by Lowe, Aden
Hell Raiders MC
Romance Series
Book 3
Aden Lowe
©2015 by Aden Lowe. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or series may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Aden Lowe or his legal representative.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Author's Note: This book contains adult situations and language, violence, and sexual activity. Mature readers only.
Acknowledgments
So many people made this book possible and deserve recognition.
Ashley Wheels, I'd be lost without you. When God made you, He threw away the molds for Assistants, Co-Authors, Baby Sisters, Cover Artists, and every other title you might decide to take up in the future. Love you, Rotten Girl.
Elyse, you know.
Shauna Kruse, you did an amazing job with the cover shoot. It was eerie to see my vision brought to life. Thank you.
Matthew Hosea, I still don't want to see any more pics of you, but you seriously rocked this cover. Thanks, man, and thank you for your service to our nation.
The ladies of the Lowe-Down Fan Group, you're all incredible and I appreciate each and every moment you spend reading, reviewing, and promoting my books.
All the Bloggers out there who take their time to read and review and promote, thank you. Your work means the world to Indie Authors the world over.
And the Readers. This is all about you. Without you, none of us would have a reason to do the work we love. Thank you.
Cover Designer: Ashley Wheels
Cover photographer: Shauna Kruse
Cover Model: Matthew Hosea
Part One: Two Years Ago
Chapter One
Trip shut his bike off at the pump while his fellow Hell Raider, Stella, did the same right behind him. The little station suited their needs perfectly. Minimal traffic meant a quick rest stop without causing a stir. Usually when they rolled into a small town, the locals looked at them like a legion of demons had come within their midst, so he preferred little out-of-the-way places with few people to shock.
He climbed off and stretched the road kinks out of his back, lifted a hand to signal his intentions to Stella, and headed inside to pay. "Fill ups on one and three."
The girl behind the register met his gaze full on, dark blue eyes twinkling with interest. "Yes, sir." She took his cash and rang it up.
Trip took a good long look with appreciation at the way her faded jeans hugged her tight ass. She caught him looking, and he winked and grinned.
"Pumps are on." She smiled. "Come back in for your change."
Well, hell. Figured. Little mom and pop place. The chick would no doubt call the local cops while he pumped his gas and have them waiting for him when he went for his change. Fuck that. They'd be in for a surprise. He had no active warrants, not even a criminal record, in the name on all his ID. Stella carried clean papers as well, so they had nothing to worry about. As long as no one decided to run their prints.
Of course, maybe she just wanted to take him to the back room and fuck him senseless. His dick paid attention to that thought, definitely interested in the prospect of a visit to that back room. Maybe he could spare a few minutes for that kind of break.
The pump kicked off and pulled him out of the fantasy he already had going on. He turned for a word with Stella. "Keep an eye out, brother. Chick inside held my change. And maybe a little something more."
Stella nodded with his usual lack of words, and hung his pump nozzle.
Inside, Trip added two bottles of soda to his purchase. "Pack of Marlboro Reds, too." Nothing looked out of place, except the lack of other customers. "Kinda slow day, huh?" Bullshit detector on full alert, he paid close attention for any sign of hostility and forced himself to ignore how the curve of her tits peeked over the top of her shirt.
The girl gave a derisive snort. "You're my fourth customer since my shift started. That means I've been slammed." She counted his change back. "Ya'll ain't from here, are you honey?"
"Nah, just passing through on the way to visit some relatives."
She came around the counter and indicated the door. "I'm heading out for a smoke break. Keep me company for a few minutes? This place is boring as hell." She gave a smile that said she'd be glad for him to break the boredom.
Trip's brow went up, but he nodded. None of his alarms went off. The girl seemed sincerely bored, and maybe horny, and he wouldn't refuse even a slim chance to gain info on their destination. "You sure we won't scare off customers?" He slid a cigarette from the pack and offered her one.
She accepted with a smile. "What customers? Besides, compared to some of the guys around here, you're a fine upstanding citizen."
Trip barked a laugh. "Upstanding citizen, huh? Sweetheart, I doubt that."
She grinned. "Kid you not. We specialize in low-lifes around here."
"I heard that." The look he shot Stella, combined with rolling his shoulders, carried a clear message to stay alert. "Bet I could show you a few things the locals can't."
A slender brow arched up. "Oh, really? What kind of things would that be?" The challenge in her eyes showed bright and clear.
Trip glanced around. "Any security cameras going to show your boss how many times I make you come?"
She smiled and gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head.
"That's good." He leaned down tasted her neck, exposed by having her long brown hair up. "There a place where my buddy won't get to watch?" He moved a little closer.
She stepped in against him and pushed those pretty tits up to his chest. "I think we could find a place." Her cigarette fell into the sand-filled bucket that served as a butt can, then she caught his hand in hers and pulled him back inside the store.
