Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  “You’re going to have a broken finger if you don’t put that thing up,” I seethed.

  “Alright, you two,” Baker said. “Enough. I don’t need to be mopping blood off this floor. Give it a rest.”

  Tito broke my gaze and looked at Baker. “I’ll hack into his system tonight and start listening where I can. I’m guessing all the interior cameras have sound. If so, I’ll be able to hear everything. It will come down to what he says and when.”

  “Keep me posted,” Baker said.

  Tito picked up his computer. “Will do.”

  Baker looked at Tito and then at me. “Either of you two got any big plans today?”

  “I need to get something to eat,” I said. “And I’ve got to stop by Mission Beach and top off the chemicals.”

  Tito raised his laptop. “All I’ve got is this. Why?”

  “Goose called. He’s got a water leak between the meter and his house, and he can’t get a piece of equipment rented until tomorrow to dig it up. He might use some help. Reno’s got the tranny out of his Shovel, and Ghost’s trying to get his Mustang finished. You two mind giving Brother Goose a hand?” Baker looked at me. “Hell, Cash, you can stop at the blowjob queen’s place and get a hummer after you’re finished.”

  “I’m done with that chick.” I glanced at Tito. “I’ll go give him a hand. I don’t need this little fucker tagging along, though.”

  “Cash can go get breakfast,” Tito said. “I doubt he’d be able to keep up with my Dyna after I put that big bore kit in it, anyway.”

  I glared at Tito. “Fuck you. Your Dyna’s a turd.”

  He looked at me and raised both eyebrows. “Faster than that Bagger of yours.”

  I stood and crossed my arms. “Ready to find out?”

  He stood and crossed his. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “I’ll have Goose tell me which one of you gets there first,” Baker said with a laugh. “Loser buys the beer for tomorrow night’s meeting. We’re running low.”

  After the installation of a big-inch kit on the bike, I had no doubt Tito’s bike would be faster than mine. Our riding talent was equal, so if I intended on winning, I needed a competitive edge.

  I turned toward the door and slapped the laptop out of his hand. When he bent down to pick it up, I planted the heel of my boot against the center of his ass and toppled him over onto the floor.

  Then, I took off in a dead run toward the door.

  53

  KIMBERLY

  Dressed in a ridiculously small two-piece bikini with a pair of cut-off jean shorts covering her bottom half, Jennifer stood at my side as I watered the flowers.

  She lifted her chin and gazed up at San Diego’s signature clear blue sky. “This day’s perfect. It’s only ten o’clock, and I’m frying out here. You should change clothes.”

  I was wearing shorts and an old tee shirt. Obviously more modest than her, I felt if I wore any less, I’d be committing a crime.

  “I’m fine,” I said, taking another look at her. “You should consider getting a different top. Where’d you get that thing, anyway?”

  She tugged at the small triangles of material, shifting them from one side of her boobs to the other. Eventually, she centered them over her nipples and gave up. “I bought it at Nordstrom’s Rack last week. I love it.”

  I moved the hose to the Cleveland Sage and then looked her over. Attempting to cover her boobs with the two pieces of material of her bikini top would be like trying to cover an SUV with a beach towel.

  It was a matter of what part she wanted to conceal and deciding if what was exposed was acceptable.

  “You should really do something with those things,” I said with a nod of my head. “I don’t want the neighbors thinking you and I are, you know, bumping uglies.”

  “I bought it to get sun,” she snapped back snidely. “Not go out to dinner.” She tugged at the hem of her shorts, and then peered out at the street. “If that worthless biker would stop by from time to time, they wouldn’t think you’re bumping uglies with me.”

  It had been ten days since I’d seen Cash. To him, it might have been normal to go such a lengthy period of time without making contact.

  To me, it seemed like a lifetime.

  “Do you think I should have waited?” I asked. “You know, to give him a blowie?”

  “Hell no.” She buried her nose in the purple flowers and inhaled a long breath. “I’d have sucked him off on day one. I’d have ridden that dick, too, but that’s just me.”

  I moved the hose to the next flower. “Do you think if I’d have screwed him that he’d have come back?”

  “I doubt it’s over. He might be coming back, you don’t know. Bikers are weird. Their clocks don’t spin at the same speed ours do. They answer to no one, and don’t give a shit about time of day, or days of the week. Every day is a weekend, and there is no night or day. It’s a constant party with those guys. He’s probably recovering from some striper party they had at the clubhouse or shooting it out with a rival club down in Chula Vista.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Stripper party?”

  “Yeah. They have those things all the time. They’ve got stripper poles in their clubhouses. Girls fall all over themselves to get a chance at riding the polished brass in an MC’s clubhouse.”

  “More Netflix facts?”

  “No,” she said. “This stuff’s common knowledge.”

  “Seriously? They have stripper poles in their clubhouses?”

  “Stripper poles. Machineguns. Heroin. Cocaine. Safes full of money. Meth labs. Stolen motorcycles. Yeah, their clubhouses are off-limits to pretty much anyone. Except for the club whores.”

  I released the trigger on the nozzle’s sprayer and stared at her. “Club whores?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I had no idea. What do they do?”

