EMPTY SECRETS (A Back Down Devil MC Novella)

by Casey, London

  Welcome to world of BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB

  ~

  A romance novella by London Casey

  London Casey is the pen name for bestselling romance author Karolyn James

  Sign up for the official Karolyn James newsletter and you’ll never miss a new release!

  Sign up here - tinyurl.com/KJSignup

  Stay social with Karolyn James here…

  www.KarolynJames.wordpress.com

  On Twitter @KarolynWrites

  https://www.facebook.com/KarolynJamesAuthor

  EMPTY SECRETS

  A Back Down Devil MC Novella

  Jett is okay with wearing the Back Down Devil MC patch, fighting for the club’s honor, and staying clear of trouble and anything that resembles commitment. After a good ‘ole fashioned bar fight, the last thing Jett expects to find is a woman passed out on his motorcycle.

  Worse yet, she’s covered in blood.

  When Lena comes to and realizes where she is, her mind begins to scramble. The name of the game is survival. At all costs. She tells the sexy biker - Jett - that she can’t remember anything… but the more time she spends with Jett the closer she puts him and the MC in danger.

  With a target on her back, Lena has to make the biggest decision of her life… the question is - how many hearts will be broken? And who will make it out alive?

  one.

  No day was really that bad of a day unless you were killed, and if that happened, what the fuck did it matter? You were dead.

  Jett managed to take two deep drags on a cigarette before the waitress came running over to the table, loose strands of pretty black hair dancing around her, her face turning white, eyes big and innocent. Her body spoke other things though. Maybe she was innocent on the outside, but Jett could tell she was a fucking freak in the sack. She probably liked to bite, or be bitten, or some crazy shit like that.

  “Sir, you can’t smoke in here,” the waitress said.

  Her voice was high, squeaky, stuck between enjoying the conflict with a dirty biker like Jett and maybe fearing the fact that his leather cut read Back Down Devil MC.

  “I don’t see any No Smoking signs,” Jett said.

  “It’s the law,” the waitress said.

  “Sweet thing,” Blaine chimed in, “what’s your name?”

  “It’s got to be something good,” Jace added.

  Blaine and Jace were patched in members, but they were also table members. To Jett, it was all bullshit. A leather cut was a leather cut. And anyone at the table was at the mercy of Miller’s final decision. The closest to get to changing things was if Gaige put up a fight. But lately, there hadn’t time for that. Gaige had fallen in love, a bomb had gone off at the compound and almost took Erik’s life. Some nurse and Brody were hooking up, after something happened with drugs involving the hospital where Erik was getting released from soon.

  The world was round, the world spun around, and time kept going on. That’s how Jett got through everything. Time would move on. He could make a complete dick of himself right now in front of this pretty waitress, but not give a damn because there were a million other pretty waitresses to go after, if he wanted.

  Plus, there was a plan to all this.

  The waitress looked at Blaine. “I’m not telling you my name.”

  “That’s a little rude,” Jett said. He started to move the still lit cigarette to his lips.

  “You can’t do that!” the waitress yelled.

  Now people started to look at Jett and the table. He let out a laugh and slowly put the cigarette to his plate and put it out. “There you go, beautiful. Now tell me your name.”

  “Hey, Stacey, we’ll see you later,” a man said as he walked by the waitress. He gently patted her shoulder and smiled.

  “Thank you, Mr. G,” the waitress - Stacey - said.

  “Stacey,” Jett said. “Goddamn.”

  “That’s perfect,” Blaine said. “Hey, sweet thing, your hair is long enough for me to wrap it around my hand about ten times while I’m pulling. Get it? I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll loose that little squeak to your voice.”

  Stacey gasped and started to shake. “Get out of here.”

  I reached for Stacey’s wrist and gently touched it. I slowly stood up and towered over her. “We can’t do that. We need to talk to Angelo. That’s why we’re here. You know that, don’t you?”

  Stacey swallowed hard. “Are you gangsters? Or the mob?”

