Tripping Nitro (Charon MC, #6)

by Khloe Wren

  TRIPPING NITRO

  Charon MC

  Book 6

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Tripping Nitro (Charon MC, #6)

  Books by Khloe Wren

  Acknowledgements

  Biography

  Dedication

  Charon:

  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

  Epilogue

  KHLOE WREN

  ISBN: 978-0-6483085-1-5

  Copyright © Khloe Wren 2018

  Cover Credits:

  Model: Scott Nova

  Photographer: Claudia Bost of CW3 Designs & Photography

  Digital Artist: Khloe Wren

  Editing Credits:

  Editor: Carolyn Depew of Write Right

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, please delete and purchase it legally. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Books by Khloe Wren

  Charon MC:

  Inking Eagle

  Fighting Mac

  Chasing Taz

  Claiming Tiny

  Saving Scout

  Fire and Snow:

  Guardian’s Heart

  Noble Guardian

  Guardian’s Shadow

  Fierce Guardian

  Necessary Alpha

  Protective Instincts

  Dragon Warriors:

  Enchanting Eilagh

  Binding Becky

  Claiming Carina

  Seducing Skye

  Believing Binda

  Jaguar Secrets:

  Jaguar Secrets

  FireStarter

  Other Titles:

  Fireworks

  Tigers Are Forever

  Bad Alpha Anthology

  Scarred Perfection

  Scandals: Zeck

  Mirror Image Seduction

  Deception

  Kings of Sydney: Daniil

  Acknowledgements

  Another book done mostly in the last minute because I set myself an insane deadline!

  Massive thank you as always to my wonderful husband and girls who continue to put up with all the crazy things I do in order to get my books written in time.

  I couldn’t have written this book without several people who patiently answered all my many questions about military life and the kink world. Eden, Dawn, Andrea, Stacey (and I’m quite certain there were more and I’m sorry if I missed you by name). Also, a shout out to Sidney Bristol for your derby help and Rachel Rivers for your police and fire protocol help. I can’t thank you all enough for your help.

  To my editor, Carolyn, no matter what I throw at you, you always come through with a marvelous edit. And this one was super last minute! I appreciate everything you do and thank you for another job well done.

  My fb sprint group, the Night Writers, thank you all for the many, many sprints that got this baby done. To my street team, thank you for the support.

  xo

  Khloe Wren

  Biography

  Khloe Wren grew up in the Adelaide Hills before her parents moved the family to country South Australia when she was a teen. A few years later, Khloe moved to Melbourne which was where she got her first taste of big city living.

  After a few years living in the big city, she missed the fresh air and space of country living so returned to rural South Australia. Khloe currently lives in the Murraylands with her incredibly patient husband, two strong willed young daughters, an energetic dog and two curious cats.

  As a child Khloe often had temporary tattoos all over her arms. When she got her first job at 19, she was at the local tattooist in the blink of an eye to get her first real tattoo. Khloe now has four, two taking up much of her back.

  While Khloe doesn’t ride a bike herself, she loves riding pillion behind her husband on the rare occasion they get to go out without their daughters.

  Dedication

  To Eden Bradley,

  thank you for everything you do and all that you are.

  Charon:

  Char·on ˈsher-ən, ˈker-ən, -än

  In Greek mythology, the Charon is the ferryman who takes the dead across either the river Styx or Acheron, depending on whether the soul’s destination is the Elysian Fields or Hades.

  Chapter 1

  Nitro

  Austin, Texas

  After taking a deep drink of my ice cold beer, I turned to my club brothers with a grin.

  “Damn, that’s a nice brew.”

  I was drinking a smooth pale ale from a local microbrewery here in Austin, and it tasted good enough that it had me instantly thinking about how I could get the stuff into Styxx, the bar I ran for my club, the Charon MC, back in Bridgewater.

  “Sure is. Tell me, boys, is there anything better than a nice cold beer after a long day’s ride?”

  In his late fifties, Bulldog was the oldest of the brothers who had come on this run, and the club’s VP. Tiny was the youngest at twenty-nine, while Bank and I were in our thirties. I’m sure we made an odd looking group with such a broad range of ages, but we were all wearing our club colors and looked rough as hell after spending the last four days on the road, so I guess we didn’t look all that different really. I scratched at the scruff growing over my jaw as I focused for a moment on Tiny’s full beard, wondering if I should grow mine out further.

  For most of my life I’d kept my face clean shaven, but these last few months I’d found myself letting my scruff grow out more often than not. It wasn’t like I had an old lady at home who cared one way or the other, and the club whores didn’t give a shit what a brother looked like. The sweet face of the only woman I’d ever truly wanted for an old lady flashed through my mind. It left me wincing and rushing to reach for my beer so I could take a large gulp. Refocusing on my brew, I pushed the memories of her back into the vault where I kept them locked down. I wasn’t that love sick, foolish teenager anymore and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since the day she vanished from my life all those years ago.

