by Zoey Parker
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
The Devil’s Chopper: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Inferno Hunters MC) (Owned by Outlaws Book 4) copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
The Devil’s Chopper: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Inferno Hunters MC) (Owned by Outlaws Book 4)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Books by Zoey Parker
The Devil’s Blaze: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Fury Riders MC) (Owned by Outlaws Book 3)
The Devil’s Scar: A Mafia Hitman Romance (Owned by Outlaws Book 2)
The Devil’s Vow: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Silent Havoc MC)
Buying My Wife: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Moretti Mafia)
Buying My Bride: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Wild Aces MC)
Don’t Ruin My Baby: The Predators MC
Don’t Take My Baby: Twisted Ghosts MC
Don’t Hurt My Baby: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
Don’t Touch My Baby: Ricci Family Mafia
Bearing His Seed: Anarchy’s Horsemen MC
Zoey Parker Mailing List
The Devil’s Chopper: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Inferno Hunters MC) (Owned by Outlaws Book 4)
By Zoey Parker
She bought a one-way ride on the devil’s chopper.
The monster is coming to drag her back to the depths of the hell she escaped.
But he’ll have to go through me.
Because she’s fallen into my arms…
And I’ll slaughter any man who tries to take her from me.
PARKER
The night my fiancée died in my arms, I swore that I would never love again.
The tragedy turned my heart to stone.
Inked my soul as black as night.
I’ve spent years like this.
Drinking, fighting, and f**king the pain away as a patched brother of the Inferno Hunters MC.
But when I meet Ellie, everything changes.
I want her in my bed.
In my arms.
On my motorcycle.
Ellie deserves better than a broken man like me.
But that doesn’t stop me from making her mine.
And when her filthy ex tries to claw her and her baby daughter back?
I swear one thing:
I’ll get them back or I’ll die trying.
Because Ellie has turned my heart of rock into a living, beating one.
One that’ll love her until my dying breath.
ELLIE
After my divorce, I swore off men.
What good did a man ever do me?
None – until Parker walked into my diner.
He protected me from my abusive beast of an ex-husband…
And showed me that there might be some good left in this world.
With dark eyes and a voice like sin, the gorgeous biker makes me want to abandon my oath to keep away from men.
And when he touches me?
I can hardly remember my name.
The bad boy makes me want to believe in happily ever after.
But, of course, that’s when my ex-husband pounces, relentless in his thirst for revenge against me.
He holds me and my baby girl hostage, with who knows what kind of vicious, bloody vengeance looming as the next step in his plan.
I can only pray my outlaw hero saves us in time.
I may have given up hope of ever finding happiness.
But if Parker finds a way to protect me and my daughter…
I swear to love him until the end of time.
Chapter 1
Ellie
“Table thirteen’s flagging you down, Ellie.”
I turned my head away, hiding my disgust. Being unprofessional wouldn’t help me score a tip or keep my job.
I went to the table, smiling as naturally as I could.
“Can we have more coffee?”
I’d already poured the table of college kids at least five cups of coffee, but I told them I’d be right back with a fresh pot. I mumbled to myself throughout the walk to the machine.
“Oh my God. They’ve been here for two hours,” Sandy muttered. A lifelong waitress, Sandy had seen everything.
“Yeah, and I’ll be lucky if I make a dollar from them.” Nobody wanted the poor college kids who took up valuable real estate by spending hours talking, laughing, writing lame poetry or doing their homework. Meanwhile, more lucrative customers came and went while a perfectly good table sat occupied. I’d missed out on at least twenty dollars in tips in those two hours, I estimated.
“Next time, I’ll take them,” she promised, patting me on the shoulder before lifting a tray laden with greasy food and carrying it to another table.
I did my best to be kind and considerate while pouring fresh cups for my four customers. “Would any of you like something to eat?” I asked, eyeing up the long-empty fry basket in the middle of the table. I picked it up.
“We’re good, thanks.” None of them looked up from their devices. They just didn’t get it, stupid entitled hipsters.
I turned before they could catch a glimpse of the snarl I couldn’t suppress. I’d love to see what any one of them would do if they were ever in the same situation as me.
The rest of my tables were quiet, just about finishing up their meals. I took the opportunity to sneak a few mouthfuls of food in the kitchen—the first time I’d eaten in hours. I’d been working a double, from three in the afternoon until five in the morning. I checked the clock as I shoveled soup into my mouth. Nearly eleven o’clock. Six hours to go.
