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  Devil’s Sins

  A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blazing Angels MC)

  Naomi West

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  Books by Naomi West

  Devil’s Vow

  Devil’s Heart

  Devil’s Ink

  Devil's Revenge

  Maddox

  Stripped

  Jace

  Grinder

  Contents

  Devil’s Sins: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blazing Angels MC)

  1. Scarlett

  2. Cage

  3. Scarlett

  4. Cage

  5. Scarlett

  6. Scarlett

  7. Scarlett

  8. Cage

  9. Cage

  10. Scarlett

  11. Scarlett

  12. Cage

  13. Scarlett

  14. Cage

  15. Scarlett

  16. Scarlett

  17. Cage

  18. Scarlett

  19. Cage

  20. Scarlett

  21. Scarlett

  22. Cage

  23. Scarlett

  24. Cage

  25. Cage

  Epilogue

  Devil’s Vow: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bloody Wraiths MC)

  Books by Naomi West

  Mailing List

  Devil’s Sins: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blazing Angels MC)

  By Naomi West

  An enemies-to-lovers surprise baby MC romance.

  SCARLETT

  Cage is the story of a lifetime.

  A big, bad biker.

  Snarly. Growly. Raunchy. HOT.

  But he is also something else:

  Trouble, with a capital T.

  I should’ve known better than to fall in his bed.

  But I fell anyways, and now it’s time to pay the price.

  What’s that price, you ask?

  Oh, no big deal.

  Just a BIKER’S UNEXPECTED BABY in my womb.

  CAGE

  The sassy reporter is sticking her nose where it don’t belong.

  But Scarlett doesn’t like being told what to do.

  She can fight all she wants.

  But I ain’t gonna let some news chick pry in my club’s business.

  So I take her outside. Give her a piece of my mind.

  But I accidentally gave her something else, too.

  A baby.

  Now, all the stakes are higher.

  There’s a war brewing.

  Threats on the horizon.

  All I know is this:

  If my enemies touch Scarlett or our child…

  I’ll burn their world to the ground.

  1

  Scarlett

  “I can’t believe you’re dressing up for them!” Krissy exclaims. She’s sitting on the bed as I stand in front of the mirror, switching between dresses. Krissy’s wearing one of her mega dresses. It’s more of a cloak, really. It’s the same color as her hair, bright red, and it flows down all the way to her ankles, like some kind of medieval contraption. She tosses it about as she speaks.

  “I’m not dressing up for them,” I counter, holding the sparkly green so it covers my sea-blue. I’m tall and thin, so using my breasts as a weapon is pretty much out of the question. But my cheekbones are high. People have said that, anyway. Once, a boy in college said I had a princess look. But that was minutes before he tried to stick his hand down my pants. So there you go.

  “What are you doing then?” Krissy gestures at the mess of crumpled dresses on the floor.

  “I’m choosing my weapon.”

  She giggles. “So let me get this straight. You’re going to just walk up to the Blazing Angels’ clubhouse. You know, the Blazing Angels. The scariest part about Steep Rock. And you’re going to ask for a story. Just ask for it.”

  “Look.” I spin on Krissy, doing my serious face. She giggles again. “Journalism is dying, especially the type I want to get into. Long-form journalism is basically sitting in an old people’s home waiting, just waiting. I have to do something.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re the only person I know who would think you can solve that with a dress.”

  “Yeah, well.” I shrug and turn back. “The sparkles are too much, aren’t they?”

  “Probably a little. I wish you would listen to me. It’s not safe. They’re a violent gang.”

  “I know what they are.”

  “They have guns.”

  “Lots of people have guns.”

  “Yeah, fine. But they have guns. Like the serious ones.”

  I arch my eyebrow at her in the mirror. “Which guns aren’t serious?”

  She groans and stands up. It makes a ruffling sound, all the folds of her dress rustling together. “What’s your plan? Work at the call center until the Blazing Angels give you a story?”

  “Pretty much. I know, it’s not a great plan. But there are no jobs for me in this town, not yet. The newspaper won’t even take on an intern. I need to bring something to somebody. Maybe I’ll make a podcast out of the story. I don’t know.”

  “What story?”

  “I don’t know!” I groan.

  She goes to the bedside table and sips her soda. She has a round, kind face. We were childhood friends and then we drifted apart in high school. But since I came back, Krissy’s the only Steep Rocker I actually want to hang out with.

  “At least you have a plan,” she says with a touch of irony. “With a plan, you can do anything.”

  “I’m going with the blue.” I toss the sparkly green on the floor.

  “Great choice.” She rolls her eyes. “Isn’t there something else you can look into? What about the mayor?”

  “What about the mayor?”

  “Corruption. Something like that. I’m sure there’s something going on.”

  “Are you? What’ve you heard?”

