Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance (9 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Inside the Wild Kat Bar, bartender Sammie Johnson set down the glasses she was putting away and cocked her head to listen to the noise from outside. Four--or perhaps five--motorcycles were at the curb. One or two were slowly revving their engines. What puzzled Samantha was the sound of the engines. They weren’t hogs. They didn’t have the characteristic kah-poca, kah-poca, kah-poca of a Harley. But at the same time they didn’t have that higher pitched sound of the Japanese bikes favored by the local college students. And yet, they were modern bikes; they didn’t have the chuff-chuff of the old Indians or Nortons. Even the modern models of those bikes had a somewhat hollow sound to them. These were big bikes with big mills, but what were they?

Then an image of a policeman popped into Sammie’s mind, and almost immediately she said aloud, “Goots.” They were Moto Guzzis, popular in California, Texas and even Arizona as a police bike because of their large engines, power, and speed. Something told her, however, that these were not policemen gathered out in front of the bar.

That was verified when Short John stepped into the bar and looked around. He carefully scrutinized the few patrons who were there. He also looked carefully into the apparently empty, darkened corners of the bar. Then he stepped back outside.

As he turned to leave, Sammie could see the large K with a lance protruding from its center emblazoned on the back of his jacket. The K was the beginning of the word Knights, which was written in large, white gothic script across the back of the jacket. Beneath Knights, it said in red, “Camden.”

So, she thought, the Wild Kat was being visited by the Camden Knights.

A few moments later the biker returned, followed by a young man who appeared to be just shy of thirty years old. He, too, was wearing blue jeans and a black jacket that undoubtedly carried the Knights emblem. This one, however, was much more handsome and had an air of authority. He was a leader, and something about him attracted Sammie in a way that she had never felt before. Another Knight entered behind him.

As Pax stepped further into the Wild Kat, Sammie called out from behind the bar, “Corner booth, no windows behind it, solid wall, with view of both entrances plus the door to the kitchen.”

He smiled at her in response and asked, “What makes you think that I would want the corner booth?”

Sammie matched his smile and answered, “I have no idea what you want, but I am sure that your bodyguards will insist on the corner booth.”

“You got that, lady,” answered Short John curtly.

“Be nice,” said Pax to Short John, but intentionally loudly enough so that Sammie could hear him at the bar.

“No waitress tonight,” she announced. “But if you’ll just be seated, I will come over and get your order. Or one of you can come up to the bar. We have any drink you could want and just about any food that can be warmed up in a microwave, including slices of pizza.”

“Double Jack on the rocks for me,” Pax said as he approached the bar. “And a Pepsi and 7-Up for my ‘friends.’”

He set his hands on the bar and stared into Sammie’s green-blue eyes. “They’re driving,” he added with a slight laugh as he took in her beauty.

Pax was captivated by this stunning girl. She was in her early to mid-twenties, and had lost that early bloom of beauty so common to Hispanic women. Most girls of her heritage bloomed early and faded quickly into a darker-skinned version of Pax’s own German grandmother, who was built somewhat along the lines of a stout barrel.

He read her name tag. Sammie had acquired the size of a post-bloom Hispanic girl, but she was definitely not barrel-shaped. Her ample body was rounded in all the right places and narrowed slightly at the hips to highlight her DD breasts. Had she been wearing a loose-fitting outfit like most women her size wore, her curves would not have been visible. But her tight, University-of-Arizona-blue stretch pants with an equally tight red top hugged and showed off every curve. And there were a lot of them. Obviously, she was proud of her voluptuous body.

Pax laid several twenties on the bar. “Reverse tab,” he said. “We might be here a while. If we leave early, you get a bigger tip.”

Sammie took the twenties and put all but one of them under a heavy glass next to the cash register. She rang up the three drinks, put the twenty in the drawer, and put the change in the glass. “I never work an open drawer,” she said to Pax. “Keeps me honest.” She set the drinks in front of Pax, smiled, and added, “Besides, if the owner saw any of us not ringing something up or not closing the cash register, he would throw our asses out of here.”

“And such a beautiful ass it is,” replied Pax, waiting to see her reaction. Some girls would be offended; some would be embarrassed; Sammie just met his eyes and said “Thank you.”

“What’s a beautiful Hispanic girl like you doing here?” he asked, suddenly reddening as he realized how stupid and corny that sounded.

She just laughed slightly and answered, “My family—especially my father’s family—have been in this area or a little west of here since before the Gringos came up from Texas to steal the land from Mexico.”

Then she looked Pax directly in the eyes and asked, “What brings a bunch of Guidos from the Jersey Shore out to Phoenix?”

