The Devil's Due (2 page)

Standing in my bedroom doorway, I peeked around the corner into Darryl’s filthy room. The door was slightly ajar and I could see his hairy foot dangling off of his sagging bed. Good, he was hungover. I hoped the noise of the engines was hurting his head.

In two steps I was out the front door. I turned to catch the screen door before it banged shut, the habit of years of caution.

This was it. I held the door delicately in place and took a deep breath. Then I turned very deliberately and walked away. I did not allow myself to even look over my shoulder. I was moving forward now. Never again would I look back.

No regrets.

The roar of the engines grew louder as I stepped out along the road. I followed the noise, walking carefully in the only pair of high heels I owned.

It was already baking hot outside, even in the early morning sun. The dry, dusty heat sapped all the moisture from my throat and I was instantly parched. The wind was whipping along the road, tearing at my carefully arranged hair. I swiped the strands out of my mouth, but they repeatedly got stuck in my perfectly applied lipstick.

No, no, no! I have to look perfect!
I screamed inwardly.

Clenching my fists to try to hold myself together, I turned the corner down by Jim’s Automotive and located the source of the noise.

Bikers were strewn across the parking lot of our town’s only bar. The Dusty Dog Saloon was swarming with burly men in their road leather. Though it was only eight in the morning, some were already roaring drunk, backslapping and guffawing loudly as they admired each other’s bikes.

All conversation stopped when I stepped onto the lot.

“Good morning, sweetheart. You’re an early riser!” one of them called out to me.

“I’ve got an early riser for you right here,” shouted another, grabbing his crotch and thrusting it in my direction.

I swallowed and smiled sweetly, not wanting to make any enemies, and then ducked my head as I pushed my way through the heavy wooden door of the saloon entrance. I blinked in the sudden dimness.

The air was smoky and heavy with the smells of leather and sweat. I sniffed once in distaste. Then I inhaled a giant gulp, tasting the scent of freedom on my tongue.

The smell stirred something in me. It was the smell of men.

I was surprised to find how deeply it turned me on.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that everyone was staring at me. More than staring at me—these men were devouring me with their eyes. I shivered in spite of the warmth of the bar, suddenly feeling very exposed. I was at least ten years younger than the next youngest woman I could see. And there weren’t more than three women in the room.

But the men were everywhere; old grizzled men and young callow men; tall, hulking men and short, menacing men. They were all staring at me; at my high, exposed breasts; my flat stomach; my windblown blonde hair and the freckles I knew no amount of foundation could truly hide.

I felt like I was wearing a costume and they could see right through it.

Haltingly, I stepped into the room and up to the bar. Their stares gradually dissipated and the bikers turned back to their drinks, ignoring me completely. Conversation resumed and the din rose again to deafening levels.

Peering through the gloom, I watched the knots of men form and reform as the different chapters of the Devil’s Due met up after a year of separation. I saw a lot of laughing and ribbing, but a lot of hushed and hunched conversation, too. There was a seriousness in the air that unnerved me. I didn’t like thinking that these men had worries too.

The knot of bikers in the far corner looked the most serious. I shifted myself closer to their low conversation, straining my ears to hear what was on a biker’s mind.

“...come back... gone to shit, man... not the same since you left...”

The three men were speaking earnestly to a fourth man shrouded in shadows. They all spoke vehemently, but also with deference.

“...glad you’re back... .need you.”

When I strained my head to see the man in the shadows, I caught a glimpse of flashing blue eyes that froze me to the spot. He had spied me spying on him.

My heart hammered in my throat as I turned away, feigning nonchalance. But the piercing blue of those eyes lingered in my head, refusing to be ignored.

I turned back in spite of myself and caught him staring right back at me. He leaned forward in the booth, crossing his massive forearms on the table and treating me to a glimpse of his bulging biceps. I snuck one more helpless peek at the blue and was shocked to see something close to amusement dancing there.

I wrenched my gaze away again and leaned into the bar, wondering if a drink of water would help calm my nerves. The bartender looked harassed and ignored me, kept busy as he was with the constant pouring of whiskey.

But it felt good to grab onto something for support. The heels were starting to dig into my toes and I lifted one leg, then the other, trying to ease some of the pressure in my feet.

I gripped the bar and steadied myself, trying to figure out my next move. I needed to find the president of the chapter, that much I knew. My friend Cora had told me stories; rumors about what went on in club meetings. I knew the word of the president was law.

Looking around, I wondered which one he could be.

I felt eyes on me and turned.

He hadn’t stopped staring. I watched him unfurl himself from the cramped corner booth and draw himself up to his full height. I could see his blue eyes better now, piercing blue, darker than my own. They were a deep, unfathomable sapphire, and now instead of amused, they looked angry.

I shrank from him even as I took in his immense physique. He was younger than most of the other bikers, and below those angry, snapping eyes, I saw lips that looked soft despite being lost in several days’ growth of beard. His blond hair was long, caught back in a strip of raw leather.

When my eyes traveled down, I gasped. His thickly-muscled chest was naked under a leather vest that was studded with patches. My eyes lit on one I recognized from Cora’s stories.

1%.

I shivered. I knew what that meant. The Devil’s Due was an outlaw club. They say that 99% of motorcycle clubs are law-abiding, with no reason for outsiders to fear them. The Devil’s Due was part of the 1% you did need to fear.

I wanted to read more of the patches, but his eyes were magnetic and forced me to return his gaze. What I saw in his glare made me swallow nervously.

He doesn’t want me here,
I realized.
He’s trying to give me a warning.

A rough hand on my shoulder jolted me.

“You lost, little girl?” came the gruff voice behind me. It was definitely mocking me.