  “No,” Jett said. “We’re Back Down Devil. We make sure there’s no problems in Frelen.”

  “You’re too late,” Stacey said. “Papa has been getting death threats.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

  Jett looked back at the table. Jace gave a thumbs up. Blaine looked surprised. He put his hands to his chest and started to pinch his fingers together. That was Blaine. Everything was hardcore sex.

  It piqued Jett’s interest enough that he looked down and saw right down the top of Stacey’s shirt.

  No wonder the old men in town were fans of the chick.

  Jett reached forward and touched her white buttoned down shirt. He buttoned an extra button and looked at Stacey. “Don’t give it away. Just take me to Angelo.”

  “Are you going to hurt him?” Stacey asked.

  “I can’t say a thing, beautiful. I’m trying to be nice right now. But if you don’t take me to Angelo in two minutes I’m going to fucking take out my gun and really make some noise here.”

  “Okay.” Stacey turned and walked. Jace and Blaine followed Jett.

  The restaurant wasn’t exactly packed, but full enough that everyone there looked at the guys in Back Down Devil MC with concerning eyes. Everyone had a right to judge what they saw, but they didn’t know the true law and justice the MC brought to town.

  Jett reached down and grabbed a mozzarella stick from a little kid’s plate. He took one big bite, chewed it, and then spit it on the floor. Everything tasted like shit here. Probably all microwaved. He then saw a glass of either scotch or whiskey and grabbed that. Someone started to yell at him, but they stopped when they realized who it was. Jett took the drink - decent scotch - and then put the empty glass on another table.

  Stacey led the way into the kitchen. It was busting with the sizzle of the grill, the popping sound of the deep fryer, and the beeping of a microwave being ignored. People were shouting in Italian at each other, cooks and waitresses alike. The back of the restaurant should have fucking smelled great. Fresh food, right? Not here. This place smelled like a fog of grease and really bad diarrhea.

  Jett rubbed his nose and got up next to Stacey. “How do you fucking work here?”

  “Papa needs me,” she said. “He needs all of us. It’s hard. Hard times. Always.”

  “You need to do better for yourself, beautiful.”

  “I try. I swear. I try.” Her eyes welled up with tears again and she pointed to a door down a small corridor.

  “Thank you,” Jett said. “Now go serve your shitty food and keep that pretty smile on your face.”

  Stacey looked at him. “Have a smoke for me?”

  “You shouldn’t smoke. Bad for your health.”

  “You want something to suck on…” Blaine added.

  Stacey turned and slapped him in the face.

  “Careful,” Jace warned. “That won’t stop him.”

  Jett gave Stacey a smoke and put his hand to the small of her back. Damn, if he had enough time, she would have been something fun to play around with for a night or two. He could take her to the clubhouse on a Friday night as an innocent person and then have her leave Monday morning as a pleasured woman.<
br />
  Jett approached the door and made a fist and pounded on it.

  “What?” a voice bellowed deep.

  “Fuck this,” Jace said and pushed by Jett. “We’re not here to make fucking friends.”

  Jace opened the door and they all burst into the big, clean office. It was obviously the cleanest spot in the entire restaurant. A large man sat behind a desk with a remote in his hand, his face red and sweaty, looking shocked.

  “What the fuck is this?” he growled.

  Jett moved along the desk and looked at the TV screen. It was frozen in mid scene of two men and one woman. One guy was at the woman’s mouth, the other guy filling her up from behind.

  “He’s watching porn,” Jett said. “Fucking pig.”

  “Hey,” Blaine said. “I think I have this one. Is it called…”

  “Don’t touch him,” Jace said. “What if he fucking touched himself or something…”

  Jett backed up. “Okay, Angelo, let’s talk.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Read the cut,” Jett said. “You know who we are. We need to check your stockroom. Where do you get your seafood?”

  “All fresh,” Angelo said. He sat up and turned off the TV. He then took a towel off his desk and wiped his forehead.

  “Do you come in that?” Blaine asked. “Then throw it in the basket with the other towels for the restaurant?”

