Losing Bash: Extended Cut (Charon MC Book 9)

by Khloe Wren

  LOSING BASH

  Charon MC

  Book 9

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Losing Bash (Extended Cut)

  Books by Khloe Wren

  Acknowledgements

  Biography

  Author Note

  Charon:

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  SHIFTING GEARS

  KHLOE WREN

  ISBN: 978-0-6483085-3-9

  Copyright © Khloe Wren 2019

  Cover Credits:

  Model: Blake Savani

  Photographer: Reggie Deanching of R+M 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

  Tripping Nitro

  Scout’s Legacy

  Mac’s Destiny

  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

  It’s been a bittersweet experience to write Losing Bash. I’ve loved this man since he first appeared on the page and writing about his heartache definitely had an effect on me! And now it’s time to hand him over into Janine’s care. I’m sure she’ll do him right and hook him up with his ideal woman.

  I’ve never done anything like what Janine and I have done with this project and it’s been an exciting roller coaster of a ride! I can’t wait for you all to read Bash and Needles’ journeys as they move across the country to get their fresh starts in life.

  As always, a shout out to my husband and girls for putting up with me while I worked long hours to get this one written and published.

  To my PA Andrea, who once more kept me sane and worked hard to help keep things rolling.

  My street team, thank you for the support and encouragement.

  To my betas Andrea and Miranda, I’d apologize for making you cry, but you know I wouldn’t mean it! *wink*

  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, and an ever growing list of animals.

  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.

  Author Note

  This story deals with a few medical conditions. My life has been touched by each of them.

  My maternal grandmother suffered a brain tumor thanks to years of following her husband around as he raged and threw things in the air. She came out of the surgery with Parkinson’s. I chose not to give Bash’s mother this condition. Instead she suffers with early onset Alzheimer’s. A condition my paternal grandfather suffered.

  I personally suffer with PTSD and all that entails. The paranoia, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, depression. I’ve never turned to alcohol or been violent, but I know how common that is among sufferers.

  As with any medical condition, each sufferer has different symptoms and coping mechanisms. The characters in this book are just a couple of examples and by no means cover the full spectrum of what people with these conditions suffer.

  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.

  Prologue

  November 2016

  Scout

  It wasn’t every day a citizen was brave enough to approach me straight up. So as I sat in Marie’s Cafe, sipping my coffee and keeping an eye on things, I took notice when an older woman I hadn’t seen in over two years came in and paused to scan the room until her gaze locked on mine. With her head held high, she clutched her handbag strap and strode over to me. Woman hadn’t changed a bit, not in all the years I’d known her. Laura Alfonsi was old school. She’d have to be in her late fifties, maybe early sixties now. Just as she’d always been, she was neatly dressed in a skirt and blouse, with her hair perfectly styled so she fucking looked like she’d stepped straight off the page of a 1950s housewives’ magazine.

  I had no fucking clue why she was looking for me. Her old man had passed away just over two years ago and I hadn’t seen her since.

  “Wonder what she wants?”

  “No clue, brother.”

  Bulldog, my VP, was with me this morning, as he was most days.

  “Mr. Dalton?”

  Like I said, woman was old school and she’d always refused to use road names. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stood a little straighter, as if she were surprised I would talk to her, or maybe she was steeling herself for whatever it was she came here to ask me for. Even when Frank had been alive, Laura hadn’t spent much time around the club. She hadn’t liked bikers as a rule and refused to get to know any of us so we could change her opinion. So many people figured bikers were nothing but trouble. Generally speaking, we were just like everyone else. We had our good and our bad, and sure, if you’re fucking dumb enough to mess with us, look the fuck out, because we would come after you. But for the most part, we were more of the live-a
nd-let-live mentality.

  “I, ah, well, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?”

  With a nod, I stood and held out a chair for her to sit. I figured she was here to ask me for something, and she was damn nervous about it, so it must be something big.

  “Please, why don’t you take a seat and tell me what I can do for you?”

  “Ah, okay. Thank you.” She lowered slowly into the seat and I returned to my place.

  “Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?”

  Again with the shocked blinking for a few moments. “Ah, an iced tea would be lovely, thank you.”

  Bulldog rose, and with a nod, headed up to arrange it for her. Once he’d left, she cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her.

