Devils debt devils regen.., p.1
Devil's Debt (Devil's Regents MC: Baton Rouge Book 1), page 1
DEVIL’S DEBT
SARAH BALE
Copyright © 2025 by Sarah Bale
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including A.I, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by: Sly Fox Cover Design
Cover Model: Ian Brownhill
Cover Photographer: Tina @ La Femme Boudoir
Edited by: Katrina Harris
First Printing: September 2025
Devil’s Debt / Sarah Bale -- 1st ed
To Ian, who, once again, gave me a cover image I adore! And to Tina for capturing it.
And to everyone who wanted to know what happened to Swag… just know it’s going to be one hell of a ride.
CONTENTS
Let’s Connect!
Content Warning:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Also by Sarah Bale:
About the Author
LET’S CONNECT!
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RULE #1 OF LIVING ON THE STREETS:
DON’T TRUST ANYONE, ESPECIALLY IF THEY’RE IN A MOTORCYCLE CLUB
Broken…
I’m the girl trying to just get by. Since my parents died, I’ve spent my life on the streets, and I’ve managed to survive. Barely. But now I’m at a crossroads, and I’m not sure what to do. And then he walks into my restaurant…
Lost…
The day I meet Swag, I know my life will never be the same. Somehow, he cares about me and makes sure I’m safe. He even manages to get me into an exclusive college program where I can get the degree I’ve always dreamed of.
Saved…
But accepting a deal from a Motorcycle Club comes with strings, and Swag always collects his debts. It would be easy to hate him, but I don’t. I can’t. Not when he makes me feel. But I have to betray him to save him, and then I run. He’s better off without me. Too bad he can’t see the truth.
CONTENT WARNING:
This book contains situations that readers may find offensive or triggering, including death of a parent, childhood trauma, and drug use.
Reader discretion is advised.
Themes and tropes: age-gap, motorcycle club, touch her and die, and forced marriage.
1
Jo-Leigh
“The world is your playground, so let’s show them what we’re capable of!”
Cheers erupt around me, but I can’t summon the energy to smile, let alone celebrate. High school is officially over. It’s an ending that feels more like a funeral than a victory. For someone like me who's been coasting through life with a cracked compass and no map, it's terrifying.
What would my classmates say if they knew I’ve spent the last two years living in my car? If they knew the real reason I was kicked out of my last foster home. If they knew my foster father was found standing over my bed in the middle of the night. No one asked questions. No one cared if I was okay. They just wanted me gone.
So yeah, maybe I’m not surrounded by family or friends, but at least I made it. I’m graduating. That’s something. Even if it’s in a special ceremony in December, not May, like most graduations. The school district finally got around to creating a fast-track program, mostly for the teen moms, helping them finish school before they give birth.
Just to be clear, that’s not my story. Not even close, despite the rumors.
Someone bumps my arm, and I blink back to the present. Everyone around me is standing, caps in hand, ready for the big toss. Adele LeBlanc, the girl next to me, has a cap decked out in a full-on Twilight theme. Yes, the vampire movie, not the time of day. We’ve been alphabetically chained together since seventh grade, yet I don’t think we’ve exchanged more than two words.
So when Adele turns and says, “Are you coming to my party?” I almost forget how to breathe.
I glance over my shoulder, convinced she must be speaking to someone else.
She laughs. “I was talking to you, Joey-Leigh.”
I cringe. Only people who don’t know me call me that. It’s Jo-Leigh.
“Oh, um… I didn’t know there was a party.”
“There’ve been flyers all over the senior hallway for weeks,” she says, shaking her head like I’m some kind of lost cause.
Maybe I am.
“What’s your number? I’ll text you the info.”
I hesitate. My prepaid phone is hanging on by a thread with just a few gigs of data left, and I need those for job applications or emergency weather alerts. Not teenage party invites. Still, I rattle off the number when she pulls her phone out from beneath her graduation gown.
“There. I texted you.”
“Thanks,” I say, even though I’m not sure I mean it.
“It’s out at Lake Verret. Bring a swimsuit.”
Before I can reply, she wraps me in a quick, unexpected hug, then darts off toward the sound of someone calling her name. The countdown starts—five, four, three—and the sky fills with shouts and the rustle of caps ready to fly.
Freedom High’s special graduation ceremony only has twenty-one of us walking the stage, but the stadium seats are full. Guess this tiny town of Paincourtville, Louisiana loves a spectacle. That also means I’ve got two choices. Leave now and beat the traffic or wait it out until the parking lot clears and no one’s around to judge the rusted-out junker I call a car.
Easy decision.
