One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1) (10 page)

BOOK: One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1)
5.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Two-Years-Later

PRESENT DAY

 

My first time in Westbeach, California was eventful. I met the whole band of Twisted Transistor and got on really well with their drummer, Tommy. I got a reference from him to call into a place called
New Home.
It’s like foster care, only these ladies started it free, because they genuinely care about these kids and I was grateful for them to take me on. I decided to start full time and hang back on my design work for now. Money isn’t tight because of my aunt’s estate, so I don’t need to work for money, I’d rather spend my time at the home helping the kids. They age from six months old to fourteen, and we currently have twelve in residence at the moment. And although some are troubled, they’re all special in different ways and will always hold a special place in my heart.

I’ve been staying in Westbeach since I took on the job. I love it here and have a cute little apartment by the beach. After that incident with Phoebe almost running the Oakley brother off the road, she had a hot affair with the other brother, Ryder. But it had ended there until she found out that not only was she touring around the world with Alyx Munroe,
pop princess
, to organize her closet, but also with Twisted Transistor. She’s due home this week after a string of events. We’ve all been keeping an eye on her through the E! Channel and it’s safe to say that at the moment, Ryder Oakley is one very hated man.

I’m walking down the street to meet Melissa at her little boutique bakery she opened in town. It’s called
Eat Me
. Yeah, somehow, knowing that this is Melissa, that name has a double meaning. Melissa and I have become close since I moved to Westbeach. Also with Phoebe out and about, we’ve leaned on each other a lot.

Pushing open the big silver doors I walk in, the little bell sounding off above my head.

“Hey, girl, how have you been?” she yells from behind her counter.

“I’ve been good. I thought I’d check in and see how you are today. I promised I’d pick up some cream donuts for the kids, too. You know how much they love them.”

She waves her hand. “Of course!” As she busies herself with putting the cream donuts into a box.

“Have you heard from Phoebe?” Melissa asks, peeking up at me in between dusted sugar donuts.

“No. Not since I called her last week to spill the beans about what’s going on back here. She said that the Sinful Souls don’t have a chapter in Las Vegas.” I take a cookie out of one of the jars she has sitting on the counter beside the cash machine and bite into the chewy, warm goodness. I close my eyes slowly, a moan slipping my lips as I wipe my finger across my bottom lip. “That’s seriously so good. How are you still single?”

She rolls her eyes. “Because I haven’t found my
one
. Anyway, I might give her a call.”

I nod my head, taking another bite when the television in the background catches my attention.

 

“Phoebe Rendon has been seen leaving a hotel in New York City in tears. Oh no, trouble in paradise? Or has Ryder Oakley finally woken up to realize he needed to take the trash out early.”

 

I drop my cookie, rubbing my hands together to dust off the crumbs. “Bitch,” I scoff under my breath.

Melissa’s shocked face meets mine. “Did you just cuss?”

“I always cuss!”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t.
Shit.
We need to call her.” She removes her apron from around her waist and places it on the counter before dialing her number. Lifting her phone to her ear but dropping it after a few seconds of no-one answering. “Fuck!”

“Let me try,” I answer, pulling my phone out and dialing her number.

“I’m burning rubber. Leave me a message.”
Her voice vibrates through my ears causing a smile to slip onto my lips. I miss this girl entirely too much.

I shake my head. “Nope, not picking up.”

“Shit.” She picks up her phone again. “Wait. Blake and I… even though we’ve known each other for a long time, he doesn’t like me. You call him, I can’t be bothered dealing with him right now and he seems nice enough to you.”

Rolling my eyes, I pick up my phone and ask her for his number.

“Who’s this?” Blake growls down the phone.

“Blake?” I squeak out nervously before clearing my voice. The man gives me the heebie-jeebies. “It’s Meadow.”
There, that’s a little firmer.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Look, have you seen the news?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, the… you know… the useless news.
The Hollywood News
.”

“Should I?”

“Yes. Yes, I think you should.”

“All right. Thanks, I’ll turn it on now.”