  “I’ve come to ask a favor of you. My late husband, he told me if I was ever in trouble and he wasn’t around, I should come to you. That you were a good man and would take care of me.” She cleared her throat again and blinked back tears. I honestly had no clue where she was going with this but Frank hadn’t been simply a club brother, we’d served in the USMC together, too. I’d only stayed in the USMC for four years, while Frank had been a career man. He’d come home in the end with PTSD and eventually it ate away at him until he couldn’t go on. It was a damn shame, and it’d been hard as fuck to watch him around the clubhouse slowly lose himself to the demons in his mind that none of us could figure out how to save him from.

  “Frank gave you good advice, Laura. I am the one you need to come see if you’ve got a problem. I will always be there for a family of one of my brothers, whether they’re fallen or not. I am sorry we lost him, though. Waste of a good man.”

  She winced and waved off my final words. “He didn’t come out of the corps as well as you.” She trailed off and I winced at what she was implying. Not wanting to upset her further, I tried to get her back on topic as Bulldog returned and set a glass of iced tea in front of her.

  “Oh, thank you so much.”

  I gave her a moment to take a mouthful, giving Bulldog a single shoulder shrug when he raised an eyebrow at me in question.

  “So, what can I do to help you out?”

  “My son, Jake. He’s the only family I’ve got left. Not sure he realizes it yet, but I’m sick. It may be terminal, and I fear for how my boy is going to cope once I’ve gone.”

  I vaguely recalled Frank talking about his boy, but he hadn’t been like some of the other club brothers, bringing him around to family barbecues on the regular. I saw him at Frank’s funeral obviously, but that was over two years ago and I couldn’t remember the boy’s face clear enough to guess his age. “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-three now. He’s a construction laborer. He’s a good boy and a hard worker, but he hasn’t had the easiest life, not with his father coming and going, then when he finally returned for good, in the state he did. He’s always been quiet and a bit of a loner and I worry for him.”

  At twenty-three years old, the man was a fucking adult. So I figured there must be more to her story. I sat forward, holding her gaze. “What, exactly, are you asking me for, Laura?”

  “I’m asking if you’d take Jake under your wing. Maybe let him hang around with that club of yours. Give him the family he deserves but I never could give him.”

  This woman was breaking my fucking heart right now, and making me feel guilty as fuck for not checking in with her after Frank passed. Or even before he passed, for that matter. Frank had been a quiet man, apparently like his son, and as he got more paranoid, he grew even more reclusive. None of us realized how bad he’d become until it was too late.

  “Laura, I’m sure you’ve been all the family he needs. I remember Frank speaking very highly of you, how proud he was to have you as his. I’d be honored to watch over your son. I’ll grab some more details from you in a bit and I’ll go find him later and introduce myself. Even though Frank was a Charon, I can’t promise you Jake’ll end up one. It doesn’t work like that. If I think he’d be a good fit, I’ll invite him to come hang out at the clubhouse, but from there, it’s a club decision on whether he gets voted in or not. Either way, I promise you I’ll keep my eye on him. Make sure he’s doing okay. Can you give me some more details about what’s going on with you? How long you think you’ve got left?”

  “Frank never did mean it. It wasn’t his fault, not really.”

  Ah, fuck. I had a good idea where this story was going. So many veterans suffered with mental illness. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in particular, could make them violent and abusive.

  “I’m sorry none of us picked up on the fact he’d grown violent. We would have stepped in.”

  She winced and shook her head, gaining my full attention.

  “Laura, be straight with me on this. Was Frank violent with you before he came home with PTSD?”

  She sighed and closed her eyes before she slowly nodded her head. “But it got a lot worse after he retired. He took to drinking, which led to him lashing out more often.” She cleared her throat and lifted her iced tea to take a sip as her cheeks grew pink.

  “Laura, that ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish I’d known so something could have been done to help you. We maybe could have stepped in, gotten him help. Given you some support.”

  She quickly wiped her eyes. “Oh, you are a sweet man. And I know it’s partly my fault. I never came around the club or got to know any of you. That’s on me. But I fear there wasn’t anything anyone could have done that would have changed who Frank was. Sadly, it seems he lashed out one too many times. At least, that’s what my doctors say might be the cause of the brain tumor. They’re going in to operate, but there’s no guarantee on how these things will turn out.”

