Boogeyman's Dream (Devils Rejects MC Book 2)

by Glenna Maynard

  Boogeyman’s Dream

  Copyright © 2018 Glenna Maynard

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Photo purchased from Romance Novel Covers

  Content

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Dear Reader

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Author’s Note

  About Glenna

  Available Now

  Preview of Beauty & The Biker

  Boogeyman’s Dream

  He’s her worst nightmare and she’s his dream come true.

  Shelly

  I thought being kidnapped was the worst that could happen.

  I was wrong.

  When the man who stole me away in the middle of the night decides to keep me for himself…I become his dirty little secret.

  A plaything starring in his every fantasy.

  Boogeyman

  The moment I laid eyes on Shelly, I knew she was a spoiled princess in need of a good spanking.

  I’m just the man for the job, but it isn’t that simple.

  I was supposed to kill her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  I’m going to make her mine but if my club finds out…it could mean the end for us both.

  Dedication

  To those who never stop believing in second chances. We are not all lost. Some of us are simply broken. Dented. Cracked. Bent. But worth saving. Worth taking a chance on.

  Acknowledgements

  To my readers, I am still amazed that ya’ll have embraced me and my stories. Thank you for believing in me. For letting my voice be heard—as dark, twisted, and crazy as it is at times.

  Michelle, my top bitch. My ride or die who tackles my awful typing and can read my mind. You are the best. Thank you for always pushing me to give my stories my all. You are truly one of a kind and I wish there were more people in this world as accepting and caring as you.

  Michelle Shelly thank you for lending me your name :)

  Frank, you rock. Thanks for the male perspective.

  Morgan, Nickie, and Dawn you guys always got my back I couldn’t do this author thing without you.

  To my Judgmental peeps, you ladies keep me sane.

  Brett, through thick and thin you are my number one. My drive. My passion. My eternal muse. My fictional men wouldn’t exist without you inspiring me. I love you most.

  Dear Reader,

  Boogeyman’s Dream is a dark read. Some things could be hard to read, but Charlie and Shelly had a story to tell on their terms. I’m not sorry for the ride you are about to take with them.

  Happy reading,

  Glenna

  Preface

  I know if I told anyone our story they wouldn't understand. How could they? We have a mad crazy stupid fucking love but it’s ours. —Shelly

  Chapter One

  —Shelly—

  We’ve been locked in this room for hours. No one has come for us and no one will. As far as our families know we simply vanished in the middle of the night. I don’t know how many hours have passed since the Devils Rejects locked us up after a brief taste of freedom. The last time I laid down in my bed and shut my eyes, I had no idea that within the night a dirty outlaw biker was coming for me and my housemates.

  I was an average college student, living it up, going to parties, and spending her dad’s money.

  Now I’m a captive facing certain death.

  “They’re going to kill us!” Cassia cries as if I don’t already know our fate.

  “Don’t say that,” Belinda whispers, hugging her knees to her chest while rocking back and forth on the cement floor. The room is dark and empty. The only light we are provided comes from a small square window in the door. It is up to high for me to try and look through and the others are too chicken to try. If we need to relieve our bladders there is literally a hole in one corner of the room to squat over and forget anything to wipe with.

  I don’t say anything in response.

  What can I do?

  What can I say?

  Nothing I tell either of them will help our situation.

  I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to my parents on the phone. My dad is always busy at the hospital, working as a neurosurgeon, and my mother is too busy spending his money to worry about me. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I didn’t run away from home or anything like that. My parents were just never present once I could care for myself. My dad loads money into my account once a month and sends a weekly text message to say I love you. I can’t remember the last time I heard him speak those three little words aloud.

  Most girls growing up are daddy’s girls, but not me.

  The door opens and a man wearing a Halloween demon mask grabs Cassia. The mask is green with horns poking out of the top. I know the scary face is meant to frighten us but in a twisted sense I find him wearing it comical. The metal door clinks shut once more as Belinda begins to wail. “Please, let me out. I just want to go home.”

  I wish she’d shut up.

  The only thing she has accomplished is giving me a headache.

  The sound of a gun firing silences her but only momentarily.

  “Oh! God! They’ve killed her and we’re next.”

  “Better her than us,” I mutter.

  She crawls over to me and claws at my arm. “Aren’t you scared?”

  “Of what? Dying?”

  “Yes! How can you be so calm?”

  “I’m terrified, no different than you are. I just refuse to let them see my fear. I won’t allow them to break me.”

  The moment I utter the words the masked man returns and grabs Belinda by her hair as she cries, kicks, and scratches.

  Part of me wants to take this opportunity to try to run past them and out the door to freedom, but I’m sure he isn’t working alone. I’d never make it far.

