Chapter One
Nicole
Nicole woke, drowsy with her shoulders aching. Her eyes were heavy and her mind was foggy like she had the flu. She was totally disorientated. She recognised the feeling. It wasn't the first time she woke feeling like this. These numb, achy and bruised sensations marring her body were not alien to her. Nicole knew with certainty that she'd been drugged, the question swirling in her mind was why this time?
Trying to clear her head, she took a deep, cleansing breath only to be assaulted by the smell of smoke and mould in her airway. Well, she could rule out being at home in her rinky dink apartment then. A flash of a program she'd watched recently on the Crime and Investigation channel came to her. She was sure there was a warning about not allowing yourself to be moved to a secondary location or you'd be up shit creek without a paddle. She couldn't remember if she'd fought or not. Hopefully she'd managed to at least kick a few asses at least before whoever had her put her down.
She took stock of her body next. She was sat upright in what felt like a metal chair, her arms restrained behind her back with handcuffs securing her wrists. Her ass ached so she'd obviously been here awhile. Would it have killed them to have put a cushion under her? Keeping her mind calm and far away from the encroaching panic as possible, she made sure not to move even though she was desperate to. Part of her brain was pushing at her to scream, thrash and cry with the injustice of it all, but she kept reminding herself to play it cool. It would be just another crook, just another deal gone awry, nothing she hadn't dealt with before. She had to get her mind set right before she revealed her wakefulness.
She longed to lift her arms skyward and do a full body stretch like she did every morning when she got out of bed. Then switch on her ancient TV, snuggle into her threadbare couch with a milky coffee and if she had the opportunity, she would casually punch her Dad in the eye. This wasn't her first rodeo with her Dad’s ‘associates.’ She wished this was the first time she'd found herself this way, but she didn't have that kind of luck. No luck at all if truth be told.
This had been a part of her life, on and off, since the day before her seventh birthday. She remembered walking by herself to school and a large, white truck pulling up beside her. The driver rolled down the window and asked her name. She didn't answer - the week before Officer Hodds had been in her classroom talking about 'stranger danger'. The man got out of the truck and she'd tried to run as fast as she could, just like Officer Hodds had told her to, but she only got a few feet away before he grabbed her. She screamed as loud as she could when a sudden pain in her head stopped her and she blacked out. She awoke terrified and crying for her Daddy until her captors silenced her again with a hard slap to the face. After that her tears stayed silent. Fear always came but she never let it turn into fright. Fear made her wary, fright made her rash and unstable. She had no control in this situation so she had to have control of herself.
Nicole forced herself back from her memories to the here and now when she heard a door click open and became aware of heavy shuffling feet and murmurs. She tried distinguishing how many people were near her by listening for different voices and which directions they were coming from. The more she could find out now, while they believed her to be unconscious, would make it easier to get a handle on the situation when it came to a head. Unable to glean much, she squinted her eyes open trying to see through the base of her lashes. This didn't help. There was only a dim, single lightbulb hanging above her. It was the only source of light in the entire room and cast everything but herself in shadow. She let her eyes open fully, there was no point in delaying the inevitable anymore.
A large man walked into the light and the room instantly quieted. Nicole wished she could rub her eyes to clear them. Trying to focus, she concentrated on his face to see if she recognised him. She knew whoever he was, he'd be the boss; there was never a second chance at a first impression. It was always the same. The guy who she'd be dealing with would be the first to confront her.
He was certainly imposing just by his sheer height. She looked further up towards his face and her neck cracked. Yep, she'd definitely been here a while. His expression was menacing, yet his features had been softened with age. He looked about fifty years old, if he was younger he'd definitely lived a hard life. He had short salt and pepper hair, brown eyes and a thick scar that ran from the corner of his eye diagonally to his neck. It pulled at his skin, distorting his cheek. This was his defining mark and although they'd never met, she knew instantly who he was. He was known as Reaper and he was the President of Fallen MC. Nicole knew instantly she'd have to show strength and respect. Bikers didn't respond well to weakness, she'd be chewed up and spat out by the club if she gave them a chance.
"Hey bitch, you with us?" He had a gruff voice that sounded like a boom in this silence of the room.
She forced her eyes to properly focus and met his stare. She wasn't submissive in nature and by holding his look and giving him a respectful reply, she would show that. This way the brothers knew not to try to take advantage of a weak personality suddenly in their midst. She knew her place but wouldn't be pushed around. Her tongue was so dry it felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. She'd really like a drink before she spoke but that wasn't going to happen.
Clearing her throat she responded, "Yes sir." Her voice was scratchy but clear.
