The Devils Dawg Pound

by Annie Buff

  The Devil’s Dawg Pound

  By: Annie Buff

  Copyright ©2017 by Annie Buff, all rights reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  These are works of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Shannon Youngblood

  Editor: Chris Cain

  Dedications:

  Pretty Boy, like everything I have written was a labor of love and many people went along on his journey with me.

  Jeni Bailey Yeager, one of my amazing beta readers who pushed for more dialogue and makes me a better author because of it.

  My bestie Joan Marie, who is always there for me.

  Treena Ross, my partner in crime and my incredible PA, thank you for all you do for me.

  Chris Cain my editor, who makes each book a work of art.

  MJ, for all your support as I take this journey and ignore the world around me, thank you and I love you.

  Sara Cunningham, for falling in love with Pretty Boy and bugging the crap out of me until it was finished.

  To Renee, who is one of my closest friends and confidants, thank you for everything

  And finally, to my Mom, who has been my driving force and my constant support,

  I couldn’t do this without any of you.

  Contents:

  1: Prologue

  2: Poppy

  3: Here’s to Hope

  4: The Explanation

  5: Keeping Poppy

  6: Moving Forward

  7: Ghosts

  8: Red, Red Wine

  9: Up in Smoke

  10: The Hunters

  11: Mister Clean

  12: The Chase

  13: Magic Mountain

  14: Ready, Aim…

  15: Namesake

  16: Melted Snowman

  17: Homecoming

  Prologue:

  The first one is always the hardest, after that it’s pretty easy to cut up and get rid of a body. You’d think having to dismember it would be bloody as fuck, and it actually is. But with practice, it’s really not as bad as you’d imagine. The sound of the saw tearing through the flesh and bone is the hardest part, that’s when you really feel it. That bile just hovering in the back of your throat trying to decide which way it’s going to go.

  You know you can’t puke in front of the brothers so you swallow it down and suck it up. The taste of the stomach acid burns as it slides back down your esophagus and your eyes water but you ignore it and focus on the task at hand, a task I’ve gotten very good at over the years.

  My name is Pretty Boy McCoy, and I make people disappear; it’s what I do. I may be the security officer for the Dawg Pound MC, but I moonlight as a Merc.

  I was a Navy Seal, but that was a hundred years ago when I was young and impressionable. Before I realized what a shitty place this world is. Before I knew how good at killing I was. Now I don’t just take any contract. I’m selective, some people really don’t deserve to die but some deserve worse than death. That’s where I come in.

  I survived the worst torture imaginable as a child, and I have no problems returning the favor to those so deserving, the rapists, child molesters, and general scum. You see my old man thought I was his own personal torture doll. I’ve been cut, burned, sodomized and forced to suck dick for his sick friends. I’m not normal, but no one would be after that.

  I crave normalcy, at least when it comes to women. I’ve never had a normal relationship. I don’t think I can. I have no idea how, but dammit if I don’t want to learn. Especially after I met Poppy, I fell for her the minute I saw her at the clubhouse. She’s off limits, she’s dating a fellow Brother and that means she’s taken. She’s my friend though, she talks to me all the time but if she knew the monster that lies beneath the surface, she would run.

  Poppy smells like nothing I’ve ever experienced and I want her, I desire her in a way even I can’t understand. I wish I could explain it to you, I can’t. She’s so far under my skin it hurts. With every smile, I want her more and more. The day will come when I can’t stop myself from going to her, telling her everything. It’s coming, that’s a given. Telling her my secrets will either make or break any chance I have of being able to hold her.

  Sex for me has always been rough, and when I say rough I mean bloody rough. I can’t help it, and I know just how fucked up that is. My President has warned me that if he must come to my aid again he will put me down. And maybe he should, I killed a prostitute while fucking her. The more I choked her, the more aroused I became, and in the end, I killed her. I’ll spare you the bloody details, but a cleanup crew was required to make my mistake go away, so that should say it all.

  Big Red took me out back of the clubhouse and beat my ass to a bloody pulp. I’d love to say I didn’t deserve it but I did. What he did to me was kind compared to what he should have done.

  So back to Poppy, I haven’t seen her in weeks and it’s making me crazy. I know where she lives; I took her home once when he was too drunk to get her there safely. That pissed me off, not having to take her. No, that part was fucking bliss.

  She rode on my bike and had her arms tight around me. My dick was hard for days after that. Even the self-service I’d been doing didn’t relieve the problem. What pissed me off was my brother; having this incredible woman, could be so god damned careless when it came to her. I hate him with every fiber of my being, Michael, aka Snowman needs to die. I won’t do it, she would hate me. That would kill me.

  So here I sit on my bike watching her cooking in her kitchen. She can’t see me from where I parked, but I can see her. Beautiful silver blue eyes and light golden brown curls that bounce every time she moves. I text her and say ‘hi’, hoping she will answer me; and she does. I read it and get a funny feeling deep, it reads:

  ‘Hi, sorry I’ve been MIA lately. Me and Michael are done so I won’t be around the clubhouse.’

  This is my chance, this is my story. The story of Pretty Boy McCoy.

