by Jayne Blue
Dark Destiny
A Dark Saints MC Novel
Jayne Blue
Grand City Publishing
Contents
Dark Destiny
1. Five Years Ago…
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
Up Next Dark Oath
Also By Jayne Blue
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Other series By Jayne Blue
A Taste of Dark Temptation
Excerpt from Sawyer
Dark Destiny
Text Copyright ©2018 Jayne Blue 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 or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
1
Five Years Ago…
Lyric
* * *
I raced to the store after my last class. I was so over Port Az High School. I only had one week left anyway. I dreamed of the next adventure in my life every free second. I had been accepted to the Savannah College of Art and Design. I couldn’t get there fast enough.
I was going to study interior design with a minor in fashion. Or maybe the reverse. Everyone said you figured some of that out once you got there. I just wanted to get there.
I hustled out of school and to the shop. My grandpa ran Wilde Pawn in Port Azreal, Texas. I worked the counters. I spent my hours pricing, researching, and stocking. I did pretty much whatever he needed me to do.
It was grandpa, mom, and me. That was the sum total of my family. Dad had never been in the picture and grandma had died when I was little. We were a funky threesome, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“There’s my girl.”
I kissed my Papus’s cheek and he looked up from the gold ring he was inspecting. He wore a magnifying glass around his head, like a visor, to see the details of the piece.
“Did anyone comment on the display?”
Papus had let me stage some of the china he’d gotten in the store. I’d paired it with a Haywood Wakefield mid-mod drop leaf antique table that he said he couldn’t unload. I just knew someone was going to want that table. It was on trend! But alas, most of the people who came into Wilde Pawn had no idea what mid-mod was. I persisted though.
“Yeah, all the hip ex-cons who need cash love the way you combined 1950s crap with turn of the century crystal.”
Papus didn’t see the need to display the items in any sort of aesthetically pleasing way. He indulged me anyway.
“It’s called mid-century modern, Papus. You never know, maybe we’ll attract a better class of customer with my brilliance? Ya ever think of that?”
“We’ll attract something alright, Lyric Wilde.”
Papus wished I were still five, even though I was eighteen.
“Mom is working late. It’s just you and me for dinner.” My mother worked as a teller at the bank during the day. On nights and weekends, she worked here at Wilde Pawn.
“I have some goulash on the stove. It’s getting slow. Handle the last hour and I’ll get it finished up for us.”
“Sounds good, Papus.”
Papus stood up. I heard the familiar creaking and popping of his joints. Papus was short, with a potbelly. I knew that extra weight took a toll on his knees. He moved slow but could still make a fast deal.
“Close up on the dot. No exceptions or stragglers.”
“Okay, Papus.” I pointed to his head.
“What?” He put a hand up to the visor mounted magnifying glass. He shook his head. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” He took it off and put it under the counter.
“Don’t forget to warm the bread!”
I loved every meal Papus made. No question though, his cozonac was the best part. It was a staple at Easter. And a treat any time.
“On the dot. No stragglers.”
“Got it.”
Papus headed to the back and to the stairs. We occupied a pretty big space above the store. Papus and my mom said not paying rent or an extra mortgage was how they had saved for my upcoming move to college. Their hard work in the store and the bank, and my hard work in the classroom, meant we could afford my college dreams. But just barely.
They sacrificed for me. I knew it and was grateful.
Papus was the gypsy word for grandpa. Papus said his ancestors were full Romanian gypsies that came over to America during the Depression. He told me bedtime stories of their adventures.
I didn’t know how true Papus’s tales were. The only thing that I could verify were my looks. I was a fish out of water in this Texas town. I didn’t fit in with the blonde cheerleaders; my hair was an explosion of dark angry curls. I also didn’t fit in with the rich Mexican roots planted deep in Port Az. Papus brought the family here in the 1980s, way before I was born. I’d spent my entire life in Port Az. Even so, I was an outlier.
Except in the shop. Here, I was at home. I would miss it, no question. But I was ready to spread my wings and learn how to be a real designer! I loved finding the funky stuff that people pawned and repurposing it. I loved arranging displays for Papus. And I couldn’t wait to do more of that. Clothing and or home design, my favorite flipped depending on the day of the week, but it was always one or the other.
The bell on the shop door rang and a couple of men walked in. They were skinny and didn’t look too clean. They had the look of trouble about them. I knew that look. I’d grown up in the shop. People who needed easy cash were in and out of the place all the time. People who needed easy cash usually had a back story that involved crime, drugs, or some other bad decision. To that at least, I wasn’t naïve.
