by Jade Kuzma
ROCK:
A Bad Boy Biker Romance
(THE NEW DEVILS MC BOOK ONE)
by JADE KUZMA
Copyright © 2018 Jade Kuzma.
All rights reserved.
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. All persons appearing on the cover are models and being used for illustrative purposes only.
ROCK: A BAD BOY BIKER ROMANCE
(THE NEW DEVILS MC)
First edition. July 6, 2018
Copyright © 2018 Jade Kuzma.
Written by Jade Kuzma.
Jade Kuzma Romance
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Table of Contents
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
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Thank you!
The Black Reapers
Chapter 1
ROMAN
There was no shortage of places to go in the big city to have a good time. There were nightclubs where all the young people went to so they could act like the kings and queens they weren’t. There were lounges for the older folks who just wanted to relax, have a beer and a smoke, to get away from all of the shit they had to put up with in life. Then there were the dive bars where you got all of the winos who had nothing better to do with their money besides waste it before they met their maker.
Regardless of how different they were, they all had one thing in common: alcohol. It made the smartest men do the dumbest things. That meant there was always a reason to have someone like me around. It might not have seemed like it at the moment but I knew it was coming.
The bar I worked at wasn’t much on the eyes. The place was as fucking drab and dark as you could get. The lights were dim. Smoke filled the air.
There was some music playing from a busted jukebox off to the side but it didn’t do much for the atmosphere. Patrons were scattered around, just minding their own business while they drowned their sorrows. The people who were having conversations discussed which of them had it worse.
I leaned up against the wall near the entrance to the place and puffed on my cigarette.
“Yo! My man!”
I turned my head and saw some kid standing there. A quick glance told me that he wasn’t old enough. Some snot-nosed teen with a leather jacket two sizes too big for him and pants that sagged so low you wondered if he could afford a fucking belt.
“ID,” I said to him.
“I got it right here, boss!”
He reached into his pocket and handed it to me. He ran a finger through his messy brown hair while he let me examine the flimsy piece of plastic between my fingers. I knew it was fake just from looking at him. Feeling it only made it more obvious.
“Nice try,” I said.
I stuffed his ID in my pocket and took another long drag from my cig. His eyes widened as he tried to fake his surprise.
“What are you talking about? Are you gonna let me in or what?”
“How old are you?” I said. “How old are you really? Seventeen? Eighteen?”
“It says right there on my ID. I’m 22.”
“Listen, kid,” I sighed. “I know what it’s like being your age. It wasn’t that long ago for me. Do yourself a favor. Stop wasting your time in shitty dive bars and do something, anything, else.”
He clenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to try anything, considering I was twice his size.
“You gonna give me my ID back?”
He stuck his hand out defiantly.
“If you won’t do yourself a favor, I’ll do it for you.”
His brow furrowed with anger. It was comical the way he looked at me. He stomped out of the bar and headed outside, muttering to himself the entire time.
“Fucking asshole…”
I chuckled softly to myself then stepped out of the bar myself to get some fresh air.
The air was cool even though the city smelled as dirty as it always did. It was a peaceful night despite all of the sirens in the distance. There wasn’t much traffic. All of the more popular clubs were in another part of town.
I stood alone next to the entrance and finished the rest of my cig, stomping the butt out with my heel. A few seconds later, a woman stumbled out of the bar.
Her blond hair was mussed. Her makeup was a little smeared. One of the straps of her tight black dress kept falling off her shoulder. Her tits looked like they were about to spill out.
She took a step forward and her legs wobbled underneath her. Even if she wasn’t wearing heels, she still would’ve fell on her ass.
“Whoa!”
I moved forward just in time for her to reach out and grab my arm.
“You all right?” I said.
She looked up at me and blinked her eyes. The sly little grin forming on her face was enough to tell me she was really out of it.
“I’m good now,” she said.
She straightened up and pulled her strap back on her shoulder.
I stood there and couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“Are you sure?” I said.
“Yes… I’m sure.”
She started walking down the sidewalk. I kept an eye on her, wondering if she even had a place to go.
I was only hired to make sure that shit never happened in the bar but that didn’t stop me from staring at her. I shook the worst thoughts out of my head and finally looked away from her.
Of course, that’s when it fucking happened.
“Ahh!”
A sudden scream made me turned back to her. Out of nowhere, some punk had knocked her to the ground.
