by K E Osborn
K E Osborn
ADDICTIVE
The Houston Defiance MC Series Book 2
K E Osborn
Copyright 2020 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.
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ISBN: 978-0648718482
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing
Cover model by Alex Michael Turner
Photography by Reggie Deanching RplusMphoto
Cover design by Designs By Dana
Cover Image Copyright 2020
All Rights Reserved
My past was destructive.
It haunts my dreams.
The moment I embraced my addiction, I knew my life would change dramatically.
As the VP of the Houston Defiance MC, my job is to stand tall. Contain the demons clawing from the inside, begging to escape from within. But when I embrace my bloodlust, nothing can tame my wrath.
Zero took me in as part of his family - a bond unbreakable.
I should care about the no-touch rules.
And the fact they are in place on his sister.
But the draw to Prinie is addictive, destructive, exhilarating.
And I am all too aware that I'm dangerous.
She needs to see that too.
Her brother loathes the idea of us. Honestly, I put up a fight too.
But maybe fighting my addiction to her is impossible?
When chaos strikes the club, we'll turn to each other.
But chaos can just as easily rip us both to shreds.
From International Bestselling Author KE Osborn comes the second book in the Houston Defiance MC Series.
To Diana.
For always giving me your most utmost and humble opinions.
For always telling me the truth with respect and admiration.
Those are your words—now these are mine.
Thank you for believing in me, for telling me exactly how it is—how I need to do better, how I must improve. Without you, my stories would not be in the shape they are in, and I say that with all honesty. I can’t imagine going on this journey without you.
You might be my alpha reader, but you are also a dear, dear friend.
I love you.
For your convenience, below is a list of terms used in this book.
Any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the author.
Cage—Automobile, truck, van - not a motorcycle
Cut—Vest with club colors
Duck-walk—Navigating into parking space using your feet
Hammer Down—Accelerate quickly
The Heat—Police
Blurb
Dedication
A Note to the Reader
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author — K E Osborn
WRAITH
Twelve Years Ago
My body feels heavy. It’s still not recovered from everything it’s been through in the past twenty-four hours. Mother’s last client was particularly brutal, and my body now aches in ways I didn’t know it could. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole, that I could disappear into a different kind of hell than the one I’m currently residing in day after never-ending day.
My muscles throb, making it hard for me to sleep as I attempt to relax on the tattered worn-out sofa. Resting is never easy when you’re nervously waiting for the next client to walk through those doors—and there will be a next one and another one after that.
I’m zoning in and out—completely exhausted from the hell that’s coursing through my veins.
Fluttering my eyes trying to stay awake, knowing, waiting, panicked, my body starts to uncoil.
Then someone grips my bicep.
My eyes shoot open.
No, not again!
My mother stands beside me, her fingers grasped tightly around my arm, a syringe in the other while my heart pummels in my chest.
I shake my head.
I can’t do this.
Not now.
Not ever again.
So, I push back, her hard eyes glaring at me. “C’mon, Talon, I have someone dropping by in fifteen, I need you dealt with.”
Mother lunges, thrusting the full syringe at my bare flesh. My tired muscles pull and ache with the strain as I grip her hand, effectively stopping her. She lets out a low growl, trying to force me to do what she needs. “Talon, you little shit, don’t fight me, or I’ll let the next guy do his fucking worst. You hear me!”
Something snaps inside of me.
The innocent teenage boy breaks at those few words.
All I see is a red haze and an absolute need to get out of this situation.
My fingers tighten on her hand, shoving it away from me. She yelps in pain as the syringe flies off to the side and lands on the floor.
I’ve found my strength.
Mother’s eyes meet mine, so I don’t hold back, my hands move straight to her throat, gripping around it tightly. Her eyes bug out of her head as my fingers tingle, going numb at the ends. The force I use sends a high through me like I’ve never experienced before. Staring into that bitch’s bloodshot eyes as they slowly dim, ignites a fire inside me I never knew existed.
My body shakes.
My muscles tense as my fingers clamp harder around her purple-tinged throat.
She gasps, fighting for breath.
Her face is blotchy, her arms torn to shreds by her nails from all the hallucinations she’s had. Ice will do crazy shit to your brain.
My mother is a fucking mess.
While the life draining from her pathetic body makes me feel like more of a man, it’s giving her a fitting end to a pathetic excuse for a life.
