Devil's Destiny (Fallen Saints MC Book 1) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Winter Sloane

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0234-6

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, I hope you enjoy reading Destiny and Devil’s story as much as I loved writing it.

  DEVIL’S DESTINY

  Fallen Saints MC, 1

  Winter Sloane

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  The moment the red-haired beauty came onstage, Devil became obsessed. Devil knew he ought to be paying attention to what Skull was saying. He rode up here to the Pink Canary, to the Skull Riders’ turf, for business, not pleasure. Besides, Devil was too old for the woman. She looked nineteen or twenty. Practically half his age.

  Still, it was hard to ignore his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans.

  Strange. Devil was the Vice-President of the Fallen Saints MC. He and his brothers lived by their own code. Devil could have any women he wanted and he did so. Often. No one was untouchable to him, except for some reason, the only part of him that remained decent urged him to stay away from the stripper.

  No, it seemed wrong to call her that.

  She reminded him of a fallen queen who had somehow found herself in the wrong place and the wrong time. Under the thin strips of lacy white undergarments that hid nothing from the imagination was the body of a goddess. She had long, shapely legs and curves to die for, but it was her face that captivated him.

  Fierce, pale-green eyes the color of stained glass peered back at him underneath long, dark red lashes. Devil wondered if she was wearing special contacts or if that was her natural eye color.

  The hidden fire she still possessed in her steely gaze was a sharp contrast to other women gyrating on the poles. Each might look like pretty, live ornaments but they all wore dead fisheyes. Working here had sucked all the life, the soul out of their bodies, but the redhead had somehow held on to her soul.

  None of the women who danced at the Pink Canary were truly free. Skull and his MC owned them one way or another. This place was a shit hole. An old warehouse on the highway converted into a glorified strip club. The outside looked as ugly as the inside. Dimmed lights and the distracting women hid the peeling paint on the walls and the mold in the ceiling well enough. Men who came to these sorts of places didn’t come here to admire the interior.

  Devil wondered what kind of trap the redhead had managed to fall into. Perhaps she wasn’t the angel he thought her to be. Some of the dancers were addicts. He’d noticed some of the dancers sported needle marks that were poorly concealed by their revealing clothes. No surprise there. Skull and his men dealt in drugs. It wouldn’t be hard to get the women addicted, reliant on the MC for their supply.

  Devil silently assessed her and didn’t see any. That didn’t mean she wasn’t addicted to one vice or another. Women in this line of work often sought escape from their current reality. Devil should know. His mother had danced in a dump just like this to pay the bills. Devil pushed those thoughts aside before the memories escaped from the steel box he kept locked up in his mind.

  For a moment, Devil let himself wonder what it would be like to possess such a creature. He’d chased after pussy his entire life, satiated his urges with a quick hook-up only to leave the next morning. Commitment wasn’t in his dictionary.

  Devil often told his road brothers he’d ride solo his entire life and yet, he allowed his mind to drive. He saw himself and his nameless queen, tucked behind him on his Harley, her slender arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The wind untangling the tie that bound all her glorious hair. The sound of her imagined laughter.

  He imagined those pink lips wrapped around his dick. His cock inside her tight and wet pussy.

  Fuck.

  Devil didn’t understand what kind of siren song she cast on him, but he didn’t like it one bit. The club was his number-one priority. Business came before pleasure, brothers before hoes.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?” Skull remarked, breaking off from their initial conversation. “There’s something about her that the other girls don’t possess. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  Devil returned his gaze to the President of the Skull Riders MC and silently cursed himself for lowering his guard. Did Skull see his moment of weakness? Would the bastard take advantage of it?

  Devil gripped the beer bottle on the table hard and took a long swing. Two could play at this game. His brother sent him here, knowing Devil was the only one subtle enough, capable enough to work a deal with the Skull Riders. Devil’s other MC members thought violence solved everything. Devil needed to get his head back in the game.

  “New acquisition?” he asked in a neutral voice.

  Acquisition. He hated using that word, but it wasn’t like the woman would hear them. Loud music played from the speakers. Devil didn’t want Skull to know how important she was to him. Let Skull assume she was a toy he wanted to amuse himself with.

  “Destiny’s been dancing for us for three months,” Skull answered smugly. “She owes me a boatload of money.”

  Skull didn’t supply any further information, although Devil was dying to know more. Starting down this path, this line of questioning would end nowhere good. In and out. No side business. No distractions. That had been Devil’s game plan.

  Skull slapped the ass of a passing waitress, making the woman squeal. She bit her lower lip and looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she scurried to the next table to take orders.

  Skull and his men were assholes, but then again, who wasn’t? In their world, the strong ate the weak. Bastards who weren’t defined by the law thought they could get away with anything. Devil’s job was simple. He was here to negotiate safe passage through the Skull Riders’ territory. His brothers needed a new route after they burned bridges with a neighboring gang.

  For some reason, Devil couldn’t stop thinking of her.