“Shit!”
I muttered to myself as I rushed over. The guy was too focused on trying to tear the purse from her that he didn’t see me coming. I wound up my right hand back as far as I could and leveled the motherfucker with a blow to the head.
He fell on his back and stopped moving.
“Hey. Are you all right?”
She looked up at me, some of her mascara running as she sobbed. The words were stuck in her throat.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Come on. You’re okay.”
I helped her back up to her feet. I looked her up and down but she didn’t appear to have any injuries. Considering what just happened, she didn’t look any worse off than when she just left the bar.
A police cruiser rolled up and a cop stepped out to examine the unconscious thug next to us. I just glanced at the cop and he already knew what had happened.
“All right,” he said as he woke the man up from his nap. “Time to go.”
The sloppy punk looked like he
didn’t know what was happening as he was cuffed and thrown into the backseat of the cruiser.
“Maybe it’s not such a good idea for me to be walking down the sidewalk by myself,” she sighed.
“Let’s get you a cab.”
I walked her back to the entrance of the bar where there was a taxi parked next to the curb. I opened the door for her but she stopped just before getting inside.
“What’s your name?” she said, obvious drunken intent in her eyes.
“Roman.”
“Roman. You know, it’s not safe for a woman. I could use some company…”
It’s been a long time…
I didn’t know her name. That didn’t matter though. A man had needs.
But she could barely hold her stare with me. After what just happened, she wasn’t thinking straight. It might’ve been a long time but she wasn’t the one. Not tonight.
“You stay safe,” I said.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. Then she reached forward and started digging it right into my arm.
“Call me. I’ll swallow every drop.”
She puckered her lips and gave me a wink before finally stepping into the cab. I watched it move down the road for a second then looked down at the number she had tattooed on my arm.
“Well, well, well… Look who it is.”
That voice.
I knew who it was. I knew it was him. Shit, I was hoping and praying it wasn’t him. But there was no mistaking it. I was so distracted by making sure that woman got in the cab that I didn’t even notice him parking right in front of the bar.
“Helping women into their cabs. Just a regular knight in shining armor.”
I slowly turned and saw the man sitting on his chopper. He had a half-smirk on his face as he leaned forward across the handlebars.
It’d been a long time since I’d seen him but nothing had changed. Not the clothes. Not the ride. Not the sound of his voice. Not the confidence in the way he carried himself.
“Roman Rock,” he said. “Aren’t you gonna say hello?”
“…How did you find me?”
“You’re an ex-convict on parole. It’s not like you can keep your whereabouts a secret.”
“It hasn’t even been a week.”
“I have my ways.”
He got up off of his seat and walked toward me. I stood my ground and stared at him. He kept smiling, waiting for me to do something.
Sebastian and I had known each other for years. After all the shit we’d been through, I knew that I couldn’t blow him off. No matter what happened, he was a friend. No, he was more than that. He was a brother.
I looked down and shook my head as I started chuckling to myself.
“What do you want, Seabass?” I said.
“What makes you think I want something? How do you know I just didn’t want to catch up with an old friend?”
“Because I know you.”
“…Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Yeah, you do.”
I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t just blow him off. I took my spot next to the entrance of the bar and leaned up against the wall with my arms crossed. Sebastian moved next to me and we both looked out onto the street.
“I’m disappointed,” he said. “You didn’t write. You didn’t call. No text message. No e-mail.”
“I think the telegram is still on the way.”
“I don’t think it is.”
I could feel his eyes on me as I kept staring off into the distance.
“Four years,” he said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like losing four years.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. I did my time…”
I looked back at him.
“…But it doesn’t look like things have changed.”
The leather vest with the patch of the MC emblazoned on it was a part of Sebastian. I always saw him with it. Not tonight though. Everything else about him was the same but the kutte was gone.
“I’m not wearing it,” he said. “I’ve still got it though. And I’m pretty sure you still have yours.”
“…I do. But that’s behind me. It’s behind everybody.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe,” I said with a laugh. “Why does it feel like we’re about to talk about club business right now?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked back at me, a confident smirk on his face as he nodded softly.
“Business,” he said “Just business.”
“All right,” I said. “Go ahead.”
“I’ve got something for us.”
“Us?”
“Just you and me. A small job.”