My breathing i
s slow and steady.
Surely, I should be freaking out?
The thing is, I’m not.
I’ve wanted to kill this woman for as long as I can remember. She’s brought this on herself, and as the life fades from her miserable eyes, relief floods every part of my being, knowing I will finally be free from this existence. This prison she has me enslaved in so securely inside that no one can escape, but perhaps I have found my salvation.
Suddenly, I’m being yanked away. My hands detach from her throat as I fall back on my ass, and her scrap of a body falls to the floor with a thud.
“What the fuck, kid? You gonna throw your life away for this useless whore? Jesus!” T-Max, my mother’s pimp, yells at me while running his hand through his black curls.
A single bead of sweat drips down my temple from the exertion my body has experienced.
But I feel nothing for her.
Not a single damn thing.
That woman on the floor, her eyes close, and I can’t be sure if she’s dead or alive. All I can do is hope to hell that crazy bitch is dead. Gone! Forever out of my life.
A rush of adrenaline spikes through my body. It’s like fucking nirvana as I let go of the piece of fucking shit that was my mother.
Taking a step so I am now standing over her with my chest puffed out feeling like right now I could do any-fucking-thing, I spit on her.
I am not terrified.
I won’t be violated again.
I’m not restrained.
I’m free.
Free from this terrible existence.
Draining the life from my mother was everything and nothing like I expected. I didn’t know I could experience such power in the moment and how it charged like energy flowing through me. Like I’m the king of my own fucking universe.
Curling my lip up, I kick her in her stupid fucking head for good measure.
“Dumb fucking cunt,” I murmur.
“Hey! You need to rein your dumbass self in, kid. You’re in a fucking lot of trouble. I saw the whole damn thing,” T-Max bellows.
Turning to walk out of the home I’m currently living in—an abandoned apartment on the second floor of the worst street in Houston—I smile. If my mom wasn’t so good at using her pussy to find us accommodations, we’d have been out on the streets long ago.
Now, I have to find a way to make it on my own.
But I’m better off.
That bitch was evil.
Wiping the sweat off my brow, I continue for the door, picking up my mom’s pack of cigarettes from the filthy countertop and lighting one up on the way through. Grabbing my backpack, I swing it over my shoulder, then open the door. When the sound of T-Max cocking a gun reaches my ears, I jerk back in shock, virtually stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Can’t let you go, Talon.” He pushes the tip of the gun into my back.
Spinning around, I exhale a puff of smoke in his face, not giving a shit about any-fucking-thing right now. “T-Max, the thing is… you might see me a kid, but I just learned something.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “What’s that?”
My heart beats so fast I can hardly bear the feeling drumming in my ears.
I have the hunger, the need for it now.
He can’t stop me.
No one can.
“I have an addiction.”
He narrows his eyes. “For what?”
“Death.”
At full force, I reach out, grabbing his hand to shove the gun away as I push him out into the hall and up against the wall. In an instant, I grab the gun away from him and aim it at his head, ready to pull the trigger, and not giving two shits about the consequences.
“Police! Freeze!”
My stomach rolls, and my face pales.
T-Max chuckles. “Didn’t think with all that commotion going on in there, I wouldn’t call for backup… now, did you, kid?” T-Max chuckles.
Anxiety rushes through me as the three officers approach, so I spin to run in the other direction, but quickly realize it’s a dead end.
I’m screwed.
Fuck.
“C’mon, kid, put the weapon down and your hands up.”
Curling my lip, I figure my life’s already fucked up. What’s going to juvie going to do? It can’t be any fucking worse. It registers–I have no choice because that’s where I’m headed, so I slowly place the gun on the floor, kicking it away from me to the officer. My hands go up as I fall to my knees.
The good to come out of this is my hateful asshole of a mother will probably die. Perhaps I’ve found a new calling along with it because that rush of a life slipping through my fingers, I want that feeling again.
I need to feel it again.
It’s a high better than the drugs my mom forced on me, most of the time without my knowledge.
Death is my drug.
And I’m going to bathe in the blood of my victims.
This is what that thing in there made me into—a killer.
“Put your hands behind your head.”
Taking a deep breath, I lace my fingers behind my hair.
“We got a woman in here, Sarge. Barely feeling a pulse.”
