BOX SET - CHAOS KINGS: Chaos Kings Motorcycle Club BOOKS 1-4

by Lawless, Linny

  * * *

  Matthew came into the living room, his stuffed duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t expect you home for another two hours, Tanya…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I got off work early and ruined your fuck fest in our bed.” Tanya threw a black leather pillow at him.

  “Apology accepted. I’m leaving now, and I’ll stay over at Lou’s house for a few weeks. I’ll make arrangements to get my things moved out of the apartment.”

  “Some of these things are mine too.” Tanya squeezed her eyes shut.

  Matthew walked out the door, shutting it behind him, leaving her alone—betrayed. The tears freely flowed, spilling on the expensive leather couch.

  It was a hot, sticky night. My sweaty T-shirt clung to me as I sat in a shithole bar. I finished my third glass of whiskey and asked the skinny blonde bartender for another. I crushed out my smoke in the black, plastic ashtray, exhaling the last drag. A good buzz would kick in after the fourth glass. I kept my head down low, pushing my cap and craning the brim, scanning the bar. I was always alert. I had to watch my back; I was being hunted.

  The Hell Hounds MC were after me now. If they found me, they’d kill me. But I had it coming. I was lucky that their Road Captain, Ratchet, didn’t kill me that night. He was a big motherfucker too—he nearly crushed my fuckin’ windpipe. It was Tanya who got him off me. Tanya—my sweet cheeks.

  The second I saw Tanya, my heart slammed against my chest. I got Sam out of the Steel Cage and back to Tanya’s apartment. Sid told me he was selling her back to Ratchet but didn’t plan on giving her back to him. Instead, he made a fucked-up deal with those Russians. Now, thanks to the Russians, Sid was laid up in a body cast at Stayford Hospital with the prognosis of never walking again. He would have been better off getting a beat down from his dear ole dad, Knuck, the president of the Hell Hounds.

  I was lucky the Chaos Kings didn’t hand me back over to the Hounds that night. Chaos didn’t give a shit about me. But I guess they weren’t as fucked up as the Hounds. They knew I was a dead man anyway. So, after that night, I took off on my old shovelhead. It was a good bike. Went fast enough. But the next day I sold it to an old friend down south of the county line. Then I bought an ’04 Super Glide. Flat black with a king/queen seat and the deal maker—two grinning skulls on both sides of the gas tank.

  I was also paid up for a month at the shithole Del-Alton Motel, not too far from my buddy’s bike shop. The room smelled like mold, which probably came from the shaggy seventies style, puke green carpet. The bed creaked on busted springs, but it was a place to sleep and out of the cross hairs of the Hounds. I didn’t want to leave the state. I grew up here.

  I took off my Hound cut the night I left the Chaos clubhouse. I took it out into the woods behind the Motel, found a dirt clearing, dowsed it with lighter fluid, and torched it. The smell of burning leather and lighter fluid rose up into the night sky. I didn’t want to be a Hell Hound anymore. I had seen too much. Done too much. All of it was bad—nothing good.

  It’s been a few weeks now. All I wanted to do was just get a good buzz. It sucked being alone. I lit another smoke, finishing off the fourth glass. I paid up my tab with the skinny blonde. She told me I shouldn’t leave so quickly—she wanted to take a ride on my scoot when she got off in a few hours. I winked at her but told her maybe next time; I’d probably be back next week. She pouted, placing her hand on her jutting hip, and watched as I headed out the front door.

  As I walked out, I recognized the two bikers as they swung their legs off their bikes. Hammer and Muddy—Hell Hounds. I lowered my chin and zipped up my hoodie, betting that the cap hiding my face and hoodie covering my ink would be enough to disguise me. Besides, it was dark out, and they wouldn’t recognize my Super Glide. But then I inadvertently gave myself away, walking with the slight limp I’d been trying to make as part of my natural gait all my life.

