Devil's Brotherhood: A MC Romance (Devil's Riders Book 1)

Devil's Brotherhood

A MC Romance

Copyright 2015 Alexandra Stone

Kindle Edition

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CHAPTER ONE

All my life I had been under my father’s control. I grew up in Connecticut on my family’s large estate. We came from money, lots of it. I was never allowed to do anything that I wanted. My life had been preplanned from me. I took French lessons, piano lessons, tennis lessons, and on and on. These were things that were expected of me. I hung out at the country club and nowhere else and I went to private school. It was hinted that I would only be allowed to marry a man of my father’s choosing. Now, I was off to Harvard and I finally had a sense of freedom. I was now able to control what I did instead of someone else. I wanted to be wild and free. I wanted to experience life and all its pleasures. I didn’t know how I would do this, but when Kit showed up I knew I would do it through him. He was the bad boy type. The type that lived with out rules and had a sense of danger to him that only made him more attractive. His name was Kit, and he was everything I dreamed of. I wanted him to show me things, but if I got caught it would be the end. My father would disown me, and I would be a shame on our family.

“Mary Elizabeth, you will marry Tom Ford when you are done with school. That’s the end of it,” he would say to me over and over.

Tom Ford was from another rich family that had more money than our family did. My father was traditional and expected me to be a dutiful daughter and marry for money and power. I despised him for it. I could never be that kind of woman. He never stopped pushing it on me. Tom Ford was boring and there was something about him that I did not trust. He would obviously cheat on his wife like all the men of his caliber in our social circle. I would do everything in my power to never marry him or any one my father chose. For now though, I would enjoy Harvard and the freedom it gave me.

When I met Kit, he was more than just the bad boy I always wanted, he was an escape. Then he became more of an addiction that I could not stop.

I was a month into my first semester at Harvard. I was settled in and lived with my friend Lillian. I had known her all my life. She was a tall and elegant blonde. She was almost the spitting image of her mother complete with pearls and a martini in her hand. She too came from a family just like mine, and we often spent summers together in Martha’s Vineyard. However we were very different in spirit. She loved this Ivy League lifestyle and all that came with it. She was ready to marry for money and be that rich drunk wife that did nothing. I never understood it, but it made sense in our world. In fact I was the odd one out for wanting adventure and to seek out a life of my own instead of carry on the traditions of our family. I wanted to love deeply, passionately, and madly. I wanted to have experiences outside of my comfort zone.

Now I would have my chance to get a small taste of that life that I longed for. It all started when I was driving near campus. I was in my nice black Audi car that my father gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was too much of a car for a teenager, but it was not out of place here.

I was driving back to my apartment when I pulled in for gas at the station. I was pumping gas when I heard a very loud noise. It was a low grumbling. I turned to see a black motorcycle and a rider that made my mouth drop open.

He was wearing tight black jeans that hugged his body and left nothing to the imagination. He wore a tight black t-shirt that stretched tightly across the broad expanse of his muscular chest. There was bandana tied around his long dark curly shoulder length hair and his beard was dark stubble. He pulled up to the pump next to me. He dismounted his bike and I watched his every move that he made. He pumped gas into his tank and then caught me looking at him. I flushed and felt embarrassed. He made direct eye contact at me and winked. I felt instantly aroused by him. He was gorgeous, dark, and mysterious. He was just the dirty rebel that I was never allowed to touch or talk to all my life. I could not stop looking at him. I looked boldly at the bulge in his tight pants. I looked at his broad shoulders and strong arms. Then I saw it. A white wolf tattooed on his forearm. It was beautiful. I wondered if it had any meaning.

Then I realized how preppy I must look. I had a white headband in my dark long hair and I was wearing a pleated black skirt and a maroon sweater. I must look like I just came from church. I blushed at my embarrassment. I saw him smirk as my gaze left the wolf on his arm and met his eyes. It seemed like we locked eyes for an hour but it was only a few seconds. He placed the pump back and closed his gas tank. Then he hopped on his bike and drove off. I felt warm and flushed from the interaction. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to do things with him. He was what I always wanted, but was never aloud to have. The one time I tried to date a kid from the other side of the tracks in high school, my father put a stop to it. I hated him for it. It didn’t make sense to me. I wanted a man, a real man that got in fights and had no fear. I wanted a man that had a sense of adventure and spontaneity to him. Not the preppy guys on the rowing team. I sighed as he drove off.

Then the gas attendant came running out of the store and yelled after the motorcycle, “Hey you didn’t pay you bastard!” He looked at me with a look of defeat. I shrugged my shoulders at him. I couldn’t believe it. He was committing a small crime right in front of me with out me even realizing it. He was even flirting while he did it. I was amazed. I was in awe. I was in lust.

I got in the car and drove home. I could not stop thinking about what happened. I could not stop thinking about the mysterious dark brooding guy with the wolf tattoo.

When I got back to my apartment I was in a daze. I could not stop thinking about the mysterious guy on the bike with the wolf tattoo. I walked in and there were people in our living room watching football. It was Lillian and a few of our classmates. I rolled my eyes as I walked in. I did not want them to be there.

