Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance (62 page)

Victor gently nudged her off his lap and urged her to turn around. Mallory turned willingly and sighed in pleasure as Victor unzipped the dress and whipped it off her in a matter of seconds. Her body was on fire for him.

“Dammit, Jack,” Mallory groaned and rested her head against Victor’s.

“That’s not my name.”

“Jack drugged me too.”

“So?” Victor tossed his shirt away and unzipped his pants with a smirk. Mallory winked at him, forgetting about Jack before laying back on the bed. If Victor wanted to do this, then he was going to have to prove it to her.

“Tempting fate, Jackson?”

“Reynolds. My name is Mallory Reynolds.”

“Should’ve seen that coming,” Victor chuckled and lay down beside her on the bed. Now that they were both naked, she wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had partners before, but this was Victor.

“Just relax.”

“I want you inside. We can play later,” Mallory whined when Victor reached down and gently squeezed her nipple in his fingers. Her body arched off the bed when he twisted slightly. She felt on the edge of orgasm already, and was worried what was going to actually happen when Victor went inside her.

“Victor, please?”

“I want to explore your body,” Victor growled before settling himself between her thighs. He smirked at her again before he slipped his fingers between their bodies and touched her where she really wanted him. She gasped and her whole body trembled as Victor stroked her gently.

The second Victor slid his finger inside her, she crumbled. Her body trembled and shook as her orgasm washed over her body. She was unable to move since Victor had pinned her down with one hand on her hip, and the few seconds of her orgasm stretched out for what felt like hours.

“Please.”

“Shh, I got you.” Victor reached over the nightstand to grab a condom. He was sheathed and shuddering in seconds. He gritted his teeth to fight off his orgasm. This was their first time together, he didn’t want to ruin it by acting like a teenage boy.

“Are you ready?”

“If you don’t get inside me soon, I will fucking rip your hair out!” Mallory growled, and Victor chuckled at her again.

Victor bent down and kissed her as he positioned himself at her entrance. He gently pushed inside a few inches before Mallory tried to take control and force him inside. He pinned her hips down with both of his hands to stop her from squirming.

It was only a few seconds before he was inside her completely. The pleasure infusing his body was overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the drug or simply because it was Mallory. Maybe it was a concoction of both.

When Victor felt her relax around him, he began to move. Mallory reached up and wound her hands in his hair as she cried out. Each time he pulled out, she wanted him right back inside, but when he was inside the pleasure was almost too intense. She couldn’t decide which she liked better.

She felt another orgasm rising up inside her and clawed her hands down Victor’s back as moans erupted from her throat. She was usually a quiet lover, but with Victor everything changed.

“Let go,” Victor husked in her ear before gently biting on her shoulder. Mallory’s orgasm washed over her, and for a second all she could feel was pleasure. Her vision went dark and there was white noise in her ears. Then she heard Victor yell and shudder as he filled the condom.

When Victor finished tying the condom and he lay back on the bed, Mallory rested herself across his chest and ran her hand through the light smattering of hair there.

“Are you serious?” she dared to whisper.

“About what?”

“Giving it all up.”

“I would give the world up if it meant I got to spend even an hour with you. Giving up the club to hopefully spend the rest of my life with you isn’t going to be a sacrifice.”

“Will it work, though? Framing Jesse, I mean?”

“Of course. I’ve covered for Jesse more often than not. It’s about time he suffered the consequences on his own.”

Mallory closed her eyes and smiled. Maybe she won’t be getting that police captain promotion, but what was really for the best? Gaining a promotion or finding the love of her life on the job. At the moment, things were good for them both. They weren’t sure what the future would hold for them, but in this moment they were comfortable. And that was all that really mattered.

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

EMILY STONE

CHAPTER ONE

Even before the sirens began wailing Miriam knew she’d been overzealous with the gas pedal. Swearing under her breath, she pulled over and waited patiently for the cops to come over and question her, praying for them to just give her a speeding ticket and send her on her way. The officer approached the window and Miriam obligingly rolled it down, looking up with a pleasant smile.

“Is there a problem, officer?” she asked, innocently.

“Turn off the engine and put the keys on the dashboard,” the officer ordered her gruffly, “then show me your license and registration.”

Miriam quietly did as she was told, not wanting to antagonize the officer. She handed the officer her ID and sat waiting while he read it.

“So where are you heading, Ms Harper?”

“I’m driving up from Vegas to see my boyfriend.” Miriam replied, giving an answer that was at least half-true.

“You must be in a hurry to be going ten mph over the speed limit.” The officer noted and handed Miriam back her ID.

“We’re in the middle of the desert, officer,” Miriam pointed out, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her voice, “and yours is the first car I’ve seen for miles. Do you seriously care if I was going a little faster than the law says I can?”

“Even so, do you mind if I look in your trunk quickly?” the officer asked.

“Why do you want to?” Miriam flinched, suppressing her nervousness.

“I’m just curious.” the officer shrugged, “I mean I can’t force you if you don’t want me to look, but then I’d have to ask ‘why not?’”

“Fine,” said Miriam, trying to sound like she had nothing to hide, “take a look.”

The officer went round to the back of the car and started fiddling with the trunk. Miriam seized her chance and snatched the keys off the dashboard, and turning it in the ignition; but at the crucial moment, the engine stalled. She frantically turned the key in the ignition, but to no avail, and slapped the wheel in fury.

The officer couldn’t fail to notice Miriam’s failed attempt to escape, and when he popped the trunk and saw what was inside, it became obvious why.

