Ride or Die #2: A Devil's Highwaymen MC Novel Page 3

  Because where Dom was concerned, I was always powerless to fight against him.

  Eventually midnight came and I pulled out of his embrace, his heavy arms which had somehow found their way around my shoulders and pulled me against his chest. I put down my empty bottle; the label was picked off and was now a tiny pile of ruined paper on my lap. I scooped up the mess and put it on the coffee table next to where his feet rested and then I turned to him. His eyebrows furrowed as he waited for me to speak, his gray eyes washing over my features like he was seeing me for the first time all over again.

  I had so many things I wanted to say to this man. This man who was my everything. Both my maker and my destroyer, and now my savior, all rolled into one. But I said none of the things I wanted to say. Instead I smiled and stood up, and he craned his neck to watch me.

  “I’m going to bed. Will I see you in the morning?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to push him too much.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and continued to look up at me, his soft gray eyes holding me hostage for the longest time before he shook his head and spoke. “No, I’ll be up early, heading out of town. Club business,” he explained with a shrug.

  I nodded again and stepped toward the door. “Okay, well, be safe.” I hesitated in the doorway before turning back to him. “Am I okay to stay here for a little longer? Just until I figure things out?”

  Dom frowned harder and then he put his empty beer bottle down next to mine. He stood up before stalking purposefully toward me, making my heart flutter in my chest and my stomach clench in anticipation. His hand reached out and he cupped my face in his palm, and I resisted the urge to groan as his skin made contact with mine and the familiar shiver I got whenever he touched me rolled through my body.

  He pinned my with his gaze. “This is your home now, Red. You can stay here as long as you need. Forever, if you want.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and if I could have had one wish in that moment, it would have been that Dom leaned over and kissed me. But of course, he didn’t.

  “Your mom and dad?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Still not in the picture,” I replied.

  “Well, you got family now, you feel me?” He squeezed his eyes closed, and when he opened them the grays swam, merging together to create a beautiful storm. “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, Red. For what happened, for how I left you, but mostly for making you choose between me and them.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “That’s the best I got, okay?”

  With tears in my eyes, I nodded, forcing a grateful smile onto my face. “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Everything I’ve got—you’ve now got,” he said with finality, leaving no question of doubt between us.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d obviously worked hard to get where he was, to get the things he had, and there was no way I was taking any of it from him. It wasn’t my place to, no matter what he said. But I could also see there was no room for argument, either. Dom was stubborn, if nothing else.

  I nodded and looked away. “Goodnight.” I turned away with another awkward, forced smile.

  I was still awake when I heard Dom come upstairs an hour later. He went into his room, shutting the door behind him. And then I lay awake for hours afterwards, knowing that Dom was right next door to me.

  And that I wasn’t alone anymore.

  That I finally had a home again.

  That I was finally home, with him.

  Chapter Four:

  Dom

  Harlow was still sleeping when my alarm went off, so I left her to it. She always liked her sleep, and it looked like things hadn’t changed in that department. I grabbed my stuff and headed down the stairs, my footsteps seeming too loud in the rickety house. The house was still clean—I mean, it wasn’t like I expected some fucking aliens to come in in the night and dirty it all up again, but it still caught me by surprise.

  Place smelled nicer than it ever had, too. I’d even go so far as to walk around barefoot now—that’s how clean it seemed. I walked into the kitchen and put another wad of cash on the counter for Harlow. She’d gotten some food, but not enough to see her through for the few days I would be gone. I’d have to get a prospect come pick her up and take her to the big superstore in town to get some real groceries.

  It would raise questions—having a woman living here. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer, but it was what it was and there was no way out of it. Wasn’t like I could hide her away forever. Sooner or later a brother was going to swing by and see what was going on. Enough of them had seen her on the back of my bike, so they already knew something was up.

