by Erin Osborne
Our Secrets
Blazing Outlaws MC
Book 3
Erin Osborne
Note to the readers
Dear Readers,
I hope you’re enjoying the Blazing Outlaws MC. Unfortunately, this book, Our Secrets, will be ending on a cliffhanger. The situation you find in these pages is not one I can wrap up in these pages. It will continue into the next book in the series, which will be released as soon as I can get it to you all.
I’m sorry to end it this way. I tried to begin the story line in the next book, but that’s not how things ended up happening. You will all be kept updated on the status of the next book as details become available.
Thank you so much for your understanding and patience.
Erin
Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in book reviews.
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.
Photographer: Reggie Deanching at RplusM Photography
Cover Models: Mike Duckworth and Abigail Joy
Editors: Full Bloom Editing – Courtney Lynn Rose and Rebecca Ernst Vazquez
Our Secrets Blurb
Victoria Steele
I’ve lost the one thing I wanted more in my life than anything. Now, I don’t know how to get past the loss to move on with my life. To realize I still have a life worth living. I just need to open up and let my family in. Including Tags. Will I get the chance to do that?
Colby ‘Tags’ Johnson
I have everything I want in my life; the club, my tattoo shop, and plenty of free pussy. My life is lived a day at a time, and I bust my ass to ensure the tattoo shop, Blazing Ink, I run is as successful as possible. Until Victoria come to work for me. Then all hell breaks loose, and I realize I’ve been living without something important; the love of a good woman. Will I finally get what I want? Or will everything be ripped apart before it really begins?
Dedication
Our Secrets is dedicated to all of the PAs in the Indie Community. Without all of you, we’d be lost. You help create and run our worlds so we can focus on writing and getting books out. Thank you does not mean anything for all of the hardwork you all put in. Melissa and Tammy, you will never know how much all of your hardwork and help mean to me!
Character List
Officers:
President: Kyle ‘Satan’ Jones
V. President: Andy ‘Capone’ Richards
Treasurer: Colby ‘Tags’ Johnson
Secretary: Noah ‘Torch’ Steele
Enforcer: Jesse ‘Grinder’ Williams
Sergeant At Arms: Danny ‘Gunner’ Jones
Road Captain: James ‘Pyro’ Steele
Members:
Drago
Taker
Wrath
Treyton ‘Venom’ Adams
Prospects:
Axel Jones
Tony Colburne
Kyler ‘Rock’ Nichols
Steve Jacobs
Shane Court
Ol’ Ladies:
Raine Carpenter
House Bunnies:
NeNe
Rose
Carly
Lynn
Silk
Toni
Kelly
Businesses:
Gun Running
Drugs – weed
Tattoo Parlor – Blazing Ink
Bar – Outlaw Den
Strip Club – Blazing Babes
Table of Contents
Our Secrets
Note to the readers
Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne
Our Secrets Blurb
Dedication
Character List
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Our Secrets Playlist
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Other Books
Prologue
Victoria
TOMORROW I START work at Blazing Ink. I’ve been in town for a week now, and haven’t seen anyone. I don’t allow anyone in my house or around me. Instead of going to the clubhouse or out in public, I’m a hermit in the apartment. There isn’t a single person I can see right now who won’t know something is going on with me. Something dark I want to keep all to myself.
While I’m happy to work around Tags, and be closer to my brothers, my entire life is imploding. After losing my baby, and Scott turning into an asshole, I have no clue what to do or which direction to turn. My head is so fucked up with doubts. My self-esteem and confidence vanished.
I’m nothing more than a fuck-up who can’t carry a baby.
The only time I feel semi-normal is when I’m drinking. Not just starting to drink or when I have a buzz going, when I’m drunk off my ass, and the voices in my head stop—Scott’s words saying I’m not a woman aren’t playing on a constant loop. This is the only time I feel like half a human or if I’m a woman. I can pretend I’m someone else when the shit isn’t surrounding me. That I didn’t lose the one thing in my life I loved more than my own life. A baby who never had a chance to take their first breath or live their life.
It wasn’t even two days after I miscarried Scott kicked me out of the house we shared. I was given less than twenty-four hours to pack my belongings and be out. Scott left the house, having one of his friends there to ensure I didn’t ruin any of his stuff or take anything that didn’t belong to me. I could barely move, and there was no way I could stop crying. He didn’t give a shit, though. All Scott cared about was me leaving his life as quickly as possible.
It was the loneliest time of my life— and didn’t allow me any time to grieve.
