by K. A. Ware
Tempt My Trouble
Knights Of Mayhem Book One
K.A. Ware
Contents
Tempt My Trouble Playlist
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Thank You For Reading
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Stalk Me Online
Also by K.A. Ware
Copyright © 2019 by K.A. Ware
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design by Bite Me Graphic Designs
Edited by Ellie McLove
Dedication
To my husband.
Thank you for putting up with my crazy and loving me in a way I never knew was possible.
Also, if you ever try to die on me again, I’ll fucking kill you.
Tempt My Trouble Playlist
Black Honey - Thrice
Sail - DevilDriver
Kill Of The Night - Gin Wigmore
Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit
Last Damn Night - Elle King
Desire - Meg Myers
Nobody Praying For Me - Seether
Tempt My Trouble - Bishop Briggs
Bitches Broken Hearts - Billie Eilish
I Like Trouble - Jailbreakers Ltd
Ride - ZZ Ward
Alive - XYLØ
Kids (Ain’t All Right) - Grace Mitchell
Raise Hell - Dorothy
Vicious - Halestorm
Don’t Stop The Devil - Dead Posey
I’m Gonna Do My Thing - Royal Deluxe
Chasing Parties - Sasha Sloan
This Is The New Shit - Marilyn Manson
Bitter End - The Veer Union
Winners & Losers - Social Distortion
White Rabbit - Egypt Central
Gravedigger - MXMS
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie
Prologue
NORAH
I’m sorry, baby girl.
Bomber’s words played over in my head in a loop. Every time I closed my eyes to blink away the tears I saw his leathered face twisted in sorrow and anguish, something I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life. Nothing could erase the pity in the eyes of my father’s best friend as he stood on my doorstep and told me that my protector, the one person who’d sheltered me from all the bullshit in this world, was dead. No, that memory would be etched into my soul for eternity, of that I was sure.
My hands shook as I read the letter Bomber had given me again. It wasn’t long, but in hindsight, that was to be expected. My father, Patrick ‘Lucky’ O’Brien didn’t beat around the bush. He was direct, no sugar coating, no bullshit. He couldn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of him, he was who he was and if you didn’t like it, too fucking bad. I loved that about him. Even when I was a little girl, if I asked a question, he gave it to me straight, no matter how ugly or unpleasant. It was about respect.
I sat on the gas tank of my father’s Harley, making engine noises as I imagined flying down the highway on my own bike—cruising down the road with my all-girl motorcycle club behind me. Papa’s club didn’t let girls in, but mine would be the opposite, no boys allowed.
“Is that your biker face?” Papa asked, leaning over me. His nose was scrunched up and his lips twisted in a menacing scowl, mirroring my own. Most people thought he was scary when he made that face, but I thought it was cute. His big red beard made him look like Irish Santa, but without the belly. Not that Santa was real, I knew that Santa was a bullshit story for babies, my papa told me so. And I wasn’t a baby, nope I was a big girl, and in just seven years I’d get to have my very own bike.
“Yep! I’m practicing,” I said, giving him my best growl.
He laughed, eyes crinkling around the edges, and crooked teeth peeking out of his bushy beard as he smiled down at me. Papa didn’t smile like that for anyone but me. He said it’s because he loved me so much he couldn’t hold it in.
“What are you practicing for?” he asked.
I leaned to the side, pretending I was going around a curve. “When I grow up, I’m going to be the baddest biker chick in the world!” Lifting a fist in the air, I pumped it twice before returning it to the handlebars. I couldn’t wait to ride all by myself.
When I glanced back at him, he was shaking his head. “I have no doubt, baby. No doubt at all.”
He let me play for a little while longer until Mom came out and ruined all the fun.
“Are you fuckin’ done yet?” she sneered. Hands on her hips, she tapped her foot impatiently. She had the mean look in her eyes she always got when Papa came to visit.
I felt Papa straighten behind me on the bike. He hated it when Mom used that voice. And when she did, he always made that scary-to-everyone-but-me face and used his mean voice. “I’m spending time with my kid, Charese.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look. I ain’t scared, Lucky. I got shit to do today, and you’re wasting my fuckin’ time.”
A growl rumbled in Papa’s chest, and I felt it vibrate through me, all the way to my toes. “You don’t have to be such a fuckin’ bitch about it.”
