Chevelle 6x9 Read online

  By: International Bestselling Author

  Sapphire Knight

  Chevelle

  Copyright © 2018 by Sapphire Knight

  Cover Design by CT Cover Creations

  Editing by Mitzi Carroll

  Format by Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  WARNING

  This novel includes graphic language and adult situations. It may be offensive to some readers and includes situations that may be hotspots for certain individuals. This book is intended for ages 17 and older due to some steamy spots. This work is fictional. The story is meant to entertain the reader and may not always be completely accurate. Any reproduction of these works without Author Sapphire Knight’s written consent is pirating and will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is fiction.

  Mercenary is an over the top alpha.

  Chevelle is a female alpha.

  This is not real.

  Read for enjoyment.

  My husband - I love you more than words can express. Thank you for the support you’ve shown me. Some days you drive me crazy, other days I just want to kiss your face off. Who knew this would turn out to be our life, but in this journey, I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else. Thanks for falling for my brand of crazy. I love you, I’m thankful for you, I can’t say it enough.

  My boys - You are my whole world. I love you both. This never changes, and you better not be reading these books until you’re thirty and tell yourself your momma did not write them! I can never express how grateful I am for your support. You are quick to tell me that my career makes you proud, that I make you proud. As far as mom wins go; that one takes the cake. I love you with every beat of my heart and I will forever.

  My Beta Babes - Wendi Stacilaucki-Hunsicker, Lindsay Lupher, Patti West, Tara Slone, and Terina Dolezal. This wouldn’t be possible without you. I can’t express my gratitude enough for each of you. Thank you so much!

  Editor Mitzi Carroll – You’re one of the most dedicated, kindest people I’ve come across in this industry. Your hard work makes mine stand out, and I’m so grateful! Thank you for pouring tons of hours into my passion and being so wonderful to me. Thank you for your friendship and support.

  CT Cover Creations – I cannot thank you enough for the wonderful work you’ve done for me. Your support truly means so much. I can’t wait to see our future projects, you always blow me away. You are a creative genius!

  Golden Czermak with FuriousFotog - Thank you so much for the support you’ve been kind enough to show me in our book community. Your talent is beyond amazing and I look forward to our future projects. You by far have the most easy to use, organized, book cover friendly website I’ve come across. You made the entire process quick and easy.

  Model Nick Margiotta – Thank you for being a great guy to work with and a good sport about being on my cover. You capture my character perfectly. Hopefully I can meet you one day and thank you in person.

  Brenda Wright with Formatting Done Wright – Thank you so much for making my books always look professional and beautiful. I truly appreciate it and the kindness you’ve shown me. I know I can depend on you even in short notice and it’s so refreshing. You are always quick and efficient, thank you!!!

  My Blogger Friends –YOU ARE AMAZING! I LOVE YOU! No really, I do!!! You take a new chance on me with each book and in return share my passion with the world. You never truly get enough credit, and I’m forever grateful!

  My Readers – I love you. You make my life possible, thank you. I can’t wait to meet many of you this year and in the future!

  Oath Keepers MC Series

  Secrets

  Exposed

  Relinquish

  Forsaken Control

  Friction

  Princess

  Sweet Surrender – free short story

  Love and Obey – free short story

  Daydream

  Baby

  Chevelle

  Russkaya Mafiya Series

  Secrets

  Corrupted

  Corrupted Counterparts – free short story

  Unwanted Sacrifices

  Undercover Intentions

  Dirty Down South Series

  1st Time Love

  3 Times the Heat

  Complete Standalones

  Gangster

  Unexpected Forfeit

  The Main Event – free short story

  Oath Keepers MC Collection

  Russian Roulette

  MC - Motorcycle Club

  Ol’ Lady - Significant Other

  Chapel - Where Church is Held

  Clubhouse/ Compound – MC home base

  Church - MC ‘Meeting’

  Oath Keepers/Widow Makers hybrid charter:

  Viking – President (Prez),

  Heir to the Widow Makers MC, previous NOMAD

  Blaze – Vikings cousin and Princesses security, previous Widow Maker

  Torch – Death Dealer (punisher/enforcer), previous Widow Maker, grew up with Viking.

  Chaos – Close with the NOMADS,

  Ex NFL football player

  Nightmare – Good friend to Viking and Exterminator,

  club officer, previous NOMAD

  Saint and Sinner – Hell Raisers, previous NOMADS

  Smokey – Treasurer, previous Widow Maker

  Odin – Vice President (VP), Vikings younger brother,

  previous Widow Maker

  Mercenary – Transfer from Chicago Charter

  Scot – Deceased

  Bronx - Deceased

  NOMADS:

  Exterminator

  Ruger

  Spider

  Original Oath Keepers MC:

  Ares - Prez

  Cain – VP

  2 Piece – Gun Runner - SAA

  Twist – Unholy One

  Spin – Treasurer

  Snake – Previous President’s son

  Capone – Deceased

  Smiles – Deceased

  Shooter – Deceased

  Scratch – Deceased

  To the haters.

