Keeping Kennedy: A Chaos MC Novel (MC Chaos Book 4)

by Cameron Hart

  I don’t like being told what to do, where to put my shit, and when to be home. I don’t like having people worry about me and check up on me. It’s bad enough that my older sister Stacy is married to River. She’s always checking in on me when she knows I’ve been out on a run or if River talks about me. The man might be a roughed-up old biker, but he gossips worse than a ladies’ prayer circle at church.

  It’s pretty much been Stace and me against the world since our parents died when I was six. Stacy was sixteen at the time, and our older brother, Brad, was twenty. Stace and I were left in the incredibly incapable hands of our older brother. He was a real piece of shit. Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with him for very long. Stacy was always trying to protect me from his abuse since she was older, but I knew even from that young age that only weak-ass men beat women, so I tried to step in and divert attention when necessary. It was a terrible couple of years. Heartbreaking, really. But I don’t think about it much anymore. Stace and I moved out when she turned eighteen. She met River a few years later. I spent most of my teen years idolizing the guys at Chaos and patched in as soon as I turned eighteen. The twelve years since then have been the best of my life.

  Sure, shit gets real sometimes, but mostly life is good. I don’t like thinking about all the other stuff. I hated feeling guilty for all the fucked-up stuff our older brother did. My little kid brain couldn’t quite wrap itself around the whole situation. Equally as terrible was feeling guilty whenever Stace would go out of her way to protect me. God, all of it was too much. I give River a hard time, but truthfully, I’m so grateful to him. I know he’ll always take care of Stacy, which means one less thing I have to worry about. I don’t ever want to be responsible for anyone or have anyone be responsible for me. I’m a free agent.

  Hence why I’ve cultivated my lighthearted, gives no fucks attitude. It’s not all a front. I generally don’t give a fuck, and I do naturally keep things pretty light if not immature and annoying as well. But letting that be my default is definitely by design.

  Like I said, it’s mostly not a front. But the idea of letting someone look beyond that image I project is terrifying. And needing someone? That’s for sure out of the picture. No, thank you. I’m fine on my own. Great. Plus, I get to fuck as many women as I want, sometimes at the same time. So, you know. It’s not all bad being me.

  Why then do I feel all alone right now? I’m surrounded by my three best friends, and yet I feel… lacking. I tell myself it’s just because they are all paying more attention to their women than they are to me, but I know that’s not it.

  My mind wanders to Kennedy. Why, I have no idea. It’d be fun to get her all riled up and then fuck the fight right out of her. Yeah, that has to be it. She’s damn sexy and I have a few ideas of how she can use that cop uniform of hers in some creative role-playing situations.

  But I told River I’d think with the head on my shoulders, which means no sticking my dick in Kennedy. For now. I’m not opposed to the idea of a little “follow-up” meeting once we bring down the Devil’s Knights. Kennedy and I can celebrate naked in her bed until I make her cum so hard, she passes out. Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good plan.

  “Slash, what’s got you smirking like that?” Stacy asks as she picks up the empty glasses from our table. She’s the manager of the bar attached to the clubhouse. “You finally find a good woman? Did these guys convince you to settle down?”

  I roll my eyes while Liv and Claire laugh at me. Beth is still kinda shy, but I can see her hiding a smile. It’s fine. I don’t mind being the butt of their jokes. What I don’t like is the way Carter, Jax, and Dom are grinning at me. Like they know something.

  “You know that will never happen,” I scoff. “Who would I be if not the sexy, bachelor biker?”

  “Oh, honey,” Stacy gives me her best saccharine voice. “That’s pathetic.”

  Dom chuckles. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him for long, Stace.”

  “What?” Stacy and I ask at the same time.

  “Big time, buddy. You’re not long for the single life,” Carter grins at me.

  “You guys! Let him figure it out for himself,” Liv says. “Don’t ruin all the fun. Some of us have money on this thing, you know.”

  “You what now?” I ask again, incredulously.