  Poppy

  Poppy Robinson hummed along with the radio as she was preparing dinner. It wasn’t anything special, chicken cacciatore and rice, her grandmother’s recipe and one of her favorite dinners. She had been spending dinner alone for the last month and a half, since Michael stopped calling and stopped returning her texts. They had been dating for months; she’d met him and his friends one night at the Gray Bar when she stopped in for a burger on her way home. There was an instant attraction between her and the big biker man.

  They had never made any formal commitment, they were adults and Poppy assumed it wasn’t needed. She stopped seeing anyone aside from him. He’d taken her to the clubhouse and she met all his Brothers, including the President who went by Big Red and Pretty Boy who was the security officer and quite funny. Big Red was slightly terrifying at close to six-foot eight and probably close to three hundred and fifty pounds, with fire engine red hair and a full beard.

  Pretty Boy was smaller, maybe around six-foot two and two hundred twenty-five pounds. And he was pretty, big green eyes and dark wavy hair. His smile was what struck her the most. He had gorgeous teeth and lips that looked so kissable. But he was Michael’s friend, so no matter what had transpired between Michael and her, Pretty Boy couldn’t be anything more than her friend.

  Poppy almost missed the text chime, she had been singing way too loud and seriously off key. She saw the name that cam
e across her screen, it read PB. She read his ‘hi’ and returned it with one of her own, explaining why she hadn’t been around. Pretty Boy was always so polite with her but Poppy knew he was a biker to the core and he was only polite around her. Poppy hit send and waited for his response.

  Pretty Boy was still watching her, he saw her smile when she looked down at her phone. That could be a good sign. He was trying to work up the courage to ask, but she was so damn perfect and he was a damn mess. The longer he sat, the harder the question was going to be so he just figured it was now or never:

  ‘If I asked you to dinner, what would you say?’

  Poppy stared at the text, not quite sure of how to answer that. She definitely wanted to go, but she had no idea the etiquette with dating him after she and Michael had split.

  ‘Is that breaking any biker rules?’ She texted back, ‘I don’t want to cause any problems, but yes I’d very much like to go out with you. Is Friday night after you have temple okay? I’m free then.’

  Pretty Boy saw the text and almost dropped his phone on the asphalt, she said yes and that was a response he never saw coming. What he thought was coming was something along the lines of: ‘You’re Michael’s friend and I can’t cross that line’ But she said yes and he was close to hyperventilating. This woman was the only reason he hadn’t disemboweled Snowman.

  He knew a discussion with Red was inevitable, Pretty Boy needed permission from the President before he took her anywhere. It wasn’t standard protocol to need it, but Red had made it clear he wanted to know anyone Pretty Boy was interested in. He didn’t fault him after the disaster with the prostitute even though it had been well over a year. Pretty Boy wanted Poppy in the worst way, hoping deep down he wouldn’t ever be able to hurt her but he just wasn’t sure.

  Here’s To Hope

  Friday night church lasted a couple hours, which was normal. Poppy was meeting him at the Grey Bar, so the talk had to happen with his President now; in order to be on time.

  “Red you got a minute?” he asked after the brothers had filed out of the temple room. Red gave him a nod, motioning him to sit. Pretty Boy knew this was going be shit, either way he was meeting her tonight. He had to be in her presence, to smell her hair and maybe hold her for at least a minute.

  “I got a date tonight, you said if I was gonna be with a woman I had to tell you. It’s just a burger at the bar, nothing more but I promised I’d be straight so that’s it.” He watched Red, waiting for a response. Pretty Boy hoped like hell this wasn’t going to be a fight. Poppy was all he’d wanted for months.

  “Okay, you want a shadow or can you behave?” Red asked him seriously.

  Behaving was the only thing Pretty Boy could think about, if he got out of line at all she would never speak to him again. It would destroy any humanity he had left if Poppy wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He knew he would go off the deep end.

  “I’m good Prez, I won’t hurt her. That I can promise, I’ve wanted her too long.” Pretty Boy really didn’t mean to be quite that forthcoming, he just said what he was thinking and Red knew immediately who the girl was.

  That’s when Red grabbed him, dragging Pretty Boy through the back door and throwing one big right hook. It connected with his jaw and split his lip. “That’s just a reminder, she’s not a whore and you don’t treat her like one! Snowman fucked that one up, don’t do that to her too.

  “She’s a good girl Darius, and deserves someone equally good. I know what’s inside you. So do you man. You need to be better than that, better than Snowman. Trust me, if you want any kind of decent relationship with this girl you’re gonna have to fix all that shit you carry inside.”

  He knew all of this, it was the doing part that was so hard. There were so many things he’d buried, locked away but the nightmares still came. He still saw the faces from his kills, from his father and the men his father had loaned him to for their sick pleasures. Red had called him by his given name and that meant he did really matter to the President. That felt kind of nice. The MC was all he had, and maybe Poppy if he got lucky.

  Poppy sat at a high-top table by the pool tables waiting for Pretty Boy and stirring her drink. She ordered vodka on the rocks with a lime and orange slice and a splash of soda. Not knowing what he drank aside from beer she decided to wait on ordering him anything.

