Broken: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel

by Natasha Thomas

  Waggling his eyebrows at me, he pulls me in for a tight hug saying,

  “I knew you’d turn out business savvy. Pity we don’t have you dealing with all the clubs bullshit like this.” There’s pride in his voice the way he says it, and I can’t help the way my shoulders straighten a little more and my chin lifts in response.

  “Well you should know, it was you that had me hanging around here and the shop for hours on end when I was a kid. I was bound to pick up something.”

  Fixing his gaze over my shoulder he yells,

  “Glock, haven’t seen you round here during the day for ages man. Come over here.”

  Oh shit. I need to get out of here now. It’s been a week since the last time I’d laid eyes on this man, and I need to get the fuck away from him before I ended up saying, or doing something that would have my dad getting suspicious. Because that’s the last thing I need right now, my dad making assumptions, and turning into a raving lunatic over something that isn’t even a maybe anymore.

  I would have been perfectly happy to explain everything calmly, and rationally to my dad if Glock and I went the distance, if what we had became anything more than the fleeting one afternoon we spent together. But because it was just that; only an afternoon, I don’t see any need to set my dad off on a rant that will only serve to piss me off, and get Glock in a world of shit. No matter how much the asshole deserves it.

  And he does deserve it. I mean, who takes someone’s virginity the way he did mine, tenderly, passionately, and possessively. Demanding I tell him who I belong to, making me feel like I’m the only woman in the world he wants to make love to for the rest of his life, and then doesn’t call. Doesn’t reply to messages, and avoids me like I have a severe case of herpes. A miserable asshole, that’s who.

  Sparing a quick glance back over my shoulder, I gather my things, shoving them haphazardly in my purse, and rise to my tip toes to kiss dads cheek.

  “Love you dad. I have stuff to do, but make sure you call me when you’ve talked that stuff over with them, okay?” I do well to keep the thread of nervousness out of my voice, but I know if I don’t get a move on I won’t be able to hide it for much longer.

  Kissing me back he asks,

  “You sure you have to go right now? It feels like I haven’t spent any time with my girl in ages. Stay, have a drink, the other shit can wait.”

  It’s true, we haven’t just hung out in ages, but today will not be the day to break that streak. Dad and I have always been super close, me often visiting the clubhouse or Chasers just to say hi and check in. Since I moved out of home I’ve made sure to make it a weekly thing, if not more than once a week that I drop by. But here, with Glock so close, and the air around us shifting with the tension I’m radiating, and I know Glock feels too, I have to leave.

  Sadly I shake my head.

  “It can’t, I’m sorry dad. I have to make it into Boulder and back before it gets too dark, and I promised I’d take Emma to the movies tonight. I’ll come by home later this week though. Promise.”

  It’s not a complete lie, I prefer to think of it as a half-truth. I don’t really have anything to do in Boulder, but I’m sure I could use a new pair of boots, and I know the guys need a few things I could pick up if I was there. Also it’s a great excuse. Dad hates me driving in the dark if I’m by myself, so I know he won’t argue with me over it. That and, I do in fact have a date with Emma to see the new Fast and the Furious movie that just came out. She has a teeny, tiny crush, which means she’s actually madly in love with, Vin Diesel, so she made me promise her that the first day after it was released that she could see it I would take her. No convincing needed here. I don’t mind fast cars, action galore, and hot man candy to drool over for two hours, so of course I agreed. Not to mention I love spending time with Emma, no matter what we end up doing together.

  I press my lips together tightly when I hear the rumbled,

  “Hey, brother. Hi, Lex,” from Glock.

  The fact he’s talking to me now isn’t a surprise. Especially because I’m sure he doesn’t want my dad to know something happened between us anymore than I do.

  Not turning toward him, I focus on the strap of my purse, hitching it higher on my shoulder.

  “Um hi, Glock.” Ignoring my dads’ raised eyebrows, I take two steps in the opposite direction from which he came and say, “I’ll catch you later, dad. I need to get on the road.”

  With a quick wave, and even quicker steps, I make my way out into the fresh air and blinding sunlight. But not even a deep breath, and the gorgeous day it is outside brightens my mood any. I can only pray that in time I’ll be able to get over the man who broke my heart. I don’t hold out much hope however.

  There are only very few things in life that can break a person, and I think Mark Twain said it best; “The two most important days in your life is the day you were born, and the day you find out why.” I found my why in Glock. That’s what causes me to highly doubt there is any coming back from the kind of heartbreak loving someone you can’t have creates. But…we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Thomas

  “I don’t hate you, I just wish

  I could re-arrange your face with a meat cleaver.”

  - Rotten eCard

  I have never wanted to be anywhere less, I think as I stare across the table at my brothers. Church at six o’clock in the fucking morning is ridiculous. Who the hell thought any of us would be sober or awake enough for this shit is beyond me, but here we are.

  My head is throbbing, my mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton wool, and my palms are sweating. Probably what I get for only stopping drinking three hours ago, but how the fuck was I to know Priest would get a bee up his ass, and want to call Church today? The answer is I didn’t, so I hope he’s happy with grunted answers to any questions from me, because that’s all he’s getting. It’s pretty much all I’m capable of.

