Destroying the Biker
The Biker Series
Cassie Alexandra
Copyright 2018© Cassie Alexandra / Kristen Middleton
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Full Book List and Links
Romantic Thrillers by K.L. Middleton
Recommended For ages 18 and older due to sexual situations and language.
Tangled Beauty
Tangled Mess
Tangled Fury
Billionaire at Sea
Books written under Cassie Alexandra (pen name) – Romance and Gritty Biker Books
Recommended For ages 18 and older due to sexual situations and language.
Sweet Treats – Co-written with Candi Heart – romantic comedy
Resisting the Biker
Surviving the Biker
Fearing the Biker
Breaking the Biker
Taming the Biker
Loving the Biker
Luring the Biker
Christmas with the Biker
Fantasy / Reverse Harem – Cassie Alexandra
Recommended For ages 18 and older due to sexual situations and language.
Four Corners
Fantasy / Romance / Horror – Kristen Middleton
VAMPIRES and SHIFTERS – Recommended for ages 17 and older due to language and sexual situations. (These are definitely not Twilight)
Blur
Shiver
Vengeance
Illusions
Venom
Slade
Toxic
Claimed by the Lycan
Jezebel
Deviant
WITCHES - Adventure
Enchanted Secrets
Enchanted Objects
Enchanted Spells
ZOMBIES – Humor, adventure, and romance
Origins
Running Wild
Dead Endz
Road Kill
End Zone
Paxton VS the Undead
ALIENS - Adventure
Planet Z
Blood of Brekkon
Crime Thriller
Searching for Faith
Looking for Lainey
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Enchanted Secrets
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Blur
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Taming the Biker
Resisting the Biker
Searching for Faith
Origins (Zombie Games)
Venom
Chapter 1
Ava
“ACTION!” THE DIRECTOR called.
Adrenaline on fire, I shifted my foot from the brake to the accelerator of the pickup and took off down HWY 95. Reaching the first marker, I turned the wheel toward desert terrain, feeling every bump all the way through to my teeth. Checking the rearview mirror, I noticed Chuck Donovan, the other stunt driver, gathering speed behind me in the black SUV. I mentally prepared myself for what was to come next.
You’ve got this, I told myself, trying not to think of the crash that had happened on the set the day before. There’d been a chase scene down Flamingo Road. Another stunt driver had miscalculated a turn and was now dealing with a spinal injury. If that wasn’t bad enough, two weeks prior, one of the Special Effects techs had lost a couple of fingers in an explosion. Being that I was slightly superstitious—okay very superstitious—my inner alarm was screaming that something else was bound to happen, because everyone knew… bad things happened in threes.
I quickly touched the lucky crucifix hanging from my neck, the one my foster mother, Millie, had given me the day she signed the papers to legally adopting me. Millie told me that if I believed in what it represented, it would lead me down the right path and keep me safe. Although I wasn’t a religious person, I had to admit, life had gotten easier. Especially compared to the hellish childhood I’d endured prior to Millie. A childhood that still had me visiting a therapist once a month.
Chuck gunned it and was next to me as we raced through some of the shittiest territory imaginable. Bracing myself for impact, I clenched my teeth as he slammed the side of his vehicle into mine.
The pickup fishtailed. I quickly regained control and waited for him to hit me again, which he did. In turn, I hit the gas and turned the wheel sharply to the left, rolling the pickup onto it’s side.
“Cut!” the director yelled through his megaphone.
Hoping this take would stick, I waited until the signal came for me to get out of the vehicle.
“Great job, Rhodes,” Ben, the assistant director, said after I crawled out of the pickup and removed my helmet. “That shot was good.” He looked me up and down. “What about you? All in one piece?”
“Yeah, I feel fine. What about that other scene, George?” I set the helmet down on the sand and removed my sunglasses. “The gas station explosion? We still on for that one too, or are they shooting it tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he said, watching me clean the dust from my glasses. “Go and take the rest of the evening off.” He checked his clipboard. “Just be back around eight a.m.”
I sighed in relief.
It had been a long day of retakes and I was starting to get a headache. A cold bottle of beer and some Chipotle sounded like heaven at the moment.
“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”
Ben patted me on the back. “Have to say, I’m impressed with your work. You do your job and don’t complain. It’s a nice change from some of the people we’ve hired in the past.”
I grinned. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
Although I’d done a lot of other jobs, most of them had been low-budget commercials and movies. This one was definitely a much higher caliber, as was the pay.
He winked. “No problem.”
