Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)

by LeAnn Ashers

  With the knife and the fork, I begin cutting my food, my hands shaking as I do so.

  My heart fucking hurts to watch Alisha cut her food with shaky hands. I don’t know the last time she’s had a decent meal, but I can tell it’s been a while.

  She spears a piece of steak and pops it into her mouth, her eyes immediately closing. Her bottom lip trembles. Fuck, I can’t handle this shit. I turn away, giving her the privacy she deserves.

  I start in on my own plate, but I can’t resist glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She slowly eats her food, savoring every single bite. I finish my food and set the empty plate on the coffee table.

  After reaching for the remote, I turn the TV on. I hear the crack of the soda can opening and openly look at her. She takes a sip and her eyes roll back in her head. My dick hardens at the sight.

  “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she groans.

  I shift on the couch, the crotch of my pants tightening. She leans forward and attempts to set her plate on the coffee table, but I take it from her. She sets her drink on the small table beside her and then snuggles deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket up under her neck.

  “What do you want to watch, sweetheart?” I ask her and move closer to her, handing her the remote.

  She blushes and takes it from me. She starts flipping through the commercials until she settles on some cop show. I arch an eyebrow. I didn’t expect that because I’m a biker and we are the exact opposite of a police officer. She blushes again and looks at the floor.

  “I’m just teasing, angel. I actually love this show.”

  She laughs slightly under her breath and grins at me. Fuck, that smile. Her eyes light up, which makes her whole face light up. She lays her head on the edge of the couch and curls into a little ball, the blanket tucked under her neck.

  I pull the recliner part of the couch out and the legs pop up. I lie back and put my hands behind my neck. We settle in and watch TV. Halfway through the show, I notice that she’s sound asleep. After putting the recliner down, I take our plates and our soda cans to the kitchen.

  I come back in the room and stand in front of her. Her hair is covering her face, and I push the strands behind her hair.

  Leaning down, I gently scoop her up off the couch. Her small hand clutches my shirt and she burrows her head into my chest. When she takes a deep breath and sighs, “Jordan,” my body goes still as a board.

  I walk with her up the stairs and to my bedroom. Leaning over the bed, I gently set her down. When I start to pull away, the hand holding my shirt pulls me back toward her. Her eyes open she searches my face.

  “Will you hold me?” she asks.

  I can’t believe I just asked that! I’m so embarrassed. He carried me up the stairs and set me down so gently on the bed that I didn’t want him to leave me. I want him to keep holding me like he was.

  He nods and smiles at me cockily. I roll my eyes at him, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He goes to his walk-in closet and shuts the door behind him. I move over to the center of the bed slowly, the pain making me gasp.

  When Jordan comes out of the closet, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him shirtless. He’s wearing a pair of ball shorts. He has abs on top of abs and a tattoo sleeve on one arm. His hair is disheveled on top.

  He winks at me knowingly. I look away, blushing at having been caught ogling him. In my defense, Jordan is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. From the corners of my eyes, I watch as he walks closer and closer to the bed. Sliding in, he scoots closer to me until he is on his side, looking directly at me. His head is directly beside me, toward the crook of my neck. He moves his over my chest, wrapping it around my neck. His head moves closer to my neck, and I feel him inhale and exhale. Goose bumps break out across my arms.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He breathes.

  I shiver again. “Goodnight, Jordan.” I close my eyes and bask in his warmth.

  “Shhh, baby. It’s okay.”

  When I open my eyes, and my gaze connects with Jordan’s. His hand is touching my cheek.

  “What is it?” I ask breathlessly.

  “You were having a nightmare.”

  I close my eyes, thankful I don’t remember it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life haunted by memories of my childhood and the life I led up until a few days ago.

  My mind starts racing with thoughts. I wonder what happened to my dad. Is he still around? Will he try to come for me? Not able to help myself, I voice my fear to Jordan.

  “What if my father comes back for me?”

  Jordan’s expression turns angry before instantly softening. “Baby, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Those two words rock me to my core. I’m not upset—I’m far from it. I feel relief. This man starved me, deprived me, let men grope me, beat me, verbally abused me, and humiliated me. He has done nothing but be the cause of pain my whole life.

  I feel set free.

  I never have to see him again or look over my shoulder because I’m waiting for him to pop back up. My mom can live the life she wants to live.

  Wait. “Did you kill him?” I look Jordan dead in the eyes.

  He nods. “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?” I have to ask this. I place my hand on his neck, needing to touch him.

  “He hurt you. He hurt what’s mine.”

  Holy. Moly.

  Did he just say that?

  “I-I am yours?” I stutter out. In a clearer voice, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  Jordan grins at me cockily. “It means that I’m your man and you’re my woman. You will wear my patch so every fucker in the world knows you’re mine.”

  I jerk in shock and my mouth falls open. Excitement bubbles up in me, and I think, Am I sick in the head for wanting this man? The man who killed my father? But he did it because he’d hurt me.

  Just call me fucked up.

  I want this.

  “Okay,” I whisper to him.

  “Okay?” he repeats and strokes my cheekbone with his face.

  “Yes, okay.” I smile at him.