  “What’s the difference?” Angelo asked. “A man needs…”

  “I’m going to throw up,” Jace said.

  “Focus right now,” Jett growled. “I don’t have time for this shit. Angelo, take us to the stockroom. I need to check.”

  “It’s all fresh,” Angelo said. “What the fuck do you want? You running the docks now? Controlling everything?”

  “Maybe,” Jett said. “Stand up, make sure your little dick is tucked away, and take us to the stockroom.”

  Jett, Jace, and Blaine made a wall at the desk.

  “You’re scared to death,” Jett said. “And that waitress - Stacey…”

  “Fucking beautiful,” Blaine said. “Ever see her tits, Angelo?”

  “She’s my daughter!” Angelo bellowed and stood up. “You sick fuck.”

  “So you’ve seen…”

  “Blaine,” Jett snapped. “Fuck, man. Stop.” Jett looked at Angelo. “She cried twice, Angelo. I talked to her for two minutes. She cried twice, man. This is what you’ve given your daughter? You’re a real piece of shit.”

  “I work hard!” Angelo snapped. He slammed his hands on the desk. “I work and try.”

  “You fuck with other crews,” Jett said. “You get yourself in debts you can’t pay off. You fuck around. You love expensive pussy and cheap porn. And your food sucks. So stand up and take care of things right now. So I’ll say it one more time just because I’m nice and I feel for your daughter… take me to the stockroom or I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes.”

  “And then I’m going to put my cock between your daughter’s legs,” Blaine said.

  “And her ass,” Jace added.

  “Jesus Christ,” Angelo said. He grabbed at a gold cross chain. “Jesus Christ.”

  “No,” Jett said. “We’re not saviors. We’re the justice. Now fucking move, fat ass.”

  Angelo took them back into the kitchen area and through another little corridor. At the end of the hall was a heavy door. It was dirty and the handle looked slimy. Angelo opened it and they all worked their way inside.

  “Here,” Angelo said. “Now what?”

  “I’m going to look around,” Jett said.

  “You don’t need to. It’s all fresh. Right out of the ocean.”

  “Yeah?” Jett asked. He pointed to a box of salmon. “This says packed from Fairland, New Jersey.”

  “Fresh and packed,” Angelo said.

  Jett lost it. He grabbed Angelo by the shirt and swung him. The big man was a little hard to move, but when he got him swinging, gravity and momentum did its job. Jett threw Angelo into a rack of food. He crashed with a thud and let out a scream. Two containers of food fell from the shelves, one of them spilling open with chicken breasts hitting the floor and sliding across the floor.

  “You’re fucking scum,” Jett said.

  He then took the lead and started opening the containers of food, looking for drugs. It was pretty simple. With all the dealings with the bomb at the compound and some business guy snooping around after his daughter was killed at a fight, Miller worried that some of the other battles in the world were being left behind. The worst thing that could happen were drugs. Back Down Devil MC worked hard to keep all that shit out of Frelen. There were some mumblings about Coast Road MC and bringing in drugs with seafood. Angelo popped up on the radar because he was a piece of shit. A gambler, addicted to strippers, always making promises he couldn’t keep. The restaurant was flooded by debt and waiting to collapse. It only made sense he would be helping to move drugs around.

  “What are you doing?” Angelo asked as he tried to get to his feet.

  He then stepped on a chicken breast and slid on it. He went down hard on his ass with a bellowing cry.

  “Look at him,” Jace said. “He’s pathetic.”

  “Yeah,” Jett said. “These containers are clear.”

  “Tell me,” Angelo cried out. “What did I do?”

  Angelo tried to stand again and managed to get to his feet.

  Jett faced him. “Drugs. Got any?”

  “No. No, no, no. I never…”

  “Angelo, I find out you’re involved with anything like that… I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  “Okay,” Angelo said. “Never. I just have debts.”

  “And crappy food,” Jace said.

  “Yeah, man, my stomach…”

  Jace opened another container and screamed. “Holy Christ.”

