Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  His eyes heat, and I see his smirk turn into a full-fledged grin. That’s when I know that I’ve made a mistake. A colossal mistake. I take another step back, stumbling on a rock and almost falling on my ass. Houston stalks toward me, and Sloane grunts behind him.

  I can’t look away from Houston. The evil darkness in his eyes has me frozen in fear. Taking another step back, my foot twists, and I cry out as I fall to the ground. Houston laughs.

  “Perfect, less work for me to do. Why don’t you take those panties off for me too, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck you,” I whisper.

  I open my mouth to scream when the sound of a bike’s roar pulls up. Houston’s head swivels to the side and he freezes. Looking around him, I see Camo, Torch, and Texas pull up. “The fuck,” he whispers.

  I can’t stop the smile from curving on my lips, but I don’t say anything.

  Staying planted on my ass, I watch as the guys get off of their bikes. Camo and Texas walk toward Houston and me, and Torch makes his way toward Sloane.

  “Didn’t realize this was your jurisdiction,” Camo murmurs as he walks closer toward us. Texas’ eyes flash at me, and I see anger in his gaze.

  Houston grunts, “It’s a road, and I’m an officer of the law. I can do whatever the fuck I want to.”

  “Wrong, you dirty fuck,” Sloane’s voice rings out.

  I watch as Houston’s body jerks, and then he falls forward. Sloane walks over to him, his hands now free of the cuffs and a gun in them. I jump as he pulls the trigger three more times, emptying bullets into the back of his head.

  Sloane turns to me and my gaze clashes with his. “Get up, sunshine,” he orders.

  I scramble as ladylike as I can and try to stand on my shaky legs and high heels—a combination that isn’t the best.

  “Come to your man.”

  His tone is one that invites zero room for argument, and I close my eyes as I step over the now very still, and extremely dead body of officer Houston. Sloane reaches out when I’m within arm’s length and tugs me against his side.

  “I’ll call a cleanup crew,” Camo mumbles as he and the other men walk away.

  I don’t look at them. My eyes are focused on the man in front of me, the man whose chin is tipped down and his jaw is clenched.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek, feeling his stubble before I lift up and press my lips against the side of his. “I’m fine, Sloane. You make me feel so damn safe.”

  “How in the fuck do you feel safe? That piece of shit has been gunning for you to hurt you,” he rasps.

  I smile up at him. “I feel safe because you protected me. You kept me safe, again.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “You good to get in the car? I need to talk to the guys.”

  “I’m good,” I whisper.

  I kiss him one more time, then I hurry toward the car and slide inside, completely ignoring the dead body on the side of the road. I watch as Sloane talks to his brothers, for about twenty minutes before he jogs back to the car and slides inside of the passenger seat.

  I’m completely stoic.

  I feel like I should be panicking, screaming, or feeling something—anything. I feel, almost numb.

  “Everything okay?” I whisper.

  Sloane jerks his chin up. “Yeah, he called in when he was here. The guys have to cover those tracks. Nothing to worry about. They have it handled. Ready to party a little?”

  “You still want to go?” I ask. I want to go home and silently freak out. I want to forget all of this ever happened.

  He smiles. “Yeah, baby, we’ll have fun.” We don’t say anything else as he drives us toward the club. We ignore the entire situation that just happened. Once we pull into the parking lot, Sloane looks over at me with a frown. “I don’t want you to worry about what just happened. You’re good, right?”

  I tip my head to the side as I give him a small smile. “He was planning on hurting me, Sloane. It was self-defense.” He grunts at my words as though he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully, he drops it.

  “You look too fucking sexy still. You should go change first,” he mumbles.

  I slide out of the car and start to walk toward the front door when he runs up behind me and scoops me in his arms. “Can’t ruin those expensive as fuck shoes now,” he grins as his lips touch mine.

  Looking into his clear, green eyes, I decide, not for the first time, that yes, sober looks good on my Old Man.

