Penance

by K E Osborn

  K E Osborn

  Penance

  The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 2

  K E Osborn

  Copyright 2018 K E Osborn

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  ISBN: 978-0648112365

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  Cover Image Copyright 2018

  All rights reserved

  I'm not sure how it happened.

  The way the cord of life can splinter and snap without warning.

  My family—in hiding from the Japanese Yakuza.

  My club—at war with the very organization my family is hiding from.

  Though, amidst the chaos, there is one shining light.

  A Spanner in the works.

  A woman who’s not only the complete opposite of me, and everything I stand for, but a woman who my parents should frown upon.

  She’s brash, where I am guarded. We shouldn't work.

  This story isn't about a dynasty reuniting and mending old wounds—it's betrayal, deception, conflict, and turmoil.

  Bloodshed—it's coming.

  Who will pay the ultimate penance?

  Jane, you are the Sensei to my Torque. Though there’s no way I’m anywhere near as tough or brave as Torque, but considering you are definitely the calmer one of us both, you get to be Sensei.

  Thank you for always being there when I need you, for always being my right hand.

  For helping me plot, for helping me create.

  My words wouldn’t be the same without you.

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my mother, Kaylene Osborn, for her work as my editor. You have worked with me to make Penance the best it can be. Hours of work has gone into this manuscript, and I know you put as much effort into my work as you possibly can. Thank you for believing in me and giving me the courage to trust in myself.

  To Diana – I’m so glad to have you on my BETA team. Your feedback is always on point and every comment you make I pay special attention to. Your thoughts and ideas always help to make my stories grow, and I couldn’t do this journey without you. Thank you so much for everything you do. This series would be lost without you. And so would my team.

  To Kim B – Thank you for all your thoughts and effort in your BETA process for Penance. You made some really great comments about the story which only improved the end product. I’m so happy to have you on my team, and I’m grateful you have been with me for so many of my stories. I hope we can continue for many more to come!

  To Carol – I feel like anything I say in these acknowledgments is getting old hat, lol. I thank you for being a part of my team, for the work you’ve done, for always being there. I don’t think a small paragraph in the acknowledgment section truly can grasp the amount of love I hold for you. My book journey would never have been the same if you weren’t in it. You help me, you support me, you’re always there for a friendly ear. I’m so lucky to have you. I just hope you know how truly appreciated you are. You’re the best!

  To Andrea – Your input is always top notch. The way you find those nuances that I tend to miss always astound me every time. I’m so grateful to have you on my team, not only as a BETA, but as a dear friend. Your insight and knowledge are second to none, and I couldn’t imagine doing this series without you! Thank you for believing in me and making me believe in myself. You are such a great support and lift me up when I need it. I love you, mama bear.

  To Cindy/Thia – I love that you always manage to find the little Aussie-isms that I manage to slip into the manuscript. Yes, some are meant to be in this one with Smokin’ Joe, but the rest of the time, you help me fine-tune it. I’m so grateful to have you on my team, your help is priceless. I’m so privileged you’re willing to help me and so honored to call you a friend.

  To all of my awesome BETA readers – Thank you for once again putting your thoughts into this book. I appreciate all of your energy and ideas, and together we make a great team. Without you beautiful ladies, this book wouldn’t be at its best potential. So thank you, every single one of you.

  To Christine – My publicist extraordinaire. You’re not only the woman who constantly kicks my ass, the woman who stops my panic attacks, the woman who shows me how to do things the right way – you’re also my dear friend. Over the many chats we’ve had, our friendship has blossomed, and I know I wouldn’t have had such an amazing release for book one without your help and support. You make me want to be a better writer. You make me strive for more. Thank you for making me see that there’s so much more that can be done, and there’s still so much more left to do. We got this!

  To Nicki – Thank you for proofing my new series. You did such a wonderful job on book one, and I’m so happy to have you working on my bikers. You’re a gorgeous person, and I’m so glad to have you on my team.

  To Jane – This book is dedicated to you. So I guess I should write something sappy and sentimental, but that’s not what our relationship is about... okay, you’ve twisted my arm… I’m not one who makes friends easily. People find me a little odd – strange – sometimes weird. But you have always been the first person to accept me and all of my quirks. You embrace my weird. Just as I embrace yours. We bonded over bikers, our friendship grew almost instantly, and I’m so glad it has because if I try to imagine my life without you in it, my heart hurts. Having you as a bestie is a bonus. Our plotting parties, our sprinting sessions, and our laughing fits are what make my life feel like I know I am doing something right. I don’t know about you, but I’m damn happy we met ‘cause I kinda love you. So this book is dedicated to you, for all the help you gave me to make it the best it can be.

