Bishop: A Dark MC Romance (The Devil's Riders Book 3)

Chapter 6

Bishop

Forester, the man to Tiny’s left, cracked his knuckles as he sized me up and down. “We got ourselves a pretty boy, Lieutenant. Some no-good biker trash who thinks he’s tough shit.”

Jesus, they’d actually given each other ranks? What a fucking joke. There was nothing organized about these cocksuckers. They thrived off the chaos and pain of others. Kind of the opposite of any military institution I’d ever known.

“That’s right. Just some pretty biker trash,” Tiny agreed, licking his dried and cracked lips. “What do you say we teach this little cunt a lesson.”

This was clearly a setup. Becker was getting back at me for running to Evie’s defense earlier. The guard was a fucking disgrace. Corrupt. Cowardly. And, based on how Evie had had to defend herself during our culinary lesson, a filthy sexual predator. I’d make him pay later. Right now, I had to pay attention to the three men in front of me. The absolute last thing I needed was to lose focus while tussling with these jackals.

I snorted. “Did a group of Nazi scum, who probably all came from the same inbred trailer park, just call me biker trash? Fucking hilarious!”

All three men turned alternating shades of red. Forester shook his head and sneered. “You don’t know how to keep that loud mouth of yours shut, do you, Wilmont?”

“That’s okay,” Tiny interjected, squeezing the crotch of his jumpsuit. “I got something that will keep him silent all night long.”

My eyes scanned the room for anything I could use as a weapon. Being in prison, they don’t just leave dangerous shit lying around for the inmates to beat each other to death with.

I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take all three of them down, but I knew who I”d be aiming for first. The leader of their rag-tag gang. If I toppled that giant, Tiny, I figured the other two would fold and run.

I was also really hoping Becker was only trying to scare me. If he was willing to let these fucking scumbags gang rape a prisoner he’d fed to them, he was more of a low-life piece of shit than I thought.

Having fought professionally for so many years, my fingers instinctively assumed a curled position in anticipation of what was to come.

“Tiny, how many times I gotta tell you, man?” I said with a dark grin, though it came out more like a snarl. “I’m not afraid to take a few punches because chicks dig scars.”

“The only bitch I see right now is the biker trash standing in front of me about to get his ass beat,” Tiny returned, taking a predatory step forward, his minions covering his flank.

I might be pretty, but I knew how to fight. I’d learned on the streets of my old neighborhood. Though I’d never told my mother or sisters, it was how I’d managed to keep our family afloat during the hard times after my dad had died.

I’d started at sixteen in the back alleyways of bars where we”d sneak beers and hold MMA-style matches. After I’d defeated all the boys my age, I’d begun to challenge full-grown men. I’d taken my beatings over the years. But eventually, I was taken under the wing of a local gym owner who taught me how to fight for real. And that”s where I”d met German, our Road Crew Master, who introduced me to the rest of the Devil”s Riders at a Club party.

These want-to-be Nazi scum might think they were tough, but I knew tough. Tough was being brought up poor with no food to eat for several days on end. Tough was looking your little sister in the eye and telling her there were no Christmas gifts the same year she’d lost her father to a heart attack and her childhood home to the bank. Tough was beating a man twice your size and age in a bare-knuckles fight in the cellar of a crack den to feed and clothe your family. I knew tough. These men weren’t tough. They were bullies. Assholes who exploited others weaker than themselves for self-gain. Well, I wasn’t weaker than them. And I was about to teach these cunts all about what happened when you picked on the wrong person.

The first to lunge at me was Mute. I’m not sure if he actually was one or not, but the skinny fucker never talked and had legitimately earned himself the moniker. The man weighed less than your average preteen, but he was a wiry bastard who was as ruthless as an entitled chihuahua named Princess. His go-to move was to get a man on the ground, bite him in the neck, and rip chunks of flesh off with his artificially sharpened teeth.

Tiny’s beady eyes narrowed as he watched Mute do his thing. Lucky for me, the man wasn’t a good fighter, just crazy. I waited until the last second to move to the side, grab Mute by the shoulders like a skilled matador, and propel his head into the porcelain of the sink.

Life isn’t like the movies. Most fights start and end after only a few well-placed blows. Mute crumpled unconscious to the ground as soon as his skull made contact with the blunt edge of the sink.

