Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology

by Knox, Elizabeth

  Twisted Steel

  An MC Romance Anthology

  Addison Jane

  Erin Osborne

  Nia Farrell

  Chelle C. Craze

  Dani René

  Amy Davies

  Elizabeth Knox & E.C. Land

  Claire Shaw

  Scarlett Black

  Rae B. Lake

  Contents

  Addison Jane

  Rein

  Erin Osborne

  Vault’s Loss

  Nia Farrell

  Book

  Chelle C. Craze

  Slaying Camille

  Dani René

  Torn Between

  Amy Davies

  Reckless Angels MC

  Elizabeth Knox & E.C. Land

  Alluring Allies

  Claire Shaw

  Fierce Love

  Scarlett Black

  Twisted Fate

  Rae B. Lake

  Becoming Vexx

  Twisted Steel

  This book(s) is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book(s) may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

  Rein. Copyright © 2020 by Addison Jane

  Vault’s Loss. Copyright © 2020 by Erin Osborne

  Book. Copyright © 2020 by Nia Farrell

  Slaying Camille. Copyright © 2020 by Chelle C. Craze

  Torn Between. Copyright © 2020 by Dani René

  Reckless Angels MC. Copyright © 2020 by Amy Davies

  Alluring Allies. Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Knox & E.C. Land

  Fierce Love. Copyright © 2020 by Claire Shaw

  Twisted Fate. Copyright © 2020 by Scarlett Black

  Becoming Vexx. Copyright © 2020 by Rae B. Lake

  Cover design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Content Editing by Courtney Lynn Rose, Knox Publishing

  Copy/Line Editing by Kim Lubbers, Knox Publishing

  Formatting by E.C. Land, Knox Publishing

  Proofreading by Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Created with Vellum

  Rein

  A Club Girl Diaries Novella : The Brothers by Blood MC

  Addison Jane

  Prologue

  Phee

  “Dammit,” I cursed as the brush fell to the bottom of the shower with a heavy thud.

  Blood droplets raised to the surface of my skin, and I quickly moved it under the spray of water, trying to wash them away and soothe the sting.

  I held my breath.

  Waited a few seconds.

  Water sprayed across my face as I crouched down to pick up the coarse bath brush, starting the process all over again on the opposite arm. My entire body by this stage was red and raw and aching, just the way I wanted it to. The kind of way where the physical pain completely overwhelmed the mental.

  I’d done this so many times, it was almost automatic. My body was on autopilot. The rough- bristled brush scrubbed back and forth, each pass scratching and scraping at layers of skin, breaking through the surface.

  It stung, it ached, but I couldn’t stop.

  I needed it gone.

  I needed to get clean.

  I needed to get the feeling of his hands off my body.

  “Hey, Phee.”

  I pulled the shower curtain back, poking my head out from behind it to see Anna’s gentle smile. She stood just inside the bathroom door, her arms wrapped around her waist, and her body coiled in on itself like she could actually feel the pain I was in.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” I croaked before clearing my throat and forcing a smile. “It’s been a long day.”

  She stalled for a moment, waiting a few extra seconds like she was going to call me out on my lie, but eventually, she shook her head and backed out, pulling the door closed with a soft click. I knew she could see right through me. Anna had been my foster sister for almost two years. She was pretty, young, and vulnerable just like me.

  And just like me, that was exactly what he looked for.

  That was exactly what he preyed on.

  Climbing out of the shower, I grabbed my damp towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door. We were only allowed one clean towel per week, so Miss Kenneth didn’t have to do piles and piles of laundry, and given that I’d already had three showers today, I was surprised the towel wasn’t actually dripping onto the floor.

  As I made my way through the motions, I felt like a zombie. After drying myself and putting on the clean clothes I’d picked out, I tipped some of the dirty clothes out of the wash basket and placed mine in before covering them back up.

  I needed to hide them.

  That’s what I’d been taught time and time again.

  Hide the evidence, so no one asked questions.

  My stomach churned as I placed them inside, the bile suddenly rising in my throat. I rushed to the toilet, bracing my hands on either side as I expelled the contents of my stomach into the bowl. My stomach squeezed over and over again. Unfortunately, there was nothing left inside, and the only thing that came out was a green color which tasted like pure stomach acid.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to stem the flow of tears.

  “He’s never going to stop.”

  My heart leaped up into my throat, and I spun around to find Anna standing inside the bathroom with her back pressed against the door. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto her baby blue t-shirt, the one that made her eyes look like they were a clear sparkling ocean.

  “I’m pregnant, Phee,” she croaked, a devastating sob suddenly wracking her tiny body.

  My knees gave way under me, and I crumbled to the floor, not caring that my knees hit the tiles with a hard thump, sending a sharp pain shooting through my entire body. I might have broken something. But at that moment, it was the least of my worries.

