by London Casey
Welcome to world of BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB
~
A romance novel by London Casey
London Casey is the pen name for bestselling romance author Karolyn James
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OWNED & UNTAMED
A Back Down Devil MC Novel
I left her once to go to war… now I’m dragging her into one.
**
After an ambush costs the club tens of thousands of dollars and puts us at odds with an old enemy, we’re thrown into a battle we’re not equipped to handle. The last thing I need is a drunken phone call from an old flame begging me to help her. But I can never say no a beautiful woman in need.
Belle was the only woman I ever loved, and her brother – Jim – was my best friend. We grew up together, went to war together…almost died together. But when we came home, Jim gave up on life. Now I’m the only one I can save him.
Problem is, Jim’s been making deals with our enemies. That puts him, me and Belle in everyone’s sights. The only way I can protect her is keep her close, but by keeping her close means going right back to where we left off.
Love is a dangerous game and I’m the kind of guy that doesn’t play by the rules. Even if it costs me my leather cut… and my life.
one.
(duke)
Some days it was great to be a fucking outlaw. To ride a road that never ended with a freedom that was more pure than the sweet smell of a virgin and a responsibility that was greater than the one that kept the sun rising and lowering with each passing day.
Other days… I felt like I was back in the desert, chasing down fucking ghosts, waiting to step on the wrong spot and get blown to fucking pieces. That was my old reality and sometimes right at home it was the same goddamn thing.
When I felt the surprise bullet graze my right leg it took all my force and might not to pull the motorcycle and drop it. I gripped the handlebars tighter and throttled harder, gaining more speed. Trent was riding next to me. In front us was the Prez, Trev. His old lady was like a balloon ready to pop with their first child. My survival instincts kicked in, along with the deep seeded urge to protect my brothers, just like I had done in another country.
I grabbed my gun and pointed at Trent. I waved forward, telling him where the bullet came from. We were on a long stretch of desolate interstate, nobody else in sight. Or so we thought. So someone was trying to take out Back Down Devil MC. There was a long list of people that wanted all of us dead. Shit, there was probably an even longer list that wanted me dead personally. I couldn’t go back and think about all the people I had fucked over in my life. Hey, freedom came with a steep price. I may have left that desert intact physically but that was about it.
I sped up and got right next to Trev. The key now was to protect the Prez. I cut to the left and Trev had to get out of my way. I heard him bellow something at me. He didn’t know I was saving his fucking ass. Last thing I needed was a grieving widow holding a newborn over his casket.
Trust me, I’d been there before in life… many times.
Trent shot forward and got between me and Trev. I pointed to the left and screamed for Trent to take Prez off the road. When Trent moved, Trev fucking listened. I heard another bullet zing right by me. I thought it had tagged my leather cut. All I could do was wait for the moment a bullet finally got me and ripped me to pieces. Halfway across the world we’d just fight back. When you couldn’t see the bullets coming the panic trigger finger would set in. Nothing wrong with that though. It was the only way to hedge your way into surviving any kind of an attack.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I started to shoot.
I emptied my clip and then I pulled over to the side of the road.
Inside the leather bag on the back of my ride was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. We had helped out our old Russian friends with a little run down to Tijuana and now it was time to deliver the money and take our cut. So between keeping Trev alive and keeping the cash safe, my hands were more than fucking full.
I turned my ride sideways and grabbed the bag of cash. I put it next to my back wheel. I reloaded my weapon and got up on my knees. I didn’t have the necessary gear to see in the fucking dark so I just stared out at the darkness. But I knew someone was there.
I heard movement from behind me and turned to see Trev and Trent coming forward.
“What the fuck is going on?” Trev growled.
A second later there was a barrage of gunfire. The booms echoed into the night.
My body tensed and my nerves started to shake. That fucking sound brought back some memories I wished could have been dead and gone for the rest of my life.
“There’s your answer, Prez,” I said.
I extended my right leg and turned it a little. I reached back and took out a small flashlight. I shined it on my leg and saw that my jeans were cut but the blood wasn’t that bad.
“Fuck, brother,” Trent said. “You got shot.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Who could this be?”
“Anyone,” Trev said. “Russian enemy. Our enemy. This road was supposed to be secured for us. Ivan is going to be fucking pissed.”
“This is his fucking fault,” Trent said. “We shouldn’t have agreed to run the money back.”
“Hey,” I said. “We can’t go back now. Only forward.”
“What’s our move, Duke?” Trev asked.
He was like the old Prez - that piece of shit called Ripper - the way he looked at me in a crisis to make a decision and fix it all. Just because I came from a military background. My answer was always the goddamn same.
“Stand up and fight,” I said.
“In the dark?” Trent asked. “I could give a shout to the clubhouse. Get Cash and Hudson up here in a truck with some heavy weapons.”
“No time,” Trev said.
“Call Ivan?”