  “I haven’t heard anything. I just don’t want you to go to that clubhouse.”

  “I’m going, Krissy. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  “How will you be careful? What if they decide to rape and kill you? What could you possibly do to defend yourself?”

  “You’re so morbid. As far as I know, the Blazing Angels have never hurt a woman. Or a child.”

  “As far as you know,” she repeats bitterly.

  Five minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror in a blue dress that cuts just above my knees. My tights are pitch-black. I wear skater-type sneakers with it. I’d prefer to wear some short heels, but I’ve never been any good at running around in heels.

  “Some of the girls in college could run in heels.” I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling on the sneakers. “I don’t know how.”

  “No, me neither. They’re a special breed. They’re like unicorns or something.”

  We giggle and then I make for the door.

  “Is that my cue?” Krissy follows me into the living room. She looks around my small apartment. It seems smaller because of the clutter. “Scarlett, why do you insist on living like an animal?”

  “Maybe I’m an animal at heart.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Krissy offers, as we walk down to the street.

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you seen all this stuff in the newspaper?” Krissy asks. She’s driving slowly, taking her time around the corners. Steep Rock sits right in the middle of glorious nature, mountains and forest bordering two sides, a river bordering the other. It’s picturesque. At least that’s how the tourism brochures put it.

  �
�Yes,” I mutter. Of course I have!

  “Two men have been killed, they said. They’re killing each other like animals.”

  “But they don’t know that it was the Blazing Angels.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “Another club?”

  Krissy sighs quietly. Sometimes she gets tired of my constant questioning.

  She stops on the edge of town, near the river. The clubhouse sits opposite the river, in the middle of a small dusty field. The grass has been mowed down by their bikes until there’s almost nothing left. It’s ten a.m., bright and sunny. The parking lot is almost empty.

  “Are you sure about this?” Krissy asks. She chews her lip. “I feel like I’m looking at some horror movie set. You’ll go in and never come out.”

  “I’m sure,” I tell her.

  “I’m waiting here.” She folds her arms stubbornly when I turn to her in protest.

  “They might see you.” I put my hand on her arm. “Listen, I promise I’ll call you if I need help, okay? You can come and pick me up.”

  She agrees grudgingly. When I get out of the car, she drives away even slower than she drove here. It’s like she’s waiting for me to signal her to return. When I don’t, she drives on.

  I tighten the strap on my handbag as I approach the clubhouse. My heart drums loudly in my ears. It’s difficult to hear myself think. I would often talk about doing things like this when I was in college. But it seemed much easier back then, sitting in my dorm room. Talking about all the crazy things I was going to do. It’s much easier to talk about stuff like that.

  I’m at the clubhouse entrance when the sound of struggling comes from around the back. I instinctively move toward it, out of sight of the entrance. A trash can makes a rattling sound. A bottle smashes. A man lets out a growling yelp. Another man, with a higher voice, is talking very fast. I hug the wall, creeping around until they come into view. I move even closer, crouching down behind a trash can. I stop. I watch. I try to make myself invisible.

  The man wearing the Blazing Angels leather jacket is almost traditionally handsome. His hair is clipped short, army style. His jaw is strong. His lips are expressive. As he shouts, I picture him in a movie. It doesn’t look out of place. His eyes are dark green, I think. He is tall and muscular, but not crazy big like some of these modern bodybuilders. The other man is shorter, but stockier. He’s wearing overalls with oil flecking the white T-shirt underneath. His brown beard trembles as the Angel grips him by the overalls. He hauls him nearly off his feet.

  “You think we stand for that sorta shit here?” the Angel growls. He brings his face close to the overalls man. “What the fuck are you thinking, eh? The fuck are you thinking? I don’t give a damn what a man and a club girl do in the bedroom, all right? I don’t care if you wanna dress up like a pumpkin and have her—fuck it, I don’t know—have her fuckin’ decorate you or somethin’.”

  I hide a giggle behind my hand. Maybe it’s nerves. Or maybe it’s the look on the Angel’s face. It’s anger and bemusement and something deeper, darker. Handsome and tough-looking; a rare combination.

  “I didn’t mean to,” the man in overalls stutters. “I really didn’t. I mean … what do you want from me, Cage? I just … she was fuckin’ begging for it.”

  “Are you patched?” Cage asks calmly.

  “Patched … no, no, you know I’m not.”

  “Is it against the rules for a patched fella to beat the hell outta an unpatched fella?”

  The man swallows. “You know the answer to that, Cage.”

  “Tell me why you beat up the girl so bad we had to take her to the hospital, Gary.”

  He hesitates. It’s like he’s trying to work out a good answer to that question. I want to go into my handbag and take out my recorder. But I’m scared any movement will alert him. I keep myself frozen, just barely peeping my head around the trash can.

