Death Ride (Blue Bandits MC Book 5)

  Death Ride

  Michelle Woods

  Copyright©2016 Michelle Woods

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews and articles. For more information or to request permission contact: woodspublishingdesign@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, groups and incidents are products of author’s imagination or are used in a non-factual manner and are not to be construed as real. Any events, organizations, or persons depicted are entirely coincidental.

  Edited by: Mary Bogart Crenshaw

  Copyright©2016 Shutterstock/Image/342511742

  Copyright©2016 Shutterstock/Image/8173303

  Publisher : Woods Publishing & Design Inc.

  Cover : Woods Publishing & Design Inc.

  Contact : woodspublishingdesign@gmail.com

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Death Rider took another swig of his beer and glanced towards the door. He’d been here for over three hours and Blade was supposed to be here an hour ago. Showing up early was his way of being sure it wasn’t a trap and assuring himself that he had a good escape route planned before the meet. Now though he was thinking it had been a waste of time.

  Reaper called him several weeks ago with Blade’s request to talk and after talking to Blade he’d agreed to meet him alone. He’d made sure he decided when and where the meet was set up because he didn’t trust the man. Blade had agreed quickly, almost too quickly. He’d chosen this bar because there were three exits and one window he could fit through if shit hit the fan. Death trusted Reaper’s gut feelings; they’d saved his ass more than once so when Reaper called to warn him that it could be a trap, he’d listened.

  Death was beginning to think Reaper’s feeling may have saved him again because Blade hadn’t shown up, likely because any move he tried to make here would end with Death walking away unscathed and forewarned about his plans. Rubbing the back of his neck hoping to release the tension there, he leaned back on the bar still watching the door. It was about time for him to get out of here; he had waited long enough for Blade to show.

  Death drank the last of his beer and set the bottle back on the bar before standing up. Digging in his pocket for some credits, he heard the door open and glanced towards it. He saw a pretty brunette in a green dress that fell to her mid thighs step into the bar and pause. The dress was cut low in a deep fitted V that showed off her moderately large cleavage; the skirt was flared and when she moved it swayed back and forth across her sleek thighs. Her waist wasn’t skinny but she wasn’t heavy either, just womanly. Something about her drew his attention strongly and unexpectedly he was transfixed, his gaze following her as she shifted slightly.

  At first he thought that she was the type of woman you would see in a place like this but as he watched her, his assessment changed. She’d seemed like she was the type of woman who knew the score when she’d walked in with confidence but as he watched it that confidence seemed to fade away. The way she held her body seemed off and he knew she wasn’t like the women he usually encountered in a place like this. Women who didn’t mind a good hard fuck and expected nothing more than that. He noted how she seemed to look around as if searching for someone but by the way her fingers worried the hem of her dress, he could tell she wasn’t used to wearing revealing clothing. Death tilted his head watching her, trying to put his finger on why he was fixated on her.

  She stiffened her shoulders, her eyes glancing over to the bar before she moved in his direction. When she neared, he thought she would sit down on the stool next to him but she kept going past him, sitting three stools down. Death sat back down on his own stool now with one eye trained on her. She was younger than he’d first thought, he realized as he studied her face, likely in her early twenties, which made her way too young for him. He watched as she wiggled a little and raised her hand for the barkeep, who moved towards her.

  “What’ll you have?” the bartender, a husky man in his early forties with a thick beard and a bald head, asked her.

  “A whiskey please,” she replied and Death felt her husky, almost shaky voice send a hard rush of desire to his cock. It stood to attention and he shifted slightly trying to get it into a comfortable position without reaching down to adjust it. What drew him to her became very clear as he watched her shift slightly before she lifted the drink and took a quick sip. No woman who spoke like that and worried the hem on her garment was experienced enough to handle a place like this or more importantly a man like him.

  A man, with scruffy looking beard and worn blue jeans, was already advancing on her but Death caught his attention and tapped his gun, shaking his head. The man stared at him for a long moment before nodding and moving away. The woman was still shifting awkwardly on the stool and didn’t notice the man or Death warning him away, which let Death know he was right about her being inexperienced. Death observed her lift the drink again taking a large gulp, her cheeks pinking a little as she set it back on the bar. It was obvious that she didn’t drink much when she coughed a little.

  Death tapped the bar, letting the bartender know that he wanted another beer. He waited to see what she would do next, his whole focus on her now. He would bet that she was the straight-laced type who wanted a bit of a walk on the wild side. She likely didn’t know the dangers of what she was doing in coming here tonight, but he did. If she chickened out at some point most of the men who frequented this place wouldn’t be allowing her to just walk away, which was why he would have to be the man she left with, Death decided.