“Okay…”

“Meadow?” He pipes in. “Keep your phone on you. I might need to call you and Melissa in at some point.”

“Call us in to where?”

“Into the clubhouse if we go into lock down. Shouldn’t… but just in case. Phoebe gave me strict orders.”

“Right. Okay. Thanks, Blake.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Hanging up my phone, I toss it back into my handbag and blow out a breath of air.

“See, I told you he tolerates you. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to him.”

Gee, I don’t know. Maybe just being Melissa would be enough to tick him off.

I love her, though.

 

Present Day

 

Seven years.
It’s been seven years since we freed Jada, and my father was stolen from me by the same people that stole my first years. I want my revenge, and I
will
get it. I’m filling up at the local gas station on the outskirts of Route 66 when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I switch hands and pull it out, holding it to my ear.

“What is it?” I answer, keeping my eyes locked on the surrounds around me. Over the years,
The Army
had only come for us once—that was after I freed Jada. It was me, my old man, Hella and Shifter. We needed to keep to low numbers. After sneaking into the joint full stealth mode, we freed her and managed to get back to a hotel. It was all celebrations and cheers for the following two weeks until we found my father with a single bullet through his brain with a note shoved into his mouth, simply reading, ‘
Don’t get comfortable, Beast. You are ours. We will come for you when we’re ready, and there will be no stopping that.’

That day shattered my inner self. Over the years leading up to then, my father and I had formed a close bond.

After Hella and I cleaned up the body of the young girl’s dad, I rode back to the clubhouse and patched in. Hella had already gotten his patch. My dad admired his loyalty toward me and could see the depths of how far that loyalty ran. I think he knew all along that I would be taking over from him as President when his fate came. It’s why he put Hella as Sergeant of Arms and me as Vice President—much to Sugar’s disgust. He got over it, after I one-outed him in the ring. Now we have a pretty solid friendship, as I do with all the boys. They’re my family now, and I will protect them and guide them to the end of my time.

“Beast, how’s your crew?” a familiar voice growls down the phone. I smile instantly knowing this fucking voice.

I lean up against my bike, placing my other hand into my jean’s pocket. “In line, how’s yours, brother?” I answer through a smile, running my hand over my still shaven head, not shaven to the skin, just a military style shave.

Zane and I have maintained a solid friendship. The Devil’s are down for the Sinful Souls, as much as they are down for the Devil’s Own. Running the Las Vegas chapter is painful, but I also stand for all chapters that are scattered all over the US—making me International President of The Devil’s Own MC. My father and his best friend Ringer were the founding brothers. Ringer is still here, and still with Bethy. He’s still patched, but he leaves everything to us young-ins. It’s a big responsibility maintaining the peace between us and other MC’s while still keeping our business flowing without any hassles. We have a relationship with the IRA (Irish Republican Army) that supply us with weapons, in return for reliable passage through every town where there’s a Devil chapter located. Which is all over the state with one chapter in Ireland and another in Australia.

“Not so inline. Between Abby and Ade, they’re both going to kill me. I need a favor.”

“Anything,” I answer with certainty because I
am
certain. I
will
do whatever I can to help out Zane where I can.

“At the moment, we’re good. But Ade just caused a shit-stir with the Russians so I might need some backup.” I inwardly cringe. The Russians are not someone you want in the enemy bed, but I agree, nonetheless.

“Yeah, for sure, just holla when you need us.”

“Thanks, brother, you’re all I have that’s close to Westbeach. I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if I need you in, that sound good?”

“Don’t mention it, or maybe I will. When I find a way you can repay me,” I chuckle down the phone.

“Anything,” he answers instantly without missing a beat.

“Just shout out when you need me,” I tell him before hanging up the phone.

If only all my relationships with other MC’s were this easy. Sadly—or not so sadly—it’s only like this with the Sinful Souls MC and the Blood Razor’s MC. Everyone else has an issue—they won’t voice it, though. Smart decision really because I have no issue starting a war to earn their respect, I think they know that.

