what Slick doing just what he’d described.

  That evening was the last time I found anything about sex to be exciting, or even arousing. Icy cold water had washed away my naïve dreams when I was introduced to the reality of biker loving in the Rock Demons’ club. An experience from which I haven’t even begun to recover, and suspect that I never will.

  “Hey, bitch!” Bart’s voice comes loud and clear through the thin door.

  When will he realise I’ve got a name? Grabbing a tissue from the side of my bed I mop up my tears I hadn’t realised were falling and blew my nose in a very unladylike fashion. Then I go to see what he wants. Surely he can’t want feeding again? Glancing at my phone I see that might be the case, I’ve wasted hours reliving the past.

  “What, Bart?” I call out, leaning on the wood on this side, unwilling to face him again.

  “You’ve got a fuckin’ visitor. What d’ya think I am, your fuckin’ servant or summin’? Come out and fuckin’ see him.”

  Huh? Him? I’m not expecting anyone. My brow furrows as I think who it could be. I don’t mix with men nowadays—only my boss, and I can’t think of a reason he’d visiting. But I won’t find out hiding in my bedroom. Blissfully unaware and unconcerned what was about to confront me, I step out into the sitting room to be met with the man I’d just wasted most of the day thinking about. Slick.

  Oh. My. God. Why is he here? My first reaction is fear. We hadn’t parted on good terms. Actually, we hadn’t parted on any terms at all, I’d just walked out. Given his response to my phone calls today, he’s the last man I expect to see. Is he angry that I’d contacted him? Had I so enraged him that he’d come to challenge me in person? To tell me never to contact him again? I begin to tremble as I risk a glance at him, only to find he’s not looking at me. No, he’s looking at the man who’s come to stand by my side, and who’s just placed a very possessive arm over my shoulder, making me freeze.

  “Just tell your fuckin’ friend to go.” What? What the hell has it got to do with Bart?

  I try to shrug off Tilly’s boyfriend’s touch, his fingers grip into me causing me to break out in a sweat.

  Now Slick looks at me, one side of his mouth turned up. Then he looks to the man by my side who’s choosing this moment to put his free hand down his pants and scratch at his balls. Slick shakes his head. “You’re with this now? Christ woman.” He looks disgusted.

  Bart might be stupid, but he knows when he’s being insulted. He steps forward, dragging me with him. “Yeah, she’s mine. So fuck off, fella.” Then it’s almost as though a lightbulb turns on. “Unless you want to pay? She’s a good fuck.”

  “What?” Rage gives me the strength to pull out of his grip. “What the fuck are you talking about…” My hand goes to my cheek where he’s just backhanded me.

  As I stand dazed, with a growl Slick comes forward, pushing Bart away and delivering a punch of his own. Bart screams like a woman and his hand covers his mouth. For good measure, Slick’s fist hits Bart in his stomach, then turns him around, holding him by his collar with one arm twisted up his back.

  He snarls into Bart’s ear, “You never hit a woman. Never mind if she’s yours or not.”

  “I’m not his!” I spit out. “He’s with Tilly, my housemate. I don’t want him here at all. And I’ve never fucked him. Never mind what that asshole says.”

  Slick’s eyes open as my words sink in. “You want I take out the trash?”

  Best suggestion I’ve heard all day. I nod slowly. Yes I do, Bart’s been getting far too handsy for me today. “Please Slick. And I don’t want him coming back.” A belated reaction has me visibly shaking. I’d known Bart had been getting worse, but this morning he’s shown signs he might go so far as to rape me.

  The biker pulls Bart’s arm harder up against his back, and I hear a bone snap. The sound makes me wince. “You’re leavin’ now, and you’re never fuckin’ returnin’.”

  Bart’s crying like a baby, but Slick is still not letting him loose. “But my stuff…”

  “Yer girlfriend can bring it to ya. But yer not crossin’ this doorway again. Got it? If yer do I’ll find ya and there won’t be an unbroken bone in your fuckin’ body.”

  “I got it man, I hear ya. Just let me go.” His words are almost indistinguishable through his blubbering.

  “Just to let ya know, Ella here is under the protection of the Satan’s Devils. It won’t only be me. All my brothers will be watchin’ out for ya.” With that, Slick marches him to the door, opens it with the hand not holding Bart’s clearly broken arm, and tosses him out on his ass. Slamming the door behind him he comes back in, brushing his hands briskly, one against the other as if removing all trace of dirt. He moves across to me and turns my head so he can examine my injured cheek. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and seems to choke back what he wants to say.

