“But we aren’t going the entire way,” Finn said. “We have about five hours. Then we stop and there’s a hookup point. That’s where they take it. The main route is the one being watched, covered. That’s where the risk is.”
“Risk,” I said.
“Yeah,” Finn said. “But we pack right, make it look like a MC run, and nothing will happen.”
“Christ,” I whispered.
I looked at the map. I knew where Oakville was. And I knew right where Shelby’s mother was. Hours away. Any question on my part and I could call Nicolas and he’d provide me a direct location. The son of a bitch wanted the woman dead but wouldn’t do it himself. He wanted me to do it. He wanted to prove some kind of alliance with Devil Call. If I did it, he’d owe me big time.
I scanned the table.
“Set it up,” I said. “We need the cash. For more than one reason.”
Everyone chuckled and looked at Ransom.
“Come on,” Ransom said. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it?” Brett asked.
“She was comfortable,” Ransom said. “Someone out of the clubhouse.”
“You paid her and you didn’t fuck her?” Hawke asked.
“No,” Ransom said.
“You charged four grand for what?” Finn asked. “Hugs and cuddles?”
Ransom stood up. “Yeah. Maybe I fucking did.” He grabbed a beer bottle and chucked it at Finn.
Finn ducked and the bottle smashed the wall behind him. Finn made a charge for Ransom. The rest of the table cleared the path. The two tangled up and took each other to the ground for no good damn reason.
I had no interest in this fight. Ransom was embarrassed and Finn was pissed off. They’d work it out and then have a beer.
I left the meeting room and looked back, slightly satisfied.
Ransom hadn’t fucked that woman, Jessa.
Why the fuck did that matter to me?
I went to the bar and ordered another beer.
Now we were going to run some weapons for big cash. With the Mountain Killers pushing up north for some reason, the local PD on our ass, and the mafia tightening their grip on my neck.
I lifted my beer bottle to nothing and nodded.
Cheers, motherfuckers.
11.
(Shelby)
I looked at myself in the mirror again. The black dress fit nicely. I actually felt pretty for once in my life. Even though the circumstances surrounding it weren’t that happy.
We were getting ready for Pep’s last ride.
Layne had decided that since Pep was an old President, he deserved a last ride. It was something that wasn’t done too often, but Layne was President. He made the call. Finn argued him on it, as always, but Layne was the one in control. I didn’t know the situation that had Pep in and out of Devil Call MC. But Layne felt guilty for Pep’s death.
I fixed a couple loose strands of hair and the bedroom door opened.
“Fucking hell.”
I looked at Layne in the reflection of the mirror.
“You like?” I asked.
“Beautiful, sweetheart,” he said. “We have to ride soon.”
I turned around. “I’m climbing on the back of a motorcycle while wearing a dress?”
“Fuck yeah. What did you think?”
“I thought we were getting into cars…”
“We’re bikers, sweetheart. We ride face to the wind. Always. The only one in a car is Pep.”
I nodded. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Layne, I know you feel guilty.”
He shut the door. “Yeah?”
“I see it in your face. What happened…”
“You don’t know what fucking happened!” Layne growled at me.
I stiffened. “Hey… I’m just trying…”
“Stop fucking trying,” Layne said. He closed in on me. “Fuck, Shelby.” He grabbed my hand and lifted it. “Look at your wrists. Didn’t you learn your lesson yet?”
I shook away from him and slapped him across the face. Then I gasped, grabbed my face, and jumped back. I hit the mirror and thought it was going to shatter.
Layne put his hands to the wall and looked down at me. “You want the fucking truth? Pep was going to die from his wounds no matter what. But I was going to be the one to make the call to pull the fucking plug. That got taken away from me. Because of the mafia. Those motherfuckers showed up, drugged Pep to death, killed four prospects, and then gave me Stryker’s head in a bag.”
I swore my heart stopped for a second. I stared at Layne with such intensity that my eyes started to hurt.