Paxton laughed. He liked Sammie. She stood her ground, but wasn’t angry or offensive. “Not everyone in Jersey is Italian,” he answered. “Most of the Knights are from German families. We started getting together in high school to ride together and work on our bikes together. We were just a bunch of friends that liked motorcycles. We became the Knights because we would sometimes race each other on the streets of the Lansing Square neighborhood. One day a little old lady turned onto the street in front of us and Long John and I ended up barely missing her. Nobody got hurt, but she wrote a nasty letter to the paper complaining about all these hooligans roaring around the street and demanding that the police do something about the gang of young thugs that had charged at her like knights in armor on motorized horseback. From then on we were the Knights.”

“Long John designed the emblem,” he explained, turning to show Sammie the back of the jacket. “Originally the end of the lance was shaped like a penis, but that was a little too obvious, so he changed it back to an ordinary lance. But if you look at where it comes out of the K, the intent becomes pretty obvious. And before you ask, the reason it doesn’t specify New Jersey is that for people who grew up in those neighborhoods, there’s only one Camden.”

“And why did the Knights leave Camden?” asked Sammie.

“Cities change. Cities die,” answered Pax. “Even before the Navy yards closed, industry was dying out. Most of the whites left to find jobs elsewhere. The blacks and Hispanics stayed because it doesn’t make much difference which city you’re unemployed in. Long John had an uncle who died and left him some property here in Phoenix. It was a rather exclusive club way back in the 40's. Now it’s our clubhouse and grounds. Almost all the Knights came west with Long John and me and found ways to make money out here in the desert.”

“I won’t ask how,” said Sammie.

“And I won’t tell you. I’m not proud of a lot of it, but I have ideas of bringing the Knights back a little closer to legitimate. There are ways of making money that don’t involve the risk of going to jail for life... or getting run off the road by a rival gang.”

Pax hadn’t realized how angry and bitter his last words had sounded until he saw Sammie suddenly turn cold and start to walk away. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said suddenly.

“No, that’s all right,” she answered stiffly. “I just have to get back to work.”

Pax wasn’t exactly sure what he had said wrong, but he was very upset with himself by the time he sat down with Short John and Jimmy. He took a hurried gulp of his whisky. Short John leaned in toward him and said softly, “I walked around. No devils on anyone’s neck.” The members of The Hell’s Marauders had a small red devil with black horns and a black goatee tattooed on their necks. The Knights had a similar tattoo, except it was a K with a lance.

“You did look on the left side?” he asked. Most biker tattoos were on the right side, but Mexican superstition says that an angel sits on your right shoulder and a devil on your left, each whispering in your ear trying to guide your life. So, the devil's on the left side.

“Yeah, left, I remembered,” answered Short John, more than a little upset that it seemed that Pax would never forget that he had once missed identifying a Marauder because he was looking for the mark on the right side of the neck. Luckily Pax had spotted him before he could lunge with his knife, but he had been able to get way too close to Pax and had afterwards been able to escape without harm into the crowds.

They sat more or less in silence watching as the bar slowly emptied of the few college students who were still there. After the last of the other customers left, Sammie came over to the table. “Time for a refill?” she asked.

“Same all around,” answered Pax. Then he added, “Pour a double Jack for yourself and join us, since the place is empty.”

“I prefer Jim and Coke,” she answered, “but I'll join you.”

CHAPTER THREE

She poured the drinks and returned to the table. As she set the Pepsi in front of Short John and the 7-Up in front of Jimmy, she asked Pax: “Are you sure your friends don’t want something stronger?”

Pax laughed and answered, “Oh, I am sure they want something stronger, but they have concealed carry permits and if something goes down tonight, they damn well better be able to blow a zero for the detectives. Otherwise the cops will throw them in jail. Then I would have to go down in the morning and bail their asses out, even though their asses are nowhere near as pretty as yours.”

She sat down and said with a laugh, “You do love my ass, don’t you?”

“There’s a lot to love, but I love all of you. And I especially love your eyes. Isn’t that color a little unusual for a Hispanic?”

“Not all Hispanics are Tex-Mex or Mestizo,” she answered. Her laugh was a little colder, like she was tired of having to explain her beautiful, but light-colored eyes to Anglos. “There are a lot of famous blue-eyed Hispanics. Most have a touch of green near the center like I do. People just don’t realize those actors on TV or those models staring down at them from the billboards are descendants of the Conquistadors.”

She laughed again, this time more warmly, and said, “Should I ask you why you’re a brown-eyed German?”

