Kaden (Knights Corruption MC Series-Next Generation Book 1)

by S. Nelson

  Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Want More?

  Stay Informed

  Also Available

  About the Author

  Note to Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Books by S. Nelson

  Copyright © 2020 S. Nelson

  Editor- Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design – CT Cover Creations

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the publisher’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Kaden/ S.Nelson. -- 1st edition

  To all my readers who wanted more of the Knights Corruption.

  Prologue

  Growing up, the men in my life were annoyingly present to chase away the simplest of appreciative glances from any random boy. What they didn’t realize was that I was in love with one of our own, and had been for as long as I could remember.

  Kaden Marek was the boy who set my heart on fire. Although when I was younger, I hadn’t realized the feeling swirling around inside me was love. I chalked up my desire to be near him to nothing more than us being best friends. And best friends want to spend all their time together, right?

  Things slowly changed when we were ten. At first, Kaden would break our plans to hang out with his buddies, telling me I couldn’t go because girls weren’t allowed. Then the excuses switched to those of not wanting his friends around me. I thought he was embarrassed of me, but as it turned out, there were other motives for him leaving me behind, reasons I didn’t understand until we were older.

  My feelings switched for Kaden, or rather, came to light, when we were twelve. I caught him kissing Jenny Kishall behind the 7-Eleven and I cried all the way home; the sight of them locking lips unleashing a mixture of jealousy and devastation.

  For the following month, I avoided him at all costs, but eventually, I concluded the only reason I’d been upset in the first place was because I hadn’t kissed anyone yet.

  We went back to our normal routine and he was none the wiser.

  Until the day of my fourteenth birthday.

  Kaden caught me crying behind my house. When he asked me why I was upset, I told him that Brad Killian never showed up to my party. When he looked at me funny, not understanding, I informed him that Brad was gonna be my first kiss. As soon as my confession left my mouth, Kaden’s blue eyes darkened right before he hauled me to my feet.

  “He’s not good enough for you, Ry,” he’d said, using the nickname he’d given me when we were little. “No one is good enough for you.” Then without any warning, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine… and I forgot how to breathe.

  Everything that happened between us since that day shaped the way we saw the world and us in it. But keeping our relationship a secret for fear of what my dad would do took its toll.

  Everything came crumbling down around us.

  We never stood a chance.

  1

  “Come on. He’s cute, funny, and rich. What else are you looking for in a guy?” Chelsea swept up the remaining strands of hair on the floor by her station, her attention bouncing between me and the progress of her cleanup, not so patiently waiting for me to give yet another excuse as to why I didn’t want to spend a night out with a complete stranger.

  My best friend had been trying to set me up with all sorts of guys over the past six months, claiming that my lady bits were gonna dry up, never to be used again, unless I got out there. Problem was, I didn’t want to get out there. I was fully content to work, hang out with my friends and family, and sleep.

  “What’s his name again?” I asked, even though I’d already decided against going out with him. She’d only met the guy once, for like two minutes at a party she went to last weekend. She’d invited me along, but I’d fulfilled my quota of Chelsea time. While I loved her like a sister, and thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with her, parties with a throng of people I didn’t know wasn’t my thing.

  “Chaz.”

  “Chaz?” I scrunched my nose. “I think I’ll pass.” No way in hell was I goin’ out with a guy named Chaz. Apologies to all guys with the same name, but douchebag was the first thought in my head.

  “I can find out if he’s good in bed if you want. If you’re on the fence.” She laughed when I rolled my eyes.

  “And how would you go about finding that out?” She opened her mouth to tell me, but I raised my hand. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

  “Are you sure? ’Cause he looks like he’d be an amazing fuck.”

  “I don’t think you can tell that by just looking at someone.”

  “I have great sexdar,” she retorted, grinning like a fool.

  “Is that like a gaydar?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m not even gonna argue with you.”

  “Good. Because you’d lose.” She disappeared into the back room, essentially ending our little back-and-forth.

  I reached into the box containing the hair color I was restocking too quickly and sliced my finger on the thick cardboard, right in the crease. “Shit!” I snatched my hand back and sucked on the affected area, the jolt of stinging pain lessening with the pressure I applied.

  “You okay?” Chelsea asked, flying around the corner to see what happened. I hadn’t realized I yelled loud enough for her to hear.

