by L. Wilder
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Excerpt from “Damaged Goods”
Satan’s Fury MC
by
L. Wilder
Satan’s Fury MC
Copyright 2017 L. Wilder
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of this series may be reproduced without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Some of the places named in the book are actual places found in Paris, TN. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are 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.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years or older due to bad language, violence, and explicit sex scenes.
L. Wilder
www.lwilderbooks.com
Cover Model: Konstantin Kamyin
www.konstantinkamynin.com
Photographer: Serge Lee
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations www.facebook.com/MayhemCoverCreations
Editor / Formatter: Daryl Banner www.facebook.com/darylbannerwriter
www.darylbanner.com
Teasers & Banners: Gel Ytayz at Tempting Illustrations
Personal Assistant: Amanda Faulkner www.facebook.com/amanda.faulkner.1023
– In The Series –
Catch up with the entire Satan’s Fury MC Series today!
All books are FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
Summer Storm (Satan’s Fury MC Novella)
Maverick (Satan’s Fury MC #1)
Stitch (Satan’s Fury MC #2)
Cotton (Satan’s Fury MC #3)
Clutch (Satan’s Fury MC #4)
Smokey (Satan’s Fury MC #5)
Big (Satan’s Fury #6)
Damaged Goods
(The Redemption Series Book 1: Nitro)
You can also check out the Devil Chasers in the new Boxed Set!!
To my readers
Thank you for making my dream of writing a reality. I couldn’t do it without you.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Excerpt from “Damaged Goods”
Satan’s Fury MC
Book 7
I grew up the youngest of four brothers. I was strong-willed with a mouth to match and wasn’t afraid of anything. I owed my charming personality to my three wise-ass brothers. Being the smallest made me an easy target, so they took every opportunity to make my life a living hell. I had to get tough. They gave me no choice. I learned early on if I wanted something, especially where junk food was concerned, I had to be prepared to fight for it. Deep down I liked the way things were. Living with them made me stronger and more prepared to take on the world, but being the youngest wasn’t my only obstacle. I was different from my brothers in every way. Unlike them, I wasn’t very good at school, sports, or following rules. They were choir boys, doing what was expected and kissing ass, while I was busy looking for some kind of trouble to get into. I was always on the hunt, and when I found an old, beat-up Harley, I knew I’d found what I was looking for. Even though my family disapproved, I saved every penny I earned working part-time as a mechanic and bought it. Until then, I’d never felt passionate about anything. I spent an entire summer bringing her back to life, and I’d never felt prouder than the day I rode her for the first time.
My folks always hoped I’d follow in my brothers’ footsteps, but none of the heartfelt lectures or parental threats ever stuck. I had no desire to sit in some office the rest of my life, so I set out for something different. My parents weren’t happy that I wasn’t heading off to college, especially my dad. He pulled out all the stops, thinking if he pushed hard enough that he could change my mind. He gave me one ultimatum after the next, but I didn’t waiver. I knew then I wanted something more than a mundane life working nine-to-five in some office, then coming home to my two and a half kids. It was what was expected, but it just wasn’t for me. I wanted something different.
Determined to find my way, I started working full-time at the shop and moved into one of the apartment upstairs. I worked my ass off, staying after hours and on weekends, until I saved enough money to buy myself a 2007 Harley Softail. With the few clothes I could stuff in my saddlebags, I hit the road. It was a decision that would alter my path in ways I couldn’t begin to comprehend.
After a week of traveling from town-to-town, I’d found myself in a small bar on the outskirts of Clallam County. It was like any other run-of-the-mill bars I’d ridden by, but something about it caught my attention. Maybe it was the flashing cold beer sign or the various motorcycles parked out front, but something about it drew me in. Unaware of what I’d find inside, I walked through the front door and headed straight for the counter. Several bikers from the Satan’s Fury MC were sitting there with their beers, talking. They were seemingly unfazed that I’d approached. I’d heard my fair share of stories about the notorious biker club, but seeing them firsthand made me curious to know more. I ordered myself a beer and couldn’t help but eavesdrop as they conversed back and forth.
“The asshole pulled right out in front of me,” a man with a dark beard growled. He was covered in tattoos and had a hard look about him—the kind that screamed “don’t fuck with me”. He took a slug off his beer before he continued. “Never even checked up until I pulled up to his window.”
From the end of the counter, I heard one of them say, “Careless bullshit.”
An older guy in his mid-forties to early fifties, leaned forward as he shook his head. “Common sense is all it takes, brother.”
