Marked By The Devil (The Devil's Riders Book 5)

by Joanna Blake

  When you partied as hard as I did, you needed a variety of places to crash. Crib. Shop. Club. Any would do. Especially when you didn’t have someone to go home to.

  Now Whiskey was here, forcing me to wake up. To come back to reality. And that was the last thing I wanted.

  Because in reality, I’d lost her.

  In reality, I was alone.

  My insta-family had gone bust when I moved too fast. I knew I only had myself to blame. I’d been overeager. I’d wanted to bring her close but all I’d done was push her away. But it still fucking hurt.

  I knew I was going to miss Molly forever. I’d even gotten attached to her kid brother. I frowned. I couldn’t abandon Tommy, even if his sister didn’t want to be with me. The kid needed a man in his life. He trusted me. I didn’t want to let him down.

  Yet another thing that sucked about all of this.

  But nothing touched the ache that was an empty hole inside me. A bottomless pit caused by the fact that she was gone. Gone from my bed and my life, even though she was still technically living at my place. I wanted her there, even if I had to sleep on this couch for all of eternity. It was somehow better than nothing.

  She was in my bed. It was the next-best thing to being there with her. She could stay there as long as she wanted. Forever, even. As long as she didn’t bring any guys over. That would kill me. But if she was there . . . it was something.

  Somehow, I had a chance. A reason to see her again.

  “Get up, jackass.”

  More water splashed my face. Well, it did the trick. I was fully fucking sober. Near enough, anyway.

  “Ease up, Whiskey. What the fuck is your problem?”

  He grinned at me.

  “Solving your problems for you, ya donkey.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Whiskey?”

  I stood, pushing my wet hair out of my face. My leather jacket was wet too. I sniffed it, realizing I smelled very distinctly of booze and cigarettes. That’s when I saw her.

  Molly was standing in the middle of my parlor, looking uncertain. Becky was there too. I noticed they were holding hands.

  Maybe this was it. This was goodbye. Molly’s beautiful eyes were so serious that it cut through me like a knife. She was going to do it for real.

  Whiskey had sobered me up just to watch me get my heart cut out of me.

  “Hi.”

  I said nothing. I was too busy drinking in the sight of her. She looked like an angel, so out of place in my shop that it confused my brain. I blinked and realized she was nervous.

  Molly was nervous. Why? Was she afraid I would make a scene when she broke up with me? That I would beg?

  Well, maybe I fucking would beg.

  I clenched my jaw. I would not make this easy for her. I would not lie down and take it. I’d fight for her.

  She stepped forward and held out a rolled-up piece of paper. I took it slowly, not taking my eyes from her beautiful face.

  “Open it.”

  I exhaled, finally looking down at the paper in my hand. It was . . . my eyes were not focusing. It looked like . . . a sketch. A beautiful line drawing of a heart with an arrow going through it. It could have been cheesy but it wasn’t. It was almost folksy looking, like a tattoo from the early days. Something you’d see on a sailor who had traveled to the Far East. Something I would have designed myself.

  There were three words in the center. They read . . .

  Property Of Callaway

  My head snapped up, afraid it was some sort of a joke.

  “What’s this?”

  I looked up at her, suddenly unsure. What the actual fuck was going on? She smiled tremulously.

  “It’s a tattoo.”

  “A tattoo.”

  I stared at her, still not understanding. She nodded earnestly.

  “Yes. I’d like to hire you.”

  “Hire me?

  “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  Whiskey’s voice boomed out but Becky immediately shushed him. I’d nearly forgotten that they were there. Hell, I’d nearly forgotten my own name, I was so happy to see her again. To be close to her.

  Even if it was tearing me up inside.

  “So. Can you do this for me?”

  “You . . . want a tattoo.”

  “No.” Her eyes were suspiciously watery. “I want this tattoo.”

  Understanding dawned. Relief crashed through me like a tidal wave. Relief and love and such a fierce sense of rightness that it nearly brought me to my knees.

  “Oh, Mols.” I crushed her against me, kissing her cheeks and ears and hair. I couldn’t let go enough to kiss her lips at first. I heard Whiskey and Becky say goodnight and leave. I barely spared them a thought.

  She was here.

  She was mine.

  We were kissing then, deep and wild and hot. But it was more than a sexual combustion. It was love. It was a deeper love than I ever could have imagined.

  “So, is it going to hurt?”

  I realized I was still holding the design in my hand. I shook my head, leaning my forehead against hers.

  “No, sweetheart.”

  “Really?”

  “It won’t hurt because I’m not going to do it.”

  She looked confused and a little hurt.

  “Why not?”

  “When you are ready, I’ll ink you. But it won’t say that you’re my property. I will never put that on your skin. I told you we belong to each other. It’s not the same thing.”

  “Oh.”

  She turned pink and I let my hands slide down to her bottom.

  “And I don’t want to rush you again. But I really appreciate the thought.”

  I gave her a good squeeze and she sighed. She’d been missing me too.

  “I want you so bad, Molly.”

  “I want you too.”

  “How do you feel about this couch?”

  “What for?”