His eyes widened as he muttered, "You know who I am?" There was a start of whispered voices in the dark that she couldn't see.
"Yes sir." Her confidence was slowly surfacing as her fear loosened its grip.
Her mind cast back to her time spent with another MC. She held onto a vain hope that maybe this MC would be different from the last one. At this point in the conversation with Riot MC she'd already been back-handed twice, leaving her lip spilt and the bitter taste of blood in her mouth.
"Good, then you know not to fuck with me. Your dear Daddy is on my shit list. He owes a debt to this club. What that debt consists of is none of your business. You know he's as slimy as his deals, but we’re giving him this one chance. I don't trust him to pay up without having to send my brothers to hunt his fucking ass down. So, you, Nicole Fletcher, are collateral; a guarantee that the shit for brains pays up. Until then, we own you. Get it?"
It was exactly as she thought. "Yes sir."
"You do not leave this compound. You do exactly what any brothers with a patch tell you. Add the old ladies into that shit too. You aren't pussy for the brothers, unless you're into that shit, but you are their gopher. Any problems you'll answer to me or Duke, my VP." She could hear the very real threat in his tone. There'd been no violence so far, yet his voice assured her that it hadn't been ruled out.
Her heart rate slowed dramatically hearing him say she wasn't here to be a club slut. Collateral wasn't meant to be, but it was good to get it confirmed outright. Honor in deals and handling collateral greatly varied depending on who you were dealing with. No way would she have allowed that to happen to her anyway. She would have fought tooth and nail and damned the consequences. She'd never been used that way and she had no intention of starting now. She liked sex as much as the next girl, but she didn't put out for just anyone and everyone who came on to her. Her plan up to now was to find her groove within the club and try to blend in best she could.
"This here is Slam." Reaper lifted a thumb over his shoulder as A man walked up next to him.
He was shorter than Reaper and lean with long blond hair and a rough beard. He had kind, blue eyes and looked approachable as he shot her a wink. She knew appearances could be deceiving and that underneath his charm and easy-going façade, he'd be made of steel, just like the rest of them. You didn't become a full patched brother in an MC without a taste for violence and mayhem. He bent down and untied her legs.
"He's gonna show you where you're staying. One of the brothers'll come get you in the morning and set you to task.” Reaper finished.
Thank god she wasn't staying in this room. It had a definite prison vibe to it. She had no idea of the time but it felt late to her. Slam circled behind her and unlocked the cuffs. She rubbed her wrists even though the cuffs hadn't been too tight. She pushed herself up from the chair and staggered to the side. She'd lost feeling in her legs from sitting for so long and from whatever they'd obviously drugged her with.
"Whoa, girly." Slam steadied her by holding her arm. "Not gonna smash up that pretty face on my watch. You must have really needed a good kip, you've been out for nearly twenty hours. I moved you from the chair to the bed, twice. Started me thinking I'd killed you."
She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. She felt instantly comfortable with Slam. She'd learnt to read people quickly and she could tell that Slam wouldn't harm her unless she deserved it. She felt relatively safe with him. She quickly glanced around to look for the bed he'd talked about. She spotted it in the corner but still couldn't really see it. The room had lightened somewhat since Reaper had left the door ajar that he'd exited through, yet it was still far too dark to make out any details.
Dark, moving shapes of more men stood at the opposite side of the room drew her attention and a feeling of apprehension started to engulf her. She'd momentarily forgotten that there were others in there with her. She didn't like the unknown and really wanted out of there.
Slam kept hold of her as they crossed the room. She still felt weak and was glad to be moving around, getting some movement into her weakened muscles. The door led to a narrow, battered staircase that looked like it would collapse under their combined weight. The plastered walls had scratches and gouges marking them. People had fought and even clawed the walls to try and keep from going into the room she'd just left. She'd seen them sorts of marks before and they weren't a good thing on any level.
The stairs led to a large hallway with four wooden doors. One had a large picture of a male angel wearing a reaper's cloak, looking menacing, its wings on fire. It appeared as though someone had burned the design onto the wood. It was beautiful really. She knew this was the Fallen MC emblem that all the brothers would be wearing on the back of their cuts. Slam told her that was where they held church and that it was strictly off limits.
The other doors led to a large kitchen, the bar and to a long corridor that held some of the brothers’ rooms. Hers was one that was usually assigned to visitors that wasn't being used at that moment. She knew if they had need of it while she was there, she'd be sleeping on the floor somewhere. There was plenty of noise coming from the bar and she was glad they weren't headed that way, she wasn't quite ready to face that yet.
