Devil's Girl: Dust Bowl Devils MC Read online

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Other Works

  I toyed idly with my dark brown hair and tried not to think about what a hot day it was as the motorcycle roared into the parking lot, spitting gravel as it slid to a halt. I sat on the bench outside the MC clubhouse bar. It was my smoke break, and even though I'd quit smoking, I still took the break.

  "Call it a sun break, then," I'd shouted when Irish the bartender had tried to inform me that smoke breaks didn't work that way. He wasn’t going to argue much. I was barely an employee, and besides, I knew just how he liked his dick sucked. I had the skinny dude wrapped around my finger.

  "Ivy! Got a new girl for you!"

  "I ain't in charge, she ain't my girl." I stood as the biker, Mort, dismounted and helped his ladyfriend down from the seat behind him. Yet another blond, with big eyes, bigger tits, and long legs wobbled after him in her super short shorts. So many blonds. Her tight white t-shirt was rumpled - no doubt thanks to Mort himself. The girl wore no bra and her nipples were dark shadows beneath the thin material.

  Mort scratched his short beard as he approached. “You look nice today.”

  I scoffed. “Who’s your friend?”

  “I picked her up at a gas station back on the highway.” That wasn’t what I’d asked. Mort had forgotten the girl’s name. Unsurprising. “You’ll be here tonight?”

  “Probably. Something going down?”

  He winked. “Hopefully one of you. Or both of you!” He laughed at his own joke.

  I smiled back. Mort was nice enough, as bikers went. Too nice for me. He had a short, neatly trimmed red beard and while he wasn’t very tall, he was broad. Stocky. Some girl would be lucky to be his old lady. Maybe it would be this new blond. The way he was ignoring her though said that it wasn’t likely. “Really, Mort, is there a meeting or something?”

  “Yeah. So be here.” He turned and as he passed the girl, he slapped her on the ass. The crack echoed through the parking lot. She jumped with a little yelp, then giggled. “Later, sugar.”

  We both stood and watched as he mounted his bike and, with a roar, drove back to the road.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She looked me up and down with an appraising eye; she popped her gum, tossed her long hair, and finally answered, “Dawn. You?”

  “I’m Ivy.” I was only twenty-three, but these girls the bikers brought back made me feel downright old. Fresh-faced eighteen and nineteen year olds, finally free of parents and high schools, running wild. Sometimes we got a college girl passing through just looking for a taste of adventure and danger. More often, these girls were broke, drug addicted, fleeing abusive homes or boyfriends, or any other number of unhappy stories.

  This Dawn looked like the usual. A young woman thinking she’d found a good place to settle for a while; Mort had probably promised her money for “helping out.” Once she realized what it really entailed, she’d talk herself into doing it because she needed the cash. But she wouldn’t last very long. The guys would turn out to be rougher than she expected. Much rougher. Whatever boyfriend she’d fled would look like a puppy next to them. One slap, one insult, one degrading sex act too many, and she’d be hitchhiking out before anyone could learn her name.

  I led her inside by the hand. “We’ll be best friends in no time,” I said, smiling over the lie.

  “I’ll bet,” she said. Our heels clicked in unison as we entered the front room bar. It wasn’t much to look at - there was the bar itself, a row of tables, and a row of booths when you stepped inside. Along the front wall was a space with two pool tables and a few more stools. And that was it.

  “The bar’s open to the public. Everyone from town comes in here.” I pointed at the bartender. “That’s Irish.” He tipped his baseball cap at her, then turned his attention back to the baseball game playing on the old tube television mounted above the bar. “This place could use an update,” I said.

  Dawn shrugged. Okay, I see how it is. She was going for the tough girl thing. That would crack later, when the guys came in. The only way for me to deal with it, though, was to be overly polite.

