Just One Ride (Lucifer's Savages MC Series Book 1) Read online

  Just One Ride

  Lucifer's Savages MC - Book One

  Samantha Montague

  Copyright © 2021 Samantha Montague

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references made to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictionally. Any other names, characters, places or events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 Samantha Montague

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author/publisher.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7369310-6-6

  Cover design created using Canva.

  ❤️

  For all my readers.

  Thank you for your endless support,

  it means the world to me. Enjoy!

  One

  Ayla

  I watch as the nail tech coats my nails with bright pink polish. Each swipe of the brush making them shine brighter. A rainy summer day calls for a flashy new manicure.

  “Ayla, what color did you pick again?” Cora asks from my side as her fingertips get painted a glittery aqua.

  “It’s called flamingo pink. It’s bright. What do you think?” I ask as I wiggle the already painted fingers on my right hand in her direction.

  “Ooooohhh. That’s going to be perfect for tomorrow night,” she grins wickedly. “So, is Daddy okay with his precious baby girl going to hang with the big bad bikers tomorrow?” she adds with a laugh, knowing exactly how my dad is.

  Cora has been my best friend since she moved to New Hampshire our sophomore year of high school. She was wild and carefree even at fifteen and that drew me to her. For too long I had been seen only as the daughter of a cop, which had severely impacted my transition into high school. But Cora looked past that and drew me out of the shell I had created.

  “He doesn’t really get much of a say. I’m an adult and I don’t live at home any more. He knows I’ll be working down there all week anyway. Tomorrow night will just be for fun. I won’t have to serve any of them drinks yet, they can buy me the drinks instead,” I smile back. As usual my dad’s advice had been a simple, “be careful.” He may be stern, but he’s a man of little words sometimes.

  It’s actually Ethan who gets a say and surprisingly the fact that I work bike week has never seemed to bother him. I glance at the sparkling rock on my ring finger and think about my fiancé miles away in Boston. He put the ring on my finger while he was home for winter break, but then he went back for the spring semester leaving me alone once again. The semester ended a few weeks ago, but he hasn’t come home yet. He managed to snag an interview for his dream job in the city, so he decided to hang out a little longer in hopes that he gets the job. If it works out, then I might be moving to Boston.

  Ethan and I have been an item since our senior year of high school, but he’s been away at Boston College most of the past three years, while I stayed here in New Hampshire. I decided to stay closer to home. I can get almost the same education at a local school and still visit him in the city when I feel the need. I’ve gotten pretty comfortable making the drive to Boston. The first few trips I made Cora come along with me, but she got sick of the endless frat parties Ethan ended up dragging us too. My trips have become less frequent for the same reason. Watching too eager girls drink their weight in alcohol to try to impress polo shirt wearing pretty boys started to turn my stomach. I love Ethan, but he’s changed a little since pledging the frat freshman year. I know they’re his “brothers” but some of them are just such idiots. Although, quite a few of them have connections in the city, which I think is how he managed to score the job interview.

  Here in New Hampshire, tomorrow is the official start of motorcycle week, an annual event in Weirs Beach, and I’ve been working it every summer since I turned eighteen. Even before that, when I was still in high school, Cora and I would manage to sneak down to check out all the excitement at least for a few hours. Boy, did we think we were hot shit when we were sixteen walking through all the bikers. Neither of us realizing the potential trouble we were putting ourselves in. I cringe when I think back on it now.

  When I turned eighteen, I started working the event. I spend my days serving drinks and making serious bank. This is my fourth year doing it and I usually end up with enough money that I don’t have to work for the rest of the summer. Sure, I have to put up with a nasty asshole here and there, but for the most part they’re decent.

  Cora and I pay for our manicures and head out into the warm June rain. We skip over small puddles making our way across the parking lot before climbing into her black Honda Civic. My wet flip flops slide on my feet as I fall into the passenger seat.

  “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?” she asks as she shifts into drive and we start to move.

  “Either we can stop at Hannaford and buy some actual groceries, or we can do pizza,” I suggest.

  “Groceries…you’re funny,” she laughs. If I want actual food at the apartment then I have to do the shopping. Cora never goes to the store. Once in a while her mom will stop by with a bag of groceries, but in all seriousness, she is the queen of take-out.

  “Pizza it is then,” I giggle back.

  “Okay. Let’s stop at T.J.Maxx first. I need to look for some cute stuff to wear this week. We can grab pizza at Papa Gino’s before we go back to the apartment,” she suggests as she pulls up to a red light and flips on her directional so we can turn left into the shopping plaza.

  After sufficiently stuffing ourselves with pizza, we’re back at the apartment going through all our new clothes trying to help each other decide on outfits for tomorrow night. After trying on three different options, I finally decide on a pair of short cut-off denim shorts and a cropped black tank. Simple but sexy. I’m obviously not looking to pick anyone up, but I’m twenty-two and I still want to look hot for a night out.

  As usual Cora has picked something a little flashier. She has a super tight pair of Daisy Dukes and a red lacey halter with a red bra underneath. She can pull it off though and it looks amazing against her tanned complexion.

  “That looks so hot,” I tell her as she spins around showing me the look from every angle.