A little break room of sorts sat at the back of the store, with only a curtain separating the card table, folding chairs and dorm fridge from the customer area. Trip leaned down to kiss her and filled his hands with her ass.
She kissed him back and wasted no time opening her jeans. Nothing like a woman who knew what she wanted. He gladly shoved her jeans and panties down and off for her while she unbuckled his belt. While she worked on his button and zipper, he dug the beat-up old snuff can out of his pocket and popped the top long enough to fish out a condom. The terror of a pregnant girlfriend taught him early on to always bring his own protection, and the round metal can was the perfect way to carry and not have to worry about it.
"Look at you, all prepared. You a Boy Scout?" She smiled and slid her hand down his hard-on.
"Honey, I'm a lot of things, but definitely not a Boy Scout." To prove it, he rolled the condom on crowded her against the wall. Hands full of her sweet ass again, he lifted her, pleased when she swung her legs up and around his waist.
With her shoulders against the wall, he leaned back enough to position himself, then lowered her onto his cock. She arched and her
tight body drew him in with a gasp. He claimed her mouth again and started to move.
She cried out, nails raking across his scalp and Trip broke the kiss to slip his hand between them and stroke her clit. Just like that, she clenched around him and he drove into her to find his own orgasm as she leaned against him to catch her breath.
"Damn, I need breaks like that on a regular basis." She smiled as she slipped away from his and started getting dressed.
Trip chuckled a little. "I hope no customers came in and got scared off."
Five minutes later, condom dealt with, clothes back in place, he stood in front of the store smoking with her again. "Not many bikers come through here, then?"
The tip of her cigarette glowed as she took a deep drag and shook her head. "Rare as hens' teeth. I think they put a sign at the county line warning if anything remotely exciting happens there'll be hell to pay."
He laughed, watching her carefully for signs of nervousness. After the last few minutes, he didn't expect her to set them up, but it wouldn't be the first time a chick got hers while in the middle of screwing a guy over. "Most small towns don't want drama."
"I wouldn't know. Never been anywhere else. And thanks, by the way, for getting me away from here, even if was only a few minutes." Sadness flashed over her features. "If I didn't have my kids, I'd probably try to stow away on the back of your bike just to get out of here."
Hard luck stories held no appeal for him, especially when he couldn't do anything to help. He didn't have time to waste patting the girl's shoulder and telling her it would be okay when clearly it wouldn't. "Lot of that going around everywhere." He stubbed his smoke out on the side of the building and pocketed the butt. No DNA left behind. The personal philosophy served him well. "I better get back on the road. We got a schedule to keep to."
"Stay safe, honey." She dropped her own cigarette and returned inside as he strode for his bike.
He flipped a signal to let Stella know nothing unusual happened, and climbed on. Moments later, they shook the dust of the sad little place. If he had a nickel for every bad life story he'd ever heard, Trip would be a very rich man. Too much of that kind of shit weighed heavy on a man, whether he got paid for it or not. With the black pit of despair threatening to swallow him whole, he learned to keep some distance and not listen. If that made him a prick, then so be it. At least he was a live prick.
Nightfall found them close to their destination, so Trip pushed on rather than stop for the night. The sooner they got this meet over, the better. From the moment he and Kellen pinned down the route for the job, he argued against this leg of it. Cutting through Saxons territory couldn't end well, even with a pass. The Saxons MC had a well-earned rep for bat-shit crazy running thick in the ranks. And fuck his luck, Trip was about to sit down with the man whose picture graced the dictionary as the definition for bat-shit crazy. Dread sat like a rock in his gut.
Despite the need screaming through his mind to lean on the throttle and shoot right on by, shortly before midnight, they rolled up to the gates of the Saxons MC compound. Trip forced air into his lungs and waited. No choice. The client had a deadline and every other possible route would cost serious money. Trip had to make it happen. So when the prospect at the gate waved them through, he swallowed his misgivings and rode inside the fence, glad to have Stella at his back.
He chose Stella to accompany him specifically for this stop. Out of all the Hell Raiders, the man stayed ice cold under fire and nothing got to him. With a name like Stella, it was a good thing. The mispronunciation of his last name led to the nickname, but he'd taken it all in stride, even when it stuck. He already knew how dangerous this would be, and Trip could count on him to have his eyes open. He was a cagey fucker, and he had Trip's back without question. No one would get anything over on them.
Trip took a deep breath and parked his bike not far from the entrance to the clubhouse. Under the guise of a good stretch after a long ride, he took a look around. The Google Earth images proved fairly accurate. The Saxons compound consisted of a big warehouse and several smaller structures to one side, and a large lot between them, all surrounded by chain link topped with barbed wire. A dozen or so bikes indicated a quiet night for the Saxons clubhouse, not unusual for a Tuesday in any club. Even outlaws tended to have day jobs and responsibilities.
The door opened as Trip hung his helmet on his handlebar and a Saxon came out. "You look like you could use a cold beer. Come on in." The friendly grin failed to reach the man's eyes.