I muttered one thing. “What?”
“That’s the entire story. I buried Stryker’s head. Then the Mountain Killers showed up with the rest of the body. They think we did it. The mafia is putting the muscle to the MC. Which I now have to take care of. So if I look guilty or feel guilty, don’t fucking call me out on it. The old bastard should still be behind his bar, serving drinks.”
I reached out and touched Layne’s face. “You’re right. He should be there. If they shot the bar…”
Layne grabbed my hand and tore it away. “No. You don’t get to do that either. There’s no going back. Just forward.”
Layne pushed away from the wall and went to the door. He opened and nodded. That was my cue to shut up and walk.
Outside, the guys were all ready to go. Everyone was dressed in black, top to bottom. No blue jeans today. All black. There was a group of guys staying behind to guard the clubhouse.
I climbed onto Layne’s ride, my dress getting hiked up. I slid my arms around Layne and gripped his leather tight. We were then lost in a sea of Devil Call MC bikers. The motorcycles growled, rumbling deep in my ears. We all rode from the lot to the road, a black hearse riding behind me and Layne. Behind that was the rest of the guys. Through the roads of Oakville, the last ride was slow. The kind of empty ride that left your mind racing and your heart full, ready to just break.
We were led into the cemetery by two men dressed in suits. I found it a little weird to see an actual priest standing at a freshly dug grave. From all I had seen and gathered about the MC, there was no such thing as religion or faith when it came to their life. Christ, the only thing they actually believed in was death because that was real and what they saw almost everyday.
The hearse stopped at the grave. The motorcycles made a large circle around the grave. Layne stepped off his motorcycle and walked to the priest, leaving me behind. They shook hands, the priest grabbed Layne’s shoulder. Everything about it seemed strange and wrong.
Layne stood next to the priest as the hearse door was opened. The casket was carried out by several Devil Call MC guys. Everyone then gathered around to say goodbye to Pep. I just stood at the motorcycle until Layne gave me a wave. That’s when I approached him and he took me by the hand. One thing was damn sure - this really got to all the guys. Here they all were, tough bikers filled with muscle and no fear, but seeing someone they knew actually dead and about to be buried, it got to them.
They were silent as the priest spoke. Words of rest. Words of eternal life. Words of care, compassion, love for a brotherhood. Words that welcomed Pep into another world, a different life, a place where he can be in peace.
I wasn’t sure how much of the words actually meant a thing to any of the guys, but the words were poignant for the moment.
The priest then took a small bottle of water out of his robe and splashed it to the casket. Holy water. It made me wonder if Pep had some kind of belief in faith. I couldn’t imagine him like that though. Skinny, wrinkly skin, dark eyes, a cigarette between his lips. Always ready to throw a boney fist to someone’s face.
The guys then all stepped forward and put their hands to the casket, their final goodbye. I hung back. I had no business touching the casket. I had no business even being that close to the funeral itself. But Layne wanted me there. It meant something to me. Whether I was there for comfort, image, or
just to be protected, I was there.
I folded my hands in front of me.
The priest looked at me and nodded. He had pudgy cheeks and a light black beard on his face. He reached under his robe again. Nobody in Devil Call MC was watching the priest. Why would they? They were saying goodbye to a former President.
It shouldn’t have mattered at all… but it did.
Because the priest took out a gun.
And I screamed.
12.
(Shelby)
The guys all turned to face the priest. More guns were drawn. I covered my ears and just froze, trying to prepare myself for the ensuing bloodbath.
But nothing happened.
The priest stood there, holding the butt of a gun with three fingers. It was like he was afraid of the gun.
I took a few steps back and realized what was happening.
“Fuck!” Layne yelled.
“I was just giving you this,” the priest said. “It was Pep’s. I know how much it mattered. I wanted you to have it, Layne. I’ve blessed it and wish it proper use.”
