by Jayne Blue
Kase
Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Romance
Jayne Blue
Contents
Text copyright ©2020
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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Text copyright ©2020
Jayne Blue All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
One
Kase
The rats were hard to exterminate. That was the damn truth.
“That way.” Brogan nodded to the alley between the barbershop and the dry cleaners. Both of the stores were under our protection. And both stores had been broken into the night before.
Brogan was talking to the owners, getting a list of shit that was taken. I was scoping around the back, seeing what I could see.
The cops had been here, but as Bob Novak, owner of the local barbershop, pointed out, “Our zip code is not a concern.” I walked up and down the alley.
The newest thing in this stretch of the brick-paved alley were cigarette butts. There had to be at least a half a dozen littered near the dumpster.
I climbed up on to the dumpster and looked inside.
It was noxious. The smell of smoke and wet trash lingered in the alley; it was concentrated right here.
I heard Brogan talking to Novak. Novak was cranky on a good day; this was not a good day. He had cash from the till taken and cash was in short supply.
“I get you. You’re right. And we’ll take care of it.”
The local businesses turned to us for protection. It was our local business. And if business owners didn’t think we could do the job, Great Wolves Chicago was fucked. We needed the trust of the Stickney Forest Business Association. The SFBA needed to be able to rely on the M.C.
Brogan finished the conversation and met me at the dumpster.
“Anything?”
“Well, you can see for yourself, but we dodged a bullet. Whoever did this tried to start a pretty little dumpster fire. Which very easily could have lit this old building on fire.”
All the buildings in the Stickney Forest neighborhood of Chicago’s Southside were old. But not all of them were shit. In fact, some people were working their asses off to fix this place up. And we wanted that. I wanted that. But one good fire...well, it had nearly brought down the local bar a while back, it could easily bring down an entire block.
“What stopped it?”
“Someone had also put a shit ton of wet towels in here too. The fire was stopped before it got started. Looks to me.”
“Good, three guesses as to who’s pulling this bullshit.”
“Bane?”
“Winner winner.”
Brogan was Sergeant at Arms for Great Wolves Chicago.
I’d known him my entire life. We’d both had a rough few years when we were younger, me thanks to grand theft auto, Brogan thanks to assault. We both had our reasons and we both paid the consequences. And now we both had found salvation on a bike, and with a patch.
Great Wolves M.C. was our church.
“You are thinking a few of our favorite members of Bane are out of prison?”
Bane were trying to be the badasses in Stickney Forest. They could not get over that they were over.
Even the name, Bane, was a dig on the Great Wolves.
I was still so relieved that our Prez, Ridge, had come to Chicago and showed us how to take out the trash that threatened to land me back in prison. The Wolf’s Bane wasn’t going to get that chance again, not if Ridge had anything to say about it. Not if I had anything to say about it.
“Exactly what I’m thinking. I’m going to check, but tonight, I need you to be here, eyes on these places. Let’s make sure they know we’re not fucking around.”
Brogan reached for his phone and muttered.
“Problem?”
“No, just, we need to go.”
“Oh, party time, eh?”
“Yep. I need you to handle this.”
“Then head to the liquor store?”
“Yeah, thanks, brother.” Brogan was like a brother to me. When I was on the inside, he was the one who showed me a way out. He knew what I was good at: fixing machines.
We got into the Great Wolves together, when it was still his. Great Wolves Chicago hadn’t got the memo from Southwood, Lincolnshire, Emerald Coast, or Grand City that it was time to go legit.
We both knew our original club was shit. But we didn’t know how to turn it around. That was until Ridge showed up. We stood up for him, and behind him the second he came from Grand City to knock some heads and clean house. That’s when it splintered. The Great Wolves Chicago were going legit, with Ridge, and The Wolf’s Bane with Crank and crew were staying shady.
I wanted to be a part of cleaning this place up. Even if I had to get dirt on me to do it.
I knew Brogan would die to keep Great Wolves going strong; so, would I. We had new members and we had other clubs who rode with us to strengthen all of us. We had this neighborhood.
It was working. We were so much stronger than before. Brick by brick, patch by patch—hell, even one probie at a time—Great Wolves M.C. was getting stronger here.
But it could all be gone, fast. We’d seen that with the Bratva, the Russians, who’d nearly killed Ridge. Evil likes to keep its territory and does whatever possible to make sure that happens.
We’d seen it when Bane formed and tried to kill cops and torch Stickney Forest.
We’d stopped all of it, and we’d do it again.