  “MotherFUCKER!” Hammer recognized the limp. I was only a yard away from my bike. Next two heartbeats, I swung my leg over my bike, started it up, twisted the throttle and burned rubber, leaving Hammer and Muddy with a mouth full of gravel dust. I opened the throttle wide open and rode balls to the wall a few miles down the main road. I pulled into the back of a gas station, pulled my lid out of my worn-out leather saddlebag, put the shades on and high tailed it back to my motel, watching my mirrors and listening for other sounds of pipes close by. I knew the sound of every Hound’s bike—thankfully, none of them were Hammer’s or Muddy’s.

  I walked out of the salon after working ten hours on my feet again. Second time this week. I was exhausted. My calves and lower back ached. The tips and a full day of hair appointments was the payoff. I wasn’t complaining. I needed every dollar I could earn. Matthew moved out six months ago. He took most of the furniture, like the expensive leather couch and loveseat set, which then left me with the rent, and I couldn’t afford it by myself. I had to move into a smaller, more affordable one-bedroom apartment about ten miles away. Plus, the Chaos Kings didn’t want me living there anymore because of what happened with Sam and the Hell Hounds. The Hounds knew where I lived, and Ratchet and all the brothers wanted me to be safe. Especially Magnet. We were childhood friends. We grew up together and from the same high school.

  I didn’t know where Skully went after that night. I kept telling myself I didn’t care. Why should I? He was a Hell Hound. God only knew the things he’d done. And my blood was boiling when he showed up at my apartment with Sam. I was so scared but relieved that Sam was safe. He was standing right behind her when I opened my apartment door. Tall, dark hair. Not as broad as Ratchet but built all the same. Calling me sweet cheeks was not a good way to introduce himself to me, though—especially wearing a Hounds cut.

  Even though I kept my distance from him, I couldn’t let Ratchet smash Skully’s throat in at the clubhouse. Skully did get Sam back to him and to Chaos. And he took off after Ratchet beat the shit out of Sid and the Hell Hounds left the clubhouse that night.

  Sam was now Ratchet’s ol’ lady. Safe. Loved.

  Ten p.m. and I dragged my feet up the flight of steps to my second-floor apartment. I walked down the hall to apartment 206, fumbling with my keys to find the one that fits in the door. Clumsy me dropped them. I knelt down, swiping them up and exhaling. As I rose, a hand cupped over my mouth, and my back was pressed up against a hard chest. I moaned, faint and muffled.

  “Shh. It's Skully, Tanya. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Will you nod for me?” Just a whisper next to my cheek. I nodded. His hand smelled like cigarettes.

  “I’ll take my hand away as long as you don’t scream, okay?” I nodded again. “I’m coming in with you.”

  His hand came off my mouth, and I didn’t scream. I found the key that fit the hole in the doorknob, unlocked it, and walked in. He followed behind and shut the door. I ran to the kitchen and pulled out the butcher knife from a drawer. I spun back around and pointed it at Skully, my eyes wide with fear.

  He raised his hands up. “Whoa. I’m not gonna hurt you. I can’t hurt you. Not in my condition, anyway.”

  That’s when I took a good look at him. His lip was bleeding, and his left eye was a bit swollen. Only one arm was raised, the other wrapped over his chest.

  I lowered the knife and placed it back on the kitchen counter behind me. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  He walked over to my couch. I noticed the slight limp he had, wondering if it was just the way he walked, or if it was from a past injury. He dropped to the couch, slouching down to get comfortable. His head fell back against the couch pillows. He wasn’t wearing his Hound cut—just a dark gray hoodie.

  “Hammer and Muddy got me. Roughed me up a bit. Got away though.” He closed his eyes.

  I walked toward him, around the couch. “Why did you come here? You really scared the fuck out of me, you know that, Skully?”

  “Okay, okay, Sweet Cheeks—”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  His
head came up from the pillows. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I lost them, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “How did you know I even lived here?”

  The side of his mouth lifted. His mouth was…sensual. “I know you moved out of the other apartment and into this one. I’ve been keeping watch over you.”

  His eyes squinted, wincing at the pain under the hand he had wrapped around his ribcage. I stood above him, hands on my waist. What the hell was I going to do with him?

  “Did they break something there?”

  He looked down and winced again. “Yeah. No. Maybe?” He leaned back into the couch. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Don’t want the Hounds to get to you…” His eyes closed as he mumbled to me. Then he began to snore.

