Slick Running (Satan's Devils #3) (Satan's Devils MC) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Glossary

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Teaser: Targeting Dart

  Other Works by Manda Mellett

  Acknowledgements

  Stay In Touch

  About the Author

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Glossary

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Teaser: Targeting Dart

  Other Works by Manda Mellett

  Acknowledgements

  Stay In Touch

  About the Author

  Published 2017 by Trish Haill Associates

  Copyright © 2017 by Manda Mellett

  Edited by Brian Tedesco (pubsolvers.com)

  Book and Cover Design by Lia Rees at Free Your Words

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.mandamellett.com

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book is dark in places and contains content of a sexual nature. It is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.

  ISBN: 978-1-912288-02-1

  Author’s Note

  Slick Running is the third in the Satan’s Devils MC Series, but can be read as a standalone.

  I’ve been overwhelmed by the reception given to the first two books in the series, Turning Wheels and Drummer’s Beat, and the support and encouragement to continue with the Satan’s Devils. I’m having as much fun writing these as I understand you are reading them.

  If you’re new to MC books you may find there are terms that you haven’t heard before, so I’ve included a glossary to help along the way. I hope you get drawn into this mysterious and dark world in the same way I have done―there will be further books in the Satan’s Devils series which I hope you’ll want to follow.

  If you’ve picked this book up because, like me, you read anything MC, I hope you’ll enjoy it for what it is, a fictional insight into the underground culture of alpha men and their bikes.

  Glossary

  Motorcycle Club – An official motorcycle club in the U.S. is one which is sanctioned by the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA). The AMA has a set of rules its members must abide by. It is said that ninety-nine percent of motorcyclists in America belong to the AMA

  Outlaw Motorcycle Club (MC) – The remaining one percent of motorcycling clubs are historically considered outlaws as they do not wish to be constrained by the rules of the AMA and have their own bylaws. There is no one formula followed by such clubs, but some not only reject the rulings of the AMA, but also that of society, forming tightly knit groups who fiercely protect their chosen ways of life. Outlaw MCs have a reputation for having a criminal element and supporting themselves by less than legal activities, dealing in drugs, gun running or prostitution. The one-percenter clubs are usually run under a strict hierarchy.

  Brother – Typically members of the MC refer to themselves as brothers and regard the closely knit MC as their family.

  Cage – The name bikers give to cars as they prefer riding their bikes.

  Chapter – Some MCs have only one club based in one location. Other MCs have a number of clubs who follow the same bylaws and wear the same patch. Each club is known as a chapter and will normally carry the name of the area where they are based on their patch.

  Church – Traditionally the name of the meeting where club business is discussed, either with all members present or with just those holding officer status.

  Colours – When a member is wearing (or flying) his colours he will be wearing his cut proudly displaying his patch showing which club he is affiliated with.

  Cut – The name given to the jacket or vest which has patches denoting the club that member belongs to.

  Enforcer – The member who enforces the rules of the club.

  Hang-around – This can apply to men wishing to join the club and who hang-around hoping to be become prospects. It is also used to women who are attracted by bikers and who are happy to make themselves available for sex at biker parties.

  Mother Chapter – The founding chapter when a club has more than one chapter.

  Patch – The patch or patches on a cut will show the club that member belongs to and other information such as the particular chapter and any role that may be held in the club. There can be a number of other patches with various meanings, including a one-percenter patch. Prospects will not be allowed to wear the club patch until they have been patched-in, instead they will have patches which denote their probationary status.

  Patched-in/Patching-in – The term used when a prospect completes his probationary status and becomes a full club member.

  President (Prez) – The officer in charge of that particular club or chapter.

  Prospect – Anyone wishing to join a club must serve time as a probationer. During this period they have to prove their loyalty to the club. A probationary period can last a year or more. At the end of this period, if they’ve proved themselves a prospect will be patched-in.

  Old Lady – The term given to a woman who enters into a permanent relationship with a biker.

  RICO – The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organisations Act primarily d
eals with organised crime. Under this Act the officers of a club could be held responsible for activities they order members to do and a conviction carries a potential jail service of twenty years as well as a large fine and the seizure of assets.