“Who’s watching Izzy?” Jimmy, the line cook, asked. He always made sure I had food to eat throughout my shifts.
“My mom spends the night on my couch when I’m working these crazy shifts. She picked Isabella up from school this afternoon. I hate having her do it, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make the cash.”
Jimmy shook his head with a wry smile. “I don’t know how you do it.” He handed over a plate of eggs and bacon for a single customer at the counter.
“I don’t either.” I turned with the eggs, leaving the kitchen by one of two swinging doors. I wasn’t kidding—I had no ide
a how I would manage to stay awake and alert until five, then make the ten-minute drive home and stay awake until it was time to get Isabella off to school. I didn’t want to sleep in between since I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to wake up once it was time to do so. It was always easier for me to stay awake straight through than to try to catch a few winks, no matter how desperately I needed the rest.
The chime above the front door sounded and I looked up just in time to see a group of rough-looking men walk into the diner. Oh great, I thought. Bikers. They were all I needed after an already challenging night.
Sandy was always better than me at being nice to people like them, the ones who came in and acted like they owned the place. All they ever did was eat like slobs, curse, pinch the fannies of the waitresses and try to make passes. Still, they were generous tippers—how they made their money, I didn’t want to know.
Sandy handed out their menus and smiled indulgently at their shenanigans—shoving each other, laughing raucously, spreading themselves out across a long table. We made eye contact. A slight jerk of her head toward the table told me they were mine if I wanted them. I didn’t want them, but I did want the money. I could easily make forty or fifty dollars from a table of ten. Isabella needed a new pair of shoes, and we were running low on groceries. I smoothed down the front of my apron and put a smile on my face before visiting the table. Here we go.
I kept smiling as I stood beside them, studying them all as quickly as I could. A very rough group. They fairly oozed ferocious energy. “Hi, guys. I’m Ellie, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
All of them looked me up and down, but I could handle that. The oldest of the group, a grizzled man who wore aviator sunglasses even indoors, grinned widely from his seat at the head of the table. “I’ll say you can take care of me tonight.” Laughter all around. I was prepared for that, too.
“Can I get you all started off with something to drink?” Everybody wanted coffee. Easy enough. I hurried behind the counter, setting a new pot to brew, pulling out coffee cups and saucers. I filled two pitchers with water, too, and placed water glasses on my tray. Even at a distance, I heard them muttering and joking about me. Remember the tip. Remember the tip. When I thought about the time I spent on my education, earning straight As all throughout high school and college, all to wait tables in a rundown diner while being catcalled and ogled…
I passed out the cups, the glasses, and placed a pitcher at either end of the table along with two carafes of extra coffee. After everything looked settled, I pulled out my order pad. “Do you all know what you want, or do you need a little more time?”
Nothing I could say would dissuade them from being slimy creeps. I told myself to be strong, that they’d find a way to put a sexual spin on anything I said. It didn’t help that the diner’s owner thought it was adorable to have his waitresses wear the old-fashioned striped dresses fashionable in diners decades earlier. The dress’s hem fell right to the middle of my thigh, and its cut showed off every curve of my body. I might as well have been naked, seeing as how the bikers took inventory of me with their eyes.
“I think we all know what we want, honey.” More snickers, more leering.
I squared my shoulders. “I meant to eat.”
“So did we.” More laughter.
My cheeks burned hotly.
“Quit it.” A rough voice, low and sonorous. It fairly rumbled. My eyes met the eyes of one of the men at the table. He sat to the right of the old man at the head, and he didn’t look happy. “Let her do her job, dickheads.”
“Oooh!” The rest of them laughed and feigned fear. I couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief at their reaction—for a split second, I’d been afraid they’d start fighting. I could only imagine what it would be like to start a biker fight in the diner. I’d imagined myself kissing my job goodbye.
Not only did they not fight, but they suddenly became a lot more respectful. I wondered at the sudden change, and knew it had to do with whatever power the dark-haired, dark-eyed man had over them. He was young—younger than the man at the head of the table by at least twenty or thirty years—but he commanded respect.