  He smiles back. He puts his arm at the crook of my neck and rests his hand on my hip. I close my eyes and fall back asleep. This time, I don’t have any nightmares.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Jordan, still half-asleep.

  He’s sitting up in bed and pulling at my T-shirt. Well, technically, it’s his.

  “Inspecting my shirt,” he says.

  I raise my head off my pillow and look at him, confused. “Huh?”

  He looks up at me and smirks. “Did you know my shirt is made of boyfriend material?” He lets his shirt go.

  I burst out laughing at his cheesiness. I hold my ribs because every laugh hurts, but I can’t stop laughing.

  “Oh my God, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard!” I say through my laughter.

  Jordan used to say cheesy stuff all the time when we FaceTimed.

  “Angel, are you cold? Do you want to use me as a blanket?”

  I throw my head back in laughter again as tears roll down my face. This man is too much. I settle down and look over at Jordan, who is grinning from ear to ear at me.

  “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

  I blush and hide my face in the blanket. Last night kind of changed everything. He told me that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I’m fine with that. More than fine, actually.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you fed.”

  I pull the blanket down and slowly move over to the edge of the bed, my body racked in pain. Jordan comes around the bed, reaches forward, and picks me up with ease.

  I lay my head on his chest and snuggle into him. It’s instinctual now. His scent is intoxicating, and I feel protected by his presence.

  He walks past the kitchen and straight into the living room. He tries to set me on the couch, but I grab his hand so he can’t pull
away. I pull him down to me and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m so thankful for him. If it weren’t for him, I could very well be dead. Or God knows what else could have happened.

  “Thank you, Jordan. For everything.”

  Jordan’s arm tightens on my back, and I feel his breath on my forehead. As I run my hand down his strong, muscular back, his lips touch my forehead and my eyes sink closed.

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

  I grin and shake my head at this man. He continues to shock me.

  He pulls away and stands in front of me. He grins that grin he sometimes does, and I know he’s about to say something cheesy.

  “Are you lost, ma’am? Heaven is a long way from here, angel.”

  Oh my God, this man. I can’t fight the grin. “Jordan, you’re too much.” I laugh slightly. Then I take the blanket off the back of the couch and place it on my lap.

  “I’m going to go make breakfast.” He leaves the room.

  I grab the remote resting beside me on the couch. When I turn the TV on, Cops is already on. I set the remote back down and settle in to watch TV.

  Guilt starts to nag at me because I feel like I should be helping him, but it hurts me to even get out of bed. I don’t want to take my pain pills unless it’s necessary because of my background. Both of my parents were messed up because of drugs and I don’t want to become an addict.

  Fifteen minutes pass before Jordan comes back into the room with two plates of food. Under his arms are a jug of milk and two cups. He sets one of the plates on the coffee table and then the drinks.

  “Here, angel.” He sets the plate onto my lap.

  My mouth waters at the sight of eggs, bacon, and sausage. I grab my fork and start digging in, moaning out loud at the taste. This is so good! I grab the piece of bacon and eat half of it in one bite. I don’t stop eating until my plate is completely empty. I set my plate on the coffee table, not even caring that the movement hurts me. I lie back and hold my stomach, stuffed.

  “I have to go to the club for a bit today to do some work. You okay being alone for two or three hours?” Jordan asks me.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll just cuddle up on the couch and watch Cops,” I reassure him.

  “Want to watch TV in bed so you will be close to the bathroom?”

  When I nod, Jordan walks over to me. He lifts me into his arms and carries me up the stairs. He gently sets me on his bed. He goes into his closet, grabs some clothes, and walks into the bathroom. I grab the TV remote and turn the TV on. I scroll through the channels until I find Cops again.

  Jordan is in the bathroom for at least thirty minutes. He comes out freshly showered and looking amazing in jeans that hug his thighs, but they aren’t those tight skinny jeans I hate. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and has his cut on top of that.

  He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead. “Be good.” He winks at me and walks out.

  I turn back to the TV, and then I hear a motorcycle start up and drive way. My bad boy. I grin to myself and watch TV. It might seem excessive to watch Cops so much, but I went so long without a TV. I want to binge-watch it now.

  I sure as hell didn’t want to drive away from her. I feel like I’m hovering over her, but I can’t seem to help it. Seeing her so fucking hurt eats at me every second of the day. I want to bring her father back and slowly kill him over and over again.

  I live about fifteen minutes away from the club. My job there is doing all the technology, which I do down in the basement. My mind stays on Alisha the whole ride there. I pull up in front of the gate and one of the prospects lets me in. The gate shuts as soon as my back wheels in. We have the bulletproof shit here for a reason.

  I park my bike next to my brother’s and climb off. When I walk inside the clubhouse, Vin, Trey, and Butch are sitting at a table, shooting the shit. I walk over to them and sit in the free seat. They all look at me as I sit.

  “How is she?” Trey asks.

  “She’s good, man. She hurts when she moves, but she is looking better,” I tell him.