  Road Captain – The road captain is responsible for the safety of the club on a run. He will organise routes and normally ride at the end of the column.

  Secretary – MCs are run like businesses and this officer will perform the secretarial duties such as recording decisions at meetings.

  Sergeant-at-Arms – The sergeant-at-arms is responsible for the safety of the club as a whole and for keeping order.

  Sweet Butt – A woman who makes her sexual services available to any member at any time. She may well live on the club premises and be fully supported by the club.

  Treasurer – The officer responsible for keeping an eye on the club’s money.

  Vice President (VP) – The vice president will support the president, stepping into his role in his absence. He may be responsible for making sure the club runs smoothly, overseeing prospects etc.

  Chapter 1

  Ella

  Four months ago

  I’d defy anyone who’s a resident of Tucson not to be aware of the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club, whether they regard them with fear and hide in the shadows as the sound of thunder announces their approach, or, like me, eyeball them with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity.

  Maybe it’s down to the parts of the city that I frequent, but I often see them on my side of town, wearing leather vests proudly claiming their loyalty to the Tucson chapter. My interest in them is, at least in part, inspired by me being a hopeless romantic and spending far too much of my time with my nose in my e-reader devouring MC romance novels as though they were going out of fashion. My imagination fuelled by the rough but tender outlaw bikers I read about, making me wish for an opportunity to discover if fiction bears any similarity to the flesh and blood men I see riding around on their Harleys in real life.

  It’s rumoured they own the Wheel Inn Restaurant and Bar, and whether they do or don’t, it’s an excellent place to find tall, ruggedly handsome, muscular, and tattooed members of the club who regularly drop by, presumably, if the gossip is true, to check in on their investment. Though I’d never gone inside—let’s face it, I can barely afford a takeaway from McDonald’s—I often manage to find an excuse to walk past on my way to work, if only in the hope that I’ll bump into the man of my dreams.

  Just a distant sighting of one of them on their gleaming machines is sufficient to make my mouth and lady parts water, something to store up for the lonely nights in my bed.

  Until one day when I was passing and, so intent on letting my eyes feast on a pair of bikers standing talking, I tripped on the kerb and fell into leather-clad arms. As I flushed red I made the mistake of glancing up into a pair of the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. To be met with a smirk. He’d righted me, patted me on the shoulder and sent me away with a little slap to my butt. I was dismissed. I’d walked on fast to put distance between us, berating myself as to how stupid I was to think little plain old me would ever attract their attention. Shit! I’d literally fallen at his feet and thrown myself at him, but he’d barely noticed, not even pausing his conversation, showing discussing bike parts was clearly far more interesting than me.

  After that, embarrassment had me changing my route, no longer taking the detour past the establishment they apparently own, relegating thoughts of devastatingly handsome bikers to where they belonged. In my dreams.

  And there I thought they would stay, until the day I bump into Jill.

  The spring sun is gleaming down, a perfect temperature to sit outside and treat myself to a cup of coffee bought with the extra tips I’d earned last night. Leaning back, my eyes closed, a rumbling sound roars up the road, echoing around the buildings until suddenly cutting off. Straightening, I sit up and, shading my eyes with my hand, see a vision parked up on the other side of the road. It’s one of them. The Satan’s Devils. Unable to tear my attention away, I watch as the biker removes his sunglasses and slips them into a pocket in his leather vest before disappearing into to the hardware store.

  Honestly, I need to fan myself. They’re just so hot! I’m still gazing across at the black and chrome monster parked up at the kerb, keen not to miss seeing him re-emerge when I hear a sudden shout.

  “Hey! It’s Ella, isn’t it? My God! It is! I haven’t seen you for fuckin’ years!”

  Slightly annoyed at the untimely interruption and at the person who blocks the sight of the bike, my eyes are drawn to an attractive woman wearing almost indecent shorts that showcase legs going on for miles, and a tight tee that brazenly outlines her braless breasts. The sun shining directly in my eyes, I need a second look before I recognise her.

  “It is, isn’t it? Fuck me! How have you been?” As she pulls out a chair opposite me and without waiting for an invitation sits down, her face becomes clear, and it’s only then I’m able to place her.

