Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1 Read online

  Love you both

  Cast of Characters

  Officers

  Drummer – President

  Wraith – Vice President

  Heart – Secretary

  Dollar – Treasurer

  Peg – Sergeant-at-arms

  Blade – Enforcer

  Mouse – Computer Expert

  Patched Members

  Adam

  Beef

  Bullet

  Buster

  Dart

  Rock

  Slick

  Tongue

  Viper

  Prospects

  Hank

  Marsh

  Spider

  Old Ladies & Children

  Carmen (Bullet’s)

  Sandy (Viper’s)

  Crystal (Heart’s): Amy

  Sweet Butts

  Allie

  Chrissy

  Jill

  Pussy

  Prologue

  Eighteen months ago

  Sophie

  Walking into the typical English pub in Guildford, I spy my friend hovering by the entrance and have my greeting ready as I approach her. “Hey, girlfriend!” At my voice, Zoe turns around and pulls me in for a hug and a kiss.

  I lean over at the same time as she turns her head and accidentally end up giving her a smacker on the lips. Of course, I make the most of it. “Mmmm mm!”

  My face splits into a wide grin as she slaps me lightly on my arm. “Carry on like that and they’re going to think we’re a couple of lezzies,” she warns me.

  I make a show of pulling away, and as I do, glance around to see if there are any likely looking males in the vicinity that could have been turned off―or alternatively on―at our little show. Zoe barks a laugh at me, then together we go to the bar and order a round of drinks. While waiting to be served, I start regaling her with all I’ve been up to. The only time I pause is to nod briefly at the bartender and give my choice of vodka and Coke. By the time we are sitting at a table in the corner where we can gossip to our hearts’ delight, her mouth had already fallen open.

  “Both of them? Together?”

  I smirk at her. Well a girl’s got to live life to the full hasn’t she? While she’s rendered speechless, the smile slowly fades from my face. Not even my best friend Zoe knows there’s a reason why it seems my goal in life is to collect as many varied sexual experiences as I’m able to. Forcing painful memories to their rightful place at the very back of my mind, I give her a light rap on the hand to get her attention. “So, what’s up with you, bitch? ‘Bout time you got laid, isn’t it? How long’s it been now?”

  Zoe and I have a long friendship going back to our uni days when we shared a flat together. Living a fair distance apart, our contact nowadays is limited to these girls’ nights out on every other Friday, which tended to follow the same pattern. Each time we met, I would entertain her with my long list of conquests while she sits back and listens. She encourages me, seeming to enjoy living my exploits vicariously. As far as I know, it’s been an awfully long time since her last sexual encounter with anything that wasn’t battery operated, and even that, like the others before it, hadn’t been anything to write home about.

  Tonight starts off following the same pattern but, for once, she has something to say. She surprises me when she drops it in there, her voice animated. “Guess who I’m working for?” I shrug, as obviously it was impossible for me to answer without her explaining, and she continues excitedly, “Ethan bloody St John-Davies!”

  “What?” I know of the name—well, who doesn’t? “He’s like one of the richest men in the country, Zoe!” Quickly I flash my eyes toward her, showing she’s caught my interest, and grab my phone out of my bag. “Go on, tell me more,” I encourage while gazing intently at the screen, fingers of one hand flying over the keys, but waving the other to show I’m still listening.

  “I’m working on a project to renovate a sixteenth-century walled garden on a massive estate; his estate.” Zoe gestures toward the picture of the handsome-looking man who’s appeared on my phone.

  I stare at the image of a handsome-enough-looking man. Enough to spark my interest. “I could so do that! Wow! Just look at him! And look at that house behind him. It’s a fucking mansion! Is that where you’re working? Do you need an assistant?” When she tells me she’d been introduced to him, my mouth drops open. “You actually bloody met him? What’s he like?”

  “Gorgeous!” She taps her finger on my phone. “In his case, the camera doesn’t lie. And it certainly doesn’t show you his rather tight backside. Soph, his glutes are something else!”