  I gave her a look and she turned even pinker. Goddamn, the woman was adorable!

  “Your bare ass, for one thing.”

  She giggled and nodded. “Okay.” She gave me a saucy smirk. “It will give you time to sober up.”

  “What do I need to be sober for?”

  “To drive me home,” she whispered, “ya donkey.”

  I laughed and lifted her up, carrying her to the couch. I gently laid her down and started peeling my clothes off. She raised her eyebrows as I stripped.

  “You know, you could take your clothes off now.”

  She shook her head.

  “Too busy.”

  “Too busy doing what?”

  “Enjoying the view.”

  I laughed and leaned over her, tugging her clothes away. My smile faded, replaced by a serious look. I felt so warm inside. So loved. It was hard to believe that I’d been so close to losing her.

  And all I’d had to do was not push too hard. Give her a chance to breathe. She came back to me.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Me either.”

  I climbed on top of her, kissing her hard and deep. We went from zero to sixty just like that. My fingers found her pussy. I moaned when I found her wet and ready for me.

  “Mols, I want—”

  She gripped my hips.

  “I don’t want to wait. Do it!”

  With a moan, I positioned my cock against her slick lips and pushed forward. I nearly lost my mind at the feel of her tightness wrapping itself around me. Letting me in. Enveloping me.

  She whimpered in kitten-like pleasure as I drove home. And then it was on. Long, deep strokes that brought us both to the brink quickly and kept us there. For a long time, the only sounds in the parlor were our heavy breathing and words of love.

  But I couldn’t wait. My need was too urgent. I thought I had lost her and now I had to have her, claim her, make her mine.

  I tried to hold on. To be smooth and steady. I circled my hips as slowly as I could. But it wasn’t long until I was thrashing wildly, our tongues tangl
ing and our breathing rough. I felt a massive orgasm building up and I couldn’t hold it back.

  “Oh, God, Mols, I can’t—”

  “Ah, ah, ah, ahh!”

  The unbelievable sound of Molly’s orgasm tipped me over the edge. I felt her slick walls gripping my shaft, milking me of every drop as my lust poured out of me. I filled her up and kept going. I groaned, almost in pain, I was coming so hard.

  “It’s too much . . . fuck!”

  I collapsed beside her, turning her to face me. The two of us barely fit on the couch. Thankfully, it was pretty damn deep.

  My body was twitching for nearly ten minutes as we lay there entwined. I pressed soft kisses to her face and neck, my cock still embedded deep inside her. I wouldn’t move. I couldn’t.

  Molly’s eyes widened as I felt my cock unfurl to full attention once again.

  “Already?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “It’s been days since I had a chance to touch you. What do you expect?”

  She slid her arms around me and adjusted her hips so I could slide even deeper inside her.

  “I didn’t expect anything. I only hoped.”

  I moaned at the feel of her and at the meaning behind her words.

  “Mols . . . I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  “Shh, don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true.”

  She smiled and kissed me softly.

  “You’ll never have to again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sally

  My fingers strummed lightly over my favorite old guitar.

  I tilted my head, thinking for a moment. Then I played the chord again. The sound echoed through the house. Softly, though. Our little angel was sleeping.

  Little sister

  Won’t you come out and play

  We always wanted you to have a little sister

  I hope one day

  I exhaled. It was too simplistic. But the song that had been dancin’ around my heart was almost like a lullaby. A sweet, straightforward song. A prayer for a baby.

  Little brother

  I hope you will come today

  We always wanted you to have a little brother

  Maybe someday . . .

  I’d fought so hard not to dwell on the baby that hadn’t come. We had one. I knew I should be grateful for our perfect little family. I’d just always wanted more than one. I’d pictured two, or even three, when we first got married. Eventually, the disappointment had gotten to be too much. We’d stopped trying and thinking about it, but it was always there, hovering.

  I’d had little signs lately. A few things that made me wonder. I’d taken a thousand pregnancy tests in the past few years, convinced myself over and over that a baby was coming. I tried not to let it consume me, but every time I was late or my breasts got sore, it did.

  Lord knows, we were active enough. We didn’t use protection. I’d even taken my temperature and timed things for peak ovulation. But so far, nothing. So we’d stopped trying. Not that we weren’t busy between the sheets, but all the other stuff, well, it was too much.

  We were blessed with our one child. Our perfect little Lilly. I knew it. We had a close family with Donnie’s sister and mom next door, not to mention an amazing extended family. The club was everything to us. Lots of babies for our sweet girl to play with.

  It was more than most had. I was grateful for it. But I couldn’t help wanting just one more.

  Maybe someday . . .

  Actually, I had this crazy feeling that something was different. I thought about taking a test but I’d been sitting on it. I’d been getting that dangerously hopeful feeling again. Just a week late, and sore breasts. But I’d been wrong so many times before, convinced myself something was there that wasn’t. For a long time, I had been buying pregnancy tests in bulk. But then I’d stopped. It was just too hard.

  It had been over a year since I’d even bothered to take a test. I got a little superstitious around my period every month. Nothing like this though . . . nothing to make me really wonder. I sat up and set my guitar aside. There might be one or two pregnancy tests in the bathroom vanity.