  “The club’s meeting room is in the back,” I said, pointing at the door at the end of the room. “I can’t take you in there, but one of the guys can. Sometimes we’ll run drinks in but only if they say so and only if they let you specifically. So no wandering. There’s some offices and spare rooms back there, too.” I pointed out the bathrooms and the kitchen doors (where we weren’t allowed either, unless the waitresses were swamped), then ordered us burgers and fries.

  “Usually I’m pretty bored when the guys ain’t around,” I told her, sliding into a booth. She took the seat across from me and continued to eye the bar. Her big white purse hit the table with a thud.

  “Thanks for being nice to me,” she said. “Mort said there’s work?”

  “Sort of.” I shrugged. “They don’t need any waitresses right now, so we just do odd jobs. Whatever the guys need.”

  “The bikers? Like Mort?”

  “Yup. The club.”

  She finally met my eyes. Her own glinted with excitement. “Whatever they want?”

  “You’re catching on, girly. You’re on protection, right?”

  “Duh.” Popping her gum, she dug into her purse. “Well, if we’re not officially on any clock then, we ought to pass the time somehow. Want to play cards?”

  I perked up. “Sure!” I wondered if maybe I’d judged this one too quickly; maybe she’d stick around, and we’d be friends after all.

  We must have played gin rummy for almost an hour before Nella arrived. She was the general manager of the bar and clubhouse, and an old biker bitch like me. When Dawn had been dropped off, she became one of Nella’s girls, not mine. I explained this to her as she popped her gum and shuffled the cards.

  “I hear there’s a meeting tonight?” I asked Nella as she collected a stack of cash from the safe beneath the register.

  “Yeah,” she said, “I talked to Mort. So get yourself prettied up. New girl, too. They’ll all be here.”

  The whole club. We’d undoubtedly be needed to run food and drinks and special favors. It would be a good night for tips. I grinned at Dawn. “You’ll make a little money tonight, babe. I’m gonna run home and get changed. You hang out here and do whatever Nella tells you.”

  I returned before sundown, wearing a bright pink tube top and a dark denim miniskirt. It was just on the wrong side of trashy, but hell, it made me feel sexy. I parked my beat up old pickup truck behind the building. Only a couple motorcycles were parked out front, so I hadn't missed much while I was busy putting on makeup and watching talk shows.

  I sat next to Dawn on a stool as Nella tended the bar. Irish - just a young Prospect himself - has been invited to attend the meeting, so she would take over until he returned.

  We watched the club members walk in, their black leather cuts immaculate and well-fitted as always. They all had the club colors: the horned devil skull in the middle of a dust cloud, death’s scythe in the background, set below the club name - Dust Bowl Devils. I pointed out the members to Dawn as they arrived, and introduced her to any that showed interest. There was B
ill, the new president. His son, the serious and quiet young man ironically nicknamed Jester. Mort appeared, winking at both of us as he passed through to the back room, followed by the intimidatingly good-looking Gunner.

  "He's hot," Dawn commented as he passed, his thick shoulder muscles drawing our eyes like magnets.

  "Yeah. He's trouble. But he is hot." I'd been with Gunner enough times to know that he was not for beginners. Many a new girl had fled after a little alone time with him.

  Then the vice president Bars arrived with a stranger in tow. The new guy was big - really big. Like, wrestler or boxer or lumberjack big. I didn't get a good look at his face beneath his sunglasses, but I was way too distracted by his sheer size, anyway.

  "Who's he?" Dawn asked, awe in her voice. "I like him."

  "Don't know." He wore the Dust Bowl Devils colors, but I did notice a slight difference on his cut - where our guys had a patch that said "OC" for Original Chapter, his said "PA." Pennsylvania? "I don't think he's from around here."

  Old man Anchor was the last to appear. Nomad, the former club president, was away on some other business, but otherwise that was everybody.

  Once they’d shut the door behind them, Dawn turned to Nella. “So how does getting paid work?”

  “I’ll tip you out at the end of the night.”

  “Oh. I thought the guys paid us. Or tipped us.”