  Now my mouth hangs open. “I’m surprised you noticed, Zoe! Go you!”

  I zone out when she goes into detail, and my eyes narrow as she deviates from what interests me most. “Hey, babe! Get back to the good stuff!”

  “Okay, so he introduces me—”

  “I got that bit, babe. Now get to the fucking part.”

  Her drink almost shoots out of her mouth as she splutters, “What the heck?” She gives me a long stare, and I return a rueful smile. “So,” she ignores my interruption, “he introduces himself in this really upper-class, cultured voice, you know, pronouncing his name as Ethan ‘sinjun’ Davies.”

  I tilt my head to one side. “So, what happened next?”

  “Nothing, Soph. He went his way, I went mine,” she tells me, honestly. “To tell the truth, we’ve been working on the site for a month now and that’s the first and only time I’ve seen him. I doubt I’ll see him again.” She points to my empty glass. “Another?”

  Seventeen months ago

  When our next girls’ night out comes around, Zoe is so eager to see me that she’s arrived early. I immediately see she has something to tell me, as she’s almost bouncing in her seat with excitement, impatient to share. She’s terrible at keeping secrets, so when I slide up the bench next to her in our regular booth, I throw her a sharp look. “Well! You’ve either got fucked or fucked up!” I announce as I take a sip of the vodka and Coke she’d already bought for me, ginning widely. “Spill!”

  Snorting, she almost spits out her mouthful of wine, and a short laugh bursts out of her at my crudeness. Taking a tissue out of her bag, she blots it over her lips to dry them.

  “Come on! Which is it?” I look at her carefully. “Or have you just been playing too hard with your BOB?”

  “Sophie!” Admonishing me, she quickly glances around to make sure no one heard my reference to her vibrator, then puts me out of my misery. “Ethan St John-Davies has asked me out on a date!”

  My gasp is loud. “He fucking what?”

  “Shush!” she chides me again, noticing heads turn at my exclamation. “Calm down a bit, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  “Well fucking come on then, don’t leave me hanging!” My eyes were wide open; I didn’t see that coming.

  Grinning, happy and pleased with herself, she tells me about her meeting with the millionaire.

  I laugh my head off as I picture it. “You fell at his fucking feet? Way to go, Zoe! What happened next?”

  “He helped me up.” And then, in a round-a-bout way, she tells me how he came to ask her to have dinner with him.

  My mouth drops open. I’m both impressed and pleased for her. “Fucking hell, Zoe. When you get back on that horse you do it properly, don’t you? You’ve landed yourself a fucking thoroughbred stallion!”

  Fifteen months ago

  Tonight, I beat Zoe to the pub and lined us up with a couple of shots. It seems ages since I’d seen her. As soon as she was within hearing distance, I yell out, “How’s it going with lover boy?”

  She comes over, laughing. “Oh, Sophie, he’s gorgeous. He’s so gentle and kind! I’ve moved in with him. I live in a fucking mansion now. Servants and everything! I don’t have to clean, cook, or even do my own laundry!”

  It isn’t often she’s able to shock me. “Blimey, that was quick! So, what’s the fucking catch?”

&nb
sp; “No catch!” She giggles. “He’s amazing. So generous. So attentive and caring. He does everything he can to make me happy.”

  “What?” My face creases. I’m incredulous, but over the moon for my friend that she’s at last found a good man for herself. “Shit! You’ve hit the bloody jackpot, babes.” Then I think about it, and my eyes narrow suspiciously. “It’s moving a bit fast, isn’t it? You’re actually living with him? Have you given up your place?”

  She nods her head and grins. “Yes, I’ve terminated the lease. Let’s face it, it was a crap place in anyone’s eyes, and Ethan persuaded me to let it go. It feels right, Sophie-girl. He spoils me something rotten, and I want for nothing.”