In the mirror, I saw that Forrester was shooting his shot. Throwing the dumb prick off his balance, I took a knee and used the momentum of the man’s own body to hurl him at the mirror. The glass didn’t shatter, but it did web brokenly along the length of the wall.

Somewhere between awake but unable to move, the Nazi bastard lay stunned on the floor, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish that had suddenly been dragged ashore. Dazed, he wheezed pathetically and coughed up a mouthful of blood and spit that dribbled pathetically onto the lapel of his jumpsuit.

I whipped around to deal with Tiny then, who undoubtedly would attack while my back was turned. Unfortunately for me, my assumption was correct and it was too late to stop the enormous fist sailing toward my face.

I was able to deflect it some, but not completely. Stars exploded behind my eyes as bone and flesh made contact with my right eye.

Scrambling blindly backward to get out of reach, I used Mute like a human shield and stopped Tiny’s next strike by bodily holding the man in front of me. The crunch of broken ribs told me I’d made a sound decision as the man”s limp frame literally bent double.

Enraged, Tiny screamed and kicked Mute out of my arms like a human football. The man’s body skidded out of sight across the polished floor under one of the stalls. He was going to feel that in the morning.

Dropping his three-hundred-pound body angrily down onto the tile, Tiny straddled my waist and started using both fists to rain blows down onto my torso and face.

Knowing I had to act fast before one connected hard enough to render me unconscious, I locked my knees around the man’s torso and hoisted him up and over my body into the bathroom wall. Like a stone slung from a trebuchet, his skull, which was a mere six inches from the brick, cracked sickeningly against it.

Rolling to my side, I took a second to catch my breath before gaining my feet. The bathroom door opened then, and Becker peeked inside.

Glaring at the man with all the animalistic rage and anger that surfaces during a fight, I panted and said, “I’m all done in here. I’m ready to see the Warden now.”

Swallowing visibly, Becker shot his gaze around the room where three Nazi losers lay moaning and or unconscious.

“What are those guys doing in here? They’re not supposed to be out of their cells,” he asked with mock indignation.

My murderous expression locked onto his frightened one. “I found them like that. You might want to do something about it.”

Becker didn’t move. “Sure. But I’m going to need to take you back to your cell before I call the infirmary.”

“That’s what I thought,” I mumbled, wiping my bloody mouth onto the sleeve of my jumpsuit. “So much for my meeting with the Warden.”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to have to be postponed until I deal with this,” Becker said, in an obvious attempt to cover his lie.

“Do what you have to do,” I stated, knowing full well there”d never been any meeting. It had all been a ploy to teach me a lesson.

It didn”t matter though. As soon as I got out, I’d get back at Pecker for everything he’d done. Both for Evie and for me.

Walking back to my cell, I smiled big, envisioning all the ways I would make this loser pay when I got out of this hell hole in just two short days.

* * *

Evie

I high-tailed it out of the prison as soon as everything was cleaned up after class. Too cowardly to face Becker after the incident in the hallway, I’d cut Garrity two gigantic slices of cake and asked him to give one to the younger guard for me.

Though I doubted any cake was good enough for someone to forgive a knee to the balls, I tried to convince myself the matter was over now.

Besides, what had the man expected? Did he really think I’d want to make out with him in the empty halls of a prison? Yuck! That wasn’t exactly a fantasy of mine. I didn’t know any woman who’d be turned on by that.

However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wouldn’t have had such strong objections if inmate Wilmont had been the one to try and kiss me. If the handsome, tattooed biker had me up against the wall the way Becker had, his muscular arms surrounding me and those beautiful aqua eyes staring deeply into mine, nothing short of a wailing fire alarm would have stopped me from kissing him right back!

Damn, that man got to me! Deciding I needed to cool down and forget the musclebound Adonis before I started doubling down on dumb, I located Bobby’s cell number and hit the call button. I hadn’t spoken to my friend in a few days, and I wanted to check in on her to see how she was doing and if there was anything she needed from the store.

Unfortunately, Bobby didn’t answer and I had to leave her a message instead. Grabbing my purse and keys, I decided I would try back later and head to the store to pick up the final ingredients on my list for the Devil’s Riders party.

Surprisingly, I was kind of looking forward to the event. And not just for the paycheck, but for the socializing aspect. Though I was only twenty-two, I didn’t party like most people my age. I was too busy working multiple jobs and trying to keep the lights on to party at all.