  May they get crotch rot and their dicks fall off.

  Flower – Moby

  Come Together – Gary Clark Jr

  Zombie – The Cranberries

  Dreams – The Cranberries

  Thought Contagion – Muse

  If You Want Love – NF

  Hands Up – NF

  Got You On My Mind- NF

  Natural Blues – Moby

  Wolves – Selena Gomez, Marshmello

  Real – NF

  Hash Pipe – Weezer

  Till It’s Gone – Yelawolf

  Suit and Jacket – Judah and the Lion

  You’re Special – NF

  Tattooed In Reverse – Marilyn Manson

  I Don’t Like The Drugs – Marilyn Manson

  Daylight – Yelawolf

  Let’s Roll – Yelawolf Ft. Kid Rock

&nb
sp; Hate Me – Blue October

  Uprising – Muse

  Psycho – Breaking Benjamin

  1. She is built for a savage.

  - M.A.

  “Mercenary.” My new Prez flicks his hard gaze over me as he takes the seat beside me.

  My eyebrow hikes, but that’s all. I owe fuck all to him or anybody else. You get my respect by earning it, even if everyone around this place claims you’re a bad motherfucker.

  “Pretty sure the perfect job for you just fell in my lap.”

  I grunt. If he asks me to mow out front, I’m going to have to tell him to fuck off. I doubt it since he’s not a pussy. Whatever he offers, I hope it’s not out in the middle of this Texas sun. I came from Chicago; I’m not used to this heat. It’s like being stuck in the depths of hell outside. The others don’t mind it too much, but the shit makes my skin want to shrivel up and fall off.

  “Heard you know your way around a few muscle cars.”

  “Then you heard right.” I turn my head to the side, my neck cracking with the movement.

  “I’ve got some built up interest in a few, you could say. The bitch down at The Pit owes me a favor, and I’ve caught wind that a few Iron Fists have been nosin’ around. This is my fuckin’ turf, even where The Pit lies. I’m not trying to go to war, but I need any bit of information on these motherfuckers I can come up with.”

  My tongue rakes across the front of my teeth, savoring any leftover liquor before I open my mouth to think. “The fuck’s The Pit?” I’ve already been briefed about the Iron Fists, a rival club up to no good where our colors and lives are concerned.

  He smirks as his cousin Blaze sets a fresh beer down in front of him. “It’s a racetrack.”

  “No shit?” I spent my teenage years racing old muscle cars with my father; it was the main thing we bonded over when I was growing up. Racing is in my blood the same as riding is. I can never get enough of the adrenaline, the speed, and the wind on my skin.

  I’ll admit, he’s right about it being the perfect job for me if he wants me to drive for the club. “I don’t have a car.”

  “Like I said, they owe me a few favors over there. They’ll let you use a car, just try not to fuck it up too badly. Supposedly a few pricks wearing Fists’ colors have been showing up lately to place bets. They should keep their distance from you, but if you’re around Chevelle, you may hear something useful.”

  “All right, I can do that.”

  “Bet. I’ll call down there, so they expect you. Ask for Chevelle. And keep your guard up; they’re not the welcoming type to new faces. They’ll try to ass rape you the moment they hear you can race too. I sure as fuck hope you know what you’re doin’ and aren’t dumb enough to place high bets.”

  “I do. I’ll keep my ears open and win some money to boot.”

  An amused smirk plays on his lips as if he knows something I don’t. However, I know how well I drive. They don’t have a fucking clue.

  “How do I get there?”

  “Hit the main road, hang a left. It’s about thirty minutes down on your left side if you run about eighty miles an hour. I’m assuming that’s not too fast for you.”

  I shrug and get to my feet. Obviously, he’s trying to give me some shit being the new member around here, but I was in the Chicago charter since they put that bitch together. This isn’t my first rodeo; they’ll learn soon enough around here.

  The Pit was easy enough to find. I thought it’d be some run-down dirt track off the side of the road. That’s not the case though. This place is a fully enclosed old stadium. It’s called The Pit because, at one time, it was a football field, and rather than having a field below, it’s been replaced with a large race track. And I’m guessing with a set up like this, these aren’t your backyard sports cars being raced.

  Striding through the massive entry, I glance around for whoever is expecting me. There are a few guys walking around wearing blue and green STAFF shirts, but no one looking like they know who the hell I am.

  “Hey, you know a Chevelle?” I holler at the dude closest to me.

  His eyebrows raise, his curious gaze skirting over me from top to bottom. I get it; I look scary as fuck—been told that for years now. I think the only one not frightened when they see me is my parents. They’ve had years to get used to my ominous appearance.

  “Thought I knew all the Oath Keepers,” he comments after a second, staring at the patch with my road name.

