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“You will take the position that Keys wanted. The president of the Royal Bastards MC. The devil’s instrument.” He paused and leaned forward, touching the tip of his finger to my forehead.
A shock jolted my body back into full awareness and I realized I had nearly died before I could sign the contract. “Shit,” I cursed.
“You will take on a new road name. A name that personifies your position and authority and you will rule over all others beneath you. Your brethren will also join and sign my contract. Each member will take the Devil’s Ride. If they live, they’ll become patched in. If not, they are not worthy.”
“Yes,” I finally agreed, swiping a finger through the blood on my abdomen and signing the blank line on the contract.
At the devil’s urging, I took on a new identity to cement my leadership and allegiance to my club. It wasn’t hard to come up with a road name that instantly evoked fear. A name that perfectly described my transformation. I wanted vengeance, the suffering of my enemies, and the calculating ability to rain down hell upon those deserved it. A name that symbolized the cold, hard bastard I’d become.
Grim, the Reaper.
Lucifer’s hand pressed to my chest and he smiled with triumph.
“Reap. Your. Souls.”
My body was seized in a wave of pain so strong that I felt every limb ripped apart all at once. A cry of agony left my lips and my eyes fluttered shut. I briefly wondered if it was all a lie and I’d never awaken again.
Too late.
My soul was bargained and sold.
The devil owned Dexter Lanford, the Grim Reaper.
Bright light was beating down from above and I groaned as my head pounded with the worst ache that I could remember. I hadn’t had a hangover this bad in months. I lifted my hands to my temples and rubbed them to ease the pain. My eyes finally opened, and I struggled to sit up.
Hot Nevada wind blew over my skin and clothes
while I stood and stumbled, trying to catch my balance. I teetered like an infant learning to walk for the first time and it would have been comical if not for the loud blaring of a horn and the screech of tires seconds before I was hit and knocked backward, flying through the air before I landed in an ungraceful heap about twenty yards away.
Screams and cries of horror and shock filled the air. I mumbled incoherent words as my head turned and I found the dark blue sedan parked on the side of the road. The front of the car faced in the opposite direction. Through the back window I glimpsed two blonde heads filled with curls and braids. Two girls who couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve years in age. They were watching me with eyes as round as saucers.
Outside, somewhere close a man and woman were arguing. One was saying they needed to locate an emergency phone to call for help.
“There’s a dead body on the side of the road!” the woman yelled, her hand shaking as she pointed to the opposite side of Highway 95.
“I know!” The man scrubbed a hand over his face. “Did you see the leather vests and the patch? Royal Bastards MC. We’re not getting mixed up in any illegal shit or murder.”
“We hit that other man. We can’t just leave him for dead too!”
The argument continued but I stopped listening as a shadow fell over my face and blocked out the sun. I blinked and looked up as one of the girls from the car knelt down. She seemed younger of the two and pressed a cloth to my face while she offered a timid smile. “You’re all bloody.”
Surprised she had the courage to walk up to a stranger on the ground and offer assistance I didn’t know what to say. Her stuffed bear was clutched close to her chest and she glanced down at it, placing a kiss on its head, and then pressed it to my chest.
“He always makes me feel better. Maybe Cuddles can make you feel better too.”
Her kindness rocked my world. I was a bloody biker hit by a car and probably looked like hell. Scary as fuck, I should have intimidated or frightened her. I didn’t.
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out.
Brilliant sunlight surrounded her body like a halo, and I wondered briefly how the rays beamed down from above exactly right to give her such an angelic appearance.
“My parents fight a lot,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t like it.”
Her voice wavered and I immediately wanted to offer her comfort like she had given me.
“Do you want Cuddles back?”
She shook her head. “No. You need him more.”