  We just stared at each other across the tiny bathroom, neither of us bothering now to fight the tears. I didn’t give a shit if I’d spent the past couple of years having it drummed into me that tears were weak, or that crying was never going to get us a better life. That there was nothing, and no one, in this world who gave a shit if I sobbed or whimpered or broke into a million pieces.

  “How do you know?” I whispered. My body felt like it was numb, my hand moving to rest on my stomach.

  “I stole a test from the dollar store,” she murmured, her body sliding down the door and onto the cold tiles. Her eyes were wide and distant, staring into the space above my head. “I’ve not been feeling well, and… Miss Kenneth commented the other day about me looking like I was getting fat.”

  My eyes drifted down to her stomach.

  Anna was slim—not just slim, but naturally a little on the skinnier side.

  It had been something I’d often commented about, wondering where she stashed all the food she ate. I guess I hadn’t noticed the change until now, or she’d done a fucking amazing job of hiding it from me. But looking at her now, her stomach was definitely rounder.

  My heart skipped again, and I pushed onto my hands and knees, ignoring the excruciating pain that shot through one knee which drew a gasp from my m
outh as I crawled across the floor toward her.

  My hands shook as I reached out, lightly brushing my fingertips over the outside of her tank top. “Anna, how far along are you?” I asked in horror, lifting my gaze to her face.

  She was still staring past me, her face blank, pale, frozen. “I think I felt it move yesterday,” she whispered, licking her dry lips before she finally blinked and moved her eyes to meet mine. The look shining back at me was pure fear. Her hands cupped the tiny bump protectively, her thumb caressing back and forth. “What do I do?”

  Run.

  That was the only response I could think of.

  The truth was, though, it was a question I just didn’t have an answer to. It was a question neither of us should have ever had to consider.

  I’d just turned fourteen.

  Anna—she was a whole year younger.

  And now there was a life growing inside her.

  Neither of us was anywhere near adults, nor should we be making adult decisions.

  Not ones like this, anyway.

  We were kids.

  Just babies.

  Babies, having babies.

  “Girls! Get out of the bathroom… it’s dinner time,” Miss Kenneth, our foster mom, called out while smashing her fist against the door. “Hurry up.”

  When I heard her footsteps disappear down the hall, I lurched forward, throwing my arms around Anna’s neck and pulling her against my body. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine. We’re gonna get through this. We just have to make it through dinner, then tomorrow, we will make a plan. I promise.” I pulled back, placing my hands on her cheeks and looking her in the eyes.

  She smiled, her eyes red and bloodshot, looking like she was completely and utterly petrified. Her hand grasped my arm so tightly, her nails were digging into my skin.

  She wasn’t the only one who was terror-stricken.

  And all I could think of in that moment was I needed to get my hands on a fucking pregnancy test.

  1

  Asher/Rein

  “Man, I think I’m gonna like this weather,” Bandit beamed, his head thrown back and his eyes pinched closed.

  He’d found his place, shirtless and spread out atop a picnic table while music blasted from the outdoor speakers.

  I couldn’t argue.

  The sun on my skin was scorching, but it felt fucking good.

  Phoenix was definitely a whole different world from Montana.

  The weather was different, the feeling was different—it was simply new, and I kind of fucking liked it.

  “You guys need another beer?” Angel asked, sliding up next to me with a tray of beer and a sweet smile. I placed my empty glass on the tray and took a full one. “Bandit?”

  He lifted a hand, not even bothering to open his eyes as he waved her off.

  “Sorry, he doesn’t say much.” I nodded, lifting my glass. “Thanks.” My eyes followed her as she walked back inside, her hips swaying seductively as she slipped through the crowded clubhouse, while I fought the urge to adjust the front of my pants. Angel was a club girl here. She was young, beautiful, and intelligent, but honestly, I didn’t expect anything less.

  When it came to having women around the club, the Brothers by Blood MC tended to air on the side of caution. They didn’t bring in just anyone. They wanted women who weren’t looking to be claimed or patched, or who would ‘accidentally’ get pregnant to trap a brother into paying for the lifestyle she wanted.

  A situation I was all too familiar with.

  If you were part of the club, representing it, then you had to have your shit together, your head fucking on right.

  And it looked like Phoenix had that shit right.

  Thank fucking goodness because my best friend, Bandit, and I had just patched over from the Brothers by Blood Chapter in Montana, and I already fucking loved it here. I wasn’t about to be a second-generation fucking fool like my father was.

  Shaking my head, I took a sip of my drink, enjoying the way the cold liquid soothed the burning heat for a few seconds. The Brothers by Blood clubhouse here in Phoenix was alive and kicking, our welcome party in full fucking swing.

