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  Cinder (Devil’s Boneyard MC 5)

  Harley Wylde

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

  BIN: 008821-02852

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  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

  Cinder (Devil’s Boneyard MC 5)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Harley Wylde

  Cinder (Devil’s Boneyard MC 5)

  Harley Wylde

  Meg -- For ten years I suffered at the hands of a monster, bought at auction and forced to be a slave, at the whim of a Colombian drug lord who also ran underground fights. Then the Devil’s Boneyard came to rescue one of their own and I was free. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what my purpose is. I only know one thing. Cinder, the President of Devil’s Boneyard, makes me feel safe and that’s something I haven’t felt in forever. But one kiss and I’m seeing him in a new light, and I know that one kiss will never be enough.

  Cinder -- Meg’s a sweet girl, a little angel who tends to sing and distract me as she cleans my house. I never said she had to pay for her keep around here, but she insists. She’s easily thirty years my junior, which makes me feel like a sick fuck every time I get hard around her, especially after all she’s suffered. Then I royally fucked up and kissed her.

  Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more, even though I know we’re doomed. A threat to my club, and to Meg, has her under my roof 24/7, and I have no idea how I’ll keep myself from giving in to temptation. Whoever leaked her information to The Inferno is going to pay in blood. Even if I haven’t claimed her, Meg is mine, and I always protect what’s mine.

  Chapter One

  Cinder

  That damn woman was singing again. How the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on club business when she was sashaying all over the damn house belting out whatever song she’d last heard on the radio? All the women from Colombia were re-homed and off living their lives. Then there was Meg. Damn woman refused to leave the compound unless I sent two men with her. She was constantly jumping at shadows, and doing things like organizing my fucking closet by item type and color. Who the fuck did that shit?

  When she started the song over, I growled and threw my pen across the room, watching it bounce off the wall and clatter to the floor. No matter how damn annoying I found it, I couldn’t very well go down there and growl at her. I’d tried it once and she’d promptly burst into tears before running from my house. Then I’d felt like an asshole for scaring her. I didn’t know what to do with her. The men gave her a wide berth most of the time, unless she needed something. They were all there in an instant if they thought Meg was having trouble, or needed protection.

  She was always cooking for someone or other, cleaning my fucking house, doing my laundry. Hell, she even bought my groceries. I should be thrilled I didn’t have to handle any of that crap anymore, and I might have been, if the woman didn’t make me hard all the damn time. Even now, with her singing the same thing over and over, I was hard as a fucking steel post. I was staring sixty in the eye and Meg couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. Young enough to be my daughter, damn near young enough to be my granddaughter. Made me feel like a sick fuck, even though the age difference didn’t seem to bother my VP. He was more than twenty years older than his wife, Clarity, and I’d never seen two people so in love. Except maybe Havoc and that psycho woman of his.

  When I’d reached forty and hadn’t found a woman, I’d decided that family shit just wasn’t for me. I hadn’t even touched the club sluts, not in a long-ass time. It had gotten too fucking complicated when I discovered some of them were trying to get pregnant on purpose to trap me and the others in my club. After that, I went on dates here and there with older women in surrounding towns. I hadn’t scratched that itch in probably six months, which might explain why Meg was getting a rise out of my dick all the damn time. Or maybe it was just how sweetly she was curved. I had no doubt she’d be a nice handful if I had her in my bed.

  My eye twitched when Meg started her damn song yet again. It wasn’t that the song was annoying so much as it pissed me off that my dick seemed to like her voice a little too much. I unfastened my pants, knowing there was only one way to fix this shit, at least for an hour or two. I pulled open the desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube and dragged the box of tissue closer. After squirting a liberal amount of the liquid on my palm, I wrapped my hand around my shaft and started stroking. My eyes slammed shut as her voice carried through the closed door, and I imagined the sounds she’d make as I pounded into her. It only took a few strokes after that for my cum to cover my hand and hit the desk. I groaned as my dick twitched but didn’t completely deflate.

  After cleaning myself and the desk up, I tossed the tissues into the trash and shoved my chair back. I rose to my feet, fastened my pants, and decided enough was enough. The way she was affecting me today, I knew I’d be hard again within an hour, and I had too much shit to do to keep jerking off. I went through the house to the kitchen, where she’d dumped the laundry all over the table and seemed to be matching socks. Her hips swayed back and forth as she belted out the lyrics to whatever pop song was stuck in her head this time.

  “Is all that fucking racket really necessary?” I asked, my tone a bit harsher than I’d intended.

