Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  He nodded. “I have.”

  “Figured as much,” I said snidely.

  He pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve been looking out of state at a few business ventures. One of the reasons I’m here, actually.”

  “You came for business advice?”

  “No,” he said. “I need a manager. In Arizona. I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “In what?”

  “Managing a sandwich shop.”

  I cocked my head to the side dramatically. “In Arizona?”

  “Flagstaff, to be exact.”

  I cocked it to the other side, just as dramatically. “I’d be working for you?”

  “Correct.”

  “Uhhm.” I shifted my eyes toward the ceiling. After feigned deep thought for a moment, I met his curious gaze. “No.”

  I turned around. Holly was still gawking at him. I cleared my throat and motioned toward the sideboard. “Make yourself useful, Holly. Grab the end of that. Let’s center it with the pictures.”

  Baker beat her to it, picking it up before she could pick her jaw up off the floor. As I lifted the other end, he continued his full-court press.

  “I’d pay you pretty competitively.”

  “I’m a California girl,” I said. “Arizona isn’t my jam.”

  “You were born in New York,” Holly said.

  I shot her an evil glare. “Go home.”

  Baker glanced over his shoulder. “I’m Baker, by the way.”

  “Holly,” she said, her voice giddy with excitement.

  “Do you two want to go get a room?” I asked. “I’m trying to get some work done. It’s tough with you two flirting.”

  “I’d pay you a hundred grand,” Baker said.

  “Holy crap!” Holly gasped.

  “Not interested.”

  “Your personality can’t be taught,” he said. “I could go one twenty.”

  I almost dropped the sideboard. “I don’t want to leave California.”

  “One thirty.”

  He had my interest, but there was no way I could leave my job with Mister Greene. Not before I proved to him that he’d made a good decision by giving me the job. And, having Baker as a boss would mean I’d have to stop fucking him.

  I was willing to do neither.

  I lowered my end of the sideboard to the floor. “Sorry, I can’t.”

  He set his end down. His face was covered with what seemed to be a combination of concern and pride. “You won’t even consider it?”

  “I can’t. I made a commitment to my boss to improve spending. Until I either succeed or fail, nothing will drag me away from here.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nope.”

  He stroked his beard and looked me over. After satisfying himself, he scanned the room with his eyes.

  “Where’s your tape measure?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Concrete drill?”

  “Huh?”

  He nodded toward the pictures. “How’d you hang those?”

  “With those sticky things. Command Hooks, or whatever they’re called.”

  He tilted his head toward my artwork. “Those pictures will be on the floor before the sun sets.”

  I wasn’t an idiot, and I didn’t like being treated like one. “They’re designed for thirty pounds,” I said matter-of-factly. “I weighed the pictures. Twenty-four.”

  “Thirty pounds on a clean surface. A brick is basically compacted dirt. I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long.”

  “Oh.” I blushed heavily. I felt like a fool.

  “Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right back with some tools.”

  I wanted to object, but I didn’t. Seeing a man with power tools in his hand was a huge turn-on for me.

  “We’ll be here when you get back.” I looked at Holly. “At least I will be.”

  “I’ll be here,” Holly blurted. “Until we’re done.”

  Baker flashed a smile. “Be right back.”

  I assembled my best laser sharp glare and shot it at Holly.

  She gave me an innocent look. “What?”

  “Surprised you didn’t offer to show him your tits or something.”

  “He looks a lot better in person than he did from your window,” she said dreamily. “I love his hair.”

  “He’s. Off. Limits,” I said through my teeth.

  “You said you were just--”

  My face went hot as my temper flared. “Off limits. Off limits. He’s off. Fucking. Limits.”

  Her gaze dropped to my feet. “Ohhh Kaaay.”

  “I mean it,” I seethed.

  “Okay.”

  She fidgeted with my rolodex for a minute and then looked up. “Does he have any friends?”

  I gave her a look. “Does he have any friends that would want to fuck you is the question.”

  “That was rude.”

  “I’m mad at you right now,” I snapped back.

  “Why?”

  “Really? You were drooling.”

  “He’s cute.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Off limits. He’s yours.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “He’s mine.”

  As the words came out of my mouth, it dawned on me what I’d said. It was a false claim. Baker wasn’t mine. Not at all.

  Nor was I his.

  I feared I wanted all of that to change.

  23

  BAKER

  Andy’s insistence that she stay in California only left me with one option: telling the club the truth. Telling the complete truth about how things happened with Andy seemed impossible. For me to say it, I had to believe it. Believing I allowed lust to lure me into fucking her still made no sense to me.

  While gathered in the clubhouse in a heated discussion about what we planned to do, the air between Cash and I thickened with tension.

  “There’s a big difference between killing a bitch on the street and murdering someone in a third-floor apartment next door.” I looked at each of the men. “People get away with random killings all the time. No one gets away with murder.”

  “As a matter of California law,” Tito said. “They’re both murder.”

  “You know what I mean,” I snapped back.

  I surveyed the group. Four of the men were in deep thought, seated at the couch. Cash, on the other hand, was pacing the floor nervously.

