by London Casey
Broken
A Back Down Devil MC Novel
London Casey
Karolyn James
Contents
Welcome to world of BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB
Broken
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
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Broken
A Back Down Devil MC Novel
She's the only one who can fix me... but getting involved with her could destroy us both...
HUDSON: Riding is the one thing that makes me feel alive. But when a SUV slams into me, I'm left with a messed up leg. And if I can't ride, I'm out of the MC. My only chance? A physical therapist named Cora. She's nothing like what I expect. Beyond her wildfire stare and curves that don't quit, she's got an attitude that's mean but keeps me coming back for more. I know I should keep my distance... but how am I meant to do that when I'm walking with one hand on her shoulder and the scent of her is all I can think about? And when she spills a dark secret to me, I have to help her. Even if that means exposing her to the world of the MC. Even if it means telling her how I feel...
CORA: The second he comes crashing into my life, I want him out. I do everything to get him out, but he won't leave me alone. He's nothing but six-six of wild danger, yet I can't look away. He's getting to me and it's not because I want to help him. It's because I want him to help me. Nobody knows what I've done... until I confess it to him. Our worlds suddenly collide - between the sheets and out in the streets. I was supposed to save him, not put him in greater danger. I've found a man who is willing to die for me... and he's about to do just that...
1
HUDSON
The car flew up to the convenience store so fast I thought it was going to smash through the glass windows. I turned and put my hands up as though I had the ability to control the car. Lucky for the store, the car stopped. It wasn’t parked in an actual spot, but that was better than making an even grander entrance.
I had a ten on the counter, and the young man behind the register was visibly shaking. He was afraid I was going to steal the pack of smokes or the money out of the register. I could have reassured him that the club wasn’t in dire need of cash, and even then, it would take something big to have us resort to knocking off the local stores. The guy probably had a few hundred bucks and nothing else.
“Just this,” I said, and I put my finger to the ten and slid it across the counter.
“Sure, sure,” he said.
He looked around.
He was waiting to see if I was with some of my brothers.
“I’m all alone, brother,” I said. “Now take my money and give me my smokes.”
That’s when the guy behind the counter decided to get some balls. He had a little fake gold name tag read Jeff.
“I don’t have to help you,” he said with a little more confidence. “I know who you are.”
“What gave it away?” I asked, grabbing at my Back Down Devil MC leather cut.
“I know what you do.”
“What I’m doing is paying for a pack of fucking smokes. And you’re standing here with your thumb up your ass.”
Before Jeff could say another word, the door to the store opened. A little old bell rapped against the glass a few times.
I looked and saw two men. One in a jacket, the collar flipped up, hands in his pockets. He had a red beard and dark eyes, and he stepped to the side for his partner to come forward. I didn’t get a good look at the second guy because the first and only thing I noticed was the sawed-off shotgun in his hands.
“Ah, fuck,” I muttered.
All I wanted was a pack of smokes.
2
CORA
* A WEEK AGO *
I looked out the window to my car, half-expecting to see someone digging around inside it. That would never happen, though. Any criminal would take a look at my car and know there was nothing worth value in there. Probably a couple dollars in loose change, and that was it. But there was an envelope full of cash under the passenger seat. Nobody knew about it except me and one other person.
All I could do was wait for the money to disappear.
Then I could breathe. Then I could move forward with my day and with my life.
At least until he called again.
“Hey, Cor.”
I spun around, spilling coffee over the edge of my mug onto my hand. The coffee was room temperature and didn’t even come close to burning me. I had poured the cup a few minutes ago and just stood there holding it. I never drank coffee except in the morning.
“Leslie,” I said, smiling.
“Your one-thirty is here. And someone named Alex called for you. A woman?”
“Right,” I said. “Thank you.”
My one-thirty was an elderly woman named Beatrice, and she was on the mend after tumbling down her back steps and breaking her hip. She was a fighter, making amazing progress. As for Alex, that was my neighbor. She took it upon herself to insert herself as my best friend in life, always wanting to show me the wilder side of things. Because my bitching-partying Friday night usually consisted of studying up on materials to do with muscle movement, bone healing, and any changes in the world of physical therapy.
I dumped the coffee and washed my hands. I then pulled my hair back and tied it. I slipped out of the break room and moved to the left instead of the right. I just had to see to know if he’d come or not. Having him lingering in my mind like some evil shadow would distract me for the rest of my day.