“I’m going to talk to Mr. Jefferson and let him know we’re doubling up around here for a few days. I’ll see you at your place.”
Jefferson owned the dry cleaner on the other side of the alley. I shook my head again. A dry-cleaning place had to be filled with chemicals. If it has ignited? Man, we were lucky.
“Okay, don’t be late, and don’t forget we need extra ice.”
“Right, right.” Brogan walked off, and I heard the roar of his Harley.
Truth be told, I did not want to go to the graduation party thing for his kid sister. I’d rather grab a drink at Kaminski’s. But Frankie and Ridge told me if I wanted to have a drink, it would have to be at this thing at Brogan’s. Frankie, proprietor of Kaminski’s—The Ski Bar as we locals called it—said if I was drinking, it was at this party. The club was a family. That’s what Ridge drilled into all of us. So, Grad party it was.
Well, maybe it
was for the best. I’d have to come back out here anyway to be sure Bane or whoever didn’t make a return appearance. It was best not to party too hard. I couldn’t imagine a little get together for Brogan’s baby sister was going to blow the roof off.
Damn, I was getting all mature, moderating my partying to coincide with my responsibilities. Shit, I was going soft!
I walked into the dry cleaners and caught up with Mr. Jefferson.
“Look, lots of cigarette butts out back, and nearly a dumpster fire. We think we know who tried to pull this bullshit.”
“If there’s fire, the chemicals I got in here, BOOM!” Jefferson said, pointing out what I already knew.
“I’ve got a guy in front, and one in back, parked. I’ll be here later. No one’s going to mess with your business. Guaranteed.”
“You better, this is the kind of thing Great Wolves is supposed to handle.”
“It’s handled.”
“If I have to sell this place, I need it to be worth something.” Jefferson shook his head and I took my leave.
I checked to be sure Tracks and A.C. were here and in place. I was impressed with my own self: this club was getting stronger, bigger, thanks to the work we did to recruit new members and to align with other clubs. Our bench was getting deeper, which meant I could leave the job to A.C. and Tracks. We had increasing strength in numbers.
“Handle this till around midnight, I’ll relieve you after that. That will take us up to dawn.”
“Got it. Kase, tell Brogan’s sister congrats for us.”
“I hear she’s grown into a fuck hot little piece,” A.C. said.
Tracks nodded in appreciation, “Yep.”
“No idea, but I do know if Brogan hears you call his sister a hot piece, he’ll pull your spine through your chest and put it on the grill, marinated with barbecue sauce.”
They were laughing as I left.
I looked at my appointed list of stuff for the party. I had just enough time to handle the errand and get to Brogan’s.
I had a feeling the next several hours was going to be a drag. In my fucked-up life experience, family obligation was either boring or a living hell.
But Ridge and Frankie were right. Brogan was family now and this was his kid sister. He was proud of her. Being in the M.C. meant being there when bullets were flying or when kid sisters got their degree in whatever the hell, she’d gotten her degree in.
I strapped the booze onto the back of my bike.
And I headed to Brogan’s.
He lived in his parent’s old house on Mihalak and Pearl back in the residential section. I’d crashed there more than a time or two.
Thanks to the profits we were earning from our legit security efforts and the MMA gym we were running; Brogan had been able to buy the family house and move his mom to an assisted living place. In a way, I envied him, having a plan for the money. I had zero such plans. It was the first time in my life I had more than two nickels to rub together.
Having that cash was a big thing for him. It meant knowing his mom and sister were okay. Brogan took care of both of them like he had done for me.
I supposed it was a small price to pay, eating finger sandwiches on a Saturday night, for a brother.
As I pulled up to Brogan’s place, I realized I had, in fact, forgotten the ice.
Two
Emlyn
I looked at the certificate again. I did it!
I ran my finger across the black frame. My tough-as-nails brother had insisted on putting it in a frame. I would not have done that on my own, but now I was glad I had.
I did it!
The diploma read: Emlyn Tierney, Early Childhood Education Bachelor of Science Education.
I mean, it had taken me till I was twenty-five, but there were times when I was sure I’d never get out of the house after high school. Instead, I went to Loyola!
Not many people understood what it had taken to get this piece of paper.
When most of my high school friends were going to football games or on dates, I was taking care of Momma. There was no one else to do it.
Brogan was in prison when she took her first turn. She’d left the stove on one too many times for it to be just absentmindedness. He was gone, and I was in high school, and Momma wasn’t herself.
It was dangerous for her to be alone, but it was also impossible to pay for her to be in a nice facility where they could help her. So, I did it. Momma was my full-time job. Momma was my high school.
