Sentinel: Satan's Disciples MC Book 1 (Satan's Disciples Motorcycle Club), page 1
SENTINEL
SATAN’S DISCIPLES
BOOK 1
ELYSE KELLY
Bad girls don’t get what they want, Emma. Bad girls get punished…
I thought coming to this unknown town in the middle of nowhere would keep me out of trouble, that it would be the perfect place to hide and start a new life. Instead, I found myself a different kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that makes good girls like me want to be all kinds of bad.
SENTINEL is Book 1 in the SATAN'S DISCIPLES MC SERIES. This obsessed hero is dark and dirty and willing to unleash all kinds of evil to protect the woman he loves. Hold on tight while he takes you on a fast and sexy ride in this stand-alone motorcycle club romance with no cheating, minimal angst, and a guaranteed HEA.
SATAN’S DISCIPLES MC SERIES
Faithful, loyal, and ruthless.
The men of SATAN’S DISCIPLES MOTORCYCLE CLUB live a dangerous lifestyle with deadly consequences. And that’s just the way these possessive alphas like it. Get ready for a long, hard ride with the bad boys of Carnage, Nevada, in these sexy, sinful HEAs that are guaranteed to leave you satisfied and breathless.
CONTENTS
Prologue - Emma
1. Emma
2. Sentinel
3. Emma
4. Sentinel
5. Emma
6. Emma
7. Sentinel
8. Emma
9. Sentinel
10. Emma
11. Sentinel
12. Emma
13. Sentinel
14. Emma
15. Sentinel
16. Emma
Epilogue - Sentinel
Get a Sneak Peek at Throttle
Thank You!
FIND ELYSE KELLY
OTHER BOOKS BY ELYSE KELLY:
Sneak Peek of Room 15
About the Author
Copyright © 2023 Elyse Kelly
Cover Design: Cover Couture
Editing: Kat Pagan with Lunar Rose Editing Services
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
All rights reserved.
The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the express written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This literary work is fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or establishments is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 9798851375040 (print)
Created with Vellum
PROLOGUE - EMMA
“How did you let yourself end up here, Emma?” I mutter out loud. I angrily slam the last of my clothes into my oversized black duffel bag and zip it closed. I’ve already packed up everything else in the car, which is parked on the street and not in my usual spot in the garage. I’m not giving David the opportunity to keep me from leaving if he just happens to show up tonight—which he shouldn’t because he’s supposedly working late, yet again, for the umpteenth time this month.
Ever since we got engaged, he’s stopped seeing me as the fun, feisty girl he was head over heels for and started wanting me to be the trophy wife, who should just be seen and not heard like all the other pieces of arm candy at the country club. Like I no longer have a brain, and I’m just supposed to organize charity events and host fancy luncheons with wealthy socialites.
Yeah, that’s not me. At all.
I look around our shared bedroom one more time as I curse myself for moving in with him all those months ago—getting swept up in the fairytale romance and cover-story engagement. I feel so stupid, having fallen for such a narcissistic man, especially with how he treats me now.
I thought he was my Prince Charming, swooping in on his proverbial white horse to take me away. He was easy to fall in love with and made me feel so special, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. But then he became the villain in this narrative—an emotional, mental, and physical abuser with a fancy Mercedes and a gilded cage to lock me away in.
And, oh, how he likes to physically abuse me.
This I found out after the engagement when he wanted to try new things in the bedroom. I shared with him my kink for rough sex and degradation praise, which I am not at all ashamed of. But he exploited my trust and consent and took it well beyond the bedroom, calling me vicious names and smacking me around anytime he felt like it. He said he thought I’d be into it, even when I didn’t give my permission. But I know the difference between rough sex and abuse, and once I withdrew my consent, it became nothing less than assault. And soon, it stopped involving sex completely.
I know I should’ve left right then and there. But David is a master manipulator and trapped me with my own mind. He knew just what to say and do to draw me right back in—keeping me on the hook until his next transgression, gaslighting me every day, and chipping away at my self-worth and confidence until I thought I had nothing without him.
Once, I’d even told his mother he’d been physical with me, but she brushed it off as nothing. She merely said I should spend his money as a way to get back at him, and to keep my mouth shut because this was par for the course with their social standing. That I should be so lucky to have such a glamorous life, and that I ought to get used to it. Needless to say, I was stunned by her reaction. It was then that I realized I would end up like her—miserable and sad, trapped in a life I didn’t want—if I stayed here with her son.
But whenever David senses I’m about to do something stupid, as he likes to say, he makes sure to mention he’s golfing buddies with half the police force. If I filed a report, it would only be foolish because no one would believe a nobody like me. He never lets me forget how much money he has, or that he can find me anytime and anywhere if I ever decide to run. And he likes to ramp up the fear with a swift slap to the face and a reminder that I’m nothing without him and will always be his.