Outside, I hurried across the parking lot, hugging myself like it was the dead of winter. Only there was no winter here. The cold days were ones that touched the fifties. Snow only happened high up in the mountains, way up north. It was my dream place to live, complete with my dream job.
Except I let a nightmare creep in and hang out.
When I got to my car, I ripped open the driver’s door and dove inside. I probably looked like a fool to anyone watching me, but I didn’t care. I leaned over the seat and stuck my hand under the passenger seat. I felt around for the thick envelope, but it wasn’t there. I pulled my hand away to show some crumbs and the clear wrapper to a piece of candy.
The envelope was gone.<
br />
The money was gone.
That meant I was paid up.
At least for now.
I didn’t like the whole bar scene, but Alex needed a night out. And that was me talking. Her boyfriend got his text messages mixed up and revealed that he had been seeing another woman for the past month. Not that they were serious, but it was serious enough that Alex took it to heart. She was always worried about the way she looked, dressed, talked, the way she ate, walked, everything.
She sat at the bar, sipping a tall beer.
I leaned in and bumped my elbow to hers. “If you’re looking for fun, smile. I can’t imagine anyone chasing you down when you’re crying.”
“Bitch,” Alex said with a half-smile.
“Weren’t you the one who said he wasn’t up to size?” I asked.
That got a full smile from her. “Yeah, true.”
“Well, look around. I’m sure there’s at least a few guys who meet your height requirements.” I winked.
I turned and started to scan the bar. I didn’t do this kind of life, hooking up with random guys. Picking up men at a bar. I hadn’t been on a real date in months, and that had ended up being a work-related disaster with a guy named Darrel who’d just sat across from me at a fancy restaurant and talked about his favorite therapy techniques for someone with a knee replacement.
And as far as bedroom activity went…
There’d been just a one night stand that I swore I’d forget, but couldn’t.
In the corner of the bar, I noticed a group of guys taking up a booth and a pool table.
I felt Alex nudge me. “Don’t look that way.”
“What? Why?”
“Those are the outlaws,” she whispered. “You don’t want that kind of trouble. And that’s me talking.”
“What do you mean outlaws?”
“Back Down Devils,” Alex said. “They’re bikers. They run the town and everything in it. Like a mob or something. I don’t know. Everything that goes wrong in this town is their fault. They’re all criminals, if you ask me.”
At that exact second, there was a guy lining up a shot. He was bent over the pool table, giant arms bulging out of a t-shirt. Tattoos cascaded down his arm, but they weren't enough to hide the thick muscle. His head snapped back, and he looked right at me. He had a cigarette between his lips, lit, the smoke furling up, swirling in front of a sign that clearly read NO SMOKING.
I was paralyzed.
We were plenty far apart, but I had the sudden feeling that he was right up against me. His body pressing against mine.
The right side of his lip curled up a little in a sly grin.
He then looked forward and took his shot. I heard the clank of the pool balls but didn’t bother to look or care if he made his shot.
“Turn around,” Alex said. “That’s trouble nobody needs.”
I turned around, but it was too late. I was on his radar.
It took him all of two minutes to appear next to me with one of his buddies in the motorcycle club.
He pushed his way through the person next to me. I watched as this guy looked at the biker and quickly stood, put his hands up, and walked away. Such easy power.
The biker glanced at me, then looked forward.
The bartender moved with lightning speed to tend to the biker.
“Make it two,” his biker buddy said. “Hey, Hudson, get this one for me, huh?”
So then I had his name.
Hudson.
“Out of money again, Cash?” Hudson asked. “You need to stop paying for pussy. Earn it like a real man.”
Hudson glanced at me again.
My face was burning hot. He was big and vulgar.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash. He threw it to the bar as the bartender brought two beers.
“Keep that,” Hudson said. “Treat her to a drink.”
He was talking about me.
I shook my head. “Uh, no.”
Hudson turned and leaned against the bar. He seemed like he was twenty feet tall and with muscle to match his size. When he looked at me, I was terrified and warmed over the same time. But my mind knew better. It was guys like this who made my life what it was now. I thought about the money in my car. All my hard work being stolen from me.
Because of people like this.
“You don’t want a free drink?” he asked me.
“Nope. I’m here with a friend. I’m her driver.”
“Then drink water.”
“That’s free.”
He smiled.
Yeah, he was killer sexy, but the word killer seemed to ring in my mind with something darker.
His biker buddy—Cash—grabbed his shoulder. “Ah, poor guy. She ain’t biting tonight, huh? Let me have a go.”
