The Biker's Past (Satan's Beasts MC: Nomad Chapter Book 3), page 1
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Copyright© 2022 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0691-7
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE BIKER’S PAST
Satan’s Beasts MC: Nomad Chapter, 3
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2022
Prologue
“Where’s Bad off to?” Charlotte asked.
Colonel glanced over at Ape’s old lady, and then toward the sound of the roaring bike.
“No one knows,” Skull said.
Piper snuggled up close to Colonel, and he kissed the top of her head, loving it when she got close to him.
Meeting this woman was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She loved being on the road just as much as he did.
“He goes every year,” Colonel said. “He has … commitments.”
“Yeah, he goes and gets his head screwed on, and then he seems to be sane for a few months before shit hits the fan again,” Priest said.
Not many of the guys were hanging out tonight. Some had already found a woman and were using them for the night.
As for Colonel, he was content to have his old lady with him, constantly. She was the love of his life.
He glanced at the retreating red lights of Bad’s car.
Colonel hoped this year, Bad would find what he’d been searching for or at least bring along whatever gave him peace.
Chapter One
Charity Green tried not to keep looking toward the main gate of the graveyard. This was crazy. Every single year, she came here to see her brother and also to connect with a guy she only got to see once a year. She didn’t see her brother just once. No, she came every single week to stare at his gravestone.
Stevie, or Stew, as he’d liked to be called. She never understood why, but that was his name. She couldn’t believe it had already been ten years since he passed. She was twenty when it happened, and he’d been thirty years old. Her stupid, adorable, hard-ass big brother. He’d always said he was going to protect her, and she loved him so much. When their parents passed away, he’d been eighteen. He could have let her get taken into foster care, but instead, he’d stuck by her. Even though she knew he didn’t want to.
Her brother had been an adventurer and hated being stuck in one place, but for her, he’d done exactly that, and she’d never forgotten it. He’d taken care of her long after she turned eighteen.
Stevie had been there for her … always.
So had … Bad.
Her big brother’s best friend. For a short time, they had all lived together. She’d known Stevie had wanted to go, spread his wings, ride his bike, and do anything that wasn’t working a nine-to-five job. Not that he didn’t want to do anything, just his own thing.
He’d never gotten the chance.
A drive-by shooting had ended his chances. He’d been killed and now, for the last ten years, the only time she ever got to see Bad was when he came to visit his best friend.
They rarely spoke during those visits.
Bad had gone and done what Stevie had always wanted. He was part of the Satan’s Beasts MC: Nomad Chapter. His life was committed to his club and the road.
To Charity, it sounded like an utter dream. Living life on the road, a different place to sleep every single night.
She loved her brother for sticking around and not allowing her to go into care, but she hated this life she still lived. One where she got up hating her life.
Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Stevie’s headstone. She loved her big brother so much, and she wished she had someone to talk to. There was no one. The few relationships she’d been in had failed. The men wanted her to settle down, have kids, and get married. The moment they talked about the M-word, she panicked. Ended the relationship on the spot. As for kids, she wasn’t ready for them. Not even at thirty years old.
At the sound of an approaching bike, Charity felt her heart start to race.
Bad was nearly here.
“This year, Bad, I’m going to do it. I’m not going to … stick around anymore. I’ve already sold everything at the apartment.”
Her brother hadn’t been able to afford to keep their parents’ house, so they’d lived in a small apartment. It had been quite homey with the three of them. Since she lived there alone, all it had done was put a great deal of stress on her to work a couple of jobs for paying the rent as well as the bills.
Roommates had never worked either.
So, in a couple of days, her rent would run out. She had a small bag packed in her car, and she planned to make her dreams come true.
No more waiting around to see what was going to happen.
She wasn’t happy anymore. Hadn’t been happy for a long time, and she knew if she didn’t do anything about it soon, she was going to go crazy.
She’d already waited ten years.
When Bad entered the cemetery, Charity didn’t look up. She kept her gaze on Stevie’s gravestone, almost trying to imagine what her brother would say. He’d been so protective. She couldn’t believe he’d be on board with her skipping town, traveling, making her own way.
Bad stood to her side, not blocking her view, and like so many times before, he placed a bundle of roses on top of Stevie’s gravestone.
Thirty roses. Always the same.
Tears filled her eyes because it always got to her.
Thirty for the number of years he lived. The same age she was now.
Bad took a step back, and then another, until he sat beside her. “Hello, Charity.”
His voice always affected her. The deep, guttural groans, making her wonder what he sounded like when he orgasmed. They were crazy, stupid thoughts.