  My voice comes out as a squeal when I grasp who it is. “Jill! For heaven’s sake. I can’t believe I’ve bumped into you.”

  At once we both stand, pulling each other in for a hug, exchanging comments of “how have you been” and “what have you been doing”, both talking at once and laughing as the words tumble out.

  I haven’t seen her for years. We’d gone to school together and were on the cheerleading team. Always the pair getting into mischief, the ones who’d got the notice of the boys. Well, her at least, me not so much. My role was normally just tagging along. I’d acted as look out on more than one occasion. But remembering the fun we’d had together, before we lost touch, my friendship with Jill has to be one of my best memories about my teenage years.

  Grinning at each other, we sit down again. Now I’m in for my second surprise of the morning. My attention being focused on my companion, I hadn’t noticed the biker leaving the store. But I certainly don’t miss him dodging through the traffic and coming over to this side of the road, approaching us, then curling his hand around the back of Jill’s neck, tipping her head back and giving her deep kiss on her mouth. It’s like a scene out of one of my novels, and now I really do need to wave my hand briskly in front of my face to cool myself down.

  As my eyes open wide he murmurs, “Later doll.” He gives her a wink that holds promise, then he disappears back to his bike, throws his leg over the seat then looks back over and lifts his chin before starting the engine and heading up the road with an ear-shattering roar.

  “Hell, Jill. Is that your boyfriend?” My eyes are still staring in the direction where he’s disappearing into the distance.

  When I look back it’s to catch her smirking. “Not exactly.” Her enigmatic reply is all that she says.

  “Well...?” I prompt her, hoping she’ll say more. Christ, I’d give my back teeth to be the subject of a display like the one I’d just witnessed. Who is he to her?

  She shakes her head dismissively and won’t be drawn. Instead, she changes the conversation back to the rather more boring subject of me and how my life’s turned out. It’s fairly simple to sum up. Boring.

  After another cup of coffee she gets up to leave. “Hey, I’ve had fun reminiscing about old times. Do you come here often? Shall we meet up again?”

  When I can afford it. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Especially if your boyfriend, or whoever he is, turns up. I’ve enjoyed myself too. And I’ll jump at the chance to find out just how well she knows the man in black leather. And whether she can introduce me to his friends.

  It quickly becomes habit for us to get together. I spend far too much on coffees I can’t really afford, but it’s pleasurable to renew our friendship. However, much to my disappointment, as the weeks pass, while she’s managed to extract the uninteresting facts about my job and my life, she gives little away about hers. And I don’t see her biker friend again, nor can I get her to talk about who he is or how she knows him. But I enjoy her company, and she
appears to like mine.

  Gradually, as we continue to meet and start to regain the easy relationship we’d had when in high school, her tongue loosens until eventually, to my delight, she begins to open up. Over a second cup of coffee that has me counting my remaining cents in my head, she begins to explain exactly what her relationship with the Satan’s Devils entails. I’d started with an innocent enquiry about her address, and my eyes opened wide as, with a wary glance around her, she whispers conspiratorially and lets it all out.

  “You really live at their compound? For free?” It’s the words she’s just spoken, but I don’t understand. “What, are you a waitress or cleaner or something?” It’s all I can think of when she explains they provide her accommodation and food for nothing, as well as making sure she’s got money in her pocket to cover her expenses. “Shit, Jill. That sounds like a dream.”

  She stares into my face as though waiting for my reaction, then prepares to clarify her role. She straightens her back and shakes back her hair, then after a moment of silence, which I start to think she’s not going to fill, she tells me the truth. “I’m what’s called a sweet butt, Ella. I make myself available to the men…”

  “You what?” My coffee spits out of my mouth and my eyes almost pop out of my face. “When you say…”

  “I fuck them.” Her eyes narrow, as if in challenge.

  Using a napkin to wipe up my spilled drink, and then looking down into my half-empty cup, I try to process what she means. But the coffee provides no other interpretation than what she’s just said.

  “All of them? You’re a whore? How can you do that?” My voice is low as I breathe the words out. To say she’s shocked me would be the understatement of the year. Of the century, come to that.