Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  MadDog excuses us, and we all let out a sigh of relief that it seems we have this shit handled for now. The men go straight to the bar, and I find my feet automatically following behind them. I accept an offered beer from a prospect and take a pull as the familiar whore slides up beside me.

  “You ready yet?” she asks as she bites on her bottom lip, trying to look enticing.

  “Nope,” I say, popping my p for emphasis.

  I watch as she pouts and then turns and stomps off, like the child she probably is.

  “How you doing?” Texas asks from beside me. I hadn’t noticed that he was even there.

  “Good,” I admit, lifting my chin.

  “Any cravings?” he asks.

  “Nah, man. Had all that detox shit happen when I was locked up.”

  He smirks before lifting an eyebrow, “Now that it’s available, you good?”

  “Got my wife back, got my brother heading to Harvard, got my life back. I’m fucking great,” I state.

  “Lots of shit went down with Genny, and then your dad.”

  “Genny walking away from me, I earned that shit. In fact, she should have stayed away. I’m happy she didn’t, but the way I treated her for as long as I did—I don’t deserve her forgiveness. My dad? He was never really my dad. I’m more worried about the way my little brother is handling it rather than me,” I say. Texas nods.

  “Just want you to keep your head on straight, brother,” he warns.

  “I get popped in a piss test for dope, I’m on a one-way street back to prison. I have no fuckin’ desire to be back there again, so no need to worry about my head,” I clarify before I walk away from him.

  I ignore him calling my name, and I drop my beer on the nearest table before I head to my ride.

  I start my bike, and without another thought, I take off. I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t want to be around the clubhouse right now. I don’t feel tempted by the bitches or dope, but Texas pissed me off.

  It makes me wonder if everybody else is thinking like him. If they’re all waiting for me to fail, to take that first hit of coke or whatever.

  It’s not like I don’t have enough pressure with Imogen waiting for me to sink inside of some whore. I can tell that she’s braced for it to happen. She’s prepared to feel that hurt from me, and it kills me. I bought that shit with every shitty decision I made.

  I automatically stop in front of the tattoo parlor, and I don’t think. My bike knows me better than I do, and right now, it knows I need something. Ink. I don’t have much, just my club’s patch on my back, but now I think I need to add to my body.

  “Hey, brother,” Nick calls out from his stool.

  He’s drawing something and doesn’t have anyone in his chair, so I ask him if he has a couple hours to spare for a smaller piece.

  “You finally decide to mar the front of you?” he asks on a laugh. He’s been trying to get me to add to my back piece for years.

  “Outside of my forearm,” I mutter.

  “Old Lady’s name?” he asks on a hunch. I nod.

  “She’s put up with my ass for almost twenty years, figure I should make a gesture to show her what she means,” I shrug.

  “Fuckin’ hell man, twenty years?” he asks as he pulls out a paper. I watch him, pen-in-hand, start to sketch.

  “She was fifteen when I met her. Name’s Imogen,” I grin.

  “Robbing cradles,” he snickers.

  A few minutes later, he turns his sketchpad around and I’m blown away. It’s Genny’s first name written in old English with a crown that looks like it’s hanging off of the I.

  I smirk at the crown because it’s so her, “So you remember her?”

  Grinning, he shakes his head a little, “Hard to forget that little blonde princess you brought in here all those years ago.”

  I get into position and close my eyes as he preps to tattoo me. I also ask him to freshen up my wedding band’s ink. Fresh ink for our fresh start.

  Chapter Sixteen

  IMOGEN

  I didn’t miss this grocery store. Not a single freaking bit. I push my cart down the aisle and narrow my eyes at the box of pasta in front of me.

  It’s the only veggie pasta they have, and it looks like it has about an inch of dust on the box. I let out a sigh and turn my cart right around, deciding to leave town and go to the good store, even if that’s about an hour way.

  “Oh, sorry,” a young girl says as she bumps into my cart.

  “Umm, sorry about that, I wasn’t really paying attention,” I mutter as I hike my bag higher over my shoulder.

  “Aren’t you Soar’s Old Lady?” she practically sneers.

  I take her in a little closer and I blink once. She’s dressed slutty, really slutty. Without even thinking about it, I know exactly what she is. A whore. My back stiffens, and I narrow my eyes on her.

  “I am,” I state.

  “I can’t wait until he’s finished playing nice with you. He’s the best fuck I’ve ever had,” she announces before she walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the supermarket, completely shocked.

  “What a little see-you-next-Tuesday,” the cashier says from behind her counter, a few feet away, with a pop of her gum.

  “I don’t even know who she is,” I murmur.

  “Ignore her. Little girls like that?” she shakes her head. “Self-conscious and mean.”

  I nod but hurry out of the store, my eyes watering. I push thoughts of the little bitch out of my mind. I’ll talk to Sloane when he’s home, I promised him that we’d give this a fair shake. I can’t start jumping to conclusions without giving him a chance, even if I really, really want to.

  Once I reach my car, my step falters at the man who is leaning his ass against my driver’s side door.

  Pressing my lips together, I continue to walk toward my vehicle. When he sees me, he pushes off of the side and takes a few steps in my direction before he stops and looks down at me.

