Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  After fifteen years in the club life, I can spot the girls like her from a mile away. I tried to warn him off of her the only way I knew how. I told him she was going to get fat and lazy if he branded her. She probably will, too; she’s the type. I curl my lip and make my way toward the Pres’ office.

  “You are absolutely not going to that college. It’s nothing but a party school,” I hear him growl.

  I can only imagine he’s talking to his oldest daughter, Riley. She’s got it in her head that she wants to go to Chico State, and no way in fuck is her father gonna allow that shit.

  “Daddy, all my friends are going, and I’ll be so close to home,” she whines.

  “No, and that’s final,” MadDog’s voice booms.

  A few seconds later, an emotional teenager flies out of his office and past me.

  “Don’t laugh. You’re fuckin’ next,” MadDog growls as I walk into his office and close the door.

  “Don’t I know it. Rosalie is already all starry-eyed over Bailey. I’m definitely not ready for that shit.”

  “Fuck,” MadDog grunts. “I don’t know what’s worse, trying to keep all the dicks away from my girls, or trying to keep my son’s dick from going after all the girls,” he rumbles.

  “He better keep his little pecker to himself,” I state, giving him a hard look.

  MadDog laughs and shakes his head. “Kids, man, who the fuck said we should do this shit? I’m too goddamn old,” he murmurs.

  “I recall you telling Mary you wanted one more after Bailey was born and she put her foot down,” I say, arching a brow.

  “Bullshit,” he barks. I can’t help but laugh.

  We shoot the shit for a while and then we stand and head to church together. We have a meeting today. As a group, we have some important decisions to make about the future of the club.

  Unfortunately, there have been murmurings of another club trying to start shit and hone in on our territories, a new club that we don’t know much about. Hopefully, Soar and Torch have some more information about it since they’ve had a week to dig some shit up.

  I pass by Grease, my brother-in-law, who gives me a chin lift. I grin at him as I continue on my way. I’ve been in love with his sister for fifteen years. Though he hated me for it at first, we’ve handled our differences. Now, we’re not just brothers, we’re friends.

  My mind quickly drifts to my wife. She’s not the same person now as the day I met her. Time has changed her, it’s changed us. She’s a mother to three kids, and she’s damn good at it. She handles our house, the kids—and at night, she handles me.

  But lately, I feel like we’re in a complete rut. I don’t know how to change that. We aren’t spontaneous, we can’t be as parents. And our sex life, while it’s consistent, it’s a little boring. It fucking kills me to even think that.

  I pass by the free-for-all room and I pause. There’s a couple prospects fucking one of the whores, together. She’s on her hands and knees, sucking one cock, while another fucks her from behind. I watch.

  This seems to be where I’ve been finding myself more often than anywhere else. I shouldn’t even look, but I can’t fucking help myself—it’s sexy as shit.

  “Let’s get this meeting started,” MadDog announces breaking me of my thoughts.

  Chapter One

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  IVY

  “One more, you can do it,” Chad shouts.

  I growl at him, but I do what he asks me to, one more burpee. Fuck Chad and his fit self. I hate him. He laughs and it makes me hate him even more. When I’m back on my feet, I grab my towel from the bench and wipe the sweat from my face.

  Smiling, Chad reaches out and tugs on my ponytail. “Don’t hate me,” he says, giving me a mock pouty lip.

  “I do,” I state.

  He chuckles, “You know, me and Brian are going out tonight for my birthday. Please say you’ll come,” he all but begs. I start to shake my head, but he puts his hand up. “I don’t want any excuses. We’re going to Bullseye, be there at nine.”

  “I’ll try,” I lie.

  Chad gives me a disapproving look. I turn around and head toward the locker rooms. Chad is my totally ripped trainer. I’ve been seeing him for the past three months, and he is amazing.

  His boyfriend, Brian, owns the gym and as much time as I’ve been spending down here recently, they’ve both become friends. It’s been nice having people outside of my family, West’s family, or the clubhouse to be around. People that don’t know everything about my life, and people who don’t expect me to act a certain way.