  To Kellie – My amazingly talented cover artist. When I approached you with the ideas for this biker series you went away and came back with a load of images. We picked a few and then ran with it. Look at what you came up with! The covers for this series are the best, and as we keep going, they just get better and better. I’m so glad I have you on my team. You just… get me!

  To my beautiful, playful and utterly adorable pup, Bella. Honestly this dog is so freaking spoiled, to get a mention in every single book of mine, I don’t know *shakes head* but seriously, I don’t have any siblings, or children, or a partner, so to me Bella is like a friend that I can count on always to be there. That might sound sad to some people, but to me, it’s just perfect. I love you, Bella, now stop stealing the damn tissues!

  Last of all, I want to thank YOU, the reader. Your continued support of my writing career is both humbling and heartwarming. I adore my readers so much, and honestly, couldn’t keep going without the love and support you all show me each day. Thank you for believing in me, and I hope I can keep you entertained for many, many years to come.

  Thank you.

>   Much love,

  K E Osborn

  xoxo

  Below is a list of terms used in this book including Italian/Irish/Japanese explanations for your convenience.

  Ayla’s father (Smokin’ Joe) is Australian, and therefore this book contains some euphemisms and slang words that form part of the Australian spoken word.

  Please remember that the words are not misspelled, and form part of the everyday Australian lifestyle.

  If you would like further explanation, or to discuss the translation or meaning of a particular word, please do not hesitate to contact the author—contact details have been provided for your convenience at the end of this book.

  As Smokin’ Joe is Australian, he pronounces the word mom as mum, and hence, it has been spelled that way throughout the manuscript when in Smokin’ Joe’s dialogue.

  Please Note: In this book, Ayla is known by a variety of names. They are Alya, Spanner, and Sass. (They are all the same person.)

  Back Door – The last rider in a group ride. Customarily, the most experienced motorcycle rider.

  Baisée – Fucked (French)

  Bloody – the word is used in Australian slang. It can be used in both the angry sense and to emphasize a statement.

  Chikushō – Oh shit! Oh blast! Oh hell! (Japanese)

  Comprende – Do you understand (Spanish)

  Cut – Vest with club colors

  Fanculo – Fuck you (Italian)

  Front Door – First rider in a group ride.

  Gefickt –Fucked (German)

  Hammer Down – Accelerate quickly.

  Independent – Someone not a part of any club or group, but normally a part of the biker culture.

  Jodido – Fucked (Spanish)

  Kami – Defined in English as “god,” “spirit,” or “spiritual essence” (Shinto religion)

  Ketsumedo yarou – asshole bastard (Japanese insult)

  Körd – Fucked (Swedish)

  Manko – Cunt (Japanese)

  One percenter – Some outlaw motorcycle clubs can be distinguished by a "1%" patch worn on the colors. This is said to refer to a comment by the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA) that 99% of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the last one percent were outlaws. ~ Wikipedia

  Oyabun – The absolute leader of a yakuza clan.

  Pillu – Pussy (Finnish)

  Prego – You’re welcome (Italian)

  Sakura – Sass (Japanese)

  Scopata – Fucked (Italian)

  Sei una sporca puttana – You’re a dirty whore (Italian)

  Wakagashira – First Lieutenant – Yakuza

  Watching our six – Watching your back, someone positioned behind you.

  Yakuza – Members of organized crime syndicates originating in Japan.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Note to the Reader

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  More Books To Check Out

  Connect With Me Online

  About the Author – K E Osborn

  SENSEI

  Wind pummels against my face, the harsh sting of the bitter breeze, a cool reminder of the chaos surrounding my life right now. My club, my brotherhood, has been at war with the Italia mafia—the Andrettis—for longer than I could possibly know, and now, somehow, we’re working together.

  To bring down a larger threat to our city.

  To Chicago.

  To our home.

  Not only is the threat on our doorstep, it’s a little too fucking close to home. It’s the goddamned Ishikawa Yakuza, and the head—the leader, the fucking Oyabun—I believe to be my blood father.

  The thought churns my stomach as I hammer down on my throttle making my ride rev harder. I pull my bike up onto the back wheel letting out some pent-up rage. I don’t let it out often. But no one is around, the street is long and vacant, and so I feel free to unwind and let loose. Yanking back on the throttle to full capacity, I speed along the asphalt as fast as I can. The wind hitting my face even harder, my eyes watering slightly from the impact.

