Outlaw (Devil's Fury MC 2): Bad Boys Read online

  Outlaw (Devil’s Fury MC 2)

  Harley Wylde

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2020 Harley Wylde

  BIN: 009265-03000

  Formats Available:

  Adobe PDF, Epub

  Mobi/PRC

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Table of Contents

  Outlaw (Devil’s Fury MC 2)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Harley Wylde, Paige Warren, and the Bad Boys Multiverse

  Harley Wylde

  Outlaw (Devil’s Fury MC 2)

  Harley Wylde

  Elena -- I lost my parents as a kid, but a reverend and his wife took me in. They were good to me, even if there had never been many hugs. Then they started pushing me to marry a man I didn’t want, so I ran. I should have known the moment I walked through the clubhouse doors of the Devil’s Fury my life would never be the same. I just didn’t count on a bad boy biker being the one to finally make me feel wanted.

  Outlaw -- The Devil’s Fury are my family, my brothers, but I’m not the same man I was years ago. I’m scarred and broken, or so I’d thought. The little Latina who came to the clubhouse, then pulled out a damn book to read had my attention right away. When someone tries to hurt her, I know that I’ll keep her safe. In fact, I’ll just keep her. She’s awakened a part of me I’d thought I’d lost. Didn’t count on her bringing trouble with her, or nearly losing her, but she’s mine and I will fight for her to the very end.

  Chapter One

  Elena

  The man I’d been ordered to call Father had been droning on for what felt like hours. The tent was stifling hot thanks to the bodies crammed inside, and I’d honestly rather have been anywhere else. I’d heard horror stories about being in foster care, but when my case worker had told me a preacher and his wife wanted me, I’d thought I’d been lucky. It wasn’t so much that they abused me, but they expected perfection, and I was far from perfect. Things could have been worse. I’d been out of the system for a few years now, and I still had a place to live. Most kids would have been kicked out.

  The only job I’d been permitted was at the library. My “parents” had thought it was a safe enough place to be, and respectable. That last part counted the most with them. My necklines had to be high enough to never show even a hint of cleavage. I wasn’t permitted to wear anything that hugged my curves, and had a closet full of baggy pants, tops, and ankle-length skirts. What my parents hadn’t realized was that I’d been saving since I got my job. They thought I spent my money on clothes or going out with my friends. Not that I had many of those. None, actually. Not genuine ones.

  Two weeks ago, I’d purchased a phone at the grocery store a few towns over and added a month of service, then purchased an additional phone card for when that plan ran out. In the tire well of my trunk, I’d stashed a duffle bag with clothing and shoes of my choosing, along with that phone and card. Using a bank my parents hadn’t had access to had worked in my favor. I’d already withdrawn every penny I had and closed out the account. All I needed now was the perfect moment. The way my mother kept pushing Garrison West at me, I knew that moment was now. The subtle hints from the past year were now more of a demand.

  There was no way I would marry the deacon of our church. He was fifteen years older than me, but it wasn’t his age that was the problem. Honestly, my celebrity crush was old enough to be my dad. The difference was my crush was hot, and Garrison wasn’t. Not even a little. But even that wasn’t the deal breaker. No, it was the fact he expected me to remain barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen that rubbed me the wrong way. I had no problem being a mom, but Garrison didn’t want a wife. He wanted a broodmare.

  My mother had told him more than once, in front of me, that I was still a virgin and would be an excellent wife for him. She even commented on my “birthing hips.” Seriously, who said that anymore? The only reason I hadn’t tossed my V-card was because I didn’t want a one-night stand with some drunk guy in a neighboring town, and no one in Ridgemont would touch me. Our sleepy town boasted a population of seven thousand, and anything that happened around here got back to my parents. As to the other… I didn’t care to find out if what she said was true until I was having those babies with a man who loved me.

  The woman next to me leaned in close to whisper. “Such a good sermon! You’re so lucky to have such an upstanding man as your dad.”

  I gave her a weak smile and nodded.

  “And to have Garrison West interested in you! My, you must be so thrilled!” The woman tittered before sitting all the way back in her seat.

  I tried to keep the smile on my face, but it was difficult to do.

  My father stepped away from the makeshift pulpit and started mingling with his congregation. Now that he was finished telling everyone about the wages of sin, I knew people would head toward the tables of food. While it was somewhat chaotic, I decided that now was my one and only chance. I stood from my seat, making sure my mother was preoccupied, and I made my escape. The moment I was free of the tent, I breathed a little easier. The small purse hanging from my shoulder had my wallet and keys inside. I pulled out my keyring and popped the locks on my car.

  “Please don’t see me,” I muttered as I started to run for the vehicle.