  Butch is staring around the room, glaring at anything and everyone. He’s a good fucking man, but he’s crazy if you cross him. Trey is looking at some prospects behind us who are laughing. Vin is staring at Trey. Sometimes, I think they are into each other—not that it would matter either way.

  “She yours?”

  I look at Butch, surprised he even said anything. “Fuck yeah, she’s mine. My cut is going on her as soon as she’s better,” I say bluntly and grin at the crazy fucker.

  He nods.

  “Hey, man. Where you been?”

  I turn toward whoever is yelling. It’s one of the men who hangs around and has been wanting a chance to join the club, but it won’t ever happen. He’s a wannabe.

  “That pussy must have been fucking good to keep you occupied for days. So, when you going to bring her around so I can have a go?” He busts out laughing and grabs his crotch.

  I see red.

  “Dead man,” Butch says loudly.

  “Fuck, man. Run!” a prospect yells.

  I’m out of my chair within two seconds and in the face of the man who dared to insult my woman. I grab him by his throat, squeezing with all my might. His face immediately turns purple. I drag him across the room and into one of the empty interrogation rooms. I let him go and reach above my head for the chains. I put them around his wrists and lift the chains so he is hanging by his arms.

  “What did I do?” the guy yells. Then he starts pleading when he sees the expression on my face.

  “You insulted my woman,” I snarl and cock my fist before punching him hard in the face.

  His face snaps back and a tooth hits the floor. It will be one of many. I punch him again and again until there are thirteen teeth on the floor. One for every word he said that I didn’t fucking like.

  I let his arms down, and he hits the floor.

  “Now, walk your ass out of here and never fucking come back.” I kick his foot.

  He scrambles to his feet and then walks out of the room. I follow behind him.

  Butch is standing outside the door, and as I pass him, he says, “Not dead?”

  I have a bit more self-control than Butch. Barely. Now, if that had been Butch’s woman, he would be six feet under. I want to fucking kill him, but I don’t feel like burning his ass in acid today.

  The man all but runs out the door, and I go back to my seat. A prospect presses a beer into my hand, and I take a long pull from it. Vin and Trey come back and sit beside me.

  “Stupid fucker,” Vinny snarls and then takes a drink of his beer.

  Not very many people become members here—it’s a one-in-ten kind of deal—and that guy just ruined his chance for good.

  This club is fucking rich, and people swoop in trying to get in with us so they can get rich. It doesn’t work like that. We give them a year on a trial basis, and if they do make it through, then we send them through a six-month training run by some badass SEALs.

  The only person who hasn’t gone through training is Liam. He got his prospect patch at eighteen when he saved the VP’s daughter and became a prospect. He’s in the Navy and currently going through Hell Week to became a SEAL. I feel for that fucker. Hell Week is hell for a reason.

  Once he’s finished his time, he will come back as a full-patched member and go claim his woman. He has a thing for Torch’s daughter, and the only people who don’t know that are Torch and Paisley, Torch’s daughter. She has a major thing for him too.

  He saved her from a janitor who was in a fucking gang, and that isn’t easily forgotten or overlooked. He saved a fucking princess—the only princess around here for many years until Chrystal and Kyle had a baby.

  “I’m going home to my woman.” I stand up and leave my almost-full beer on the table. I walk out of the clubhouse and climb onto my bike.

  The prospect opens the gate and I see a bike turned on its side, a knife stuck in one of the tires.

  I look at the tire and
then at the prospect.

  He grins. “He told me what he did.”

  I smirk and start my bike. I already like that fucker. I back up, ride up to him, and pat him on the shoulder, and he slams the gate shut.

  I see the fucker from in the clubhouse whose teeth I knocked out running down the road, and I ride up next to him. I kick him. He rolls down the hill, and I laugh.

  In town, I notice a woman’s clothing store. Alisha doesn’t have any clothes or anything to call her own. After pulling up in front of the store, I turn my bike off and climb off. I walk into the store and go straight to one of the workers.

  She looks up and smiles. “How can I help you?”

  “I want to get some clothes for my woman. Hell, she needs a whole wardrobe,” I tell her.

  Her eyes light up. “Well, I will be happy to help you! We offer in-home services, and I am a stylist, so I can help her.”

  Fuck, that would be great. I want Alisha to have everything and anything she could ever want. “When can you come measure her?”

  “I can come by at four o’clock today, and I can have a wardrobe delivered by tomorrow evening. We have other chains as well, so we can have stuff brought to the store as needed, like underwear.”

  I nod. “Perfect.”

  She claps her hands excitedly. “We need to go over some details, like the limit you want to spend, and I’ll need your address and phone number.” She takes a piece of paper out and sets it on the counter in front of me.

  I circle “no limit” on the paper and fill out all the necessary information.

  She picks up the paper and checks it out. Her eyes widen, and she looks up at me. “She’s a lucky woman.”

  I smile and reach into my pocket to pull my black card out. She scans my card and sets my account up so she can make the necessary charges.

  “See you later!” she calls.

  I wave as I walk out of the store. Then it occurs to me: Alisha literally has nothing. She doesn’t have any personal items, either. She’s at my house and isn’t leaving, so I need to get her some shit. I climb onto my bike and head to Target.