After paying for the gas, I walk out to my bike and kick start her to life before making my way back to the compound. I own my own home now in Summerlin West. The clubhouse, which is situated on a large section of land with a built in ranch, bar, and big monster garage, is located on the north side of Las Vegas. My father and Ringer purchased it when they started the Devil’s Own. Smart decision, because we now have four separate houses which are built on the land spread out evenly and strategically too. Yes, we provide a home for those that may need it, but also to protect the clubhouse twenty-four seven. We have someone on the clock all around. It’s convenient and provides a good system. Pulling into the long dusty driveway that takes you to the clubhouse, my bike rumbles underneath me, vibrating the atmosphere with its presence. I still have the bike my dad handed to me, I also have the bike he rode that sits on a pedestal in the clubhouse—where it belongs.

Swinging my leg off my bike and removing my helmet, Frost walks out of the clubhouse with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his mousy blond hair slicked back with his long beard scratching over the collar of his cut. He looks like he just rolled out of bed—or killed someone. I wouldn’t be able to tell you which.

Lifting my chin to him, I smirk. “You’re up bright and early, princess.”

He gives me a slow chuckle. “Yeah, Sandy kept me up all night. Good fucking gap she has,” he answers, shaking his head. Sandy is one of the few sweet butts we have that hang around the club.

Laughing, I walk up the worn wooden steps. “Put your dick away, we have work to do. Where’s Hella?”

He shrugs his beefy shoulders. “He left for town this morning, hasn’t been back since.”

Pushing my hand into my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial Hella’s number.

“Sup?”

“Where are you?”

“I needed to get supplies for H2, the roof is leaking.”

H2 means house number two, it’s one of the four houses we keep on the property.

“All right. I need to run some shit past you all when you get back. Make it quick.”

Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I bring my attention back to Frost. “Church in an hour. Let everyone know.” He salutes me before butting his cigarette out under his boot and walking inside with me following closely behind.

Our clubhouse is large, but it needs to be. Our crew is quite substantially bigger than your average MC with around fifteen men, including three prospects. Walking straight toward the bar, I nudge my head up to Old Ben and pull out a barstool. Old Ben is the old fella who works behind the bar for us. He’s seventy-three years old, but the pension pays him shit so I keep him on. With just his pension, he wouldn’t have enough money for food and rent, so he lives in H3 and works behind the bar. I pay him, and he doesn’t pay anything for rent. He’s a crazy motherfucker, you don’t want to be caught walking on our turf when he’s around with a pistol in his hand.

“How’s it going old man, you good?” I ask, putting a toothpick into my mouth and scanning around the room. To be honest, our clubhouse isn’t too bad. The massive barn is equipped with the bottom level bar area which has sofas and pool tables scattered everywhere. Behind the bar’s where we hold church, and where my father’s bike sits proudly behind my seat at the head of the table. It’s all been renovated, complete with flooring and insulation.

Upstairs is one large loft that overlooks the bar the whole way around. There are many bedrooms scattered around up there too, for other activities we see fit. There’s blood on these walls that aren’t just from when I took over.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he responds, wiping the counter down with his cloth.

Taking my drink, I nod my head to him before making my way to the table where some of my men are seated. I pull out a chair and sit down before sipping my drink.

“Calling church in an hour, gives enough time for Hella to get his ass back here.”

“Anything important?” Sugar asks, rubbing his hand over his beard.

“Not at this moment. I got a call from Zane, need to run some things past you all before I place us in a situation that we probably don’t want to be placed in.”

Sugar nods his head. Sugar was here before I was, and was my father’s VP. He had issues when I came back and my dad patched me in as VP with Hella as Sergeant of Arms, but after a round in the ring, we sorted it out and the top dog came out on top. With that being said, Sugar is one trustworthy motherfucker. I trust all my brothers, they wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But I trust Sugar just below Hella.

Hella comes through the barn doors with a hand full of tools hanging from his arms and a cheesy grin on his face. I shake my head and point to all the shit around him. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s the shit I need to fix the roof!”

“What? You a builder now? Killing not enough for you?” I ask under a chuckle.

