Devil's Ride: RBMC Tonopah, NV

by Nikki Landis

  As the last of the sun’s rays slipped below the horizon, I knew Keys wasn’t going to see the sunrise. His bike weaved in and out and nearly collided with mine a dozen times. He was barely holding on. It was a testament to the brutality and ruthlessness of the president of the Royal Bastards MC and his will to live. He led with an iron fist. He didn’t do shit he wouldn’t demand of his own brothers.

  We rode for over thirty minutes and out as far as we were able until forced to stop. Keys had barely shut off the engine when he fell over and landed with a thud. His normally vibrant green eyes had dulled considerably, and he was beyond the point of pain. A grimace filled his features as he righted himself and leaned against his bike as I managed to climb off my own and ensure the kickstand was down. He didn’t need his own ride forcing him to meet death any sooner.

  “Never thought I would say this so soon, kid. Raptor was my best friend.” He pressed against his side as I noticed the heavy trickle of blood that soaked into his t-shirt beneath his cut and stained the fingers of his left hand. He’d lost the leather gloves he normally wore sometime over the last twenty-four hours, courtesy of Scar. “You’re a tough son of a bitch just like your old man was. Raptor would have been proud to see the loyal brother you’ve become.”

  Fuck. This sounded like goodbye and I sure as hell wasn’t ready for it.

  “Always knew I was grooming you for my position. You’re a hard-ass and you’ve got what it takes to lead the Royal Bastards. Mammoth and Papa already agree that you’re the best choice.”

  Stunned, I landed on my ass as I sank down to the ground.

  “I was gonna retire in a few years and name you as my replacement. Just feels right. The Royal Bastards are in your blood, son.”

  Emotion rushed to the surface and I choked as I tried to reply, succeeding in only saying his name. “Keys.” I’d lost my fair share of blood during our mad ride across the desert and I knew my own hours on this earth were numbered. Slightly dizzy, I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m gonna be far behind you, pres.” The words burned my throat on the way out. “I’m a dead man and the reaper is gonna cash in.”

  Keys closed his eyes for a few seconds as he struggled to take in a couple of deep breaths. “This ain’t your last ride, Dex. Devil isn’t ready for you yet.” He sighed softly. “Gonna miss you. Love ya like you were mine and that’s the fuckin’ truth. Took you in and not a day went by that I regretted it.”

  Dex. My real name. He rarely said it since we all used road names. The way his voice softened proved he was close to the end. A funny gurgle bubbled up from his gullet and blood slipped from between his parted lips.

  “I love you as much as my old man,” I finally whispered, knowing he needed to hear it.

  Keys didn’t answer but I knew he heard. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  Swallowing hard, I glanced up at the moon and watched the clouds passing underneath her strange but luminescent glow. I loved Keys. It wasn’t a lie. He welcomed me in and made sure I didn’t turn out to be a dumbass. It was hard to hear what he had to say but I was grateful he did. “I wish ––”

  The words ended abruptly when I turned back to Keys and he was no longer breathing. No rise and fall of his chest. No funny sounds. No words of wisdom or promises that didn’t mean shit when you were the one left behind.

  Tears filled my eyes and I tried to blink them back, but they slipped down my cheeks anyway. I’d only cried one other time in my life. My old man’s funeral. Raptor’s death was sudden and shocking. A revenge hit on the club from a rival MC that was taken out before the Scorpions rose up in their place.

  Sitting on the sand, I lowered my head and tried to forget the massive sense of loss and the painful ache in my chest that had nothing to do with my injuries. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, I could tell my wounds were bad. I’d been too pumped up to notice earlier but now reality was forcing its way to the forefront. Pain lanced through my thoughts and slashed with brutal clarity.

  I thought about the club, my lonely childhood, the hard life I’d grown to love, and all the fucked-up shit with the Scorpions. The last few years of my life had become bloody and ruthless. To be precise since the moment I joined the Tonopah chapter of the Royal Bastards.