“Mary! Come have a beer with me,” Derek said. He was the captain of the rowing team and someone that my father would love me to date. He was from a prominent family and had all the right connections. He was set on a political path, and would need a proper lady to stand by his side. He seemed to take an interest in me, but I did not return the interest.

We sat for an hour watching the game and drinking beer. Everyone was in good spirits. When the game was over they all wanted to go to a local bar.

“Should we go to the Crimson?” Derek asked.

“Sure,” Lillian agreed.

“Or we could go to the Pipe,” Derek laughed.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“He’s joking,” Lillian said. “It’s a biker bar on the outskirts of town. On the wrong side of town.”

“I’ll go,” I said.

Derek laughed, “It was a joke Mary. Come on let’s go to the Crimson.”

A few minutes later they were off to the Crimson. I stayed home faking a headache. It took a long time for them to take my refusal and they spent a good deal trying to persuade me, but I was never one to give in to peer pressure. After they left I got out my laptop and looked up the bar. I found it on the map but there was very little about the place. If I had not been drinking I would have gone to check it out. Well, at least drive by it.

I fell asleep wondering about my mysterious biker guy and wondering if he hung out at the bar called The Pipe. I guess there was only one way to find out.

The next day I went to class. I was bored and going through the motions of college. I had lunch with Lillian and I told her about the mysterious biker guy. She laughed at me and said I was silly for wanting dirty guys. I asked her to go to The Pipe with me just to check it out. Of course she refused and made me promise I wouldn’t go. I promised. However, I knew that I couldn’t stay away.

Two nights later, I found myself driving to the outskirts of town. I passed industrial warehouses that were very old. It was a sprawling isolated area and some of the brick warehouses dating back to the 1700s. There was nothing out here in terms of houses or businesses. It was very isolated and very industrial, it was definitely the wrong side of the tracks. I did not even see a gas station or any source of light. I swallowed hard and wondered if I was being stupid. What if the guy wasn’t at this bar? Was I out of my mind? I had nothing to go on other than the fact that other kids at school said this was a biker bar. I decided I would just drive by it and that was it. Out of the dark I saw light up ahead. It was blue neon shining in the light. It was obviously a bar. I slowed down and passed the dirt parking lot. There were lots of bikes lined up outside. I kept driving. Then I convinced myself, “Mary you’ve come this far.” I turned around and drove straight there.

I pulled into the parking lot. There were motorcycles lined up in the lot. It was definitely a biker bar. I suddenly became very scared, and then decided to leave. I turned my car back on, and then I told myself, “Mary, you can do this. It’s just a bar. People do go in there. It’s a public place!” With that I turned off the car, gathered my courage and walked to the door.

When I opened the door to the bar a rush of energy came at me. It was smoky and the music was loud. There were hard looking people everywhere. They were people that looked like they lived, and yes bikers everywhere. I stood up straight and walked to the bar. I heard snickers and noticed a few people looking in my direction. I heard “Harvard” and “Prep” a few times. I finally made it to the safety of the dark wood bar and sat at a stool.

“Beer please,” I nodded to the bartender. He gave me a strange look then poured me a beer.

I didn’t dare look around as I didn’t want to draw any attention, so I didn’t know how I would find my mysterious guy. I sat quietly drinking my beer for about ten minutes. Then it all changed.

“You’re pretty,” a deep voice said.

I turned to see a big burly man standing behind me. He was uncomfortably close to me and he was obviously drunk. The bartender just laughed at the man, which scared me. It meant I was all alone and the employees of the establishment would not rescue me.

I said nothing and turned back to my beer. This did not discourage the man though.

“I said you’re pretty!” he said louder and more controlling than before.

I cringed and then felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Leaver her alone,” another voice said.

I turned to see my mysterious motorcycle babe standing next to the man. The burly man towered over him by a foot, yet he stood there unafraid of him.

“Fuck off Kit! This one’s mine,” the burly man said as he put his hand in my hair.

Boom!

Kit punched the burly man and he went down. I was shocked. I had never seen anyone punch another person. The burly man stood back up and was more aggressive. Then about three other men stood up and came to Kit’s side. I noticed that they too had the white wolf tattoo on their arms. The burly man walked away. Then it was over and everyone went back to drinking. Kit looked at me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t thank me. Let me walk you to your car. You need to leave,” he said coldly.

“Okay,” I said. I felt humiliated. I had come all this way and he was forcing me to leave without so much as a short conversation. I grabbed my purse and walked out with him to the parking lot.

Once we got outside away from the prying eyes I felt more relaxed. We stood near my car.

“Why did you come here?” he asked.

“I came looking for you,” I said.

His eyes opened wide and he looked confused, “Me? Do I know you?”

“No, I saw you at the gas station the other day,” I said looking at the ground feeling silly.

“Oh right, I remember,” he said. “So you came looking for me. Why?”

“I wanted to get to know you more. Is that so wrong?”

He smiled at me. “Yes, it would be wrong. It would be very wrong.”

He nearly took my breath away with the way he looked at me. His dark brown eyes were brooding and his dark curls fell over his face. His square jaw was perfect and he was more of a man than I had ever met. He had just taken down a man twice his size with one punch. I was completely turned on. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be with him. I had come this far for it. I took a pen out of my purse and grabbed his arm. I wrote my address directly under his wolf tattoo.