  “I just got here,” I say in case he attempts to fill me full of some bullshit. Not being familiar with me, it wouldn’t surprise me if he thought I was an imposter. It damn sure wouldn’t be the first time randoms pop up dressed like rival club members. Normally I’d just tell him to fuck off, but the Prez needs me here, and I don’t want to return from already screwing shit up. Being the black sheep of my last club was bad enough. I’m not aiming to be the same here.

  “Ah.” He nods. “You can find Chevelle down in the middle of The Pit, head tucked under a hood.” He gestures to the opening leading to a tunnel on his right.

  “Appreciate it,” I reply, trekking in that direction. The building’s pretty bare. It’s like any other stadium with concrete and block walls. Various vendor carts not yet open for business pepper each side of the walkway. I bet this place makes a ton of money set up like this.

  The cool tunnel opens up to stadium stacked seating, and I’m about halfway up. Glancing down, I take in multiple levels of stairs, all leading to the outside of the track. There’s a fence surrounding it at the bottom and a few doors to enter. Off to the far right in the back corner is an opening the size of a car bay. I’m guessing that’s how the drivers get in and out.

  Pretty sweet set up, but how do they filter the exhaust out in the enclosed space? Glancing up, the very middle of the dome has various mechanisms attached to it, and it hits me. Race nights, they open the damn roof. Pretty fucking awesome. Not only do you get racing, bets, and food, but also the comforts of being inside and outside all at once. Whoever Chevelle is, they’re a genius turning the stadium into this.

  In the very center of the circle track is a row of five classic muscle cars, so cherry they make my dick hard. They range from bright yellow, midnight, navy, ivory, maroon, and crimson—their flawless paint covered in a clear glossy topcoat that makes them look as if they were just sprayed. Whoever owns these babies doesn’t fuck around and sinks a pretty penny into keeping them top-notch. I can only imagine what’s under the hoods; they’re a grown man’s wet dream.

  Skirting down each row of stairs, my calves burn from the lack of support that my broken-in black leather steel toed riding boots offer. Eventually, I wrench open a door made up of chain-link fence and head toward the vehicles. Each car has its hood raised, and I can make out someone underneath one of them.

  I’m greeted with a gorgeous ass poking out from under a waxed red hood; the rest of her body’s buried under the metal. “I’m looking for Chevelle,” I grumble loud enough for the female to hear me. Hopefully, she knows where I can find him.

  Her body stiffens before she replies, “Who?”

  “Chevelle. I was told he was down here. Is he somewhere else?”

  She curses but doesn’t say anything else.

  I watch her wiggle around, doing who knows what under there. I’m not good at being patient, and it wears thin quickly. “You know where I can find him, sweet cheeks? It’s important.”

  Another moment passes before she scoots back and stands to her full height, meeting my gaze. She’s got grease smudged above her eyebrow, and it’s pretty fucking hot to see a chick not scared to get a little grease on her.

  “You a cop?”

  I snort. “Do I look like a cop to you?”

  Her eyes land on my Oath Keeper patch and she lets out a small sigh.

  “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” I hold my hands up and attempt to look friendly. I’m sure my lips moving look more like a grimace than a smile, but
I’m not here to make friends, so it’s the best I’ve got at the moment.

  She licks her lips. “Chevelle.” She throws her hand out, eyeing me from my boots to the spikey locks on my head resembling the color of ink.

  Not what I was expecting—not one fucking bit. I thought Chevelle was a nickname for a man, but the person in front of me with curves resembling the lines of the sleekest sports car is far from a man.

  My paw engulfs her dainty hand, swallowing her tanned flesh up with mine, and my signature cocky smirk plays along my mouth. This bitch will be in my bed, no doubt. Shall I wager how long it’ll take me to make it happen? Nah, we’ll leave that up to my talents not many have the strength to resist. Women love me, and I couldn’t be more grateful for having that touch bestowed upon me.

  My own gaze takes her in, looking my fill before she replaces her curiosity with a snarl. A fuckin’ angry kitten is what she reminds me of, and I have to bite my tongue from laughing and infuriating her further. “I was told to find you.”

  “Yeah?” Shutters come over her bored gaze, and she turns, striding away without giving me so much as a second to finish speaking.

  “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.” The growl leaves me as I storm after her, the sway of her ass is a welcome site that’s for sure.

  Her head dips under the hood of an ebony muscle car, wrist twisting away at a wrench.

  “Want me to fix it for you?” I offer, hoping the olive branch will get her to cool her jets.

  “Cute,” she scowls.

  “Look, I got your name from my Prez. Like I said earlier, I’m not here to cause any shit.”

  She finishes tightening whatever she’s been working on, standing back to her full height. I’d peg her around five feet six or so. A full foot shorter than myself, yet she doesn’t even blink, looking me over as if I’m another tool she doesn’t need to worry her pretty little head over. She’s mistaken.

  I watch as she pulls a set of keys out of her pocket, flinging them in my direction. It takes me a moment to catch on but snatch the keys before they collide with my face. This kitten likes to scratch it seems.