We were an attractive target for scumbags. Papus had taught mom and me how to defend the shop. I had a shotgun under the counter and I slid my hand onto it. Just in case.
One of the men came up to the counter and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The other one hovered in the corner. He was looking at our display cases, or pretending to. I knew how to trust my instincts and my instinct was that these two were here to rob us.
“Can I help you?” I smiled.
“Just wondering if you can make change for me?” The guy said. He was there to get me to open the cash drawer.
“No, we’re not an ATM or a bank. Do you have something to pawn?”
“Yeah, uh, Dougie? Bring it over.” The dude he called Dougie looked nervous. He looked at his friend and walked toward the counter.
“Let’s see.”
I watched as Dougie fished around his jeans pocket. It was a mistake. The second I switched my focus to Dougie, the guy who’d done the talking reached across the glass counter and grabbed my shirt.
“Okay, sweet thing. Open the fucking register.”
He yanked me forward across the top of the counte
r. I lost touch with the shotgun under the counter. I also lost the chance to push the alarm button. I cursed myself. I should have acted faster. I was probably screwed.
My mind raced. I needed to regain control of the situation. Fast.
The opportunity came in the form of the front doorbell ringing again. The two greasy assholes were momentarily distracted. Their heads swiveled around to see who was entering. I yanked myself out of the guy’s grip and with one quick movement grabbed the shotgun. I took a step back and tried to lift it to my shoulder.
The one named Dougie scrambled around the case and I backed up again. I had one in front of me and one on the side. I was cornered. I could only shoot one.
“You better get the heck out of here or I start shooting.”
I didn’t have a clear shot at either of them. I took my best aim at the boss of the two and Dougie stopped his forward progress. He looked toward the other guy for direction.
We formed three points of an uneasy triangle.
“You aren’t going to shoot me. Grab her!”
I cocked the shotgun but couldn’t squeeze the trigger. This time Dougie, who’d been closing in on the side of me, yanked my arm. For all I knew, whoever had just entered the shop was with these first two and ready to finish this job.
“HEY! FUCKERS! I’d listen to the lady.”
All three of us froze again. I could smell Dougie’s cigarette breath. I strained away from it and looked in the direction of the man who’d just entered.
“Fuck you, Saint. Mind your own damn business.”
The man was tall. He wore a leather jacket, cowboy boots, and tight jeans. His dark hair skimmed his broad shoulders.
“This is my business. Last I heard you two were supposed to get the fuck out of town.”
“Is this still Port Az, Miss?” the man in leather asked me. The two skinny dudes had the stink of nerves, and their eyes darted around. This man in the leather jacket was the opposite. He was stone cold, staring them down. When he looked at me I saw a lifeline. He was there to help me. Papus always said the eyes didn’t lie. I trusted his eyes.
I nodded yes at his question about Port Az.
“I’ll say it again. Let the lady go and get the fuck out of here.”
The man didn’t have a gun. He didn’t make a move to hurt the two robbers. The air in the shop shifted when he spoke. His voice was low, serious, and menacing. I didn’t know what he might do to Dougie and this other loser.
They appeared to be considering their options.
“Fine, Dougie. Let’s go. This is bullshit anyway.” Dougie let my arm go. I raised the shotgun and took better aim at the skinny boss.
I kept my stance and eye trained on them. I didn’t know who this leather-clad superhero was. I liked his eyes, but I firmed up my grip on the shotgun anyway. Papus had always drilled that into us. Take care of ourselves. Be wary.
They walked out. I could hear them swearing and muttering. I took a deep breath. That was a close one. Too close. I’d been too slow. I was pissed at myself. I shouldn’t need help.
“Are you okay, Miss?”
“I’m fine. Thank you. Do you know those two?”
“I know they’re supposed to be out of Port Az and heading to cause trouble somewhere else. That’s what I know.”
“Are you here to buy or sell?”
I tried to regain some sort of cool. I was supposed to oversee the store! Instead I needed a rescue.
The man paused before answering.
“Buy. I need a present. Gold, I think. You could maybe put the shotgun away while I shop?”
I had trained my sights on him, almost by instinct.
“I’ll lower it. That’s the best I can offer.” He looked me in the eyes. His eyes were dark. One corner of his full lips curled up just slightly. It was almost a smile. This man, a biker I suppose, had sexy on lock. I swallowed hard. I had no experience with sexy.
“I guess I’ll take my chances. My name’s Bo. Just so you know, in case you accidentally shoot me.”
“It won’t be an accident, Bo.”