“I just did four years and I’m on parole. I don’t know if I like where this is going.”
“What’s the matter? You lost your balls, Rock?”
“I still got ‘em. I’m just using my brain a little more.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Sebastian reached forward and patted me on the shoulder. He knew better than to try and slick talk me, so all I could do was laugh in response.
“You got a job,” I said. “Just for the two of us. And what is this job? What are we taking? Who are we hitting? Who are we threatening?”
“No robbing. No killing. No beating people up. No, this is all perfectly legitimate.”
“Perfectly legitimate,” I scoffed. “Where were these opportunities before I got locked up?”
“I don’t know. But this is a hundred percent real. I can promise you that.”
Sebastian and I might have been through a lot of shit but it was still tough for me to trust him. He was being completely honest with me. That much I knew. The only problem was whether or not this idea, whatever the fuck it was, was a good one.
“What’s the job?” I said.
“I’ll tell you more about it when we get back to Ivory—”
“Oh, no…”
I put my finger up and shook my head.
“…Don’t gimme that shit, Seabass. You make me ride all the way back to Ivory and then you lay it on me. Next thing I know, we’re pulling a hit on a nursery.”
“It’s nothing like that,” he said, the grin growing even wider on his face.
“Then why the fuck do you want me to go back to Ivory?”
“Because it’s where you belong. It’s where we belong.”
That stupid smirk slowly disappeared from his face. No tricks. No jokes. The motherfucker was actually being sincere.
“You just got out of the joint,” he said. “Don’t you wanna go back home?”
“Home is the reason I got locked up in the first place.”
“It’s still home. Look at this place…”
He held his hands out and pointed at all of the buildings around us.
“…The city,” he scoffed. “All of these fuckin’ skyscrapers. Dirty streets. Junkies and bums crowding the alleyways. This ain’t no place for you, Rock. You should come on home.”
I couldn’t deny that Ivory had its appeal. Maybe it was just because it was home but there was a part of me that would always remember what it would be like to live there.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll be leaving much behind…”
Sebastian looked up at the flickering neon sign of the bar. The place looked just as shitty as it did on the outside as it did inside.
“It’s honest work,” I sighed. “The place needs me. The bar needs a bouncer.”
“Bouncers are a dime a dozen. You can be replaced here. But you can’t be replaced on this job—”
“This job. This job you won’t fuckin’ tell me about.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. Sebastian might have been honest with me but I fucking knew there was a reason he wasn’t telling me what it was.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what it is—”
“Finally.”
“It’s four nights of work. You get a hundred grand.”
That stupid grin came back to his face. I blinked to make sure t
hat I was seeing him right.
“A hundred grand?” I said.
“That’s right.”
“Split?”
“Each.”
A hundred grand for four days of work that was legitimate.
Shit didn’t add up.
Maybe this was the first time Sebastian was actually fucking with me. Or maybe he was being honest and it was 96 hours of shoveling horse shit, which I would’ve done anyway for that kind of cash. Whatever it was, the bastard kept smirking at me like he knew I couldn’t turn him down.
“Why the fuck didn’t you mention the money in the first place?” I said.
“I just wanted to see if I could convince you to come to Ivory without it,” he said with a shrug.
He burst into laughter and slapped me on the arm. I rolled my eyes at him then looked up at the neon sign next to me.
“All right,” I sighed. “It looks like I’m heading back to Ivory.”
“Just one more thing before you ride.”
“What’s that?”
“Make sure you bring your patch.”
“Why? The Devils are done.”
Sebastian looked me up and down before responding.
“Not anymore.”
Chapter 2
MIA
My father was nearing his 60s but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. Sure, his hair was white and thinning. His tan skin was blemished and sagging with wrinkles. He didn’t move very fast when he walked.
I didn’t see any of that though. I just saw a man who defied the hunched-over posture that came with age by sitting up straight. I saw a man without a wrinkle in his perfectly-tailored suit. I saw a man who spoke slowly but with a deep voice that was as clear as day.
I guess you didn’t get to where he was without acting the way he did. I’d seen it my entire life. I was so used to it that there were times that I didn’t notice it.
Sitting across from him at the dinner table now, I observed him while he clinked his knife and fork on his plate.
“What are you doing?” he said, his eyes focused on his food.
“What?” I responded.
“Why are you staring at me and not eating your dinner?”