Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4 Read online

  Contents

  Cast of Characters - Colorado

  Cast of Characters - Las Vegas

  Satan’s Devils

  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

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Reading Order

  Other Works by Manda Mellett

  Acknowledgments

  Stay in Touch

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Published 2019 by Trish Haill Associates

  Copyright Manda Mellett

  Book and Cover Design by Lia Rees at Free Your Words

  (www.freeyourwords.com)

  Cover Models Colbie Kay and KB Bennett

  Photographer RLS Images Photography

  Edited and formatted by Maggie Kern at Ms.K Edits

  Proof reading by Melanie Farrow at Professional Writing Services

  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 reviews.

  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, abusive and violent nature. It may not be suitable for persons under the age of 18.

  Cast of Characters - Colorado

  Officers

  Demon – President - Old Lady - Violet

  Children: Theo

  Beef - Vice President - Old Lady - Steph

  Buzzard – Secretary/Treasurer - Old Lady - Sindy

  Thunder – Sergeant-At-Arms

  Mace – Enforcer

  Sparky – Road Captain

  Patched Members

  Hellfire - Old Lady – Moira

  Children – Demon, Kennedy, Samuel

  Bomber - Old Lady – Jeannie

  Cad

  Ink

  Lizard

  Pyro

  Paladin - Old Lady - Jayden

  Rusty

  Skull

  Judge

  Wills

  Prospects

  Karl

  Beaver

  Smithy – Failed Prospect

  Sweet Butts

  Bella

  Breezy

  Sheila

  Titsy

  Tulia

  Deceased Members

  Blackie – Previous President

  Furnace – Previous VP

  Ingot – Previous Enforcer

  Taser

  Cast of Characters - Las Vegas

  Officers

  Red – President

  Crash – Vice President

  Fox – Secretary/Treasurer

  Indian – Sergeant-At-Arms

  Twister – Enforcer

  Shadow – Road Captain

  Keys – Computer Guy

  Patched Members

  Titch

  Rope

  Cuff

  Cobra

  Sarge

  Hammer

  Petty

  Roller

  Prospects

  Scrapper

  Owl

  Meat

  Old Ladies

  Rosa - was married to old president who died –

  children – Twins Tristan & Tom

  Tiffany - Fox’s Old Lady

  Sweet Butts

  Pixie

  Jinx

  Angel

  Chapter One

  Melissa

  It’s Friday evening. I’m sitting giggling, or at least making a show of pretending to understand what’s so funny, with my group of fellow co-workers at a bar. They’re all younger than me and it shows. They seem to be more in tune with life while I, at thirty-four, seem old among the group of early twenty-somethings.

  Even the music they talk about I’ve never heard of, though they’re not exactly a different generation. Some even live at home, while I’ve managed to get to the place where I can support myself and have a small house I managed to buy, with an eye-watering mortgage of course. That’s the reason I’ve been sipping my one drink all evening, while others seem to throw cash around without a care.

  “Didn’t you watch it?” one of the younger office workers asks. When I shake my head, she continues, “I can’t believe you don’t watch that talent show. I find it hilarious.”

  I prefer spending my free time cooking, producing meals for the week that I can freeze and just heat up when I’m tired, or the confectionary concoctions I love conjuring up. It’s my form of relaxation. Along with reading, those two hobbies take up most of my time. The TV in the corner of my living room is rarely turned on.

  Beth, my exceptionally tall and model slim friend, is animatedly telling the others about her preparation for a marathon, something else I tune out. Me and exercise long parted company. I like to relax when I get home. I’m perfectly happy with myself and my life and don’t feel the need to have an exercise regime or try the latest fad diet to influence how I appear in anyone else’s eyes. Not that I didn’t spend my late teens and a few of the following years trying to become what nature never intended me to be, but I could never match the image of the ideal woman who I saw in magazines. I’ve always stood back and watched men home in on my slender and ideally endowed friends while the years have passed, and I’ve ended up alone. I don’t resent it. When I look in the mirror I know what a man sees, and that’s not a future with a curvy woman like me.

  I’d been fourteen when I first became aware I was different, and because of it was subjected to the cruelty common in kids of that age. I was the fat girl, the girl never chosen to be on a sports’ team, the girl no one wanted to be friends with, as though my size might have been infectious. Fat, the boys called me, baby fat reassured my mom, and that I’d grow out of it. But neither more years nor diet had worked and I remained as I am today, stout and rounded, but luckily, no longer bullied because of it.