  “Nothing. Nothing. Never mind,” Liv says. Her and Carter share a look and I can tell she just kicked him under the table.

  “Slash, have you been seeing someone?” Stacy asks in surprise.

  “Definitely not. Want me to prove it? I’ll take one of the club girls in the back and give her a ride.”

  “The lady doth protest too much,” Liv whispers.

  “What was that?”

  “Uh, nope. Nothing,” Liv says before breaking out into a giggle. She’s joined by Claire and Beth as they all share some private joke about me.

  “Slash, don’t be an ass,” Stacy admonishes me. She’s the only one who can get away with talking to me that way. Like I said, I’m not a fan of anyone telling me what to do.

  “Another round!” Carter breaks in.

  “Oh, yes. I’ll help bring the drinks over,” Liv pops up.

  “Finally, someone has some sense around here,” I say, glad to have the conversation off of my love life. “I knew you were my best friend for a reason, Carter,” I laugh.

  When the drinks arrive at the table, Carter lifts up his beer.

  “What are we toasting?” I ask.

  “To you and the future missus!”

  Everyone laughs and clinks bottles and glasses.

  “For the record, fuck all of you,” I say sternly before busting out a huge grin. I have no idea who these fuckers think my future wife is, but I’m never one to bring down a good time. If we’re drinking and laughing, I’m happy.

  A few minutes later, everyone has pretty much forgotten about giving me a hard time. I, however, can’t stop thinking about it. Why did I get a picture of Kennedy’s silky black hair when Stacy asked if I was seeing anyone? Why did I see Kennedy’s brown eyes and kissable lips when Carter mentioned my “future missus?”

  Fuck. I need to get laid.

  Chapter 3

  Kennedy

  After giving my boss a report of my first meeting with Chaos, I decide to call it a day. She made fun of me for wearing my full uniform into a club full of bikers, which of course made me feel foolish. The meeting ended with her scolding me for not getting any more information out of them or for coming up with a plan.

  That last part is totally on me. I knew my objectives for the first day were to feel out the club to see if they were trustworthy, and then brainstorm a plan of attack if I deemed them worthy partners. I told my boss that I trusted them, and I do. Even Slash. Yeah, he’s a jackass, but he showed me he could be serious and that it really does mean a lot to him. However, I got so caught up in playing his stupid games that I walked out before we discussed any further action.

  Well, he discussed a future meeting, but I flipped him off and walked out. So, you could say I’m keeping things professional.

  And the thing is, I always keep things professional. My career means everything to me. What happened today with Slash is totally an anomaly. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? Slapping him? Throwing a beer can at him? Twice? That’s not who I am.

  I’m in control, always. I prepare, I plan, and I execute. I knew I wanted to be a cop when I was nine. I took college credits while in high school and graduated with my high school diploma as well as my AA. From there, I spent six months at the police academy, and was made the youngest officer in the LAPD at nineteen. I took online classes part-time to get my bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. Three years later I earned detective, and last year I was promoted to the special crimes unit in San Francisco. At twenty-four, that’s not too shabby.

  But I can kiss all of that hard work goodbye if I continue going down this road with Slash. Not that we’re doing anything. Not like that. It’s me. I’m the o
ne who should know better. I sank down to his level this afternoon, but I won’t make that mistake again. My first meeting with Chaos I wasn’t sure what to expect, so Slash was able to rattle my cage a bit. But no more.

  Now I know what to expect, so I can plan. First, I’ll figure out a plan to work with Slash, and then I’ll figure out a plan to take down the Devil’s Knights.

  I pull into my parking spot at my apartment and make my way upstairs. The investigation into the Devil’s Knights is still in the preliminary stage, but once I clear up my other cases and things get going, I’ll probably be renting a shitty little motel in Sausalito. The commute from San Fran isn’t too bad, but no commute would better. Plus, it’s not like this apartment is home for me anyway.

