Devil: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Baby Romance (Black Talons MC) (Outlaw MC Romance Collection Book 2) Read online

  She didn’t believe that a truly good rehab facility would be located in an abandoned wasteland like this. She glanced sideways at the man who had been her brother, once upon a time. He had a hungry look in his eyes, and he was sitting farther forward in his seat. Laurie’s stomach started to twist in a way it hadn’t since she was a little girl. Back when she was Laura, there had been times. Times Brian tried to do well. Times he tried to get off drugs. Tried to be a good brother and parent for her. It never lasted, and he had the same look when he finally left the house to score. Edge of his seat, his eyes too bright, his hands twisted tight around whatever was close – his T-shirt, this time, twisted tight in his fists.

  “Brian,” she started, and then there was a loud, terrifying sound as a white van drew up out of nowhere. It rode her back bumper, honking and swerving behind her. Laurie’s heart started to hammer in her chest; the road was clear as far as she could see in both directions, the only reason for the van to drive like this, right on her tail, was to terrify her. She spared another glance at Brian. He didn’t seem afraid or upset; he was just getting hungrier and hungrier.

  Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit. Of all the things Brian had done over the years, he’d never—

  Laurie forced herself to breathe. She knew the stories – junkies who whored out their kids or sisters to get enough money to get drugs. That was the one way Brian had protected her; when he had friends over who suggested such a thing could happen, Brian had beaten the guy in question to a pulp and tossed him out. He’d touched the top of her head with his bloody knuckles and smiled just a little.

  “My kid sister,” he’d say before he got high and passed out on the couch.

  He’d always protected her. He’d never done … And maybe he hadn’t, maybe he hadn’t done it now.

  “Brian, please,” she said, and he went cold.

  “Pull over, Laura.” His voice was tight, robotic.

  “Brian, no, why are you doing this?”

  “I said pull over.”

  “Please—”

  He screamed right in her ear, “Pull over the goddamn car, Laura, or I swear to God I’ll do it for you.”

  The van was tight on her back bumper, and Brian was screaming in her ear, and she couldn’t escape this. Her past had finally caught up, just like she’d always known it would, and she couldn’t escape. She forced herself to breathe again and bit the inside of her cheek to try and keep herself from crying. There were lots of things that could be happening. Maybe the people in the van were just going to rob her. She didn’t have much they could take, but she’d give it all up if they’d let her get away. And even if – even if it was something else, she was strong. She’d defended herself for a lot of years after she left home. She looked prim and proper now, she’d worked hard to cultivate that image, but deep down inside, the vicious kid who’d had to do anything necessary to survive was still present. Still where Laurie could draw on her. If she needed to.

  She steered her car into one of the deserted parking lots and kept her hands on the wheel.

  Somehow Brian had a knife in his hand. Her stomach turned over again, and she tried to shake her head.

  “Be a good girl, Laura,” Brian said, “and get out of the car.”

  Laurie couldn’t take it anymore. It was the strangest, pettiest thing to get hung up on in this situation, but she couldn’t, all the same. “That’s not my goddamn name,” she screamed back. She opened the car door, unfastened her seatbelt, and got out while she did it, but she said it. It felt important to be defiant. To be strong. To show whoever was out there that she wasn’t the kind of girl people messed with. Not if they wanted their balls to stay inside their sacs.

  The van had already screeched into the parking lot behind her. She mustered a breezy smile. “You were riding pretty close to my tail there,” she said, as a tall man wearing a ski mask over his face, despite the June humidity, barreled out of the driver’s seat. “You could have—”

  He spun her so fast she didn’t know what happened. He turned her body and slammed her hard into the side of the car. Laurie lost her breath and tried to gasp, but her lungs froze up in the moment of shock. Her hands were yanked behind her, and her wrists were crossed; she heard a rough, plastic sort of sound and felt the narrow pressure of a zip tie binding her wrists.

  She tried to fight, kicking and thrashing against the car, but there was no way for her to get purchase, no way for her to see and aim her strikes. No one trying to just rob her would bind her like this. They’d put a gun to her head and make her give up everything. There was something much more sinister happening, and she was afraid because she knew exactly what it was.

  The tears came. Laurie tried to fight them off, but she couldn’t. She was out of strength, out of hope, out of everything except fear. She looked at Brian over the roof of the car. She’d thought she’d see – well, something in his face. As if he were sad, or broken, or any sort of indication that he was upset about the choice he’d made here. Instead, he just looked still. His eyes were cold, painfully cold.

  “Don’t worry,” she heard behind her as the man slammed her against the car again, just as she was getting her breath back. “Your brother got paid a nice finder’s fee for you, and everything that comes next will be just fine.” She felt hands skimming over her curves, from her breasts to her hips, and she screamed again, thrashing harder even as her heart gave up. “Oh, nice. Hey,” he called to someone behind him, “mark down that this one’s a fighter. Someone will pay extra for the chance to slap a bitch around while he drills her.”