  I sighed. “Dammit…” I exhaled a breath. Kneeling, I grabbed his left boot and unzipped the side, pulling it off before repeating the process on his right. I gathered both his ankles and swung them up on the couch. Why? Hell if I knew. He didn’t wake up. I locked my door and went to my bedroom to catch some much-needed sleep of my own.

  “Wake up, Skully.”

  My head hurt. My mouth was dry. I opened my eyes. Sweet Cheeks was standing there above me. She was in a pink soft-looking robe, one hand on her hip, the other holding a coffee cup. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. I sat up and swung my legs off the couch.

  “If you want some coffee, go and get it yourself. This isn’t a bed and breakfast.” Her eyes were cold, her mouth tight.

  I got up off the couch. I remember now why I was in her apartment. I walked up to the living room window, pulling the curtain just a bit to peer down.

  “Where’s your bike?”

  “Parked it several blocks away. Traded the shovelhead for a Dyna.”

  I turned around from the window to look at her again. I had to admit; she was a hot looking chick. Those eyes, that auburn hair, her high cheekbones, and that pouty little mouth. I looked away. Had to. I went back to the couch to put my boots on. “You took ‘em off?”

  “Yes, I did. You passed out. Snoring away.”

  “Sorry about the snoring. Thanks for letting me crash here last night.” I had my boots on. I stood up, putting me right in her personal space, only five inches away. We were so close, I could smell her hair—that flowery stuff they put in expensive shampoos.

  She stepped back from me then, giving us distance. “I’ll go now, Sweet Cheeks,” I mumbled, staring at her mouth.

  Her brows knotted together. “Don’t call me that. Dammit!”

  I chuckled. I liked how mad she got when I called her that.

  “Well, you can’t go looking like that, Skully. Sit down. You should clean up a bit. And how are you going to ride if your ribs are all busted up?” She left me, walking into her bathroom before coming back with a bottle of peroxide and a washcloth.

  Opening the bottle and pouring some on the cloth, she brought it to my lip.

  “Fuck!” My head snapped back.

  “Crybaby.” She pressed the cloth onto my lip again, but gentler this time. Then she pressed it up above my swollen eye.

  “Oh, tough Hell Hound. Can’t take a little pain?”

  I reached up and wrapped my hand over hers. “I’m not a Hound. Not anymore, Tanya.”

  She was silent then, looking up at me. Her eyes turned soft. “If they find you, they will kill you, Skully.”

  I pulled her hand away from my swollen eye before turning away to walk to her door. “Yeah, I know. And my goal is to stay alive.” I unlocked her door and turned back to her. “Lock up when I leave, sweet cheeks.”

  “Dammit, Skully!”

  I shut it before she could charge at me.

  My bike was right where I left it, five blocks away from Tanya’s apartment. My rib was killing me. Hurt like bloody hell. I swung my leg over my Dyna and high tailed it back to my shitty motel room.

  I was relieved Hammer and Muddy lost me after I got a good ass beating the night before. I didn’t go back to that shithole bar they’d seen me. Unfortunately for me, though, they found me again at a fuckin’ gas station. Had to fill up the tank on the bike and pay cash to the old man at the counter inside. When I heard the pipes, it was too late. I stepped outside and ran to my bike, but they got me. Roughed me up right there by the gas pumps. Muddy got my face. Once I was down, Hammer kicked his boot into my side. Hurt like hell. From far away came the sound of police sirens, and they were off me, taking off on their bikes. I got up off the oil-stained asphalt, climbed on mine, and burned rubber before the cops pulled in.

  But if they found out where Tanya lived, I wouldn’t ever forgive myself. It would have been my fault if she ever got hurt—or worse. A rock dropped down to the pit of my stomach every time I pictured those motherfuckers touching her. I’d seen how they hurt other women. And all those times I didn’t stop them. I would always carry that guilt around my neck like a fuckin’ albatross. But how could I protect her? The gimp ex-Hound who just betrayed his club. She would be much safer with the Chaos Kings MC. I knew this, but I had to see her again.