  This is how I clear my head—on my ride, at full throttle. But only in times of ultimate stress. Most of the time, I can center myself in meditation.

  But not today.

  Today I need speed.

  I need adrenaline.

  I need a rush to get this anger out.

  There’s a darkness inside of me.

  A man I do not come to understand.

  He’s the man who gets lost in the torture chamber.

  He’s the man who loses self-control in the kill.

  He’s the man riding this bike at ridiculous speeds right now. Not the Sensei that everyone is accustomed to—the calm, controlled, and placid man that nothing fazes him.

  My father—or should I say the man I call my father, Hiro Maki—he made me into the man I am today. He taught me how to hold in my rage. How to control my temper. How to master the art of Zen. A slow smile creeps on my face as I think to all our training sessions. How hard he used to push me. He only wanted the best from me.

  The cold of the metal presses against my flesh before it rips from my hand, flying through the air at immense speed. The ninja star slicing through the air, shards of light catching the edges sending glimmers of sparkling light through the room as they fly, one after the other. The spikes pummeling into the target, hitting with precision. Blobs of blood red splash and spray on the walls and floor as the flesh rips open from the intended target, while I duck and weave out of the way dodging whatever’s being flung in my direction.

  The thought of being hit in this battle is not an option as I continue to dodge and spin, throwing my ninja stars at the targets, to kill or be killed. I dip, narrowly missing an object which was aimed at my face as it continues on its journey and destroys the wall behind me, the bricks breaking and smashing, the mortar flying off in all directions. I grit my teeth rolling to the floor and throwing my last star which hits its intended target. The flesh ripping apart as the objects stop flying at me instantly, and a round of clapping echoes through the room.

  Standing up, I take a deep centering breath straightening out my gee—my white uniform with not a speck of dirt on it. I look to the boxing bags, my targets, which were filled with red paint. I notice I’ve hit each one with skill and precision.

  As my father steps in, I look at him while he continues to clap loudly and a wide grin appears on his face.

  “Raiden… I am proud of you, son.”

  “Thank you, Father. You have taught me well.”

  My father steps up to me and places his hand on my shoulder supportively. “Your training has come a long way, but you still have much to learn. You are young, only sixteen, but with me guiding you, teaching you, you can master anything.”

  “I know, Father. You are the best trainer… I am grateful to have you.”

  Taking me by my shoulders, he looks me in the eyes. I notice the hesitation in them like he’s unsure of his next move. He takes a deep breath and steadies his shoulders. “Son, I need to tell you something…” I tense up feeling the weight of his words falling on me. “I am not your biological father.”

  My stomach tightens at the memory, so vivid. So life altering. I’d lived for sixteen years thinking that Hiro was my father. Gritting my teeth
, I yank down harder, my back tire sliding out slightly as I glide around the bend. I need the rush. The thrill of the speed. I want to feel something, anything other than the anguish in my chest.

  It’s been eight years since I found out.

  Eight years knowing I had a different father.

  Eight years to fully grasp and understand why I had this dark part of me. Why I wasn’t completely admirable like the rest of my family.

  Why I am tainted.

  I have his blood running through my veins.

  Yakuza blood.

  Turning up my lip, I let out an audible groan pulling my bike onto a dirt road. Pebbles and dust fly up into the air around me, swirling into waves of patterns at the force my tires slide over the earth. My bike vibrates and rattles with the new texture, but I keep speeding my way to a destination unknown.

  I can’t help but think of everything my parents went through to get here. It makes my stomach churn at the lengths they had to go through to escape my blood father’s tyranny. The story they told me after Hiro admitted he was not my actual father was one so gut-wrenching it physically made me vomit. Thinking of it now is making my stomach knot. Thinking of my mother going through that…

  My hands clench so tight I see my knuckles turning white. But I don’t care. I need to feel the pain. I need to let all of this out before I go back to the club. Because letting my brothers see me this way is never an option.

  After my parents told me how they escaped, I never gave it another thought.

  Until now.

  Now the Ishikawa Yakuza have landed in Chicago.

  And the one thing my mother and Hiro told me about my blood father is that he is Yakuza, and his Yakuza family name is Ishikawa.

  That can’t be a coincidence.

  The scariest thing is, though, when I looked into his eyes—his ochre brown eyes—I saw myself in them. I don’t know for sure, but the Oyabun of the Ishikawa Yakuza reminds me so much of me.