“Come on Norah, let’s go,” Mom snapped impatiently.
He sighed and climbed off the bike. Grabbing under my arms, he lifted me and set me on my feet in front of him. The hot asphalt burned the bottoms of my bare feet, but I didn’t complain. I didn’t want to miss out on a minute of Papa’s visit.
“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, I’ll be gone for a while, but I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, hoping it was somewhere he could take me with him.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile, at least that’s what I thought it was, his beard made it impossible to know for sure. “I broke the law, and I’m going to jail, baby. I can’t take you with me,” he said, reading my mind.
I pursed my lips, trying not to let the tears come. I hated it when Papa had to leave. “When will you be back?”
He sighed again and crouched down, so we were eye to eye, his hand reached out and tucked a stray lock of my bright red hair behind my ear. “I’m not sure, baby girl. But as soon as I get ou
t, I’m coming straight here.”
My shoulders drooped, and I looked at the ground, willing away the tears that stuck in my throat. “Promise?”
He curled a finger under my chin and lifted my head so I’d meet his eyes. “I promise.”
I lost the battle with my tears, and my lips began to quiver. “And you’re sure you can’t take me?”
A grim look passed over his features, and he shook his head. I wanted to scream and cry, but I knew it wouldn’t work.
Papa always left.
“I may not always be able to give you the answer you want, but I’ll never lie to you, pumpkin. You know why?”
A hint of a smile started to tug on my lips at his familiar words. He always said the same thing before he left, and I knew my part of the ritual by heart. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I sniffled and said my line. “Because you respect me.”
“That’s right, baby girl. I love you more than anything, and that means you have my respect, always. You can’t have love without respect. It’s the most important part. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Rolling up on my toes, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed tight. “I won’t forget Papa. I love you forever and ever.”
My mother only took me to see him once when he was locked-up that time. It wasn’t out of the kindness of her heart either. She brought me to visit so she could squeeze more money out of my father after pissing away her monthly stipend from the club. All she cared about was where her next fix was coming from, and she couldn’t give two shits if I missed my father.
A fresh wave of silent tears came from the memory, and spilled onto the letter, smearing the ink. I quickly dabbed the moisture away with my sleeve and stared down at my father’s messy handwriting.
Norah,
If you’re reading this, that means I didn’t make it out of this last stint. I’m sorry about that. I’ve never had time for regret. It always seemed like a wasted emotion to me. But as I sit here writing you the most recent draft of this letter, I wish I had lived a life where these things weren’t necessary.
I’m an old man now, baby girl, and the men in this lifestyle don’t die of old age. Do me a favor and never fall for a biker, we’re all assholes and more trouble than we’re worth. Find a nice man with a regular job who respects you and can give you a life where you breathe easy. Be happy, that’s all I want for you.
I know you were counting on me to pay for school, but you’ll find a way. You’re a smart girl, and I’ve done my best to teach you how to survive in this world. The money Bomber gave you is everything I have. He’ll sell my bike and send you that money too. It should be enough to get you set up at school and keep your head above water for a while. Don’t tell your mother about the money, we both know what will happen if you do.
No matter what, you need to leave this godforsaken place and start your new life. I’m going to be as honest as I can with you, baby girl. Things with the club aren’t good. Tides have been shifting for a while. Whatever happens to me, won’t be an accident. You’re not in any immediate danger, they want the club for themselves, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, but you need to be smart and stay safe. The days of going to the club for help are over. They aren’t your family anymore. Bomber is the only one I still trust to make sure you’re taken care of, if you find yourself in a jam, he’s the one you call.
Pulling yourself up and out of the shithole you’ve had to grow up in isn’t going to be smooth sailing, but you’re a survivor, and I know you’ll make it.
I love you, pumpkin.
Papa
I folded the letter and tucked it back into my wallet. Picking up the large envelope Bomber had given me a week ago and adding the stack of cash from the sale of my father’s Harley he’d handed me earlier that afternoon, I thumbed through the bills. Seventy thousand dollars was more money than I’d ever dreamed of holding in my hands — money that, if my mother knew about it, would be gone in an instant. The cash in that envelope was my only hope of getting out and making something of myself.