  Once we’re inside, everything about the past hour disappears. He sets me down, and I look away from his face to see that the room is focused on us. It’s still early, the music isn’t too loud, and the naked bodies aren’t on display yet.

  “I have an announcement to make,” I shout. I feel Sloane stiffen behind me. “There’s going to be another baby Devil in eight months or so.”

  Sloane’s hands reach out and wrap around my waist before he spins me around to face him. His face is pale and his eyes wide as he searches mine. “Are you fucking with me?” he rasps.

  “No, I’m pregnant. I just found out,” I whisper.

  “Holy fucking shit. Holy goddamn fucking shit,” he breathes before he smiles and looks up to face the room. “I’m going to be a dad,” he calls out.

  The room erupts in cheers, and the men come up to him, patting him on the back and congratulating him, then me.

  “Oh, my god, this is so amazing,” Mary-Anne says as she hugs me. Her belly is in the way, but she does her best to embrace me just the same.

  “How many babies does that make in less than a year?” Teeny asks, looking around. We count, “Five,” she states.

  “A new generation of Devils,” Ivy says with a smile.

  “Shit, this world is in serious trouble,” Mary-Anne laughs.

  We spend the rest of the evening with our friends, our family, and I’ve never been happier than I am in this exact moment. Sloane wraps his hand around my waist and tugs me against his side as his lips brush mine.

  All of the drama forgotten, and although I’ll probably have some kind of guilt about it later, there is so much to be happy and thankful for right now. I push all of the scary shit aside.

  “Love you, sunshine,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  “I love you so much, baby.”

  He places his hand on my stomach and his grin widens as his eyes almost sparkle. “Have I made up for my years of bullshit yet?” he asks softly.

  “You’re getting there,” I whisper.

  Epilogue

  EIGHT MONTHS LATER

  SOAR

  I watch, from across the street, with a sick satisfaction as my father-in-law pulls up into his driveway from a long day at work. His clothes are strewn all over the lawn, and a very expensive looking television has been thrown in the middle, beat to shit with a hammer.

  It’s completely out of character for my mother-in-law, but I can’t help but smile. He steps out of his car and walks over to all of his shit in the middle of the front yard, his hands on his hips as he tips his head to the sky as if to ask—why me.

  “Brother, his television?” Torch asks from my side.

  “He threatened to practically sell off Cleo, and hired a cop on the hook to put your ass away, giving him permission to have his way with her, what would you do?” I ask with a frown.

  “Burn his house to the ground after I killed him,” he shrugs.

  I laugh. He would do that, too. I personally don’t like murder. It’s a little too messy, and it means he wouldn’t be living with the consequences for his actions for too long. Like with Graham and Houston, the satisfaction of their deaths were just a little too hollow.

  “I prefer watching him suffer from afar.”

  “How’d you know he was cheating on his wife with his secretaries?” he asks as we walk toward our bikes, which are parked a block away from my father-in-law’s estate.

  “Man like that? Man that threatened to do what he tried to do to his own daughte
r, my woman? He had skeletons for sure. I just had to figure them out. Plus, I walked in on him fucking a secretary not too long ago,” I shrug. “It wasn’t that he was cheating, she probably knew that already.”

  “What was it then?” he asks.

  “It’s that he was keeping several of them, putting them up in fancy as fuck apartments in the city, spending time with them, taking them on vacations. He was giving them wife privileges.”

  He snorts. “Don’t fuck with Soar.”

  “Bet your fucking ass,” I grunt.

  It only takes us a few minutes to walk to our bikes. Torch waves as he goes in a different direction, and I head toward where I need to be.

  I’ve been gone for too long, anyway. I need to be back in that room with her. Walking into the building, I hurry to her floor and I stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

  Imogen is sitting up, her hair unkempt, yet gorgeous, and my son is at her breast. His blond hair is the only thing I can see of him as he’s swaddled in a blue blanket. Genny looks over at me, and I can see just how tired she is; but when her brown eye’s catch mine, she smiles.