  I was in a rare mood. All because of him. That smartass, Skully. He had the nerve to scare the hell out of me the night before. And coming into my apartment uninvited! I hated to admit to myself that morning that I did sleep well. He was roughed up a bit by the Hounds, but knowing he was sleeping on the couch outside my bedroom made me feel safe for the first time since Matthew left.

  I was finished with my last customer for the day, an elderly woman named Patricia. She was a regular client of mine, in her seventies, who told me of her growing up in the 1950s and how things were so different then than they are now. She had white hair, and I would set it in curlers for a permanent. She reminded me of my grandmother.

  Patricia noticed my furrowed brows and how I’d rarely smiled since the beginning of her appointment. I was in my own world all day. I told her not to worry; I was just tired and needed a vacation. She patted my hands with her soft ones when she gave me her tip.

  Honey, the store owner and manager, wanted to close early after Patricia left. It was a slow night, and there were no more appointments.

  “Anything going on tonight at your motorcycle gang party house, Tanya?” Honey was a sweet, energetic woman in her late thirties with red hair and fair skin.

  “The Chaos Kings are not a gang, Honey. They’re a club. A tribe. There is a big difference.”

  “Okay, sorry ‘bout that. So, is the MC having a party tonight?”

  “Yeah. Why? You want to come along this time?”

  She was closing the cash register and doing all the accounting stuff only she knew how to do. She stopped counting the cash in her hand, then turned to me and grinned with a wink. “Sure, would love to!”

  She recently had a bad break up with a longtime boyfriend and wasn’t having any luck with the online dating thing. She was getting tired of all the blind dates her friends were setting her up with. I figured she wanted to go out and be social again. Meet some of my friends in the Chaos Coven.

  * * *

  The clubhouse was jumping early tonight. Music was blaring, cue balls knocking against each other on the pool tables, clouds of weed or cigarette smoke drifted our way as I walked in with Honey. Of course, Magnet was the first one to notice me and grabbed me around the waist, picking me up off the ground with his warm hug.

  “Hey, baby!” I really needed that hug from my childhood friend.

  Hey, sweetie. Still love those hugs.”

  He put me down, and his eyes went straight to Honey. “Introductions, Tanya.”

  I rolled my eyes as he reached down and took Honey’s hand in his. “Honey, this is Magnet. Magnet, Honey.”

  Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. He had that effect on women—that’s why he was called Magnet, as in “Chick Magnet.” I waved my hand in front of her. “Honey, I’ll grab us both a beer. Hang out with Magnet, if y
ou like. He can show you around.”

  “Oh, I sure will, babe.” Magnet winked at me, then started up a conversation with her.

  I left them, shaking my head, and walked up to the bar to see my favorite couple, Ratchet and Sam. They were sitting close together, kissing. Sam was so small next to Ratchet’s huge frame. He was a quiet one—had a low, gruff voice—but he had a huge heart.

  Sam broke their kiss when she saw me coming toward her. She jumped off her barstool and wrapped her arms around me. “Tanya, baby!”

  I squeezed her tightly back. She was the bravest woman I knew. She was abused and treated as property to the Hell Hounds MC, but she’d dared to make a better life for herself and escaped that hell—landing right on Ratchet. You could see how much he loved her; they looked like two teenagers finding love for the first time.

  I remember that feeling. That first time with love. I felt it with Matthew.

  My phone vibrated in my back pocket as I released Sam. I pulled it out. Matthew’s name appeared on my screen with a new message.

  Matthew: “I’ll stop by your apartment this week to get the last of my things.”

  I did have a few boxes of his things. I packed it all up for him and moved it with me to my new apartment. Not sure why. I should have just thrown it all away. I didn’t think he missed it anyway. It was only a few books and photo albums.

  Chickenshit couldn’t talk to me on the phone. I pushed the call button next to his name. It rang twice, and he answered.

  “What, Tanya?”

  “Are you bringing your new blonde girlfriend with you to my apartment?”

  “Her name is Melissa. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

  “You fucked her in our bed, and you don’t even classify her as your girlfriend? Why not? She looked like she had nice childbearing hips.”

  It came out of my mouth. The most painful part of this break-up with him.