  “Well, I’d say a warm bed with my old lady in it would be better, but since that ain’t happening this evening, a cold brew ain’t a bad way to end a day of riding.”

  Tiny’s comment gave me the distraction I needed to push past the melancholy thinking about her had caused and I laughed easily with the others at his remarks. He and his old lady, Mercedes, only hooked up about five months ago, so were still in the fuck-like-bunnies stage of things. Kinda envied the man that. Mercedes was a good woman.

  “Give me a nice cold drink any day of the week, brother.”

  I hid my grimace behind my glass as I took another mouthful. That was Bank for you, bringing the mood down several notches
with one line. The whole club knew his and his woman’s relationship was a train wreck waiting to happen. I swore those two spent more time fighting than lovin’, so it didn’t really surprise me he’d prefer liquor to her. Still, none of us ever knew what the fuck to say to him when he dropped comments like he’d just made, so as per usual, I changed the damn subject and hoped he didn’t bring it back up.

  Lifting my glass, I looked to Bulldog. “What do you think about getting this one in at Styxx?”

  Bulldog gave me a serious nod. “I think it would be a good move. Maybe bring in a few different craft beers from around the area. Microbreweries seem to be all the fucking rage at the moment. Might as well cash in on it, if we can.”

  “My thoughts exactly, and I’ve been thinking on this shit for a while now. Actually, I’ve been thinking about a few different things we could try. Like adding a beer garden to Styxx. Have somewhere outside where folks can sit and relax with a drink.”

  Bulldog’s jaw clenched a moment, which I knew meant he was giving the idea some serious thought, before he gave me another nod. “Yeah, I like the sound of that. Cost that shit out and bring it to church so we can get it moving. The parking lot out back is bigger than we need, so we have the space.”

  Loud laughter had me turning in my seat to see a group of women who’d just entered the bar. Everything within me froze as my gaze caught on one of them in particular, dressed like a retro pin-up. She wore a high-waisted, skin-tight red skirt that went just below her knees with a slit that went about halfway up the middle of the front, giving me a glimpse of her stocking clad thighs with every step she took. Her top was an equally tight, black button-up shirt that showed plenty of cleavage. It also revealed arms that were heavily inked. Quite simply, she was the hottest woman I’d ever seen. And she seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think where I would have met her before.

  Trying to place where I knew her from, I kept my gaze on her as she moved with her group up to the bar, and closer to where we sat in a back booth in the shadows. The low lights over the bar were brighter than elsewhere in the place and when they shone on her, it reflected on the glossy sheen of her chestnut brown hair, making it stand out almost as much as the ink on her arms. Her face swung my way and the breath caught in my throat as I knew exactly who she was.

  “Fuck it all.”

  It must have been nearly twenty years now, since I’d last laid eyes on Cindy, but those blue-gray eyes, those high cheekbones and that sexy as fuck mouth of hers were ingrained in my memory. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to get my brain to fucking function properly. Could it really be her? Surely it was just my imagination playing with me because I’d been thinking about her earlier.

  “Well, now, those ladies look like a whole lot of trouble.”

  Bulldog’s words had me looking back over at her. She’d always been trouble. In the best possible way. I doubted that had changed.

  “That brunette in the blue shirt looks like the bird off that old ‘We can do it’ poster, don’t you think?”

  “I’m guessing that was the look she was aiming for. Wonder why they’re all dressed up like they are.”

  At Bank’s and Bulldog’s comments, I forced my focus from the woman who’d once been the center of my entire fucking universe, taking in the group she was with. There were about a dozen ladies with her and a couple men. A few of the other girls were dressed like her in retro shit, a couple in goth-punk looking outfits, a few others in hippy shit and then a handful of chicks, and the men, that were dressed in normal shit like jeans and shirts. One of the girls was indeed dressed just like a 1940s mechanic, in a pair of short-sleeve, fitted blue overalls. Her dark hair was up with a red bandana wrapped around it.

  They were an interesting mix, that’s for sure. I frowned when one of the women draped her arm casually over Cindy’s shoulders. They were a very affectionate group, too. There was a lot of touching going on between them. Nothing overly sexual, thank fuck, but it was more than I’d ever seen within a group of women. Cindy had needed a lot of hands-on affection as a teen, but that had always been my fucking job. Not her friends’.

  “Did you just growl?”

  Fuck. Had I?

  “Just clearing my throat, brother.”

  Tiny chuckled before slapping my shoulder. “Brother, you can take as many of them as you like. You don’t need to get all growly about it when you’re the only single man standing, buddy.”

  “It ain’t like that. The chick in the red skirt? I think that’s a girl I knew back in school. She was mine, then one day she was fucking gone. I haven’t seen her since.”