  My old man Raptor died when I was only twelve. He’d been a big part of the Royal Bastards and the SAA. I swore once I was old enough that I would join the club my father loved and died for. I’d carry on his legacy. There wasn’t any other choice for me. It was my destiny to wear the skull and crown of the club, proudly giving my loyalty to the brotherhood. I’d die for that patch.

  Today I finally would.

  I winced, pressing my hand against the wound in my stomach. Acid’s blade had gone deep. I could feel my organs through the cut. I’d taken a bullet below my right shoulder that bit like a rattlesnake, sinking down with brutal fangs, and piercing my flesh. The pain had been unbearable at first. Now, it was slowly fading. I hardly thought about it anymore, focusing on the heated pulse of agony that probably ripped my intestines apart or shredded some other organ in my abdomen. Blood seeped through my fingers as the swell of the crimson puddle on my shirt grew wider in diameter. I’d forgotten about Acid’s favorite little toy.

  “Uh,” I groaned, scooting along the ground and closer to a large boulder as I fought a wave of fatigue. Every muscle in my body strained with the movement. Dizzy, I overestimated my ability to move adequately and I nearly knocked over my bike when my leg slammed into the back tire. I’d be pissed if she got a scratch on her. That fuckin’ Harley belonged to my father and I never rode anything else.

  The dry desert air brushed over my skin with a warm caress as night completely descended but I knew the arriving coolness would soon replace it. The Nevada desert was hot as fuck in the summer and there wasn’t a hint of moisture in the breeze. Kind of like being shot in the face with a blast from a butane torch. It could steal the breath from your lungs. Tumbleweed rolled on by as if to wave at the fool who was bleeding out in their vicinity. Droplets of blood fed the thirsty sand and hardened the soil beneath where I lay.

  Funny how certain memories rose to the surface when you were dying. Like the scent of fresh rain. Pancakes every Saturday morning when I was a kid. My old man’s voice calling my name in his rough tone, always ready to ruffle my hair and ask how my grades were in school.

  No one could ever tell me he wasn’t a great father. Sure, Raptor did a lot of illegal shit and over the years my mother had revealed more than she probably should have known but he was everything to me back then. When he wasn’t on a run, he spent his time at home. He wasn’t out whoring around or getting into trouble. My old man played ball with me in the backyard, grilled out burgers and hotdogs, and played his part for my mother. He kept his home, his bike, and his family under his protection at all times.

  That was the way shit was supposed to be.

  I may have been young, but I’d seen plenty in my twenty years.

  And I knew how to take care of my own.

  “Lookin’ a little uncomfortable down there, handsome.”

  My head shot up and I blinked, focusing on the sexy as fuck brunette standing in front of me. Long bare legs led right up to a bikini clad bombshell with perfect tits and eyes that burned with an eerie crimson flame. “Where did you come from?” How the hell did she find her way out here in the middle of nowhere? “You must be lost, honey.”

  She smiled a predatory grin that seemed not only strange but a little odd. “I know exactly where I am,” she replied with confidence. “What’s the matter with you? Dying or something?”

  Snorting with both irony and humor, I nodded. “I think so.”

  “You’d be wrong about that ya know.”

  When she strutted forward and knelt down, her thighs opening wide as she straddled my body, I knew I was a fuckin’ goner. My imagination must have been conjuring all kinds of bullshit because her long scarlet nails tapped my chest as she settled over my crotch and
rocked her hips as my dick twitched. If I was dying, this was an interesting way to go. I’d fuck a hot chick on my way out. Why the fuck not?

  That was what I thought until she leaned in nice and slow until our faces were only a couple of inches apart. A wicked grin was hovering on her lips until it vanished so fast that I didn’t have time to blink inbetween what happened next. Her entire face transformed into the scariest fucking thing I’d ever seen. A skeletal visage appeared and snarled, the bones covered in ligaments and a light layer of muscle in sporadic spots that twisted her features into a nightmare.

  “Fuck!” I shouted and shoved her back, cracking the back of my head against the boulder as I tried to scramble away. “What the fuck are you!?” I demanded, wincing at the pain in my skull.