  While the conversation about running leaves me once again out in the cold, I amuse myself, looking around, people watching. The bar we’ve come to is one I haven’t been to before. It’s pleasant enough, with the strong enticing aroma of food that’s making my stomach rumble. Good choice of drinks and cocktails too, I muse, watching the bartender expertly mix one, shaking a shaker vigorously then twisting it behind his back and tossing it into the air. As I look on, amused and entranced while he goes through his routine for a
couple of giggling girls who can’t take their gaze off him, I suddenly notice eyes staring at me.

  I look away fast, already feeling my face burning, but not before I’ve seen enough to be able to recreate his image in my mind’s eye.

  He’s younger than me, much younger. There’s a cocky tilt to his head, dark hair flopping around his face in no particular style, and a worn leather cut that warns me to stay far away from him. He’s a biker, from one of those biker clubs that articles in the news often warn us about. But my eyes had remained on him long enough for me to wonder what I’d have done had I been a few years younger. My brief glimpse had shown me he was handsome and muscular, tall but not overly so, shorter than Beth but still much taller than me. About five foot nine or ten I’d estimate. I’m just five foot three.

  Why the hell am I estimating our height difference?

  Of course he wasn’t looking at me, or only critically. I’ve been a victim of his sort before.

  “Yeah, Beth. This weekend.” I force myself to concentrate on the conversation going on around me. “What do you want me to make? Cupcakes? Muffins? Both?”

  Beth’s tongue actually licks her lips in anticipation. “Both? Of course, you’re coming, aren’t you, Melissa?”

  I shake my head. “You don’t want me around.”

  They do try to include me in their activities, but the thing is, I’m not comfortable mixing with them outside of work. It’s not that I don’t get on with them, I do. We’re just interested in different things. Clothes, fashion and young men are not my scene. I’m sure one day they’ll realise I’m boring.

  “Have you got anything better to do?” Her eyes narrow.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I’ll be busy.” I decide to keep quiet that I’ll be trying out a new recipe and looking at getting some wool for a knitting pattern I found online.

  Used to me turning down any and all invitations, Beth just shakes her head, then grins. “One of these days we’ll drag you out into the land of the living, Melissa.”

  I smile back, offering only a tentative, “Maybe.”

  I may have only had one drink, but my bladder signals it needs emptying. Pushing back my chair, I stand, and make my way to the restrooms which are over in the direction of the bar. As I enter the small hallway, the door to the Men’s opens, and the biker I’d been admiring earlier steps out. Up close, he looks even younger than the age I had first pegged him.

  We do that sort of awkward dance, him stepping to his left and me to the right at the same time, then laugh in embarrassment, and repeat it to the other side. He quickly tires of the game, putting his strong calloused hands against my biceps, and moving me to one side so he can get around me.

  A zing of electricity goes through me at the touch of his warm hands, but it’s all too fast, and job done, he moves them away. Then, with a wink, he walks off.

  I stay, for a moment needing the wall to support me, and my hand covers my heart which seems to be fluttering. Half of me wishes I was ten years younger, the other half acknowledges he wouldn’t have looked twice at me then, either. But, the demon sitting on my shoulder whispers into my ear, no one will know if I use him to fuel some fantasies when I’m using my vibrator later, and in my dreams, I can be any age, and any shape or size that I want. I could even be a woman who’d tempt a handsome biker.

  I only take a few seconds to recover my equilibrium, then step into the Ladies and do what I came here for. After washing my hands and drying them, I prepare to reverse my steps through the crowded bar and return to my friends once again.

  “Hey,” a voice interrupts as I exit the hallway. “After dancing together, I think we should at least exchange names.”

  For the second time this evening, my face turns bright red, and I’m tempted to check behind me that there’s no one else there.

  “I’m Skull.” His mouth turns up either side, and I’m subjected to the full force of his attractiveness, noticing the gleam of sin and temptation in his eyes.

  “I’m too old to play games.” I come straight out with it. I’m not easy, and so far away from the type of person this man should hook up with, it’s too much of a joke to even consider. If he’s got mommy issues or fantasies, he can keep them.

  “Whoa.” He holds up his hands. “Who said we were playing a game?”