I left the set, still feeling pretty good about Ben’s compliment, and changed out of costume in one of the trailers. As I headed toward the red Kowasaki Ninja I’d rented during my stay in Vegas, I ran into Hunter Calloway, who was the lead actor in the movie being filmed. It was about a CIA agent who’d lost his memory and was being hunted down by other agents he’d double-crossed. I was his co-star’s stunt-double for the movie, an a
ctress named Valerie James, who didn’t do action or nude scenes. I did both, mainly because it paid very well and, frankly, modesty was something I’d lost a long time ago. Hunter was in his late forties, handsome, but also an arrogant pig with an ego the size of Texas.
“Ava, hold up,” he said, as I pretended not to see him.
Grumbling under my breath, I turned around and curled my lips back into a smile. “What’s up, Hunter?”
He jogged up to me. “I’m done filming for the day and was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner?”
I took in Hunter’s fake orange tan, and had to bite my tongue to keep from commenting on it. “I wish I could. I’m having dinner with some friends. Thank you, though.”
“Maybe next time?” he asked, looking disappointed. “I’ll take you somewhere nice.”
I don’t know why… but that statement irritated me. Probably because I couldn’t stand the prick. We’d recently had an intimate scene, and although he was supposed to have worn a penis-sock during the shoot, Hunter had “forgotten” to put it on. I’d ignored his arousal completely, mainly because he didn’t even apologize for it. In fact, I could tell by the way he’d been looking at me that I was supposed to have been impressed.
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Unless, we’re going to dinner as a group.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Why?”
“I think it’s important to keep a platonic relationship when you’re working with someone. It’s a rule I have.”
“It’s just dinner between some friends,” he replied. “Nothing romantic.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So, it wouldn’t just be the two of us?”
“Look, if you don’t want to have dinner, fine. I was seriously just trying to be a nice guy,” he said gruffly.
I wondered if I’d been too quick to judge him. I normally had a hard time trusting anyone, and many times, looked for the bad instead of the good in people.
Hell, maybe I’d even been wrong about the missing penis-sock? It was quite possible he’d really forgotten to bring it.
Feeling a little foolish, I apologized for jumping to conclusions and thanked him again for the offer.
“Another time then?” he asked, smiling again.
I nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
We said goodbye and then I headed to my motorcycle. I started the engine, pulled my hair back, and slipped the helmet on. A few seconds later, I was on the road, leaving a day’s worth of stress and anxiety in my dust as I drove back toward Vegas.
AN HOUR LATER, I walked into the bungalow the studio had rented for me, a bag of Chipotle in one hand and a six pack of Michelob Ultra in the other. After putting everything down on the kitchen table, I checked my cell phone, which had been vibrating in my pocket on the ride back. Seeing that I had a message from Millie, I played it right away.
“Ava,” she said in a somber voice. “I have some news for you about your birth-mother, Sheila. Please, call me when you get a moment.”
The message caused a lump in my throat. I hadn’t seen Sheila in almost twenty years and the unexpected rush of emotions surprised me. She’d been a junkie, which was why Social Services had taken me away from her in the first place. Instead of trying to clean up and get me back, she’d disappeared, leaving me in a system even more dangerous than living with her.
Dialing Millie, I thought about my older half-brother, Andrew, and wondered if she’d learned anything about him. When I was little, he’d lived with his old man and had visited us every other weekend, until one morning there’d been some kind of argument between Sheila and him. I couldn’t even recall what it had been about, but afterward, she wouldn’t let him come over anymore. It had broken my heart. I’d loved my older brother. He’d been sweet, caring, and closer to me than anyone else in the world. I still remembered the days when Sheila had been too high to do anything but stare at the wall. He’d read to me, make us both pancakes, and sometimes take me into town for pizza or ice cream. He even bought me my first pedal bike and taught me how to ride it.
After their big fight, I asked Sheila why he couldn’t come around anymore and she’d said that he was hanging out with some scary men and didn’t want him bringing danger around. Back then, I didn’t understand the irony of her words. I only understood that she’d taken someone I’d loved away from me. I could remember crying for days, wishing that he’d return. Unfortunately, he never did. But, he did send some letters and promised that one day we’d hang out again. Unfortunately, that never happened, either.
“Hi, Mom,” I said to Millie when she answered.
She cleared her throat. “Hi, Ava. How’s the movie coming along?”
“We’re almost finished.”
“Good. I saw that one of the other stuntmen had gotten hurt the other day. I wanted to call you, but I know how busy you are.”