  “I vote we kill the bitch,” he hissed.

  “You’ve made yourself clear,” I said over my shoulder. “But, everyone has a voice.”

  Reno stood and began pacing the opposite side of the room. “Out of the blue, this bitch shows up. Just so happens she gets a job next door. Just so happens she’s from Indio, and she gets this job in San Diego. Just so happens our clubhouse is one brick wall away from her office. Just so happens she moves in one brick wall away from your crib. Too many coincidences if you ask me.”

  I alternated glances between Goose, Tito, and Ghost. “Anyone else have an opinion?”

  “Knock her out with a chloroform rag, put her in a wetsuit, and take her out to sea with a surfboard tethered to her leg,” Reno said before any of them could respond. “Sharks will eat most of her. It’ll look like a surfing accident.”

  “Trihalomethanes will show in the toxicology report,” Tito said. “The cause of death would be drowning, at least initially. They’d determine she was unconscious from inhalation of trihalomethanes, though. They’d view it as murder for sure.”

  “Trihalo-what?” Reno asked.

  “Trihalomethanes. Chloroform is a trihalomethane. If she breathes enough of it to become unconscious, she’ll have it in her bloodstream.”

  “Got a better idea?” Reno asked.

  “I trust Baker,” Tito said. “He’s never led us astray.”

  “He’s thinking with his dick,” Cash snarled. “Not his brain.”

  I stood. “I’m only going to say this one more fucking time.” I glared at each of the
men. “I saw a cute bitch out my window. I followed her next door. I fucked her in her office. She moved into Preston’s old place. I fucked her in there. Then, I stopped fucking her. A week later, Cash brings it to my attention that the girl I’ve been fucking is the girl from the bank. Her hair isn’t brown anymore, and it isn’t curly. It’s straight, and it’s blonde. I didn’t recognize her. What happened between us was nothing but sex.”

  Cash stopped pacing and locked eyes with me. “Died her hair and changed her look. Sounds like she’s working undercover.”

  “Believe me,” I said. “I’ve looked this thing over from all angles. The management company put out a request to fill the position that was vacated when Preston was arrested. She’d been unemployed for six months, lost her house and her car, and moved from Indio to San Diego to live with her cousin. She applied for the job. She was hired. She rides a fucking bicycle to work. It’s coincidental.”

  “She can’t recognize us,” Tito said. “We had masks. To think she knows who we are is paranoia.”

  “I’m not paranoid,” Cash spouted. “That bitch told me she was going to make sure I fried for robbing her. She’s here to make good on her word.”

  Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not looking to get life on the RICO act for an organized murder. I could do a dime on a bank robbery, though. Wouldn’t even be forty when I got out.”

  He’d made a valid point. If a member of a motorcycle club killed a potential witness to a crime, they’d get life in federal prison. Being convicted of the bank robbery would bring a prison sentence of between five and ten years.

  I glanced at Cash and Reno. “He’s got a point, fellas.”

  Goose stood and looked at each of the men. “She was a mouthy Mexican. Now she’s a mouthy Mexican with a job next door. Personally, I think it’s funny. We’re kicking ass and taking names over here, and she doesn’t even know who we are. No one sees the irony in the fact that Brother Baker is slipping her the dick? It’s the ultimate fuck you. We robbed the bitch’s bank, and now Baker’s long dicking her. She’s getting double fucked. I say we leave it alone. We damned sure don’t need to be killing the neighbor. Shit, we already went through this conversation once, fellas.”

  “So, as long as Baker keeps fucking her, we’re good?” Reno asked, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. “But what happens when he stops?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Because she doesn’t know who we are. Remember that. She has no idea. And, I’ve already stopped fucking her. More than a week ago.”

  “I say we stay close to her, just to see what she’s thinking,” Ghost said.

  I nodded in agreement and then looked at each of the men. “You all know how I am about women. But, in this case, I’ll be willing to take one for the team.”

  Cash burst into laughter. “Take one for the team, huh? You keep fucking her, and we all walk around with our assholes cinched tight waiting for the axe to fall.”

  I stood. “I’m the clear loser in this equation, Cash.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you on that,” He said with a laugh. “Personally, I couldn’t get hard for that nasty bitch.”

  I felt my jaw tighten. She wasn’t nasty, and I wanted to attack him for saying she was. Instead, I walked to the kitchen and turned around.

  “Ghost made a good point. We’ve got to set emotions aside, and look at our two options. One is to leave it alone, and the other is to kill her. Killing her brings with it the high probability of being caught. Being caught means life is over.” I glanced at each of the men. “Leaving it alone, at worst, brings a ten-year hitch. And, that only comes if she figures out who we are. That time and date will only come if we tell her. It’s easy to say, let’s kill the bitch. Doing it and getting away with it is improbable.” I raised my flattened hand. “I vote we leave it alone. I’ll make the sacrifice to continue fucking this bitch on as as-needed basis for the time being.”

  “Leave it alone.” Tito’s hand shot skyward.

  Goose raised his hand. “Same.”