  In
stead he settles for, “Well I’ve sorted your problem. I know his type. He’s a fuckin’ coward who hits women. But now he knows you’ve got us to knock back. He’ll leave you alone.” He lets his hand drop from my face and then turns his back on me. “Right, now I’ve helped ya, I’ll get gone now. See ya… Well, goodbye Ella.”

  I’m stunned. He’s going to leave? As his hand touches the door handle my legs are prompted into action. Running across the room, I commit the cardinal sin of putting my hand on his cut and trying to hold him back. He turns around, arms swinging, then manages to stop them in mid-air.

  “What the fuck, Ella?”

  “I didn’t call you here for that.” I wave my hand toward the front door. “That was nothing. I could have handled that fucker myself.” I couldn’t really, but that’s beside the point. “I’ve got a real problem I need fucking help with.” Then it dawns on me what he said. “You told me I got Satan’s Devils protection. Well now I want some of that.”

  He’s trembling as though he’s trying to suppress his anger, his fists clenching and unclenching. Clear signs he hasn’t forgiven me yet, and probable indications that he never will.

  Even though I know it would be best if he was completely out of my life, I can’t let him walk away. Not when I need all the help I can get, and I don’t know where to turn except to him and his club.

  His breath leaves him on a long sigh, and with one arm outstretched holding the top of the doorframe, his brow resting on his forearm in a gesture strangely reminiscent of the night we’d first met, he asks in a more reasonable tone, “What the fuck have you got yourself into, Ella?”

  Now I’ve got him here and I’ve got his full attention. Still reeling from Bart’s possessive actions and the violent way Slick dealt with him, my hands are unsteady and it’s difficult to get my thoughts together. That Slick had acted so viciously shouldn’t have surprised me. It’s what I’ve come to expect from bikers. It’s safe to say my blinkers have been well and truly removed. I’d been such a fool to believe the things that Jill had told me, and to think it would be a dream to live with them. They are all brutish thugs. And that includes the one standing in front of me. I need to be very careful how to proceed, and not make him any angrier than he already is.

  “Spit it fuckin’ out, Ella. I ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”

  Knowing he’s getting impatient makes my heart beat faster and my palms sweat. Please don’t get a panic attack now. “Would you like a coffee?” I make the offer hoping I might be able to escape his presence for a moment.

  “No, I don’t want a fuckin’ drink. I want you to fuckin’ talk to me.”

  Chapter 7

  Slick

  What Ella calls home hasn’t changed at all since the first time I saw it. If anything it’s become even more of a pigsty. The air is tainted with sweat and other loathsome odours of the obnoxious male I just had the pleasure of chucking out of here. Fuck Drummer for making me come. At least taking out some of my rage on the man I expelled has taken the edge off my anger.

  When I’d seen him with Ella I was surprised to see how low her tastes had fallen. Bikers aren’t high up on anyone’s scale, but that man was pure scum. Then I was taken aback by the relief that swept through me when I found she wasn’t his, and again by my fury when he dared lay his hands on her. To be honest, he’s lucky he left here walking. For a second or two there I thought I’d be calling the club and requesting help with a clean-up. But something in her frightened eyes had tempered my reaction. It wasn’t that she was scared for him, but on some level for me, and I’d managed just in time to tame my most violent instincts. He’d gotten off lightly. But if he ever came back? All gloves would be off.

  I’d thought it was over, the man who was bothering her gone from her life. Her problem resolved and I was free to get as far away from here as possible. And then I wished he was still in the room so I had a target for my temper when I realised she wasn’t going to let me leave. Let me go, Ella. Just let me fuckin’ go.

  The room’s small, a kitchenette off to one side. Once my eyes have roamed all around they’re drawn back to the woman in front of me. The girl who now I notice seems a shadow of her former self. She’s pale, her cheeks flushed, her breathing is quickening, and she’s trembling. She’s scared. Even though I’d removed the immediate threat, she hasn’t relaxed at all. Perhaps she should be afraid. She’s done nothing to make me feel friendly toward her. She made me hate her. But that hatred was far easier to maintain when she wasn’t standing so close. Fuck it, Drum, why did you make me come here today?

