Chapter 1

TRAX

Riding always helps me clear my head. The wind and the open road enable me to put things into a better perspective. Not to mention, they let me loosen up from being such a hard-ass all the time. I never learned to relax unless I was on my bike. Life taught me I had to fight for anything I wanted. Nothing was ever handed to me. Not as a kid and especially not as an adult.

Today, I needed to ride to get away from everyone. I love the club and the fucked up MC way of life, but sometimes I just need the sound of the road under my tires with the wind in my face and the sun on my back. That's why I've been out riding alone for the last few hours and I'm done.

My head is clear and the tension I've been carrying inside of me has vanished. Riding is my own form of therapy. I spill my ugly secrets to the trees as their leaf-covered branches throw them into the wind to cleanse my soul.

That is if the soul of a devil…a Road Devil, could ever be cleansed.

There was nothing that specifically triggered this ride. The demons of my past will always haunt me. I can never fully be rid of them. I try to bury them down deep, but that only lasts for so long before they creep their way back into my head.

And they had. You would think after all of these years, I could make it past my fucked up childhood.

I can never get past that feeling of abandonment that I live with every day. The people that should have loved me, never did and threw a young child into a world that could only destroy him. And it almost did.

My mother abandoned me twice. Once to the booze, and then finally in her death.

I learned the hard way that smoking in bed when you're dead drunk only leads to nothing short of a fucking disaster. She didn't pay much attention to me when she was alive, but it was better than none.

My brother, Merle, was ten years older than me. I hadn't hit double digits yet when he packed up his shit and left. My brother left me so he could find his own freedom and leave the brutality of the life we lived behind. His years in the army took away the only halfway solid thing I ever had in my life.

And he left me at the mercy of our old man. Will Dixon was a drunk, brutal man. I have the physical and mental scars to prove that.

And decades later, he can still get to me, even though he's dead.

Every once in a while I need to take a ride like this. I had felt everything accumulating up on me…the garage, the club, and just me getting into my head too much.

The responsibilities of the garage I run, I take very seriously. I've always been good at fixing shit. Growing up, I learned to work on cars and bikes because I had nothing else to do. The MC helped with that.

I was a lost teen with no place else to go except to find my older brother. I split from my ol' man at sixteen and never looked back. He was oil and I was water and he was on my ass every single fucking day. Our last fight was the first time he lost. I was finally big enough to take him and I did. That night I left him bloody and unconscious on the filthy kitchen floor as I quickly shoved my shit into my worn out backpack and took off. If I stayed any longer, they'd be hauling me off to jail for murder.

I wanted him dead, but not at the price of my own life. He wasn't going to fuck me up any more than he already had. So I found my brother instead, who after a stint in the army with a not so honorable discharge, had joined a motorcycle club. That's where I learned to work on cars and bikes.

The club had a small garage for the guys to work on their own vehicles. Then they opened it to the public fixing cars here and there, but not many wanted to bring in their vehicles with all of those pissed off looking bikers around. Now many years later, the place has changed and I run that garage – Road Devils Motors.

It's no longer a place that the people of Angel Valley ignore. We do a good job at a reasonable price. Now we have plenty of steady work since the townspeople are no longer afraid of the garage. The shop is finally paying its way and then some. When I took it over, we were in the red every month. We were losing money and customers because the brother that ran the club was an asshole.

Now it's under my control and the more money we make, the more I feel I am contributing to the club.

My club.

The Road Devils Motorcycle Club - Georgia charter. That's us.

I've been with the club for more years than I want to count. I'm not one of the young bucks, but I ain't old either. I still have as much power in my fist as I did when I was in my twenties. Working out ain't my thing. I have brothers that live to do that like Diesel and Striker. I keep myself strong with good old-fashioned hard work. Lifting heavy car parts keeps me in shape.

I have a dozen guys that work for me at the shop. I live with over two dozen more. I'm surrounded by dicks all fucking day long. The clubhouse is always busy with shit going on since we're such a big chapter.

With the single members living there, it's practically a party every night. We have plenty of booze. We have plenty of willing women be it the club whores who we call Hellions or the Bang Bunnies which are the girls looking just for a good time with a biker. Sex ain't a problem for any of us since we have access to it 24/7.

As much as I love my life as a Road Devil, there are just times that I need space. I'm a loner at heart and a long afternoon ride like this clears the chaos that will creep up on me sometimes.

I've already been out for a couple of hours so it's time to head back home. I'm looking forward to having a few beers with the guys when I notice the black clouds that were on the horizon are not so far away anymore. I pick up the pace hoping to outride the storm coming in fast behind me but when I come over a rise, I see an SUV pulled off to the side of the road with flashers on.