“Point taken,” Pax replied. Then he asked, “Is it always this quiet in here?”

“Thursday night is always pretty slow,” she answered. “But it is especially slow with four bikes parked out front with a Camden Knight standing guard over them.”

“Actually there are five bikes, and Dave is standing guard over that door and me, not the bikes.”

“Where’s the fifth rider?” asked Sammie.

“Tommy’s up the street standing guard over Dave.” answered Short John. “If anything happens, he or Dave pull the string and this thing goes off.” He held up a small device that looked somewhat like a radio and said “Safe Baby Alert System” on the top of it. “You’re supposed to pin the string to your baby and put the transmitter under the car seat.” Short John explained. “If anyone tries to take the kid out of the seat, it pulls the pin and this thing screams like you wouldn’t believe.”

Pax continued the explanation, “If they get attacked or shot or whatever, they still have time to pull the string.”

“So you came here expecting trouble?”

“These days we always expect trouble,” answered Pax. “We came here expecting to meet someone who could tell us how Long John died. But it looks like whoever it was isn’t going to show. I don’t think it’s worth it to sit around until you close at four AM just to see if he might show up.”

“We close at midnight on weekdays,” said Sammie. “It’s part of an agreement the owner has with the university. They don’t give him a hard time about the name, and he closes at midnight on school nights. Most of the students have run out of money by then anyway and would only sit around taking up tables, so it works for everyone.”

“Why don’t I stop back just before midnight?” Pax suggested. “I could give you a ride home... or wherever. Maybe we could sit somewhere and talk without my friends listening to every word.”

“That would be nice,” Sammie answered. “We could sit and talk and then you could take me back to my apartment... or wherever.”

Pax downed his drink and made a head motion to Jimmy, who immediately got up and went to the door. He stepped outside and then returned a moment later and said “Clear.” Pax and Short John rose and walked to the door.

Pax turned back toward the bar just before leaving and said, “See you at midnight.” Then he was gone. The sound of five motorcycles rumbling to life filled the bar for a few moments, and then died down as they roared off into the night.

Sammie cleared the table and smiled. At last a man who wasn’t afraid of her size, or her father. Well, Pax didn’t know about her father yet, but she was sure that if he did, he wouldn’t be afraid of him.

Paxton returned to the Wild Kat at a quarter to twelve. This time he was alone, or at least Sammie heard only one bike as he arrived. If his bodyguards were with him, they were staying at a very discreet distance.

“I gave Short John and Jimmy the rest of the night off,” he said as he entered the bar. “They’re back at the clubhouse drinking.”

Sammie noticed that Pax was not wearing his Knights jacket. Instead he was wearing a plain denim jacket that matched his blue jeans. He walked over and sat in the corner booth, where he quietly watched her finish with the couple of customers who were still there and begin her closing routine. He seemed to know that she had her own routine for closing down the bar and wouldn’t appreciate his help or assistance.

She also noticed that he watched her carefully as she cleared the tables and cleaned and put away the plates and glassware. She could tell that his eyes were glued to her ample rear end as she walked from the bar to the tables and back.

At midnight, the last of the customers were gone and she locked the front door. As she started to put the chairs up on the tables so the overnight cleaning crew could mop the floors, Pax finally spoke, “I’ll do that for you if you want,” he said. “That way we can get out of here faster.”

Sammie nodded her approval and went behind the bar to count out the cash drawer. She wrote the totals down in a book that was kept behind the bar, and then opened one of the two floor safes to leave the cash for the night. The other safe had a slot for pushing money into it and was only used on busy days when the till was carrying too much cash. This safe was left open and empty until the night’s receipts were placed in it. As she closed it with a rather loud clang, she said, “All done. We can go now.”

Pax was finished with the chairs, and was standing by the front door. “I hope you don’t mind riding on the back of a motorcycle,” he said.

“I’ve been on a bike once or twice before,” she answered. She had put on a thin, white jacket over her red blouse. It had “The Wild Kat” printed on it in blue letters, with the A of “Kat” enlarged and printed in the red and blue outline of the logo of the University of Arizona.

They rode to an all-night diner about a mile away. Neither of them was actually hungry, so they sat sipping coffee and talking for several hours. Pax asked Sammie questions about herself, most of which she deflected, and he talked about his dreams of making the Knights a more legitimate organization. “I’ve seen where the path we’re on eventually leads,” he said with sadness in his eyes and in his voice. “It’s one thing to be wild and rebel against what society says you have to do. It’s another to intentionally destroy each other. Laws are made by man, but honor is a part of life.”

