by Colbie Kay
Table of Contents
Returning Home
Copyright
Dedication
Playlist
More From Colbie Kay
Returning Home
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
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Acknowledgments
About Colbie Kay
Returning Home
Colbie Kay
Copyright
Colbie Kay Copyright 2017©
Amazon Edition
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Tracie Douglas-Rabas of Dark Water Covers
Editing & Formatting by E&F Indie Services
Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18+.
Dedication
For my readers.
Playlist
Yours by Russell Dickerson
Saving Amy by Brantley Gilbert
Everything in Between by Michael Ray
Skinny Love by Birdy
Wet by Polow, Da Don, and Bando Jones
Hey Hey, My My by Battleme
Craving You by Thomas Rhett and Maren Morris
Home by Nickleback
Bother by Stone Sour
Running To The Edge Of The World by Marilyn Manson
Flatliner by Cole Swindel featuring Dierks Bentley
Body Like A Back Road by Sam Hunt
You Look Good by Lady Antebellum
Think A Little Less by Michael Ray
Take Me Home by Jess Glynne
Every Little Thing by Carly Pearce
Small Town Boy by Dustin Lynch
Bodies by Drowning Pool
More From Colbie Kay
Satan’s Sinners M.C. Series
City Lights
Quiet Country
Night Sky
Returning Home
Coming Soon - Changing Lanes
The Betrayed (A Rocker Series)
Novella Saving Grace
Book #1 Saving Dawson
Book #2 Surviving Colton
Coming Soon - Freeing Elijah
Twisted Series
Coming Soon - Beautifully Twisted
Cobras M.C. Series
Coming Soon - Double Crossed
If you would like to follow Colbie Kay this is where you can find her:
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorcolbiekay
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/author/show/13543356.Colbie_Kay
Returning Home
Prologue
I ghost my hand along the cherry-red and black custom paint job on my 2000 Heritage. Man, I’ve missed the shit outta my Harley. She’s a beauty, too; the chrome shines like I haven’t been away for the past three years. My brothers did good taking care of her; no doubt the prospects washed her up if there was even a hint of dust showing. I look around the garage on the compound, taking in how good it feels to be back home.
Bear’s tools line one side of the garage walls; several bikes are parked inside, waiting to be worked on, and the stand-up stereo system that usually blares rock music sits along the back side. I walk over to the work bench, pick up a wrench, and twirl it around in my hand before putting it back down. My finger traces over the vice president patch on the right side of my leather cut. The stench of oil and gasoline is strong, but I’m so fuckin’ happy to smell it again. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply and think back to that night.
Bear is the last to come out of the warehouse; he looks around at all of us. “Dodger’s down.” He frantically searches around our group before asking, “Where’s Snake?”
When no one answers, his tone rises. “Where the fuck is Snake?”
Bones, President of our Tulsa Chapter, answers, “We don’t know; we haven’t seen him.”
“Did you guys look for him?” Bear’s anger intensifies by the second. I know exactly what he’s thinking—Lil Mama will kill him if something happens to her father.
Bones replies once again. “No, we were waiting for everybody to get out before we started looking.”
Bear doesn’t hesitate. “I’m gonna go get Snake. Someone needs to go get Dodger.” He turns and high-tails it back inside the warehouse, not caring whether any of the Italians were left alive or not. He’s my brother, what choice do I have? I follow right behind him, my pistol in hand.
When we get to the open room, Bear drops to his knees and I kneel beside him. He looks at me and says, “We gotta call an ambulance.”
Staring my brother in the eye, I know I’m about to take a risk, but I have no choice. He can’t be caught here. “No, you need to get out of here. I’ll call, then I’ll get out too, before they come.”
Shaking his head, Bear replies, “No, I have to make sure he’s okay. Lil Mama will hate me if I don’t.”
Putting my hand on his shoulder, I try to make him see reason. “Bear, listen. When I call the ambulance, the police are gonna come. You have Lil Mama and Cub, and you need to be with them. Let me call and you can meet them at the hospital.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’re wasting time, now go!” I wait five minutes so I know they’ll be getting close to the bikes if they make a run for them.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the phone operator asks while I hold the cell up to my ear and stare down at Snake, lying in a pool of his own blood.
“I was passing by an old warehouse a few miles outside of the city and heard gunshots.” I try my best to sound like a concerned citizen.
“Do you know the address, sir?”