  “I do,” I say, firmly. “When a man speaks to a strange woman in a bar, it’s not to exchange views on the weather.” I might be a homebody, but I’m not naïve. “An approach out of the blue is usually taking the opportunity to flirt.”

  His grin widens, and he shrugs. “What’s wrong with flirting?”

  “Nothing. As long as it’s with someone the same age and in the same ballgame.”

  “You saying you’re out of my league?” A frown appears.

  “No,” I deny hastily, “I’m saying you’re out of mine. Why on earth would a handsome young man want to talk to an older woman like me?” I haven’t missed that we’re surrounded by many, more-suitable girls with a lot less years under their belt, pretty and airless, and who would probably love to take a ride on his bike.

  “Handsome?” As he cocks an eyebrow, the grin comes back. “You think I’m handsome?”

  “Whether I do or not isn’t the point. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to my friends.”

  He stares at me, his eyes softening slightly. Then his gaze goes toward our table, and his lips turn up in that devastating smile once again. “Okay, you do that. Nice to meet you, er…?”

  “Melissa.” For the life of me, I don’t know why I told him.

  “Melissa.” He tries it out.

  Heaven help me, but my name falling from the lips of this sexy biker, almost in a reverent tone, does something to me. That session with my vibrator is definitely on the horizon when I’m by myself later, along with that fantasy that I’m twenty and nothing more than a size 0.

  Knowing I need to get away before I make a fool of myself by grabbing hold of his leather vest and insisting he eases the arousal inside me by taking me outside, I stumble in the direction of where my friends are sitting.

  “What was that all about?” Beth’s the one to ask, but not the only one staring wide-eyed between me and the man at the bar. “He a friend of yours?”

  “I don’t know him from Adam,” I admit, my lips thinning, unable to stop my eyes returning to the man with the peculiar name. He appears to have lost all interest in me and is now deep in conversation with the bartender. Hmm. Probably ordering his next beer. Could well be a drunk as well as a biker, an overindulgence in alcohol would certainly offer an explanation for his strange behaviour. I frown, though I hadn’t noticed him unsteady in any way, it could be that I’d had a conversation with a drink and not a man. Only one inebriated would show the slightest interest in a woman like myself.

  Beth grins. “I think he is now.”

  “What?” I’ve lost the thread, obviously.

  “A friend.” She nods at a heavily laden tray that’s being carried our way. From the concoctions upon it I can see it’s meant to be ours. Up to now we’ve all been buying our drinks on separate tabs.

  “I can’t afford…” I start, as a fresh margarita is slid over the table toward me.

  “Is it on the house?” Carter asks, optimistically.

  I wait, hopefully for a positive but inexplicable answer, but my spirits fall when the waitress replies, “Nah, Skull sent them over.” She turns to nod at the man now watching from the bar so there can be no misunderstanding.

  Beth nudges me. “Told you it was him, and he’s paid out for a full round. That doesn’t come cheap, girly. Think you must have made an impression.”

  I glance around the table at the other workers from the government offices in town. Sian, she’s got Irish heritage and Celtic looks, and tonight is totally stunning wearing tight leggings and a latest fashion top. Her hair is cropped. Holly, sitting next to her, is her opposite in every way, fair complexion and blo
nd hair which seems to glimmer in the overhead lights. Her brilliant blue eyes are sparkling as she sips her free Sex on the Beach. I remember wondering whether she really likes it when she placed her order, or just wanted to try and make the bartender blush. Beth, striking, over six-foot-tall, is still in her twenties and lacks for nothing in the looks department. Then there’s Macey and Shayla, both pretty girls.

  My lips press together as I wonder whether one of them had caught his attention. That seems more fitting. Try and befriend me to get an invite to the table, yes, that would make sense. The ones I doubt he’s got much interest in are Carter and Brice—the only men here—but then, nowadays you can never be certain.

  Having decided he’s got his eye firmly fixed on one of the others, I’m not that concerned when Beth turns around and beckons him over to the table.

  God, even the way he walks is sexy, his swaggering gait making his slim hips move side to side. His form fitting jeans and tight tee leave little about him to the imagination and make me suspect he’s got one of those delicious Vs leading down to his forbidden parts, the type in the pictures I sometimes swoon over when they’re posted in the online groups I frequent. As he draws closer, I see he’s got a small scar, a tiny white line parting his left eyebrow, intriguing rather than ugly.