  “Look, Cage. I know … Listen, okay? I know how it looks … how it could look. To you, I mean. But it’s not like that. She said she wanted it.”

  “She said she wanted some of that BDSM shit. Yeah, I know. But are you really gonna try’n convince me she wanted you to bust her nose in with a lamp, eh?”

  He swallows.

  Cage growls. Suddenly, he does lift the man off his feet. He lifts him almost over his head.

  “Cage, put me down!”

  “Tell me the damn truth!” he snarls.

  “Put me down!”

  “Tell me the fuckin’ truth. Right now, Gary. I’m not messing around.”

  “Okay, okay! Just put me down!”

  Cage drops Gary onto his feet. He takes a step back. He has a knuckle-duster in one of his hands, gripped tight. I’ve never seen one in real life.

  “We were getting into it and then she started whining and I tried to calm her down. Then she fucking hit me, Cage. The bitch slapped me. I didn’t mean to hit her so hard. It just … it just happened.”

  “You hit her three times, Gary.” He clenches the knuckle-duster even tighter. His knuckles turn white. “Three damn times just happened?” He moves so quick I almost let out a gasp. I clamp my hand over my head.

  In a flash, he hits Gary in the belly. He topples over, panting in stilted breaths. Cage puts his hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you around here anymore. If you come back, you’ll get worse’n this.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it, Cage! I get it!”

  “Fuck off, then.”

  I almost sink into the wall when Gary jogs past me.

  “Fuckin’ asshole,” Cage mutters under his breath. He paces around the alleyway. I’m forced to stay where I am, being as quiet as a mouse. Quieter. I think Cage would hear a mouse. He clicks his neck side to side. He shadow-boxes. He hops from one foot to the other. He takes out a cigarette, looks at it, tosses it to the ground. He takes the carton from his pocket and walks over to a trash can.

  Not just any trash can, though. The one I’m hiding behind!

  I try to move around it so that I’m on the opposite side to him. He pauses and listens.

  Then he leaps around the other side, catching me.

  “What’ve we got here?” He tilts his head at me. His dark green eyes move over my dress, down my tights, to my sneakers, and back up to my face. I feel naked when he looks at me like that. “You’re not a club girl,” he growls.

  “I’m—”

  I cut off short. I don’t know what to say. What can I say? Maybe Krissy was right. Maybe this was too dangerous.

  2

  Cage

  Something about the sneakers with that dress makes me wanna grab her. Take her right here. It’s so damn sexy. I don’t know why. It’s like she’s ready for anything. Maybe that’s it. Fuck it, who cares? I walk around the trash can to get a better look at her. She’s got a fine body; small, tight breasts. The sort of beautiful face that makes a man wonder if he’s done with all the cheap thrills. But only for a second. Mostly it’s just those legs, though. I wish she wasn’t wearing tights.

  And her eyes, dammit. Her eyes are almost white, they’re so blue.

  “All right, so you’ve got nothing to say now, eh? I reckon you just witnessed me assaulting a fella, lady. Maybe you don’t know where you are. But if you do, you need to tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

  She stares up at me, blinking fast. She’s clutching onto her handbag. Maybe she’s got a piece in there, one of those little-lady peashooters.

  I sigh. “Are you just gonna sit there? Goddamn, I’m talking to you.”

  She suddenly breaks into a run, heading for the parking lot. I sigh, laughing quietly as I watch her. Her ass shifts around nice in that dress when she runs. Her legs look tighter’n hell. I jog after her. I pick up my speed when she gets to the edge of the lot. She’s fast. But I’m faster.

  I wrap my arm around her belly and hold her still. I don’t hurt her.

  “Get off!” she snaps. She elbows me in the ribs. A surprisingly quick, hard elbow at that.
>
  I wrap my other arm around her arms, trapping them against her body. She’s hot against me, her skin burning up. Her breath comes fast.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you, lady. But you’ve gotta stop struggling.”

  “Let go!”

  “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

  She stomps on my foot. I’m wearing boots. She’s wearing sneakers. It does pretty much nothing.

  “Are you done, eh?”

  “You can’t hold me against my will.”

  “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. That’s exactly what I can do. But like I said, I’m not gonna hurt you. So fuckin’ relax. We’re going into the house, and we’re gonna have a little talk. All right? Come on.”

  She doesn’t really have much choice. I drag her toward the entrance. After a few feet, she begins to walk on her own. She nudges at me to let her go. I do, but I keep a close watch on her.

  I take her into the clubhouse to the dormitory wing. I’ve got an apartment, but this room at the back with the en-suite and the plasma TV is pretty much home. The club girls clean it regularly, so it looks much better’n my place. I nod at the bed.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Scarlett,” she says. “And you’re Cage.”

  “Well done.” I laugh. “Are you gonna sit down?”

  She glares at me, looking vicious. “Sit down on your bed? Why, so you can—”