  My phone beeps and I look down seeing a new message from Ethan.

  “The boy?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I offer a simple reply as I read his message.

  *Hey babe. Out at the sports bar with the boys watching the Sox game. Might be a late night. Talk to you tomorrow. Love ya!

  “What’s his excuse for not calling this time?” she asks in annoyance. When he doesn’t call it seems to bother Cora more than it bothers me. As any good girlfriend, she’s always been a little suspicious of Ethan. Her feeling only grew after he went off to Boston College.

  “He and some of the boys are out at a bar watching the Red Sox game,” I explain.

  “Those frat boys are so fucking shady. I don’t know how you trust him being so far away,” she cringes.

  “You know him, he would never do anything. It’s Ethan. Yes, some of his friends do stupid shit, but that’s not him. Plus, Boston isn’t that far away. If he was in New York or Miami or L.A. or something, then maybe it would be a different story,” I explain with a smile before turning back to my phone.

  My fingers move over the screen as I type a quick message back. *Okay. Have fun! Talk to you tomorrow. Love you too.

  “Okay. I think I’m go
ing to take a quick shower,” I tell Cora as I set my phone down on my side table and stand from the edge of the bed.

  She turns with a smile and skips back across the hall into her own bedroom. I move towards my dresser, stacking my clothes for tomorrow on top before pulling open my top drawer to find something to sleep in. With my pajamas in my hand, I leave my room and head down the hallway for a nice hot relaxing shower.

  Two

  Kane

  The roar of bikes thunders around me as we ride. The sun shining down and the open road in front of us. My black leather seat vibrating through me as the motor purrs between my thighs. Nothing is better than this.

  My sunglasses shade my eyes but the sun beats down against my black t-shirt and leather cut. I feel beads of sweat dripping down my back as I ride. I can’t wait for an ice-cold beer.

  The club voted once again to take this week to relax in Weirs Beach at the annual motorcycle week in Laconia, New Hampshire. We’ve been making this ride since I was eighteen and a young fucking prospect, just joining the life. Seven years in and I’ve quickly ascended to V.P. status. It didn’t come easy, my hands have definitely gotten dirty along the way, but it’s all fucking worth it.

  I lean into my bike, guiding it to the right as I pull into a small convenience store and gas station. I need a drink and to stretch my legs. My twelve friends pull in beside me, parking their bikes. We stick together on these trips. If one of us decides to stop, then we all stop.

  “What the fuck are we stopping at this shit hole for?” O.B. asks sliding his leg over his bike and hopping off to stand beside me.

  “I’m fuckin’ thirsty. It’s hot as shit today,” I grin back at him.

  I watch a father and daughter emerge from the store. His hand instinctively grabs the girl’s shoulder as he guides her to the side, away from us. Her eyes are wide as she takes in our loud bikes. I can’t help but laugh. She looks about eight years old and I’m sure the noise combined with her dad’s obvious overreaction to our presence is overwhelming. The guy looks like he might shit his pants seeing all thirteen of us standing here together.

  As much as I want a cold beer, we still have quite a few miles ahead of us, so I reach in the cooler and grab a bottle of water instead.

  Fifty and Mickey both follow my lead, grabbing water. I set my bottle on the counter and pull out my wallet to pay. The cashier is a bleach blonde with too much make-up on. Not my thing, but I know Fifty will definitely hit on her. She smiles at me as I pay, “Have a nice day.”

  I start to walk out and hear, “Hey there sweet thing,” as Fifty puts the moves on the gas station clerk. He’s such a fucking whore. That guy will try to pick up girls anywhere.

  I step back out the door into the sun, sliding my sunglasses down over my eyes. Thirty seconds later Mickey and Fifty emerge in full blown laughter. I turn in their direction.

  “Got a new old lady?” I ask with a chuckle.

  “I think she came in her panties when he smiled at her,” Mickey laughs loudly.

  “You two are fucking sick. I was just being nice to the girl. I’m taking the lead this stretch,” Fifty announces before tipping his water back and swallowing half the bottle.

  “It’s all yours,” I reply. I don’t mind anyone else taking the lead, but I like to put the throttle down and go, so if they aren’t keeping up the speed I want, then I usually end up taking over. “But I’d like to get to Laconia before sunset, so let’s keep going at the same pace.”

  “Yeah…yeah. I know you’re a fuckin’ speedster. I’ll keep up the fucking pace, don’t you worry,” Fifty throws it right back.

  I tip back the last of my bottle and then toss it in the nearby trash can before climbing back on my Dark Horse. My baby is a smooth, blacked out beast and I fucking love her. She holds my body just perfectly. I’ve had my share of women, but this is the one beauty who always calls me back for more.

  The engine roars beneath me as I wait for Fifty to pull out and take the lead he so desperately wants. I follow along with the rest of the crew as we ride two by two, the miles seeming to fly by as I focus on the road in front of me.

  It’s almost dark when we pull into the Naswa Motor Inn. Our bikes are lined up in front of the small colorful cabins. The setting sun glistens off the lake water in the distance.