Bad had never seen her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister. That was who she was. She hated it, but she had decided to accept that she was never going to change it.
“Hey, Bad,” she said.
It was the same every single year. They would sit here for a couple of hours. Sometimes they’d talk. Bad would tell her a few crazy tales about her brother, and for a few short minutes, everything would seem okay.
Only, it wasn’t.
Stevie was still gone.
Charity was even more shocked as Bad reached over and took her hand. He locked their fingers together, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask him what that was for. Why he was holding her hand?
For ten years, Bad had avoided touching her, yet, now he was.
She couldn’t avert her gaze, staring at where they touched.
“I missed you,” Bad said.
She looked at him, not really sure if she had heard him correctly.
What the hell was happening?
She wanted to pinch herself. Instead, she attempted to keep her cool, which was hard to do with all the excitement.
This was ridiculous. They were in a graveyard, staring at her brother’s resting place, and her heart pounded inside her chest.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She could just imagine her brother laughing his ass off right now at this.
****
Bad stared across the graveyard at his best friend. Stevie would be pissed with him if he knew the thoughts going around his head. It happened every single year. Each time he saw Charity, it made him want her again.
His need for her never changed. It never altered. In fact, it was always there.
Leaving her was the hardest decision he had ever made.
“Dude, I don’t give a shit. You’re not screwing my sister. That’s the end of it.”
Those were the last words Stevie ever said to him. There were many other things that were also said. Mainly about how awful he was as a potential boyfriend. How Charity could do better than him, and Bad wasn’t disputing that.
Charity was an amazing, beautiful woman. He particularly loved her ass and her tits, her hips as well. Damn it, when it came to Charity, he was aroused by all of her. There wasn’t a part of her he didn’t want.
Coming here was torture, but he did it for Charity. To sit with her as she dealt with her loss, for Stevie’s memory, but mostly for him to get his fix when it came to her.
He … needed her.
With Ape now with Charlotte, and Colonel with Piper, it was getting harder to just sit back and be alone.
He loved being on the road, never knowing where life was going to take him.
Long ago, Bad realized he wasn’t fit for the normal life. He loved to make his own way. He and Stevie had been the same.
Bad stared down at where he and Charity held hands. This was all he was allowed to do.
“You know, he’d pitch a fit right now,” Bad said. “Us holding hands.”
Charity laughed. “Yeah, he would, but then, it’s none of his business. He never stopped dating the girls I couldn’t stand, so I don’t see why he gets to get away with it
He looked at her, really looked at her, and he knew there was no one else he ever wanted. There hadn’t been anyone else for ten years.
Sure, he’d been with women. Being on the open road and promising his dead best friend that he’d never date his sister, he made certain promises, but now, he didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to keep them.
Nor if he wanted to.
He’d already given up Charity, and that seemed so unfair. He was a forty-year-old man, and now he sounded like a fucking child.
“How have you been?” Charity asked.
“Fine. Traveling. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, totally.”
He heard the sarcasm in her voice. He was about to open his mouth when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a crack of thunder split the air. He didn’t recall there being a warning of a thunderstorm.
With how hard it was to keep his hands to himself when he was around Charity, he’d hoped to spend the day with her but then leave soon after.
“Shit!”
Rain started to pour.
“Come on. We can head to my place,” Charity said, grabbing his hand.
He had no choice but to follow.
His bike was parked at her apartment building, like it was every single time. He’d walk over to the cemetery, and then he’d walk her back home. This time, with the rain pouring down, they ran straight to her apartment.
He recognized the code from when Stevie typed it in. She hadn’t changed it.
Like all the times before, she went to the stairs because Charity hated elevators. She always feared getting trapped in one. She always took the stairs.
He followed up behind her, trying not to stare at her ass, but that was nearly impossible because it was right there in front of his face, just begging to be touched.
Bad had an overwhelming desire to press his face into the rounded cheeks, to nibble on the curves.
He didn’t. He was a good man.
Following her upstairs, he went until they got to the same apartment he’d once lived in with Charity and Stevie. The moment they stepped over the threshold, Bad tensed up.
Ten years ago, the place had been fully furnished. They couldn’t afford to keep Stevie and Charity’s parents’ place. The apartment was the next best thing, and they had fun attempting to fit as much furniture in as possible. All that furniture was gone.
He didn’t understand it. “Have you been robbed?” he asked.
“What?” Charity asked, moving across the room toward the bathroom. She came out with a towel, throwing one toward him.
“Where’s all the furniture?” he asked.
“I sold it.”
“Why?” There was a single chair in the main living room. That was it.
“Because I’m not going to be living here after a couple of days.”