  “How you feeling, mama?” I ask as I make my way toward my wife and child.

  I place my hand on Everett’s head. Everett, a name Imogen chose. She said because we were both so wild, he’s destined to be the same, and that’s what it means.

  The difference with him and us is that we won’t ever try to tame him the way our families did us. Fuck, yeah. Rett. It’s a perfect name for our little man.

  “I’m tired, but he’s hungry,” she murmurs softly.

  I lean over to press my lips to hers. She’s my goddamn hero, carrying him and then safely bringing him into this world to share with me—a fucking hero. With my lips still touching hers, I whisper that as soon as he’s finished eating, I’ll change and hold him.

  “Thank you,” Imogen sighs.

  “Where’d you go?” she asks as soon as he’s finished eating and I take him, throwing a cloth over my shoulder to burp him.

  “Had something to do. Nothing for you to worry about, okay, sunshine?”

  “Mmm,” she hums. I look over to find that she’s fallen fast asleep.

  I smile and take Everett over to the plastic bassinet. Changing his diaper, I’m slow and scared I’m going to hurt him; but he just looks at me the entire time, as if he’s trying to figure out exactly who and what I am.

  When I’m finished, I wrap him back in his blanket and walk him over to the shitty recliner they leave for us dads.

  I lay him against my chest and I pat his back as I talk to my little man.

  “You’re going to be a good man, you hear me? You aren’t allowed to do half of the shit your old man has. The other half, I’ll teach you about,” I laugh when he makes a gurgling noise before he sighs. “Never thought I wanted a little man like you. Waited thirty-nine years, and here you are. Aside from your mama, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Rett,” I whisper.

  A knock on the door interrupts our bonding, and I watch as my little brother walks through the door, my mother and her new husband, Calvin, trailing behind.

  “Oh, my God, he’s absolutely gorgeous,” my mother coos, careful not to be too loud.

  They all three sit on the sofa. As much as I should probably hand him to my mother, I hand him to my baby brother instead.

  I place him in Kip’s arms, “Here, Uncle Kipling, meet Everett.”

  “Holy shit, something this perfect came from my dumbfuck brother?” he asks with a laugh.

  “Hey, he’s mine, too,” Imogen says, her voice raspy from the bed.

  I walk over to her and sit on the edge next to her, taking her hand in mine.

  “He’s perfect, Genny,” Kipling says, unable to take his eyes off of my son.

  “He is, isn’t he?” she asks in a grin.

  “He absolutely is, and so are you,” I murmur as I lean down and press my lips to hers again.

  Imogen smiles and she squeezes my hand. “Are you happy?” she asks.

  “Have I made up for my years of bullshit, yet?” I ask. It’s a question I’ve asked periodically throughout the past year.

  “You’re really, really close,” she grins.

  “What else do you need, baby?” I ask as I run my thumb over her bottom lip.

  “More of this, all of it.”

  I smile widely. “You got it sunshine. A whole fucking lifetime of it.”

  Rough & Real

  Notorious Devils MC Book Seven

  Prologue

  IVY

  It is official.

  I’ve let myself go.

  I know it. My husband, West, knows it. Hell, the entire Notorious Devils club, including the whores, know it, too. I see the way they dismiss me as their eyes always lock onto my husband’s.

  My Old Man is hot.

  He’s been mine since I was twenty-one years old. Now, fifteen years later, I think he looks even better than he did the day I met him. Unfortunately, time hasn’t been as kind to me. Three children, twenty pounds, and the overall mom-look isn’t a gorgeous sight to behold when you look at yourself in the mirror.

  It doesn’t help that I’d overheard West talking about me just last night. I guess he didn’t realize that the bedroom window was open. He was outside talking to one of his brothers, a newer guy they call Tinker, who had been telling West that he was thinking of making some girl his Old Lady.

  “Don’t do it, brother,” West chuckled.

  “Why’s that? You got an Old Lady,” Tinker points out.