Nicole looked at Slam from the corner of her eye as they walked through his quick tour of the club. He looked about her age, mid twenties. It never hurt to try and make friends in these situations. Time to break the ice.
"So, what's your last name? Is it Merjammer?"
He looked at her and froze, keeping hold of her arm. She thought she'd blown it and was about to apologise, but then he burst into laughter. It was a great laugh, more grunty than any she'd ever heard before. She smiled up at him.
“Slammer Jammer! Fuck. Used to love that song. You know what, Nicole? I think your stay here'll be fucking awesome. Always nice to have new blood knocking around. Warning though bird, few of the guys won't find your shit funny, especially Prez, so just cool it until you know what's what.” At her blank look he said, “Reaper is the club president, we call him Prez.”
Wow, the guy had as many names as Prince. This was the kind of information she needed to know if she was going to fit in. He led her to a room, pushed open the tarnished door and walked her in.
"Someone'll be by in the morning to get you. Until then stay in here. Fair warning."
And with that he left, the door closing behind him. No lock on the door.... Fucking perfect. Nicole let out a long sigh.
She turned to take the room in. It was small, clean-ish with a smoke stained ceiling. There was a dresser that had a few drawers missing and a wardrobe with no doors. On the dresser was an old TV. She turned it on, it worked which was great, she'd be able to drown out the noise from the bar if it got too much. The unmade bed looked like a rusty cot, but the sheets folded on top were clean. A small door at the back led to a toilet and a tiny sink with a broken mirror above it. Well, at least she had some shank material if she needed it. A box shower was next to the sink that needed some serious elbow grease and bleach to get rid of the mould that lived there. She was pretty sure that Science would like some samples of what was growing in the corners. It didn't look like any mould she'd ever seen before.
Walking back into the bedroom, she sat on the bed and let her tightly strung body finally relax. Sitting in this dingy room, she missed her apartment terribly. It wasn't much, but it was hers. Her father always messed her life up when it started going good. Her job was stable, her apartment wasn't above a crack den anymore and she'd made a couple of casual friends. She should have expected this sooner, she'd never managed to have all three at the same time before. He was all the family she had ever known, yet wasn't a family really worth having.
Whatever he owed to Fallen she prayed he could pay it back sooner rather than later, or she would be walking out of here with no home or job to return to. She wouldn't hold her breath to be getting out of here in the next few days. Her Dad was the master of excuses and always seemed to take his sweet time settling debts. Probably because paying off one debt meant getting into another. Yep, she'd be with Fallen MC at least a few weeks. On that depressing thought, she let herself fall back onto the bed.
Duke
Duke couldn't believe his eyes. The woman that Slam had just led out of the pit was seriously fucking hot. Legs for miles and the bitch was stacked with full, perky tits pleasing his eyes. She'd got thick, black hair to her waist and the most amazing eyes he'd ever seen; deep emerald green that seemed to glow in the dim light. When she opened her eyes he'd almost come in his damn pants. He was still hard now. Some bitch was gonna have to sort him out once he got upstairs to the bar.
She intrigued him, there was something different about her that he couldn't quite pinpoint. She hadn't sat there a weepy, stuttering mess, frozen in fear or pissing herself, which was more than he could say for most of the men that'd been restrained to a chair in that room. She either had no idea what Fallen was capable of, or she had some brass balls hiding in them tight fucking jeans. His eyes were still turned towards the door as if he was waiting for her to come back through, when his attention was snagged.
"What was with that bitch? She didn't even flinch. Fucking disappointed. I like to think we leave an impression. That bitch just accepted that shit like it happened every fucking day." Razor, his best friend and real younger brother, blurted out as the door slowly closed. "Jesus, best not leave her around anything sharp, she's likely to snap at some point!" He laughed and slapped Duke on the shoulder.
His brother had a point, it was likely they'd be facing her meltdown at some point in the future. Maybe it was shock that had held her together so well.
"Come on, I need a drink." Duke led the way to the club bar where a prospect set about getting them their regular.
He let his eyes wander around where most of the brothers were gathered and lit up a smoke. It was a regular night to all be gathered together, everyone having a good time. They were a close brotherhood and he always found the sight of it soothing. Picking up his four fingers of scotch, his mind kept drifting back to Nicole. Fuck. No bitch had kept his attention before and he didn't like it now. Sure, she was a fine piece of ass, but he'd seen and had plenty of hot bitches over the years and they came and went from his mind, leaving no trace behind them.
It was more than likely she'd be a raving, crazy bitch like the rest of them. He'd learned long ago to never look at women and take her at face value, they were never as they first appeared. He'd lost count over the years of how many women seemed loyal, sweet and caring only to find out they were heartless, conniving sluts.