He flips me off, dropping the rest of the items onto the ground. “What’s the rush anyway, I was going to call into
Red Moon
,” he replies with a smirk.

“Leave the girls alone, Hella.”

“Hey…” he throws his hands up making his way to us, “…it’s not my fault only a whore can handle my cock.”

“Jesus,” I laugh, standing from the table.

Red Moon
is a business we own but have one of the girls run it for us. Shelby is good at what she does, but if she could keep her hands off my cock she’d be better. Not that I haven’t passed her up a few times, but she doesn’t do it for me on any other level apart from making my dick hard enough to come.

“Church,
now.
” I push my seat back and make my way to the back of the bar with Hella hot on my tail.

Walking through the iron doors, I step around the long rectangular table that has our emblem carved into the metal, a skull wearing a hoodie, smirking over his shoulder throwing up a full house. That’s what’s on our colors.

I smirk at my dad’s bike before pulling my seat out at the head of the table. Having his bike behind me in this room was my decision. It preserved his presence and position in this club and made me feel like his presence is always here.

I flick my lighter between my fingers, watching as Sugar blazes up a joint on my left side and Hella sitting opposite him on my right, having a few tokes before handing it to me. I take it, placing it in my mouth and taking a long pull.

“The reason I called this…” I blow out the smoke I was holding and pass it to Hella, “…is I got a phone call from Zane Mathews, the President of the Sinful Souls MC in Westbeach. He might need a favor soon. He was asking if we have his back. One of his guys has ruffled up some Russian’s feathers, he might need some reinforcements. Now… I know it sounds bad, but the Sinful Souls are our brothers. They may not be by patch, but by choice. However, if anyone’s not right with this voice your opinion now, we’ll take it to vote.”

“Fuck. This doesn’t sound good,” Nyx voices from down the table, leaning back into his seat.

“Proceed,” I wave my hand out while flicking the lighter between my fingers.

“Well… Russians. That’s why.” He shakes his head, before leaning onto his elbows on the table. “I get it, they’ve always made it clear that they would throw one down for us, but we gotta be smart here, and I don’t know… getting into the enemy bed with the Russians is not how I wanted to spend my Sunday afternoon.” He takes the joint off Toke who’s sitting next to him. An agreed grunt comes from across the table.

“I agree with Nyx. I don’t like it. Little things, yeah, but this? This sounds big,” Flicker adds.

“Anyone else have an opinion?” I ask around the table.

A chuckle sets off beside Hella and I don’t have to look to know who it is. “You with us on this, Hannibal?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m with you. Getting a bit quiet around here. Need to fuck some shit up.”

I shake my head around a smirk before picking up the gavel. “Who’s with me?” A sound of yays sound off around the table with two nays.

“Out-voted, we ride with them.” I slam the gavel down before throwing it back onto the table.

Everyone stands and I bring my eyes up to the two who voted nay. “Nyx, Flicker, sit.” I point my head back down to their seats. They look between each other before sitting back down.

Once everyone has cleared out, I bring my elbows to the table. “I don’t like any of my brothers feeling like their opinion doesn’t matter. However, I need you to trust my decision, as your president and as your brother.”

“I trust your decision, Beast. I’m just not convinced it’s the right one. But I will ride, of course, no matter what.”

I nod my head at Nyx. He’s smart, he’s young but he’s smart.

Pushing my chair back, I stand from the table. “Let’s go, I need a drink.”

Walking back out to the bar, Shelby’s sitting at the bar sipping her drink. And with Hella getting his cock ground on by Emma—I see she didn’t come alone. She must be his flavor of the week. I walk to Shelby, pulling a stool out. Her head doesn’t move but an eyebrow arches as she turns her beer around in her hand.

“What can I do for you, Shelby?” I signal to the old fella to get me a drink.

BOOK: One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1)
5.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Dark Guardian by Christine Feehan
The haunted hound; by White, Robb, 1909-1990
Mind Switch by Lorne L. Bentley
The Color of Freedom by Isenhoff, Michelle
Blue Moon by Isobel Bird