“Fuck that,” I said. “We don’t show weakness.”
“Ivan won’t help,” Trev said. “He wants his cash and nothing else.”
“Even if it’s his fucking enemy?” Trent asked.
“I have an idea,” I said. “Get ready to shoot. They could be coming from any direction. But I have this…”
I held up the flashlight.
“What are you going to do with that?” Trent asked. “Tell scary stories?”
Yeah, me and Trent had a big love-hate thing going on for years now. His old lady tried to kill me. That’s a whole other story though.
“Asshole, watch,” I said.
I turned the flashlight back on and tossed it out to the road. It started to roll, shining its light in the direction of where the bullets were coming from. Guns started to go off again and I jumped up.
I saw the silhouette of a man rushing down the middle of the damn road. Trev and Trent stood up next to me and we all opened fire. The dumb prick had no idea what was about to hit him. He stumbled and fell forward, hitting the pavement hard.
I again had the sense of something behind me.
This time when I turned, it wasn’t one of my brothers in the club.
It was the enemy.
He swung his gun, cracking me against my jaw.
Not quite a knockout shot, but damn close enough.
**
I reached for th
e bag of cash with the darkness spinning around in my head. I heard the scuffle all around me. Trent took a step back and tripped over me and into my ride. He let out a slew of fucks as he crashed to the ground. That left Prez vulnerable. He was the most valuable person to attack or kidnap so I had to move fast.
I ripped open the bag of cash and tipped it, letting some of the piles fall out. A quick glance to my right allowed me to assess that there were two people standing there. One had a gun pointed right at Trev’s heart. The other was a couple feet back, probably making sure we didn’t have an ambush of our own.
“What the fuck do you want?” Trev asked.
I wasn’t going to let them talk. I didn’t do the negotiation part of war. To me, it was simple. It was basic survival. There’s one piece of meat left to eat and two men staring at it. Maybe the honest man would cut it in half. Not me. I’d kill for that last piece of meat.
Survival of the fittest? Fuck that.
It was about survival of the one who could pull the trigger first.
I lunged forward and hit the first guy in the gut. My grappling skills allowed me to pull him to the ground in seconds. He smashed his gun off the back of my skull a few times but I was in a power position and tore the gun out of his hand and tossed it aside. Two quick punches had the guy desperate to cover his face. Well, the fucker already had his face covered. He and the other guy were wearing black masks over their faces.
“Enough!” someone yelled.
Next thing I knew, I was kicking back and trying to get to my feet. The other guy had a gun out. So did Trent and Trev.
The cash was spread all over the side of the road.
It was a simple distraction and I wanted to see if that’s what these pricks were here for.
“Give us that fucking money,” the guy I had hit said.
They weren’t here for the money. This was our problem. Fuck.
“No,” Trent said.
The second guy pulled out a grenade. He pulled the pin and stood there defiantly.
“Do it,” I said. “Right now. Put that fucking thing down and see what happens.”
“Jesus Christ,” the first guy said.
“Drop your weapons,” the other guy said.
I looked at Trev and he nodded. I had to take my orders, even if I fucking hated doing it. We all put our weapons down and stood there. The first guy started to crawl toward the cash and I had to make my move. I swung my foot and kicked the guy in the face. I grabbed the bag of cash - or what was still in the bag - and I started to run.
The second guy threw the grenade. It went over my head and I heard it ping off the ground. My instinct kicked in again and I darted to the left. I dove forward to the side of road as it exploded.
Talk about bringing back some fucking memories.
My eardrums felt like they were being ripped out of my head. There was then a lingering buzzing sound, not quite like a ringing but a heavy buzzing. I remembered one time over in the desert there was a bomb that went off so loud I couldn’t hear for a few hours. Just looking around at the destruction without being able to have sound to the sight.
I got up to my knees and started to stand, the bag in my hand.
I felt someone touch my shoulder and I quickly threw an elbow, already deep in fight mode.
I spun, tossing the bag behind me. My fist started to lurch forward when I realized it was Trent. He had a hand out, his other hand covering his face where I had elbowed him.
Trev appeared a second later. “Stand down, Duke!”
The sound of motorcycles kicked up in the distance and quickly faded.
“Ah, shit,” Trent yelled. “What the fuck was that about?”
“Where’s the cash?” Trev asked.
“Behind me, Prez. I got it. I saved it.”
“Christ,” Trev said.
I pointed back to the road where one of the bodies lay. I grabbed the bag of cash again and we all ran to the guy we had shot. He was still face down, definitely long gone from this world. Trent rolled the guy to his back and crouched, ripping up the black mask.
“Motherfuckers,” Trent said.
“Who is it?” Trev asked.
I saw the ink on the guy’s neck.
“The Hell Five,” I said. “Shit.”
