The Devil's Due

by Vivian Lux

  by Vivian Lux

  Copyright 2014

  Velvetfire Press

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book contains adult themes, explicit language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature audiences.

  I love to hear from my readers. Email me at velvetfirepress@gmail.com

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  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  PROLOGUE

  Flint Springs is a hot, dusty, desperate little town, no bigger than a wide spot in the road. The one stoplight shuts off at night, its services unneeded. The springs after which my town was named have long since dried up, sucked up in a futile attempt by farmers to eke a living from the dry earth that surrounds us.

  They’ve all left now, heading for greener pastures and easier lives. Flint Springs now only holds those of us who can’t get out: the poor; the simple; the eternally trapped.

  About the only people who do get to leave Flint Springs these days are those who don’t live here in the first place. Once a year, our town is flooded with outsiders, with new life and new blood. I live for the once-yearly meet-up of the Devil’s Due motorcycle club.

  Every year since I was very small, I would run out of my stepfather’s trailer to watch them roar up the lonely highway. A billowing dust cloud always preceded their convoy, but the howling of their bikes was what I wanted to hear. The rumbling engines pierced the suffocating silence of Flint Springs and gave me hope that something new and interesting might finally happen.

  When the outlaw motorcycle club rolled in, the townspeople locked their doors for the first time since the last time they were here. The younger version of me would watch from the dirty windows of the trailer, thrilling at the noise, the incessant roar of the engines. Sometimes fights would break out, and I would see strong, burly men grappling with one another in the middle of the street. It was a sight that never failed to excite me, though I was never sure why.

  Now that I’m old enough, I do know why. These men represent freedom. They get to leave. They get to head out onto the open road, into adventures beyond my wildest fantasies. So while the rest of the town hated when the Devils took over our town, I welcomed them. And this year, I planned on joining them.

  Chapter 1

  I first heard the roar of the engines in my dream. I moaned softly in my sleep as my reverie of the bikers drifted apart.

  It had been the usual delicious fantasy. My arms were wrapped around a strong torso and the wind ripped at my hair as we hurtled headlong into the sunset. I screamed aloud in joy, and my unseen biker hit the throttle. The bike surged forward with a throaty roar, issuing delectable vibrations through my body.

  The far-off rumbling wended its way into my unconscious and the fantasy drifted away. Instead, I dreamed of a coming tidal wave. When the wave was poised to crash over Flint Springs and drown us all, I woke up gasping.

  The roar continued upon my waking and I realized it was real. It was really happening today. Turning to the wall calendar, I grinned widely, then winced at the pain in my cheek.

  Darryl is usually more careful. People will see this.

  Usually my stepfather took great pains not to leave visible marks. But he had been drunk as a skunk last night, and his usual caution went out the window. I had absorbed his bad temper with more grace than usual, and my patient endurance had only served to enrage him further.

  He didn’t know it was going to be the last time he ever saw me.

  My room was tiny, not much bigger than the bed, and the huge calendar dominated the wall. The bright red X’s I’d scrawled upon it had counted down the days to today. And now the rumbling noises confirmed it: today was the day the Devil’s Due MC rolled into town.

  It was the day I had been waiting for since I had decided to leave Darryl’s tiny trailer and get the hell out of Flint Springs. And now that it was here, I had some work to do.

  I stood up from my childhood bed and stretched, then winced again. I was nineteen, a grown woman with a body that was long and lean—too long to be crammed into a bed so small.

  But Darryl wouldn’t let me get a larger one. “You’ll only use it for more whoring!” he had shouted at me when I dared broach the subject.

  Darryl was obsessed with the idea that I was sleeping with every man in Flint Springs. Only a few, I thought archly, stretching to release the kink in my back.

  I endured their clumsy embraces and fumbling fingers; anything to bring variety to my monotonous days. I seduced boys and men alike. Old or young, I didn’t care. I had inspected the ceilings of nearly every pickup in town.

  But today, I had much bigger plans for my talents.

  I padded barefoot over to my dresser and regarded myself in the mirror. The bruise on my cheekbone was an ugly, mottled purple ringed with sickening shades of green and puke-yellow. It looked horrible, and I needed to look my best.

  Sighing deeply, I swirled my finger in a tube of concealer and dabbed at it gingerly. But when I tried to blend it in, hot tears sprang to my eyes.

  Fucking asshole. He thinks he owns me.

  Against my will, the anger began to rise inside of me, a bitter hate that always accompanied thoughts of my stepdad.

  Darryl was useless. I could tell that from the moment my mother had married him nine years ago. When Mom found out he was beating me on a semi-regular basis, she took the easy way out and died of an aneurysm. From that moment on, I was Darryl’s property. He used me like a serving girl.

  At ten years old, I was preparing all the meals, scrubbing the shit-stains out of his underwear, and on my hands and knees every night with a mop and bucket, making futile attempts to keep the filth of the grimy trailer at bay. Darryl rewarded my efforts by beating me soundly whenever my results didn’t meet with his approval.

