Satan's Revenge (8 page)

“Whatever’s on tap,” I answer to his nonverbal question. As he turns and reaches out his right arm to grab a glass, I spot a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. It’s an eagle with its wings spread wide, and its talons are clutching a swastika.

I look away quickly before he sees me staring at it. I try to turn casually in my chair toward the rest of the bar, and glance around nonchalantly. Yep, definitely only white people in here. And definitely more than a coincidental number of shaved heads. And there, another swastika tattoo on the bicep of a guy seated on a couch.

No doubt about it now: I’m definitely in a skinhead bar. Or is it neo-Nazi? Whatever, I don’t know the difference. All I know is, I definitely don’t want to be here.

The bartender drops my beer on the bar, startling me. I jump a little in my seat, and try to give him a polite smile to cover it up.

“How much?” I ask.

He looks me up and down again, then licks his lips.

“Purebred-looking girl like you…no charge,” he murmurs lasciviously.

I smile tightly and take a ten out of my wallet and slide it across to him.

“Keep the change,” I reply, and take a sip of the beer.

He frowns, and opens his mouth to say something more when a door at the back of the bar flies open, and a couple more skinheads fall out, laughing hysterically. The door sticks open, and I lean over on my stool to try to get a better view of where they’re coming from.

I spot several round tables, with men sitting around each one. They don’t all look like skinheads, though, and most of them are holding playing cards. I scan the room quickly, and suddenly spot Marcus. He’s sitting with his profile to me, frowning down at the cards in his hand.

My mouth drops open in surprise. Even though I followed him here, it’s still a shock to see him in a place like this. My gaze shifts as a figure passes by the door and walks around to the rear of the nearest card table. The man is well-built, with a dark, almost black beard that’s several inches long. His head, like so many of the others, is shaved. He leans down to speak to the dealer, and I can tell by the way the dealer responds that the man has some authority.

I’m not sure why he has caught my attention. I realize I’m staring and look away quickly. I frown…something about the man’s eyes. I’ve seen him before but he looks so different.

My head snaps back to the room as I realize who it is: Ace. Rooster’s best friend. I thought he was dead.

Chapter Eight

I stare at Ace through the open door, my heart stopped in my chest. Another skinhead approaches him and whispers something in his ear.

Suddenly, my vision is cut off as someone realizes the door is ajar and shuts it. A lightheaded feeling comes over me and I realize I’m about to have an anxiety attack. I slip off the stool and head out onto the street, forcing myself to walk slowly until I’m away from the building, and then I allow myself to run back to my car.

With shaking hands, I open the door, and struggle to get the keys into the ignition. The car turns on, and I peel away from the curb. I drive two blocks, and my vision starts to pinhole.

I pull to the side of the road, worried I’m about to black out and crash. I take my hands off the wheel and force myself to take a deep breath. I take my purse from the passenger seat and dig around inside for my phone. I flip it open and am about to select Drifter’s number from the favorites list. But I pause.

The first thing he’s going to ask is why I was in some skinhead bar/gambling den in the first place. And then I will say I was following Marcus, which he is not going to like. I told him I would leave it alone and here I am doing the opposite.

I put down the phone and turn on the radio. There’s a soothing Phil Collins song on, so I sing along a little. It will help me breathe more deeply, which I need to do because I’m definitely hyperventilating; I can feel tingling in my fingers already.

I glance into my side mirror just to make sure no one has followed me out of the bar. Ace’s face pops into my head again and I can feel my heart speed back up.

The last time I saw him was the night the Devil’s Army raided the Sons’ clubhouse. He was running down the upstairs hallway, chasing after Cherish. He attacked her, and I came up behind him and knocked him out. I left him handcuffed to her bed post.

I never asked about his fate, but I had always assumed…I wrack my brain, trying to remember more details about that night. There was so much chaos, and I was in shock, but I remember seeing a couple of the Army members being held in the corner of the lounge. Was Ace one of them? I think they were escorted out at gunpoint by some of the Sons, and it was clear what was going to happen to them.

My attempt to focus on that memory, as traumatic as it was, has calmed me down slightly, enough that my vision has cleared. I step back on the gas and drive home slowly, forcing myself to hum along to the music because it will make me breathe.

When I get home, I pull into the garage and kneel as the dogs surround me in the kitchen. I click my tongue and they follow me into the bedroom, where I fall onto the bed. They jump up with me, and flank me on either side as I bury my head in the pillow and begin to cry. The tension in my body feels like it has peaked and is now pouring out through my tear ducts.

I feel Scout whine and push at my arm worriedly with his cold nose. I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my hand in his thick, white and brown fur. My sobbing begins to quiet, and I turn over onto my back and wipe my eyes. I look around the bedroom, feeling like I’m just coming back to earth. The familiar sights of my life with Drifter calm me down.

Drifter is strong, and I trust him, and together we will figure this Ace situation out. I guess he must have escaped that night, but I know the Sons will want to know that he’s still in town. And Marcus…god, I can’t believe he’s hanging out with people like that.

I’ll have to tell Drifter I was following Marcus. It won’t go over well, but I’ll find a way to tell him so that he’ll listen.

I hear the sound of the front door opening, and the dogs jump off the bed and run into the hall. They’re not barking, so I know it’s Drifter, home from work. Must’ve taken his truck, because I didn’t hear his bike. I hear him go into the kitchen and turn on the water –probably refilling the dogs’ bowls—then his footsteps come down the hall toward the bedroom.

He peers around the doorframe, and I’m so glad to see him I could cry again.

“There you are,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you were home…” he trails off as he studies my face. “You OK?”