I was still on edge, majorly, from the last few minutes. This man might very well be the sexiest person I’d ever seen. But I wasn’t an idiot.
“Got it. I’d like to look at gold chains.”
“Men’s or Women’s?”
“Women’s.”
Why was I disappointed to hear that answer?
“Got it. Thank you for helping me get those guys out of here… if you look to the right of you, there’s a selection of gold jewelry. I’m sure you can find something nice for your girlfriend at any price point.”
“It’s for my Mama. And you’re welcome. What’s your name?”
“Lyric.”
“Like from a song?”
“That’s right, my mama says daddy was as songwriter. I never met him though.”
Why was I sharing this information?
“Unique name for a unique girl.”
Something inside my chest fluttered. His looks, and his tough demeanor was a potent combination.
I lowered my shotgun and put it back in the holder under the counter. Bo unnerved me but I didn’t feel threatened like I had just a few minutes ago. Papus had trained me to handle this shop and to sell. I was good at it. I reverted to that training now in the wake of whatever the hell had just happened.
“Okay, let me pull out the tray. You can get a closer look.”
I put the velvet lined tray on the counter and Bo looked at the dozen fine gold chains we had on display.
“This one looks like Mama Bear.”
That must be his name for his mom. He pointed to the 18-inch gold chain with the finely twisted pattern.
I gently lifted it off the tray and displayed it on the back of my hand. I felt his eyes on me and it made me feel self-conscious.
“This is an 18-karat, 18-inch. It will look nice on your mom, I’m sure.”
Bo’s fingers brushed the back of my hand as he took the chain from me. His touch charged me up. It startled me even as I tried to stay tough.
“I’m not good at this, picking out jewelry, you know?”
“Here? See?”
I put it up against my neck, like I’d done a million times for other customers. I should have thought that through because if Bo staring at my hand had charged me, him looking at my neck and chest had me nearly jumping out of my own skin.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“Yes, it is a beautiful little necklace.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I was certain that my cheeks were bright red at this point. I didn’t have much experience, not even dealing with high school boys. This was no boy. This was a muscle-bound, leather-clad, biker.
“Uh, well, it’s $150 dollars. We take cash, credit cards, but no checks.”
I tried to be all business. My Papus said I was a gypsy queen, dammit. I was feeling like the queen of dorks right now. If it was flirting Bo wanted he’d be disappointed. I sucked at it.
Bo put his hand in this back pocket. It was my turn to stare at him. His jeans were slung low and skimmed his hips. I was having thoughts that I had no idea what to do with.
“Here you go, Lyric.” He put cash in my hand. I took it and busied myself with the register.
“Thanks for doing business with Wilde Pawn.”
“You’re welcome, Lyric.” Bo’s eyes seemed to be suggesting way more than his words. He shook his head a little and that small smile in the corner of his mouth showed up again.
Then he turned and walked out of the store.
I found myself staring at him as he left. I then spent a full minute staring into space after that.
For eighteen years I’d managed to keep my head on straight when it came to the opposite sex.
But that was before I met Bo.
I was flustered by a sexy biker with intense eyes. I shook it off.
Then I called the police.
2
Bo
* * *
Her hair had a life of its own. It curled around her head, bounced in a million directions, and framed a face so beautiful I knew I was staring. Shit.
Dougie and – what was his name? Arnie? I knew they were supposed to get the hell out of Port Az.
E.Z., the vice president of my MC, told me to be sure they did.
I had trailed them to the Wilde Pawn Shop. I didn’t expect to go in. I sure as hell didn’t expect to find the hottest thing on two legs holding tight to a shotgun either.
But once I got rid of Dougie and Arnie, I didn’t want to leave. So, I fucking bought a necklace.
Lyric was curvy, confident, and wasn’t at all like the chicks that hung out around The Dark Saints. As a result, Mama Bear was going to get a new necklace. Mama Bear wasn’t my actual mom but when I entered the club as a probie at aged 14, she was it, in the mom department. I wasn’t alone. She wrangled half-a-dozen of us back then. Hell, she deserved a necklace. She deserved a medal. Well, she had those, from Iraq. If they gave them out for dealing with rowdy boys, she’d have those too.
I walked into the clubhouse, the jewelry tucked away for Christmas, and headed to the bar.
“Beer.”
Walt poured me one from the tap. I couldn’t stop thinking about that Lyric. The way she handled herself was impressive. I would like to rip the heads off of Dougie and Arnie for scaring her. I also wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t been following them at E.Z.’s request.
She’d have probably blown them both out of the store with that gun. She wasn’t timid, that was for sure.