Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  “So, you’re Drifter’s brother,” I announce.

  He nods, sucking air through his teeth. “Now, I have a dilemma. I don’t have those bitches, and I don’t have men anymore. Your club has been slowly killing off my men across the country. In today’s time, it’s not easy to recruit pure white men to join me. You people keep fucking other races and procreating. You know it’s really starting to piss me off,” he screams.

  I don’t speak. He’s fucking crazy. What I do, is try to figure out how I’m going to get my gun out of my holster and shoot this whacko. He starts ranting, his words becoming louder, his tone angrier. He runs his hand through his hair and waves his piece around.

  Slowly I move my hand from my side to my hip and then around the back of my jeans. He stops and points the gun at my head again. “You know my club is all but gone?” he whispers.

  My eyes don’t leave his as I nod. “That must fuckin’ blow,” I mutter.

  “The babies, these bitches, they were my only chance at rising up again,” he sputters. “Your president, his son, they killed my brother. My blood,” he rambles.

  I decide to forego my gun, unsure if I could get it out, cocked, and the trigger pulled in time to save my own skin as well. I shift my fingers around until they find my knife and I wrap them around the handle.

  “I was going to create my own army, an army of loyal followers, of blood soldiers,” he continues. His words make me physically ill, but I allow him to continue. He drops his head for just a second and I use it as my opportunity.

  Bringing my hand up, I lunge at him, shoving my knife into his side. His warm blood spurts all over me as he falls to his knees.

  Wrapping his hand around my back, he brings me down. His hand lifts between our bodies and I rear back. Taking my knife back out, and thrusting it into his chest. At the same time, his body jerks, and the sound of his gun firing fills the quiet air.

  I stay where I am, afraid to move, unsure of what my injuries are. My arm feels like it’s burning, but I want to make sure this bastard beneath me doesn’t do more damage.

  Looking down at him, I notice that his eyes are open, but he’s not moving. I sit back on my ass and let out a sigh of relief. He’s gone.

  I chance touching my shoulder and grunt when I realize it’s only been grazed. Fumbling for my phone, I call MadDog.

  “Camo?” he mutters groggily.

  “At the docks, I was attacked,” I admit. “You and Fury need to come here. I took the guy down.”

  MadDog shouts that they’ll be there as soon as they can and to sit tight. I decide that I can’t scare Ivy, so I don’t call her. I sit and I wait for my men to show. My arm bleeds the entire time, but I don’t care.

  As the adrenaline begins to wear off, I close my eyes and rest. This stranger, this brother of Drifters, he claimed that the Aryan’s were all but killed off. That means that all of this, this decade-long fight, it could finally be fucking over.

  “The fuck happened here?” a deep voice rumbles, rousing me from my rest.

  My eyes open and I’m met with not only, MadDog and Fury, but Grease, Sniper, Dirty Johnny, and Torch. “That’s supposedly Drifter’s brother,” I announce as I stand up from my place on the ground.

  “Your arm okay?” Torch asks, lifting his chin toward my bleeding bicep.

  I shrug. “Grazed, probably needs a few stitches.”

  “Give us CliffsNotes,” Fury demands.

  I tell them what the stranger said. Every word of our brief conversation and his rants. Fury breaks away when I mention his own kids and places his phone against his ear. A few minutes later he returns and announces that his kids are all safe and at home.

  “Is all this shit over?” I ask.

  MadDog runs his hand through his hair. “Get this fuck’s ID and I’m going to have Hacker double check, but fuckin’ shit I think it could be,” he mutters.

  “Be nice not to have them in the shadows any longer,” Dirty Johnny announces.

  I watch as Fury sifts through the guy’s pockets and pulls out his ID, then takes out an old picture. “Sure as fuck is Drifter’s brother, look at this shit,” he mutters holding out the photo. We pass it around and I almost do a double take, they look like they could have been twins. “No pictures of kids or anything, so we can hope that he’s the last of that fucked up line.”