I haven’t spoken to my brothers since coming home. At this point, I don’t care if I see them. My family is overbearing, to say the least. They don’t know my secrets— no one does. About the baby or the drinking. Instead of going to the bars to get drunk like I did at home, I sit inside and drink alone.
This is a new low for me because it’s the first time I truly feel like an alcoholic. Drinking alone is sad and depressing, so it fits my mood completely.
Yes, I know I
could talk to a counselor, but it seems impersonal and not something I’m interested in. If someone hasn’t been in my shoes, they won’t understand what I’m feeling and how I’m coping. No one can help me anymore. I don’t deserve anyone to come to my rescue.
I’ve been here almost a week, and not a single thing has been done in the apartment. My boxes still fill every room. If I’ve gone through anything, the contents of those boxes litter the surfaces surrounding them. I’ve never lived like this but, I can’t bring myself to give a shit about what the place looks like or if I ever unpack my belongings.
I’m so far gone; I can’t pull myself out of this darkness seeping into my body. It consumes every aspect of me— even Tags. For a while after Scott, I dated Tags. No one knows, but he actually made me feel like a beautiful, sexy, woman again. He’s the only one who has made me feel alive since losing the baby. Unfortunately, it’s not enough anymore. Nothing is enough to fill the void I that’s pulling me down into the new abyss that’s my life.
I’ve pushed Tags away. He’s called, sent messages, and stopped by the apartment on several occasions since I moved in, leaving takeout outside my door. The only reason I’ve pulled them inside is because he messaged me to let me know they were there. They’re still uneaten in my refrigerator along with the untouched box of pizza on the counter. It smells like shit after days of sitting there, I just can’t bring myself to walk to the dumpster to get rid of it.
Instead, I sit in the dark, drinking, and thinking about all the ways I’ve failed— not being able to carry a baby, not keeping Scott happy. Instead of grieving for our baby, he lived his life as if I quit existing, and I sunk into a pit of despair.
Tags wants to make us a permanent thing, but it’s not going to happen because I’m not good enough for the amazing man he is.
He’s sweet, loving, and cares about how I feel and what I think. I’m the one he cares about when his body is in mine. If I’m not close, he does whatever it takes so I find my release before he does. Scott didn’t even do that. Tags wants to talk to my brothers to claim me in the eyes of the club. A club that’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. The same one I’ve turned my back on and refuse to have anything to do with since coming back to town.
Now, Tags is just one more who doesn’t need my kind of mess in their life, while I descend further into madness. I haven’t even grieved the loss of my child. It’s still an open wound, left to fester because I don’t know how to grieve.
Honestly, Tags is going to hate me by the time I’m done with things. I’m on such a destructive path, no one can remain intact if they’re near me for very long. I don’t deserve to be with anyone or have the happiness the club members are finding. What I deserve is to be alone to wallow in my own self-pity and destroy myself because that’s obviously all I’m good at.
Hopefully, Tags finds his happiness. It’s something he truly deserves because even though he’s a biker with blood on his hands, the man is the most loving person I’ve ever met. He wears his heart on his sleeve and wants to do right by everyone. Especially the men of the Blazing Outlaws MC— his family because he doesn’t have one to call his own— not by blood anyway.
This is our story. It’s not pretty, but it’s the one we have. The one we must fight through to reach the other side. I’m just not sure if it will be with our family at our backs, or if we’ll be in one piece by the time we get there.
Only time will tell.
Chapter One
Victoria
LAST NIGHT WAS not a good night. I couldn’t get Scott’s words out of my head, and went on a major bender. Any alcohol that was in my house is now gone. Instead of sleeping because the nightmares come and bombard me when I have no protection, I can’t stop feeling the loss of my baby and Scott telling me how pathetic I am, or how I’m so useless I can’t carry a baby to term.
Waking up, I’m on the floor. Again. I seem to find myself on the floor more often than not because I can’t seem to make it to the bed I bought. Picking myself up, I stumble, and my head feels as if drums are playing and fireworks are exploding. My mouth is dry and tastes disgusting, like I haven’t brushed my teeth is weeks. Making my way to the bathroom, I trip over boxes I have yet to unpack and clothes I’ve left wherever I took them off and tossed them. Since I didn’t eat anything yesterday, my system is full of nothing but Jack, Captain, and vodka. I’m still drunk based on the way I’m moving and stumbling into everything.
I push on because I have to be at Blazing Ink in less than an hour. It’s my first day and I want to try to make a good impression on Tags along with the rest of the employees. Hollie might be there getting the books from my boss today. It will be nice to see her for a few minutes. Pushing the thoughts of Hollie from my head, I get in the bathroom and begin to do my morning routine. I actually have to have a morning routine now.