  As he gazed at her, his hand lifting the beer he’d just ordered to his lips and taking a long swig before setting it back down, he told himself that it had nothing to do with his hardened cock or the desire that now thrummed through him. She leaned back, her eyes casting around the room and landing on several men before coming back to him. She smiled tentatively at him, then turned back to her whiskey.

  Death finished his beer and stood. She glanced at him, her face falling slightly when he tossed credits on the bar for his drinks. He saw her finger sliding around the top of her glass and thought perhaps she was worried he would leave and she’d be stuck with the other offerings in the bar for bed partners. He wasn’t conceited, he just knew that the men who were here tonight weren’t very good looking and many of them didn’t bathe frequently. An inexperienced woman like her wouldn’t want to be with those types of men.

  He moved towards her, standing close behind her, watching as she pulled a tube of lip gloss from her bag and began applying it to her lips. He noted the way her hand shook slightly with the nerves he was sure had her thoughts all jumbled. The gloss made her lips glisten as she turned to glance at him behind her when his hand landed on the bar near her. Her eyes were wide and innocent looking with a bit of fear clouding them. Good, she should be a little frightened by him he wasn’t a nic
e man and this wasn’t the place to come for whatever it was she had in mind.

  “You want to go home with me?” Death asked softly not willing to beat around the bush.

  His mind was made up about having her in his bed and if she was here for the reasons he suspected, it would be easier for her to just get the show on the road so to speak rather than make her wade through awkward conversation that might make her more nervous than she already was. Her eyes widened more and she looked him up and down, her cheeks suddenly pink. She glanced around before she nodded hesitantly and slid off the stool to stand next to him.

  “You don’t want to finish your drink?” he asked, thinking she might need the liquid courage it would give her to walk out of here with him. She glanced at the drink as she shoved the lip gloss back into her purse and shook her head. Death nodded; if she was ready then they were out of here. He took her arm guiding her towards the door with his hand cupping her elbow. She seemed a little scared and her arm trembled where he held it, making him grin. Damn he couldn’t wait to fuck her. His cock was definitely in agreement as it hardened more and he wondered briefly if she would let him fuck her in the alley behind the bar. He quickly discarded the idea despite its appeal because she deserved better than a quick fuck in a back alley.

  Once they were outside he tugged her towards his bike but she hesitated, pulling at her arm, and he released it to turn and face her. She was nervously running her fingers along the hem of her dress again, and her other hand was clutching her purse.

  “You change your mind, sugar?” he asked, hoping that she hadn’t because his cock was throbbing with his need to fuck her against the nearest hard surface.

  “No,” she huskily replied and he felt the word in his groin.

  Fuck, her voice was sexy.

  Death waited to see what else she would say or do. They were standing near the alley and she glanced into it as if afraid someone was going to jump out at them. Death watched her as she stepped toward him, her hands finding his upper arms as she moved closer. He realized she wanted to kiss him when she stood on her tiptoes, her body pressing against his. The soft weight of her breasts pressing into his chest made his inner beast growl in pleasure and jerk against its chains wanting to take her hard and fast.

  Leaning forward, he pulled her closer, his hands on her waist, ready to give her exactly what she wanted. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue rubbing over her lips, but she didn’t open them for him. Death pulled back, looking down at her, wondering suddenly if she was completely innocent—like as in a virgin—because that kiss was not one even an inexperienced woman would have given unless she’d never been kissed before. Death felt a little disoriented suddenly as he stared at her and his hands caught her arms as she frowned at him. Maybe he’d drank a bit more than he’d realized because he felt a little odd like he was recovering from a three-day-bender but that didn’t make any sense.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and Death wondered why she was apologizing to him. He didn’t care if she was a virgin; if she was willing, he would fuck her. His head felt heavy and his arms seemed to be becoming limp and kind of unresponsive. His knees gave out and he was suddenly kneeling on the pavement, her arms still clutched in his hands as he stared at her in shock. His hands fell away from her arms as they stopped working completely.

  Well fuck, she’d just drugged him.

  How the fuck had she done it, he wondered? He knew damned good and well she hadn’t put it in his drink and he was sure she hadn’t stuck him with anything. He stared up at her trying to puzzle it out. She was wiping her lips with a cloth she’d removed from her purse and suddenly the tube of lip gloss popped into his head and he wanted to yell but he was already too disoriented to do so.

  He did manage to utter coldly, “You fucking bitch.”

  “Tsk tsk, Death, my dear boy, such language. I bet you’re wishing now that you weren’t so keen on being a white knight to Becky’s damsel in distress, aren’t you,” Blade said, stepping out of the alley.

  “You don’t have to be so cruel about it,” Becky snapped at him, but he ignored her.

  Death wanted to hit him but his arms still wouldn’t work and his body was becoming heavy. As he watched Blade move closer, his head spun as the drug took more control over his body and he shifted forwards, headed towards the hard concrete.