  “What?” Jett asked.

  “Look at this. More chicken, man. And it’s green…”

  “I had chicken,” Blaine said.

  “You serve spoiled food?” Jett asked.

  “When you cook it,” Angelo said, “the bad stuff dies. It never goes bad…”

  Jett backed up. He looked at Blaine and saw his face turning white.

  “Oh man,” Blaine said. “No…”

  Before Jett could say another word, Blaine started to throw up. He launched his food right at Angelo, hitting him in the legs and covering his feet and the raw chicken on the floor.

  Jett reached for the door and opened it.

  Blaine let out a growling sound and threw up a little more.

  “It looks better now than it did when Stacey brought it from the kitchen,” Jace said.

  Jett laughed.

  Blaine grabbed his stomach and dry heaved. “Fuck you, man.”

  “I think we’re done here,” Jett said. He looked at Angelo. “Clean it up, Angelo. All of it. Next time we come back here… it won’t be nice. And it won’t be fucking puke on your clothes either.”

  Jett left the fridge area and spotted Stacey. She looked at him and smiled. He gave a nod. Part of him still thought about running right through her. He imagined her tight and wild.

  “That was fucking gross,” Jace said.

  “Yeah,” Jett said. “I’m out of here.”

  “Where to?” Jett asked.

  Blaine cut between them and put his arms around them. “Let’s go get a fucking drink.”

  “Before that, you need a breath mint,” Jett said.

  He looked for Stacey again, but she was gone.

  Fuck, what a crazy day.

  But at least I’m alive…

  two.

  Drinking at the clubhouse had its own appeal. It was a lot like drinking with business partners or something. Always waiting for someone to talk about a deal, a war, a fight, a gun, something. Miller and Gaige had given Jett a key to a room at the clubhouse, but he had yet to use it. He was close enough just by wearing the goddamn patch and pulling the trigger on his gun when needed. Not that he di
dn’t love the guys or anything, but sometimes it was nice to be at a bar outside the clubhouse.

  Blaine and Jace were shooting pool against two guys, four women looking on. They were betting fifty bucks a game, but Jett knew that the women were the real prize. For Jett, he just sat at the bar, beer and whiskey in hand, listening to a rambling broadcast of a fucking hockey game. He didn’t give a shit about sports. Or anything for that matter. Jett had grown up rough and tough, his mother kidnapped and murdered when he was just seven years old. And it always seemed on those sevens bad shit happened. On his seventeenth birthday, he was on the streets, living alone, and found out that his father was the one who kidnapped and killed his mother. That began a long quest to find his father and all the backdoor dealings of organized crime that had been going on around Jett.

  During a drunken stupor at twenty, Jett actually got into a fist fight with Miller. From what Jett could remember about that night, he did get Miller with a few really good shots to the face, but Miller was sober and his sober fists prevailed. When Jett woke the following morning, there was a note literally pinned to his stomach.

  Nice fight. Let’s talk.

  He met up with Miller and that began his life with Back Down Devil MC.

  “Can I get you another one?” the bartender asked.

  Jett gave a nod. “Sure thing.”

  The bartender was cute as anything. Tall, skinny, a beautiful chest. Hair pulled back tight and a little butterfly tattoo on her left wrist. Something about that little tattoo drove Jett wild.

  Fuck.

  It had been a month since he last had a decent fuck. It was with someone he thought to be a girlfriend. But Ada wasn’t quite that. She was a stripper whore who loved cock and coke. She ended up getting killed ten miles south of Frelen. There was an open murder investigation, but something about it all just bothered the shit out of Jett.

  With a fresh beer in front of him, the cute as hell bartender lingered. “Why aren’t you playing pool with your friends?”

  “Because I have something better to look at right here,” Jett said.

  “Hanging around until closing?” she asked.

  “Two in the morning? Beautiful, that’s when I start living. I rise when the sun sets and watch the sun rise every morning.”

  “I’d like to watch a sunrise with you.”