  “No,” Nella and I both said at the same time, then Nella continued, “They tip me and then I tip you. You’re an entertainer and I’m your manager. You get what I'm saying?"

  "I got it," Dawn said. A feral grin spread across her face. "We ain't whores if we're getting paid in tips at the end of the night."

  I sighed. We weren't whores because we were getting paid for "promotional purposes." We helped with odd jobs, brought in customers, and kept them there. But Dawn was close enough.

  Nella didn’t think of it that way, though. She placed her palms on the bar and gave Dawn a serious look. “Honey, we don’t say that word around here.”

  Dawn blinked. “Okay.”

  It was a brief meeting, and we wondered what it might be about while we waited. "About me," Dawn joked, flipping her hair, "They're fighting over who gets to have me first."

  "Naw. Maybe they're making Irish a full member, finally," I said. The young bartender wasn't all that young anymore - he had been a Prospect for three years already.

  "Don't be silly, it’s probably got something to do with that stranger," Nella said. For once the older woman joined in the conversation instead of studying her ledger or the receipts.

  Other girls arrived as well as news of the meeting spread. Only a couple of the guys were married, and their wives showed up. Some girls from the town appeared, too, looking for thrills. It was quite a social event and I was excited to be part of it.

  "Do these girls get tips, too?" Dawn asked, referencing a table of young women giggling around a table covered in pitchers of beer and chicken wings.

  "No, they're just here to flirt and party."

  She leaned in. "Are they competition?"

  I laughed. "No. You're taking this too serious! Just have fun, ask the guys if they need anything, and stick around 'til closing. That's the only rules if you wanna earn some cash."

  "Okay." She sounded doubtful, but she'd learn. Or leave.

  When the guys finally emerged, they dispersed around the bar, finding friends and family, but they stood out no matter where they went in their uniform black leather. Irish took his spot behind the bar, and I hopped down from my stool and sauntered up to the jukebox.

  "Give us something good, Ivy," Irish called as he started pouring beers. He always activated the free access when I wanted to line up some tracks. It was one of the perks.

  I selected a T. Rex song - Slider. Not a favorite of any of the guys, but I could sure sway my hips to it, and that was what I was after - an excuse to sway my hips. The music played just loud enough to hear over the voices and laughter of the patrons and the clack of the balls on the pool tables. I sashayed my way around the bar, greeting the bikers and their families. I laid a hand on Bill's shoulder and asked, "Having a good time? Anything I can get you?"

  "We're good, Ivy." Bill shared the small table with Veronica, Mort, and Jester. Veronica worked for Bill at the diner he owned. They were sort of almost an item, but that didn't stop the club president from visiting me from time to time. "Make sure our guest is entertained." He pointed at the stranger, now seated at the bar, speaking to Gunner and Irish. "His name's Theo."

  "No problem," I said with a smile. Don't mind if I do. Even from behind, the view of his broad shoulders was enticing.

  Dawn beat me to the bar, though. She squeezed her way between Gunner and Theo and was trying to flirt with both of them. Gunner looked amused.

  "New girl here says she's working for Nella?" Gunner asked. I stood near Theo's side.

  "Yeah," I said, shifting slightly with the music, "You like her?"

  Gunner looked at her and shrugged. "She's all right."

  "Are you two boys having a good time?" I laid a hand on Theo's thick shoulder. "Can I get you anything?"

  Finally he turned and I got a good look at his face. My breath caught. He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen in person. The only place a face like that belongs is on film. His dark hair was shaggy and tousled, probably from wearing a helmet, but looked so soft I just wanted to bury my hands on it. His strong jaw was covered in dark stubble. It looked like it has been a few days since he'd last shaved, but the look wasn't sloppy on him - it just made him look rugged.

  He regarded me with deep brown eyes that seemed to see everything, making me feel unbearably exposed. I crossed my arms over my chest as I waited for his answer. Wait, what did I just ask? "I'm good." His voice was a deep rumble. I could nearly feel it in my toes.