***

Miriam was read her rights and placed under arrest before being driven to the nearest police station. She scowled for her mug shot and kept up a tough appearance for the security camera as she was left to wait in the interrogation room; but inside, she was panicking.

Half a million dollars worth of guns and ammunition had been seized from her car trunk, and it was only a matter of time before they found who she was working for. The best she could hope for was a plea bargain, which would involve betraying her fellow Seraphim to the cops to shave at most a decade off her probable sentence. Either way, she was a dead woman.

Miriam turned to look at her reflection in the two-way mirror. Her hair wasn’t Miriam at all; she’d dyed her hair red a long time ago, shortly before adding a nose piercing and the Speeding Seraphim tattoo on her lower back; she was pretty damn hot. Once she went to prison, however, that wouldn’t last. The women’s sections of the state prison system were brutal; if the stories were true, she wouldn’t last longer than a month in there. Miriam hung her head in hopelessness. She could either sell out her fellow bikers in the Speeding Seraphim, or she could consign herself to a quarter of a century in a desert hellhole.

CHAPTER TWO

The jet-black hummer pulled up outside the police station. Out of the vehicle stepped a man and a woman wearing ATF jackets and shades to keep the glaring desert sun at bay. A local police officer came rushing out to meet them.

“I’m Officer Vasquez, we’ve been expecting you.” The officer offered his hand.

“I’m Agent McMahon and this is Agent Philips,” the male agent replied gruffly and ignored the attempted handshake, “why are we here?”

“A few hours ago, we arrested a Caucasian female in her late twenties for going ten miles over the speed limit.” Vasquez replied, leading the agents inside.

“And?” said Agent Philips skeptically.

“She was sporting a Speeding Seraphim tattoo on her lower back, and tried to speed away when an officer went to check the trunk of her car.”

“A biker chick driving a car?” said Agent McMahon as they were led to the back of the station, “that’s got to be at least a fifteen year sentence.”

“Especially given what she was smuggling,” Vasquez answered, doing his best to ignore McMahon’s haughty sarcasm as he led them to the forensic labs.

Half a dozen officers were cataloguing the weapons and boxes of ammunition they had seized from Miriam’s car, and the ATF agents removed their shades in surprise, their disdainful skepticism evaporating instantly.

“A dozen disassembled M16s, a dozen glocks, a pair of sawn-off shotguns, a thousand rounds of ammunition for all three, and a pair of hand grenades.” said Vasquez.

“This is the biggest seizure we’ve had in months.” said Agent Philips.

“Call the team here,” McMahon ordered, “and tell them to bring a firearms forensic kit.”

Agent Philips nodded and went outside to make the call.

“I need to speak with the woman who was transporting all this.”

“Sure,” Officer Vasquez led Agent McMahon to the interview room, “we were letting her stew first before questioning her; thought you might like to do that yourself.”

“What do you know about her?”

“Her name’s Miriam Harper, she lives in the next county, and her driver’s license is actually a motorcycle license. But she’s got no prior convictions, and this is the first time she’s ever been arrested.”

McMahon only half heard the rest of Vasquez’s words; he had stopped in his tracks on hearing her name.

“Is something wrong, agent?”

“That name’s familiar,” McMahon said truthfully, “in fact she’s been under suspicion for a while, but there’s no problem.” His second statement was a lie.

“Well, here she is.” Vasquez led McMahon into the viewing room.

McMahon remained outwardly implacable and austere, but inside he was lurched back into the past. The woman sitting at the table on the other side of the two-way mirror was slim and attractive, with dyed red hair cut short just above the shoulders. She had a woman’s biker jacket on and a pair of skin-tight jeans as well as flat-bottomed heels on. She was hanging her head slightly, possibly contemplating the life sentence she had incurred. In spite of her change in style, she was undoubtedly the same girl he grown up with.

“The team is on their way,” announced Agent Philips, returning from making the call, “they should be here in about an hour.”

“Officer Vasquez, would you mind giving us a minute alone?” McMahon requested. Vasquez nodded and left the room.

“What’s the problem?” Philips asked.

“I know her.” McMahon said grimly. Philips silently mouthed an awkward ‘oh’, not sure what to say in response.

“How long ago and how well did you two know each other?” she eventually asked.

“We grew up in the same town,” replied McMahon, staring at Miriam through the glass like a memory in physical form, “and we were very close indeed, before I left for college. This is the first time I’ve seen her in ten years.”

“You know she’s probably working for the Speeding Seraphim now, right?” Philips asked, sounding concerned.

“Why else would she be driving a car full of illegal weapons?” McMahon answered, missing his partner’s implicit meaning.

“I’m just saying, it can’t be easy seeing an old friend on the other side.” Philips persisted.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” McMahon demanded defensively.

“It means that we can’t afford for your shared history to compromise –”

“I’ve spent an entire year running this operation with no success!” McMahon snapped angrily, “These gangs hide behind reams of legal bullshit, and all the while the guns they trade all over the state are claiming more lives every week. So I don’t need a reminder on the importance of not compromising our only lead, thank you!”

“Calm the fuck down, Brad,” Philips shot back, keeping her tone level but hard, “I just don’t want it getting too personal.”

“It won’t.” McMahon said through gritted teeth. An awkward pause followed.

“Were you going to question her, or should I?” Philips asked, breaking the silence.

“I’ll talk to her.” said McMahon, heading into the interrogation room.