Getting in the shower, I have the water almost freezing just trying to get sober enough to work. I wash my hair twice and then condition it. Once that’s done, I quickly wash my body and shave. I’m surprised I’m even remembering to do that since I haven’t since losing the baby. It’s not a pretty picture right now. I simply don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me or what I need to do in my daily life. The only thing that matters is getting drunk and pretending I’m okay. At least when I’m around people.
Getting out of the shower, I grab a towel, not caring if it’s even clean or not. Drying off, I walk to where my room is, looking around the mess. Boxes are stacked everywhere, clothes I’ve already gone through litter the floor and bed. There are even some empty bottles laying around when I attempted to come in here and pack things up once. Shrugging my shoulders because I can’t make myself care about the mess, I search for clothes appropriate to work in.
Digging through the boxes, I toss clothes around the room. Finally, I find an off the shoulder shirt. It’s black and has some rock band on the front. This is one of my favorite shirts. I’ve worn it so much; you can barely tell what’s on it now. As I continue to search the box in front of me, I pull out a short skirt in black leather. There’s a small slit up the side and it’s definitely going to be showing more leg than I’d like, there just isn’t time for me to look through any other clothes.
Stumbling back into the bathroom, I brush my tangled hair. It takes a long time because I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve brushed it. Not since moving here; that much I remember because no one’s been to see me. If they have been, I haven’t answered the door. My brother’s and at least Tags have been here. None of them have been let past the door. I sat back with a bottle in mind waiting for them to leave me alone in my personal hell once more.
My brush snaps in my attempt to get it through my hair. Tossing the handle behind me, I continue to use the brush to unknot my long, dark hair. It’s matted and I’m ready to simply give up. Instead, I pull the brush through my hair in smaller sections until my hair is back to normal. After brushing my teeth, I apply make-up. Today, because I’m not in the mood to leave my house, I apply it thick and dark. My eyes are almost black with the eyeshadow I have on followed by mascara and bright red lipstick. It’s so red, I feel as if my lips are coated in blood.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I scoff at my reflection. I look haggard and unkempt even though I’ve already taken a shower and actually gotten dressed. At best, I look like a homeless prostitute. Not exactly how I want to show up to my first day at work, I just don’t have a choice anymore. I’m already late which is something Tags doesn’t tolerate when it comes to his business. He’s the most punctual man I know.
Leaving the house, I walk to the tattoo parlor. It’s not a far walk and if I weren’t still feeling the effects of the alcohol I consumed last night, I’d drive my car. Unfortunately, I don’t want to get pulled over on the way there and have my brothers find out. Torch and Pyro aren’t exactly the forgiving type. I’m already hiding so much from them; this would just be the icing on the cake because they wouldn�
��t leave me alone until they find out all of my secrets. Secrets I’ll never be ready to divulge to anyone.
The shower did nothing to help sober me up. Walking to work as the sun begins to beat down on me. Sweat is beginning to cover my body while my shirt clings to the upper half of my body. Even through the mask of perfume and deodorant, the smell of alcohol is wafting from my skin. Anyone around me is going to be able to smell it permeating from my skin. Hell, they may just get drunk from it coming off me. This is definitely not how I wanted to go to work my first day. Unfortunately, the need to overcome the demons haunting me overwhelmed me to the point I couldn’t do anything except attempt to drink them away.
Drinking never keeps my demons away. They seem to taunt me worse as the alcohol floods my system. Still, I can’t seem to stop no matter what I do. The alcohol makes the day bearable to the point I can almost function. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself lately. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m still drinking since Scott isn’t here any longer and has had no contact with me since he kicked me out of his house. The house we were supposed to share. Yeah, I supposed I’m still bitter about the way he treated me after losing our baby.
The doctor told me there wasn’t any particular reason I had a miscarriage when it happened. Apparently, these things just happen sometimes; there’s nothing you can do to prevent them. One of the nurses informed me it was nature’s way of telling me Scott and I weren’t meant to be. No matter what anyone told me at the hospital, nothing penetrated my grief fueled brain. Nothing mattered except the pain I was feeling. The loss overrode every other thing in my life.
Other than drinking, when I was with Tags was the only time I could semi feel normal. He made me forget the pain as I put my all into pretending to be happy around him. Tags would tell me about things going on at the clubhouse, other than club business, about things at the tattoo parlor, and anything else he could think to entertain me. Those moments I cherish; I live for them because they helped me get through shit when drinking wasn’t available.