  “I’ll survive,” I mumbled, my lips still wrapped around the tip of my finger. I swore paper cuts were the worst.

  Many times, I wished I inherited my dad’s condition, his inability to feel physical pain a godsend, or so I thought. My mom didn’t always agree, however, insisting he get regular checkups because he never knew if there was anything wrong.

  My brothers, Lincoln and Zander, and I had heard stories over the years, albeit shortened versions of the events, and had seen the evidence of my dad’s reckless days early in the club splattered all over his body. He’d been stabbed and shot, once even by my uncle Trigger. Apparently, Dad had “claimed” my mom, as he liked to say, which went against the code of the club. Yo
u never mess around with someone’s family. But thankfully he had, otherwise my two brothers and I wouldn’t be here.

  Once the box was empty, I tossed it in the corner, not wanting to break it down. One cut was enough for today.

  After adding several items to the inventory list, I hit Save, and closed out the program. Finally, I was finished for the day.

  “You ready?” Chelsea asked, flicking a strand of her blonde hair away from her eye before tossing her purse over her shoulder.

  We were the last two at Transform, the hair salon where we had worked for the past two years—me one month longer than her. Braylen had bought the place from her friend Sia years back, right before she moved to Vegas to be closer to her mother who had been ill at the time. Her mother had subsequently passed away, but Sia remained in Vegas, opening a salon there, and from what I heard, was doing well for herself. Reece was Braylen’s partner, running the books and taking care of all the advertisement while Braylen oversaw the stylists, and was one herself. Both women were like family to me, their husbands a part of the Knights Corruption MC. My dad just so happened to be the vice president.

  Before I could respond to Chelsea, the bell above the door chimed. I turned to tell whoever entered that we were closing, but my stomach dropped when I saw a familiar pair of blue eyes.

  The person I’d been avoiding stood several feet from me. My lungs seized, as if he’d sucked up all available oxygen for himself. Kaden’s dark hair was longer than he typically wore it, hitting just above his collar, and the scruff on his face was at least a week old. Dressed in his usual attire of dark jeans, long shirt, and leather vest, he looked intimidating, but I knew the guy beneath the cut. Or at least, I had years ago.

  The guy I grew up with was carefree and funny, possessing the wit of someone twice his age. He was caring and sensitive, yet tough when he needed to be. We’d stayed up many a night talking about our dreams for the future and of all the places we wanted to travel to someday.

  Then after graduation, he became a prospect with the club. Our fathers’ club. And everything slowly started to change. To be more specific, he changed, became hardened, almost as if he had to prove himself worthy, something he denied whenever I asked him. We both grew up with the club, but the older we got, the more he wanted to ingrain himself in that life. His mother, Sully, wanted him to go to college and get a degree, but the moment his dad, Marek, the president of the KCMC, told him he would back him as a prospect, getting patched in was Kaden’s only goal. One he accomplished three years ago.

  Once upon a time, I was the most important thing in his life, then the club became his whole world, leaving me in the dust without a second thought. At least, that’s the way it seemed to me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, hating I had to talk to him at all.

  “We’re on our way to Linc’s fight, and Ace wanted to see if Chelsea was interested in going.” The gravel in his voice used to turn me on, but the only thing that happened when I heard him speak now was the flipping of my stomach. For the past few years, I’d managed to convince myself that whatever I’d felt toward him was fabricated, concocted from inexperience and overactive hormones. And I’d be damned if his very presence was gonna threaten to tear apart my carefully orchestrated armor.

  “Hell yeah, I wanna go.” She sauntered toward Ace, another member of the club, and stood too close for someone claiming to not really know the guy. The way he watched her said a lot, but it was the way he smiled at her when she looked up at him that screamed there was more to their relationship than my bestie was letting on. Not that I could blame her. The man was sexy as hell, and his appeal didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was tall, broad-shouldered, had a chiseled jaw, and a faint dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Those characteristics didn’t hurt one bit, but there was a cocky confidence he exuded that amped up his appeal. I didn’t lust after him, but I could see why Chelsea did.

  I had my suspicions about them, but if she didn’t want to divulge anything just yet, I wouldn’t push her. Besides, it wasn’t like I shared any of my secrets with her about Kaden. In fact, no one knew that Kaden and I had any sort of relationship in the past, or about what eventually drove us apart. Correction, no one other than my uncle Trigger knew. He’d caught us fooling around years ago behind the clubhouse, and to this day, he’d kept his word and hadn’t told anyone. Otherwise, Kaden would’ve endured my dad’s wrath by now.