  “Hey, Prospect, get your ass inside and check us in,” our Pres., Ryder, hollers across the open lot.

  I watch as Billy, our newest prospect, hops from the cab of the truck and jogs across the pavement towards the main office. I let him drive my rugged GMC Sierra Denali for the trip. She guzzled a lot of fuckin’ gas along the way, but we needed someone to drive all our bags and Billy is low man on the totem pole right now, so he got the task. He had to trailer his bike and watch the rest of us ride all the way from South Carolina, but he kept a decent attitude throughout the ride, despite the amount of shit he was taking from the boys. He’s a good kid and he fits right in with this group. It won’t be long before we patch him in.

  Ten minutes later and he’s back handing out keys. I find my cabin easily and unlock the door to check out where I’ll be crashing for the next nine days. I flip on the light and find a decent sized space with a queen-sized bed in the center. It’s nothing special, but it will definitely serve its purpose. A place to sleep and maybe entertain a lady or two. Some of the guys are bunking together but as V.P. I claimed a single room for myself.

  I toss my bag in an empty side chair and hit the bathroom. After taking a much-needed piss I sit on the edge of the bed feeling it shift under my body weight. A loud bang on the door startles me.

  “Kane!” my name comes through the door.

  “It’s open,” I shout back. The knob turns and Drake’s head comes through.

  “Pres. wants to head out and get a drink, you in?” he asks.

  “Fuck yeah. I could use a real drink after that last long stretch of the ride,” I say as I stand from the bed. I step out and lock the door behind me before joining my brothers back on my bike.

  I look to Ryder. “Where are we headed to, Pres.?” I ask even though I’m sure I already know the answer.

  “Broken Spoke,” he grins. I was right. It’s become one of his favorite spots to frequent during these trips. Decent drinks and live music, not to mention plenty of available chicks to choose from. Definitely a good spot to hit for our first night out.

  “Well, shit. Let’s hit it boss,” I say letting him lead the way as we make our entrance to the real heart of the rally. Any of us could have taken the lead during the ride here. Being out on the open road is one thing, but arriving to the heart of the party is a different story. It’s time for our president to take the lead and I’ll follow as a close second in my V.P. spot.

  We pass hundreds of other bikers as we ride towards the bar. Most seem to be small groups of friends just out for a good time, or lame ass weekend warriors who are out playing tough guy during bike week. There are fewer clubs like ours, but they’re definitely here. I’m sure we’ll see our share of fights this week, but these rallies really are a great way to find recruits and make connections with other clubs.

  As we pull up to the Broken Spoke, I notice the neon sign now reads High Octane Saloon. They must’ve sold the place or something, but it still seems like the hot spot for Saturday night. We park our bikes and make our way into the busy bar. The place is fucking packed. Fifty’s eyes bug out and his tongue is practically on the ground when two females wearing nothing but booty shorts and pasties walk by giving him a wave and a smile. He’s already following them before the rest of the guys can even get through the door.

  Ryder’s large hand grips my shoulder. “Well, V.P., another year and we’re still here. Let’s get a fucking drink,” he says leading the way to the bar. He stops short and I follow his path of vision. He’s already spotted a girl too. She’s sitting at the bar, long brown hair hanging down. She’s wearing a red lace top with a red bra underneath, his favorite color. She might as well be waving a
flag in front of a bull. He clears his throat and starts to move again, approaching the bar with ease.

  “Give me two Jack and Cokes,” he growls at the bartender and the girl in red turns to acknowledge his close proximity. He has no fucking boundaries when he sees something he wants. Her eyes move over his cut and then she speaks.

  “Excuse me, Pres., but could you give me a little breathing room here,” she says flashing a smart-ass grin. This girl is definitely feisty, which is only going to encourage him. Let the fun begin.

  Three

  Ayla

  Cora is eating up the attention she’s getting from the towering muscular frame hovering over her. I sit watching silently as I sip my drink beside her. His fingers run lightly across her shoulder, pushing her hair to the side as his head drops beside her ear.

  “Red is my favorite color,” his rough voice tries to whisper, but it’s so noisy in here that I’m sure it’s louder than he intended.

  “Well, Pres.,” she smiles using the title sewn on his cut. “My glass is almost empty, why don’t you buy me another while you enjoy the view.”

  I slip from my seat, needing a quick trip to the bathroom. She turns when she sees me move.

  “Hey, where are you going?” she questions.

  “Just need to use the ladies’ to freshen up. Be back in a sec, order me another round,” I smile.

  As I walk through the denim and leather filled room, I glance back and see a large hooded figure holding a pitch fork stitched into the back of his leather covering. The words surrounding read, Lucifer’s Savages. I’ve heard of this group in previous years, but I don’t think they have any local charters.

  As I step into the bathroom, I’m met with a small cluster of barely dressed females prepping and posing in front of the mirror. I totally get what they’re doing. If I wasn’t with Ethan, I might be doing the same thing, but it makes me laugh to watch as they fall all over themselves. I make quick use of the toilet, then take my turn at the sink. I pull my lip gloss from my pocket and add a fresh coat, pursing my lips in the mirror. I pull my phone out and snap a quick selfie then text it to Ethan.