  “Imogen,” his smooth voice murmurs.

  My eyes shift from side to side before I close the distance between us. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought that I’d check up on you. See how your old man was treating you,” he rasps, his hand wrapping around my shoulder, and giving it a squeeze.

  I shake my head and my hair flies around a little in combination with the low winds. “I’m good,” I practically whisper as my heart bangs against the ribs in my chest.

  I don’t know why I’m not running and screaming from him, why I’m not stomping on his foot and kneeing him in the balls, but after the mini-scene I just had with that whore, I feel vulnerable and weak.

  Graham’s finger slips under my chin and lifts my face so that I’m forced to look in his eyes. “Are you done being played by him again, yet?”

  I open my mouth to respond, to tell him that I’m not being played. I open my mouth to defend him, because Sloane is mine and I’m his.

  I love him and he loves me, no matter what that little whore says. She probably knows about our relationship and our past. She probably knows exactly what buttons of mine to push.

  Jerking out of Graham’s hold, I take a step back. “Sloane is my husband. I already broke it off with you, Graham. I’ve told you, even if Sloane isn’t in the picture, you won’t be either.”

  He shakes his head as though he’s disappointed before he lifts his face and smirks at me, his eyes sparkling in a devious manner.

  “I thought that I’d give you one last shot, darling. I thought that you would be smart and save yourself. I didn’t peg you for a woman who would want to go down with her man,” he shrugs before he starts to walk away.

  “Go down?” I call out after him.

  Graham stops and turns to face me, standing about ten feet away. “Darling, don’t you know it yet? It may take me awhile, but I will win. The game may have changed, but I’m still going to take you away from him. It’s just that I’m not going to keep you this time. I’ve offered you up to be pl
ayed with, a reward of sorts.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  His grin turns devilish and it makes my stomach hurt, just at the sight of it. “Anticipation is fucking killer, isn’t it? Besides, I know you won’t tell Sloane. You’ll be scared, wondering if that cop is going to pull you over and use you on the side of the road; curious as to when Sloane will get locked up again. When he does, I’ve decided I’m going to use your body as I see fit. A plaything of sorts. Do you know how many men want a taste of Imogen Stewart-Huntington? It’s going to be great fun, darling. Just you wait and see.”

  My knees shake and my legs practically turn to jello at his words. My vision gets hazy, and I wrap my hand around the door handle of my car and try to keep my self standing straight.

  My eyes dart around the parking lot after I’ve gathered my wits, and I notice that I’m now alone. He’s gone and, unfortunately, he left me with nothing but fear.

  I should tell Sloane immediately. Graham is right, I won’t. I don’t want him to get sent back, and I have a feeling kicking Graham’s ass will do just that.

  Sliding into my car, I grip the steering wheel tightly before I head toward home. I need a damn glass of booze. Not beer or wine, either. I need the hard stuff.

  Pulling into the garage, I have one thought and one thought only on my mind—packing. I can’t be here. I can’t be the reason he gets sent back to prison. I know my husband, and I also know that he won’t stand for Graham’s threats. Once I walk inside, I shake my head.

  The house looks different, and it should feel different, but suddenly it feels the exact same.

  Sad, dark, dank, and fucking pathetic—just like I am.

  I walk over to the sliding glass door that leads out to the backyard and I look outside. Fourteen years ago, when I moved in here, I imagined that my backyard would be full of kids’ toys, jungle gyms, and maybe even a treehouse.

  It’s empty.

  The grass is barely alive, and there are no signs of life other than some plants and a tree. I turn around and press my back against the glass before I sink down to my ass. I bring my knees up to my chest and press my forehead against them.

  The tears flow as I think about how, yet again, I’ve fucked up my life because I’m blindly, head-over-heels in love with Sloane McKinley Huntington, III. Then I cry because the promise of us, of what we could have, it is so bright, so close, and yet so far away.

  The hours tick by, and I don’t move. The sun goes down, and I stay planted to my spot. I don’t know when, or even if, Sloane will be home tonight. My mind starts racing.

  I need to pack my shit and get the fuck out as fast as I can. I need to move far away—away from Graham and Sloane and my parents. I need to hide, because this shit is never going to end.

  “Genny, baby what’s wrong?” Sloane asks. I jerk my head up, and he’s crouched down in front of me.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “It’s eight. Sunshine, what’s happened? Are you okay?” he asks, concern written all over his face. I want to slap it off of him.

  “I’m just peachy,” I say bitchily, I decide to deflect and focus on the slut from the store.

  Maybe if I pretend that she’s why I’m upset he’ll believe it. Then when he least expects it, I can sneak away—forever.

  Sloane’s eyebrows pinch together, and his jaw clenches, a muscle jumping in his cheek as his eyes narrow on me. “Talk to me,” he demands.

  “One of your most recent whores told me just how great you were in bed in the middle of the fucking grocery store today,” I scream before clamping my mouth shut, afraid I’ll say more.

  I watch as he blinks slowly, and then his face relaxes as though he’s relieved.