  They had all been here on numerous occasions and the one thing that always stuck out was how Pretty Boy never looked at the women who were obviously drooling over him. He walked with his shoulders squared and head high but the eyes were always straight ahead. It made her wonder more than once if he was gay or just shy around the ladies.

  Poppy noticed she was the only female he would talk to, and even then, he would give her these shy smiles. There was definitely more to him than he let people see. She wondered what could cause such a funny, good looking man to withdraw into himself so much and asking was more than likely not a good idea at this point.

  She was just about to pay her tab and go. Thinking she had been stood up when he hurried in and shot directly over to her table.

  “I’m sorry! Red kept me later than I thought. You mad?” He asked her hoping he wasn’t too late.

  When she smiled, he knew things were okay and he hadn’t just ruined everything. After they ordered food and drinks the conversation started, Poppy initiated it. She wanted to ask about the split lip, but figured that was a conversation for later.

  “What’s your real name? I’d like to have something to call you aside from Pretty Boy.” No one had ever bothered to ask him that before. Red knew from bailing him out of jail, but not one of the brothers knew or had even ever asked.

  “Darius is my name, Darius Ryker Monaghan. My Ma thought I’d be something special, turns out she was wrong.”

  Poppy thought his Mother had been right. Something was hiding under the surface, something really important that he kept well hidden. Whatever it was wasn’t going to show itself tonight, but she could see turmoil in his eyes.

  “It’s a nice name, I’m Penelope Ann Robinson and my Mother left me with my Grandmother when I was a week old for babysitting, she never came back. Anyway, thanks for the invite out. It’s nice to get to talk to you without all the brothers around.” She was right; his club mates were a pain in the ass when one of them had a woman.

  “Penelope is beautiful, I would a never thought you were anything but Poppy. I really like that name.” The names seemed to break the ice and then they became so lost in conversation neither one saw Snowman walk in until he was standing in front of them. Snowman cocked his head, raising a brow and eyeballing the door.

  The challenge had been issued and Pretty Boy knew he couldn’t back down. Not in front of her, that wasn’t about to happen. He left his phone on the table.

  “Text Red please, tell him what’s going on so he doesn’t decide tonight is my night to die.”

  “What the hell does that mean Darius? Christ!” But she did exactly as he asked her to do. Red answered immediately and told her not to get in the middle, he was on his way. She still had no idea why the mention of dying tonight had come up but Poppy was damn sure going to make someone tell her what that meant.

  Pretty Boy stood just feet from Snowman, waiting for the first swing to come. He wasn’t going to be the one who started this. Being on Red’s shit list already, it would be a death sentence if he swung first. For the first time in years he actually wanted to live.

  “Scraping, aren’t ya Pretty Boy? Who said I was done with her!” He heard the faint click of a knife opening; just shaking his head he knew Snowman wasn’t trustworthy. It had been mentioned to Red more than once.

  “You have no idea who I really am and just what I’m capable of,” Darius warned. “Poppy made this decision all on her own. I asked and she said yes. She did say you got a small dick too.”

  That’s when the swipe of the knife came, just grazing his gut. It wasn’t enough to do much damage, just make him bleed and piss Pretty Boy off. This was his
favorite t-shirt and it was now done for.

  “Red should have put you out of our misery a long time ago Pretty Boy. No woman will ever want your fucked-up self. Poppy should be there for when I need my dick sucked, not anywhere near your bed.” That’s when the next swipe came, he let it connect. The gash in his upper arm would need sewn up, but it was worth not making Red mad.

  Poppy ran out to see Snowman with a bloody knife and Pretty Boy bleeding from his arm and abdomen. What struck her first was that he was still smiling and talking all kinds of shit. She knew she was about to interfere in something she didn’t understand; but she couldn’t allow this fight over her.

  “Michael stop! What the hell is wrong with you!” She scolded Snowman.

  He turned to her with a sadistic grin. That was a look she had never seen on his face before. “Ain’t nothing wrong with me. You see Poppy, that tight, sweet pussy is mine when I want it! You understand that? You belong to me when I want you, this piece of shit isn’t touching you.”

  That’s when she got mad, nobody was going to talk to her that way. Poppy knew if she didn’t take his focus away from the fight one of them was about to die and for whatever reason, she knew it was going to be Michael.

  “You’re too late Michael, you fucked this up. Pretty Boy is more man than you could ever be, and yes, I know who he is underneath. You see we have talked for months as friends, then after you quit calling, he was there for me. We sat on my porch for hours and he let me in, so don’t try that shit! I know and I don’t care!” Poppy had no idea about his past but it was working well enough to distract Michael. Thankfully Red rode up just then.

  “Snowman!” Red yelled, getting his attention and giving him a look that said he was in some serious trouble. “Clubhouse, now!”

  Red could see he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and did what he was told. By this time there was quite the crowd at the door watching the scene unfold in front of them. Pretty Boy had pulled off his shirt and was trying to stop the bleeding on his stomach and arm. Poppy had noticed the crisscrossing scars on his back but stayed put not knowing what she should do. As Michael walked passed her he shot her a look.