You know that thing that most people have that tells them to keep their mouth shut and mind their own damned business? Yeah, I didn’t have it. My brain just didn’t work that way. I said what was on my mind, whether it was a good idea or not. It’s one of the reasons my dad always called me Two Bit; I was always throwing in my two cents whether it was warranted or not. Without giving it a second thought, I turned to them and said, “Problem is… most folks don’t have common sense.”
<
br /> The men all turned and looked at me with their eyebrows furrowed. You’d think I would have turned away, tucked my tail between my legs, and shut the hell up, but I didn’t. Hell no. I just kept running my mouth. “They have their heads crammed too far up their own asses to even notice anything else.”
“No doubt about that.” The older guy gave me a questioning look. “You got a name, kid?”
“Seth Lanheart… but most folks just call me Two Bit.”
“You ride, Two Bit?”
I nodded. “Since I was just a kid.” I could’ve just stopped there, but I didn’t. “There’s nothing better. Just follow the basic rules, and life is good.”
He paused as he studied me for a moment. “Care to share these rules of yours?”
“Pretty simple. Take care of your bike, use your head for more than holding up your fucking helmet, and respect the road because it can hit back harder than you ever could.”
“Pretty good rules you got there, kid.” He turned up his beer and finished it off before he stood up. The others followed suit and started for the door. Before they left, the older man turned to me. “You should come by the clubhouse sometime. If you’re up for it, we might be able to put you and your rules to use.”
Even though I had no idea where their clubhouse was, I replied, “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“When you get to the gate, tell him Cotton sent ya.”
“You ready to roll out?” Clutch asked, sounding impatient. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was set to go and ready to get our run over and done. While he’d never complain, I knew he was like many of the other brothers. He had his woman waiting for him at home and didn’t like the thought of leaving, even if it was just for one night. It was one of the sacrifices that had to be made to keep the club running.
“I’m always ready, brother. Just say the word.”
“Have you seen Stitch or Q’?”
“They’re waiting out back. Let me grab my shit, and I’ll meet you there.”
He nodded and started for the back door while I headed down the hall to my room. As I grabbed my duffel bag, I felt a sense of accomplishment. Over the past year, everything in my life had come full circle. After I got my in with the club, I spent the next year and a half prospecting, getting to know the ins and outs of the brotherhood, and ensuring my place in the club. It wasn’t always easy. I worked my ass off, did whatever I was told, and learned when and when not to open my fucking mouth—which ended up being one of the hardest lessons I had to learn. It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, but I eventually proved my value and got my vote. It’d all been worth it. Getting my patch was one of the best days of my life. I’d found my place, worked for it, and earned it. It was an honor to stand beside my brothers and call them family.
When I walked out the back door, Stitch was already on his bike while Clutch and Q’ were waiting in the SUV. As the club enforcer, Stitch had always been quick on the draw, prepared to handle anyone or anything that crossed his path, but patience wasn’t exactly one of his strong suits. Knowing he wasn’t a man who liked to be kept waiting, I hurried to my bike and followed them out the gate. The sun had already set and darkness had fallen as we headed towards the interstate, making it easier for us to travel undetected. These runs were nothing new. The club had been running guns for years, long before I started prospecting. Over the past year, we’d converged with several of Satan’s Fury charters, creating a larger pipeline. This enabled us to move larger shipments down south and get bigger payouts. While at times it could be dangerous, gun trafficking had turned out to be a very profitable trade for the club, and our next shipment would be the biggest one to date. We were staying the night in Seattle so we could meet up with our distributor first thing in the morning. Once we got the load, we’d meet up with the Seattle charter, and they’d make sure the goods made its way to Memphis.
When we got to town, Clutch led us to a small diner so we could grab a bite to eat. As soon as we parked, we headed inside and found us a table in the back. It was your typical diner with red checkered tablecloths and the smell of hamburgers drifting through the air. Many locals were sitting around talking as they enjoyed their food. We each glanced over our menus, and when the waitress came over to our table, Q’ was the first to place his order. “I’ll have two burgers with everything, an order of loaded fries with extra cheese, a beer and… a piece of pecan pie.”
Q’ was tall and thin, which was surprising considering how much the guy ate. I’m six-foot-five and two seventy on the hoof, and that scrawny motherfucker could eat me under the table any day of the week. “Damn, brother. Where do you put it all?”
“What? I’m a growing boy,” he scoffed trying to look offended.
“Sure, you are.” I laughed as I turned to the waitress.