Sighing, I dug through my purse for my shopping list and slung my bag over my shoulder. Making sure to lock the door behind me, I headed out to the bargain grocery store down the street as I considered what a motorcycle club party would be like to attend.

* * *

Cantiville Federal Corrections, Cantiville Nevada

Bishop

Hawk was leaning against the hood of his car as the gates of Cantiville closed behind me. I’d been released today and was going home to my Club. Taking a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in months, my muscles began to slowly relax and the tension in my shoulders to unfurl.

“Jesus Christ!” Hawk cursed when he got a good look at my face. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Shit. I’d forgotten about the bruises. “It seems I offended the Nazi coalition in my brief stay at Cantiville.”

Hawk shook his head in disgust. “We pay good money to the guards to make sure nothing happens to our Brothers on the inside. Reaper’s going to have a fucking fit when he sees what those bastards did to you. He’s going to want payback in the form of blood and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

I shrugged dismissively. “Don’t worry. I took care of it already.”

“I’m sure you did,” Hawk returned, confident in my ability to look after myself. “But your sister’s in the car, and when she gets a load of your face, she’s going to break down into tears. And I can’t have that, man.”

Double fuck. Amelia was here. That was definitely going to complicate matters. “Christ, Hawk! Why did you bring her to this shithole?”

I loved my sister fiercely. So naturally, I didn’t want her to see me like this. That’s why I never let her visit me the entire six months I’d been on the inside. I didn’t want her to have that terrible memory of me. Plus, I didn’t want to give fuckwad guards like Pecker the opportunity to feel my beautiful sister up when she was being patted down and brag about it later. I’d have to kill the man for disrespect like that, and I had no interest in doing a life sentence for the manslaughter of someone so insignificant.

“You think I could stop her?” Hawk stated incredulously. “Fuck, Brother! You know Amelia. She’s stubborn as shit. It was all I could do to keep her from crawling over the Goddamned gates to see you. There was no way I was going to come here today without her by my side. I wanted to bring you some Club pussy for a proper welcome home, but that wasn’t exactly going to be possible with your sister riding shotgun.”

I scrubbed a hand down my tired face. “I guess you’re right.”

“Plus,” Hawk continued, “she’d have seen you at your party tonight anyway. You wouldn’t exactly be able to hide the bruises from her then. Might as well get it over with now.”

I sighed dramatically. “My party? Tell me you”re joking.”

Though I appreciated the fact that everyone wanted to celebrate my return, I wasn’t in the mood for a party. As much as I enjoyed them before doing time, I’d have much rather gotten fucked up quietly in my room with just a handful of Club girls to get me off. No, that wasn’t true. I would have settled for just one. My green-eyed innocent doe, Evie. That would have been a welcome home any guy would have been thankful for.

Hawk snorted. “You didn’t think your sister would miss an opportunity to throw you a welcome home party, did you, Bishop? Man, how hard did those Nazi twats hit you?”

I laughed. “Don’t get it twisted, asshole. I let them get a few knocks in. Don’t you know what they say?” I teased my Club VP. “Chicks dig scars.”

* * *

I sat in the back of the car with Amelia’s golden retriever, Ryder, petting the friendly beast while my sister talked a mile a minute. I’d barely been able to get in a word edgewise the entire time. However, despite the perpetual word vomit, her presence was more comforting to me than anything else in this world could have been. Everything about the woman felt like home to me and it hit me hard just how much I’d missed her while I was away as I listened to her constant, excited chatter.

When she’d seen my face, Amelia had valiantly fought back the tears and given me a bone-jarring hug. “Do you want to talk about it?” she’d asked quietly, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from crying.

Shaking my head, she’d nodded wordlessly. I appreciated that response more than anything she could have ever said to soothe the hurt.

Stepping into the door of the Clubhouse, I was greeted by my chosen family. My Brothers. They cheered me on like I was Babe Ruth taking the field at Yankee Stadium. A beer and several shots were simultaneously forced into my hand and down my throat before I could even speak. Damn! It was good to be home.

Jokes were made about my bruises, about how many guys I’d sucked off while in prison, and which one of the Club girls I wanted to fuck first now that I was home. After about an hour of shooting the shit and drinking, I walked dizzily to the bathroom to take a piss. After six months of abstinence, my tolerance for liquor wasn’t what it used to be.