  I told myself I was being silly as I rummaged through the drawers of the vanity. It was pointless. It was just not in the cards for us. We’d been lucky to get one. And we might adopt anyway. An older kid. There were tons of great kids out there who needed homes. Jack had been a foster kid, and look how amazing he was. We’d talked about it and even bookmarked some agencies online, but always in some vague, far-off way.

  Still, there was nothing quite like holding a baby.

  And what if . . .

  I felt the plastic wrap with my fingertips. There! It must have been all the way at the back of the drawer, nearly over the edge and into the back where nothing was ever heard from again. I pulled it out triumphantly.

  An unopened pregnancy test.

  Just one.

  It seemed fitting somehow. I swore I’d never buy another test. Never wonder again. Never torture myself.

  I’d just carry on. Put it aside. Give up hope. Or not give up hope, exactly. Donnie and I had talked about it. We would just change our dream to something we could achieve.

  I stared at the test in my hand, feeling like this was a momentous occasion, no matter what the test ended up saying. I was still wavering, wondering if I should save it.

  Just one more try . . .

  I took a deep breath, sitting on the toilet and pulling my skirt up. I wasn’t wearing panties, which made me smile a little. That was good. I needed the comic relief. I’d been hoping Donnie would come home early and surprise me.

  Instead, there was a teeny tiny chance that I might surprise him.

  I put the test on the countertop and washed my hands. Then I got busy. I straightened the living room and walked deliberately into the kitchen, as far from the master bathroom as I could get.

  I didn’t hover, even though I wanted to. I wanted to stare at the little strip and will a baby into existence. I made myself wait five whole minutes, just to be sure. I even made myself a cup of dandelion root tea. It was good for your kidneys, and I loved the ‘almost coffee but not quite’ taste.

  I walked slowly into the bathroom, then glanced at the mirror. There was a guarded hope in my eyes that worried me. I mustn’t put too much stock on this one moment. Just because it was my last test. Even if it was negative, it wasn’t the end of the world. It didn’t mean we would never have another child. Adopting was a worthy endeavor, after all.

  I inhaled and let my eyes slide to the countertop. I froze, not breathing for a moment. It was something I had only seen once before. After endless pink strips, there was something different.

  It was a little blue plus sign.

  Unless the test was wrong, or expired or something, the impossible had happened.

  After all these years, it had really happened.

  I was pregnant.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Donahue

  I stared at my phone, feeling panic mounting inside me.

  Come home now.

  Please.

  The texts from Sally were uncharacteristically vague. She also never really asked for help, not even when she’d been in danger. I knew her scumbag ex was not around. I had tabs on his every move, thanks to one of my cousin Mac’s friends who was a private investigator. The guy even had his own hacker on staff.

  It wasn’t cheap but it was worth it.

  My Sally was worth it.

  Besides, after the working-over he got, he wasn’t much of a threat. The guy didn’t strut around anymore. He limped. And he wasn’t nearly as pretty as he used to be. I hoped that made it harder for him to get close to women. In fact, the PI I hired had actually notified a few women about his past on my behalf. I didn’t want that bastard hurting anyone else. Ever.

  He was out of the picture for good. She was safe in this town for sure, with a couple of hundred unoff
icial bodyguards roaming the roads. And anyway, she said she was home.

  So the cryptic message was . . . well, I had no idea what to make of it. If she wanted to fool around, she would have sent me a sexy picture. I loved it when she sent me sexy pictures. If she got news about her career, she would just tell me. Her singing and songwriting were taking off these days in unexpected ways, with collaborations across genres and state lines. She was even laying tracks for a big producer in LA, though she did her recording from her own studio in our house. She was a hard worker and so talented it blew my mind. If she wasn’t already mine, a lesser man would have been intimidated.

  But the truth was that I couldn’t be prouder.

  So then . . . could it be my mom or sister needing help? No, she would tell me so I could rally the forces. We had club guys from every walk of life. We even had a doctor. And the Untouchables had their own preacher. The guy was badass and rode like the devil himself, but his faith in God was strong and true. We were on good terms with the Untouchables and used him for lots of stuff, like weddings and funerals.

  So yeah, I was worried when I hopped on my motorcycle and rode home at top speed. I nearly lost it on a hard turn. I was lucky I didn’t skin my hip as it grazed the road before I righted myself. Didn’t matter. My woman needed me.

  She’d even said ‘please.’

  I half expected to see smoke or a downed tree when I parked and ran toward the house. I threw the door open and ran through the house until I found her.

  There she was, calmly sipping a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen and reading a book.

  I stared at her, blinking. My heart was racing as I tried to catch my breath. She was safe. She wasn’t even . . . upset.

  Or naked.

  No. My wife looked . . . blissfully happy?

  “Are you alright?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I’m fine. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “It’s good news.”

  “Another tour date? Something about the record?”

  She shook her head slowly, walking toward me one step at a time.

  “Better.”

  “You want my rock-hard body to give you indescribable pleasure?”