  I looked around once more. Couldn’t deny that I liked having someone living here, though, no matter how awkward the questions might be. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, shined it on my semi-clean tee, and then took a big bite. Yeah, it was real nice having someone living here with me, buying groceries and cooking and shit. My bedsheets never smelled so good as they did last night, and I’m pretty sure she cleaned the shower too. Don’t think that’s ever been done.

  I picked up my keys and headed to the front door, and as I stepped outside I looked back and saw Harlow standing at the top of the stairs, her long, silky legs on show. She was still wearing my T-shirt, but she’d taken off the belt, so it hung around her skinny frame like an old sheet. She pulled the look off, though. No doubt.

  I nodded to her as I turned and left, and stalked over to my bike. She’d need some clothes too, I realized. Because if she was as capable as she used to be, she’d have turned half of my T-shirts into dresses and my jeans into shorts by the time I got back. Her gran had taught her how to sew years back, and she could take any scrap of material and turn it into something she could wear. It was like watching something off a Disney movie or some crap like that.

  I got on my bike, started the engine, and headed toward the clubhouse with a million different thoughts in my head. I should have been thinking about the change in leadership, or the fact that we’d had a traitor in our midst for months. Or the fact that Hardy was now dead because he’d not only been ripping the club off for fuck knows how long, but because he’d had his own son put to ground. I should have been thinking about Jesse—Shooter, our new prez, Butch’s little brother. Or the shitstorm that was about to hit our club if we didn’t sort out this mess with the Razorbacks and the Reverend.

  But I couldn’t think about anything but Harlow. She consumed my thoughts in a way only one other person ever had—Butch.

  The three of us were connected, we always had been, and even now with Butch six feet under, we still were.

  I pulled into the clubhouse and parked my bike, noticing how busy the place had gotten. The garage was closed for now, at least until this shit was sorted out, but that didn’t stop people from trying to get in. Two prospects stood guard at the gate, turning away potential customers and keeping watch for any bad blood heading our way.

  Across the lot, I saw Silvie dragging some stuff into one of the trailers we had set up. There were four in all, none of them pretty, but all of them sturdy enough. We kept them for when nomads or other clubs showed up needing somewhere to crash, but they weren’t supposed to be a full-time gig.

  Silvie looked like she’d been crying—her face was red and puffy, her normally shiny hair tied back into a messy bun. Couldn’t really blame her for being so broken up. Not only had she just found out about the shit Hardy had been pulling, but she’d likely learned the truth about Butch. Woman loved Butch and Jesse like her own sons, but she also loved Hardy. What did it mean that Jesse had let her stay on the club grounds and not ended her?

  She dropped the heavy bag she was dragging and swung open the door to one of the nicest trailers before reaching back down to pick up the bag and drag it inside. I stood watching her, wanting to go and help but also not being able to. A dark part of me feared that if she knew anything about what Hardy had been up to, I’d ram the barrel of my gun down her throat and blow her br
ains away without a second thought. The “Dom” part of me didn’t believe she would have had anything to do with this. But loyalty is a double-edged sword.

  As if sensing that I was watching, Silvie looked across at me. She held my stare for several seconds before looking away and continuing to drag her stuff inside.

  I shook my head, lit a smoke, and headed into the clubhouse to attend Church.

  Inside it was bustling. Bikers, old ladies, little brats all running around causing mayhem with their high-pitched squeals. It was a sound that made me smile because it reminded me of home. Coming from a family of eight, my house had always been busy and noisy. Fuck, was it noisy. Always someone crying. Always someone arguing. Always something cooking. Fucking loved it like that. It was why I struggled so much at my house—it was too damn quiet for my liking.

  “Dom,” Rider said, striding toward me. His arm was in a sling, and he saw my gaze and gave me a grimace. “Fuckin’ out of the game, for now at least. Motherfucker put a hole right through me, but it skimmed important shit, or somethin’,” he said with a shake of his head. “Arm’s all fucked up for now, though.”