I have to get out of here.
So, with no family to speak of, I chose a random city on the map, which turned out to be Carnage, Nevada. Then I waited for the perfect chance to make my move.
I’m leaving tonight.
I was a fool for staying here as long as I have, but I don’t need this, and I don’t need him. I will not let fear have power over me. Not anymore. I’m stronger than this.
I take a steadying breath before crossing the threshold of the bedroom into the hallway. Descending the massive, elaborate staircase of David’s lavish mansion on Millionaire’s Row, I’m almost to the final step of the landing with my last duffle bag when the front door swings open. David struts in with a sway to his gait, indicating he’s been drinking. I freeze, knowing I’ve been caught, while white-knuckling the strap of my bag.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he grits out with a slurred speech.
“Are you drunk?” My voice is incredulous as my eyes narrow, trying to determine how many drinks I think he’s had.
“I asked you a fucking question, Emma.” I don’t answer, instead turning quickly towards the back door, hoping to get there before he can get to me. But he closes the distance between us and grabs my wrist—his grip digging into my skin and shooting a sharp pain down to my fingertips.
“Let go of me!” I try to wrench my arm away, but his hold is too strong.
“I said: where the fuck are you going?” Spittle flies from his mouth and lands on my cheek. He smells of expensive perfume, and there’s makeup on the collar of his three-hundred-dollar shirt. What a perfect time to go, because I don’t deserve to be cheated on either.
“I’m leaving, David. So, get your hands off me.”
His voice is low and deadly when he scoffs, “So, now you have a backbone? I didn’t say you could leave, bitch. I’ll fucking kill you before I ever let you leave me.” His words hang in the air—heavy like a dark, ominous cloud.
The look in his eyes is cold, and I know what’s coming next. But not this time. Not tonight. So, when he rears his hand back to slap me across the face, I knuckle-punch him in the throat, then knee him in the balls.
He definitely wasn’t expecting that.
But as I turn to take off for the front door, he catches me around the ankle as he falls to the floor, taking us both down. He sputters for air, trying to catch his breath, while I thrash around in my struggle to break free of his hold.
I army crawl in the direction of the entryway table, dragging him along with me. Once I’m close enough, I pull myself to my knees just as he grips my waist and tries to yank me back down. I elbow him in the sternum and knock the wind out of him, granting myself enough time to grab the lamp from the table and bring it down on his head, shattering it to pieces and knocking him out cold.
For a moment, I’m afraid I’ve killed him, but then I see his pulse beating at the base of his neck, and I notice the shallow movements of his chest as he draws in air. He’s still alive, but I know it’s just a matter of time before he wakes up determined to come after me.
I snatch up my duffle bag from the marble floor and run out the door, jumping in my car and gunning the engine. I don’t stop driving until it’s daylight—having found a buy-here-pay-here lot and trade in my SUV for a Honda Accord. Then I get back on the road and head straight for Carnage.
As far as anyone is concerned, Emma Williams from Bay City, California is dead. From now on, I’m Sarah Smith, just a twenty-something-year-old girl from Marta, Texas, looking to start a new life in a new city.
And I’m hoping like hell I’ve taken all the necessary steps to keep David Turner from ever finding me again.
1
EMMA
Everything in front of me starts to blur as my eyes burn from hours of staring at the road. I’m hungry and tired, but I want to get to my new place, and I’m almost there—my GPS says it’s only two minutes away. If I can just keep my eyes open a little bit longer…
You have arrived. Your destination is on the left.
Finally! I pull my car into the parking lot of Desert Ridge Apartments, my new home for the foreseeable future. Thank God the property manager took mercy on me when I called and pleaded my case. I was hoping that, as another woman, she’d sympathize with my situation and work with me to secure the place—sight unseen. And luckily, she did, taking my deposit via the new prepaid debit card I set up after closing out all my banking accounts and credit lines. She even did me a solid and left the key in a lockbox on the door, knowing I’d have no idea what time I’d be moving in, and it would likely be after hours.
I really need to do something nice to thank her.
After parking as close to the entrance as possible, I head up to the third floor and unlock the door. Looking around, I’m relieved to find that the place appears just as advertised online, and that it’s indeed fully furnished—like it’s supposed to be. I check the kitchen and bathrooms to ensure they’re all reasonably clean, and to my surprise, they’re spotless. Of course, I’m still going to clean them because I’m a germaphobe, but it’s a huge relief to know I haven’t moved into a dump.
I’ve got to find the small wins in this fucked-up situation whenever I can.
I head back down to my car and begin the task of moving my bags into my apartment. I don’t have much: just my clothes, some books, toiletries, and a few trinkets. Everything else was put into storage (under a fake name) so I could get it later, when I’m ready. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take it all with me, but I couldn’t bear to leave it at his house. Especially the things that belonged to my parents.