And then, when Brogan got out, well, I was sure he was headed straight back in, with those evil bikers that had taken over the Great Wolves.
But then something changed. The dark cloud that was over Brogan and his crew, well, it lifted.
That’s all I really know.
Finally, Brogan took the load. Almost overnight, he was able to help.
He paid for Momma’s spot in Hickory Acres. He insisted he owed me and would pay for Loyola. I was able to commute and still get the best degree out there.
My dreams that were snatched away because I had to take care of Momma were given back to me. Thanks to Brogan.
And I did it! Here I was! With a degree in hand.
I was going to work at the pre-school and daycare at Zablocki Corners. I’d done a lot of intern work there. I knew it inside and out, and it was here, in Stickney Forest. I could give back to the neighborhood that raised me.
It was a big dream; one I didn’t think would ever happen when it was just Momma and me and no one to help us. Then Brogan did what Momma always believed he could. He became a man, not a thug. He lifted us up on his big brother shoulders.
I still couldn’t believe it sometimes.
My dreams were looking much more possible, and I was grateful.
I did it! But it was my big brother Brogan, and the change in his life, that had made the change in mine happen. I would never forget it and I felt like I could never repay it.
When he said, buy a frame, and wear a dress, we were celebrating, I did as he asked.
Even though I was embarrassed that I had a few school friends. I certainly didn’t have enough of a circle to fill this house for a party.
“Look, I realize there were no parties for you when you were seventeen and taking care of a mom with early-onset dementia. Let’s fix that, a little.” Brogan wanted to fix a lot when it came to my life. But it was okay. I liked having a protector after being on my own.
Brogan was more excited for me than I was.
“You did it!” he’d said when they handed me the certificate.
And now, well, fine, we’d have a party. The place was filling up with tough guys in leather, the kind of guys my mother thought would land Brogan in prison. And they had. But it turned out just because they were in leather didn’t mean they had to be breaking the law.
Brogan said Great Wolves Chicago was legit now, whatever that meant. I even heard people thank Brogan and his crew for making Stickney Forest safer. It was something.
I wish Momma understood that. But there was a lot she didn’t understand these days. It was the dark cloud over this happy day.
Momma was in a better place. It was cheerful, bright, and the experts there didn’t stress her out. Sometimes when she understood that she should know our names, and she didn’t, she would cry. It was better that she didn’t have that weight. And the good days? Well, the good days she knew exactly who we all were. The sun would peek out and shine bright.
I looked in the mirror.
I had picked a pale peach dress I’d found at Goodwill. It had a ribbon at the collar and came in at the waist and flounced out at the hem, which skimmed my knees. I wore a pair of nude princess heels and was about as dressed up as I got. Brogan told me to shop, but I wasn’t going to spend good money on fancy clothes.
Sorry, I was a bargain hunter, that wasn’t going to change even if he’d given me money to buy a dress. I was my mother’s daughter on this.
Brogan said that Mom would have insisted I get a nice d
ress and graduation party if she could. I nodded and bought the dress for ten bucks. My job would require a lot of leggings, and things that I didn’t mind getting glue, snot, or finger paints on. I didn’t need to spend money on party dresses. This was perfectly fine. To keep Brogan happy, I even curled my hair for a change.
Our Dad? Well, we just didn’t talk about him anymore. It was better that he walked out on Mom. I thought about him a little today. He’d have screwed this party up, gotten drunk, or yelled at Mom for her outfit, or for mine. I shook my head and my hair bounced a little. I wasn’t used to having down.
My hair was brown with a bit of red in it, just like my Momma’s. Normally I kept it in a pony or top knot, but right now, all fixed up, I looked a lot like Momma. Or what she used to look like, before.
I came downstairs and Brogan noticed the resemblance too.
“You look like her when we went to the Christmas Tree lighting, do you remember?”
“I do, big brother.” For a second, my tough, gigantic, and to most people, scary as hell, big brother looked like he was going to cry!
I decided to take full advantage of that fact. I walked up to him and squeezed him in a hug. He squeezed back. And then he put both hands on my shoulders and had me step back.
“You’re going to ruin my reputation as a heartless badass. My club is on the way. They’ll be on their best behavior. Or I will crack skulls.”
“Awesome, we don’t have to worry about entertainment then.” I hugged Brogan again and he bristled.
“Thank you, Brogan, you made this happen.”
“You took care of Mom when I couldn’t. I owe you. Now stop thanking me. The guys can’t know I have a soft side.”