  The door slams shut once more, and I am only thankful that they haven’t made me witness my friends’ deaths.

  Gunfire pops off and I shudder knowing he will return for me soon.

  One lonely tear threatens to trickle down my cheek, but I battle against the urge to cry and shut that emotion down as quickly as the feeling swept through me.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  I repeat the exercise, hoping to keep it together. I don’t want him to see me fall apart. I don’t want him to think he can break me.

  Creak.

  The door to my temporary prison opens and the man with the mask holds up his right hand motioning his finger for me to come to him. I know he means to kill me and I mean to let him. The
re is no changing the fate I have been delivered to. I am a fly caught in the spider’s web.

  I keep my face and posture stoic as I move up from my position in the floor.

  Stepping forward, one foot in front of the other, I take his offered hand.

  His touch is warm…strong… and somewhat inviting.

  As soon as I leave the room he presses me into the wall and puts a blindfold over my face in an attempt to shield my eyes from the scene behind him. It’s too late though. I see my friends each with a hole in their forehead. Their eyes appear to be frozen in the quick flash I glimpse of their bodies.

  Grabbing my hands, he binds them together with an itchy rope. I rub my wrists together although I know I won’t be breaking free.

  Next thing I know my masked monster is jerking me forward and shoving me down to my knees.

  “Any last words?” His rough voice grits in my ear, sending shivers coursing down my spine. If I weren’t about to die, I would find his voice appealing, sexy even. The morbid thought runs through my mind shocking me.

  “You’re a coward.” I spit my words at him with pure venom. “You can’t even look me in the eyes when you pull the trigger. A real man wouldn’t need to hide his face…a real man—” my words are cut off by the warm barrel of the gun rubbing over my lips.

  I close my mouth, staying motionless as the killing instrument probes my mouth, smearing my saliva down my chin.

  The torturous game continues until the weapon is dipping between the valley of my breasts.

  I should be scared.

  I should be begging for my life to be spared but something about his actions feels…erotic, and my body betrays me as heat pools in my belly, spreading to my inner thighs.

  Before I can react a tongue slides across my bottom lip.

  “You fuckin’ taste like trouble. I should kill you right now but lucky for you…I crave what I should never touch,” his minty breath whispers against my mouth before he dives in for a full-blown kiss. This kiss isn’t just any kiss.

  This kiss screams possession as thoughts of him and wondering who he is rules my existence.

  His tongue demanding entrance into my mouth should disgust me, but my body eagerly responds to the touch and taste of him invading and overpowering my control.

  A moan of pure pleasure erupts from my throat and I feel absolute shame, but I can’t stop myself from returning his kiss.

  His tongue sweeps through my mouth dominating all my senses, owning every ounce of willpower I have.

  This jerk is contemplating killing me, but not only that he fucking killed two of my friends. He kidnapped me! What’s wrong with me? Why does a part of me wish he’d kiss me again?

  I am attracted to a psychopath.

  The blindfold is removed, and I am face to face with the bastard I flashed my boobs at. He is down on his knees on my level.

  His grey eyes darken as they burn into mine.

  There are too many emotions hidden within their smoky depths to read him.

  I know he is toying with me. The problem is a sick part of me enjoys it.

  “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already,” I taunt.

  The corners of his mouth curve upward into a delicious smirk. “No, don’t think I will. You got fire, princess. I like that shit.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Damn straight you’re lucky. I don’t give second chances. Never.”

  “Then why now? Why me?”

  “Because…” He tucks the gun in the back waistband of his jeans. His hands move to the hem of my tank top, then travel underneath the pink cotton, moving up my torso until he reaches my breasts. Pinching each of my nipples he says, hoarsely, “It’d be a crying shame to let tits like these go to waste.”

  If my hands weren’t bound I would smack him.

  I try like hell to ignore the zing that travels straight to my pussy.

  “If you…” my eyes focus on the scene behind him…my roommates—sorority sisters’ dead eyes stare at me, judging me.

  Bile creeps up in my throat and I can feel my skin turning green as the shock of my predicament hits me.

  “Don’t puke on me, sugar tits. Don’t need something else to clean up.” I begin to sway on my knees as my reality finally comes crashing down. I’m at the mercy of a monster. Before my eyes roll back in my head I read the name sewn onto his leather vest…I’m in the clutches of Boogeyman.

  A name that represents things that go bump in the night.

  The monster waiting in the shadows to terrorize you as you sleep.

  Rapidly blinking my eyes, I fight the weight that is threatening to suck me under before my caramel orbs are rolling back in my head and the darkness takes over.

