RENEGADE FIRE

by Jaxson Kidman

  Hey darlin’

  You’re about to read RENEGADE FIRE. Each and every book I write contains a part of me. Some of this is true. Some is this is altered from the original way it happened in my life. Some of it is all wild fantasy.

  Hope you’re ready… I know I am.

  See you on the other side.

  - Jax

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  RENEGADE FIRE

  She wanted a man, I gave her an outlaw.

  It was years ago when I used to pick on the sort-of-ugly girl that lived across the street from me. She was smart though. She got out of town. Me? I stayed. I’m patched into the Bitter Aces MC and we rule the town of Bishop. Nothing or nobody stands in our way.

  When I hear the rumor that Willow’s back in town to care for her ailing grandmother, I need to see it to believe it. The girl next door is now a beautiful woman and she needs a man. I agree to take care of her when she needs me, just as long as she doesn’t get attached.

  Old feelings quickly kick up and before I know it, I’m in a blazing inferno of lust… and just when I least expect it, Willow needs me to save her more than ever before.

  chapter one

  (gage)

  *LATER*

  It all started with a fucking look. But that’s how life changing shit went, wasn’t it? One second you’re drinking a fucking beer trying to clear your fucking mind of the day’s bullshit and the next second you look to your left and it’s like a door to the past had been ripped the fuck open.

  She sat there, staring right at me.

  It took me all of a few seconds to stand up to talk to her. It would take about that amount of time for all the long dead shit to stir back up.

  But before I could get to that part of things, I’d have to fight for her.

  Literally.

  Because someone pulled a knife on me, wanting me dead before I could talk to her.

  chapter two

  (willow)

  *A LONG TIME AGO*

  We could never afford to go to the beach. Daddy left to go on the road and had been gone through one Christmas, one Valentine’s day, one Easter, and one birthday. I didn’t understand how to use a calendar so I used holidays. I thought he was going to come back soon. But he wasn’t. I knew it. Grammie knew it. But Mama didn’t. She would never believe it.

  Mama drank a lot of stuff too. That’s why Grammie was always with us. One time Mama had me alone and we were in the car. She crossed the yellow lines in the road and kept going. We went off the road and the car went into this ditch thing. I screamed and cried fearing that snakes were going to come and get me. Mama told me to shut up. I wouldn’t. So Mama smacked my mouth. Then I shut up.

  After that, Grammie went everywhere with us. She retired from her teaching job early and that was it.

  I really wanted to go to the beach. Just once. See the ocean. Find a shell. But we were far from the ocean. But right outside the town of Bishop was a lake. Everyone went to the lake. The rich people had houses on the other side of the lake. They had boats and jet skis and all kinds of fun stuff. But not on the side we were on. Our side had lily pads and seaweed you had to watch out. I hated the color of the lake.

  And one time, he told me there were monsters in the lake. Catfish the size of me that would swallow me whole.

  He was such a bully. Such a jerk head. I hated him so much I wouldn’t even think his name. So take that.

  Grammie found a beach set of toys at a yard sale. For fifty cents I got a starfish, a cracked bucket, and a small shovel. I was going to build a huge sand castle. I wanted to show Grammie and Mama that I was ready to go to the real beach. We could make it happen. I could stand the long drive. But that probably all cost money. I didn’t have any money. Except on my birthday or when I lost a tooth. Last time though the Tooth Fairy forgot to come. And a month ago Mama took my birthday money for safe keeping but I overhead Grammie yelling at her asking her if she was proud that she stole her daughter’s birthday money for a bottle of booze.

  I didn’t understand that booze and alcohol were the same. Weird, right?

  So Grammie stepped in and started to take care of everything. It wasn’t that bad.

  I pressed the sand into the bucket, making it tight. Grammie said if I did that then the sand wouldn’t crumble. I took Grammie’s advice. She was smart. She was like almost sixty. She said age brings wisdom. I wasn’t sure what wisdom meant. Teeth, maybe?

  I tipped the bucket over and pressed it into the sand. I lifted the bucket slowly and there was a perfect start to a sand castle. It was amazing. Grammie had been right. I looked up and Grammie waved and smiled at me. Mama sat next to her but was sleeping. Mama slept a lot. In fact, in about five years from right then Mama would be asleep while driving. Very dangerous… so dangerous that Mama had to ride in an ambulance, and never woke up again. Ever. For the rest of her life. Well, my life. The rest of my life. She was gone. In the cemetery.

  None of that mattered when I built that first start to a perfect sand castle.

  I admired it. The perfect matching ridges around the top. I was going to build it big enough for me and Grammie to live in.

  We were going to play…

  Out of nowhere a giant hairy monster foot came crashing down into my perfect beginning to my perfect sand castle. In a second, it was a pile of packed sand and nothing else. The foot lifted up, toes curled. The toes then opened, dropping sand like a digger working at a construction site.

  I looked up and saw him.

  He was at the lake too.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Stupid castles. It’s all fake.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to cry or scream. I turned and grabbed a handful of sand and threw it at him. I only hit the back of his legs though.