I nod, and open my arms wide. I don’t want to talk right now, all I want is to feel his body on top of mine. He smiles and kicks off his boots, then walks over to the bed, crawling up the foot of it and lying down directly on top of me. I wrap my arms around his neck and hook my feet together over his thighs. His weight and scent squeeze out the last of my anxiety and I nuzzle my nose into his bearded cheek.

He shifts his hips slightly on top of me, and that’s all it takes for my thoughts to shift completely. I run my hand gently across his wide back, his navy t-shirt rippling underneath my fingers. I squeeze my legs a little tighter around him, and he knows exactly what I want.

He nudges my cheek now, pushing my face gently to the left, and softly kisses the right side of my neck. He makes his way up and over my jaw bone and to my mouth. His lips part mine, and he delicately reaches his tongue into my mouth. I press my tongue back against his, and I feel his cock growing hard between my legs.

I hear him breathe deeply and his hands move down and grasp my waist. I realize I’m still wearing my sandals so I kick them off without taking my eyes off his. He pulls his torso up and off me, and tucks his hands under my t-shirt, slowly taking it off over my head. I reciprocate, taking his shirt off, too, and then run my hands over his hard pecs and down to the waistband of his work jeans.

He sinks back down on top of me, my plain cotton bra pressing against his chest. I feel his hand lingering just above my right knee, and then it runs up my thigh, passing tantalizingly close to my crotch, and then smoothly over the side of my stomach. I love the sensation of his rough, calloused hands on my soft skin.

He pitches his body to the side, and rolls off me. He smiles, his white teeth standing out from his tanned skin, and a thrill runs through me. His hand is still on my stomach, and he moves it down, carefully unbuttons my jeans and pulls down the zipper. Then he gets up on his knees and moves a little lower on the bed. He pulls my legs toward him and takes the bottom of my jeans in his hands, pulling them slowly off my body.

I’m in white panties that match my bra, and Drifter pauses, looking me over. He places a hand on my ankle and runs it up my leg. I still under his gaze, marveling at the fact that this man is admiring my body. Me.

Now he unbuttons his own jeans and slips them off, sitting up on the bed to pull them away and toss them onto the floor. He leaves on his dark green boxers, though I can see the tip of his cock pressing against the waistband. I squirm slightly, in anticipation of what’s to come.

He lies back down on his side next to me and leans forward to kiss me again. I open my mouth wider now, and he probes me deeply with his tongue. My hips rise off the bed involuntarily, and I wrap my hand around the back of his thick neck. I feel his hand on my hipbone, pressing it down into the bed. I moan as he lets his fingers trail along the top of my panties, just above my mound.

His hand slips under the cotton momentarily, and then withdraws. He reaches his other hand under my back and slips the clasp of my bra open, then takes a strap in each hand and pulls it off my arms and tosses it to the floor. He bends his head down and circles my areola with his tongue, the circles getting tighter and tighter until he takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks, hard. Sensation shoots from my crotch to my breast and I gasp.

He moves his head to my other breast, kissing across my sternum, and I trail my fingers across his chest and down his hard abs, feeling each muscle stand out against my fingertips. I reach inside the opening of his boxers and free his huge member. He moans against my breast as I grasp the base of his cock in my hand and move up to the tip, letting it rest in my palm before moving back down again.

He quickly moves down my stomach and his dick drops from my hand, out of reach as he licks my skin just above my panties. He moves down over the cotton and breathes hot air against my clit. I moan, and he buries his face in me, pressing his tongue against my panties. I gasp, longing to feel him touch me directly.

He reads my mind, and a second later I feel his fingers curl under the edges of my underwear and pull them down over my legs. I point my toes as he whisks them off, and feel him kiss the tender skin of my inner thigh. He pulls my knees apart and bends his head down. I close my eyes as he presses his warm tongue against my clit. Pleasure shoots through me and I cry out as he flicks his tongue back and forth against me.

I bunch the duvet cover in my fists and arch my hips upward as an orgasm quickly builds inside me. As always, I’m shocked by how quickly his touch gets me going. His tongue darts mercilessly back and forth across my clit, and then I feel two of his fingers inside me, stretching me apart, pressing against my g-spot.

“Oh…ohhh,” I cry, as he takes me to the edge. He begins to thrust his fingers up and down and I fall apart around his hand, my hips bucking off the bed as I explode into an orgasm.

I feel him kissing me just above my mound and he slowly removes his fingers from inside me. I slowly open my eyes just in time to watch him lick my pleasure from his hand. I smile at him and he pushes himself up on his elbows, army-crawling his way back up my body. I see that he has taken off his boxers somewhere along the way and as he reaches my chest, I put my hands on either side of his chest and push him up, so that he’s forced onto his knees on either side of my torso.

I slide my hands between his legs and over his ass and pull him up even further so that his knees are on either side of my shoulders. Now my head is resting on a pillow directly in front of his erect cock, and I’m staring up at him. I sit up a little on my elbows and lick him from base to tip. I look up at him and he’s starting down at me, his mouth slightly open, watching me work his dick.

I take him in my mouth, wrapping my lips around his tip and pressing down until his cock hits the back of my mouth. I swirl my tongue around him as I pull him back out, then work my way back down again. Now I pick up the pace, pressing my lips firmly around him as I take him in and out of my mouth. I hear him moan, and look up to see him tilt his head back, his jaw muscles tense.

“Oh, fuck, Violet…” he murmurs, and pulls his hips back, taking his dick out of my mouth. He looks back down at me and bends to support himself on his arms as he lies back down on top of me. I feel his throbbing dick press against my mound and my breasts flatten under his weight as he kisses me. Our tongues taste of each other’s pleasure and our mouths are open as wide as possible, desperate to connect.