  She gasped, her hand at her throat as she spun to face me. Her wide, frightened eyes made me feel like a complete shit, but I could only handle so much. I needed her gone. Not just from my house, but from the compound. I just hadn’t figured out how to make that happen yet. I couldn’t exactly toss her out without anywhere to go or a way to take care of herself. I wasn’t that big a monster, but she was too fucking tempting.

  “I can’t work with you singing at the top of your lungs,” I said. “I need to get the week’s numbers to Shade by end of the day so he can pay everyone, and it requires concentration.”

  “I’m s-sorry, Cinder. I didn’t mean to keep you from working.” She glanced at the table full of laundry. “I can come back and finish this later. I was going to make lasagna for dinner with garlic bread, and I can always fold this stu
ff while it’s cooking.”

  I ran a hand down my face, not sure how to make this clear to her without making her cry. “Meg, I appreciate you helping around here, and that you seem hell-bent on fattening me up, but I’m a grown-ass man and can take care of myself.”

  “Right,” she said softly, her hands wringing in front of her. “I’ll just go, then. Sorry about the mess.”

  She couldn’t quite hide the flash of pain in her eyes before she hurried out of the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door shut. I stared at the pile of laundry and wondered how asking for some quiet in my own fucking house could make me feel like such a bad man. It wasn’t like she was my fucking wife. I’d given her a place to stay, but it seemed she was always under my damn feet.

  I went over to the table and swept the laundry back into the basket, then carried it to my room and dropped it on the bed. I’d fold the shit later and put it away. I couldn’t help but notice she’d made the damn bed already, with military precision at that. She’d been a quick study of how I liked to keep things, and made sure everything was perfect. Too perfect, if my closet was anything to go by. I had to wonder if she wasn’t a bit OCD.

  Now that there was peace in the house, I could focus on the fucking reports and make sure my men were all paid. We’d sold a truck full of guns and ammo to some ex-military men I knew who had become vigilantes. Since they didn’t harm innocents, I didn’t mind doing business with them. Even the drugs we sold never made it into the hands of kids. I made damn sure of that. Anyone who bought from us knew better than to pull that shit, or they’d end up with a bullet between their eyes. These days we only dealt in pot, but I didn’t want to hear about some fifteen-year-old getting high off the stuff we grew and killing themselves or someone else.

  I’d scaled back quite a bit on our illegal dealings, for the most part. We still had the chop shop and had opened a second one outside of town. The marijuana pulled in a small profit, and the guns were a nice bonus. When Scratch had discovered his daughter was alive, and he was going to be a grandpa, I’d pulled back from the heavier stuff. Didn’t want any of that blowing back on my VP’s family. Shade had said he could invest some of the club funds and double our profits, so I’d given him a few hundred grand to play with. Now he was investing over half a million on a monthly basis thanks to the nest egg those initial profits had brought in.

  We’d never be completely legit, and I was fine with that, but I also didn’t want the law breathing down our necks and chance any of the men with families getting locked up. It was my job to protect everyone in the Devil’s Boneyard, down to the smallest kid. If that meant fewer illegal dealings, then so be it. I still took the odd job from the government as well, but the older I got, the less they called on me. Couldn’t blame them. I was still sharp, still had perfect vision, but I was getting old compared to the eighteen-year-olds they were recruiting.

  I’d just finished the week’s numbers and stuffed everything in a folder for Shade when my doorbell rang. I rubbed my eyes and hoped like hell Meg wasn’t on my doorstep. I needed to get laid, and soon, if I was going to keep having her underfoot. I shoved my chair back and went to see who the fuck was bothering me. When I jerked open the door I saw Jordan with her two-year-old daughter, Lanie.

  “Jordan, everything okay?” I asked.

  She glared at me, her lips a thin line of displeasure and her eyes snapping with fire. I didn’t know who had pissed her off, but I had a feeling my afternoon just became incredibly busy. She was perfect for Havoc, but a general pain in my ass.

  “Meg is crying and packing her shit,” Jordan said.

  My heart stuttered in my chest. “What do you mean she’s packing? To go where?”

  “She doesn’t know and apparently doesn’t care. You. Made. Her. Cry.”

  Fuck. I hadn’t meant to drive Meg away completely, just out of my fucking house. Life was so much easier when I only had to deal with club sluts at the clubhouse. Adding women to the family just complicated shit and added drama I didn’t need.

  “I never told her she had to leave the compound,” I said.

  “No, just your damn house.” I heard Jordan’s jaw crack she was so damn angry. “If you don’t fix this shit, I’m going to leave Lanie with you. For an entire week.”