  Reacting to her physical symptoms, I gentle my voice and go to the sagging couch. “Look, darlin’, let’s sit down and you can tell me what the problem is.” Seating myself, I prop my elbows on my knees and, after patting the not very clean cushion next to me, rest my chin on my clasped hands. Sitting here reminds me of the first time I met her, and for a moment I wonder, had I known what I was sending her into would I still have asked her to work for the club? If she’d refused, would I have walked out of this house, out of her life, and never returned? There’s not much point thinking about what might have been. It’s done and dusted. And we both came out losers. For the first time in months I feel a slight easing of the storm raging inside, a crack in the walls I’d built up to keep her out.

  Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, but she pulls herself up straight and I see some of the backbone she’d originally shown when, clearly reluctant, she comes and sits at the other end of the couch. As it’s only a two-seater and long since lost any springiness it might have had, our combined weights cause it to dip, and her body slips toward mine. Unable to keep my distance, without thinking I unclasp my hands and wrap my fingers around one of hers.

  “Speak to me, Ella.”

  A little frightened glance in my direction, and though it trembles and she tries to pull away, when I grip it tighter she finally relents and lets me keep hold of her hand. I give it a squeeze in encouragement.

  My attention is drawn to her slender neck when she swallows a couple of times, then, at last, she starts to speak.

  “It’s my sister. Jayden.”

  I sharpen my eyes, unaware she had family. We hadn’t spoken about it before. Mind you, we hadn’t talked much about anything. And perhaps our lack of communication had been part of the problem. “Your sister?” I prompt.

  “Yeah. She’s only fourteen and lives with my mom.” She shakes her head. “My mom’s a piece of work. Wrapped up in herself and in her new man.”

  Knowing Ella has to be some years older than her sister I ask, “She your full sister?”

  “Yes. She was an accident. She’s nine years younger than me. Guess Mom got careless.” She gives another one of her half-smiles. “Mom never wanted her, but then, she didn’t really want me either. She’s not got much of a maternal instinct.” She pauses and clears her throat. “I’ve tried talking to her, but she’s blind to, or not bothered about what’s going on with her younger daughter.”

  “And what is goin’ on?”

  She looks down at our joined hands as though only just noticing I am still holding on. “There’s something wrong. She’s only fourteen, Slick, but I think she’s seeing an older man.”

  “You want I should go talk to him?” That would be easy enough.

  Another shake of her head. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.” She pulls away from my touch, stands, and walks to the window. When she turns around her arms are clasped around her body. “She used to be so vibrant and happy. She’s a pretty girl, but now she’s lost her sparkle. There’s something up, but I don’t know what.”

  “You tried talkin’ to her?”

  Her head jerks. “Yeah, of course I have. Despite the age difference we used to be close, not so much now. In many ways, I’ve been more like a mom to her, making sure she has everything she needs for school, taking her shopping for clothes, stuff like that.” She purses her lips and then starts speaking faster, the words tumbling out one aft
er another. “I went around there last week, she had a new iPad. She was wearing new clothes, one’s Mom couldn’t afford. There’s no way they came from Walmart.”

  “Someone’s buyin’ her stuff,” I surmise. “Did you ask who?”

  “She clammed up and wouldn’t tell me. Tried to hide the iPad when she noticed I’d seen it. Slick, she’s not happy, her eyes, they look dead. She’s not my happy little sister anymore, something’s very wrong.” She comes back and sits on the couch, her body angled so she can look at me. “Slick, I want to find out who she’s seeing, who’s buying her these things, and who’s leeching the life out of her.” She looks down for a moment, “I’ve tried following her, but she got picked up in a car and I haven’t got transport as Tilly had taken hers that day. I waited for her to come home, she stayed out all night.”

  “What did your mom say?”

  “She shrugged it off. Said she often stays round a girlfriend’s, doing homework together.”

  “But you don’t buy that?”

  “No. I asked Mom where she was getting her money from. She didn’t care. I think she knows something’s up, but it’s easier if she doesn’t admit it.” Biting her lip, she raises her eyes to meet mine. “I wondered if there’s some way your computer guy, Mouse, could help find out where she’s going. Find out who she’s seeing?”

  A fourteen-year-old kid. And presumably an older man buying expensive gifts for her, no kid her own age would be able to afford iPads and the like. Who’s not making her happy. I start to see why she’s worried. Mouse might be able to help her. Or perhaps we can put a prospect on her, to follow her and find out where she goes.

  “She’s unhappy, Slick. And I don’t know why. I’m worried sick.”