  Hmm. “So what’s he like to fuck? Must be good if you moved straight in. Tell me you did the deed before you committed? You can’t live with someone without putting him through his paces first. What’s his dick like? Large, medium? Does he know what to do with it? Ah, wait a fucking minute! Don’t tell me it’s tiny? You’re living the life of Riley, but there has to be a snag somewhere. Still, I suppose if he’s got the money, the size of his prick probably isn’t so important, as long as he can use his hands and mouth. Does his tongue compensate?”

  “Sophie!” She covers her mouth to stop her shocked giggles escaping. “Why is it all you can think about is sex?”

  “Hey, Zoe, bless you, you’re beautiful, but sex is what makes the world go round. But if you’re telling me he’s got a big dick, then go you! You’ve won the fucking lottery!”

  “I am not discussing the size of his appendage with you,” she tells me primly.

  I try to hurry her up. “Come on, spill the fucking beans!”

  I should have been glad that my friend had fallen on her feet, but the things she tells me make warning bells ring in my mind. What have you got yourself into, Zoe? But there’ll be no telling her, so I don’t even try. And in truth, maybe my worries are all in my mind and say more about me than her. I won’t ever be committing myself to one man. Why should I when there’s a whole world full of them to explore?

  Fourteen months ago

  Something was up with Zoe tonight—she keeps shifting awkwardly in her seat and comes up with some lame excuses about why she keeps missing our Friday nights together. She also evades the question when I ask whether I can visit her in that fucking mansion which is now her home.

  Her eyes keep flicking shiftily away and eventually she changes the subject, turning it back to me by asking, “How’s you?”

  “Same old fucking same old.” I grin. “Hey, you ought to have seen the fella I met last week. He was an electrician doing some wiring at work. Well, we got chatting and one thing led to another. Let’s just say I’ll never look at the broom cupboard in the same way again.”

  “Soph, you didn’t! Not even you would do that!” She covers her mouth but is unable to suppress her snort of laughter.

  “I fucking did! I couldn’t walk straight the rest of the day.” My grin widens. “Another thing crossed off my bucket list. Now, what’s going on with you and Ethan? I’m not joking about that visit; I’d love to see how the other half live.”

  “Didn’t anyone see you?”

  “No. And don’t change the subject. How’s that man of yours treating my bestie?”

  Unusually for us, the conversation lags, and it deepens my suspicions that she’s not living the perfect life she’s describing. For once, the atmosphere is awkward between us, but if I try to get her to talk, she just turns the topic back to me. Oh, I’m happy enough to tell her about the guy from the solicitors I bagged when I’d dropped some documents off at his office, but could I get information about her? No way.

  Six months ago

  Zoe had cut off all contact with me and I hadn’t a clue why. I’d tried phoning her, but it seemed she’d changed her number. I even tried calling Ethan’s mansion, but was told Zoe didn’t want to talk to me and I was told in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t try to get in touch again. At first, I was hurt, then puzzled and worried about my friend. Finally, I shrugged it off. She knew where I was if she needed me.

  Then, out of the blue, there was a knock at my door.

  “Zoe!” My pleasure at seeing my friend was quickly chased away by my concern when I saw the bruises on her face and the hunched way she was walking. It wasn’t hard to see she was in a lot of pain. “Oh my God, Zoe! What the fuck?”

  She put her hand on the door frame, leaning on it for support. “I’ve left Ethan, Soph. I’m going to my mother’s in France, but I don’t have any money…”

  “Hey, come in. I’ve got some I’ll give you.” I ushered her inside and sat her down. “Do you want a coffee or anything?” I was over the moon she’d come to her senses about Ethan—I’d always suspected there was something off about the man. And he’d been hurting her? The bastard!

  Declining my offer, she shook her head. “No, I just want to get away.”

  It seemed like every word was an effort for her, the stress of leaving the man who’d been her world for almost a year had got to her. I didn’t press for details; that first look at her face told me all I had to know, and there was no thought in my mind but that I had to help her.