I realized then it was Pep’s white gun. His most prized possession. I felt like Daddy in that moment, so damn paranoid about everything. Waiting for the next person to attack. Waiting for the next body to turn up dead.
The priest looked at me, his eyes wide.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t…”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand, dear. This is a different life than the one others live.”
“Jesus Christ,” Layne said. He looked at the priest. “Sorry.”
“Layne, I didn’t mean…”
Layne moved at me. He grabbed my hand tight. “You just gave everyone here a fucking heart attack.”
“I know,” I said. “I saw a gun.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Layne looked at the white gun and then looked to the guys. “This gun will only be used one more time. To kill the motherfucker who shot Pep. We will find out who did it. They will be captured. They will take a bullet to the throat with this weapon. Then they’ll bleed out and die, staring up at a ceiling, suffering. There will be no peace for them. No rest. No prayer. The ground they get buried in will not be sacred, holy, or blessed. Just rocks. Nothing but dirt and rocks.”
The guys started to cheer.
With that, the last ride was done.
Layne gave the orders and everyone returned to their motorcycles. He led the charge back to the clubhouse where a party quickly began. The funeral for Pep was an instant excuse to celebrate. To drink. To have women coming through the lot and clubhouse, ready to strip, suck, and fuck anyone they could.
I took my spot behind the bar, still wearing a black dress. I wanted to get changed and honestly just wanted to sleep. The funeral for Pep hadn’t been done in any fashion that normal people did. It had been held an hour before sunset. So now, it was dark outside. Darkness provided cover for the guys to do whatever they wanted.
Brett asked for a shot of whiskey and two beers. Some blondie had her head on his shoulder, looking ready to go. Axe was in the corner with two women completely naked, dancing. Finn had been with one woman, who was now sleeping on a pool table. He had another one now. He took her out of the clubhouse.
I hadn't seen Layne in over an hour. Jealousy hit me and I hated myself for it. It was dumb to worry, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. Whether or not Layne was fucking another woman shouldn’t have mattered. We weren’t together. We weren’t hitched. And even if we were, this life was different. The entire scene…
The door opened and Layne came walking in.
He finished off a beer and put the bottle on the bar.
I watched as two women looked at Layne and made a straight line for him. Before they could even touch him, Layne grabbed a barstool and blocked their path.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” he said. Then he looked at me. “You come with me right now.”
I stepped from behind the bar and Layne took me by the hand. He pulled and damn near dragged me through the clubhouse and down the hallway. He took me straight to his room and kicked open the door. When he shut the door and locked it, my heart began to race. He moved at me fast and had me by the waist. Then I was off my feet. Layne pinned me against the back wall.
“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he said.
“What? What did I do now?”
“That fucking dress. It’s been killing me.”
“The dress?”
Layne put me on my feet. His mouth then crashed to mine. He kissed me deep and hard. He stole my breath and stole my heart. My knees bent but his hand was right there, between my legs, reaching up the dress. His fingers dug at my panties, pressing against my warm center, bringing my wetness to life again with ease.
Breaking the kiss, Layne growled and spun me around. My hands hit the wall and I tried to brace myself. I looked back at Layne and watched the feral look in his eyes. He was drunk, guilty, and hard as a rock.
His hands lifted my dress, folding it over my lower back. As his hands slid down, he grabbed my panties and pulled them down to the back of my knees. Apparently that’s all he needed. His left hand squeezed at my ass while his other hand cut between my legs again. This time his bare fingers grazed my pussy. He massaged my wetness, spreading me everywhere.
“Goddammit,” he said. He looked at me. “You fucking kill me.”
“Just fuck me then,” I said. “Do whatever you want to me, Layne. Do it right now.”
“You don’t command me,” he said. He thrust himself at me, his cock still tucked into his jeans. “You beg me for it.”
“Please fuck me,” I groaned. “I’m soaking wet, Layne. Please just fuck me.”