  I’ve been here for almost a year and a half, but anyone walking in might assume I just moved in. I look around my studio apartment and try to see it as someone who came from a normal family would see it. A thread-bare thrift store couch, a coffee table, a mattress and box spring shoved in the corner, no bed frame. There are no photos, no knickknacks, no clutter. There’s nothing personal about this space at all.

  I suppose growing up in foster care can do that to a person. You learn how to pack up your life in a matter of minutes. Old habits die hard. Plus, once I realized my goal of becoming a cop, I was hyper-focused on advancing my career. Between school and work, I haven’t had much time for friends or boyfriends.

  It’s never been a problem for me before. I knew what I wanted, and I made it happen. Why, then, do I now feel… lonely?

  That can’t be right. I haven’t felt lonely since that first year in foster care. I was shuffled around from home to home, and while things weren’t great, they weren’t all bad. Until they were. I never found a backbone to stand up for myself, but one day a little boy needed protection from our foster dad. So I stepped in. It was the first time I felt alive since my mom died, the first time I felt like I had a purpose.

  We were removed from that home and I never saw the kid again. While I didn’t enjoy taking a beating, I did like using my voice and body to protect. The loneliness moved aside as a sense of perseverance took its place. It wouldn’t be the last time I put myself in that position to defend others, and now I get paid to do it. Well, among other things. But that’s how I see my job. To serve and protect.

  Everything about being a cop appealed to me. Helping people, being trained on how to protect yourself, taking down the bad guys, even the orderly bureaucracy of things. Ok, sometimes bureaucracy can be more hindering than helpful, but I appreciate the idea of it.

  My phone goes off, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  It’s my boss. Wonderful.

  “Hi, Amanda. What can I do for you?”

  “Kennedy. We’re hoping to move fast on the Devil’s Knights case. I want you to clear your caseload by the end of the week and then set up shop in Sausalito on Monday. This is your new number one priority.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Has something else happened to make it more urgent?”

  “Is running a prostitution ring not urgent enough for you?” She snaps.

  “Oh, uh, of course it is. I didn’t mean—”

  “Am I going to regret giving you this case? You’ve done good work in the past, but you are so young.”

  “No! No, I want this. I can do this. Please. Ma’am.” God, could I sound any more pathetic?

  There’s a pause on the line, one full of tension. “Get it done. Report in when you get to Sausalito on Monday.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and am about to thank Amanda, but the line goes dead.

  “Awesome, great talking to you too,” I say sarcastically. God, I need a hot shower. Yes, that will make this horrible day much better.

  I know a lot of people with my background have developed an extreme dislike for authority figures, but it seems that I went in the opposite direction. Not only did I become a cop, but I find that I seek the approval of those in authority over me.

  So, Amanda’s berating me and making fun of me today stung. More than it should. I have developed tough skin over the years, so it’s not like I can’t handle criticism. I just hate feeling like a failure before things have even started. For the first time in a long time I feel… weak.

  Stepping into the shower, I moan as the first streams of hot water hit my skin and wash away some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. Fuck, I am all over the place today. Feeling lonely, weak, and… and… empty? What are these things? And why the hell can’t I stop thinking about Slash?

  I keep seeing his stupid grin with that damn dimple popping out on one side. And his clear blue eyes, shining with an ease and lightness like he’s never known pain. That can’t be true, but I find myself begrudgingly admiring his ability to laugh so easily. And god, what a laugh. I swear I could feel the deep rumble all the way down to my toes each time he chuckled. Even when it was at my expense. And, I mean, I’d have to be blind not to notice how ripped the guy is. Mmm… muscles, tattoos, blue eyes, soft lips opening, white teeth biting down, thick fingers teasing me, rubbing me, entering me…

  Oh, fuck.

  My eyes snap open and I stare down with equal parts horror and pleasure as my hand moves in between my legs. I can’t stop. Two fingers circle my clit and dip down into my entrance, collecting an embarrassing amount of my juices and bringing them back to my clit. Again, and again my fingers follow the trail.