  Stomping on the toe of my boot under the table, Saint asks,

  “What the fuck is wrong with you this morning, asshat? You look like someone drank you down and threw you up.”

  Fuck him too. I’m not in the mood for his shit on top of this. I love the guy, he’s my best friend and brother, but his way of asking if I’m okay leaves a lot to be desired. Kicking him in the shit I reply shortly,

  “Nothing.”

  Snorting, he gives me the heads up.

  “Cheer up asshat, we’ll be done here soon so you can get back to whatever bottle you climbed out of. But eyes up man, because if you’re not on the ball, Pipe or Reaper will kick your ass.”

  I grunt at him to tell him I hear him, but I could give a shit whether they kick my ass or not. It wouldn’t be a whole lot different than the way I’m feeling already, so have at it. No more than a minute later, Priest, Pipe, Reaper, and Tank walk in, taking their seats at the head of the table, all of them wearing varying masks of disgust and anger.

  Banging the gavel harshly Priest’s voice booms through the cavernous space,

  “We’ve got a problem. We don’t usually get involved in other clubs shit, but this time is different. Vengeance called in a marker, and we’re gonna do what we can to help them out on this one. As you are all aware, Satan’s Sons have been running shit up and down the coast in and out of Vengeance territory for a while now. Boss called about two hours ago, and told us they had an issue with their latest shipment trying to be jacked.”

  Murmurs and grunts go up around the table, but before they have a chance to get out of hand, Priest bangs his fist on the table silencing us all.

  “Shut the fuck up would you, story time’s not finished.” Waiting until everyone’s quietened down, Priest looks to the ceiling shaking his head in disbelief, muttering something about kindergarteners. When silence descends he continues. “They don’t need help finding the bastards that tried jacking it, they need support riders from a neighboring club to help send a message they aren’t gonna be fucked with again.
We owe those boys a hell of a lot more than a few men to ride alongside some transports for a month or so, but if that’s what they’re asking for as payment, that’s what we’re doing.” Eyeing us suspiciously, as if one of us would disagree, Priest leans back in his chair appearing satisfied when no one speaks up. “Glad none of you boys raised complaint, because I was gonna tell you this isn’t up for debate. We all agreed when shit went down with Kendall, V, her fucking sister who’s going by the name Savannah now, that we’d be up for anything when and if they called their marker in. All that’s gotta be decided is who’s going, and who’s staying.”

  Hands go up in offering, and I notice Davies, the brother currently wearing the First Rider patch is the first to put his hat in the ring. Followed by Dagger, Shifty, Saint, and Noah. Before assignments are handed out, Pipe speaks up looking directly at me.

  “You too, brother. Need a good wing man for Saint. One on either side of the transport, one behind, two in front. You good with that?”

  It doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a fucking choice, and I can’t say I wouldn’t like the chance to get out of Blackwater for a bit. The runs won’t be long, a few days a week there and back at most. But they’ll be enough to get me out of town, away from the temptation of going to Lex and begging for her to take me back.

  It’s been a long fucking eight days without her. Who’d have thought that in just over a week I’d miss her like this? Like my heart has been literally ripped from my chest. In a way it has. Lex has owned my heart for so long that I can’t remember a time she didn’t hold it in the palm of her hand. Being near her was enough to make it through those long, lonely years I couldn’t touch her to begin with. Now that I’ve held her, been inside her, claimed her body, and marked her as mine, from the inside out, being near her is not nearly good enough. Not even fucking close.

  I need to hold her again. I want to talk to her, explain what went down after I left her. I want to tell her I’m sorry. So fucking sorry for leaving her feeling used and discarded, because I’m sure she does, what woman wouldn’t? I took her virginity, told her I loved her, that I fucking adored her and then walked away. I should be shot for treating her like a piece of ass, I probably will be too if anyone finds out. But no matter what she thinks of me, or how she feels about me, she was never just a woman to warm my bed. She never will be.

  I can’t even think about fucking anyone else that’s how under my skin she is. I’ve had offers, most of them from Candice, but the thought of touching her, or anyone else has me swallowing back bile. None of them would be her. None of them would have her soft skin, her beautiful blue eyes that shine when she’s happy. None of those other women would make me want to wrap them in my arms and protect them with a ferocity I didn’t know I had. And none of them would ever come close to making me love them the way I love Lex. No one ever will.

  The shuffle of boots leaving the room has my head snapping up to face a concerned looking Priest. Fuck me. How long was I out of it, and what the hell did I miss.

  “Stay behind for a minute would you Glock? I need to talk to you about something.”

  There’s no anger behind his words, and he isn’t reaching for his piece. All good signs, so clearly it’s not about me and Lex, or I’ve got no doubt both of the above would be on the table right now. Nodding my ascent, I lean back and wait for the huge double doors closing Church off from the clubhouse shut.