  “I’m sorry, brother. Least they’re both with Hades now,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

  “Don’t mean shit to me. They may be dead, but the fucking legacy they’ve left us with ain’t good. We’re heading to Church to talk this shit out. We need a game plan, ASAP. Shit’s dangerous out there right now. One of the prospects got followed last night. Little punk gave the pigs a long ride out to nowhere and back again,” Rider laughed.

  He was normally a quiet man, didn’t really say much unless he felt it needed saying, and this was probably the most he’d spoken in months. He was VP, and one scary motherfucker when he was pissed off. Man of very few words but very strong actions. But when he wasn’t pissed off, he had a heart of gold and would cut out his own kidney to help you if he could. His wife Charlie was a crazy bitch who never knew when to shut her mouth. Probably why they suited each other so well.

  As if speaking of the devil, Charlie threaded through the crowd toward us before coming to stand by Rider’s side. She slid her arm around his waist and looked up at him.

  “You need to rest, baby,” she said in an unusually gentle voice. He grunted his reply and she scowled.

  Charlie and Rider were each other’s opposite. Where Rider was quiet and dangerous, Charlie was loud as fuck but equally as dangerous. Heard a story once that she cut off her ex’s dick because she thought he was cheating on her. Apparently she still had that dick somewhere as a reminder to Rider to never fuck around on her. And the ex? He never did cheat on her.

  I subconsciously grabbed my crotch and rearranged my junk.

  She tore her gaze away from Rider and glanced at me. “I hope you’re not stressing him out.”

  I held up my hands. “Just talkin’ to the man.”

  “My man.”

  “Your man,” I agreed and slowly backed away.

  “I gotta get to Church. Make sure everyone is okay out here,” Rider said, slapping her ass as he walked away from her.

  He caught up to me and we walked together. “Bitch worries too much,” he grumbled, but it was obvious he fucking loved it.

  “Bitch scares me,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Fuckin’ scares me too.”

  The Chapel was full of brothers from all over, and I shook hands with a couple of them and then took a seat at the far end of the table near Casa.

  “All right,” he said, shaking my hand as I sat down. “How’s the bitch?”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him for explanation, because I had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

  “The piece of ass you brought back from the Bangers’ place. Bitch looked tight, am I right? You need me to help keep her company?”

  Not sure which comment made me see red—perhaps it was a combination of all of it—but the next thing I knew I had my hands wrapped around Casa’s throat and I was dragging him from his chair. Brothers grabbed me from behind to try and pull me off of him, but the cocky fucking smirk on his face gave me almost superhero strength. Casa kicked out, his boot catching me in the shin by surprise, and I jerked back to avoid another one and he slid out from underneath me. His stupid fucking hat fell from his head and he bounced on the balls of his feet and raised his arms.

  “All right, old man, bring it!” he laughed, unfazed by the rage that poured from me. Acted like this was a big fucking game and not me trying to kill him.

  “You don’t fuckin’ talk about her that way!” I roared.

  He laughed again. “The little red pussycat?” He licked across his lower lip. “All right, all right, you don’t wanna share. I feel you. That’s all you had to say. I thought you were bringing her back for the club, not for personal use.” He laughed again and I lunged for him.

  “It ain’t like that,” I yelled.

  “So, she is free game then?”

  “I’m gonna rip your motherfucking head off, Casa. Say one more fucking word, brother. I fucking dare you!” Gauge and Axle each had ahold of one of my arms and were stopping me from diving at Casa again.

  “Enough!” Shooter barked out, slamming his fist on the table and making us all stop what we were doing and look at him. “Acting like a couple of fuckin’ pussies, both of you. Casa, the sweetbutt is off limits. Dom, chill the fuck out.”

  “She off limits just to me, or to anyone?” Casa mocked before grabbing his hat up off the floor.

  “I’ll personally rip the dick off any brother who touches her,” I argued. “That fuckin’ clear enough?”

  “Crystal, brother. Calm down before you pop a motherfucking vein!” Casa taunted, and picked up his fallen seat before sitting down on it as if nothing had just happened. “Phew! That was intense!” he laughed.

