A Lighter Shade of Blue (Kings of Chaos Book 2)

by Colt, Shyla

  Kings of Chaos 2

  A Lighter Shade of Blue

  Shyla Colt

  Published by Hot Ink Press

  This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ©Text Copyright 2015 Shyla Colt

  Cover Art by Dreams 2 Media

  Edited by Leanore Elliot

  Edited for Hot Ink by Elizabeth A. Lance

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Playlist

  Out of the Black: Royal Blood

  Hell Yeah: Drake

  Moment for Life: Nicki Minaj Ft Drake

  My Chic Bad: Ludacris

  Caught Out There: Kelis

  Afraid: The Neighbourhood

  Long As I Can See the Light: Creedence Clearwater Revival

  One More Night: Maroon 5

  Bad Blood: Taylor Swift

  Glossary

  Cut—vest worn by Motorcycle Club members.

  MC—Motorcycle Club.

  Old Lady—Like a wife/ long term girlfriend.

  Sweetheart/Sweetie—Girlfriend or someone a biker is dating.

  Sweetbutt—Name of a girl who hangs around the club and is always available for sex. Can be the “Property of” one of the members.

  House Mouse—Depending on their temperament they can be given as gifts to an old lady. They are used to clean up and do chores.

  Positions

  President—Leader of the Chapter.

  Vice President—Second in charge. Fills in when President isn’t around.

  Sergeant at Arms—Basically the club’s policeman. He enforces club policy and procedures in meetings.

  Enforcers—There to help the Sergeant at Arms do his job. They often stand guard at meetings.

  Secretary—Responsible for the club’s paperwork, including club records.

  Treasurer—The chapter’s money man. He collects club fees, pays bills, etc.

  The Wise One—He often looks after the club’s spiritual needs. He’s often referred to as the “Chaplain”.

  Road Captain—He’s usually in charge of the logistics of the club. IE: Planning routes, fuel stops, etc.

  Asst. Road Captain—Assists the Road Captain.

  Patch Members (Riders)—Members who’ve earned the right to wear the club’s color after paying their dues as a Prospect. They’re also known as Patches or members.

  Nomad—A club member who doesn’t belong to any particular chapter.

  Prospect—Man in training to become a member of a Motorcycle club after a probationary period.

  Acknowledgements

  Cover photo courtesy of Sara Eirew

  Cover Design courtesy of Dreams2Media

  Editing by Leanore Elliott for There For You Editing

  Dedication

  To everyone who took a chance on me, and encouraged me to go for a longer story. Blue appeared one day, and I knew I had to push my boundaries to get her story just right. I hope you enjoy getting to know her as much as I did.

  Crissy S, Sammy, Leanore, Melissa, and all the beta readers who shared their thoughts and time, thank you for everything.

  For my Mom who made me believe I could do whatever I set my mind to. This is the type of story I always dreamed of writing.

  Chapter One

  My Sister’s Keeper

  Blue

  I slump down in the bucket seat of my black Charger, delivering a mental pep talk as I gather my courage. It’s past time I tell Jamie I think we need a break. We’ve been doing the exclusive dating thing for over a year, and week by week I’m dying a little bit more inside. The man is everything I said I wanted. The total package most women pray for.

  Jamie Rolf Stevenson is dependable, mature, successful, and attractive. Hell, he’s even taller than me. At five foot eleven inches, that isn’t always the easiest requirement to fulfill. With his light brown hair cut close to his head, an easy smile, and large, dark blue eyes, he’s a major catch.

  I understand this. So why am I thinking of stepping back? Why do I feel completely suffocated?

  When we get intimate, it’s like the air is being sucked from my lungs as I force myself to make the proper sounds and whisper the right words of encouragement. My stomach rolls and I know I’m at the end of the line. I can’t push this back any longer.

  No matter how much I try to deny it, the truth is there, staring me in the face. Mr. Perfect doesn’t do it for me. No amount of getting to know him better or focusing on his best qualities will change the fact that he doesn’t get me wet. Achieving an orgasm with him is akin to running a marathon: long, arduous, and completely exhausting. I can stand being intimate with him, but there’s no passion, at least not on my end. Sex aside, the organ that beats within my chest remains traitorous. I love him as a friend, nothing more. Shame rolls through me. I’m still not over my little girl dreams.

  I hate to prove that bitch right. I sneer as I think of the mocking jeers from my sister, Calla, when she first met Jamie.

  “There’s no way that prep gets you wet and makes you feel like a woman. You come from Psycho Strong, the same as me. It takes one hell of a man to measure up to our daddy.”

  I told her off at the time. Guess I’ll be eating crow now. Treat it like a band aid and rip it off. Properly psyched, I put on my big girl panties, exit the car, and make the short walk up the stone path cutting through his immaculate yard. I climb the three steps to the front porch and knock.

  The door opens to reveal Jamie, aglow with joy. His blue eyes sparkle and his grin is downright blinding in the fading sunlight.