But I don’t want to think about them right now. I don’t even want to consider what my parents would think of me and the predicament I’ve gotten myself into. I just wish they were here with me to tell me what to do. Only… they’re not, so this is the best plan I could come up with. And it has to work.
I make several trips back and forth from the car to the apartment, and as I do, I can’t help but feel like someone’s watching me. I scan the parking lot, yet I don’t see anyone. I just have a tingly feeling at the base of my neck that makes the tiny hairs stand on end. But surely, that can’t be right. It’s after 2 a.m. for crying out loud. So, who the hell would be awake right now, besides me?
2
SENTINEL
“You headed out, man?” Throttle sidles up to me at the bar as I down the last swig of my beer.
“Yeah, I finished up the plans for the run next week for you and Gunner. Everything should go off without a hitch.” I set my empty bottle down on the bar top and stand, stretching my arms over my head. It’s late, and I’m ready to get some fucking sleep.
“If you planned it, I know it’ll be fine. You don’t miss a fucking detail, brother.” His hand claps down on my shoulder. Throttle’s the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms and one of my closest friends—both of us having similar personalities.
And my brother knows I’ll do anything to protect my club. It’s why I’m so strategic in everything I do, and how I came to be the VP of Satan’s Disciples, the most-feared motorcycle club in the fucking state of Nevada. That, and I’m the best friend of our current president, Venom.
But don’t think I didn’t earn my damn patch or my fucking rocker, because the shit I’ve seen and done will tell you I motherfucking did. And Venom is my brother, even if he’s not blood. I’ve had his back since we were kids.
From day one, there hasn’t been so much as a playground scuffle he’s gotten into where I didn’t protect his ass. It’s how I got my road name: Sentinel. The protector. I’ve built my family of chosen brothers using ties that bind and blood of the covenant.
Faithful. Loyal. Ruthless.
I live and breathe for my fucking MC, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Why don’t you just stay in your room, instead of going back to your place? I’m sure one of the club bunnies would love to warm your bed tonight.”
“Pretty sure it’s not my bed they wanna keep warm.”
“Aww, since when did you stop wanting to get your dick wet, man?” Throttle punches me in the shoulder as we walk towards the front.
“Since the same pussies have been wetting every dick in the club.”
A quick glance around shows me the exact scene you’d find on just about any other night here at the clubhouse: bunnies in various stages of undress, doing all kinds of sexual acts with patched members. Of course, no one is forcing these women to be here, but they hang around hoping that one of my brothers will someday make them an ol’ lady. No matter how many times we tell them it’ll never happen, they just don’t leave.
“Ah, you want some new pussy then. Well, why didn’t you just say so? That can be arranged, brother.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m just not feeling it tonight.” He gives me a curious look, and I know what he’s thinking.
It’s not often that I turn away a beautiful woman from my bed. The girls in the club serve a purpose: to blow off some steam built up from the lifestyle we lead. It’s a rough fucking existence, often filled with a lot of aggression and adrenaline. And all that energy needs somewhere to go, which usually means beating the fuck out of someone, or sinking balls-deep into someone else. Or—more times than not—a little of both.
But there are no illusions to be had; the bunnies know exactly what they’ve signed up for, when they walk through that door. And when they crawl into my bed, I don’t make any promises or insinuations. It’s just sex, and that’s it.
Now, have I been thinking about more lately? Yeah, I have. I’m getting tired of the same old shit and the same easy pussy. But finding a woman who accepts this life is no easy feat. And I don’t do complications.
“You sure, man?” Throttle asks me again.
“Yeah, I need to drive around anyway. Follow up on the prospects. I know they’re out on patrol, but if I expect them to be doing what they’re supposed to, then I damn well better do an inspection.”
“Always keeping watch, huh?”
“Always.”
I tell Throttle I’ll catch up with him later, before heading out to my bike. She’s fucking gorgeous—a blacked-out, custom-made piece I built myself.
Dad would be proud.
I got my first bike from my old man when I was just starting school. He was a mechanical engineer and a fucking genius with machines. And by some miracle, I got his brains and learned everything I know about motorcycles while under his guidance. He wasn’t part of any MC, but he loved bikes and loved to ride.
Bikers came from all over this part of the country for his custom work, and he beamed with pride every time someone rode off on one of his creations. I couldn’t wait to get home from school and spend every second I could with him out in the garage.
Then, one day, I came home and saw something I’d never forget. He was laid out on the cold concrete, eyes wide open… still clutching his chest. My old man died suddenly of a massive heart attack at age forty-five. After that, my world went black, and I was left to care for my mom and kid sister when I was only fifteen.