  “We gonna dump him in the water?” I ask, glancing from the water to the body.

  Torch shakes his head and gives me a grim look. “Bodies always float to the surface. I’ll burn him, then have the bones dumped elsewhere,” he announces before bending down. I watch as both he and Dirty Johnny pick up the fat fuck and cart him off into the woods.

  “Go on home, nurse that arm,” MadDog murmurs.

  He doesn’t have to ask me twice, I’m already questioning my ability to ride the few hours back to home at this point. I’m fucking exhausted and I’ve lost a bit of blood which is making my head feel a little loopy.

  Straddling my bike, I start the engine and head toward home. I need to make sure my wife and kids are okay.

  IVY

  Something isn’t right. I can feel it down to my bones. I glance at the clock noticing that it’s well after two in the morning. I know West has to work in Humboldt tonight, so I don’t expect him home anytime soon, but something is very wrong.

  I find myself pacing our bedroom floor. I walk to the window and glance outside, before walking to the other side of the room.

  Over and over I repeat the motion.

  I don’t stop, my legs are shaky and achy but I can’t get rid of this feeling. I don’t care how late it is, nothing could help me rest right now. Nothing could ease my worry. I’ve even gone and checked all of the kids’ rooms more than once.

  One headlight flashes in my window and I glance at the clock to see that it’s now well after four in the morning. Rushing over to the glass, I watch as West gets off his bike and starts to walk toward the front door. I know it’s him just by his gait.

  I stand frozen in the bedroom, waiting for him to make his way upstairs. He doesn’t dally as he walks up the stairs and quietly opens the bedroom door. His body jerks but he freezes in place.

  “Something happened,” I announce.

  He nods slowly and closes the bedroom door behind him. He doesn’t respond other than that and just starts walking toward the bathroom. I follow him and when he flips the light on I gasp at the sight of him. He’s covered in blood.

  “West,” I whisper.

  “Close the door,” he announces. I do, locking it quickly as he drops his cut on the closed toilet lid and removes his shirt. “Don’t freak out. I was only grazed.”

  “Someone shot at you,” I state.

  He nods looking down into my eyes. Standing in front of him my lips tremble and tears fall down my cheeks. “Baby,” I whisper.

  “Clean me up and patch me up,” he mutters. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I reach for his bleeding arm. West’s hand wraps around the side of my neck and his thumb presses into the underside of my chin, forcing my head back. “Clean me up, baby. I’m good. It needed to be done and it’s done now.”

  “Who was it?” I ask, knowing the fate of the person. No way would West let someone shoot at him and live to see another day.

  His lips graze mine before he whispers against them. “Old club business. It’s all good now, baby.”

  I close my eyes as he lets his hand drop away from my face. “Patch me up,” he repeats.

  I nod and then turn toward the cabinet and pull out the first aid kit. I go about cleaning my husband’s mysterious gunshot wound, then bandage it after I try to talk him into going to the doctor for stitches, which he refuses.

  By the time we’re finished, he goes to bed, but it’s time for me to start my day. After zero sleep, I get the boys up and fed. I’m so thankful, yet again, that I don’t have to work this week. It is a blessing with everything that has happened.

  “Mom, will you just watch
a movie with me?” Rosalie asks.

  I smile and wrap my girl in a hug in the kitchen, whisper a yes and together we curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Breakfast at Tiffany’s our go-to classic movie marathon starter, we’ll end it with Gigi and maybe throw in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  IVY

  I spent the morning at the gym, and now I’m getting dressed to go to a party—a party where my husband’s desires will be out and met. I’m both excited and nervous.

  We haven’t made love since he found out about me and Derek, then again, we’ve gone through a hell of a lot since then, too. Tonight is the night though. I’m not exactly sure what to expect, but at least I know the man he’s chosen, it’s not as though it’s just some stranger.

  “Baby, you ready?” West calls out.