  That was greeted by silence. Great. Why the fuck did I just admit all that to my brothers? They’d tell the others and I’d be hearing about it for fucking months. Nothing spread quite like a rumor in an MC did. Especially if the old ladies got wind of it.

  Bulldog cleared his throat. “She the reason you came to us in the first place?”

  “Yeah.”

  I didn’t need to say more. Bulldog had been there when I’d first started hanging around the club. I’d been nothing but an eighteen-year-old kid, full of rage and aggression. It had been Bulldog, Scout and a few of the others who, after finding out I was about to fuck up my chances at getting into the SEALs, pulled me aside and got me thinking more clearly. They’d helped me train and get ready, and despite the fact the recruiter had me pegged to fail BUD/S, I passed with flying colors. The club had also forced me to come clean with what had happened to fuck me up before they’d agree to help me. So Bulldog knew precisely who Cindy was to me.

  “Looks like she’s heading back to the bathrooms. Why don’t you go have a chat with her where there’s some privacy? Clear the air, if nothing else. We’ve got your back.”

  After giving my brothers a quick nod, I drained the rest of my beer and after knocking my knuckles on the table, I got up and headed after her. By the time I got to the hallway outside the ladies’ bathroom, my palms were sweaty and my heart was beating a mile a minute. What the fuck should I say? Was it really her? Would she remember me?

  Before I could plan out anything, she pushed through the door and my world narrowed down to just her. Taking her in, I wiped my palms on my jeans, and tried to prepare for her reaction to seeing me. Because now I was this close, I knew it was her. She hadn’t changed that much over the years. Sure, she’d filled out some, gotten curvier, sexier. But her face, her hair, that was the same. And I was dying to touch her again.

  “Hey, Cin. It’s been a long time, huh, babe?”

  Cindy

  With my head down, it wasn’t until I heard a throat clearing that I realized I wasn’t alone in the hallway. Then he’d spoken. That voice. That rough, familiar voice of his shot straight down my spine, just like it always had. The shock of hearing it again after so long had me stumbling, but he didn’t let me fall. Nope, Jonathan Harris had never once let me fall. Even when I’d begged him to let me go, he’d refused, forcing me to make the choice to leave my home and Bridgewater when I’d been seventeen to keep us both safe.

  I couldn’t hold in the gasp that slipped free when his warm, callused palms wrapped around my bare biceps, keeping me on my feet. My eyes slid shut as memories of our time together bombarded my senses. I’d had a crush on Johnny since my first week as a freshman, but it wasn’t until I’d been a sophomore that he’d finally noticed me. But the wait had been worth it. He’d been such an attentive and patient boyfriend. From the moment we connected, he only had eyes for me and was always so sweet and protective. We’d dated for nearly a full year before we took it further and I gave him my virginity.

  We’d had it all.

  Then we didn’t.

  The beginning of the end was the day after my parents were seriously injured in a car crash, when I’d received the first threat. I’d found it in our mailbox after I’d returned from visiting my parents in the hospital. A rough, hand-written note, claiming responsibility for the accident and telling me worse would h
appen if I didn’t cut all ties with Johnny.

  I’d only been sixteen fucking years old, and suddenly forced to deal with shit a teenage girl shouldn’t have to. Mom had only suffered a broken arm and a concussion from the wreck, but Dad had nearly died from his various injuries. He’d ended up having to stay in the hospital for weeks. From the get-go, Mom had been preoccupied with recovering herself and caring for Dad. That resulted in her not taking the letter I’d received seriously. She’d told me the crash had been an accident. When Dad swerved to miss a feral pig that had run out in front of them, their car had left the road and ended up running into a tree. Not really seeing how someone could have created the accident, I believed Mom and followed her advice to simply ignore it. That, and I didn’t want to break up with Johnny. He was always so damn sweet with me, making sure I’d eaten and had a ride to school each day. The last thing I’d wanted to do was push him away. I wanted him as close as I could get him.

  I’d found the second letter in my locker at school a few days later. That one had made it very clear that whoever was writing them was really angry with me. Apparently, since I’d not been listening and being a bad girl, I’d needed to be taught a lesson. I’d gotten home from school that afternoon to find my sweet cat, Whiskers, dead on the front lawn. He’d been hit by a car and just left there for me to find.

  Even then, Mom still didn’t take the threats seriously, and neither did the police. When I’d taken the letters in, they’d told me it was nothing but some kid in my class claiming the accidents for their own to upset me. Cats got run over all the time, apparently. But I’d been so damn scared of what this nut-job would do next, I’d done the only thing I could at the time. I gave in. I’d broken up with Johnny―well, I’d tried to. He’d assumed I’d been just overwhelmed with everything and not thinking clearly, so he’d told me he’d back off but he wasn’t going anywhere. So I’d then done what teenagers do best when they found themselves backed into a corner. I ran.