Sammie almost blurted out the truth about herself, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say what she knew she should say. Finally Pax said, “I guess it’s time for me to take you home.”

“Or wherever,” she added.

“If we go back to my place, you know where that will lead,” he said looking directly into her blue-green eyes.

“I’ve known where it would lead ever since that moment you stepped into the bar,” she answered.

Fifteen minutes later they were going up the back steps to his apartment over the Knights clubhouse. “There are two apartments up here,” he explained as they reached the top of the stairs. “Long John used to live in the other one. I paid for a lot of the repairs and renovations, so he made me a half owner. His half went to the club in his will.”

They stood before the open door of his apartment for several minutes in silence. Finally he asked her, “Are you sure about this?”

Sammie’s answer was to push him through the door, throw her arms around him, and kiss him violently and forcefully. The lust and desire that had been building up in each of them exploded within their bodies, and they tore at each other’s clothing while Pax lead them toward the bedroom. The security lights on the front of the building dimly lit the room. He threw back the covers and they collapsed onto the bed. He entered her almost immediately, and both climaxed very shortly thereafter.

They lay on the bed in the semi-darkness of the room for several minutes, breathing heavily and hugging each other. “Now that we have released a little of the pent-up passion,” Pax said, “We can take our time and enjoy each other.”

Sammie gave a soft moan as a response, but then as Pax began to move off of her, she winced and stifled a grunt of pain. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “I pulled something in my back earlier tonight moving a couple of cases in the storeroom.”

“Then what you need,” he replied, “is a one-hundred percent guaranteed, muscle relaxing massage.” He got off the bed, went into the bathroom, and returned a few moments later carrying a large bottle of baby oil. “Turn over on your stomach,” he said as he went over to the doorway to turn on the lights.

“You have a very beautiful body,” he said when the room became light.

“I know,” Sammie responded, “and you especially love my ass.”

“I said I love all of you,” he answered as he climbed back up on the bed to kneel alongside her. He warmed some of the oil in his hands and began spreading it on her back. He rubbed it into her muscles, paying special attention to the cold knot in the middle of her left side. After the knot had been relaxed out, he began working on her shoulders. Sammie purred in pleasure as her body relaxed totally under his hands.

Her purring became moaning as he moved down and began kneading her buttocks. Pax continued on down and worked on each leg independently, rubbing the oil deeply into the muscles of her thighs and calves. He even massaged her feet and toes. As he moved back up her body, his hands moved farther and farther between her legs until he reached her buttocks once again, with one hand firmly between her legs rubbing her flowing cunt as he massaged her shapely globes. Her moans were now grunts as she pushed hard against his hand.

“Turn over,” he said, and she did so. Pax moved his hands back down to her feet and once again worked his way up her legs with the oil massage. By the time he reached her crotch she was thrusting herself upward and bouncing on the bed. He poured more oil onto her breasts and stomach and positioned himself between her legs.

He entered her easily and began thrusting, slowly at first, and then building in speed and strength. She lifted her legs so that, as he rocked on her, his weight was almost totally on her clit. After a short while she exploded in a tremendous orgasm. Pax joined her in her peak of passion moments later.

He continued to lay upon her, playing with her ample breasts and rubbing more oil into them. Suddenly he saw it. On the very top of her left breast, small, but very distinct, was a red devil with black horns and a black goatee. Beneath it were the initials “TJ.” She was a Marauder Momma!

Pax suddenly raised himself back up to his knees and said in shock, “You’re a Marauder! You’re a Marauder girl!” he almost shouted.

“No,” she answered. “Well... yes, but not the way you think.”

“TJ,” he said loudly. “You’re one of Theo’s Mommas!”

“No,” she answered, “I’m Theo’s girl.”

“Same difference,” he spat out. “Did he send you to me to spy on me?”

“I’m not Theo’s girlfriend!” she said almost shrilly. “I’m Theo’s daughter!”

Now Pax just stared at her with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“He had me get the tattoo to be sure that none of his boys would take advantage of me. It marks me as his. And no, he didn’t send me. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Theo’s daughter!?” Pax said in shock and surprise. “Theo Johnson?”

Sammie sighed deeply. “I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how. I knew that there was something special about you when I first saw you. You weren’t afraid of my size. And I prayed that you wouldn’t be afraid of my father like everyone else.

“Any other Thursday night you would have known. Dad always comes down to the bar to eat supper on Thursday nights. He normally gets there around 6:30. Any other Thursday, he would have been there, but tonight he was negotiating with a landlord who wanted to evict one of the families in the neighborhood and couldn’t be there.