  Which was always.

  But that’s enough of that, Lainey. Get yourself together.

  I raised my chin and brushed the tears away. He was going to be a speck in my rearview mirror before today was over.

  Dabbing carefully, I applied dark black eyeliner, ringing my clear blue eyes and coating my light blonde lashes in a thick lacquer of mascara. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to blend the concealer into my foundation, carefully trying to cover up the smatterings of freckles across my nose.

  Some blush to contour my round cheeks and several layers of slick red lipstick completed my efforts on my face, and then I went to work on my hair. Teasing and backcombing brought out the volume in my fine, platinum blonde waves. I set it in a few hot rollers, and then blasted the who
le thing with hairspray.

  I blinked at the woman in the mirror. Then I smiled. She looked tough. And more importantly, she looked like the kind of woman that rode with the Devils. They were hard, tough, sexy women who would never take shit from white-trash stepdads.

  That was who I wanted to be, not the pathetic victim I was now: the girl with no money and no skills; the girl who had just barely graduated high school; the girl who spent her days minding her stepfather’s dusty, failing store and her nights getting groped in Chevys.

  The roar of the engines brought me out of my reverie. It was almost time.

  I opened my bottom drawer to dig out the outfit I had picked out for the occasion. I had to keep it hidden from Darryl’s watchful eye.

  I zipped up the tight leather bustier. The boning at the waist lifted my breasts high enough that I could forego wearing a bra. Bending over, I shimmed them even higher, making sure my deep cleavage was shown off to its upmost.

  Zipping up the matching black miniskirt, I stepped back from the mirror and regarded myself.

  I was no idiot. And I was no quivering virgin, either. Darryl had reason to accuse me of being a whore. I knew what women who rode with the Devils had to do. But I was ready to do whatever it took to ride out of here. And the first thing to do was make sure I looked the part.

  Standing in my bedroom doorway, I peeked around the corner into Darryl’s filthy room. The door was slightly ajar and I could see his hairy foot dangling off of his sagging bed. Good, he was hungover. I hoped the noise of the engines was hurting his head.

  In two steps I was out the front door. I turned to catch the screen door before it banged shut, the habit of years of caution.

  This was it. I held the door delicately in place and took a deep breath. Then I turned very deliberately and walked away. I did not allow myself to even look over my shoulder. I was moving forward now. Never again would I look back.

  No regrets.

  The roar of the engines grew louder as I stepped out along the road. I followed the noise, walking carefully in the only pair of high heels I owned.

  It was already baking hot outside, even in the early morning sun. The dry, dusty heat sapped all the moisture from my throat and I was instantly parched. The wind was whipping along the road, tearing at my carefully arranged hair. I swiped the strands out of my mouth, but they repeatedly got stuck in my perfectly applied lipstick.

  No, no, no! I have to look perfect! I screamed inwardly.

  Clenching my fists to try to hold myself together, I turned the corner down by Jim’s Automotive and located the source of the noise.

  Bikers were strewn across the parking lot of our town’s only bar. The Dusty Dog Saloon was swarming with burly men in their road leather. Though it was only eight in the morning, some were already roaring drunk, backslapping and guffawing loudly as they admired each other’s bikes.

  All conversation stopped when I stepped onto the lot.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. You’re an early riser!” one of them called out to me.

  “I’ve got an early riser for you right here,” shouted another, grabbing his crotch and thrusting it in my direction.

  I swallowed and smiled sweetly, not wanting to make any enemies, and then ducked my head as I pushed my way through the heavy wooden door of the saloon entrance. I blinked in the sudden dimness.

  The air was smoky and heavy with the smells of leather and sweat. I sniffed once in distaste. Then I inhaled a giant gulp, tasting the scent of freedom on my tongue.

  The smell stirred something in me. It was the smell of men.

  I was surprised to find how deeply it turned me on.

  When my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that everyone was staring at me. More than staring at me—these men were devouring me with their eyes. I shivered in spite of the warmth of the bar, suddenly feeling very exposed. I was at least ten years younger than the next youngest woman I could see. And there weren’t more than three women in the room.

  But the men were everywhere; old grizzled men and young callow men; tall, hulking men and short, menacing men. They were all staring at me; at my high, exposed breasts; my flat stomach; my windblown blonde hair and the freckles I knew no amount of foundation could truly hide.

  I felt like I was wearing a costume and they could see right through it.

  Haltingly, I stepped into the room and up to the bar. Their stares gradually dissipated and the bikers turned back to their drinks, ignoring me completely. Conversation resumed and the din rose again to deafening levels.

  Peering through the gloom, I watched the knots of men form and reform as the different chapters of the Devil’s Due met up after a year of separation. I saw a lot of laughing and ribbing, but a lot of hushed and hunched conversation, too. There was a seriousness in the air that unnerved me. I didn’t like thinking that these men had worries too.