  “No brainer,” Ghost said.

  “Still think the sharks were a good idea,” Reno said. “But I’ll side with the consensus.”

  I looked at Cash. He glared at each of the men. “Fucking pussies.” He looked at me. His eyes thinned. “I think this deal smells like bullshit. I’ll vote with the club, but under…”

  His gaze lowered to the floor.

  “Under protest,” Tito said.

  Cash looked up. “Yeah. Under protest.”

  I scanned the group. “So. We’re unanimous?”

  Each of the men nodded.

  “Well,” I said. “I guess I’ll need to get close to this bitch and see what I can find out.”

  24

  ANDY

  I looked at each of the pictures. They were perfectly straight and evenly spaced. Baker had taken the time to measure the room, center the pictures on the wall, and hang them with anchors that he set in the concrete mortar joints.

  The sideboard was positioned underneath them, and had a large decorative vase at one end, and a small one at the other. In the center, a miniature decorative easel displayed the building’s only announcement. My Gala Christmas Bash.

  The door opened slowly. Much to my surprise, it was Baker. Seeing him twice in three days was unusual, but welcome.

  He was wearing tight-fitting jeans, worn Chucks, and a white tee shirt with a heather gray vest over it. On his head was a cool gray hat with a purple feather in the side. He looked like a walking commercial for a hipster bar, not a biker.

  I smiled. “Good morning. I like the fedora. It’s a nice look on you.”

  “It’s a porkpie.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s not a fedora.” He took it off and tipped it toward me. “It’s a porkpie.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I like it.”

  He scooped his hair away from his face and put it on. “Thank you.”

  While I was busy trying to come up with a good reason to keep our relationship a non-relationship, he sat down and glanced over his right shoulder. I studied his tattooed hand as he stroked his beard. His hands were sexy. Too sexy, to be honest.

  A man’s hands were a weakness of mine.

  A man’s hands and his dick.

  And, his beard. And clothes. And eyes. Oh God, yes. His eyes.

  Baker’s eyes were impossible to describe. It wasn’t the color or the shape that made them unique. It was what happened when he looked at me. His intentions seemed to be scattered about in the iris, which often left me staring into them in hope of learning his thoughts.

  “I like the decorative touch,” he said.

  I nodded toward my awesome display, even though he was looking away. “All the floral stuff is real. It’s just dried. Michael’s is awesome.”

  “Who?”

  “Michael’s. It’s craft porn for girls. I went on a shopping spree with my new company credit card.”

  He turned to face me, pinning me in place with his beautiful orbs. “It looks great.”

  At that moment, I wished he didn’t have eyes. Actually, I wished a lot of things.

  I wished what he wore didn’t matter, but I looked forward to seeing his outfits each time he came. I hoped the day would come when I could sit across from him and not become aroused, but being in his presence always brought a tingling to my nether region.

  I wanted to detest him for how he made me feel, but I couldn’t. I simply stared back at him with eyes of admiration.

  “I feel like starting over,” he said.

  I propped my cheek against my palm. “Putting on a different outfit?”

  “No. With us. You know, a fresh start.”

  I broke his gaze and reached for a pen. After an unsuccessful attempt to twirl it in my fingers, I flipped it onto the desk between us. Embarrassed, I reached for it and looked up. “Us?”

  “You and me.” He stood and held his hand over the desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Baker.”

/>   I smiled and reached for his hand. “Andy Winslow. Nice to meet you.”

  “Graham Baker, to be exact. But I don’t use my first name.” He released my hand. “Ever. It’s just Baker.”

  “I like it. It’s--”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Ever.”

  “Okay.” Whether I could use it or not, I liked knowing his first name. I liked starting over, and decided to do a little of it myself. “My Dad was from New York. My mom was first generation Brazilian-American. They met in Times Square. When I was thirteen, he cheated on her. She found out from my aunt. The girl you met? Remember Holly?”

  He nodded.

  “She’s my cousin. It was her mom that told mine,” I explained. “A friend of hers saw them out together. She was a waitress and they kept coming in to her restaurant.”

  He reached across the desk and cupped my hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m far from done.” I forced a smile. When I was younger, I couldn’t talk about it. Enough time had passed that doing so now wasn’t easy, but at least it was possible. “So, my mom got his gun and confronted him. He tried to take it, and she shot him. He uhhm. There were complications with his liver and pancreas. He uhhm….he died.”

  He squeezed my hand.

  There was more. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes and hoped I could keep from crying. After swallowing a lump that had risen in my throat, I continued. “She was thirty-seven when she died in prison. They said natural causes. I say a broken heart.”

  “I don’t know what to--”

  “Nobody does,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you, so you’d know. I don’t trust men, and that’s part of the reason why. Part of it. There’s more, but we’ll save that for another time.”

  “Do you want to go on a date?” he asked.

  My heart palpitated. It was a surprise attack, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close. I swallowed a knot of fear and looked at him with wide eyes.

  “A date?” I whispered.

  He squeezed my hand gently and nodded.

  “Yes.” I smiled. “Yes, I would.”

  25

  BAKER