  “Did I miss something?” I ask.

  “Today is a special day,” he says.

  I mentally run through my calendar. It’s not an anniversary, his birthday, or a holiday. I frown. “You want to fill me in?” I ask, forcing a smile. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end. The clues are telling me this is about to get awkward as hell.

  “You’ll see.” He takes my hand and guides me inside.

  I blink, adjusting to the dim lighting. A trail of rose petals leads away from the door and disappears into the kitchen. My gut clenches. I turn to him and realize he’s wearing a suit. “Jami—”

  “No, relax. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

  “I don’t want you to take care of me,” I say, quickly back stepping. I have a sinking suspicion what he has planned, and I want no part of it.

  Jamie frowns. “Why is it so hard for you to accept affection from me?”

  “That’s not true. You’re one of the best huggers I’ve ever met. I tell you that all the time.”

  “Yes, it is true. That’s small. I’m talking big picture. If I buy you anything, it’s too much. If I treat you to nice things, you get uncomfortable. Like I’ll hold it against you later. I get that you come from a rough background—”

  “Can we just not do this?” I ask, instantly put on edge.

  The Kings of Chaos have always been a bone of contention between us. He doesn’t understand the lifestyle or the reality I live in. People think it’s like the shit they see on the television, or a choice. One you’re born into, and short of leaving everything you know behind
to go somewhere no one knows you, it’s a label that sticks for life. I happen to be proud of that. You never have to walk through life alone. How many people can say that? Not many. Sure, it has its downsides. What in life doesn’t?

  “Are you telling me I’m wrong?” Jamie asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

  The defensive position and the challenging tone rub me the wrong way. I didn’t come here to fight.

  He huffs.

  My lip curls up involuntarily. Bitch. There lies the core of my issue. I need a man. A masculine man who could take care of business when necessary and make me feel secure and feminine. Jamie doesn’t do that. He can’t. His cookie cutter life hadn’t taught him the lessons mine had. It’s what makes us incompatible romantically. “You’re talking about something you know nothing about.”

  “I know plenty.” His eyes flash with an anger I’ve rarely seen.

  I take a step back, unsure what he’s going to do next.

  “I love you, Blue. I want to marry you.” He drops onto one knee in front of me.

  All I hear is white noise and the blood rushing in my ears. My vision fades. I sway and catch myself.

  Grabbing my limp hand, he brings it to his chest. “You had to know this would happen soon.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My throat closes. I’m choking on all the things I failed to say when I had the chance. My pocket vibrates. “Hail to the Chief” blares from my speaker. “I-I have to take this, it’s my dad. He never calls.”

  And I’ve never been so happy to hear from him.

  I all but run to the front door, stepping outside and answering, “Hey, Dad, what’s going on?”

  “Blue, I need you to come home.” His voice is low and sad, the way it always is when he has something completely fucked up to tell me.

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  “I’d rather talk to you in person.”

  My stomach drops. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “We’ll see you then.” He hangs up.

  The sudden silence in my ear is suddenly deafening. My stomach rolls. Who did we lose this time? I close my eyes. After shoving my phone back into my pocket I step inside, semi-shell-shocked. “I-I have to go, something happened and I need to be with my family.”

  “Of course you do,” he growls.

  “Hey, I didn’t plan this!” I snap, furious.

  “I know, I know. Just…just think about it,” he says. He holds his hands together as if he’s praying.

  “I don’t think I should. We’re not right for one another, Jamie.”

  “We could be if you’d allow it,” he says. His words have bite to them.

  I cringe. The outburst isn’t like him. He’s pissed.

  He takes a deep breath. “Do me this one favor, take some time, and weigh it out, Bluebell. We get along. We have a good time, and I know we’d make excellent parents. I could provide for any children we’d have and you if you wanted to stay at home.”

  The bastard went for the jugular. I’ve always loved kids. I grew up taking care of them. It’s second-nature, and the main reason I took up Child Education in college. What if he’s my only chance at a regular family? Am I willing to give that up? There’d be no runs to keep Jamie away for weeks at a time, no King chasers to worry about, and no raids by the cops on our home. Doubt makes me hesitate. Do I need passion to be happy? “I—”

  “No, go take care of your family. When you have an answer you’re one-hundred percent sure of, come back to me.” He pauses and pulls out a black velvet box. “I want you to wear this.”

  “I-I don’t deserve this, Jamie,” I say, mentally begging him to stop.

  “You do, and that’s what kills me. You can’t see it.” He shakes his head and pops open the case. Nestled on a bed of silk is a princess cut diamond that I know costs a pretty penny. He grabs my shaking hand, and slides the ring home. He kisses my cheek sweetly and places a hand on the small of my back. “Go. I’ll see you out.”