  Destiny. Fate had an ironic sense of humor. Now more than ever, he wondered if their paths collided for a reason. Skull was simply watching him, waiting for his next move. The creepy fucker. Did Skull really think Devil was a fucking simpleton who could be lured with pussy?

  Doubt and hesitation crept inside him.

  “Deal or no deal?” Devil asked. “I got to head back to the club and I’m pretty sure you’re busy.”

  If Skull was surprised Devil steered them back to their original argument, he didn’t show it.

  “Twenty AK-47,” Skull said. “And our roads are yours.”

  Devil narrowed his eyes. He had to tread carefully here and yet his temper got the better of him. “The agreement was fifteen. If our allies learn we supplied you with that many—”

  “I’ll throw in the girl for free,” Skull said.

  The fucker flashed Devil an oily smile that showcased his gold teeth. Skull had confiscated his weapons, but he could do plenty of damage with just his hands alone. Devil curled his right hand into a fist. He was tempted to break Skull’s nose for the hell of it.

  They were both big men, but Devil knew when it came down to a fight, he’d win. No contest. Devil had m
ore blood on his hands. He’d killed stronger and worse opponents before. Even if he managed to end Skull, he’d have the rest of the Skill Riders to deal with.

  Skull’s men were scattered all over the club. Despite the fact their gazes were glued on the stages and the dancing women, Devil knew they paid close attention to their President and Skull’s special guest.

  He sipped his beer and found it empty. Skull, playing the gracious host to the hilt, called for a waitress to bring Devil another bottle. He breathed in and out. Devil felt like a rat in a trap and he didn’t like it. Skull must’ve been more astute than he thought, because he knew how to sweeten the pot. Was Destiny a trap, cleverly dangled to ensnare him?

  No. That was ridiculous. There was no way Skull could know Devil’s reaction to Destiny. Besides, Devil would give Skull credit for being more cunning than he thought. In the end, Skull was just an opportunist who wanted to milk the situation as he saw fit.

  If their situation were reversed, Devil would do the same but that didn’t mean they were the same.

  Devil shoved all his rising anger away and considered Skull’s deal seriously.

  “If I agree to this and I haven’t yet, what’s her deal? Would anyone go looking for her?” Devil asked. “I don’t like messy situations.”

  Skull laughed and the sound grated on his nerves. If Devil lingered here any second longer, he’d definitely do something he’d come to regret later on. The Fallen Saints were already at war with one group. They couldn’t afford to make more enemies, and it would all be thanks to Devil.

  “Don’t worry about that. No family. No friends.”

  That made a perfect victim for scum pond like Skull.

  Devil accepted the beer the waitress handed him.

  “Yeah?” Devil chewed on that information for a few seconds. He didn’t need to hear more. He’d hear Destiny’s story from her own lips. Devil wasn’t sure how she’d react after she found out Skull sold her out. It wouldn’t definitely be pretty. He’d deal with it later. “Seventeen AK-47s and her.”

  Skull began to protest but Devil held out a finger.

  “I might be swayed by pussy this time, but don’t take me for a fool, Skull.”

  Skull smirked. “I’m sure you’re a practical man. Eighteen guns. Last offer.”

  Chapter Two

  Destiny stared at her tired reflection in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the stranger looking back at her. Concealer covered the dark shadows under her eyes. Makeup magically covered up all the freckles Skull claimed he hated.

  She ran her fingers through her long, sleek red hair which was lightly coated with glitter. The annoying stuff was everywhere. Destiny didn’t bother trying to dust it off. Only a thorough shower could get rid of it. She fisted the strands and wished for her old curls. Skull said she’d look better with straight hair.

  Just like her freckles, Skull had more bits of her personality erased. Sooner or later, there would be nothing of her left. She’d be a ghost of her former self, just like all the miserable and sad women the Pink Canary ran through the grinder and spat out.

  Destiny suppressed a scream that threatened to rip out of her throat.

  This was all on her. She’d begged Skull for money, despite knowing she couldn’t pay it all back. Skull charged interest and with each passing month, he upped the percentage. Destiny felt like an animal caught in a trap she could never free herself from. She was in hell. Literally.

  “Destiny, your next act’s in five minutes,” said a familiar voice that raised all the hairs across her arms.

  Destiny looked over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. Carl took up the entire doorway of the dressing room. There was no one else in the room save for Elsie, who was passed out on the floor. Just great. Carl was the last person she’d want to confront tonight. The bouncer had shown unnatural interest in her since the day she started dancing here.

  Destiny always avoided him at all costs. She’d gotten used to customers and even some of the MC men leering at her, but she made it clear to Skull she only danced. Some girls had sex with customers as additional income, but sex was where Destiny drew the line. She’d gotten good at rebuffing unwanted advances, but she couldn’t hold off Carl forever.

  Carl wasn’t even a patch, just a prospect, but he was Skull’s younger brother.