  Laurie’s stomach rose. It was the worst thing, the worst thing she’d ever been willing to imagine, what was happening to her now. She went limp against the ties, feeling herself shatter and break. There was nothing left.

  She was hauled along the few feet from the car to the back of the van. When she lost her balance, and her feet dragged against the broken pavement, she was hauled up by her forearm, hard enough to wrench her shoulder. They didn’t give a shit about her, about how she was treated or how she looked. She was going to be a warm pussy they could sell to the highest bidder. She knew what happened next; she’d heard enough stories from girls who had needed to survive nightmares like this. She heard stories about the ones who hadn’t.

  Without her arms for balance, Laurie couldn’t keep from tipping over when they tossed her into the van. The floor was hard, and her head bounced off it hard enough to make her see stars. The shock, the fear, and the pain all twisted into one sharp sensation, and she found her vision tunneling and darkening. She stared out the back of the van, thinking this might be the last time she saw – well, anything.

  What Laurie saw was her brother, holding out his hand for his score, looking at her with all the love and affection one saw in a shark.

  She let go of the world. She didn’t like it anyway. To hell with it.

  Chapter Two

  Jacob

  Jacob stretched, positioning the underarm holder in its spot and making sure that the straps were secure and reliable. He didn’t normally ‘carry’ when he was in rival territory – that was a great way to end your life prematurely – but he simply didn’t know enough about the Devil’s Weapons yet. The club was newly formed, and they’d been a little too friendly for his taste. There was a fine line between “wanting to form good relationships with other motorcycle clubs in the area” and “trying to get on someone’s good side so that you could sweep their territories and businesses out from under them”. Jacob’s instincts were that Whip and his Weapons were on the wrong side of that divide, but he wouldn’t move the Black Talons against them yet. Not unless he was sure.

  Reasonable precautions had to be taken. Carrying in rival territory was insulting, but being caught without a weapon when you needed one got you dead. He’d risk the insult. The Talons had operated in the area for forty years and had been under his leadership for a decade. He could handle what they’d throw at him. He’d pulled the Talons out from the fire when he was
sixteen years old and had led the club since that day. One upstart group of pussies with bikes wasn’t going to shake him.

  He settled his weapon in the holder, then tossed a jacket over it. He’d had a few of them tailored so that the weapon didn’t show. Buzz, one of the guys who’d been in the club back when Jacob’s father was VP, was actually a wizard with a needle and thread. He’d designed the club patch and made sure to attach it to all the leathers the club gave out. He did it without splitting the leather, too, which was a trick few guys could manage. Something about the needles he used, Buzz said. Jacob hadn’t known there were types.

  He and a group of Talons were heading to the Weapons’ hideaway tonight. It wasn’t their main clubhouse, he knew that much, but it was another building in their territory. Rumors said that the building was where they conducted some of their dirtier dealings. They ran some sort of whorehouse, he’d heard. Tonight, they were auctioning off girls to the men of the local clubs as some sort of fundraiser. He and the Talons were attending, to make sure things were on the up and up. There was an awfully big difference between a woman who chose to make her living with her legs spread and a woman who was bound and gagged and drugged and forced to make that choice. One, he awfully enjoyed. The other, well… The Weapons were spoiling for a fight; he’d seen the signs more than once. If he found out they were kidnapping girls, he’d make sure they got one. The sort that came on hard and fast and left nothing behind but tumbleweeds.

  If the girls were good-looking, he’d consider buying a few for the club over the weekend. His own men were getting antsy; a bunch of the club girls had moved on recently, getting married or settling down with particular guys, or just getting tired of riding clubmen. No hard feelings on the choice, but Jacob also needed to make sure his boys were provided for. When the clubs in the area auctioned off girls, the flesh was drawn from local sex workers and the club’s own girls, those who wanted to make a little extra cash on the side. The standard deal was simple. The girl would spread her legs for every man who wanted her for two days. Lots of them would give her hefty tips – if she were good at sucking cock or begging for more between her legs. Snake-eye, Jacob’s VP, was known to give a grand to any girl who’d take it up the ass from him. After two days, she could do what she wanted. If she’d enjoyed herself and wanted to be one of the club girls and keep on being available, though on a less arduous schedule, she could do that; if she wanted to move on and keep on, there was no harm done.

  A few girls he’d seen over the years were neither sex workers nor interested in joining clubs or finding a biker to keep them riding leather. Some were girls with bills to pay. Maybe Daddy owed a loan shark, maybe she needed to pay off her college debt, maybe she had some other obligation she had to meet. Those were Jacob’s favorites. God, his cock swelled a little just thinking about those sweet things, those girls who thought they knew what they were getting into, who loved the first man or two who came through their door, but by the time the night was wearing on, they started to hurt a little. A little more.

  When Jacob came through that door, fully hard and already stroking, more than one girl had started to cry. His cock was thick and heavy and long, and not every girl could take him. He did love making them try.

  He’d never bothered with a girl more than once. It was that look of shock on their faces that did him in. Sometimes awe, sometimes fear, sometimes unadulterated lust. He didn’t care which emotion drove the expression; the widening of the eyes and the drop of the jaw was the best kind of cock worship he’d ever imagined. Everything after that was just fun.