  Chapter Two

  —Boogeyman—

  “Prospect,” I growl. “Load her in your car. You breathe a word and I will make damn sure you never earn your cut and I will fuck your girl while you watch.”

  “Understood.”

  “Meet me at my trailer. I gotta go kick out my tenants. If she wakes up. Shoot her up with this.” I hand him a syringe filled with a cocktail sure to take her to dream land for hours or days. I can’t really remember what the fuck Terror said it was. I shrug and start up my bike ready to blow this shithole before one of my brothers figures out there is only two bodies in that grave.

  Thirty minutes later, I roll up to my trailer and rev my engine. I’ve been meaning to kick the sorry fucks out that I have been renting it to for some time. The nasty bastards are two months behind on their rent. I was waiting to make them do shit work that I normally put on a prospect, but I need them gone. Now.

  I never had a personal need for the trailer aside from the extra income until tonight.

  Putting down my kickstand, I get off my ride and stomp up the porch steps. When I raise my fist to knock the door swings open. John Tuddy stands before me in his underwear with his beer gut protruding out so far, he looks pregnant with triplets. Fucking fat smelly bastard.

  Pulling out my piece I aim it between his eyes. “Times up, motherfucker. You didn’t pay. I want you gone.”

  The piece of shit is so damn drunk he stumbles backward and flips over a fucking chair, breaking it as he goes. I ought to shove one of the wooden legs up his ass for the mess he has made of the damn place. Looks like the zombie apocalypse been going down around here.

  “I said get gone fat bastard.” I kick him in his gut and he farts. Goddamn, the foulest smell floats up from his ass and nearly takes my damn breath away.

  I fire a warning shot into the air and he scrambles to his chubby feet. Sweat beads across his brow from the small amount of exertion.

  “Pathetic, John.”

  As he moves past me to go out the door he farts again, and I pull the trigger, nailing him right in the ass. He goes tumbling down the cement steps howling in pain.

  Prospect pulls up with my cargo. Right on time. He can take the smelly fat bastard with him.

  ———

  I’m the Boogeyman. I don’t do deep feelings or get caught up in bitches, and yet here I am, staring at this stuck up chick in hot pink sweatpants that say sassy across the ass, contemplating what her future would be like if I didn’t butt fuck it all the way to hell the minute I kidnapped her.

  I should have put a hole in her head, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She has spunk. The feisty bitch turns me on and confuses the fuck outta me. I was set to do it—end her life, but then she opened that smart mouth and what I expected her response to be wasn’t what I heard. I thought she’d be like every other insufferable bitch and cry and plead, “Please don’t kill me.”

  She didn’t though.

  Shelly called me a coward for wearing a mask and blindfolding her.

  Fuck me if she wasn’t right. I couldn’t look her in the eyes and pull the trigger. I’m attracted to her sure, but there’s a fire in her eyes and I didn’t want to watch it fizzle as I snuffed it out. I couldn’t do it. For the first time in my adult life s
he’s made me feel something other than a desire to fuck or kill.

  I needed to kiss her. I had to have one little taste and I knew the moment my tongue slid across those soft lips one taste would never be enough.

  Hades may kill me for it, but I don’t care.

  I want her.

  Maybe I could want more than being the Boogeyman.

  Chapter Three

  —Shelly—

  Coming to, I go to rub my eyes but can’t. Panic seizes me as I gasp for air, feeling like I can’t breathe. Fluttering my eyes open I can’t see. My eyelashes rub against fabric and I remember I’ve been taken.

  Slow deep breaths.

  Ten of them calm me.

  Moving my head side to side I realize I must be on a couch or bed. I recognize the softness of a pillow beneath my head.

  “Hello,” I croak.

  I hear movement and the scraping of a chair scooting on the floor.

  “You’re awake,” Boogeyman’s gruff voice grits in my ear. The heat of his breath sends goosebumps down my arms. “You cold?” His thick fingers rub down my arm.

  “Wi—” my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. “Will you remove the blindfold, Boogeyman?” I manage to get out.

  A low grunt is his response, but I let out an inner sigh of relief when his large hand cradles the back of my head and lifts it.

  The fabric falls away and I blink a few times as black dots float in my vision. The light in the room is dim and my eyes easily adjust.

  “Thirsty?” He questions, helping me shift into a sitting position on the couch I am on.

  I want to tell him no, that I don’t want a damn thing from him, but my throat is dry and the water bottle in his hand is too appealing. I bob my head up and down and he twists the cap off breaking the seal.

  Hopefully this is a sign he doesn’t plan to drug me again. Not that I trust him in the slightest.

  Holding the bottle to my lips he tilts it upward with care.