  "Yeah, good-looking," I blurted. Something like amusement crossed his face, but it quickly slid away. Gunner snorted. "Seriously! Doesn't his face belong in the movies or something?"

  "Aww, don't tease him," Dawn said. She placed her hand on his knee. Theo gently pushed it away.

  "Really, girls, I don't need anything."

  "You'll make them cry, they can't resist a pretty face," Gunner said. He reached an arm around Dawn's waist and said, "Can you, darlin'? I ain't pretty enough for you?"

  Dawn tilted her head back and giggled as she studied him. "You're plenty pretty."

  Theo shrugged my hand from his shoulder with a sigh. "I'm turning in," he said. He moved me out of the way as he got up, his hand hot and firm against my lower back. I could still feel the echo of his touch as he walked away.

  "Long trip," Gunner said with a shrug. Then he turned his attention back to the giggling Dawn.

  I wished I'd been able to push her at someone else, first. Jester, or maybe even Irish if he didn't drink too much. But she had been determined to jump on Gunner since the moment she saw him, and who was I to stop her?

  I left them, intending to go back to the jukebox, but Bill clapped a hand on my shoulder. "What happened?"

  "I think he's tired."

  "Go give it one more try. He's in the first guest room."

  I sighed. It was sort of my job to make sure everyone was having a good time, but I suspected the newcomer wasn't interested. "And if he kicks me out? "

  "Then you're off the hook."

  "Okay." I slipped through the back door into a quiet hallway. The clubroom was to the left - I wasn't allowed in there, though. I walked straight down the hall to the first door on the right and knocked, bouncing on my toes and humming a tune.

  The door swung open, revealing Theo's shirtless, tattooed chest.

  "Hi!" I said. A big grin spread across my face. God, is he hot. Even if he slammed the door in my face, the view was worth it. I must look like the biggest fool right now. I tried to compose myself, but the corners of my lips kept twitching upwards. "Bill wanted me to check on you."

  "Yeah?" Finally peeling my eyes from his mag
nificent torso, I could tell he was definitely weary after his trip.

  "Yeah. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Something to help you sleep?" I bit my lip, hoping it looked sexy. I suspected it didn't; I was trying too hard not to laugh. What is wrong with me? He’d completely destroyed my composure without actually doing anything.

  I was never going to get to run my hands all over those hard muscles if I kept giggling in the doorway, so I stepped closer and traced his belt with a fingertip. "Anything I can help you with at all?"

  "What were you humming?"

  The unexpected question threw me off. "Oh. Um. I think it was Common People."

  He cracked a small grin. I felt like I melted right there. His body was an incredible turn-on, but that grin turned me into a mindless puddle. I suddenly didn't want to just climb him like a tree - I wanted to kiss him. "You have good taste in music."

  "Thanks." I tried to turn the charm back on. "Want to talk about our favorite songs?"

  He looked like he was considering it, but the moment passed, and with it the humor in his face faded. "Not tonight." And he shut the door.

  I stood there a moment. Too good for a club bitch?

  Whatever. I'd steal Gunner back from Dawn. That would soothe my pride, and it would pretty much be doing her a favor.

  I shrugged at Bill as I re-entered the bar. He shrugged back Oh well. I glanced around for another likely victim. Bars and Anchor were both with their wives (not that either of them were especially unfaithful, anyway). Bill was with Veronica for the evening. I sidled up to his son, Jester, but he shrugged me away. I’d heard he was having trouble with some lady, so I didn’t push him. Mort was in loud drunk mode already, which meant if I took him to a room, he’d fall asleep on drool on me before I could get his belt buckle undone. More importantly, he’d be incoherent and forget to tip Nella for me. Cheapskate is what he is.

  That left Irish and Gunner. Both were still flirting with Dawn, though Irish was too busy working the bar to talk much. He’d be working late - so that solidified my plan to steal Gunner away. Besides, she’s the new girl - if anyone should entertain the Prospect later, it should be her.