  I walk to the door feeling like I’m wearing cement shoes. No matter how hard I try to pave my own path outside of KOC, I’m constantly caught in the middle. In the end, for me, all roads lead back to Kings of Chaos. They’ve shaped me more than I want to admit. I’m numb as I pull away from the driveway wondering what the hell lies in front of me and what I’m leaving behind. My mind is a tangled mess of briar patches. I’ve grown dependent on Jamie for more things than I should. He’s my symbol of normalcy in a world that’s anything but ordinary. My peace in the midst of a storm. Maybe that’s love. I’ve never seen a healthy example of it. Perhaps that’s why it feels foreign? Time is the ultimate decider. One way or another, I’ll uncover my truth. I put my foot on the gas and flirt with the speed limit as I travel across town.

  I pull up in front of a two-story stucco house with a magnificent yard. It’s not what people think of when they imagine the home of someone in a motorcycle club. With its well-maintained yard, porch swing, and flowerbeds, it screams upper middle class. I throw my car into park and clamber out. My adrenaline is running high, and I’m still tailspinning from Jamie’s bombshell. My hands shake as I unlock the door and step inside. “Hello?”

  “In the kitchen, Blue,” my dad calls out.

  I lock the door behind me and jog down the hall into the kitchen.

  He’s sitting next to my mother at the massive island she finally got him to install when I was ten. The years have been kind to my parents, considering their harsh lifestyle. Pop’s hair is still more pepper than salt, and slicked back from his face. The lines around his eyes and mouth are deep, due to sun exposure and long hours on the road. At six foot two, he still seems larger than life to me.

  His mouth is set in a scowl, and his hazel-colored eyes are full of sadness.

  “Pops?”

  My mother reaches over and grabs his hand, giving it a squeeze.

  My legs shake and I grip the counter to remain upright.

  Her heart-shaped face is puffy, and her brown eyes are red. “It’s Cal.”

  I hold my breath. Is this the moment I’ve feared since she hit sixteen? “She’s dead, isn’t she?” I whisper.

  My mother wails.

  “What? Fuck no, Bluebell! Why the hell would you say that?” he barks.

  “Because she’s been out of control since she hit sixteen, Pops! Can we not ignore the elephant in the room for once?” I say, furious that they always take up for her no matter what she does.

  “You best watch your mouth, little girl.” My father’s voice rumbles in his chest and his eyes narrow.

  Now I know I’ve pushed him into the pissed off zone. I sigh. “What did she do this time? Why did I have to rush over here? Do I need to bail her out again? Or maybe it’s watching my nephew? No, no let me guess,” I hold up one hand, palm out, “you need me to go collect her drunk ass from another bar.”

  “You hate her so much?” my mom asks between sobs, all quivering lips, and tear-filled eyes.

  “No, I’m just over her behavior. I don’t feel sympathy for the way things happen to her when she causes it. She never learns, Mom.” I shake my head.

  “I wonder if you’ll be able to sit there so self-righteous when I tell you she’s in jail for drug trafficking. Given her previous charges, she’s looking at hard time,” my father says.

  “Wait—what?” I ask.

  “They caught her trafficking kilos red-handed. She was almost at the border. There’s no explaining our way out of it, and given the hard-on they have for the Kings in this town, there’s no leniency expected. We’ve talked to the club lawyer. He says three years minimum, and that’s with good behavior.”

  My heart thuds in my chest. “But what about Bolt?” I ask, thinking of her son.

  At sixteen, he still needed a full time caretaker, more so than most, given his current attitude. Dad refused to let him live in his house permanently. The feds continuously study his every move, and he feels like they’ll plant something, find it on a raid, a
nd take Bolt away. Unless he rolled on KOC, of course. We all knew how they played the game.

  “That’s why we called you over, girl. You know he can’t stay here with us. They’d haul Bolt out and put him the system so fast, it’d make our fucking heads spin. Shadow still has another six months on the inside for that gun charge. So that leaves—”

  “Me.” Like always. Bitterness wells up inside me. I love my family. I’d do anything for them. But I hate the way I’m placed into the role of cleaner extraordinaire. While Calla lived her life to the fullest, screwing up left and right, I was expected to be the exact opposite. Like my goodness and dutiful law abiding could somehow make up for her rash behavior. I thought when she had Bolt things would change.

  We were all disappointed to find that wasn’t true, none more so than Shadow. I think he thought he could tame Calla. That somehow, attention, affection, and eventually, a baby would change her wicked and wild disposition. Or maybe, she trapped him, thinking he would make her his Old Lady. It might’ve worked if she hadn’t been trying to dick around with other men every chance she got. The quiet man had always been deeper than a lot of the other brothers looking to have fun. He was the kind the King chasers went after, because they knew he’d make a good old man.

  “What do you want me to do, Pops?” I ask, using the childhood nickname to smooth things over.

  “Become his guardian and take care of him.”

  I run my fingers through my hair.

  “The fuck is that shit?” Pop roars.

  I flinch. “What is what?”

  “This.” He grabs my hand, holds it up, and waves it around. “You marrying that yuppie?” he asks, disgusted.

  “I …didn’t get a chance to answer him.”