  She pinched her eyes closed and arched her back, pointing her sparsely covered boobs at the sun. “Basically, they’re naked robots. They’re all wacked out on meth and do whatever they’re told. Gangbangs, orgies, cum-fests, that kind of stuff.”

  “What’s a cum-fest?”

  “All of the bikers surround the girl and whack off on her face. She isn’t allowed to wash it off.”

  I gave her a look of disgust, followed by another of disbelief. “Ever?”

  “She can either eat it or have one of the other club whores lick it off,” she said as if the statement were absolute fact.

  With my look of disbelief still etched on my face, I moved the hose to the Chalk Live Forevers. “I don’t believe those things actually happen.”

  With her back painfully arched and her tits and face pointed skyward, she didn’t bother opening her eyes to respond. “You haven’t read any of those books yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t had time.”

  She tilted her head to the side and opened her eyes. “Maybe you should. They’re a wealth of information.”

  I swallowed heavily. “Sounds like it.”

  Wondering if Cash not coming by was more of a Godsend than anything else, I surveyed the remaining flowers. “If that’s what real bikers are like, why would you want to be with one?”

  “Sex,” she responded. “It’s all about the sex.”

  “Nothing more?”

  “It can’t be with them.” she said adamantly. “They won’t stand for it.”

  I wanted to challenge her, tell her she was wrong, or provide something to support my belief that Cash wasn’t like that. His absence, however, left me to question myself. The night he left, I would have guessed his return was imminent. After ten days of not so much as a word out of him, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jennifer’s books were written by former club whores who were truly knowledgeable of an MC’s behavior. Meth addicts who had spent their days spreading their bodily fluids on the stripper poles in clubs such as Cash’s.

  “I don’t need a man in my life,” I said. “If he stops by, he stops by. If not, I’m fine with that, too.�
�

  She shifted her attention skyward. “If he does, are you going to give him another blowie, or are you going to ride that big dick of his?”

  “Probably neither.” I dragged the hose around the porch and started watering the Cleveland Sage on the other side. “At least not until I know him better.”

  “What’s to know?” she asked. “Anything he tells you is going to be a lie. Then, if you have sex with him based on those lies, it’ll hurt that much more when he disappears. Have sex with him because you want that dick. Not for any other reason. Then, when he disappears, you got what you wanted, he got what he wanted, and no one got hurt.”

  For once in my life, Jennifer’s illogical sexual babble made sense. Not perfect sense, but sense, nonetheless. I’d already established my worth by denying Cash sex when he asked the first time.

  I had no further points to prove.

  If he stopped by, my focus would be about me and my needs, and nothing more. The last thing I needed was a man in my life that was destined to hurt me again.

  54

  CASH

  After blocking the elevator door so Tito would have to take the stairs, I got a head start on our race to Goose’s house. Taking the back way was less scenic – and required traveling along some poorly paved sections of road – but the shorter route secured my place in the record book as being the man with the faster bike.

  Using his palms as a squeegee, Goose ran his hands over his freshly buzzed hair and then wiped them on his jeans. “Why’d you come running up here like that?”

  “Tito...” I heaved to catch my breath. “Race.”

  “You raced Tito?”

  I pressed my hands against the thighs of my jeans and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “From the shop?”

  I nodded. “Uh huh.”

  He glanced at my bike, and then looked at me. “Well, you’re clearly the winner. Why’d you come running across the yard like that? Shit, you look like you’re going to have a heart attack.”

  “Wanted to…make it look…like I’d been here for...a while…when he got …here.”

  He shook his head and reached for the handle of the shovel that was at his side. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Sometimes.” I wagged my eyebrows. “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes?” He laughed and then pushed the shovel into the sandy soil. “You’re a full-time idiot. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

  “What the fuck, Brother?”

  “It’s the truth.” He gestured toward the pile of tools at the side of the ditch he was digging. “I’ve got to dig a hole big enough to drain the entire line and give me enough room to solder in a new coupling. Grab a shovel, Speed Racer.”

  I reached for a shovel. “Little prick put in a big inch kit, and he was bragging his little midget ass off about it, saying how fast it was.”

  “A Dyna with a one-hundred-and-ten-inch motor is going to be a fast son-of-a-bitch.”

  My eyes went wide. “One ten? I though he was going to a ninety-six?”

  “Nope. Jugs, heads, pistons. The whole kit. It’s a one ten. Hell, his bike weights, what? Six fifty? Yours is eight hundred, easily. No comparison, really. He should have whipped your ass.”

  I pushed the shovel into the soil, and then stomped my boot against it. “I knocked his fancy little laptop on the floor, kicked him over when he reached for it, and then blocked the elevator door. It was good for a five-minute head start.”

  He tossed a shovelful of dirt into the pile. “You understand winning a race like that isn’t winning, don’t you?”

  “It might be cheating, but it’s Tito. He needs his ass kicked.”

  “You’ve been on his ass since we were kids. One of these days he’s going to go ape-shit on your ass and wad you up in one of those arm bar things. He’ll break your arm off and beat you with the bloody stub.”

  “He’s fun to fuck with,” I said. “I always end up on top.”