Even from a distance, I can tell it's a woman and as much as I don't want to get soaking wet, I know I have to stop. Fixing cars is what I do. Plus, I can't leave her stranded out here in the middle of nowhere. That just ain't me.

So I pull over and park the bike, not taking my eyes off her for a second. I'm being a good Samaritan here, but that ain't gonna mean I'll be stupid about it either.

I take off my lid hanging it on the handlebars. As I walked toward her, my head confirms what my dick has already seen…she's smoking hot. She shouldn't look this good, but she does. I don't care that she's sweating like a pig in the hot Georgia sun. So am I. Her light brown hair's a mess and her face is clean of any makeup that girls use to try to make them look better. She's in simple jeans and a tank top which is a change since the girls at the club that dress in skimpy skin-tight clothes that leave nothing to the imagination.

Oddly, my heart is picking up the pace as I get closer to her. My dick is well beyond that so I'm actually wishing I held onto my lid so I could use it to cover the big boner that started the second I saw her.

Instead, I try to use my hands and not be obvious about it.

"Hey, got a problem?" I ask.

She hesitates for a second. "Flat tire and I can't get the spare out."

Yeah, I know I should have noticed it as I walked up to her but I didn't. One, I had eyes only for the hottie and two, she has so much of her shit out of the back of the SUV it's hiding the flat from me.

"I could use some help. I have ten dollars I could give you," she offers.

"Fuck, no."

I instantly see the disappointment in her eyes and she immediately offers me ten more. There is no way I'm taking any money from her for changing a damn tire. Since she couldn't even get the spare out of the well, I know that she could never have done this on her own. She needs definitely needs me.

Except we got a bigger problem approaching…that storm is already on our ass.

"Naw, that ain't it. I ain't gonna take any money from you for changing a tire. It's that we just ain't got the time. You see those black clouds behind me?"

Her surprised eyes let me know that she didn't see the storm coming at us.

"Been trying to outrun it, but it's almost upon us. Unless you want all this shit to get wet, we better get it back in the cage. If you let me wait out the rain with you, I'll change the tire when it stops. If not, I'm on my way. There's an underpass I might make it to a few miles down the road."

It was up to her on what happened next.

I could see her weighing the pros and cons of getting into her cage with a strange biker. I didn't blame her for being cautious, but we were running out of time.

"Listen, I ain't gonna hurt ya if you're worried about that. That ain't me, but I'm feeling the rain and if you don't make up your mind, I'm outta here," I told her.

She hesitated again before saying. "I'll take your help. Thank you."

By the time we get everything back in the SUV, the rains started. She jumps in on the driver's side and I take off my cut and fold it quickly before shoving it into the saddlebag on the back of my bike.

Cuts and cages don't get along, so I ain't getting into her cage with it on.

I dash into the passage seat with water dripping from me. She hands me a towel that she was using on herself and I dry off the best I can.

"I appreciate you stopping. I hadn't seen anyone for a long time. My name is Sophie, by the way," she says with a smile.

Now that we're so much closer, I get a really good look at her. Her long hair is well past her shoulders with blonde highlights poking through. Sophie's eyes are the color of my favorite whiskey as they smile at me. She's the prettiest woman I have seen in a very long time.

Hell, she's do damn gorgeous that my dick is doing its best to pop out of my jeans to say hello. My zipper is pressing into it so much that it's making it extremely painful. I don't remember that last time this has happened to me. If I give it the adjustment it needs she'll easily see what's going on.

And right now I prefer the dryness of being in her car, then her kicking me out into the hard rain that's hitting the roof of her SUV. Trying to ignore my dick seems like the best option, but it's not that easy.

I haven't even told her my name yet as I think about what those plump lips of hers would taste like. I'm about to tell her my name is Trax. That's the name that everyone calls me now, but I change my mind and give her my real name instead. "Daryl. You got Kansas tags. What are you doing out here?"

And just as she starts to explain, the heavens opened up with rain coming down so hard we can't even see out the windows. The sound of it hitting the roof makes us have to talk louder. "You wouldn't have made it to that overpass."

"Probably not dry, but I wouldn't have gone the speed limit to get there," I tell her. Nothing worse than being on rain-slick roads on a motorcycle. "So, why Georgia? Traveling through?" I asked again.

"Nope. Moving here. I grew up here a long time ago, but my mother moved us to Kansas when I was in high school. I lived there until two days ago. It's no longer a place I want to be, so coming back here and temporarily moving in with my cousin seemed like a good option. Fresh start time," she told me before asking, "You a Georgia boy?"

"Born and bred. Ain't known nuthin' else." I never left the state until I patched in with the club.

And that's where the conversation dropped. I've never been good at small talk with women so I have no idea what to say next. While we had a monsoon going on outside the car, it was quiet and stifling hot inside. I wonder what's going through her head right now.