  I panted hard, my chest heaving, my anger still raw and vicious. I wanted to kill him. Brother needed to learn when to shut his mouth.

  “Sit the fuck down, Dom, we got important shit that doesn’t include your piece of ass to discuss,” Shooter said from the other end of the table.

  I nodded and sat back down next to Casa. Still wanted to kill the cocky little fucker, but Shooter was right—we had important shit to sort out.

  Shooter picked up the gavel and slammed it down. “You all know the new changes in place, and you all know what went down. I don’t think I need to discuss that shitstorm any more than we have. But we do need to sort out what we’re going to do about the Reverend and the Razorbacks.”

  “Not to mention it’s Skinny’s trial soon,” Pops cut in. “Brother’s locked up because of Hardy’s doin’. We need to do what we can for him while he’s inside.”

  “I got that handled,” Gauge cut in. “Couple of old-timers are still serving from way back. They’re watching his back for now, and I spoke to Beefcake this morning. He’s pulled in some favors and got a brother that was serving in another pen transferring over so Skinny ain’t on his own. And I’ve got the DA already working on his case. He’s covered.”

  Shooter nodded and stroked a hand down his beard. Looked like he’d aged twenty years overnight “All right, decision time…Which one’s gonna’ be first? The Reverend or the Razorbacks?”

  “To put to ground?” Casa asked, cocking his head. “I’d like to take out some little piggies, sooner rather than later.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “Going to war with the Reverend is likely to cause a war that I’m not sure we’d win right now. The Razorbacks are protected, though—I mean, they’re the fuckin’ police—but I’m with Casa on this one. Shit’s not going to be simple, but it needs to be done.” Gauge leaned back in his chair, his dark gaze roaming around the table. “Besides, I think we owe it to Skinny, since it was those fuckers that took him down.”

  Everyone nodded and muttered in agreement.

  “So, the Razorbacks it is,” Shooter said with a heavy frown. It was obvious he didn’t agree, but that was because his heart was hurtin
g. His head had to know it was the right decision. “Once they fall, we’ll deal with the Reverend and his boys. He’ll have lost half of his protection, so I guess it’ll be easier—but we’ll need to get some other clubs onside if this is going to work.”

  “What are we doing about Silvie?” Axle asked. “Hate to be the one to offer, but do you want me to take her out and bury her? I’ll make it quick and painless.”

  I stared at Shooter, wondering how deep his hatred ran and how far he was willing to go for the sake of his pride. I hated hearing Axle talking about Silvie like that, but I also couldn’t blame him. These were testing times, and we had no idea how much she was aware of when it came to Hardy.

  Women and children, civilians and such, they were always kept out of club business, but I also knew that some of the shit we had to do was bad. More than bad. It was pure evil. And even the devil needed a shoulder to cry on every once in a while.

  “Silvie is off limits,” Shooter finally said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Anyone touch her, and they have me to answer to. For now, she’s staying in one of the trailers in the yard. She knows not to leave—there’s more things I need to discuss with her. I need to make sure she’s clean before we decide if she can leave or not. But if you see her out and about, and she don’t have a good reason to be, you gut the bitch.”

  I frowned on his last words, hardly recognizing the man he was becoming. Silvie was like a mother to him, and the more I thought about it, the more I trusted that she hadn’t known anything. Deep down, he must have felt the same way or she wouldn’t still be alive at all. But to let her stay, to keep her basically trapped in her trailer, that was fucked up. Especially since he’d basically just put a bullseye on her forehead.

  Shooter looked around the room. “We’ve got a lot of work to do in not a lot of time, brothers. I want Gauge and Dom heading to Savannah to speak to the Burning Eights. I need them on board—their prez was pretty tight with Butch so he shouldn’t be a problem, but a house call will do all the good. Axle, Cutter, and I are heading over to see the Pagan’s Outlaws. Twitch’s loyalty lies with who offers the most to him, so I need to go and broker that deal before someone else does.”