“No. I just know it’s a few miles outside of the city. Someone might be hurt, so you might want to hurry.” Quickly hanging up, I run outside, and when I get closer to my bike, I throw down my cell phone and stomp it to pieces. Once I kick it into the high grass, I jump on my Harley and take off.
I watch as police cruisers rush by me, but the next thing I know, red and blues are flashing behind me.
Fuck!
Pulling over on the side of the road, I stay calm as I wait for the cop to walk up.
“Good Evening, sir. Driver’s license and registration.” Grabbing my wallet out of my back pocket and my registration out of my saddlebag, I hand them over.
“Mind telling me why you pulled me over?”
“No, I don’t know anything about any gunshots. I was just having a ride on this beautiful night.” I feign surprise in my tone.
His flashlight shines in my eyes, I blink from the brightness, then over my cut. “You wouldn’t have any objections to me searching your bike, would you?”
Double fuck! I wasn’t stupid tonight. My pistol stayed in my saddlebag; I used guns the others brought to shed the blood of those filthy cunts.
“Like I said, I’m just out riding. Why would you need to search my bike?”
“Let me put it another way. You either let me search your bike or you wait for the search warrant.” I wish he would get that light out of my fuckin’ eyes!
“Guess I don’t have a choice.”
When I stand to the side of my Harley, he pats me down first, but finds nothing. The first saddlebag is clear, but he finds my pistol in the second one. “You have a permit for this?”
“Nope.”
“It looks like I need to bring you in for more questioning.”
My bike is stranded as he leads me to the back of his cop car. We head the rest of the way into Wichita and then we get to the police station. By this time he’s called me in, he knows about my previous record, and when he pulls me out I’m read my Miranda rights and arrested.
They tried questioning me, but I quickly said I wanted my attorney. They let me make the call and when he showed up, I made sure he notified my mom and told her about my bike. She took it from there, calling the club to let them know.
Three years in the state penitentiary for your club ain’t shit, but it gets real fuckin’ lonely when you don’t have anybody comin’ to see you on visitation days. My mom would make it once every couple months, but that’s about it. When shit went down, my club brothers were advised by my lawyer not to have any contact with me, in case the detectives tried to bring them down as well.
I wouldn’t want that for my brothers, especially since some have met their Ol’ Ladies and began having kids. They did what they had to and stayed away, but they never forgot about me, and my mom let it be known that money was dropped off to her monthly so she could add it to my account at the prison. There was one constant in those three years, the letters I received once a week, every week like clockwork.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of her voice. “What’cha doin’?” Turning towards the open door of the garage, my smile broadens at the sight of Chatty. She leans against the doorframe, wearing her black leather pants, black riding boots, and a red and black Sinner’s tank, looking like a goddess with a beer in each hand.
I didn’t recognize her at first when Hanger and I started walking up to the clubhouse because her hair isn’t red anymore—it’s blonde, and sexy as hell on her. She wasn’t dressed like she is now either; earlier when I arrived, she had on a regular t-shirt and a pair of shorts that made her legs look a mile long and fuckin’ fantastic. Every other detail about her is exactly the same: those ice blue eyes, plump lips, sun-kissed skin, those D tits that my mouth begs to suck on, those thick hips I could…
“Gunner?” Chatty cuts me off before I start torturing myself too much with thoughts of what I could do to her. Thoughts of what I would like to do to her. Didn’t stop my cock from tightening against my jeans, making them fuckin’ uncomfortable as the zipper presses into my erection. Three years is a long fuckin’ time without some pussy! It’s never the same with a hand—no matter which way you turn it, it’s still a hand instead of a juicy, wet cunt.
“Yeah?” Finally able to have enough sense to reply, I walk towards her.
“I brought you this.” She holds one of the beers out to me.
“Thanks.” Taking a long pull from the ice-cold bottle, I keep my eyes on her.
“I asked what you were doing.” She comes further into the garage and looks around, much like I did. It’s the first time she’s been back in three years, too.
She left not long before I got locked up because she couldn’t be here anymore. Her husband, Ripper, got killed right outside the clubhouse when the Italians ambushed us and shot up the compound. It was hard on all of us when he died, but Chatty went into a deep, dark depression there for a while. No one, not even Crazy Girl, Hanger’s wife and Chatty’s best friend, could pull her out. So she made the decision to move to where her family lives in Arizona and piece her life back together.