Before prison, I loved the noise and chaos that Club life offered. Afterward, I felt desperate for a quiet space to retreat to. The thing I wanted most right now was to shower off the stink of my stay at Cantiville, eat some good food, and nut about ten times in the hottest girls I could get my hands on. After that, I’m sure I’d return to my old, lighthearted self.

Wanting my hot shower first, I snuck off to my room, locked the doors behind me, stripped off my clothes, and turned the water on full blast. When it was hot enough to boil a lobster, I stepped inside and took the longest, most well-appreciated shower of my life.

* * *

Evie

I didn’t have the space to fit everything in my small car, so Angel and her husband showed up in a van to help truck it all over to Reaper”s Clubhouse.

Angel’s husband was a huge guy with colorful tattoos and a no-nonsense attitude. I couldn’t believe my sweet friend had been brave enough to talk to the guy, let alone date him. They seemed so different, and yet, they worked so seamlessly together.

Plus, I could tell they were both crazy about each other. In the few minutes I’d spent with the two of them, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. I was jealous of their connection. I’d never had anything close to that in my relationships. Well, make that relationship. I’d only ever dated one guy seriously. Due to my unstable upbringing, I had major trust issues where guys were concerned. Hence my never being able to trust one enough to let a man get close enough to lose my virginity to. And with my parents, who could blame me?

Angel rode shotgun as I followed behind Reaper’s van. I wasn’t sure what I should wear to the party, so I wore something lowkey. I’d chosen some wide-legged, ass-hugging jeans, a tight t-shirt, and a pair of kitten-heeled boots that didn’t allow my hem to drag along the floor. I’d also left my chestnut hair down. The thick mass fell just above my butt in loose waves and it was actually cooperating for once, which I appreciated. As far as makeup was concerned, I wasn’t much of a fan, so I’d only worn some tan eyeshadow and my favorite drugstore mascara.

“Are you sure I’m dressed appropriately?” I asked my friend, checking for the umpteenth time. “I never get out and I don’t even know what constitutes party attire anymore,” I confessed with an embarrassed laugh.

Angel patted my leg. “You look great. I promise. This party is a casual one. Some women will be dressing up, others down. It’s really a free-for-all at Devil’s parties like this.”

“Gotcha,” I said, my hands nervously gripping the steering wheel.

“Speaking of different types of women that will be at the Club,” Angel transitioned conversationally, “I hope you’re not uncomfortable with nudity because there will be an abundance of it tonight.”

Holy shit! What kind of party was this? “Um, I’m not a prude, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Angel laughed again. “I’m not saying you are, but these parties can get a bit wild. You might see things being publicly done that you haven’t seen before.”

I started to sweat. “Like what? Drugs?”

Angel shrugged. “Drugs. People having sex out in the open. Fights. You know, that kind of thing.”

I most certainly did not know. But I didn’t want to seem like a total square, so I simply swallowed hard as I processed this new information. “Um, okay.”

“If you’re uncomfortable at any point in the evening or you”ve had too much to drink, you can come find me and I’ll take you home. I’m not drinking at the moment, so I’ll be your sober taxi.”

My eyes left the road for a second as I glanced in her direction. “I know it’s none of my business, but why aren’t you drinking?”

Angel smiled from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant,” she revealed, joy radiating from her whole being. “I just found out last month!”

“Oh my God, Angel! That’s amazing news! I’m so happy for you,” I said, and truly meant it. I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to becoming a mother than the woman riding beside me.

Her eyes filled with happy tears. “Thank you. I haven’t told many people yet. It’s still so early. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone.”

I nodded vigorously. “I won’t tell a soul. Promise.”

Twenty minutes later, we pulled off the main road onto a dirt one that led to a large gate. Idling up to it, Angel rolled down her window and spoke to the biker manning it. Immediately, the structure opened and I was waved on.

“You’re going to love it here,” Angel assured me, a bright smile gracing her lips. “The guys are going to love you as well.”

That statement both thrilled and terrified me. My heart skipped a beat or two as I wondered if I had what it took to hang with bikers. Oh well. It was too late to back out now. I was here. And, for better or worse, I was about to experience my first MC party in the flesh.