  He stopped and turned. “Good try.”

  “You’re a bully, Gage!” I yelled. “A fat stupid bully!”

  Gage grinned and winked.

  He was gross. He was always gross. He lived across the street from me and he was always outside because his mom and dad fought all the time. Yelling, fighting, things slamming and breaking. And Gage was always outside, waiting to bully me.

  Grammie told me once that if a boy is a bully it means he likes you.

  Well, if Gage liked me… ew.

  I knew one thing - I would forever hate Gage.

  chapter three.

  (gage)

  *NOW*

  I threw some more ones on the bar and looked up at Ash. She was topless and stared off into space, doing the same old dance to the same old song. We had tried dating three times but they turned into week long sex binges followed by worrying she was pregnant followed by both of us deciding we hated each other. For the record - she never got pregnant, the sex was decent (better when she was drunk), and we never really hated each other.

  Ash dropped to her knees before me and threw her hair back. She licked her lips as the music thumped on. The heavy bass line was enough to jolt a dead man’s heart back to life.

  Crawling toward me, Ash grabbed my leather cut and pulled me close. Her lips grazed my ear.

  “Three seats down, babe,” she said in her rough voice.

  Years of smoking will do that to you.

  “Thanks, love,” I said as she pulled away and grabbed all the cash.

  I threw back a warm shot of whiskey and looked to my brother in arms, Gunner, and gave a nod. We were part of the Bitter Aces MC. We grew up in Bishop and we ran the town. If you fucked with us, you were sc
rewed. We lived by not dying, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do in our line of work.

  We had four of us at the titty bar.

  Me, Gunner, Bret, and Jace.

  Bret and Jace were near the security guards. They would make sure we got the asshole we needed alone.

  Some fucking idiot owed our Prez - Sid - some serious cash. We had a little gambling thing going on and this asshole decided to show up, throw in a few bucks, and then ended up passing table to table, dealing out fake cash, racking up a five thousand debt. That put the MC in a tough position because we had some serious suits there who weren’t happy at our lack of control over counterfeit cash.

  Tonight, we’d send a clear message.

  I stood up and flipped my shot glass upside down. Ash was already working down the line. Shake her tits. Play with her nipples. Throw her head back and groan. The music thumping. The allure of sex. The fantasy of fucking a stripper. And the cash would flow like water downhill.

  I walked toward the asshole and caught sight of something from my right side. A guy in a suit was starting to approach. I quickly stopped and turned to face Gunner. We were way too close for our own good. I grabbed his shoulders and lowered my head.

  “Why’d she leave me?” I yelled, playing it off that I was too drunk for my own good.

  Gunner grabbed the back of my cut. He pulled me away. I grabbed his arm and walked him away.

  “Suit walked up to our guy,” I said. “Maybe private security or some shit. We need to wait until the asshole isolates himself.”

  “Fuck,” Gunner said.

  We both looked back and saw the guy in the suit touch our guy on the shoulder. Our guy gave a wave and pointed to a side door. The suit started to walk, eyeing the entire club as he did so.

  “Definitely hired help,” I said. “We need to get him in the bathroom.”

  “We were supposed to take him out back. Security…”

  “Plan B then,” I said.

  “You and your fucking Plan B shit,” Gunner growled.

  My notion of Plan B saved my ass many times. Being able to think on the fly kept me alive, got me my patch with the Bitter Aces, and it kept me moving. I learned how to think fast from a young age. Nothing like watching your mother and father going ten rounds after getting blasted drunk and you having to be the referee.

  Our guy stood and threw what had to be two hundred bucks to the bar. I figured most of it was fucking fake.

  He gave a wave and blew a kiss to Cassie, another stripper.

  He then started to walk, holding a glass of something.

  “Stay with me,” I said to Gunner.

  “What’s the…”

  I grabbed Gunner’s arm and swung him, sending him flying into our guy. They both toppled over, the drink spilling everywhere.

  “Ah, shit!” I yelled.

  I ran to Gunner and grabbed him. I pulled him away from our guy. Then I grabbed our guy - a snitch prick scumbag named Jimmy - and got him to his feet. His nice shirt was stained red from the drink.

  “Oh, fuck,” I said. “I’m sorry, man. Are you okay?”

  “What the hell was that?”

  “My buddy is drunk as fuck,” I said. I looked back at Gunner. “You, get in the bathroom and clean up. Asshole.” I looked at Jimmy. “I’m really sorry. Come on, get cleaned up before that shirt is ruined for good.”

  I didn’t give Jimmy a chance to protest. I grabbed his boney arm and pushed at him, forcing him toward the bathroom. We crashed through the door and I took him to the sink. His face seemed nervous. Gunner was in a stall, pretending to throw up.

  I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and wet them.

  I patted the guy’s chest, smiling.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” I said. “Fucking asshole, huh?”

  “Yeah, right,” the guy said. “Hey, look, I’m good. I have a car waiting…”

  I dropped the paper towels and reached for the inside of the guy’s jacket. I pulled out a wad of cash and threw it to the sink.