  Grabbing my phone from my bag I check my notifications and frown when I see a missed call from West. He never calls me, ever. And lately, I hardly even see him.

  I don’t listen to the voicemail he left, returning his call immediately as I hitch my bag over my shoulder and head out of the gym. I give Chad, who is already with another client, a wave and make my way toward my SUV.

  “Where the fuck are you?” West barks in my ear.

  My hand shakes as I throw my bag into the back seat. Reaching for the door handle, I calmly reply, telling him that I’m just leaving the gym. “Get the fuck home,” he barks before he ends the call.

  A shiver crawls up my spine. West can be a hard ass, he can be controlling, and he can be quick to temper. However, he’s never been the kind of man to jump to conclusions or to yell at me over nothing. I wonder if there is something happening with the club? That is the only reason I could think of that would have him so upset with me, maybe it’s just stress.

  He’s been a bit on edge and distant lately, but I’ve just attributed that to something happening in the club. He doesn’t bring that part of his life home with him. A decision he made when we had our daughter, Rosalie, thirteen years ago. That doesn’t mean that I’ve stayed completely in the dark.

  I know that he’s the Road Captain of their club, but not much else, anymore. I try to find out what I can from other Old Ladies because I’m not someone who enjoys being in the dark—ever. The last thing I want is to look like a fool. However, the past few months I’ve had this niggling feeling that I’ve been looking just that way—like a fool.

  Driving home my hands continue to shake. I need to calm down. Whatever it is that’s got him all riled up, I have no doubt that it will be something we can talk through, and that I’ll be able to talk him down. I’m just nervous because this behavior from him is different.

  In fact, a lot of his behavior as of late is different. Then again, so is mine. I sincerely hope that we’re not drifting apart, but as the days tick by, it’s becoming more and more apparent that we are. I don’t know what to do to fix it, either.

  I feel like if I grab on too tightly to him, he’ll push me away. He’s not the kind of man who appreciates a clingy woman. I’m not the kind of woman who usually clings, either.

  Pulling up to our driveway, I don’t bother inching inside of the garage. Instead, I shift my SUV into park and slide out of the car. Leaving my bag in the backseat, I only take my keys, and phone, with me. It’s only ten in the morning. All of the kids have been at school since seven-thirty, and I’ve been at the gym for the past two hours.

  Maybe I’m becoming a little obsessed with working out, but the results have been amazing. I’ve dropped four dress sizes in three months. I can’t remember the last time I wore a single digit size before now, and although dropping those inches and pounds meant losing some boob and booty, I really don’t mind. I’m firm and tone, another thing I haven’t been in years.

  “You want to explain this shit to me?” West growls as soon as I step past the threshold of the front door.

  I blink, coming out of my daze and look up to his dark, angry eyes. I can’t tell by the rest of his features how pissed he is, as he’s started keeping his beard much longer, and fuller than he ever has before. Even his hair, which he kept a little long but still neat, brushes the tops of his shoulders in a curly mop now.

  My gaze shifts to a piece
of paper that he holds in his hand. “Explain what, West?” I sigh.

  He growls, closing the distance between us, and slaps the paper against my chest. I take it in my hand and look down. It’s our credit card bill. My eyes scan the numbers and everything looks around the way I thought it would, so I’m confused.

  “The fact that you spend two-fucking-thousand dollars at your gym every goddamn month,” he spits as he places his fits on his hips and aims his angry eyes straight at me.

  I nod once, biting the corner of my bottom lip, trying not to get angry at him, trying to keep myself calm. “I do spend that much, you’re right,” I admit.

  “Explain.”

  “There isn’t much to explain, West. I have a personal trainer who charges a hundred dollars an hour. I usually go to the gym two hours every day, five days a week, and he trains me for one hour, and the other hour I work out on my own. One hundred times five, times four weeks, equals two thousand dollars.”