We each placed our orders. Once she had gone back to the kitchen, Clutch looked down at his watch and yawned. “I can’t believe it’s only ten. Damn. I’m wiped.”
I smirked as I taunted him. “All those late nights are catching up with you.”
He sighed. “Seems like there is always something going on. Charlie and his baseball and football… and Hadley with all her school projects. It’s never ending.”
“I hear ya, brother. I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep. Mia just started teething and wants us all to know she isn’t happy about it,” Stitch complained, but it was clear by the look on his face how much he loved his daughter. She was just a few months old, but she’d already wrapped her father around her little finger. He looked over at Q’ and growled, “You better not snore tonight, numb-nut, or there will be hell to pay.”
Laughing, he replied, “I’ll do my best, brother.”
We all grew quiet when the waitress came over to us with our food. Q’ wasted no time digging in, and the rest of us followed suit. A half an hour later, we were done and headed back out to our bikes. As soon as we got to the motel, Clutch went inside to get our rooms sorted. After several minutes, he came back out and handed us each a key. “Q’, you’ll be with Stitch.”
Stitch tossed his cigarette to the ground as he grumbled, “Like I said… no fucking snoring.”
Shaking his head, Q’ took his key. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stitch. I’m not the one who snores.”
“Ah, yeah… you do.”
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
With a cocked eyebrow, Stitch retorted, “You got yourself a woman?”
A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Not a regular, but I have my fair share of the ladies.”
“You want one to stick around, you best quit that fucking snoring.” With that, Stitch headed towards their room. I grabbed a change of clothes out of my saddlebag and followed Clutch up the stairs. As soon as we stepped inside the room, Clutch dropped to the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. “Set the alarm for five.”
“You calling it a night?”
“Hell, yeah,” he grumbled. “Tonight will be the first night in weeks I’ll be able to sleep without any interruptions.”
After I set the alarm, I headed to the bathroom for a hot shower. Unlike the others, I wasn’t tired; I needed help winding down. By the time I was done, Clutch was sound asleep. Trying my best not to disturb him, I lay down on my bed and started flipping through the messages on my phone. It didn’t take long. I only had one. Like clockwork, my mother touched base every week to make sure I was still breathing. Once I’d let her know I was alive and well, I tossed my phone on the table beside the bed and stared into the darkness. I rolled to my side, trying to get comfortable, but I was too keyed up to sleep. Knowing I was just wasting my time, I got up and put on my jeans and t-shirt. After I pulled on my boots, I grabbed my wallet and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. I’d just taken my first drag when I noticed a flashing neon sign across the street. Thinking a beer might help take off the edge, I headed down the stairs and across the street.
As my feet hit the gravel of
the parking lot, I could hear the loud music blaring from inside. There were bikes and a few beat-up old trucks parked at the sides of the entrance. The front of the place was pretty well lit up, but it was pitch black all around the rest of the building. An uneasy feeling hit me as I walked through the door, but per my usual self, I ignored my better instincts. Seconds later, I found myself seated at the Nudie Booty Strip Club bar. I reached for my phone to leave Clutch a message, letting him know where I was, but realized I’d left it in the room.
A young waitress with short, curly blonde hair and way too much makeup came up to me with a seductive smile. She batted her bright blue eyes as she leaned over the counter, exposing more than a hint of cleavage. “What can I get for you, handsome?”
“A beer would be great.”
“Draft or bottle, darlin’?” she purred.
“Whatever you have on tap will be fine.”
“You got it.” She sauntered over to the keg, filled my glass, then brought it back over to me. “Can I get you anything else?”
“This’ll do it, thanks.”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied me for a moment. “You’re not from around here, are you? I’d remember a guy like you. You’re not the kind of guy a girl would forget.”
“Nope. Just passing through.”
“You should stick around a little while. I get off at twelve.”
“Sorry, doll. I’ll be long gone before then.”
“That’s a shame.” She ran the tips of her fingers across my arm. “I think the two of us could have a real good time.”
“As much as I’d like to find out, it ain’t gonna happen tonight.”
“Well, maybe next time.” She started to walk away, but stopped long enough to say, “Let me know if you need another.”
“Will do.”
While she was busy tending to a brute at the end of the bar, I took the opportunity to look around the room. While at first glance it seemed like your ordinary strip club with its scantily dressed waitresses and the strippers with large, fake breasts dancing on the stage, it was far from typical. Nudie’s was run by the Chosen Knights. I hadn’t realized it until I saw their motto: “Chosen by Fate. Bound by Honor”.