  “If he lays there much longer, he’s going to be three shades of crispy,” Shake, the club’s Vice President, noted as he walked over, a short glass in his hand with some dark liquid and ice cubes. The President, Shotgun, was right behind him, the liquid in his glass clear.

  I scoffed, looking over at my sleeping friend. “He’ll soon learn then, won’t he?”

  Shotgun smirked, his head bobbing. “No regrets moving on, then?”

  “I could try and make something up if you’d like,” I offered with a shrug. “Let’s see, ah… I miss not being able to feel my fucking fingers for six months of the year. Or… I miss shoveling fucking snow just so we could get the bikes out of the sheds.”

  Montana had been a learning experience.

  I grew up in Montana, and Bandit and I had been attached at the fucking hip since he moved in down the street when we were eight, and started causing hell and destruction and anything else that made life in our small town slightly more fun. But we’d been patched in for a good three or so years now, and it was time to move on. We needed to start to see what else was out there, find our own place.

  “I don’t got a single fucking regret,” Bandit cut in, pushing his body into a sitting position. He grabbed his shirt from where he’d been using it as a pillow and pulled it on over his head, letting it hang around his neck. “I wasn’t raised in the cold. So, it’s nice to get back to a temperature that feels somewhat fucking normal.”

  “Montana was normal,” I jested, hiding my grin behind my glass.

  “Not being able to ride for months at a time is not fucking normal,” he argued, scratching at his face. “Neither is being able to break off parts of your beard because it’s frozen over after riding down the highway.”

  Shotgun chuckled softly while Shake nodded, narrowing his eyes for a second as if he were concentrating. “You grew up in Puerto Rico, right?”

  “Yeah, Mom was Puerto Rican, Dad was from Cincinnati,” Bandit explained, grabbing his drink from the table and throwing it back. I cringed, knowing it must have been warm as hell, but he didn’t even flinch. “They both taught English down there when they met.”

  “You don’t speak with an accent,” Shotgun inquired with a raised brow.

  Bandit screwed up his nose. “My dad spent a lot of time protecting my mom from prejudice and racism. When I learned English, he made sure I spoke it without the accent so people wouldn’t instantly judge me. It was a good idea, but I’m proud of my heritage, and I wish now I had the accent so I could tell people to go fuck themselves if they look at me funny.”

  “He tried to get the accent back,” I added with a wicked grin. “But now he just sounds like an American doing a bad Puerto Rican accent, so it sounds almost like he’s the racist one.”

  “You’re a dick.” Bandit sighed, shaking his head while Shotgun and Shake chuckled at the banter between us.

  This was what it was constantly like.

  People would have to get used to the cheap shots.

  Shotgun suddenly paused. His eyes lighting up for a second, a brief moment passing between him and Shake, who was silently taking us in.

  “You still speak it fluently?” Shake asked, his head tilted just slightly.

  “Yeah.”

  Our new president nodded. “Good. That could come in handy for some business we have planned.”

  Bandit nodded, snapping a salute. “I got you, man. Already fucking love it here.”

  Shake turned to me. “What’s your damage?”

  “Mom was a hooker who saw an opportunity to get rich,” I answered simply. I’d become pretty damn numb to my story. “Dad’s a real estate developer in Cali. Worth millions. She got pregnant with me, lived off his child support payments, mostly to feed her damn habit.”

  There was no love lost for that woman who I called my mother. She was m
aking hundreds every week, and we were living in a little one-bedroom apartment with nothing but some clothes, one bed, and an old television. I slept on the tiny sofa when I was home because she used her bedroom to entertain men throughout the day and night. That was how I ended up hanging around the Brothers by Blood MC.

  Mom’s sister was an old lady at the Montana chapter, and when she saw the way we were living, she practically moved me in with them.

  She helped run the club’s ranch, which ended up being where I earned my road name.

  Rein.

  “When she overdosed, my dad got custody, so I moved to Cali for a couple of years to play happy family with his new wife,” I continued, my nose crinkling.

  Bandit couldn’t help but laugh like he did every single time I told this story. “And tell them how that turned out.”

  By this point, a few other brothers had joined our little lesson on my life. Myth, Repo, and Crush joined our small private party, listening intently.

  “Ended up screwing my stepmom for about a year behind my dad’s back before he caught on and threw both of us out.” Not my finest moment, but I was a fucking teenage boy who kept having his cock grabbed underneath the dining table by a woman twice his age.

  Yes, I was fucked-up.

  I accepted that.

  “Shake?” Repo’s old lady shuffled in with a smile. “Meyah’s upstairs feeding Juliet, but she said your cell has been ringing over and over.”

  Shake’s brow knotted, and he instantly slipped away, his heavy boots thumping hard against the ground as he made his way inside the clubhouse and up the stairs. I knew so far that Meyah was his old lady, and they had a little one who was a few weeks old. The old ladies here were young—fucking beautiful—and down to earth.