  Shit. I must be going to hell because this was nothing less than the freakiest monster I’d ever seen, and I liked horror movies.

  The face disappeared and so did the brunette. She was replaced by the tall form of a man. He stood in a black designer suit and impeccably clean. His closely shaven face and features were something you would see in magazines. Too perfect to be real. Black hair was slicked into the latest style, falling into one of his eyes in that carelessly attractive way most women adored. Cole black eyes stared back at my perusal, but it was the flash of crimson that confirmed he was the exact same creature that I’d been staring at a few seconds prior. This man and the woman were the same. Two completely different appearances of the same demented being.

  “I think you’re beginning to understand now,” the deep voice answered my thoughts. “In case you have any doubt as to my identity, I thought it necessary to show you two of my favorite forms.”

  His identity? “Huh?” It wasn’t my most articulate moment.

  “We don’t have a lot of time, kid. You’re gonna die soon.” He shrugged, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I can offer you a different life.”

  My eyes widened at his words.

  “A bargain.”

  “Why?” I asked. That was the first thought in my head. Why me?

  “Let’s just say I prefer to approach those who have what it takes to further my own personal agenda. Humans intrigue me. The ruthless and sadistic the most. Like attracts like. After all,” he added with a light chuckle, “Eternity is so boring.”

  Blinking, I finally figured out who he was. The goddamn devil. Holy shit!

  He appeared amused. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on. The question is, did you like the little stunt I pulled? Interested in a little payback for your enemies?” He sauntered forward and opened his arms wide. “Want to stick around and ensure those that harm your loved ones and club get what they deserve?”

  He knew my answer was yes, but I didn’t say it aloud.

  “There’s no guarantee the Scorpions will ever receive punishment. Want Keys’ death to matter?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Or is he gonna die without meaning? For a club that couldn’t give two shits they killed a man as important as your own dad?”

  Fuck, the devil was good at his presentation.

  “I can give you what you need. Want to scare them? Rip them apart? Send their souls to hell for eternal torment?” His eyes gleamed a brighter red with the prospect. “Because I like fucking with sick and demented souls.”

  A grin widened my lips. “Fuck yeah.” But I wasn’t interested in turning into a woman. Fuck that.

  The devil chuckled. “You won’t be getting that handy little trick. I must keep some of my abilities mine alone.”

  Yeah, I figured as much.

  “What I can do is give you a gift that few can boast.” He tilted his head to the side. “You familiar with the Grim Reaper? What he does?”

  Yep. “Like killing people with a scythe?”

  He smirked. “You could say that. A true reaper harvests souls. He sends them to hell for eternity. It’s the soul that matters.” He knelt down in front of me, careful not to get a speck of dust or sand on his suit. “For you, I’ll throw in a little something special. Auras are the true reflection of the soul. You want to know who’s worthy of the Reaper’s blade? The darkest souls. Those that are covered in ebony shadow.”

  My head grew a little fuzzy with his description. The blood loss was starting to take its toll.

  Two fingers snapped in front of my face. “You don’t have a lot of time left, Dexter Lanford. The devil is knocking. Will you answer?”

  I groaned as the pain in my body increased. It was a trick. I knew that. The devil was messing with my head, but I also knew that I wanted retribution and blood for what the Scorpions had done to my club. Keys and Lockjaw were dead. That shit wasn’t going unpunished even if I had to come back from the dead to do it.

  The devil laughed and stood, snapping his fingers one more time as a piece of parchment appeared out of thin air. An invisible pen began writing words in onyx ink quickly down the page and left two blank lines at the bottom. He lifted his other hand and bit off the edge of his finger as blood dripped from the digit and he signed the bottom line in his dark crimson blood. The wound healed immediately.

  “Your turn.”

  He thrust the contract close enough that I could read the contents from top to bottom. A twisted smile curved my lips. I was bound to the individual who signed this contract. Lucifer Morningstar.