  West runs his hand through his long hair and then scrubs it over his face. “I don’t say shit when you buy the kids more clothes and shoes than they need. I don’t even say anything when you buy yourself whatever you want, but this is too much, Ivy. You’re wasting money, throwing it down the fucking toilet and for what? So you can work out on a treadmill?”

  “That wasn’t nice,” I whisper. “I don’t go out and spend crazy money on clothes for me or anybody else in this house, West, and you know it. I’m a bargain shopper, and this is for me. I would think that if anybody understood, it would be you, the man who spends how much money on motorcycle shit?”

  West shakes his head once before he speaks, and when he does it’s low, and it’s lethal sounding. “That’s my job, it’s different, and you know it. Without my bike, without my truck, we don’t get money for you to blow. Cancel this shit, Ivy. We have college coming up in a few years, and I don’t want to be strapped for cash because you wasted it on yourself. Don’t be fucking selfish.”

  I jerk back as though he’s delivered a physical blow to me. “Selfish?” I whisper. “You’re calling me selfish? Are you sure you want to say that to me, West? Are you sure you want to say something like that, that you can’t take back?”

  He has the good sense to at least flinch. What he doesn’t do is apologize. “You don’t work, Ivy. You don’t bring in a fucking dime. But here you are spending two grand a month to exercise? For what? You fuckin’ your trainer? Is that what this is? You’re spending two grand a month to fuck some hard body?”

  Narrowing my eyes on his, I cross my arms over my chest. “I cannot believe you just said that to me,” I seethe. “Not that it matters, but no, I am not fucking anybody.”

  “Well I know you’re not fucking me,” he growls.

  It’s true. I’m not fucking him. I haven’t been for months. However, that isn’t all me. First, he hurt my feelings when I overheard him talking shit about me to Tinker a few months ago. Then, he left on a run for a few weeks. Then it all turned into this heavy unspoken thing between us. Like we’re both pissed off at each other but refusing to communicate it, or why. Then, there’s the fact that he’s hardly home anymore.

  “Why would you want to fuck your fat wife? I mean, were you just doing me a solid all those years?” I blurt out.

  He jerks his head and has the nerve, the downright nerve, to look confused. “Ivy,” he whispers. “Is that what all this is about? All this working out, changing your eating habits. All of this is over what I said to Tinker?”

  Blinking rapidly, I refuse to cry. I didn’t want him to know, and I just blurted it out. He reaches out for me, but I don’t allow him to touch me.

  I take a step back.

  West takes a step forward until my back is slammed against the front door and his front is pressing against mine. He slams one of his hands near my face and the other he wraps around my waist.

  “I didn’t mean it, baby,” he whispers. I let out a shaky breath when his nose slides alongside mine. “Swear to fuck, I didn’t mean it. I was trying to warn him away from that bitch. She only wanted him for his brand, it was obvious.”

  Letting out an unladylike snort I turn my head to the side, refusing to even speak. My eyes slide closed when the hand next to my head moves to gently wrap around the side of my neck, his thumb moving up and down my throat.

  “Baby,” he breathes. “Swear to fuck, it wasn’t about you. You were sexy as shit before. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  I want to believe his bullshit. Three months ago, I would have. Today? I don’t. “Where have you been sleeping on the weekends?” I ask.

  His fingers grip my hip tighter and I open my eyes, watching as his jaw clenches. I wait it out. He’ll answer me, if it’s the truth or not I won’t know.

  Our problems are more than just three months old. We’ve been moving apart for a while. Essentially, the moment we had children, and I wasn’t young and carefree anymore. I had to stay home, take care of them, and of the house.

  West has always done what he wanted, I’ve been fine with that. He’s been, for the most part, a present husband and father, but as the years have gone by, he’s drifted, except he’s moved further away from me.

  We don’t talk anymore, we haven’t for years, and the past three months we haven’t even been having sex. It’s fucking depressing.