Sophie

I can't believe I'm sitting here in my car with some strange guy I met just a few minutes ago. What the hell am I thinking? Sure, he's incredibly hot, but hot guys can be serial killers too, right? If it wasn't for the heat and the fact I was so damn tired, maybe I'd be thinking straighter.

Thinking safer.

Two long days of driving over a thousand miles with nothing but the radio for company had pushed not only me but also my car to our absolute limits. I just needed to get to Angel Valley, where my cousin Chrissy lived, and I could finally take a breath. Except I was maybe less than an hour away when I started to hear a THUD, THUD coming from the car

I had no idea what small town was close by. I just knew I was somewhere in Georgia and this was the last long stretch before back roads became my only option. And this wasn't all that much of a highway, to begin with since it was only one lane each way. The road had been empty of any sign of a town or buildings for the last at least five miles.

I wasn't lost by any means, but I was fucked.

The car slowed down as I pulled it off to the shoulder. I threw the parking brake on before I got out of my SUV. The southern air was so heavy with humidity that I felt moisture bead on my skin the second I opened the door. I had forgotten how hot and uncomfortable a Georgia summer was.

Except, I had an even bigger problem than the heat. Sure enough, I had a flat tire. The back driver's side tire was down flat onto the hot pavement. This is one of those problems that women dread the most. To me, this always fell under the category of "a guy thing."

And I was fresh out of guys.

Plus, to make matters worse, everything I owned was packed into the back of my Honda CR-V. In order to get to the spare, I would have to empty out my carefully and very tightly packed SUV.

When I mean everything I owned was in the back that was the truth. I had left Kansas behind and what couldn't fit in the back of the Honda and on the floorboards didn't come. I kept the back seat free of most of my belongings, as that was my bed last night. With all four doors locked, I spent an uncomfortable night trying to sleep at some roadside truck stop on the Missouri/Tennessee border.

In my escape from Kansas, there was no extra money for a motel.

I stood there staring at the flat willing it to fix itself. Praying for a nice hot southern guy in a pickup to stop by and give me a hand. I waited about fifteen minutes and since neither happened, I knew I was going to have to change this tire by myself. It was the last thing I wanted to do today, but I simply had no choice.

This road hadn't had very many cars on it the entire time I drove it and if I was ever to make it to Chrissy's place in Angel Valley, someone would have to change it. It wasn't anything I had ever done before, but how hard could it be? Right?

Try freakily impossibly hard. I had emptied almost all of my stuff onto the side of the road. Sweat was pouring off me in very unladylike amounts. Under the trunk floor, I found the spare tire that looked awfully small, a weak-looking jack, and a tire iron. I got the jack out and the tire iron fine, but I couldn't even figure out how to get the spare out. It was locked in so tight, I couldn't get it to budge.

I sat on the edge of my bumper trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Do I wait for help to miraculously arrive on this isolated road or do I start walking to the next town wherever that may be? Calling for help wasn't an option. Sure I had a cell phone, but of course, I had to break down where there was zero reception. Not even half a bar.

Nothing had gone right for me in the last few days. It was as if the universe decided to take out all of its anger on me. It was a "Let's-fuck-with-Sophie" week.

It started with me being fired from my job. The company said they were downsizing, but that didn't help me at all. So instead of coming home at five-thirty, I sadly returned to the small apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Sean around eleven in the morning.

I was already crying when I opened the bedroom door. Instead of an empty room, I found Sean fucking his best friend Jordan from behind while Jordan had his face buried in the snatch of some girl I had never seen before. Needless to say, it was now three days later, and I was trying to leave my pitiful life in Kansas behind.

Just when the tears started to gather in my eyes, I heard a loud rumble in the air. I wasn't sure what direction it was coming from, but it was getting louder. Then coming up over a slight incline I saw a lone motorcycle.

Finally.

Suddenly, I was torn about waving the rider down to ask for help or let them go by without a glance. I was never more aware of being alone, helpless female as I was in those few seconds of indecisiveness. But the choice was taken out on my hands when the biker slowed down and pulled up behind my SUV.

My heart started to beat faster when he turned the bike off and put the kickstand down. He got up off the motorcycle and I noticed two things right away. He had a nice body when he turned to face me. Toned, perfect for his height which I took to be just under six foot but it was his shoulders and arms that had me gripping the tire iron firmer in my hands.

I didn't know if that was from fear or excitement.

His shoulders went on for miles. God, I never saw such wide shoulders before. Instantly, I wondered if he had a problem buying shirts to fit them, but when I saw what he was wearing, I knew that it didn't matter. From the frayed edges on his shirt, he was most likely used to cutting the sleeves off. Just like the one he had on now was well worn under the leather vest he was wearing. That was a strange thing to be wearing on such a hot day.