I turn and slip out before the caps go airborne. One last quiet exit from a place that never really saw me anyway. No one notices as I slip through the crowd. Behind me, a roar of cheers erupts just as I reach the doors. I don’t look back.
Outside, the humidity hits me like a wet towel. It’s thick and clinging, even in the dead of winter. That’s the deep South for you. I tug at my graduation robe, unfastening the buttons. We were told to wear something nice for the ceremony, but I don’t own “nice.” Just a pair of frayed jean shorts and a hand-me-down t-shirt under the stiff purple fabric. Not like anyone noticed.
My car is parked in the far back corner of the lot, tucked away from the shiny SUVs and polished sedans I’ll never be able to afford. By the time I reach the old Honda, sweat trickles down my spine. The car’s once-white paint is sun-bleached and rusted in blotches like peeling skin. The check engine light’s been a permanent fixture since I bought it. Still, it’s mine. I hustled for it, and no one can take it from me. I won’t let them.
The door lock is busted. I have to wiggle the key just right, which is getting harder with every try. I’ll need to replace the mechanism soon, and the thought of coughing up sixty dollars makes my stomach twist. But if I can’t get in my car, I don’t have a place to sleep tonight.
I mutter a curse when the door sticks again.
“Pretty bold to try and lift a car in broad daylight,” says a voice behind me. It’s low, smooth, and just a little amused.
I screech and whip around, heart in my throat.
A massive man towers over me, easily a foot and a half taller, maybe more. I instinctively press myself against my car, like that’ll do anything. It’s not just his height that’s intimidating. It’s everything. The dark buzzed hair, the chiseled jaw cloaked in a five o’clock shadow, the sheer mass of him. Muscle on muscle, like he was carved from stone and then dropped into my life just to scare the hell out of me.
I feel tiny next to him, and I’m not tiny. “Fat” is usually the word people throw at me when they think I can’t hear. Heck, sometimes even when they know I can hear.
My gaze flicks from his full lips to his ice-blue eyes that are currently locked on me. He’s waiting for me to say something.
“I—I’m not stealing it,” I stammer. “It’s mine. The handle’s just broken.”
I shift to the left, giving him a clear view of the door, trying to make it obvious I’m not up to anything shady. He leans slightly to peer over my shoulder right into the backseat where my sleeping bag is sprawled out like a dead giveaway.
&
The way he lingers on it… yeah, he knows exactly what it’s for.
“I, uh,” My voice catches, but I push forward. “I need to go. I’m meeting some friends at a party out at the lake.”
His gaze lifts from the backseat to meet mine. “The lake, huh?” A pause. “Well then, you better get going.”
We stare at each other, locked in this weird, tense silence. I’m not sure if he’s suspicious or just curious, but either way, I need out of this moment.
I finally turn back to the door, fumbling with the lock until it gives with a reluctant click. I slide into the seat so fast that I bump my knee on the steering wheel.
“You should get that fixed,” he says, resting one hand casually on the roof. “I’ve got a shop in Baton Rouge off Sherman. Tell them Swag sent you.”
“Swag?” I echo, blinking.
He taps his chest. “That’s me.”
“Right. Thanks.”
He steps back as I shut the door and lock it. The man—Swag—just smirks at me through the window as I start the engine. Thank God it turns over. Lately, it's been a coin toss whether it’ll even start. I ease the car out of the lot, still feeling his gaze burning into the back of my neck like a brand. My muffler drags the ground as I speed away, which I’m sure he notices.
There’s no way I’m going to that shop on Sherman. I might not get out much, but even I know that’s Devil’s Regents MC territory. People whisper about them like they're ghost stories come to life. Guns, fights, disappearances, and worse. If Swag is part of that? Yeah, hard pass. I’m not about to roll up asking for favors from a biker gang.
I catch one last glance of him in the rearview mirror before I make a sharp turn and head toward the only place that’s ever felt halfway safe.
The back lot of Sweet Caroline’s is almost empty, save for Armand’s ancient pickup and Caroline’s sedan. I park in the shadows and kill the engine. There goes Adele’s lake party, not that I could’ve gone anyway. I picked up an extra shift tonight. Caroline needed help, and I need the cash. Priorities.
I peel off my graduation robe and toss it onto the passenger seat, its purple sheen catching the last slant of sunlight. One more milestone that didn’t quite feel like mine. But that’s okay. I’ll find what I’m looking for one of these days.
Inside the diner, it smells like coffee and fried things and comfort.
“You’re early! Stop right there!” Caroline calls from behind the counter, raising a hand like she’s directing traffic.
I freeze, confused.
She disappears into the kitchen, only to reappear a second later with a cake balanced in her hands. Armand follows, grinning like a proud grandpa.
“Congratulations, Jo-Leigh!” they both say, almost in unison.