That’s why my situation is so fuckin’ hard. We all loved Ripper; he was one of the best brothers in this club, and so fuckin’ loyal to the Sinners and to Chatty. She was his wife, his Ol’ Lady, and he treated her like a goddamn queen. Problem is, I want my dead brother’s wife. In fact, I’ve wanted her for a long ass time. I’ve wanted her since the day he walked her through the clubhouse doors eight years ago. I never let it be known—I never overstepped my boundaries—but he’s gone now, and time has moved on. Maybe us both returning home is a sign it’s my chance. Hell, I don’t even know if she thinks of me in that sorta way, but I’d like to find out.
Finally answering her question, I tell her, “Lookin’ around. It’s funny. Not much has changed, yet so much has at the same time.” My blue eyes meet hers. “Didn’t know you were comin’ back.”
Her eyes move around the garage as she takes it all in. “Yeah, I had to get my cousin away from Arizona. I needed Tinsley protected, so I brought her here. I know she’ll be safe.” Chatty takes a drink of her beer before bringing her eyes back to me. “I know what you mean about being the same, yet different. New Prospects, new members, marriages, and babies. But…the bar’s the same as I left it—Crazy Girl took care of it for me like I knew she would. Out here’s the same as it’s always been, except for a few new bikes.”
Chatty hangs her head and watches her boot kick at something invisible as she continues, “The room’s the same. When I picked up and left, I didn’t take any of Ripper’s things. I left everything, and it’s still there.” She points at the back wall beside the stereo system and adds, “That’s his bike.”
“I know.” Putting my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close to me and kiss the top of her head. “What’s goin’ on inside?”
“Crazy Girl and her drinking games.” Chatty laughs and it’s a magical fuckin’ feeling I get when I hear that bell-like sound. “Hanger’s gonna have his hands full later.” And that is how Zoey got her name Crazy Girl.
Laughing, I ask, “You remember the night she got her name?”
Chatty laughs with me. “That girl thought she could outdrink some of the guys by playing sixes.”
I add, “She loved playing that game, but she’s the one that ended up shit-faced, puking everywhere in front of everybody.” We both laugh harder.
Chatty bumps my shoulder with hers and finishes, “Hanger called her crazy girl; she gained everyone’s respect that night.” That’s true—and the name stuck with the rest of us, so that’s what she’s been called ever since.
“He always has his hands full with that woman, unless he knocks her up.” I smile as she laughs. If Hanger could, he’d have that poor girl constantly pregnant, but Crazy Girl isn’t gonna go for that. “Hey, you wanna go for a ride?” I can’t wait to start Cherry up, feel that vibration under me, and have her out on the road with the wind blaring against me. True freedom!
“I don’t know, Gunner.” Chatty looks uncertain as she glances between my bike and me.
“It’s just a ride.”
“I haven’t been on the back of a bike since Ripper.” I can tell by that longing expression that she misses the hell out of it.
Grabbing her hand, I lead he
r over to my Heritage and pull the helmet off the right handle bar. “You miss it, I can tell.” Chatty takes the helmet, pushes it down on her head, and fixes the strap so it’s secure.
She straddles my bike and I stand there for a second, staring. I’ve never had a woman on the back of my bike—that spot’s always been reserved for my Ol’ Lady, if I get one—but Chatty on the back is a sight of perfection. Fuck, I think to myself. Ignoring my once again rising cock, I put one leg over my bike, grab the handlebars, sit her up straight, and turn the key that was waiting for me in the ignition. The Heritage that I like to call Cherry rumbles to life loudly. Chatty wraps her arms around my waist tightly as I sit, and it’s a real good feeling, havin’ her arms around me. We pull out of the garage and hit the open road.
*****
An hour later, we return to the compound, where the prospect tending the gate lets us through, I pull the bike back into the garage and park in the same place it was before we left. Climbing off first, I hold my hand out to help Chatty as she removes my helmet. “Glad to see Cherry rides just as good as the day I left her.” Hittin’ full throttle, having that much power again, feels pretty damn fantastic.
“You named your bike Cherry?” Chatty laughs as she takes my outstretched hand and climbs off the Heritage.
“Sure, I did! She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved besides the one that gave birth to me.” Smiling, I pat the gas tank. “C’mon. Let’s get inside.”
Chatty follows close to my side as we head up to the clubhouse. “I missed riding more than I thought.” Her smile is evidence that it’s a true statement.