  I look at myself in the full-length mirror one last time. I’m wearing a beige spaghetti strap dress fits me like a glove. It’s short and tight, showing off more than I normally would, especially with its deep scoop neck at my cleavage. I feel sexy in it though.

  The nude suede high heel pumps finish off the dress and make my legs look a million miles long. My hair is up in a thick high ponytail and I did my makeup darker than usual since we’ll be partying tonight.

  West opens the door and walks into our room, stopping in the doorframe as his eyes scan my body. Mine do the same to his, he’s wearing worn jeans that he’s probably had since before we were married but they still fit him like a freaking glove. His tight T-shirt is black but shows off his trim, muscular body and I’m surprised that he’s not only trimmed his long hair, but also his beard.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmurs closing the distance between us. I gasp when his hand travels down to my ass and gives me a hard squeeze. “Mom’s downstairs, she’s going to stay with the kids all night.”

  “All night?” I breathe, looking up at him.

  West grins, giving me a wink. “Yeah, baby. All night,” he chuckles.

  A thrill shimmies up and down my spine at the thought. I can’t remember the last time I stayed all night somewhere, other than home. Then guilt slams inside of me, at the thought of leaving Rosalie. I can’t do it. I need to be here for her, just in case. She’s been so strong, but if she needs me and I’m not here, I couldn’t handle that.

  “Rosalie will be fine. I talked to her already, she knows we’re only a few minutes away, and she’s excited to spend time with her grandma,” West announces.

  I blush at the fact that I was speaking aloud without even realizing it, but I’m glad that I did, and I’m glad that my husband already has everything under control. I tip my head back and brush my lips across his.

  “Now let’s get the fuck out of here. I haven’t had sex with my wife in far too long, and I’ve been anticipating tonight for what feels like for-fuckin-ever.”

  West slaps my ass and another shiver runs through me. I don’t bother grabbing my purse or anything else. I have a few shorts, jeans, and tops in West’s room at the clubhouse along with toiletries. He wraps his hand around mine and tugs me behind him as we walk downstairs.

  Rosalie is curled up in a ball at her favorite place on the sofa and the boys are completely spread out. West’s mother is sitting next to Rosalie with a smile on her face and a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “You kids have fun,” she calls out.

  I thank her as I go around and deliver a kiss to both of the boys and Rosalie’s forehead before I follow West out of the front door. He locks our family inside and then we head toward his bike. I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I climbed on the back of this thing.

  West straddles his machine with ease, but it takes me a minute or two since I’m in a short, tight, dress. I blush when I feel the cool air hit my center before I press myself closer toward his back. West doesn’t know it, but I’m wearing light pink lace crotchless panties.

  I don’t know why I decided to wear them. They’re brand new, and unlike anything I’ve ever worn with him before, out in public. They make me feel dirty and sexy, all rolled into one, and considering what I’m about to engage in, I figured this was right on track.

  I’m glad that the ride to the clubhouse is quick. I really need some liquid courage. With each curve of the road that led us here, I started becoming more and more nervous. I’ve dismounted West’s bike before he even kills the engine. I stand nervously wringing my fingers together as he slowly dismounts, himself.

  I want to hurry him up, but I don’t say anything. He wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me to his side. Together we walk into the clubhouse and my nerves ramp up with every single freaking step. I can’t believe that this is it.

  When I cross over this threshold, my life will forever be changed—though hasn’t it already been? It seems like every corner that’s turned starts a new journey with us. This will be nothing different.

  “Ready, baby?” West asks as his lips brush the shell of my ear.

  Turning to him I let out a shaky breath. “I love you,” I whisper.

  “Love you, baby, more than anything,” he says and the way he’s looking at me, I believe it down to my soul. He loves me, and I love him, so that is why doing something this crazy, it’s something I’m willing to try.