  Chelsea whipped around to face me, playing with a strand of her hair, the pink she colored underneath peeking through. “Come with us, Riley. It’ll be so much fun.” She took a step toward me when I shook my head. “You haven’t gone in so long. I’m sure he’d love to see you there, supporting him.”

  Linc was my younger brother by just over a year, turning twenty-one a few months ago. He was named after our dad, whose real name was Lincoln, and every time my mom called for my brother, my dad thought he was in trouble because she only used his real name when she was angry with him. So, they settled on calling my brother Linc to avoid the confusion. I, however, referred to him by both names, depending on my mood.

  “Nice try, but no amount of guilt is going to convince me that watching two guys fight in a cage is entertainment.” I loved my brother dearly, and we had a close relationship, but the last thing I wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of drunk people who got their rocks off witnessing violence, even if it was consensual.

  I’d only attended one of his fights. It was last year and only after Linc laid a massive guilt trip on me. After he’d won, which was always the case, I told him it was my one and only time, that I was proud of him for winning, but he’d never see me at another event again, and so far, I’d stuck to my guns.

  Chelsea opened her mouth to try again to convince me, but I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at her, to which she huffed, but nodded her understanding.

  “You wanna meet up afterward?” she asked.

  “Thanks, but no. I’m beat. Gonna go home and take it easy.” I didn’t want to, but I glanced over at Kaden after I spoke, cursing myself for not being stronger in my resolve to completely ignore him. I didn’t want his presence to affect me, but it did, even if only slightly.

  Oh, who was I kidding? Every time I saw him, I was a mess on the inside, but I could only hope my outward appearance screamed the opposite.

  His eyes met mine, but I was the first to look away. I wanted to scream and shout how life was unfair, that he shouldn’t have pushed me away like he did, that he should’ve kept every last fucking promise he made to me, but all I did was release a strangled breath and turn my back to him.

  I counted the seconds until the three of them left, desperately needing to be alone with my rampant thoughts and misguided emotions. After all these years, I should’ve moved on, chalked our love up to that of two young people experiencing first love and all that shit. Thing was, Kaden had been my best friend on top of everything else.

  The chime above the door allowed me to release some of the tension I’d been holding. I was finally alone to act, feel, and mumble whatever I wanted to myself without the fear of him hearing. Kaden used to laugh at me because he’d say there was no need for him to be a part of our conversation because I spoke for us both, rambling on whenever the need struck. Usually, those were the times when he’d upset me or annoyed the hell out of me, which had been often enough.

  “You’re okay,” I said. “You’re fine. He didn’t notice anything.” I fidgeted with the strap of my bra that had fallen off my shoulder.

  “What didn’t I notice?”

  I shrieked, turning to see him standing near the door. It was only afterward that I registered his question, one I pretended I didn’t hear.

  Doing what I did best, I deflected. “What are you still doing here?” I tried to sound indifferent, but the strain in my voice gave away my irritation.

  “Answer my question,” he said, taking a single step toward me, chipping away at my reserve.

  T
he last time we were alone was months ago, and just like then, I didn’t want to rehash old wounds, familiar emotions bubbling to the surface that should remain buried, for my own sanity.

  “Answer mine.”

  If Kaden knew anything about me, it was that I was frustratingly stubborn, a trait I’d inherited from both my parents, Stone and Addy Crosswell. They took the definition of the word to a whole other level. I’d only witnessed two serious arguments between them, both times resulting in my dad staying at the clubhouse for a few days until things calmed down. He loved my mom, fiercely, and sometimes that love mirrored jealousy, but she never let him get away with his antics. From what I’d overheard from some of the other guys, his brothers of the club, he’d mellowed out quite a bit since us kids were born.

  Although, to be fair, I think he just honed his crazy ways toward making sure I died alone. I was twenty-two and I still couldn’t mention a guy around him without him going off on some tirade.

  “You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” I griped, chewing on the corner of my lip in order to stop the barrage of words bubbling up my throat. My pulse quickened during the silence that ensued and becoming anxious was the last thing I wanted, but I refused to allow him to see me as anything but calm. Well, calm-ish.