  “Yeah, few years down the road, after a few kids, they let themselves go, man. That sexy as fuck bitch that’s on the back of your bike, now? She’s gonna be a member of the PTA in mom jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, carrying around an extra thirty pounds from kid number three that she’s too fuckin’ lazy to lose,” West states.

  I sat in our bedroom, the bedroom where we made our youngest son, and I cried. That was last night. Today, I make a change, and not for him—for me.

  I didn’t know he thought of me that way. How could I? Certainly, not when he told me, more often than not, that he loved the curves of my body, knowing his babies put them there, while he fucked me.

  West and I aren’t perfect. We’re married. We argue. We’ve gone through weird moments off and on throughout our marriage, but what we never have done is go through dry spells. I’ve never once worried that my husband is fucking whores at the clubhouse, not once. Until now.

  We have sex almost every single night of the week. Exhausted or not, I always make time for my man. After hearing him talk to his brother last night, now I’m not so sure. That conversation alone makes me question everything about us.

  “Finley is picking me up and we’re going to the mall,” Rosalie, our thirteen-year-old daughter states from the doorway.

  Finley is the president of the Notorious Devils’, MadDog’s, sixteen-year-old daughter. “Is Bailey joining you?” I ask, speaking of the youngest Duhart kid, a thirteen-year-old boy—a boy my daughter is very much in puppy love with. She blushes slightly and nods. I sigh, knowing this day was coming, yet never truly ready for it. My brown haired, blue eyed daughter is growing up.

  “Have fun. Be home by dinnertime,” I murmur.

  “Thanks, Mom, you’re the best,” she squeals as she runs in to give me a quick hug.

  A few minutes later, Remi, our ten-year-old son, and Reid, our eight-year-old son, come rushing into my bedroom. They ask if they can go two houses down to their cousins’ to play Legos.

  One of West’s sisters lives two houses down from us. His other sister lives across the street, and his mother lives three houses down in the opposite direction.

  Some days, I enjoy his family being so close, especially since my only family is my brother, Barry. Other days, I want them to stay out of my business.

  With the children out of the house, I decide to go online and research gyms and trainers. No more feeling shitty about myself.
No more hearing my own husband tell his friends about my supposed thirty-pound weight gain, even though it’s only twenty—no fucking more.

  I call the gym and the trainer has an opening right away, so I text my sister-in-law to let her know that I have an errand to run and I leave. If I’m going to do this, I need to just go and handle it immediately. If I wait around, I’ll overthink it and avoid it.

  Once I arrive at the gym, I let the front desk know that I’m here and wait for the trainer. He arrives, and I try so hard to keep from letting my mouth fall to the floor. He isn’t much younger than me, maybe five years, but he’s ripped, totally and completely ripped. Immediately, I want to turn and run.

  “Ivy?” he asks, his voice softer than I imagined it would be. I stand and take his outstretched hand. “I’m Chad.”

  He tells me to follow him into his office and we talk. He asks me about my health, about my fitness level—which is pathetic—then he weighs and measures me. When I see the numbers, it makes me sick to my stomach.

  How did I let this happen?

  “Don’t stress, Ivy. You are not in bad shape. I’ve seen so much worse. I predict in just a few weeks, if you follow the plan we set forth today, you’re going to see a drastic change. Let’s talk about your goals,” Chad smiles.

  I leave the gym with a workout schedule and a food plan. Our first session starts at eight o’clock tomorrow morning when the kids are in school and West is gone, doing whatever it is he does all day long.

  This is the chance for me to better myself, to change my body and to love myself. Maybe my husband will look at me the way he did when we first met each other all those years ago. The way he would watch me from the window, when I worked in this little dessert bar downtown. Carlotta’s.

  CAMO

  I lift my chin to Tinker, who is curled on the sofa in the bar with his woman. I shake my head, knowing he’s going to make her his Old Lady. She’s a nice girl, but I can tell that she’s into him for one reason, and one reason only. For a brand.