  CAMO

  The bar is already full of smoke, music and naked bodies when we walk through the door. Ivy is a trembling mess next to me, and if I didn’t recognize the look in her pretty brown eyes as excitement, I would cancel the whole fucking thing. It is excitement though, she’s clearly nervous, but equally anticipating what’s to come later, as well.

  “Let’s get a drink,” she shouts up at me.

  Moving my hand, I press it against the small of her back as I guide her toward the bar. The prospect working behind the counter lifts his chin and I order a beer and a seven and seven for Ivy.

  He’s quick to fill our order and I watch as Ivy’s fingers wrap around her glass before she brings it to her lips. She drinks the entire thing in one gulp and I can’t keep from laughing. I order another and her glass is replaced almost instantly.

  “You want to see any of your friends?” I ask, pressing my body against hers and wrapping my hand around the outside of her toned thigh.

  She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Not tonight,” she whispers.

  “We’re going to go into that room, Ivy, but we’re not going to do anything until you ask for it,” I murmur against her ear.

  She lets out a breath. “We’re not?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No, baby. We’re going to watch, drink our drinks, and relax a little.”

  “Okay,” she breathes.

  Wrapping my hand around hers, I guide us both toward the free-for-all room. We pass by a lot of people we know, but I don’t stop to talk to them, and they don’t talk to us. Except Chad appears in front of us.

  “Have fun kids,” he smiles and gives us a drunken wave as Brian pulls him away.

  “Chad?” I ask in confusion.

  She shakes her head with a smile. “They wanted to come to a real biker party. All the girls said it would be cool,” she shrugs.

  “You want to hang with them for a while?”

  Her eyes widen and she looks back at her friends, then at me. “Really?”

  “That room will be there later, and we’ll have some fun, but once we’re in there I won’t want to come out for a while, so we can socialize now,” I explain.

  I watch as she takes a sip of her drink and nods. I feel a bit disappointed but not enough to complain. She walks over to Chad and Brian but I hang back. I’m content to watch her from a distance, in fact, I’m happy to do so. She’s beautiful and sexy, and it makes me sick how I was willing to throw her away so quickly. My woman.

  “You all worked out?” Grease asks me. Serina is hanging on his waist but she’s turning and talking to some guy I’ve never seen before.

  I don’t look away from her when I answer him. “Yeah, we’re good, brother.”

  “T
hank fuck,” he chuckles. “Didn’t want you two to throw something away that could be fuckin’ great.”

  I grunt. “I may be slow on the uptake, but no way in fuck could I throw that woman away, and stay away,” I murmur.

  “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth of it all,” he states. I feel his presence leave my side, but my eyes stay glued to my wife’s ass.

  I glance up when I feel someone watch me, and look around. There are a couple men looking, but they aren’t looking anywhere near me. They’re hangers, men I’ve seen around here or there, but I don’t know their names. Their eyes, however, are aimed directly at my wife as she talks animatedly to her friends.

  What should be jealousy, fills me, except it isn’t that. It’s a different emotion, it’s a mixture of pride, and maybe a little cockiness.

  I’m proud that Ivy is mine, and that other men find her attractive, they can look, and if they’re lucky I might allow them to touch one day, but Ivy will always be mine, I’m confident in that fact.

  I watch her talk until her cocktail is empty, then I decide that it’s time to go. Turning to the bar, I order her another drink and myself another beer. Then I make my way toward her.

  She doesn’t jump or show any reaction when I slip my arm around her waist, holding her drink in my hand. She turns her head to the side and grazes my cheek with her lips.

  “Thanks, baby,” she whispers, taking the drink from my hand. I remove her empty glass and place it on the table.

  Without any nudging or prompting, she says goodnight to her friends and turns toward the free-for-all room. I walk beside her, and together we make our way toward the room.

  We stand at the threshold but don’t enter. Her eyes dart all around as she takes everything in. She’s been by here before, but never during a party.

  I wrap my arm around her waist tightly, and guide her over to a sofa, sitting down first before I pull her on my lap.