  Given carte blanche, my only requirement was reaping souls and handing them over to the devil to fulfill the contract. There was no specific number written down but explicit instructions for recognizing souls that were to be reaped. Fail to take out those marked, I was in violation of his contract. Punishment could mean revocation of my abilities and immediate death. If that happened, my soul was Lucifer’s. Either way, he won.

  Brilliant. There was no way to trick the devil. He was a master of deception and had already proved it. Lucifer was ensuring he received exactly what he wanted. If I didn’t sign his contract, he would simply find another soul that would. It wasn’t complicated to understand.

  “My club?” I asked, taking an unsteady breath.

  “You will take the position that Keys wanted. The president of the Royal Bastards MC. The devil’s instrument.” He paused and leaned forward, touching the tip of his finger to my forehead.

  A shock jolted my body back into full awareness and I realized I had nearly died before I could sign the contract. “Shit,” I cursed.

  “You will take on a new road name. A name that personifies your position and authority and you will rule over all others beneath you. Your brethren will also join and sign my contract. Each member will take the Devil’s Ride. If they live, they’ll become patched in. If not, they are not worthy.”

  “Yes,” I finally agreed, swiping a finger through the blood on my abdomen and signing the blank line on the contract.

  At the devil’s urging, I took on a new identity to cement my leadership and allegiance to my club. It wasn’t hard to come up with a road name that instantly evoked fear. A name that perfectly described my transformation. I wanted vengeance, the suffering of my enemies, and the calculating ability to rain down hell upon those deserved it. A name that symbolized the cold, hard bastard I’d become.

  Grim, the Reaper.

  Lucifer’s hand pressed to my chest and he smiled with triumph.

  “Reap. Your. Souls.”

  My body was seized in a wave of pain so strong that I felt every limb ripped apart all at once. A cry of agony left my lips and my eyes fluttered shut. I briefly wondered if it was all a lie and I’d never awaken again.

  Too late.

  My soul was bargained and sold.

  The devil owned Dexter Lanford, the Grim Reaper.

  Bright light was beating down from above and I groaned as my head pounded with the worst ache that I could remember. I hadn’t had a hangover this bad in months. I lifted my hands to my temples and rubbed them to ease the pain. My eyes finally opened, and I struggled to sit up.

  Hot Nevada wind blew over my skin and clothes
while I stood and stumbled, trying to catch my balance. I teetered like an infant learning to walk for the first time and it would have been comical if not for the loud blaring of a horn and the screech of tires seconds before I was hit and knocked backward, flying through the air before I landed in an ungraceful heap about twenty yards away.

  Screams and cries of horror and shock filled the air. I mumbled incoherent words as my head turned and I found the dark blue sedan parked on the side of the road. The front of the car faced in the opposite direction. Through the back window I glimpsed two blonde heads filled with curls and braids. Two girls who couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve years in age. They were watching me with eyes as round as saucers.

  Outside, somewhere close a man and woman were arguing. One was saying they needed to locate an emergency phone to call for help.

  “There’s a dead body on the side of the road!” the woman yelled, her hand shaking as she pointed to the opposite side of Highway 95.

  “I know!” The man scrubbed a hand over his face. “Did you see the leather vests and the patch? Royal Bastards MC. We’re not getting mixed up in any illegal shit or murder.”

  “We hit that other man. We can’t just leave him for dead too!”

  The argument continued but I stopped listening as a shadow fell over my face and blocked out the sun. I blinked and looked up as one of the girls from the car knelt down. She seemed younger of the two and pressed a cloth to my face while she offered a timid smile. “You’re all bloody.”

  Surprised she had the courage to walk up to a stranger on the ground and offer assistance I didn’t know what to say. Her stuffed bear was clutched close to her chest and she glanced down at it, placing a kiss on its head, and then pressed it to my chest.

  “He always makes me feel better. Maybe Cuddles can make you feel better too.”

  Her kindness rocked my world. I was a bloody biker hit by a car and probably looked like hell. Scary as fuck, I should have intimidated or frightened her. I didn’t.

  “Thank you,” I managed to choke out.