  Not too far from my house was a garage with a convenient ATM, so with no hesitation, I grabbed my keys and jumped in my car to go and get all my available money out. Returning as fast as I could, I gave her everything I had, enough for her journey and a little on top to keep her going. She burst into tears as she thanked me, and we clung together like the best friends we’d always been. She gave me her new number and promised to let me know when she was safe with her mum. Then, after an emotional goodbye, she was gone. I watched as she drove down the road until the car disappeared into the distance.

  I’d never see her again. She’d never called me. But I knew she didn’t make it to France.

  And the very next day my life was shattered.

  Chapter One

  Sophie…

  Oh for crying out loud! Who’s ringing my flipping doorbell now? Well, whoever it is can just go away and leave me to my pity party. I’m not expecting a delivery and I’m definitely not in the mood to be disturbed.

  I stare down at my phone, having just ended the call, a conversation I’d rather not have had. My boss wants me back at work. Oh, he was really nice about it, telling me about the adaptations that have been made following the access audit the health professionals had required the company to carry out. They’ve bought me a new fucking desk for God’s sake—one that can accommodate a wheelchair. At that point he’d paused, as though he expected me to make some comment showing I was over the moon about that information. Then, when I’d only grunted, he’d helpfully added that the building had been confirmed as fully Disability Discrimination Act compliant, so I’ll have no problems getting in and out and, of course, there were accessible toilets on every floor. He’d made changes to my job description too; I’d be working from head office now and not expected to be out and about. Shit, why not admit I’m only a pathetic excuse for a human being now, one they’re only keeping on because they have to? Oh, and to make their stats look good on government returns when they can add my name to the number of disabled people they employ.

  Disability Discrimination Act or not, and however much people say it will do me good to return to my job and normality, they’re missing the fucking point—I’ll never be normal again. Never! Every fucking minute of every fucking day I have to live with the body I’m left with, I have to endure the pitying looks and false sympathy from people I once called my friends, and who have forsaken me now. No one wants to be bothered with the ex-party girl who can’t even fucking walk!

  The knocker rat-a-tat-tats now. Christ! Go away and leave me alone! I’m in no mood for company.

  Another long ring and then a loud banging. Who the heck is it? Why haven’t they got the message by now? Who the hell is trying to knock my door down?

  More knocking. Oh for goodness’ sake! It doesn’t sound like th
ey’re going to give up. Fuck it!

  Eyeing my wheelchair across the room, and the crutches, slightly closer, leaning against the side of the sofa, I wonder which is easiest to get to and use. Knowing my physiotherapist would tell me I need to try to use my legs―well, what’s left of them―I bend down as another knock comes, followed by three urgent presses on the bell, indicating the person seems determined to make me go out of my way to answer.

  “Alright, alright I’m coming!” I yell as loudly as I can while pulling the crutches toward me. “Give me a fucking minute, will you?” Whoever is so desperate to see me will have to curb their patience a bit longer, as getting to my feet isn’t easy. Mind you, just about anything is difficult these days. Placing my hands on the handles, I push down on them until I’m sufficiently upright to get the supports under my armpits, and then, very carefully, making sure all my weight is on my hands, I pull myself to my feet. I’m unbalanced and wobbling, as usual. Shit, I know I ought to have kept up with my physio appointments. But when you don’t have much desire to go on living, pushing yourself to try to learn to walk again when no one seems prepared to give any guarantees that that will be the end result, comes in right around the bottom of the damn list of things I want to do.

  Eyeing my wheelchair again, I wonder whether I should just give up and go plonk myself in that. Or do I try to make it to the door under my own steam? Oh fuck, I’ll go for it.

  There’s silence now from the front door. Hopefully they heard me and are giving me the time I need, or, even better, whoever it is has given up and gone away. I bloody well hope it’s the latter. I’m categorically in no mood to be sociable. That call from my boss emphasised I’m no longer a fully functioning member of the human race, and I’d prefer to be left alone to wallow in my misery.