  I notice in passing that Tank leaves, but Pipe and Reaper are still firmly in their seats. I take it whatever needs to be said involves them somehow too. Clearing his throat, Reaper speaks first.

  “Before we start, I need you to know that nothing said in this room goes anywhere else. It’s only us three that know, and we’re keeping it that way. What you choose to do with what we tell you is your business, but know this; the club is behind you a hundred and ten fucking percent with whatever you decided to do, yeah?”

  Crossing my arms across my chest I ask,

  “Wouldn’t doubt it, but you mind me asking what the fuck you’re talking about before I say yeah to that?”

  Furrowing his brow Pipe leans forward eyeing me warily.

  “Got a package delivered here, addressed to Priest directly, postmarked out of Denver. Standard mail, no courier, no need to sign, no tracking on it. First thought it was normal shit, bills, fines, or whatever. We need you to know we wouldn’t have opened this shit if we’d known different, brother.” Sliding an A4 envelope across the table to me, Pipe sits back with his jaw clenched tightly.

  Lifting the flap, I take one look at the page on top and slam the envelope back onto the table not bothering to look at the rest of them. I can feel my face flushing in anger and embarrassment, because what the fuck? I never thought my past would catch up with me here. I thought I was home free when I joined the MC and patched in. But obviously that wasn’t the case.

  Placing my hands flat on the table in front of me, I snarl,

  “When did you say this got delivered?”

  Hesitating briefly, the look of sadness Priest give me is only tempered by the contempt in his voice when he says,

  “Yesterday. I’m fucking sorry, Glock. I had no idea when I pulled you out of that shit this was what I was taking you from.” Pausing, his face changes to a mask of fury before adding, “But now I do, you can damn well believe I’m gonna find those motherfuckers and put them to ground for this shit. No one, and I mean fucking no one, messes with one of us, especially like that and gets to walk free and breathe easy brother, I promise you that.”

  Rubbing the nape of my neck I sigh and grit me teeth. I never wanted anyone to know the shit I lived through before coming here. It was bad enough Priest saw a glimpse at the way I’d been living when he found me, let alone getting a good idea of the rest of it now. This was my story to tell, and I didn’t want it told. No one would.

  Frowning I ask,

  “You done any digging on this yet?”

  “If you’re asking if I gave this to Cage to look into, the answer is no. Like Reaper said, no one outside the four of us know about this, and that’s the way it’ll stay till you decide otherwise,” Priest replies, his lips twisted into a tight line.

  “I don’t, want to change it that is.” Shaking my head to clear the murderous thoughts running through my head at what I’d like to do if I get my hands on the fucker I ask, “I think you know I’ve gotta send a message though. You got any problems backing me when I do that?”

  “Fuck no!” Pipe bellows. “You say the word, and we’ll hunt the fuckers down and send a real clear message about what people like them deserve.”

  Tilting his head in agreement, Reaper adds,

  “I’ve got no problem running some checks, finding out what I can about why this shit’s just showing up now, brother. Can’t be too hard to trace them if you can give me a name, address, anything you’ve got.”

  “Yeah, I can do that,” I say curling my lip. “I’ll get that to you by the end of the day.” Shoving the envelope back his way, because I sure a shit don’t want to open it again I demand, “Destroy that shit would you? Burn it, shred it, fucking use it to wipe your ass, I don’t care, just get it the fuck away from me.”

  Pushing up from the table, I leave both palms firmly planted on the surface and lean in closer.

  “You know when we find them this means fucking payback, right? I won’t go easy, and I won’t show any mercy. You’re not down with that then say so now, because I don’t plan on leaving them in one fucking piece when I’m done with them, and this might get messy.”

  “I fucking live for messy, son.” Reaper sneers.

  Shit just got real, I muse. I just fucking pray it doesn’t leak back into my life the way I think it’s going to, because that would break me all over again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Alexis

  “Yes, I plan to forgive and forget…

  Forgive how stupid I was, and plan to forget you.”

  - Rotten eCards

  I
t’s been seven weeks, four days, thirteen hours, and twenty-six minutes since I last saw or heard anything from Glock, aside from the one hello I said to him at the clubhouse six weeks ago that is. And don’t judge me for knowing the exact time I last had contact with him, because class it as a win I’m not logging the seconds anymore.

  Call me naïve, call me stupid, but I thought after what we did, after everything Glock said to me at the lake that day we’d be together. Like a couple, a real relationship. My first relationship. I should have known better. I should have looked at the relationships around me and seen nothing would ever be that easy.

  I mean come on, it was glaringly obvious from the beginning that a thirty-two, nearly thirty-three year old biker that’s never been committed to anything other than his bike and his club would never want a barely adult, innocent woman like me. And if that wasn’t enough clues for me, I have the added benefit of three aunts, and my mom to learn from. But did I? No, of course I didn’t. What human does, learn from others mistakes that is?

  While I’m pondering this my peace is disturbed as Wheels and Cody barge through the door of my apartment. Now this wouldn’t usual be an issue, and to be honest most days I love having them here, but today I look and feel a hot mess so their presence is less than appreciated.