  Destiny stood up from her chair. “I’m ready. Let me pass.”

  She tried to brush past him, but he used his big body to block her way. Carl closed his big and sweaty hand over her wrist. Her pulse raced. Sweat coated her back. Her lips felt like they were glued shut. Destiny couldn’t let Carl see she was scared.

  She might’ve only been working here for three months but she knew how the rules worked. Destiny refused to let the men see her as prey. Oh, she understood her precarious situation very well. Most women in her shoes accepted their fate but she viciously fought it. Destiny would fight until her very last breath.

  Skull and his MC might own her body, but they’d never have her soul. Even if Destiny would die buried under a mountain of debt, she’d perish by her own terms.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Carl said, frowning at her.

  “I’m not. Move. Skull doesn’t like it when his girls are late,” she said in a cool voice.

  Carl tightened his hold on her wrist to the point of paint. A whimper escaped her lips and she hated herself for it, even more so than Carl’s leer.

  “You uppity bitch. My birthday’s coming up. Guess what I’m going to ask for my birthday?” he whispered in her ear. His breath reeked of alcohol. Every inch of him was repulsive.

  She never dealt well with threats. Despair coiled in her insides. Everyone knew Skull had one weakness. Skull could never say no to his younger brother. Carl had gotten in trouble with the law one too many times, but Skull always bailed him out. If Carl asked, Skull would give her away without a second thought. To assholes like Skull and Carl, Destiny ceased to be a living and breathing human being. She’d devolved into a toy.

  Something broke inside her then. Destiny birthed a fierce little animal since her mother died, since the day she started working in this hell on earth. Rage burned away her fear, her despair until she had nothing left.

  Destiny rammed her elbow right into his balls. Carl howled. She streaked past him.

  “What have I done?” she whispered.

  “You’ll pay for that, you bitch!” Carl yelled.

  Destiny was still in her provocative costume. Skull’s men were everywhere. The Pink Canary reminded her of a tightly guarded maximum-security prison. She’d never escape this place. A quick looked behind her showed Carl bracing himself against the wall, nostrils flaring, his gaze unfriendly.

  Any second now and he’d come after her again. This time, he wouldn’t bother playing games.

  Destiny didn’t see where she was going. She bumped into a wall of warm and solid muscle. Heart in her throat, she whipped her head and looked at the man she collided with. It was him. The customer whose steel-gray eyes had devoured her throughout her entire number.

  Skull’s special guest.

  Destiny couldn’t take her gaze off him either. She’d didn’t understand why her skin burned hot for him, or how he was able to mute the entire world around her. Destiny had never shown interest in a customer before. They were all pigs to her but something about this stranger seemed different.

  Destiny didn’t know why she thought that because the man was also wearing a leather jacket with a patch on it. Not the grinning skull of the Skull Riders but that of another MC. MC men were no better than beasts in human skin.

  He was massive, titan-size. He must be at least six-foot-six and he practically towered over her. She suddenly felt vulnerable around him. Tiny. There were streaks of gray in his short dark brown hair and short beard.

  When he grabbed her shoulders and righted her back on her feet, Destiny felt less threatened by him. A little safe. A laughable thought. Men who walked through the Pink Canary’s doors only wanted one
thing.

  “You’re safe with me,” the stranger said.

  He took off his jacket, revealing hard, corded muscle underneath his plain white shirt. To Destiny’s surprise, he placed his jacket over her cold shoulders. She didn’t understand what was happening. Who was this stranger?

  Hearing Carl’s heavy footsteps behind her, Destiny burrowed her head into the stranger’s chest. She didn’t know why she did that, why it felt like the most natural thing in the world. When the big biker ran a possessive hand down her back, she didn’t squirm or shove him away. Destiny breathed in his scent. He smelled of smoke, beer, and leather. Destiny realized she’d smell a little of him, thanks to his jacket.

  “You’re Devil,” Carl began.

  “Destiny now belongs to me.”

  Those words stopped her cold. He knew her name. How? Why? So many questions raced through her head. She felt trapped again but both Carl and Devil blocked both ends of the corridor. What kind of name was Devil, anyway? Who the hell did he think he was, claiming she was now his? Destiny belonged to no one but herself.

  She was tempted to punch Devil in the balls, but she had a feeling this silver fox was a lot smarter than Carl.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Carl demanded, sounding angry.

  “I’m the bastard who made a deal with your brother. She’s my prize, so back off before I break your face.” Devil delivered those words calmly, coldly.

  Destiny shivered, not from the cold but from something else. The realization she’d fallen into the hands of another monster.

  “I’ll kill you,” Carl said.

  “Carl, back off. Now. Devil’s an important guest. The Fallen Saints MC are our new allies,” said a new voice. Skull.

  With her face still hidden in Devil’s chest, she didn’t look at anyone. Destiny wanted to hide in a corner and disappear forever. Devil slid one big and callused hand under the jacket. He didn’t touch her ass or tits.