Concealing a deep breath under one last stretch, Trip nodded as the dread in his gut grew. "You got that right. Long ride." Following the Saxon inside, he took note of the wary glares in his direction. Looked like maybe the Saxons Prez hadn't bothered to mention their visit to his table. Interesting.
"Bitch, get these men a beer." A Saxon with Vice President flash on the front of his cut motioned them to the bar where a petite blonde wearing a bikini top and barely-there shorts gave a careful smile.
Trip paid attention as she drew three beers from the tap and passed them over the bar. He welcomed the beer, partly because it gave him a chance to observe the Saxons. Where the hell was their Prez? Not sure exactly how to handle it, he started with introducing himself. "My name's Trip, from the Hell Raiders up in Kentucky. I was supposed to have a sit-down with Buffalo. He around?"
"They call me Freak." The Saxon VP gave his name but stopped short of giving more information. "He knows you're here. Said to make yourselves comfortable. He'll be in tomorrow afternoon."
The surly attitude grated on Trip's nerves. Not to mention the lack of respect from the Saxons Prez. "Well that's shitty, since he knew we have business to discuss."
The VP shrugged. "Sorry, man. He had some personal business that couldn't wait. It happens."
Trip couldn't deny the fact. "Yeah, it does."
Freak raised a hand, signaling someone out of Trip's line of sight. "He said to make sure you're not bored while you wait."
The dread in his gut grew horns, but he needn't have bothered. A half dozen women came in, all wearing nothing but lacy thongs, and lined up in front of him. Trip whistled his appreciation. The taste of the girl at the gas station earlier only whetted his appetite.
"Take your pick. They'll show you to the guest rooms." The women responded to his gesture, turning slowly to display their assets. They seemed accustomed to the little act.
At the Hell Raiders house, visitors might be directed toward unattached women, but what happened from there was entirely up to the women. This display made Trip uncomfortable, but he bit his tongue.
Stella grunted. "I'll just take the room, thanks. Got an ol' lady waiting at home."
Shit. That left Trip to show suitable appreciation of the hospitality.
The Saxon VP grinned. "Whatever you say, man. Saxons ain't prejudiced." The room fell silent as the implication sank in. Not many straight men refused free pussy.
Stella growled and clenched his fists. Trip touched his shoulder and shook his head. Not the time. "That's a good thing, since his ol' lady would kill us all if he came home smelling like strange pussy."
The other VP laughed and let it go. His confidence in his standing with his club stopped short of pissing off another club. Good. One of the girls left the lineup and led Stella toward the far end of the bar.
With the tension diffused, Trip approached the women and took a careful look. The one with wavy blonde hair kept her eyes lowered and her hands clasped before her. Shy. "What's your name, sugar?"
Startled blue eyes flared wide before she lowered her lashes again. "T-t-Tanya." Small white teeth sank into her lower lip.
He nodded. "Tanya it is, then."
She bit her lip harder and a small bead of blood appeared, but she turned to lead him away while the other girls left in a different direction.
Trip ignored the dread rolling off the girl. She would learn soon enough he wasn't a monster like some she'd probably been sent to take care of in the past. The longe
r he lived in the outlaw world, the less he understood some of the women who ended up in the life. A small percentage became Old Ladies, treasured by their bikers and respected by all, but most were little better than street whores, and some had it even worse than that. He couldn't fault them for doing whatever they felt they had to, though. Plenty of people working nine-to-fives were stuck in lives they hated.
Tanya led him through a broad door into a dark passage lined with doors on both sides. Industrial lighting hung from steel girders above, but at the moment, only every fourth bulb gave a dim flicker. From what he could tell, the Saxons had a pretty decent setup. Tanya stopped at an open door to the left and motioned him inside.
An over-abundance of caution made him wary as he stepped through the door, but Tanya flipped a switch and flooded the small room with light. It looked like any unoccupied room in any MC clubhouse anywhere. A bed sat against one wall with what looked like reasonably clean sheets, and a small nightstand held the lamp and a cheap-ass alarm clock. No one had bothered to paint the walls—at least not in recent history.
Trip motioned her to close the door and come inside. "Hi, Tanya. I'm Trip, and I'm not going to hurt you." Damn, that sounded creepy even to him. Still acknowledging her fear seemed like the way to go.
She followed orders but didn't speak, just gave a nervous nod and bit her lip harder and stood with her hands clasped and eyes down.
"Sugar, you might as well sit down and get comfortable. I won't bite unless you ask me to." He patted the bed at his side.
The girl acted like she moved through concrete, but she came over and sat, dread in every line of her slender body. Chick must have found herself in some bad spots in the past.
He couldn't fault her for being cautious. She didn't know him from Adam, after all. "Tell me a little about yourself, Tanya."
For the second time, she flashed him wide startled eyes. "W-what do you want to know?"
Well, now, that was a good question. He shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever you want to say."