Just then, Slam reappeared. "Fucking bitch is funny as shit. Gonna sink my dick in that once Prez gives the all clear."
Duke tried to block Slam’s voice from his head and the confusing, almighty need to punch the bastard and break his jaw. She was funny? He didn't think he'd hear that. He had imagined her in her room trying to hold in a panic attack, not shooting the shit with Slam. The brother was a good edition to Fallen and everyone had voted him in with the first round of votes. That rarely happened, it was fun to see a prospect sweat a bit before he was officially patched in.
The volume around him gradually grew as the night wore on and a few club sluts started to circle the groups, hoping to catch a brother’s interest. The smell of stale perfume floated around them, irritating his senses. Why women felt the need to drown themselves in that musky shit Duke could never understand, especially when it tasted so fucking nasty on their skin. Who wants to lick the flavour of vanilla flowers off a bitch’s neck? He needed fresh air.
Outside, he joined the Musketeers, so called because there were three of them. They stuck together, no matter what and they fucked together, no exceptions. Separately they were dangerous. Together they were hell on earth. There was no point asking them to do anything individually because the other two would tag along anyway. He settled his eyes on the fire pit and watched the flames lick against each other.
"Business finished, Duke?" Bones, one of the three asked.
"Yep, bitch secured. You three ride to her apartment at first light, check through the lot and get some of her clothes and stuff together. Got a feeling she'll be here a couple of weeks with her shit-for-brains father on the fucking task. Fuck, might be here for months."
The three chuffed at that as Duke pushed away the thought of what could be months of slamming his dick into her dripping, tight pussy. His dick still hadn't calmed and it was time to sort that out.
He was making his way further into the yard, knowing that he would soon be followed. After only a few metres, the sound of hollow heels quickly making their way towards him set his teeth on edge, he knew it'd be Helen. The bitch had been trying to be his old lady for over a year and was incapable of taking a hint. When a hint didn't work, he started to say his rejections outright, but it was like she had selective hearing and just ‘chose’ not to hear what she didn't like. The fact that she'd lasted over a year here was a testament to her sucking skills but she was fucking clueless about everything else, and her relentless pursuit of him was pissing him off. She had decided to stay with Fallen rather than return to Spitfire MC when she'd finished being collateral for one of their deals. The bastards took it well considering she had been a regular pussy for them, but he soon found out why. She was clingy, whiney and majorly emotional, yet she sucked like a vacuum and that's what he needed right now.
He kept walking towards the perimeter fence. He never minded the brothers seeing his activities and Helen, the crazy bitch, liked to think he was showing her off and so put all her effort into it. When he led her someplace quiet she told other bitches it was because he wanted time with just the two of them, so he'd put a stop to that. Now he overheard her bragging that he liked to show the other brothers that she was his. You can't get through to a whacked bitch like that and he couldn't care less. It was well known he had no intention of owning. If he ever did it wouldn't be with a bitch who'd sucked nearly every brother here and had a pussy like a wizards' sleeve.
Bracing by a tree, he opened his pants and pushed her to her knees in front of him. Helen always tried to kiss him first. He wasn't bothered with kissing, he never saw the point. They should just get down to business as far as he was concerned. This also reinforced the understanding that this was just a fuck, no sweet romance bull shit.
"Oh baby, you're so full tonight. Been thinking about this for a while?" Helen said in her creepy toddler voice as she rubbed him and licked the pre-come from his tip.
Duke blocked her out and pushed his dick deep into her mouth. That would keep her quiet. He saw she was getting herself off as well. Good, because he sure as fuck wasn't doing it. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations flowing through his dick. He pictured emerald green eyes staring up at him, soft, fat lips stretched around his width. Quickly and silently he came, pulled from Helen’s mouth and zipped up. Patting Helen on the head, he took off toward the clubhouse before she could scramble off her knees to follow and went up to his apartment.
One of the perks to being Fallen VP was that he had an apartment on the second floor of the compound. It wasn't overly big but it suited his needs. The old ladies had kitted it out for him. His bed was huge, he had big, comfy, leather furniture in his living room and a kick ass flat screen TV. It was his space and he didn't like visitors. He stripped off his clothes, crashed on his bed and relaxed.
There was a lot of shit the club had to do in the next month and he didn't need distractions. Businesses needed to stay in the black and deals under the radar. He needed to be focused. His cock started filling again as if he hadn't just unloaded as he wondered what Nicole was doing in a room below him. His mind filled with images better left on the cutting room floor from hard core porn. He groaned to himself and buried his face in his pillow.