Chapter One
Demon
“Hey boss, you coming down?” Rhodie’s head popped into my office. His blue Mohawk brushed the top of the door frame, and the knowing smile on his face made me want to hit something. “The guest of honor will be here any minute.” My fist clenched tighter on top of the scarred desk it rested.
My neck tightened thinking about all the trouble the guest of honor was going to get into tonight. And she was my responsibility.
Yippy fucking yay!
Why the hell did I agree to watch over her?
The guest of honor happened to be the daughter of Satan. His real name’s Stan Morningstar, no shit his last name was Morningstar. But he’d been Satan since he became a member of Hell’s Army, when my great-grandfather created the club. He’s my second in command, but if we’re being fucking honest, he should be the boss. I wished he was the president on days like this. Days where I would rather ride cross country, in the snow, with a seat made of broken glass, without wearing shit to protect my balls. And I really liked my balls.
When the last president, my pops, Lucifer Link, kicked the bucket it was unanimous that Satan would take over. Satan had different ideas, his old lady, Annette was diagnosed with breast cancer. He refused to take the throne, deferring to me. He wanted to be close to his wife as she battled her ass, or I should say tits off? He also wanted to be there for their only daughter without club business getting in the way.
I was a scared punk-ass twenty-nine year-old pup when they initiated me as president of Hell’s Army. I was a lucky fuck when Satan swore his fidelity to me and helped me settle into my new role. In the four years I’d been boss, he’d never left my side, molding me into the badass president the club knows me as now.
Satan was a loyal fucker, and an asshole for what he put on my shoulders.
I’d give it all up, the club, my bike, the girls, not to have to do what I promised him I’d do tonight.
Because of Satan’s loyalty, and the fact that I’m a dumbass, I was now stuck babysitting his daughter dearest, Angel Marie Morningstar. A pain in my ass since the day she was born a little over eighteen years ago. Of course, Satan would choose my pop’s to be the godfather to his precious daughter, making it my job to lead her around when they were doing club business.
And they were always doing club business.
Angel was fourteen when I became boss, causing our connection to be immediately severed. I retired from babysitting duty, or so I’d thought. I didn’t have time to watch over Satan’s little girl. I was the fucking boss now. It seemed that fact didn’t matter to Satan.
Why was I doing this shit?
I also hadn’t taken the time to squash the schoolgirl crush she developed on me. I severely regret that decision now. For years, I’d had my head so far up my ass keeping the club alive, her feeble attempts to get me to notice her never even popped on my radar.
Things were becoming more stable over the years since I’d taken the helm of the club, but it was chaos at the start. I’d revamped the hell out Hell’s Army, and it took all my energy. Instead of pumping drugs into the community, Hell’s Army now operated a thriving THC brand that stores were clamoring to carry. No more stealing cars for my men, Hell’s Army now had an exclusive mechanic shop, and auto-body shop where a person needed a reservation a year in advance to get their car in our bays.
Yeah, I made Hell’s Army into a pussy-ass club, or at least that’s what the old timers grumbled about every fucking chance they got. All their shit stopped after I kicked a couple of their asses. It also helped when the money started rolling in asshole to elbow.
As things calmed down, I began to realize my mistake in not telling Angel it was never going to happen. She was my second’s daughter for fuck-sake. She was fifteen years younger than me. Hell, in my personal dictionary there would be a picture of Angel next to the word, forbidden. And a second definition under, don’t even fucking think about it.
Satan would kick my ass. Shit, I’d let him if I decided to do something that stupid. Lucky for me, I’m old enough to realize a bad situation when I saw one, and Angel was a bad situation.
Now that she’s less than a month shy of nineteen, she’d upped her game to the point I couldn’t be near her without a glass with something strong inside of it clutched in one hand, and a biker skank in the other.
And I’m supposed to watch her tonight as she celebrates her last night before going off to college.
Fuck.
“Yeah, I’m coming.” I knocked my tattooed knuckles on my desk before pushing back in my chair to stand. I swept my eyes across the desk in a feeble attempt to find something that needed my immediate attention, delaying the inevitable.
“You okay, boss?” Rhodie asked as we headed down the wooden stairs to the main room of the clubhouse.
I cracked my neck from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the stress collecting at the base of my skull. “Just tired.”
“I can watch over Angel if you aren’t up to it. With Satan and you not hanging over her shoulder…”
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence and stay the hell away from Angel. She’s going off to college where she’ll find some uptight fuck who’ll treat her like a princess. She doesn’t need some dumbass motorcycle mutt messing up her life. Besides I’d kill you, and Satan would bury the body if you even looked at her wrong.”
It seemed babysitting duty was starting early. Why wasn’t there a glass in my hand already?
I shouldered past him, hitting him as I moved around him. Stupid pup had a damn death wish. Straight to the bar, I nodded to our old bartender Rukus to pour me the usual.