  The little hatchback beeped and the lights flashed, but no one seemed to notice. I stopped and looked behind me just to be sure, then hastened my pace and opened the door. I slid behind the wheel, my hands shaking as I tried to calm my racing heart. Tossing my purse onto the passenger seat, I started the car and headed for the highway. I didn’t care where I went, as long as it wasn’t here! With some luck, it would take them at least an hour or two to figure out I wasn’t at the revival, or at home. I’d already disabled the GPS on my car -- Thank you, YouTube! -- and hoped they didn’t have another way to track me. Since I’d never been permitted to have a phone, I didn’t have to worry about ditching one.

  Not once in all the years I’d been with
the Tolberts had I ever given them a reason to doubt me. I’d followed the rules, toed the line, and made sure I kept them happy. I knew that neither of them would have ever thought I’d run away, but at twenty-one that’s exactly what I was doing! I debated going through Atlanta, but I worried I’d get stuck in the god-awful traffic and someone would catch up to me. Instead, I skirted around the city. Well, more than skirted. I headed for Carrollton and took Highway 27 south. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but I’d have loved to see Florida.

  “All right. I may not know where I’m going, but I do believe in fate and I know I’ll end up where I’m supposed to be.” At least, I hoped that was true. My life might have been far from perfect, but at least it hadn’t been entirely awful. Things could have been much worse after my family died, or at least that’s what I’d been told happened. I didn’t actually remember the details. That part of my life was a bit fuzzy, either because of how long it had been or maybe it had been too traumatic.

  I made it as far as Cuthbert, Georgia before my back and neck started aching. I hadn’t driven farther than a half hour since I’d had my license. As much fun as a college town might have been, I wasn’t ready to stop just yet. The more distance between me and my family the better. I’d been on the road for roughly five hours, but I didn’t think that was enough. Between Cuthbert and the Florida state line, I had no choice but to pull over. I would just have to hope that the reach of Reverend Tolbert didn’t come quite this far.

  The exit had a small sign posted. Blackwood Falls. I hadn’t ever heard of it, and since the population was under ten thousand, I had to hope that no one else had either. It seemed like a good enough place to get lost for a day or two. A motel with blinking cherries beckoned, and I pulled into the lot near the front office. I couldn’t stifle my groan as I got out and walked inside. It felt entirely too good to stand up and stretch. Ringing the bell on the counter, I twisted one way, then the other as I waited.

  A frail woman, who looked like a stiff wind would knock her over, used a walker to approach from behind the counter. She gave me a gummy smile, and I couldn’t help but hope she had someone helping her run the place. She pushed a book toward me and I realized the motel was still old-school and I had to write my information down to get a room. When I was done, she told me the price per night and I handed over some cash to cover two nights.

  “Diner is down the street,” she said. “But young thing like you probably wants the Devil’s Fury. Seems like all the girls want to go there. I might be an old woman, but I wasn’t always. I understand wanting to kick up your heels. Go to the edge of town and you can’t miss it. Just look for all the cars and bikes.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Cars and bikes? Just what kind of place was Devil’s Fury? After having religion crammed down my throat for so long, I had to admit the name alone intrigued me. I took my room key -- which was an actual key! -- and drove down to room six. After I put my things in the room, I knew I needed a hot bath, then I’d decide where I wanted to go, or if I just wanted to nap. The trip had been rougher than I’d imagined, but then I’d never been anywhere this far from home before.

  I filled the tub with steamy water, then sank as far as I could. A whirlpool tub would have been amazing, but this would do. I could feel my back cracking and popping as my tension slowly eased. The stress of the last few weeks, then my fear of getting caught, had wound me up tight. The water must have felt a little too good because the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and the bath had become ice-cold. Draining the water, I shivered and stood. After drying off, I pulled on a knit dress that hugged my upper body and flared out to my knees. The peep-toe shoes I’d picked up looked adorable with it. I changed out my purse to a slightly larger one, tossed in a sexy romance I’d hidden in my car, and decided it was time to get out of the motel room for a while.

  The thought of checking out the Devil’s Fury still lurked in the back of my mind, and after I started the car, I found myself heading to the opposite side of town.

  “It can’t hurt to just check it out, right?” Not that I expected an answer since it was just me in the car.

  The last thing I anticipated was a club of some sort, or the line of motorcycles out front. A man stood at the gate and waved me through. Sure, the lady at the motel had said bikes, but I’d thought maybe she meant the kind you pedaled. Then again, the name Devil’s Fury should have clued me in. I might not have experienced anything like this before, but I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t think so anyway. After I found a spot to park, I grabbed my purse and got out, smoothing my dress before locking the car.