  “You end up on top because he lets you.”

  “The fuck he does.”

  The sound of Tito’s exhaust echoed in the distance. Goose cocked his head the side. “Speak of the devil. Here he comes.”

  The unmistakable drone from the high-performance Harley engine grew closer and closer, and then appeared to stop making progress. After a moment of idling, the engine quit.

  He looked at me and grinned. “Sounds like he stopped down there where your sexy dick sucking friend lives.”

  Goose lived at one end of a long block, and Kimberly at the other. With the change in elevation of the road – and the distance between the two homes – seeing her house from his yard was impossible.

  “Probably got pulled over by the cops for speeding,” I said.

  He wiped his brow. “Probably poking his fat dick down her throat as payback for cheating on the race.”

  I’d purposely come in from the opposite direction, so I wasn’t sure if she was home. My jaw tightened at the thought of him being there.

  “He knows better,” I said.

  “You said in the meeting you were done with her.” He scooped a shovelful of dirt from the ditch and tossed it aside. “I’d say she’s fair game.”

  I’d said the same thing in Baker’s office thirty minutes prior. Despite what I’d said, the thought of Tito’s dick being in Kimberly’s mouth caused my blood pressure to skyrocket.

  “She’s not fair game,” I said through my teeth.

  “Hell, this can wait ten minutes.” He stepped out of the ditch and tossed the shovel aside. “Let’s run up there and see what’s going on.”

  I tossed my shovel beside him and then turned toward my motorcycle. “If his dick’s in her mouth, you’ll need that shovel to bury his dumb ass.”

  55

  KIMBERLY

  Sitting on the edge of my small concrete porch with her bare legs stretched onto the sidewalk and her elbows propped at her sides, Jennifer looked like she was sunbathing at the beach.

  “That looks really classy,” I said. “I hope the neighbors aren’t watching.”

  “It wouldn’t be a newsflash, or anything.” She tilted her head in my direction. “The neighbors know I don’t have an ounce of class.”

  I gestured toward her sparsely covered chest. “You should be in the back yard. One of your boobs is going to fall out the side of that thing.”

  “I’m ready for a mimosa. I was up all night reading,” she complained. “Hurry up, so we can go lay out.”

  The darker Jennifer’s skin was, the happier she was. She spent her late mornings and early afternoons maintaining her tan; sometimes at home, and oftentimes in my back yard. I enjoyed being outdoors with her, but my natural skin tone was such that I preferred to be slathered in enough sunscreen to preclude my skin from darkening any further.

  I moved the hose to the end of the flower bed. “I’m almost done.”

  The sound of a motorcycle in the distance caused me to look up.

  Jennifer jumped to her feet. “Sounds like Dolla Bill’s coming.”

  My heart raced at the thought of seeing him. The frustrations that had developed over the course of our conversation about stripper poles and cum-fests promptly vanished. As the sound of him approaching grew louder, I wondered just how resistant I could be to any advances he might make.

  With the hose dangling loosely from my left hand, I gazed up the block and waited for a glimpse of him, hoping he wasn’t simply going to rush past. When the motorcycle came into view, my heart sank as I realized it wasn’t him.

  The rider’s eyes locked on Jennifer as he rode past. Hers, in turn, followed him. The motorcycle slowed. Jennifer tugged at her top, ensuring the proper portions of her anatomy were exposed for his viewing pleasure.

  Then, in the middle of the street, the motorcycle came to a stop.

  “Jesus, Jennifer,” I whispered. “Now what?”

  While the rider glanced over his left shoulder, Jennifer took a few steps toward the street. In response, he turned the motorcycle
around and promptly pulled into my driveway.

  He shut the engine off and removed his helmet.

  I was shocked at his age. Lack of age was more like it. He appeared young.

  Really young.

  “He’s Jason’s age,” I whispered.

  She either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. As she strutted toward him, he stepped off the motorcycle and set his helmet on the seat.

  He was muscular, covered in tattoos, and all-around adorable looking. Adorable, and the same age as Jennifer’s son, Jason.

  She glanced at the motorcycle and then looked at him. “That thing looks like it doesn’t have room for two.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said. “But, I’ve got a few others that do.”

  “You should ride one of them the next time you’re coming this way.” She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her shorts. “Are you going up the street to see your buddy?”

  “I was.”

  I released the trigger on the spray nozzle and stared in disbelief at Jennifer’s fascination in the young biker.

  “We see you guys ride by here all the time,” she said.

  He folded his arms across his wide chest and looked right at her. “You’re going to need to cancel any plans you’ve got for this evening.”

  “Am I?” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m going to come by at seven and pick you up.” His eyes scanned her from top to bottom, pausing at her bikini top for a long look. “Wear something you don’t mind getting wrinkled.”

  “You’re picking me up?” She stopped rocking. “Tonight? At seven?”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “Did you say that you want me to wear something that’s wrinkle-free?”

  “You can wear whatever you want.” He looked her over again, and then met her gaze. “But It’s going to get wrinkled when I take it off and toss it on the floor.”

  Jennifer pressed her biceps into the sides of her boobs. “Sounds like a fun night.”