  The demon spawn in her arms gave me a grin that I wasn’t about to admit scared the shit out of me. I didn’t do kids, especially not this kid. Loved Havoc, and Jordan for the most part, but their kid was damn frightening. Anyone else who spoke to me like this would have met my fist, but Jordan was a woman and I wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Not to mention, if I upset her, then she’d make it hell on Havoc, and the last thing I needed was my Sergeant at Arms being pissed at the world because his wife was being a bitch, even though that seemed to be Jordan’s default setting.

  “I’ll go talk to Meg,” I said.

  My phone started ringing in my pocket and I pulled it out, noting CJ’s name on the screen. Jordan’s brother was a pain just like his damn sister, and I had serious doubts he’d ever be allowed to patch in, even if he hadn’t been fucking up as much lately.

  “What?” I demanded as I answered.

  “Uh, Pres, Meg is at the gate wanting to leave. Alone. With a bag in her hand. On foot.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to twenty. “Keep her there. Don’t open that fucking gate for anything.”

  I slammed my door and pulled my keys from my pocket, then stared at my bike. I wasn’t sure I could get Meg to climb onto the back of it, and I couldn’t trust her to walk her butt back to her place. I grumbled as I started walking down the road that led past the clubhouse and to the front gate. Meg was standing there, pale and shaking, as she pleaded with CJ.

  “You have to let me out,” she said. “I need to leave.”

  “No can do, Meg. Cinder’s orders,” CJ said.

  “I don’t stay where I’m not wanted,” she said quietly, but I fucking heard her.

  “Goddammit, woman. I never said you had to leave the compound, just my fucking house,” I said as I got closer.

  She flinched at my tone and wouldn’t turn to face me.

  “Meg, look at me.”

  I saw her form tremble and I cursed under my breath before I moved in closer and set my hands on her shoulders. I turned her around, then tipped her chin up. Tears streaked her cheeks, and I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet to make this sweet girl cry. I wiped the moisture off her cheeks, then took her bag from her.

  “Come on. I think we need to have a talk,” I said, leading her back toward my house.

  She didn’t utter a word of protest and followed meekly along. There were times I wished that she’d yell back at me, tell me to fuck off, or just take up for herself in some small way, but I worried her time in Colombia had broken her. She’d been there the longest of the women we’d brought home, and had suffered the most abuse. I’d offered to send her home to her family, but she’d refused, saying it was better if they believed she were dead. I hadn’t understood, and still didn’t, but I wouldn’t force her to go home to her parents.

  I opened my front door and dragged her into the house behind me. The door slammed shut and I twisted the lock, not wanting any interruptions during this particular conversation. It seemed to be long overdue. I led her into the living room, then pointed to the couch.

  “Sit.”

  She slowly sank onto the cushion and placed her hands in her lap, but I noticed they shook. In fact, she looked even paler than she had before. Her dark, glossy hair fell so that it hid her face as she dipped her chin. We’d never discussed her life prior to Colombia, but I was willing to bet she had a bit of Asian in her, possibly a few different races. Her eyes were a soft gray and a pretty almond shape. Her long dark hair always made me want to reach out and touch it, and her soft skin usually held a tanned glow. At the moment, she didn’t have a drop of color in her cheeks.

  “Meg, when I said I wanted you to leave earlier, I only meant my house. I appreciate
everything you’ve done here, but I need…” I needed some peace and quiet, and alone time, but I didn’t want to hurt her again.

  “I’m in the way,” she said. “It’s okay. I get it. A man like you needs some space. I didn’t realize… if I’d known the reason you weren’t bringing women around was because of me, I’d have left you alone. I didn’t think about them feeling awkward with me around.”

  I blinked and stared. Where the fuck had she come up with that? I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever brought up women, especially around her. I didn’t even discuss my few encounters with the men in my club, not even with Scratch.

  “Meg, what the hell are you talking about?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I noticed that you were…” She gestured at my pants and I winced as I realized I hadn’t been able to hide my reaction to her as well as I’d thought.

  “Darlin’, I don’t bring women here. Ever. It was sweet of you to cook for me, to do my laundry and keep the house clean, but you don’t have to do all that stuff. You have your own home here, and I’m not making you work for your keep.”

  “I like feeling useful,” she said. “You haven’t made me sleep with any of your men, and it seemed the least I could do.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. She was killing me. I knelt in front of her and reached for her hands, which were now knotted in her lap. She trembled as I wrapped my hand around both of hers. She was so fucking small compared to me. One hard squeeze, and I’d probably break her hands.

  “Meg, I would never force you to be with anyone. You know that, right? You’re free, darlin’. You don’t have to stay at the compound. You can go out and find a job in town, or move anywhere you want. I’d make sure you had some money to get you started, just like I did with the others.”

  “I want to stay,” she said. “I feel safe here. You make me feel safe.”