They ordered the usual diner food, which was a relief. Things Jimmy could cook in a hurry, so I could get them out of there. I didn’t know for sure what it was about them that turned me off, but I couldn’t stand the way they made me feel. Ogling was one thing—I was used to it, especially during the overnight shifts which I’d so frequently covered. Most women took such behavior in stride, especially women built like me. Small but curvy. Men took a look at my body and immediately wondered what they could do to it. So gross.
“Okay, let’s get it straight,” I said, reading off the orders, pointing to each man in turn. I started at the head of the table. “A double burger, medium rare, fries, no onion. A double burger with bacon, rare, fries and onion rings, absolutely no vegetables. Double order of chicken fingers and fries with brown gravy and cheese. A turkey club with extra mayo, fries with ranch dressing. Meat lover’s omelet, bacon, potatoes and rye toast. Eggs over-easy, bacon, potatoes with cheese, white toast. A bacon and mushroom burger, medium rare with burned bacon, fries with cheese sauce on the side. Pancakes with bacon and sausage. Roast beef sandwich with fries, au jus on the side.” Then I looked up, reciting the last order to the man with the sultry dark eyes. “A grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and fries with cheese, bacon and sour cream.”
All of them nodded appreciatively, as though impressed I got it all correct. Meanwhile, I wondered how any of them were still alive after the amount of saturated fat in their diets. They hinted about dessert once they finished, too. Anything to improve my tip, but I couldn’t help shaking my head a little as I walked away. Between their eating habits and the cigarette packs sticking out of every leather vest, it was a wonder they had pulses.
None of my business, I reminded myself. Let them act like idiots and eat themselves into an early grave. It didn’t bother me any.
It also didn’t have an obvious physical effect on most of them, especially my knight in not-so-shining armor, who had a body that would make the Statue of David green with envy. What did he do to earn a body like that? He had to work out. From his obvious toughness and the roughened knuckles, I guessed he boxed. I laughed at myself for even paying attention to his knuckles.
As I prepped the condiments and sauces for the various orders, I glanced back at the table. The oldest man had his back to me. On his vest was a large patch, covering most of it. Inferno Hunters, it said. So that was their name. Gee. How terrifying. I chuckled softly. Little boys playing big-boy games. I knew all about little boys.
While I waited for Jimmy to finish the food, I noticed my college kids had left. I went to bus their table, knowing I wouldn’t find a tip for the hours of time they wasted. Sure enough, there was an entire dollar there. In quarters. I smirked, remembering what it was like to be a poor college kid without the slightest clue what it meant to earn a living in the world, and snatched the change from the table.
Just as I did, I caught the eye of my knight. The rest of the men around the table laughed, joked, told stories. He watched me. Silently. One corner of his mouth curved into a sexy, knowing smile. Arrogant, too. I could only shrug, then clear the table with a blush coloring my cheeks. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. Like he could see inside me. I didn’t want that.
Sandy came over, taking the bus tray from my hands. “Here, I’ll finish what little’s left. Your order is starting to come up.” With the place virtually empty, there was little else for Jimmy to do but cook the ten orders. Then she leaned in. “I saw the way that sex machine over there is staring at you.”
“Ugh. Don’t make me puke,” I muttered.
“What’s a little harmless fun?” she asked, winking. “If I were fifteen years younger, I’d climb him like a tree. You mark my words.”
“I bet you would.” I laughed, going to the order window to pick up the food. Yes, he was just Sandy’s type, too.
She had a bad habit of falling for the wrong men. The men who cheated and lied and charmed. I had no time for that, and I certainly had no time for a man I couldn’t count on to stay out of jail. I had a little girl to think about. I had myself, too.
It took two trips to deliver all of the food, then another two to refill the coffee and water, and to pour out a few soft drinks. By the time I finished, my arms ached. I made sure they were all happy, then signaled to Sandy that I needed a break. My feet ached terribly, to the point where it was hard to keep a smile on my face.
For a twenty-five-year-old woman, I felt awfully old. I thought about what other girls my age did, how they lived. What they did for fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. It wasn’t part of my vocabulary anymore. Life was entirely about my little girl, making sure she was safe and happy and healthy. Everything else fell away the moment the doctor placed her in my arms, and became much direr in the more than three years since then. Back in the day, when she was born, I wasn’t alone yet.
“Hey, Ellie?” Sandy’s voice broke through my reverie. I had chosen a spot toward the back of the kitchen where I could prop my feet up on a stack of crates. She stood by the swinging door, looking very unhappy. I assumed it was something with my table.