Hudson shook Cash away. He took his beer and stomped out of the way. Now came another biker. He was really grungy looking, borderline dirty. I expected him to smell like dirt, but he actually smelled pretty nice. Leather and cologne, the allure of the bad boy.
“Hey baby,” Cash said. “I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. It’s hard to walk around with a dick like mine.”
Cash reached his hand out to touch me. I froze in place when I should have punched him in the mouth.
Hudson grabbed Cash. “Let’s go, brother.”
“No, no,” Cash said. “I’m going to eat this pussy ‘til she forgets her name.”
I was appalled.
He reached for me again.
That’s when something finally snapped in me. I stood up and threw a punch. I didn’t know how to slap, but I knew how to punch. I hit the biker in the jaw and felt a jolt of pain shoot through my arm. He barely budged, and of all things, he smiled.
“Come on,” Hudson said. “Leave her alone.”
Hudson pulled Cash away and got right in my path one more time.
He just stared at me, his eyes telling me his mind was racing with intentions that could indeed make me forget my name.
But it would never happen.
He was a criminal. He was an outlaw.
There was no way it would ever come close to happening. Ever.
I held my ground as the bikers walked away.
Hudson and Cash didn’t even look back at me once. To me, that meant I was already off their radar.
In the two minutes all that took to happen, Alex had already cozied up to some guy. I was secretly hoping she’d be ready to leave and call it a night, but there was no such luck.
I was trapped in the bar with Alex, her new friend, and the bikers.
A short while later, the bikers all threw their pool sticks down and hurried to the door. They were suddenly gone, the outside thundering with the sound of their motorcycles, even over the chatter and noise of the bar.
I drank water and wished it were something much stronger.
I wished I could have punched Hudson, too. Hell, I wished I would have punched all of them. Fucking outlaw bikers.
But I would soon find out…there was no escaping them.
3
HUDSON
I tackled Jeff to the floor as the first shotgun blast went off. It blew apart a wall of cigarettes. We were rained on by paper, glass, and the smell of tobacco.
“Do whatever they say,” I told Jeff.
“I knew it,” he said. “Bad guys! All of you!”
“This isn’t my crew, asshole,” I retorted.
I grabbed for my gun, and Jeff sat up, kicked himself back into a corner, and began to hug his knees. I looked under the counter and found the emergency button that would call for help. I pressed it and stood up, gun drawn.
Yeah, my handgun wasn’t a match for a shotgun, but what the fuck was I going to do? Like hell I’d just sit there and wait for these pricks to come shoot me.
There was a brief standoff, and I realized these guys weren't here to rob the place. They were here for me. For the club, for the cut, to send a message. The leader, the guy without a gun, was as Irish as th
ey came. I curled my lip, thinking about our on-again-off-again friendship with the Irish, wondering if something had slipped through the cracks. It took serious balls to bring a war right into Daurian, but these two assholes were doing it.
Mr. Shotgun pumped the weapon and pointed it right at me. His buddy pushed the gun away, giving me another few seconds to breathe.
I wasn’t in the business of playing games, though. I was a goddamn outlaw. My goal in life was to survive. I needed to get out of that fucking store and get some backup from my brothers. I shouldn’t have been riding alone to start with, but shit had calmed down in town, and I needed a pack of smokes.
“Aye, you get the picture?” Mr. Irish said with a thick and sloppy accent.
Now it was my turn to make a statement. I moved fast, pointing my gun at Mr. Shotgun. I pulled the trigger two times, blasting his shoulders, sending him stumbling back. He lifted the shotgun, fired, and hit the ceiling, taking out a light.
On the floor, Jeff let out a babyish scream. “Why the fuck do you people just shoot each other all the time?”
He was squealing, voice crackling like his balls were starting to drop during puberty.
I made a dash for the back of the store. I put my gun away, trading it for my phone. I called Cash and told him where I was and what was happening. Moving outside the store, I still had to find a way to get to my motorcycle and get out of there. Years of surviving taught me to use my instinct to get through anything. I never parked my ride out front of a store. My two-wheeled beast stood at the side of the store, waiting for me. By the time I got to it, the two men were rounding the corner of the store. Mr. Shotgun had given up his duties to Mr. Irish. And Mr. Irish was not afraid to pull the trigger.
I pointed my gun back and he did the same. We were both taking pop shots, trying to out-scare the other as I got my motorcycle fired it up, ready to ride. I lowered my head down and took off, crouching down the side of the store and cutting left through an alley.