“She ain’t so little in the chest,” another voice called out. “I bet she screams like a woman in bed.”

Their leers made me blush, but I squared my shoulders. This was more what I’d expected. I was inviting their lust. It was my ticket out of here.

I shot a look at the blue-eyed biker. I didn’t need his protection; I knew what I was doing here.

I turned back to the gray-haired biker whose heavy hand still rested on my shoulder. He was wearing a battered cap and his breath smelled rank. I raised my voice to be heard above the din around us.

“I want to ride with you,” I told him evenly.

He grinned, showing a mouthful of blackened, broken teeth. A faint scar pulled down his mouth at the side, giving him the air of an evil jack-o-lantern.

“We ain’t from around here, girl,” he snarled. “Go back home and sleep with your teddy.”

“I know you’re not. I want you to take me with you.”

He scoffed. “You don’t know where we’re going.”

My fingers reached up and touched the bruise on my cheekbone. “I don’t care.”

The grizzled old biker broke out into a wider grin and an evil gleam came to his eye. “Women who ride with the Devils have to win over the whole chapter, girlie. You think you have what it takes?”

I lifted my hand and tugged at the zipper of my bustier, allowing him to get an eyeful of the deep valley of my cleavage. “I do,” I purred seductively. His eyes went to my breasts immediately and I relaxed. I knew how to handle a man.

He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving my chest. “Gotta give the Devil his due,” he muttered darkly, hunger burning in his eyes.

I smiled, certain that I had him where I wanted him. He snapped his eyes back up to my face.

“The prez is out on a ride right now,” he said distractedly. “Come back tonight.”

The words hit me like a blow to my stomach. Tonight? I couldn’t wait until tonight. I opened my mouth to protest, but then closed it with a snap when I saw his lip curl.

“I’ll be back then,” I declared proudly and turned to leave.

I wasn’t going back to the trailer, that was for sure. I was done with that place forever. Maybe I could go to Cora’s? No, she might blab my plans to someone. Maybe I would be able to hide in one of the falling down barns outside of town?

It wasn’t the best plan I’d ever come up with, but anything was better than walking home to Darryl’s evil hangover.

Stepping over the threshold into the bright sunshine, I felt myself suddenly yanked to the side with a savage jerk. I stumbled, crashing into a warm, immovable mass.

T
he blonde biker gripped my upper arm, hauling me around the side of the bar into the shadows. I barely had time to yell in fear before he had me pinned up against the baking bricks, his furious face inches from my own.

“Are you stupid, girl, or just plain crazy?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing.

The rage in his eyes made me shrink from him even as my own anger rose. He was taller standing, much taller than I had realized. His shoulders were broad and his grip on my arms was like iron.

I wrenched my eyes from his piercing stare and looked more closely at the tattoos that dominated his muscled chest. Centered between his bulging pecs was a screaming skull, set off with tongues of orange and red fire. I stared at it, mesmerized.

“Did you hear me?” He shook me slightly and I yelped.

“You don’t understand,” I pleaded, “I have to get out of here.”

“Riding with the Devils is not the way to go!” His voice was low and insistent. “We’re not a bus service. Do you even know what we do to women who want to ride with us?”

I swallowed but faced him squarely, hoping that my words would be calmer than I felt. His nearness was doing something strange to me.

“I can handle it,” I said softly, softer than I had anticipated. His grip on me loosed slightly and he trailed his warm hands down my bare arms. Despite the heat, I shivered.

Still keeping me pinned to him, he lifted his hand. I cringed in spite of myself, steeling myself for a blow, or a slap of some kind.

Instead he touched my forehead. Then he softly brushed my hair out of my eyes and smoothed it down. The rage went out of his eyes and was replaced with an unutterable sadness that brought tears to my own eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“Lainey,” I whispered, as if under a spell.

“Lainey,” he repeated. He tilted my chin with his finger, drawing me deeper into his gaze. “Lainey, go home.”

The tears that had been gathering now threatened to spill. I touched my cheek. “I can’t.”

His eyes went right to the bruise, and I knew he could see past the concealer. He bent his lips to my cheek, kissing the spot with a tenderness I had never experienced before. His lips were as soft as I had imagined when I first saw him.

I closed my eyes, shivering under the touch of his lips on my skin. That these feelings could come from someone so terrifying was confusing me. I wasn’t used to gentle men.

Before I could stop myself, I turned my head to catch those soft lips with my own. I moved as if by instinct, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

His hot mouth enveloped my own, parting my lips with an insistent thrust of his tongue. He smelled of whiskey, but under that was a sweetness that I could taste. I opened my mouth wider, trying to find the source of that sweetness, desperate for more.

It was like honey in my mouth, his tongue swirling with mine. I had never been kissed like this before. The clumsy embraces in the back of schoolboy Chevys was nothing in comparison. My head was swirling, my thoughts delirious with the heady taste of him.

His hands began to move over my body. Without a word, he lifted me up and pressed me into the wall. The rough bricks scratched at the skin of my back, but I didn’t care. All of my thought was focused on the feel of his warm, bare chest against my own.

He held me there suspended, my back scratching against the bricks, my whole body supported in his strong arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and flung my arms up on his shoulders, clinging to him like a child climbing a tree.

With one hand, he sought and then found the zipper of my bustier, pulling the tab to allow my unencumbered breasts to spill free. I moaned softly when he broke his lips away from mine to take one of my soft pink nipples into his mouth.

With one expert flick of his tongue, he had me moaning again as little darts of pleasure shot through me. I felt a flooding downward pleasure as a sudden rush of desire coursed along every nerve. When he lifted my skirt to explore between my legs, he found that wetness and pulled back in surprise.