They were a ruthless gang made up of bangers, MC guys, and had ties that went deep into underground business. There were several levels of the Hell Five and these guys that had attacked us were part of the street crew. Mainly they were the ones we dealt with when they decided to start trouble. Chances were they wanted to make a statement to Back Down Devil MC and the cash was just something like a bonus.
“Fuck,” I said. “I thought Ivan had this all protected.”
“So did I,” Trev said. “Let’s move.”
“What about this guy?” Trent asked.
Trev took out his gun and unloaded an entire clip into him. He then looked at both of us. Goddamn, Prez could be wild when he wanted to be.
“Put him back on his ride,” Trev said. “Prop him up the best you can. Let that be a message to anyone who wants to ride through this goddamn town. I’m sure sirens will be out here soon enough with that goddamn grenade blast.”
I looked at Trent and he nodded to me.
This was supposed to be a simple run. Drop off some packages in Tijuana. Drink tequila - on Ivan’s tab. Have fun with some wild ladies - again, on Ivan’s tab. Then come back and deliver the cash.
Nothing was ever easy.
Trev stood in the middle of the road and stared back down into the heart of Daurian.
I grabbed the asshole’s legs from the Hell Five.
The shit part of it all?
The night was just beginning.
two.
(belle)
Maggie convinced me to go out and have a glass of wine. I had called to try and check in with Jim but he didn’t answer. I shot him a quick text and he replied with his standard K and that was it. The entire time I was at the restaurant I felt guilty for leaving him home like that. I knew it was no longer my job to try and protect my big brother. I knew he hated it because he had grown up defending my honor time and time again. But for me, I had given up everything in my life for him and my father. Now it was just me and Jim in the house and the place was nothing but haunted.
We didn’t need some ghost crew showing up to find out what was wrong in the house though. Being haunted came from memories. Memories from when Jim had two legs, a crew cut, and was clean shaven and ready to fight the world. Standing at the airport, watching him walk away, dressed in camo, that was hard. Seeing him with his best friend Duke made it a little bit easier, but that was only an excuse I used to convince myself and my father with. Because when Duke looked back that last time, it was a double shot to my heart.
Duke came back in one piece. Jim came back missing a leg.
At least they were both alive.
Even if I never really got to see them whole again.
That was a long time ago though when Jim came back injured. The years flew by, like they always seemed to do, and things never got any easier for him or me. I could never complain though because… well… how could I? I didn’t go overseas to fight a war that was beat up in the news almost on a daily basis. I didn’t have strangers who spoke a different language shooting at me. And I didn’t throw two men out of a truck, saving their lives, while I took the brunt of a roadside bomb that should have killed me but only took my leg. And I didn’t carry the guilt of not being able to throw out the third man in the truck, who tragically paid the ultimate price by giving his life in a foreign country.
I buried my complaints, doubts, and anger and pain deep inside myself. I promised myself that things would get better, but after Dad passed away, I knew that being okay was merely a dream that I would forever chase and never obtain.
After I finished a glass of wine, I called it a night with Maggie. I had to drive home and she the same. She ordered a second glass and I made it a point to sit t
here, talking, until I felt she was okay to head home. She’d been coming off a breakup that had been lingering for six months. The every other weekend drunk calls from her ex to hook up again were dumped on my lap to decipher and translate.
We left with a hug and I drove home, alone, cruising slowly through the country roads that I had always called home. Dad had been smart and wicked savvy with his finances. Mom died when I was ten and Jim was twelve. Dad never remarried and never really dated. He took everything he had and dumped it into the house and to buy all the land around the house. He told us that he and my mother dreamed of owning all the land and having me and Jim build houses on it. They had planned on having more kids but life took a bad left turn, something I guess everyone experiences once or twice in their lives.
Again, another reason I couldn’t complain. My bad left turn didn’t include surviving a war or surviving cancer. My brother survived the war, my mother did not survive the cancer.
Rocks popped under the tires of the car as I drove up the driveway.
I smiled for a second, remembering the time I tried to be sneaky and use the yard instead of the driveway to sneak out one night. I met up with Duke. He took me to the quarry on his motorcycle and we made out - and plenty more - for hours. The moon high in the sky, a billion stars our audience, a night where I felt youth could be shedding and my future looking a little clearer.
The next morning Dad called me out on it within a minute of me waking up.
I was shocked.
How did he know?
I skipped the driveway because of the noise but I failed to realize my tires would leave tracks in the grass.
Those were the easy days of life though. They seemed so hard then but they weren’t.
I got out of my car and walked to the house. It was a big house, one half of it all mine and the other half Jim’s. Dad purposely had the house remodeled to accommodate Jim. I knew Dad carried a lot of guilt, always being rough and tough with Jim, the macho ultra-testosterone thing that men did. So when Jim wanted to go into the military, Dad cheered him on. When he got the notice he was going overseas to fight, Dad was a little worried but proud of his son.
Then Jim got hurt…
I opened the door and called out, “Honey, I’m home!”