It really was.

Then I took a good look at his strong tattooed muscular arms. They weren't big like he lifted weights, but they showed he was no stranger to physical work. If I wasn't so nervous about him, I would probably be drooling all over myself.

I wiped my lips just to make sure I wasn't.

His tattoos weren't full-arm sleeves but small pieces here and there. Each a little unique and I wanted to see them up close.

What was wrong with me? It was so hot I could feel the sweat dripping down my back in a very unladylike manner as I stood on the side of a road while I lusted after this biker who could be ready to kill me for all I knew.

Yeah, it had to be heatstroke or something like that. Either that or I had totally lost my damn mind.

He took off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars. He shook his longish hair loose as he strutted over to me. He didn't walk, that man slowly strutted his fine self over to me. He was so not my type. At least not my old type. Did I have a new type? Maybe I did, but either way, why was I so wet between my legs?

"Hey, got a problem?" he asked as he stood in front of me.

"Yeah, I do." Do I tell him about the tire or the soaked panties I'm sitting on? Holy Christ! Maybe I'm too exhausted from the drive, but one minute I'm gripping this tire iron as if I need it to save my life and the next I'm thinking about how to possibly get him naked.

There is something seriously wrong with me.

And to confirm how fucked up I am, I'm now sitting in my SUV with him right next to me waiting for the rain to stop. Or for him to kill me. Whichever comes first. That's where my head it at.

The rest of me is on a completely different page. It has me thinking of doing naughty things with Daryl.

Very naughty things.

At least I knew the name of the guy since we introduced ourselves. This way I'll know who either kills me or maybe even gives me the ride of my life.

I think I'm losing it.

This is so not me. I don't think about having sex with a guy after meeting him for just a few minutes. Nope, that is so not me. I'm boring. I'm conservative and I don't think about fucking a guy this way. That was until this hunk of biker strutted his way into my life.

Crazy right? I was told not a handful of days ago how boring I was in bed. To quote my ex-Sean, "It's like fucking a corpse." Even though I know we had a lot of hateful words going back and forth at the end, it still hurt. Maybe if he'd been a little more attentive in bed, I could have gotten into it more.

Maybe he was saving for his friend who evidently liked it up the ass. I didn't know if Sean was gay or bi. He had pushed me to try anal sex and that was a firm "no fucking way" from me. Apparently, his buddy Jordan wasn't as "sexual repressed" as I was. Not to mention that my turning down the threesome to make it a foursome made me a frigid bitch.

From the first second I met Jordan, he skeeved me out. Like major disgusting, skin-crawling vibes so there was no way on earth that man was ever going to touch me…with or without clothes on. I never understood how Sean could be friends with him. This whole thing was surreal. I felt like I was caught up in a bad porno dream because the whole time I stood there watching what was going on in my bed, Sean never stopped fucking Jordan's ass as he invited me to join them.

This wasn't sitting down with friends for coffee, it was a fucking orgy! On my bed!

I declined Sean's invite by screaming, "Hell no!" at the top of my lungs. Of course, that made me a cold, unexciting bitch. Daryl was making me feel anything but cold. Instead, he was making me feel all hot and tingling in places that had no business feeling that way with a guy I met just a few minutes ago.

The quiet in the car was just starting to feel uncomfortable when I remember something that Daryl said. "Hey, I think you called my Honda a cage. Did I hear right?"

"Sure did."

"Why?"

"Bikers refer to closed in vehicles as cages. We prefer the open air of the motorcycle than being caged up in one of these."

I smiled at his words and the timing. "Yes, but I bet in weather like this, my cage is a pretty good alternative to your bike."

He actually cracked a half-smile, "One of the few times. I'll give you that."

"I bet all the girls love riding on the back of your bike. Hanging onto a hot guy like you looks like fun."

The atmosphere in the car instantly changed. "I ride alone. Never had a skirt on the back of my Harley. Doubt I ever will," he snapped.

The tone of his deep, raspy voice let me know I hit a sore topic. Something told me he wasn't some weekend rider. It went a lot deeper than that.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. I'm saying things I never normally would. Must be this awful heat," I quickly apologized.

I bet he regretted stopping to help me as much as I regretted opening my mouth. Except, it wasn't all my fault. I knew zero about bikers. How did I know they didn't really have a ton of women on the back of their motorcycles? Was that the norm or was that simply Daryl?

Instead of pissing him off, even more, I turned to look outside the window. The rain was coming down in sheets as I kept any other comments to myself. Was this storm ever going to end so I could get away from Daryl and get on with my incredibly boring and fucked up life?