  “Some slut said something in the store and it’s got you in tears?” he asks in confusion. “I thought something really bad happened.”

  “You fucking asshole. She’s new. I knew exactly who every whore was before I left, and I’ve never seen her before in my life. Plus, she looks young enough to be your fucking daughter,” I screech as I reach forward and start to slam my fists on his chest.

  Sloane presses his knees to the ground and wraps his hands around my wrists. He yanks me closer to him. Moving both of my wrists to one of his hands, he wraps his other hand around the back of my neck.

  “Sunshine,” he whispers. “Nothing’s happened with anybody since we got back together,” he murmurs.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sloane,” I grind out through my tears.

  Sloane doesn’t say a word. He stands and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder while he walks toward the master bedroom. I brace myself when I expect him to throw me onto the bed, but he doesn’t.

  He walks into the bathroom, flips the light on, and then pulls me down his body, my chest brushing his until my feet gently touch the ground.

  Spinning me around, he wraps one arm around my waist, the other just under my chin to hold my face where he wants it, pointed directly at the mirror.

  “Baby, look at yourself,” he rasps. My eyes lift as I look at myself in the mirror.

  I look like hell. My face is pale, my eyes are puffy and red. I close my eyes, but Sloane shakes my head gently, making me open them again. I move my gaze to his.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Imogen. Even when you cry,” he whispers, his head lowering to talk against my ear, his warm breath washing over me, sending chills over my entire body.

  “You’re mine, sunshine. Swear to fuck, I’m not going to hurt you like that again. I haven’t been with anyone since we got back together, nobody but you.”

  “So she lied?” I ask, my voice timid and scared sounding.

  “I was with her right after I got out. You knew I was with someone.”

  I close my eyes, letting the pain of his words slice right through me, but his fingers squeeze my cheeks and I open them again.

  His gaze is intent on me, but there is no anger, there is no pity, only concern. His hand moves from my waist up to just under my breast, and I feel his thumb slide along the underside of me.

  “You were gone. I came here, and I didn’t think I could get you back even if I’d wanted to,” he murmurs.

  “You didn’t want to, did you?” I ask, knowing that he’ll be brutally honest with me, even if it aches.

  “I thought you’d be happier without me, sunshine. I’d hurt you so much, so fucking much,” he says as his voice cracks.

  I turn around in his arms and look at his face, into his gorgeous green eyes. I see nothing hidden, only the complete and total truth staring back at me.

  There’s no wall up, no bullshit in his words, no smoothing things over to make me complacent. Just truth. I hate it, and I love it, but I hate it because where he’s got the truth practically spilling out of him, I’m full of lies. At the very least, I’m full of omissions.

  “I thought that I would be happier after I left you, after I left here,” I whisper.

  “But…”

  “How can I ever be happy when you have my heart?” I murmur.

  He guffaws as he wipes a falling tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Baby, we’re a fucked-up mess.”

  “We really are.”

  “We’re going to make this work, sunshine. You and me, we’re unstoppable, unfuckingbreakable, and we’re going to have an unbelievable future. We fucking deserve it,” he announces before he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine.

  I moan when his tongue slips inside of my mouth, lifting my arms to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer to me.

  “I love you, Genny. I was too fucking blinded by my own shit before to really see it, really see you. But, sunshine, I fucking love you,” he rasps against my lips.

  I melt into him. I melt for him. This man, this man who has broken my heart more times than I can count. He’s slowly starting to mend it back together again; and for whatever insane reason, I’m allowing it—I’m welcoming it.

  I’m loving it. I only wish that i
t could last forever, but I plan on cherishing it for the time being.

  “Swear, sunshine, and I’ll prove it over and over again. Swear to fuck, baby, nobody else,” he murmurs as his lips move across my jaw and down the column of my neck. “Spent a whole fucking lifetime hurting you, never again,” he mutters before his tongue snakes out and he licks my skin.

  “Sloane,” I whimper as my fingernails dig into the shoulders of his cut.

  “Mmm,” he hums as he slips to his knees and starts to unbutton my jeans. “No more talking, sunshine.”

  I suck in a breath as he yanks my jeans and panties down, simultaneously, before two fingers slide through my slick entrance and then plunge inside of me, curling the way he knows I love. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my clit and kisses me as his eyes look up at me through his lashes.

  “Want you to ride my face, baby. Can you do that for me?” he murmurs. “Miss this sweet cunt all over me.”

  “Sloane,” I hiss.

  He grins, removing his fingers from inside of me before he stands up. I watch as he undresses and my eyes catch something on his arm.

  “What is that?”

  SOAR

  Imogen is pointing at my tattoo, standing in nothing but her shirt while I’m completely naked in front of her. Honest to fuck, I do not want to talk about my new ink right now—I just want her pussy on my face.

  I want her to come, and then I want her to take my cock so that I can come. Nowhere in there do I want to discuss why her name is now on my arm.

  I love her, that’s why. Plain and simple.

  “Your name,” I shrug as I turn around to make my way toward the bed.

  Her arm flashes out and she wraps her hand around my wrist, halting me from climbing into bed.

  “My name?” she breathes.