  Inside, smoke and music filled the air. I coughed and waved a hand in front of my face as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. My mouth dropped open at the sight of nearly naked, and fully naked, women. The men wearing leather vests -- cuts? Hadn’t that been what they were called in books and shows? -- were openly touching them, and a few… my cheeks burned! Were those women giving blowjobs? Out in the open? Exactly what kind of place had I come to? The words Devil’s Fury MC were stitched on the back of each cut, and I now realized I’d entered the den of a motorcycle club. I’d heard of places like this, but no details. Now I understood why.

  Knowing I should leave, I went to take a step back, except my feet seemed to have a mind of their own and carried me farther into the room. What was I doing? This was insanity! Good girls like me didn’t belong in places like this. Or was I really a good girl? Just because it had been demanded of me, maybe there was a wild child hidden deep inside, some part of me that craved this type of setting. I had to admit that the freedom these women seemed to have, the courage to display themselves so openly, made me wish I was a little more like them.

  I tried to skirt around the outer edge of the room, clinging to the wall, as I found a table in the corner. I sat down and observed the room, wondering if I should get up and leave. Part of me was fascinated. I’d read romances, when no one was looking, but I’d never seen anything like this in person before. Honestly, the books I’d read seemed almost tame in comparison. A few had talked about bondage, but I hadn’t been brave enough to try and sneak something racier for fear my parents would find out.

  The women didn’t seem to care who looked at them, touched them, or what else was demanded. One of the men pushed one of the women over a table and unzipped his pants. I knew I shouldn’t look, and yet I couldn’t turn away. The look of bliss on her face as he rammed himself inside her made me squeeze my thighs together. An ache started to build, and I shifted in my seat. He kept thrusting, and when his hand cracked down on her ass, I couldn’t contain my gasp. I couldn’t see his thing from this angle, but my cheeks burned just the same. I should get up and leave. I really should.

  A cold bottle of beer was placed in front of me and my gaze jerked up to a young man standing by the table. He winked and walked off, not saying a word to me. Hesitantly, I reached for it, wondering if I was supposed to pay. I’d never had a beer before. Or been to a place like this. For that matter, I’d never been to a bar or a dance club either. What was the protocol for accepting a beer from someone I didn’t know? Was I supposed to pay for it? Surely if he’d wanted payment, he’d have stayed longer. Or was the repayment meant to be a different sort? My gaze scanned the room again. Could I do that? Let these men use me if that’s what they demanded?

  The first taste of the brew had my nose wrinkling and my lips pursing. Why did people drink this stuff? It was so bitter! The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself, more so than I already had, so I kept drinking. By the time I’d finished the bottle, I was feeling a bit more at ease. Maybe more than a bit. My skin was warming and if I moved my head too fast the room spun. When the second bottle arrived, I pulled out my book and decided to read and enjoy my drink. So far, no one had bothered me.

  And if I did glance at the women around the room, and the men using them as they wanted, maybe no one noticed. It was wrong, and yet I couldn’t help but envy them. They did
n’t care what people thought or said, or so it seemed. What would it be like to experience that sort of… freedom?

  The words seemed to blur and dance, so I blinked a few times, trying to bring the page into focus. Was I drunk? Off one beer? I didn’t remember taking more than a swallow of the second one. I hadn’t realized there was enough alcohol in those to do that to me. I tried to turn the page and my fingers fumbled, slipping off before I tried to grab hold again. My stomach churned a little and I hoped I wasn’t going to be sick. Wasn’t that supposed to be a morning-after type of thing if you drank too much?

  I cut my gaze to where the women and men were openly engaging in various sex acts, and I wondered again if I would be required to do that too. Was that why I’d been given a drink? I gasped and put my hand to my throat. Had they drugged me? The bottle had already been open when it was delivered. I’d heard stories of girls getting drugged at college parties, but… It couldn’t happen to me, right? And if they did demand that I drop to my knees, would I want to? I’d always thought I didn’t want a one-night stand, but the idea of some guy forcing me to the floor or over a table, of everyone here watching… it made my blood heat and I throbbed between my legs.

  Maybe I was a slut. Wasn’t that what my foster parents had called women like these? Sluts and whores? The yearning I felt, the desire to be used like they were, to be exposed to anyone who wanted to watch… it was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, or wanted. Or maybe I’d always wanted something like this and just hadn’t known how to ask for it, or where to even begin.

  Turning back to my book, I decided I’d try to read just one page, and then I’d head back to the motel. This wasn’t the place for me. I was a good girl. A sweet girl. I… I still couldn’t seem to focus on the words, or hold the book right. My thoughts were swirling around my mind like a tornado.