Highway Demons Mc: Killer Novels & Stories

I come with her, hot and hard across my fist, her name a growl on my lips, Davina, as we crash together through the screen, the alley spinning, the world gone. The screen flashes gold. LeatherLurker tipped $2000. LeatherLurker: good girl LeatherLurker: same time tomorrow

"Because he's no more who I thought he was." "Who is he?" "A demon."

Yet this man seems on fazed. "If your sister isn't dead by now, then she's definitely fine. The demon alpha doesn't keep an enemy. He kills them immediately. He doesn't wait even for a second. Just tell me the reason you want to meet with me. I don't have time to beat around the bush boy" he growled at me

One would think he was injured badly, but they can't imagine what this devil did a couple of hours ago. His finger slid through his hair, his nail grew longer, and they dug up the tiles. The anger didn't subside. He wanted more murders, and it's all because of Isabella. He killed a hell demon who had come to his office to meet him. All was well until he took Isabella's name. It's not that he likes that mortal, but the reason she is his prey. He will take time to play with his prey and will not tolerate interference. Suddenly something came to his mind, and he wrapped a towel and left the shower. He appeared in front of the small table near the bed, his hand scratching it to open it.

"don't you know that the demon's clan has more power than we the Lycan species?" "That's true, but what should we do then to win his favor?" I eavesdropped on their discussion, checking on them from the corner of my eyes. My gaze fixated on the glass of shot at my front. I racked my mind on what to do. My uncle was the Alpha, I had killed his wife accidentally, if I should go to him at that moment he will surely have me killed! They had always mistreated me in the past. My husband who is from the demon's clan had been the devil who had killed my parents when I was little, rendering me useless and an orphan.

Ruben’s eyes locked on to hers with an intense fire. “No.” She said simply, putting faith in Ruben, and looked away as Ruben beamed a huge smile and faced Vladimir and Mikhail. “Gentlemen, we are here to discuss financial matters and the progress of our business ventures together but I want to let you both know in trust and honesty that Katarina, here, is a Demon. My investigations have found that she has been contracted to one Scott McGowen who runs the South End gang of humans that have been slaughtering other small time gangs in the area over the last few days trying to…as you well know…consolidate himself and increase his own territory stakes.”

That merciless. I got around the corner only to have the Lancer’s headlights fill up the entire cab of the Hellcat as he closed in on me and tapped my bumper. “Fucker,” I spat, coming down hard on the gas as soon as the road straightened out. He was already up beside me. The high hum of his car contrasted the deep rumble of mine as he slid into the opposing traffic lane and tried to overtake me.

He was utterly convinced that the reason for so many successful police and fed busts was because of a rat… and of course, he was right. The problem was that Kirk was sure the big-mouth was Crusher Alcott, the President of the Highway Hellions MC over in Utah. According to Ace, Crusher was the middle man in one of Kirk’s most profitable drug corridors, the one running from Colorado to Nevada. Ace and his MC got the drugs as far as Utah, where Crusher and his boys picked things up and made all the final drop-offs, as instructed.

“Short and sweet: Kirk figures that Crusher Alcott is the rat.” Jack barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the guy’s name. Where the hell did these MC idiots get their road names from? Jesus, it gave him a headache. “Who’s Crusher Alcott?” Jack asked. “He’s not local.” “No. Crusher runs the Highway Hellions MC in Utah. We work with them running Jensen’s drugs over into Nevada.” “Got it. And why does Kirk think this guy Crusher would sell him out to the cops? They have a history?”

My ribs screamed with every breath—courtesy of Derek's boots three nights ago in that motel parking lot outside Tucson. "You cannot run forever, Jenna," he had said, his voice cold as winter. "I will find you again." But I had run. Again. A rumble split the air. Deep. Mechanical. The kind that made your bones vibrate. I lifted my head and saw them. Six motorcycles rolling down Main Street like they owned it. Leather. Chrome. The devil's head patch on their backs—red eyes, fangs bared. Devil's Reign MC. My blood turned to ice.