I glanced across the room to where Natalie slept, curled under the covers. A pang of something I couldn’t place, hit me square in the chest and fresh tears began to tumble down my cheeks. She looked innocent and fragile in the moonlight. She’d just turned fourteen, but she was still so young, I’d done my best to shelter her from the bullshit.
How was I supposed to leave her all by herself? Would she be able to make it? Had I taught her enough?
Questions upon questions raced through my mind, but I didn’t have the answers. If I stayed, I’d lose my place at Portland State University, Mom would eventually find the money, and all hope of making a life for myself and my sister would be out the fucking window. But could I leave her with an absentee mother and no one else to protect her? We didn’t have the same father, so Bomber had no loyalty to her.
She had no one but me.
What exactly are you going to be able to give her by staying?
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and admitted to myself that I had nothing to offer Nat if I stayed. There was no future here, it was impossible to save money around my mother, and even if I could manage it, I’d be working a dead-end job with no way to get ahead.
I swallowed hard against the sobs rising in my chest and forced my body into action. Quietly, I packed the necessities into my duffle, burying the envelope of money at the bottom. Growing up the way I had, between skipping out on leases and evictions, picking up at a moment’s notice and starting over was second nature. You learned early on not to form attachments to material things. If you couldn’t carry it on your back, it probably wasn’t that important.
When I finished gathering the necessities, I walked over to my nightstand and picked up the picture that sat there. It was a snap of a much younger version of Natalie and myself sitting on the curb in front of our apartment building, our arms wrapped around each other as we smiled up at the camera. She’d made the macaroni frame in school for Mother’s Day when she was ten, but instead of giving it to our shit-for-brains Mom, she’d given it to me.
I carefully tucked the framed picture between a pair of folded jeans and zipped up the bag. I thought about leaving a note for Natalie, but I couldn’t risk Mom finding it. She had no idea that I’d even applied to colleges, my father and Natalie were the only ones who knew about my plans, but that was before. Even though he was locked up, Papa had assured me that he’d make sure Natalie was safe while I was away. That safety blanket was ripped away with this revelation about the club. With him gone, it felt nearly impossible to leave.
You don’t have a choice. Neither of you will have a future if you don’t go.
I tiptoed to where she slept, the bed dipping as I sat next to her and stroked her soft blonde hair until she stirred. She groaned and rolled onto her back, blinking up at me with tired eyes.
Seeing that I was crying, she sat up. “What’s wrong?”
I looked down at my lap and willed myself to be strong. When I glanced back up, I followed Nat's gaze to the opposite side of the small room where my duffle lay on my unmade bed.
“You’re leaving?” she whispered, her eyes finally turning to me.
“I have to,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. I’d cried so much in the past week I was sure my body would shrivel into a raisin from dehydration.
A look I couldn’t place crossed her eyes, and she flung her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you do. Just don’t forget about me.”
The air escaped my lungs in a whoosh, and I hugged her even tighter. “Never. I’ll get things settled, and as soon as you turn eighteen, I’ll be here to get you.”
“Promise?” she asked, pulling away to search my eyes in the pale moonlight.
I stroked an errant tear from her cheek and nodded. “I promise.”
With a final hug and a kiss to her forehead, I slung my duffle and backpack over my shoulder and crept out the front door. Throwing my bags into the back, I cli
mbed into my rusted 1987 Acura Integra and pulled out of the dilapidated apartment complex headed for the interstate.
One
FINLEY
Note to self: if a guy takes you to a strip club on your first date, chances are, he’s a douche.
“Here,” Kurt slurred, taking a five-dollar bill and folding it long ways. I spotted the glint in his glazed eyes before he moved and I had to fight not to roll my eyes. The drunken asshole was telegraphing his play, and I was about done with his sloppy ass.
I plucked the bill from his fingers and tucked it between my ample cleavage so that it was sticking up and out of my shirt. Giving him what he wanted without having to be subjected to his grabby hands. Kurt’s tongue darted out to lick his thin lower lip as his eyes zeroed in on the top of my exposed breasts.
Fucking scumbag.
Holding back a groan of disgust, I turned my attention back to the dancer on stage, asking myself for the hundredth time in the last hour why I agreed to a date with the asshole. I knew the answer of course but was seriously debating whether a deal with my little sister was worth the mental agony of listening to a creep like Kurt explain the finer points of strip club etiquette.