  Guilt was burning me from the inside out. Frank had been physically abusing his wife and none of us had known. None of us had fucking cared enough to make sure he was taking care of his fucking family like he should have been. Fuck.

  “When is the surgery?”

  “Not until the new year. Hopefully over the next few months you can build a rapport with my boy? So if I don’t come out of it, he’s got some support. I’ll rest easier knowing I’m not leaving him all alone.”

  I took her hand between my palms and held her gaze. “I promise you I’ll take care of your boy, and if you ever need anything else, you call me and we’ll get it taken care of, okay? It doesn’t matter how small or big, you call me.”

  She teared up again as she nodded and I pulled a card free to give her so she had my number.

  “Right, so tell me where we can find this son of yours so we can see about bringing him into the fold.”

  Chapter 1

  Early August 2018

  Bash

  Never had I said no to Scout, the president of the Charon MC.

  About two years ago, when he approached me and asked if I wanted to come hang out with the Charon MC I’d said yes, and I’d been saying it ever since. But after the past several hours, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t start saying no once in a while. Not that Scout actually asked if I wanted to come on this run. He’d just told me I was joining Mac, Arrow and Tiny on a trip up to New York and that Mac was in the lead. That had been yesterday. Then, first thing this morning, he drove us to the airport in Houston and I officially left Texas for the first time in my life.

  Staten Island, New York was nothing like Bridgewater, Texas. Not the landscape, not the people. A club by the name of the Satan’s Knights was hosting us. A young prospect, Nico, had come and picked us up from the airport before taking us to a house where we were greeted by a tatted-up half-naked man who was hung over as hell. Parrish eventually got some coffee into him and Mac and Arrow had explained why we were there, which had come with a nice little lesson on Charon MC history.

  The simple reason for our trip was that the Ice Riders MC up in Boston had sent two men down to Bridgewater to get our attention. Stupid bastards chose to do that by holding Mac, Tiny and Scout’s women hostage. M
arie, Scout’s old lady, had been eight months pregnant and the trauma had sent her into early labor. Thank fuck both Marie and little Joey were both going to be just fine. But no one was happy with what had gone down. So Scout had reached out to Parrish to ask if he could give us a place to stay while we investigated how to deal with the club that had declared war on us.

  But nothing in life was ever simple.

  Turned out this fucking mess was a massive web that involved us all: The Charons, Satan’s Knights, Ice Riders, along with the L.A. mob and a cartel here in New York. That’s how I now found myself in the back of a car with Mac and Riggs, a Satan’s Knight, heading to a bank to collect ledgers.

  Those fucking ledgers had been the bane of the Charon MC since September, 2016. Before he died in the 9/11 attacks on New York, John Bennett, the brother of our VP Bulldog, had spent his time collecting information on several different organizations. Stupid fucker detailed it all in the ledgers. One on each organization. The only one who’d known about them before John’s death had been Antonia Sabella, the head of the L.A. mob. The only reason he’d known was because John hadn’t just collected information on them, he’d stolen money and destroyed their records of contacts and other things. Sabella had been mad as hell, and we assume had been coming after John when he’d died.

  Then, just before the fifteenth anniversary of the attacks, it was discovered a few bags had missed United flight 175, which had crashed into the south tower. John’s carry-on bag had been one of them. For some reason, he’d been forced to check the bag, and it had missed the flight. Sabella had wanted that bag, but the only way to get it was to use John’s only remaining family. A daughter who’d been sent to live with her uncle after her parents had died on that plane.

  Silk hadn’t wanted to know about the bag or anything else to do with the anniversary, but Sabella hadn’t cared. He’d taken her and used her to get the bag released from LAX. He didn’t count on Silk being so damn smart, though. Or the fact that airport employees would recognize him and want to help Silk. They got her into a private room to open her father’s bag and she found so much more than simply one ledger on the L.A. Mob. John had stashed six ledgers in that damn bag. Seeing as I was only a lowly prospect, I didn’t know everything about them but I paid attention to what was said around me. And I’d spent a lot of time working behind the bar in the clubhouse. You could learn a hell of a lot by just staying quiet and listening to talk around a bar. I picked up who each of those books had been on. Charon MC, Iron Hammers MC, Satan’s Cowboys MC, Ice Riders MC, L.A. mob and N.Y. mob.