“You’re not?” Every year, he checked on her to make sure she was okay, that nothing bad was going on in her world.
Why was she moving?
Couldn’t she afford the rent?
He knew she didn’t stick to one job. Charity hated to stay in one place for any length of time.
“No. I’ve already handled the rent with the landlord. It’s time for me to move on. I’ll be leaving for good,” Charity said.
“But … why?” Bad asked.
“Because I don’t want to stay here, Bad. I loved my brother so much, and I know a part of me feels a little guilty about selling our stuff and moving on, but this is my life. I’ve been here for ten years, and I will keep coming back to visit him, but this was my brother’s dream for me. Not mine. It was never mine. It was why we argued so much.” She shrugged. “I’ve spent ten years living the life he wanted for me, and I’m not happy. I know, deep down, that he’ll be pissed, but he will also want me to do things that make me happy.”
Chapter Two
Charity waited for the moment he’d lose it.
This was the first real decision she had made for herself, and she wasn’t going to lie about how excited she was about it.
Bad just stared at her.
She continued to dry her hair.
He held the towel in his grip, but he was dripping onto the floor.
“Bad, you’re dripping,” she said, pointing to the floor.
“You can’t just leave.”
“Of course, I can. There’s nothing here to stop me.”
“But your brother?”
“What about him? I know Stevie wanted what was best for me, and I have tried to live that way for ten years, Bad. Ten freaking years, but I know my brother, and he would much rather see me happy than living a life he thinks will make me happy.” She sighed. “I expected you to understand.”
“Why?”
“You’re living your life. You’re living the dream. Don’t you think I know?” she asked.
“Know what?”
Charity had never said anything to him about it. Before Stevie had gotten killed, she had overheard her brother and Bad talking about leaving, joining up with the MC club that Bad was now part of. They had hoped to Prospect first and then become a fully patched-in member.
“You were both going to leave me here,” Charity said.
“Dude, what about Charity?” Bad asked.
“What about her? My sister will understand that I need to do this. You know I’d do it for her.”
Her brother hadn’t cared that he was leaving his sister. All he’d wanted was to do what he wanted. Charity didn’t mind. She always felt guilty that he had to stay behind. He put his life on hold for her. Just as she put her life on hold for him. She gave the life he wanted for her a try.
She hated it, but she had given it her all.
Now it was time to do things herself.
“You knew?” Bad asked.
“Yeah, I knew.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Bad, I was twenty years old. My brother had given up everything else for me. I wasn’t going to let him stay behind anymore. I knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t this.” She held her hands out, looking around the apartment. “He’s gone. I … I can’t live like this. Not anymore.”
The towel she used was soaking wet, and so was her body. “I need to … get changed. You’re soaked, too.”
She moved toward her bedroom, pushing the door to give her some privacy. The lock had been broken for a couple of years. She rarely had any visitors, so it was never a problem for her.
Charity was very much aware of Bad in the other room. Waiting.
After stripping out of her clothes, she grabbed a robe because she didn’t have many decent towels to use.
With a towel in hand, she stepped out of her room but came flush against Bad’s body. He’d moved so close, and she hadn’t even heard him.
“Oh,” she said. “Er, here’s a towel.” She shoved it against his chest, trying not to think about how hard and firm it was.
She inhaled, only to detect the leathery scent as well as his masculine one combined with it.
Charity had always had a crush on him. Even after all of this time, it hadn’t changed. Bad never looked at her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister. It was embarrassing. There was a time she thought he might have felt something, but … nothing ever happened.
Tilting her head back, she tried to imagine him not kissing her. She didn’t want his kisses. She didn’t want anything from him. Not a damn thing.
Keep lying to yourself.
Bad took the towel and stepped past her, entering the bathroom.
Get a grip on yourself.
It was impossible.
She moved toward the kitchen. There were only two mugs on the counter, one kettle. Everything else was sold. She would be leaving everything else in the apartment.
Spooning out the coffee into the mugs, she didn’t bother with cream or sugar. Neither of them liked to water down their coffee intake. She also liked strong, dark coffee.
Yum.
With the heavy scent of bitter coffee in the air, she turned to find Bad had wrapped a towel around his waist, but all of him was on display. She hadn’t seen him like this in over ten years.
Don’t stare.
It was impossible not to. He was so close, the apartment seeming to shrink with each second he was inside.
“I made you, a, er, I made coffee.” She picked up the coffee and stepped toward him, trying to keep her gaze away from his large, muscular, and heavily inked chest. A skull decorated his chest right over his heart. There were also some gravestones, as well as a hand coming out of the dirt.