  I try to push Slash out of my mind, telling myself I’m just getting off on the idea of a strong, sexy bad boy. But the closer I get to my release, I can no longer deny that it’s his eyes I see, his muscles I feel, his voice I hear, demanding my orgasm.

  I’ve never had a guy talk dirty to me before, but I’ve always secretly wanted it. It’s not exactly something you can just ask someone to start doing. No, they have to be the one to initiate it. And I have no doubts that Slash has a filthy mouth.

  I pump my fingers in and out of my hole, using the heel of my hand to grind down on my clit. My other hand squeezes my breast, and I imagine Slash’s strong hands kneading and pinching my sensitive flesh. I curl my fingers up, trying in vain to find that sweet spot, the one that no one else has been able to find either.

  I’ve only ever had very boring and unsatisfying sex with a guy I dated about three years ago. We slept together a few times, but I realized he just wanted to use me to get himself off. He didn’t care one way or the other if I had any pleasure in our experience. He never brought me to orgasm and got angry and aggressive when I tried talking to him about it. Needless to say, we were not together for very long.

  Shoving thoughts of Adam aside, I give into the fantasy of Slash. He holds himself above me, muscles taut and dripping sweat as he pounds into me. I want to feel it. I want to feel him tear me apart. I can picture it – picture his huge cock sawing in and out of me, my pussy stretching wide to fit all of him inside.

  “You like my big cock, baby? Take it. Take it all, just like a good girl,”

  Oh, Jesus, I can hear him saying that, his voice in my ear, his breath on my skin.

  I pull my fingers out of my entrance and blur them over my clit as the first wave crashes over me, causing me to buck my hips. I bite my lips together to keep from screaming out his name. That would be too much. Too real.

  As with every other time I touch myself, I try to keep things as controlled as possible. Leaning against the shower wall, I squeeze my legs closed and keep my muscles tight as I shudder out my orgasm.

  Once it’s done, I take a deep breath and try not to feel shame. Masturbating is normal. Healthy, even. It’s fine. Everything is fine. I resume my shower, washing off my body, my hair, the memories of Slash.

  By the time I crawl into bed several hours later, however, I’m aching. I can’t explain it. There’s an emptiness I’ve never experienced before. It’s physical, yeah, but it’s deeper. I go to sleep with a dangerous thought.

  I want Slash to fill all of my empty places.

  Chapter 4

  Slash />
  Despite the super clear conversation at the end of our first meeting, I didn’t see Kennedy the next day. Or the day after that.

  I’m in the media room, lounging on the couch. Yeah, sometimes being a member of Chaos is all blazing guns and illicit activity, but sometimes it’s just sitting your ass down on a couch and watching Netflix because fuck it.

  My mind isn’t really tracking with whatever is playing on the screen, however.

  Today marks day three of no word from Kennedy. I don’t know why I’m counting the days. I tell myself it’s just because I thought I’d see her the next day and so it took me by surprise that she hasn’t shown up yet. But I’m starting to think maybe I just miss her.

  Which is crazy, right? I mean, yeah, Kennedy is one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen, and it was fun getting her all riled up, but that’s not enough to cause me to miss someone.

  “Sleeping on the job, Slash?”

  I don’t have to turn around to know who that velvet voice belongs to. I open my mouth to give her some sort of snarky remark, but when I turn around and get a look at her, my brain turns to absolute mush.

  Strike what I said earlier about Kennedy being “one of the sexiest women” I’ve ever seen. Standing in the doorway is hands-down the most delicious, sexiest fucking creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Kennedy is wearing a tight pair of black slacks that hug her hips and ass, and a red, sleeveless blouse that stretches over her perfect tits. Her hair is pulled back into a thick ponytail. Goddamn. I want to wrap that ponytail around my hand and yank her head back so I can lick and suck every inch of her slender neck.

  I’ve never been into the naughty librarian thing, but Jesus fucking Christ, I am now. Or maybe it’s just Kennedy.

  “It’s… I’m, uh, Kennedy? From the special crimes unit?”