The Soldiers of Wrath MC 1 Owned by the Bastard
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Authors: Jenika Snow,Sam Crescent
Tags: #Romance, #MC, #Fiction
Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
Published by Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
Copyright © January 2014 by Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
Kindle Edition
First E-book Publication: January 2014
Edited by Kasi Alexander
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This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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Demon, the President of The Soldiers of Wrath MC, is a vicious bastard, a heartless killer, and has no regrets about any of the violent things he does in life. It is how he survives, and how he keeps his club and his men safe.
Deanna Monte has stayed in the life of her drug addicted, low-life father since her mother passed away. She may hate her dad, but after her mother’s dying wish for Deanna to not give up on him, she knows she can’t walk away.
When Deanna is given to Demon as payment for her father’s debt, she fights with everything inside of her and refuses to submit. But she’s never met a man like Demon, a cruel man that is big and powerful and can take her life as easily as he breathes. She shouldn’t want him the way she does, not after he takes her away from her life, refusing to let her go, and tells her that she is his now.
But she does, and that frightens her most of all.
Sam
– I want to say a big thank you to, Jenika Snow. She has been totally amazing. I love working with her and I hope this is the first book of many to look forward to in this series. Thank you, Jenika, and thank you to the Crescent Snow street team for their continued support of both of our work.
Jenika
– A big thank you to all the readers and their continued support! I want to thank Sam for going on this writing journey with me, and I look forward to creating more characters and worlds with her.
“W
hat the fuck,
man?” Shakes said and took a hit off the joint he was smoking. “He actually wants to trade his daughter for the fucking debt he owes us?” He shook his head, disgust on his face.
“He’s a desperate motherfucker, that’s for damn sure,” Joker said, and grabbed the joint that Shakes handed him. He took a hit off the roach, stared at all of them, and then exhaled. The backroom they were in was in the Soldiers of Wrath clubhouse, and currently filled with marijuana smoke, smelling of the green, and holding club members that were pissed that a father would trade his only daughter for a clean slate with the MC. “You want a hit, prez?” Joker asked.
Demon leaned forward, the leather chair he was in creaking from his weight. He took the joint, puffed off the end, and took in as much of the sweet smoke as he could. To calm down he usually liked a little something stronger. Although cocaine was a stimulant, it seemed to have the opposite effect on Demon. He calmed the fuck down with it, let the flow of pleasure hum through his body, and it was what he was itchin’ for right now after he had gotten word about the trade. He finished off the smoke, snubbed it out in the already overflowing ashtray, and leaned back in his seat. He looked around the table at his men, the members that would lay down their lives for him and this club. He’d do the same for them in a heartbeat, because that was what a brotherhood was all about.
“What do you want me to tell him?” Joker, his VP, said from beside him.
Demon looked at his other men. Joker sat to his left and his Sergeant-at-Arms, Dark, sat to his right. There were Striker, Weasel, and Nerd that stared at him, waiting for the answer on how to proceed. And then Shakes and Steel wore hard looks of concentration on their faces. These men had been with him from the very beginning, had death in their eyes, hatred and loyalty in their blood, and right now they were wanting to go and kick that father’s ass for even wanting to sell his daughter to them. Although Demon wasn’t a good man, not by any stretch of the imagination, he also didn’t give a fuck on how someone paid off their debt.
Maybe he should have given two fucks that the lowlife piece of shit junkie wanted to give an outlaw biker gang his twenty-something-year-old little girl. But he didn’t. In fact, he was a sick bastard because he wanted her. He had seen the pictures of the busty little redhead. She had a pair of big fucking tits, ones that would be overflowing in his hands when he grabbed them. Her ass was nice and round, big and just the right amount of meat on it that the thing would shake like a warm bowl of Jell-O when he was fucking her good and raw. And her hips,
fuck
, her hips were wide as hell, and perfect for when he held her as she bounced on his dick. He shifted in his seat, his cock getting hard at the thoughts and images moving through his head.
He looked down at the table, at where the picture of the daughter was. Her face was one that could make a sane and practical man go on a killing spree just to get her attention. But Demon was already a dangerous man, had killed plenty already, and would just have to get her attention in other ways. He thought about the things he could do to her, could show her. He’d pull out his big dick, let her see what he’d be plowing into her sooner rather than later.
“Yo, Demon, you with us here?” Steel asked, clearly trying to get his attention because he was sitting here thinking about fucking a woman that would be in their compound against her will.
He looked at his club members again, cleared his throat, and pushed the picture of the woman away. “Do it. Make the deal, and bring her here.”
Deanna pulled her
piece of shit Toyota into her father’s driveway. The underside of her car scraped on the pavement, and she grimaced. Her father’s place was a small two-person home in a cracked-out part of town. She was afraid to come here, even when it was broad daylight—like it was now—because there were usually hookers on the street corner, and drug dealers patrolling the streets in their cars. She reached into her bag, felt the small .38 Special her mother had given her before she died, and sighed.
Yes, her mom had handed her a gun on her deathbed, told her to keep it close, and to knock a fucker down if he even came sniffing around her. Deanna chuckled at the memory, but on the heels of that happiness the sorrow had come crashing in. It had only been a couple of years since her mother died of leukemia, and although she had fought hard to survive, in the end she had lost her battle.
Deanna stared at the front door of her father’s place. God, she really didn’t want to go in there, but she hadn’t been able to get ahold of him for three days. Yes, her dad was a junkie, a drug addict, and a crack head. Whatever someone wanted to call another person hooked on drugs, that was her father to the nth degree. He disgusted her, infuriated her, and she shouldn’t even care what he did with his life. He hadn’t been there for her mother when she was sick for all those years, hadn’t given two shits about them or sent money to help with medical bills, and he hadn’t even gone to the funeral. Deanna had hated him for so long. But when her mother had told her that being angry wasn’t the answer, that her father was sick and needed family, Deanna put away all of her hatred. She had tried to get her father into rehab, only to see him relapse over and over again. But she hadn’t given up, not because she loved her father, but because her mother had asked her to be there for him.