  The knot of bikers in the far corner looked the most serious. I shifted myself closer to their low conversation, straining my ears to hear what was on a biker’s mind.

  “...come back... gone to shit, man... not the same since you left...”

  The three men were speaking earnestly to a fourth man shrouded in shadows. They all spoke vehemently, but also with deference.

  “...glad you’re back... .need you.”

  When I strained my head to see the man in the shadows, I caught a glimpse of flashing blue eyes that froze me to the spot. He had spied me spying on him.

  My heart hammered in my throat as I turned away, feigning nonchalance. But the piercing blue of those eyes lingered in my head, refusing to be ignored.

  I turned back in spite of myself and caught him staring right back at me. He leaned forward in the booth, crossing his massive forearms on the table and treating me to a glimpse of his bulging biceps. I snuck one more helpless peek at the blue and was shocked to see something close to amusement dancing there.

  I wrenched my gaze away again and leaned into the bar, wondering if a drink of water would help calm my nerves. The bartender looked harassed and ignored me, kept busy as he was with the constant pouring of whiskey.

  But it felt good to grab onto something for support. The heels were starting to dig into my toes and I lifted one leg, then the other, trying to ease some of the pressure in my feet.

  I gripped the bar and steadied myself, trying to figure out my next move. I needed to find the president of the chapter, that much I knew. My friend Cora had told me stories; rumors about what went on in club meetings. I knew the word of the president was law.

  Looking around, I wondered which one he could be.

  I felt eyes on me and turned.

  He hadn’t stopped staring. I watched him unfurl himself from the cramped corner booth and draw himself up to his full height. I could see his blue eyes better now, piercing blue, darker than my own. They were a deep, unfathomable sapphire, and now instead of amused, they looked angry.

  I shrank from him even as I took in his immense physique. He was younger than most of the other bikers, and below those angry, snapping eyes, I saw lips that looked soft despite being lost in several days’ growth of beard. His blond hair was long, caught back in a strip of raw leather.

  When my eyes traveled down, I gasped. His thickly-muscled chest was naked under a leather vest that was studded with patches. My eyes lit on one I recognized from Cora’s stories.

  1%.

  I shivered. I knew what that meant. The Devil’s Due was an outlaw club. They say that 99% of motorcycle clubs are law-abiding, with no reason for outsiders to fear them. The Devil’s Due was part of the 1% you did need to fear.

  I wanted to read more of the patches, but his eyes were magnetic and forced me to return his gaze. What I saw in his glare made me swallow nervously.

  He doesn’t want me here, I realized. He’s trying to give me a warning.

  A rough hand on my shoulder jolted me.

  “You lost, little girl?” came the gruff voice behind me. It was definitely mocking me.r />
  “She ain’t so little in the chest,” another voice called out. “I bet she screams like a woman in bed.”

  Their leers made me blush, but I squared my shoulders. This was more what I’d expected. I was inviting their lust. It was my ticket out of here.

  I shot a look at the blue-eyed biker. I didn’t need his protection; I knew what I was doing here.

  I turned back to the gray-haired biker whose heavy hand still rested on my shoulder. He was wearing a battered cap and his breath smelled rank. I raised my voice to be heard above the din around us.

  “I want to ride with you,” I told him evenly.

  He grinned, showing a mouthful of blackened, broken teeth. A faint scar pulled down his mouth at the side, giving him the air of an evil jack-o-lantern.

  “We ain’t from around here, girl,” he snarled. “Go back home and sleep with your teddy.”

  “I know you’re not. I want you to take me with you.”

  He scoffed. “You don’t know where we’re going.”

  My fingers reached up and touched the bruise on my cheekbone. “I don’t care.”

  The grizzled old biker broke out into a wider grin and an evil gleam came to his eye. “Women who ride with the Devils have to win over the whole chapter, girlie. You think you have what it takes?”

  I lifted my hand and tugged at the zipper of my bustier, allowing him to get an eyeful of the deep valley of my cleavage. “I do,” I purred seductively. His eyes went to my breasts immediately and I relaxed. I knew how to handle a man.

  He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving my chest. “Gotta give the Devil his due,” he muttered darkly, hunger burning in his eyes.

  I smiled, certain that I had him where I wanted him. He snapped his eyes back up to my face.

  “The prez is out on a ride right now,” he said distractedly. “Come back tonight.”

  The words hit me like a blow to my stomach. Tonight? I couldn’t wait until tonight. I opened my mouth to protest, but then closed it with a snap when I saw his lip curl.

  “I’ll be back then,” I declared proudly and turned to leave.

  I wasn’t going back to the trailer, that was for sure. I was done with that place forever. Maybe I could go to Cora’s? No, she might blab my plans to someone. Maybe I would be able to hide in one of the falling down barns outside of town?