I want to smile, knowing Mom’s out of it, but doing so in front of these cops would not be one of my brightest ideas. In fact, smiling is a sign of weakness. That shit shows your emotions, tells everyone you’re happy, and I have no idea what happiness means.
Remorseful. Yep, I need these cops to believe I’m sorry about the terrible thing I did to her, so I can get out sooner. I need to find a place that will accept me for who I am and what I am capable of.
And I will.
“You wanna tell me what happened in there, kid?”
His grip on my hands tightens making sure I don’t make any sudden movements. “She made me angry, so I choked her.”
“Was your intention to kill her?”
“Fingers crossed.”
“You’re a fucking disgrace, kid. You’re going straight to juvie.”
I stare Sarge in his eyes forcefully. “Good. Lock me up. Don’t care!”
Boss cop narrows his eyes in on me, tilting his head. “Might need a psych evaluation, too.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Hey, look, man… the kid’s a shithead, no doubt about that, but I saw the whole thing play out. His mom was trying to drug him. Bitch is a whore, and lets all kinds of fucked-up shit happen to the kid. I don’t give two shits about what happens to women in the bedroom, but to kids? Nah, man, that shit ain’t right! What the kid did to his mom, it was in self-defense,” T-Max offers, and it shocks me because he’s freely defending me.
Since when did T-Max grow a fucking conscience?
Boss cop’s intense stare softens fractionally, and he exhales. “You prepared to make a statement to that fact?”
T-Max dips his chin. “Yeah, he don’t deserve to rot in juvie forever for this.”
Boss cop exhales. “It’s your lucky day, son. We’re going to take you both in for questioning and processing.” Boss cop places handcuffs on my wrists, then hoists me up. “I don’t know what your story is, kid, but you’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
I shrug. “Sometimes, trouble is much better than the shitty life you’re living.”
Boss cop’s eyes widen before he says, “Okay, in that case… You have the right to remain silent…” He goes on reading my Miranda Rights, but I totally tune out until I hear, “… let’s go.”
Taking one last look back at the apartment where my mom’s body is lying on the floor, I walk away with Sarge wishing I could have given her one last kick in the guts before I leave.
The fact that thing in there’s life is balancing on a knife’s edge—well, my chest warms at the thought. Everything inside me wants that bitch dead and buried, and it’s like a dark, classical requiem being played in my mind, or maybe it should be the Hallelujah fucking Chorus.
Mom might die.
But for me, I’ve only just come aliv
e.
And I’m going to raise merry fucking hell right along with me.
WRAITH
Present Day
Sitting at the club bar on my own right now hurts more than my bruised and aching fucking jaw. Throwing back another tequila—that shit doesn’t even burn anymore—the memories flood my mind. But for some reason, tequila probably, they are all starting to muddle together.
My hands around my mom’s throat when I was sixteen.
Telling Prinie I didn’t want to pursue any kind of relationship with her a year ago.
Prinie leaving our club for a year with her brother, Koda.
Arguing with Prinie because I can’t betray Zero.
More arguing.
So much fucking arguing.
It’s driving me to drink.
I forgo the shot of tequila, simply picking up the bottle to drink it straight from the source.
We’ve just won a fucking war. We should be celebrating. But I had to go and fuck it all up and have an argument with Prinie, front and center, for everyone to see.
Since Prinie came back from Chicago, shit’s gotten real.
Did I want her to come back? I can’t contemplate the answer to that question.
When the club discussed it, I kept saying no. But when the opportunity arose to bring her back, I jumped at it. Then I fought it again.
When it comes to the princess of the club—my best friend’s fucking sister, my president’s sister— I’m all over the goddamned place.
She’s bad for me.
Because as much as I want to fuck her into the middle of next week, the urge to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle the life out of her eats at me too.
My addiction, my urges, they battle with me every time I’m near her. It’s a constant fight in my head regarding which way my hands will go.
Whether to touch her soft, delicate skin or taint it.
Prinie scares me, and I don’t scare easily.
I’ve seen enough, been through enough shit in my life to know I can handle almost anything—except Kharlie ‘Princess’ Walker. She has my balls in a vice, and the bitch doesn’t even know it. She’s mad as hell at me. We keep going in this loop, this roundabout fucking tangled web of hurt and accusations, and I don’t know how to get out of it.