  CAMO

  Ivy looks, fuck, she looks heartbroken. I want to tell her that I’ve just been sleeping at the clubhouse, drinking one too many beers with the guys, and nothing else. That would be a lie though. I’ve been spending my entire weekends in the free-for-all room.

  I’ve been watching people fuck, and be fucked, and I’ve loved it—every second of it. I’ve come close, more than once, to joining in, too.

  My love for my wife keeps me from taking the plunge, but to be honest, with the way shit is going right now, I’m not sure that the love I have for her alone, will keep me at bay. This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself visiting the room more often than not. I’ve done it off and on throughout the years.

  There’s something about the freedom in there, something I desire. It’s not the women, it’s not the strange pussy, because I could fuck that anytime I wanted.

  It’s the inhibition of the people when they walk through the door. Everything is gone, insecurities, problems, drama—it all just disappears. It’s nothing but primal, raw, fucking.

  “Been sleeping at the clubhouse,” I say, telling her the partial truth. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. Her eyes slide closed again, and she lets out a breath. “There’s been nobody else, baby,” I admit.

  I watch as her eyes open but she doesn’t look relieved, she looks, confused. “What are we doing, West? You’re mad because I’m spending money without your approval? You thought I’d let myself go, so I made a change. I’m finally feeling really great about myself, and you accuse me of screwing around on you. You aren’t home anymore, and we aren’t even having sex. This isn’t a marriage,” she whispers.

  My fingers flex at her words. Those words ring true, she’s right. This, what we’re doing, it isn’t a marriage. Neither of us is happy right now. I’ve hurt her, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m not even sure that I want to fix it.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  I watch as tears fill her eyes and her bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know.”

  “First things first. Cancel the trainer. Then, you and me’ll go on a vacation. Just the two of us,” I suggest.

  She blinks back her tears as she shakes her head. “I’m not canceling. I’ll get a job if you want me to, but I enjoy going down there. I like the way it makes me feel, the accomplishment I feel. I’m not willing to give that up,” she states, and I’m taken aback by her words. Ivy has always been level-headed, and agreeable. This woman, this is not my Ivy.

  “What will you do?” I chuckle.

  Ivy hasn’t done anything since we’ve been married. Before that, she was a waitress downtown at a dessert
bar. It’s not like she has any experience in much of anything. I highly doubt she could make two grand a month after taxes anywhere around here.

  Her body stiffens beneath my fingers, and she lets out an angry growl. “I’ll figure something out. It’s nice to know you have so much faith in me though.”

  I shake my head. “Babe, you have zero work experience. None of the Old Ladies really work, so it’s not like you can find a job working for a friend somewhere. You gonna go back to waiting tables? You have a household to take care of, sports to get the kids to, homework to help them with. What’re you gonna do?”

  Releasing her, I take a step back and try to keep the smile off of my face as I watch her process everything I’ve just said. I also watch as something shifts inside of her, something I’m not sure I fucking like all that much.

  “A vacation isn’t going to fix us, West. Not if this is the way you feel about me, and about my role. I’m a mother, yes, but our children are very much yours as well. It is not my sole responsibility to do everything around here. I’ve done it, and maybe that’s my mistake. I’ve done everything so that you can work and play, probably play more than I even realize,” she whispers. Her gentle voice is deceiving, and I stare at her like a fucking dumb idiot.

  I wait for her to continue, not sure what else she’s going to throw in my direction. “This isn’t working anymore, West.”

  Her words are like a physical punch to my gut. I feel sick the second they leave her mouth. I rush her, bending down to wrap my hands around her thighs as I pick her up. Pressing my mouth against hers, I don’t let her say anything else.

  She’s mine.

  My wife.

  “West,” she moans when my lips travel down her neck.

  She tastes like salty, sweet sweat, and her. I’ve missed her taste. She wraps her legs around my waist and shifts her hips so that her center rubs against my jeans, causing the semi I’m sporting to go fully erect. Stepping back, I carry her toward our bedroom.