  Chapter One

  Jamie Franklin watched the biker she’d just drugged fall face first onto the concrete parking lot. She winced. Damn, if he’d been awake that would have hurt like a bitch. Not that it wasn’t going to hurt when he finally did wake up. Guilt assaulted her as she stared down at the man her brother hovered over. She wasn’t too keen on this plan but Evert had insisted. He felt it was the only way they would be able to get the Blue Bandits president to listen to them about the club.

  Not that she thought it would be easy to make him see reason after taking in the intense way he’d looked at her as he’d fallen. After what she had just done to him, he had every right to spit the bitch insult at her but it stung a little that he had called her one. Letting out a sigh, she realized that even though she’d agreed to trap the poor man for Evert, she wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do. He’d been really pissed if the glare he’d managed to give her before he finally passed out had been any indication.

  “Evert, maybe this was a bad idea and we should just leave him here for his MC to find. I mean he was pretty mad and that won’t help your case. And why did you tell him my name was Becky?” Jamie asked while tilting her head to watch Evert check the man’s pulse.

  “Jamie, how many times do I need to tell you that my name’s Blade, not Evert. And I told him you were Becky because I don’t want him to know who you are. If he learns you’re my sister, he will try to use it against me or hurt you to get at me. We’ve also been over why we’re doing this and I’ve already told you this is the only way to make this work.” Her brother glared up at her from where he knelt beside the biker with an exasperated look on his face. She rolled her eyes because he could just get over it, she wasn’t calling him by that silly name.

  “First of all, that’s not what our mother named you so I won’t call you by that stupid handle,” she informed him, wondering why the name his buddies had given him was the only one he wanted to use. Apparently naming your friends something stupid was the same for every man who entered an MC because he’d called the man he was currently turning over Death. Jamie rolled her eyes because it was dumb that they couldn’t just go by the names their mothers had given them. I mean who wanted to be called Death?

  She felt her stomach twist because she would bet “Death” wasn’t his name because he was warm and fuzzy. Nope, that name didn’t bode well for either of them because a handle was usually given to someone for something they were good at. Her brother was good with knives, hence his moniker of Blade.

  Watching Evert roll him all the way over onto his back, Jamie winced, putting her hand to her face in sympathy because Death’s face was scraped and bloody. Damn, he would likely have a scar when the cut on his chin healed. How the ground had done that much damage when he’d only fallen a short distance she couldn’t fathom.

  She continued arguing with her brother, “But I still think this was a really bad idea and we should leave him here and try to convince them another way.”

  “Jam-Jam, it’s all right. This will work.” Evert’s brow furrowed in determination. Jamie internally shook her head. Damn, he was going to be stubborn. Sometimes he could be so damned mule-headed. Not that she was any different and it wasn’t a virtue for either of them. Nope, they were both known to allow that stubborn streak to land them in hot water.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, stop calling me that,” she growled. She hated that nickname, passionately. Her glare was hot and Evert, the damned bastard, grinned and winked at her before he motioned for Hock and Red to come help him get Death up off the ground. Jamie walked behind them as they loaded him into the truck bed.
r />   “Wait, put him in the truck. I can’t drive to the clubhouse with him in the bed like that, I might sling him around and he will be more beat up than he already is,” Jamie protested.

  “Jam-Jam, just get in and drive him. We don’t want anyone to see him and if he happens to wake up, it’s safer if he’s in the bed of the truck,” Blade explained.

  “I don’t care. He’s banged up enough from falling. I refuse to be the one to make it worse, Evert.” Standing with her hands on her hips, she glared at her brother.

  Red and Hock snickered as they shoved Death’s legs into the truck and she watched his head hit the wheel well. Damn, they weren’t even trying to be gentle.

  “Be careful,” she commanded, earning sheepish smiles from the two of them.

  “He’ll be fine. Trust me, he’s had worse than a few scrapes and bruises. You just need to relax,” Blade muttered, rolling his eyes.

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true but if he wakes up all banged up is he going to be in the mood to listen to what you have to say?” Jamie asked with a dark glower.

  “Jam-Jam, let me worry about that. I’ve got this under control. You just drive him back to the clubhouse and we’ll take it from there.” Blade’s voice was frustrated and he looked like he wanted to strangle her. Not that she was worried because she knew he’d never hurt her despite his level of frustration with her.

  “I’ll drive him but don’t expect it to be quick because I am not going to be banging him around the truck bed to get him there fast,” Jamie told him as she stomped towards the truck.

  “Jamie, damn it. Just go a normal speed and try not to draw any of the Blue Bandits’ attention if you see them. If they catch you with their president passed out in the bed, you won’t be treated nicely,” Evert warned, his voice filled with worry.