A grin splits my face, the kind that hurts a little because I’m not used to smiling that big. “You didn’t have to do that for me!”
“Of course we did. Especially since you’re saving my butt by working tonight,” Caroline says, setting the cake down with a flourish. She narrows her eyes at me. “Unless you’ve got plans? I heard the LeBlancs are throwing a big party at Lake Verret.”
“I was planning to stop by after my shift,” I lie smoothly.
She touches my cheek, fingers warm and gentle. “Good. You deserve a little fun.”
Fun usually costs money. And money is what I need to get the hell out of this town, so, no, I won’t be going.
I force another smile. “What kind of cake did you get?”
“Chocolate. Obviously.”
She slices into it while I stash my bag in the back and tie on my apron. I make sure every customer gets a piece before grabbing my own. The rich smell makes my stomach rumble. This’ll probably be my only real meal today, so I make sure to eat it slowly, so it doesn’t make me sick.
Caroline and Armand bicker in the background, like always. About coffee filters or how many napkins to put out. But under the back-and-forth, there’s a kind of rhythm to them. It’s comforting. They might squabble, but they leave together every night. Always.
They should be heading out soon if they want to make it to Dallas before dark. Caroline’s sister just had a baby, and she’s been itching to go meet the newest member of the family.
And I’ll be here, closing up the place while everyone else celebrates.
I finish off the last bite of cake, licking chocolate frosting from the side of my fork. “Thank you so much. Now get out of here. You’re going to be late.”
“She’s right,” Armand says, already shrugging into his jacket. “And our hotel room is nonrefundable.”
Caroline laughs. “Well, we can’t waste money now, can we?”
The look she shares with Armand is so full of quiet affection it makes something in my chest ache. It’s not dramatic or movie perfect. It’s real. And just for a second, I wonder what it would feel like to have someone look at me that way.
Caroline waves for me to follow her into the back office. I trail behind, wiping my hands on my apron.
“Here are the keys,” she says, pressing them into my palm. “If it’s dead tonight, go ahead and close up early. Oh—and this is for you.” She holds out an envelope, thick enough to make my stomach flip. “Open it once we’re gone.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“We wanted to, Jo-Leigh,” she interrupts gently. “You’ve worked so hard since day one, and we just want you to know how much we appreciate you.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes go glassy. “Thank you.”
She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug, then backs away when Armand calls her name from the front. I tuck the envelope into my pocket like it’s something sacred and head back to work.
The rest of the shift flies by in a strange, comforting blur. Sweet Caroline’s is famous for its desserts, so I spend most of the evening boxing up slices of pie and cheesecake. The tips come fast and generous and I can’t help but wonder if Caroline let something slip to the regulars. Each customer has a kind word, a bit of advice, a blessing for the road ahead. For once, I don’t feel like just a face behind the counter.
At eight sharp, I flip the sign to CLOSED and twist the lock. The diner is quiet now, humming only with the sound of the fridge and the faint clink of dishes as I clean. I mop, wipe down the tables, refill napkin holders. It’s a ritual. A way to keep my hands busy, to avoid the silence that waits for me outside. The trash takes three trips. I don’t rush.
Finally, I drop into the booth by the window, the only light coming from the neon FRESH PIES sign still buzzing faintly in the window. I pull out the envelope. The card is simple. Soft pink, with my name written in Caroline’s neat handwriting. Inside, a handwritten note and cash. My breath hitches. Five hundred dollars. Crisp bills tucked carefully behind the card.
I blink hard as tears well up again. It’s too much. More than I’ve ever been given in one sitting. Part of me wants to march back to the office and leave it on her desk, but I know better. Caroline would see that as an insult, and her note confirms it.
Jo-Leigh,
You’ve been a bright light in our lives from the day we met you. You know we always wanted kids, but weren’t blessed, so please let us do this for you.
Love Always,
Caroline
Well, crap. How can I refuse the money now?
I tuck the bills into my wallet with the rest of my tips, still a little stunned. My eyes flick to the clock. There’s this itchy, restless feeling crawling under my skin, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
Adele’s voice keeps looping in my head. Are you coming to my party? Why would she invite me? We’ve barely exchanged two words in the last six years. Pity? Maybe. That, I can believe. But the crazy thing is I kind of want to go.
I spent all four years of high school surviving. I’ve kept my head down and stayed invisible. I didn’t go to dances or games. I didn’t make memories. I just kept my head above water. Is it ridiculous to start living now, after graduation?
I glance around the empty diner. Everything’s clean and locked up. Still smells faintly of sugar and fryer grease. I could go, just for a bit. See what it's like. Then come back and crash in Caroline’s office like I planned.