Layne took his hands off my body and opened his jeans. He then tore off his leather cut and dropped it to the floor. Next came his black t-shirt, leaving me with nothing but chiseled MC muscle to stare at. When he unzipped his fly, his jeans slipped down to his ankles, his thick cock popping free.
He didn’t even bother touching himself this time. Instead, his hands grabbed my ass and spread me wide open. His thumbs touched the very edge of my wetness as he came forward at me. I felt the head of his cock touch me, penetrate me, demanding my body to stretch for him.
“That fucking dress,” he said. “You look so beautiful, Shelby.”
Beautiful? Shelby?
I opened my mouth to say something and Layne thrust. Hard. Deep. Filling me to the point where I was on my toes, my legs shaking.
He didn’t stop there either. His hands grabbed my waist and he held on tight. And he fucked me harder than he ever did before. All I could do was put my hands to the wall and push back at him. I was his. It’s what I wanted and what my body needed. No matter what danger and pain waited outside.
Layne slipped his hands up my body, taking the dress with him. He cupped my breasts and made me stand up. The pressure grew even more. I bit my lip, groaning. Layne put his mouth to my ear and grunted. He then started to come, surprising me finishing like he did. His beautiful cock pumped into me over and over.
But that wasn’t the most shocking thing.
Layne kissed my ear and then whispered, “I fucking love you, Shelby.”
Before I could respond, Layne pulled out of me and spun me, tossing me to the bed. I could barely breathe as a tingling warmth spread from between my legs and down. I clawed at the bed as my sex still pulsed.
I watched Layne walk to the door and leave.
When I found my breath and words, I said something, finally.
“I love you too.”
13.
(Layne)
I had five guys with me on the side of the road. We were far enough away from the main part of Oakville I wasn’t worried about getting made out here. Not to mention Sheriff fucking Bob wouldn’t want to get involved with this meeting. He was better left in town, worrying about ties to the mafia.
Out in the dirt I saw the black dots of what would reveal themselves as cars. T
wo black cars, two motorcycles.
“They don’t believe in roads?” I asked.
“Not if they can avoid them,” Finn said. “Makes it harder to track them. Think about it. Between the flats here and the mountains a little north. They know how to hide.”
“Yet they still do business,” I said. “You have to admire that.”
“It’s more desperation,” Finn said. “So they don’t lose ground. Play it easy with them, Layne. They’re an asset.”
“You telling me what to do, Finn?”
I looked at Finn. He looked at me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or being a prick. Goddamn, I wanted to punch the guy in the face. Maybe that’s what we really needed. Just to go at it. I wanted the truth out of him in the worst way. I wanted to know what he was hiding from me and from the club.
The cars and motorcycles came to a stop. The bikers climbed off their rides. They were built like tanks. Bald, dark skin, tattoos everywhere. They wore black sunglasses and opened their leather jackets to show they were packing guns.
The backdoor to one of the cars opened and out came two men. Suits and ties. Deep purple colored ties. Their skin was naturally tan, smooth, no tattoos, no earrings. Clean cut and looking as straight laced as possible. Yet when I looked into their eyes, they were anything but.
“This is the new President,” one said and offered his hand.
I shook it.
“I’m Johnston.”
“I’m Layne. Thanks for meeting us.”
“Thanks for offering to help. This is my right hand man, Carlin.”
“Hey,” I said and shook his hand.
Carlin nodded and then folded his arms. “Why should we trust you dirty ass motherfucking bikers?”
“Peaceful, huh?” I asked, looking at Finn.
“Cut the shit,” Finn said to Carlin. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”
“Look, we’ll get down to the numbers,” Johnston said. “My guys pulled a security detail fifteen miles out looking for me. Apparently there was a few homicides right outside Reno last week. Shallow graves. Such a waste.”
SAVAGE HEART (Layne & Shelby Book Two) (A Devil Call MC Book) Page 11