  Every once in a while, very rarely, he saw one of those girls who was pretty and sweet and went in first. He had a good eye; he could tell the kinky size queens from the others quickly and accurately. The kind of girl who liked it when he fucked her before she was wet enough, when he twisted her nipples and pushed her into a position where he was fucking her far too deep. The kind of girl who hissed out, “Yes, thank you, yes,” when he’d spilled his first load into her greedy cunt and was still hard.

  Maybe tonight, he’d see one of those girls. It had been a long time since he’d had a girl worth his time.

  Snake-eye came up as Jacob settled his leather in place. “’Bout ready, boss?”

  It always made Jacob chuckle; Snake-eye was twice his age. The one-eyed man had been calling Jacob “boss” since the day he’d been officially patched as president. In those early days, when Jacob had been leading based on his father’s reputation and not yet his own, Snake-eye had been absolutely vicious in his defense. He was a big part of why the club had lasted, instead of falling into disarray or twisting into a dark direction that Jacob’s father, Eddie, would have hated.

  “About,” Jacob replied. “Who’s coming with us tonight?”

  “Tools, Alex, Chandler, Bastard, and Patriot.”

  “‘The Magnificent Seven’,” Jacob said with a grin. “I like it.”

  “Thought you would.” Snake-eye took a long pause as he unlocked his own gun box, holstered his weapons, and made sure they were just visible enough. The VP of the club could be packing – was even expected to be, in a situation like this. It was Jacob who had to be squeaky clean. “The boys want to know if we’re shopping tonight,” Snake-eye said, his roundabout way of asking a question.

  Jacob shrugged. “Browsing, more like. If we see something we like, we’ll bring it back. But that’s not why we’re heading out.”

  “Got it.”

  “Everyone meets me outside in five.” Jacob tugged his jacket one more time, making sure the fit was just right.

  “We’ll see you there, boss.”

  Jacob smiled to himself. He hoped they would find the kind of girl he was craving tonight. His cock wasn’t settling down, and he wanted somewhere to slam it home.

  Chapter Three

  Laurie

  Laurie came around with a ringing slap to her face. She cried out, tried to bring up her hands to cover her face, and then cried out again as the zip ties cut into her flesh.

  “Fucking stop it,” she heard someone growl out. “You think we’re going to get top dollar for them if they’re all bruised up?”

  “Bitch wouldn’t wake up,” came the answering voice. The first voice was a deep, thick rumble; the second was higher pitched and sharper.

  “That’s because you gave her a goddamn concussion tossing her in the van. Idiot.”

  Laurie opened her eyes, was nauseated by the amount of light shining in, and closed them again. She kept them closed as someone rolled her over, sawed through the zip ties, and then sat her up. Her back was propped up against something solid. A wall, a door, a box? She didn’t know. She brought her hands around to the front and started trying to rub the blood back into them. Everything from her shoulders to her fingers started to sting as the blood returned to her flesh. It took some time, but she managed to get her eyes open.

  “Here you go,” said the deeper voice. It belonged to a man who was too short and too fat to have been the one who grabbed her out of her car. His hair was buzzed short over his head, but she was pretty sure it was salt and pepper. His eyes weren’t kind, but they weren’t cruel. He held out a handful of pills.

  “No,” Laurie said, pushing herself away. Any movement made her head feel like it was going to explode.

  She knew what had happened. This was some kind of sex ring. They had always existed in the city, primarily preying on kids of color who had run away from home for whatever reason, but that didn’t mean they didn’t like the occasional white girl when they could get one. Girls were drugged, shackled, and forced into a kind of slavery, used until they died. If they were going to hurt her like this, she wasn’t going to take it lying down.

  The man’s face seemed confused for just a minute, and then he laughed. “It’s just ibuprofen. You hit your head pretty hard, and I’m guessing it hurts. Can’t have the prettiest girl on the catwalk wincing because of a little boo-boo, can I?” He pinched her cheek, and she wished deat
h on him.

  “You can’t make me do anything—”

  All the light and humor faded out of the man’s voice in a heartbeat. “That’s where you’re wrong, little girl. Incredibly wrong. You see, you have two choices right now. You can take the medicine, put on a pretty dress and some heels, do your makeup, and be a good little toy out on that stage. You can get yourself bought, and you can earn me some cash in the meantime. You do what the buyer wants, and when they let you go, you’re back on your own. You’ll never hear from me again.” He patted her cheek, and that awful smile came back. “Or you can be a bad girl, and bad girls get chained to beds until they’re broken, and then they’re thrown out. You understand me?”

  Laurie’s stomach twisted with fear, but her heart grabbed onto what he’d said. There was a way out. If she got herself bought, if she did what she was told for just a little bit, she’d get out of the darkness and go back to her life. She’d shut out memories before; this could be one bad weekend, like a bad trip to Vegas with girlfriends. She could do this.