  “What are you…”

  I threw my head forward and smashed it against the guy’s mouth. Blood sprayed everywhere. He flew back into one of the electric hand dryers and he let out a scream.

  Gunner came rushing from the bathroom stall. He pressed the buttons on all the hand dryers to give us a little noise to cover up Jimmy’s screams.

  I hit Jimmy in the mouth and dropped him. I put my foot right between his legs.

  “You fucking move an inch and I’ll twist your nuts off. Got it?”

  “Yes! Yes! What do you want?”

  “You fucking threw down fake money out there, didn’t you?”

  “Shit. Are you a bouncer?”

  I grinned. “I’m worse. I’m a fucking outlaw, you stupid prick. I’m not afraid of the law. I’m not afraid of death. And I’m not afraid of your hired security. Too bad they fucked up by walking away from you.”

  I brought my foot back and kicked Jimmy in the mouth. He grabbed his mouth and fell to his side. I dropped down to one knee and started to unload on him. It was simple. I needed to send a clear fucking message to Jimmy and to anyone else who thought they could fuck with the Bitter Aces.

  The only reason I stopped working him was because Gunner grabbed my arm.

  “That’s enough,” he said, knowing that I was capable of losing all sense of myself and not stopping before it was too late to stop.

  I stood up and shook my right hand. Jimmy was a heap of cries on the floor.

  I spit on him.

  “I expect my money back to me,” I said. “Can you make that happen with a phone call?”

  Jimmy looked at me, moving his mouth. “Yes… I have good cash…”

  “Pay my friend Gunner while I clean up.”

  I walked to the mirror and stared at myself. My eyes were a rich blue color. But my hair was black as night. It was a good fit for me and it worked wonders with women. I never had to worry about pussy. Especially with the leather cut on me. They all wanted a piece because they knew what they were getting back from me.

  I washed the blood off my hands and dried them.

  I turned and jumped up on the sink and took out a smoke and lit it.

  Jimmy was stumbling through a conversation on his cell.

  “Good thing I didn’t break his jaw, huh?” I asked with the smoke between my teeth.

  “You’re fucked up,” Gunner said.

  “Been since day one, brother.”

  I put my head back and made rings with the smoke.

  Fucked up worked for me. It kept me sane. It kept me grounded. Fucked up was in my blood.

  And nothing would ever change that…

  I flipped open the messenger bag and dumped the neat piles of cash out onto the table. Sid moved a whiskey bottle and beer bottle out of the way. He took his fat cigar from his mouth and put it on the edge of the table. Cash fell and scattered to the floor.

  “Jesus fuck,” he said. “This is…”

  “A little extra than owed,” I said.

  “Sit the fuck down, Gage,” Sid said.

  It was just me and Prez. The rest of the guys were either in the clubhouse kicking back or out on the road running jobs for the MC.

  I took a seat, grinning. “What’s up, Prez?”

  “How the fuck did you do this?”

  “A little conversation,” I said. “He didn’t know how to take care of himself.”

  “We’re in the clear of it?”

  “Totally,” I said. “He knows who we are. He’s got nothing. I told him exactly what to tell the police when he made the call. He came home from the titty bar and someone jumped him at the side of his building. Why was he there? He was drunk and couldn’t wait to take a piss. Worked out because he pissed himself when I hit him. So he looks beat up and he smells like piss.”

  “Goddammit, Gage,” Sid said. “Great work, son. Great fucking work.”

  Son.
>
  I liked when Sid called me son even if I wasn't his kid. Shit, the things Sid had done for me were way more than anything my old man ever did other than blowing a load into my mother to create me.

  “So we’re all cleaned up,” I said.

  Sid grabbed the cash. He stacked up what was stolen. Then he took a little for his pocket. He smiled and winked at me. Then he took two stacks and slid them my way.

  “For you,” he said. “For doing this.”

  “Fuck no,” I said. “I didn’t do this for cash, Prez. I did it for honor. For the cut. We voted on it.”

  “Take the extra money, Gage.”

  It had to be over ten thousand there. Hard to pass up, right?

  I shoved it away. “No, Prez. It’s not fair to the other guys. Break it up.”

  “The other guys didn’t lift a finger tonight.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. I stood up. I pointed to the table. “Figure out what’s for the MC, what’s your take, and then the rest split.”

  “Jesus, son,” Sid said. “You’re quite the honorable man.”

  “No. I’m just a dumb outlaw.”

  I walked away from the table. I should have taken the cash but I didn’t need any more bullshit on my conscience. I was good with splitting it throughout the table.

  Gunner was at the bar, waiting for me. We hugged and he asked how it went.

  “Great,” I said. “We’re splitting the cash through the table. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I started to walk away and Gunner grabbed my arm. “Wait up.”

  “What’s wrong now?” I asked.

  His faced dropped. He thumbed behind him to a prospect serving up drinks.

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “Quit fucking around, Gunner. I’m not in the mood.”

  Then Gunner changed the course of my life with one sentence.