“It’s okay. Call me whenever you want,” I told her. It was a familiar conversation. Millie was always so concerned about disturbing or troubling other people. Sometimes, I thought she was almost too considerate. Of course, it was that same kindness that just might have saved me from following in Sheila’s footsteps. She’d used drugs to cope with her demons and… I’d started smoking pot and drinking at eleven. The worst part was that the drugs and alcohol had been introduced to me by a sicko who’d wanted me compliant so he could have his way with me. And… he had. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been the first.
Millie took me in at thirteen after I’d run away from several other foster homes. Hell, I’d been mad at the world and had been acting out because it had given me some sense of control, especially after the abuse I’d suffered in a system which was supposed to have protected me. I could still remember how angry and defiant I’d been when I’d first walked into her living room. Fortunately, she’d seen beyond that and had been my light at the end of a long, and terrifying tunnel. Millie had been a miracle, and I knew that if it wasn’t for her love and support, my life would have been over before it had barely begun.
She sighed. “About your mother—”
“You’re my mother,” I corrected.
“Okay, about Sheila,” she said, knowing well enough not to argue with me on the matter. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, sweetie, but… I found out that she died yesterday. I guess she had lung cancer. I’m so sorry, Ava.”
My legs felt like they were going to give way as images of my childhood flashed before my eyes. There hadn’t been many good ones, but there’d been some. Like the time I’d started kindergarten. She’d taken me shopping for school supplies and new clothing, making it a very rare and special day. Then seeing her watch me get onto the bus. I still remembered the tears in her eyes as she waved and smiled at me. I knew Sheila had loved me in her own way, even though in the end, she’d broken my heart. She’d never been an intentionally cruel or hurtful person. Just a weak individual who’d disappointed me, and probably herself because she’d loved her high more than her children or herself. At least that’s what my therapist told me.
“How did you find out?” I asked, trying not to sound upset as I sat down on the sofa.
“I received a phone call from a man named Dwayne Bordellini. He claimed to be your half-brother’s father.”
“Yes,” I said, recalling the name and face of Andrew’s father. I remembered one time when he’d pulled up to our trailer riding a motorcycle. I’d thought he looked scary, with his thick muscles and tattoos. He’d been really nice, though, and even asked if I wanted to take a ride on his bike. I’d wanted to badly, but Sheila hadn’t allowed it. “Yeah, that’s him. Did he mention if he’s heard from Andrew?”
“I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”
I’d tried reaching out to Dwayne a couple of years ago to see if he knew where my brother was. Unfortunately, they’d had some kind of falling out and he had no idea where Andrew had disappeared to. The only thing he knew was that Andrew had connected with some outlaw biker clubs. They’d argued about it and it had been the last
he’d heard of his son.
“Anyway, he left me a number for you to call him back at.” She gave it to me and I wrote it down.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m sure there’s going to be a funeral. If you’d like me to go with you, I will,” she offered.
“I’ll let you know. I might not be able to even make it,” I replied, my chest heavy. The truth was, I didn’t know if I could handle seeing my birth mother after all of these years. Especially in a casket.
“I think it would be good for you to go,” she said. “You might regret it later if you don’t. In fact, I know you, Ava. You will.”
“Maybe,” I mumbled, my eyes getting misty.
“I hate to do this, but Jan just pulled up. You remember her, don’t you? My friend from church? Anyway, we’re going to play Bingo at the Supper Club. I’ll be home in a couple hours if you want to talk some more.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, wiping a couple of tears from under my lashes. “I’ll definitely let you know if I’m going to the funeral, though.”
“Okay. I love you, sweetie. Call me when you’re free and let me know what’s happening.”
“I will. I love you, too.”
Chapter 2
Ava
I FINISHED MY Chipotle rice bowl, showered, and put on a pair of black leggings and a hot pink tank top, intending to go for a run. Strangely enough, I needed a shower to help invigorate me before any workout. Otherwise, I never found the energy, only excuses not to instead.
I pulled my light brown hair back into a ponytail and stared into the mirror. It’s been said that I closely resembled Jessica Alba, but personally I couldn’t see it. Sure, we had similar bone structure, brown eyes, and lips, but below the neck, I looked more like a Kardashian. Especially in the hip department. Another reason I had to stay on top of my exercise regime. Of course, I liked to joke that an ass like mine was perfect for a stunt woman to help cushion the falls. But, it was still a lot of work to keep it from bouncing back on it’s own.
Destroying the Biker (Book 8): (The Biker Series ) Page 1