by Miranda Bee
Table of Contents
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
Unnamed
CHAOS
By Miranda Bee
Devin:
My heart ached, and it burned with hellfire. This was what falling in love was like.
***
In all my grand experience, I only ever loved one woman. My mom, who was a saint, was the only woman I ever gave my heart to. She died nearly a decade ago from breast cancer. It destroyed me. I was never the same. I knew she would probably frown at the life I chose to live. She’d probably tell me that I ought to think about settling down.
It wasn’t in the cards for me.
I had my code. Beyond that, I was a beast. I’d learned that there were four pillars in life: Eating, liquor, fucking and most importantly, riding. Not all men wanted to make the world a better place. I just wanted to live my life.
Enter Sammy Wood.
I was a violent man. Most people would not understand where I was coming from. I wondered if Sammy could stand to look at me if she knew how bad I was. Despite all of that, I didn’t think she was making a mistake in trusting me. I would never hurt her. I would always protect her if she let me.
I would never be the same. I was falling for her. She was an angel, and I was a devil. What could go wrong?
Sammy:
You are not a devil and I am not an angel. We are just perfectly broken. My jagged edges fit into yours. Together, we’re a complete picture.
***
When I was fifteen years old, my parents got drunk as hell. They ran out of liquor or smokes, or both. I couldn’t remember. They took the car out, like idiots. They were too drunk to realize they’d drove into the opposite lane. Both died, their brains plastered on the inside of the windshield.
A head-on collision with a semi-truck could do that.
I didn’t even cry. That, in and of itself, was more disturbing than their deaths. I wasn’t a psychopath. I just had the unique ability to turn off emotion, like flipping a switch. After a while, I figured leaving it off was the best approach to my careful lifestyle.
I left it off for years, guarding myself against everyone. It was a lonely but predictable lifestyle.
Everything changed the day I realized that, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t protect myself. A new co-worker reacted badly when I rejected his advances. Things went from bad to worse. I was starting to think he was going to kill me.
Enter Devin ‘The Devil’ Winchester.
He was so hot and so off limits. He was my new parolee, fresh out of prison. He wanted me, and I was having a hard time saying no. My careful life was crumbling. Pushing him away was not an option.
I was addicted to the man with the wild blue eyes, and I was risking it all for him. Still, he was holding back. I searched for every truth he guarded. Eventually, I realized that most of our deepest guarded secrets were not secrets at all. They were simply fragile truths. We each had troves of them, bundled up tight in winding fortresses.
There was freedom in his chaos, but with that freedom came a price. What could go wrong?
***
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
©2017, Miranda Bee. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without prior written consent from the author with the exception for a fair use excerpt for review and editorial purposes.
This title is full of steamy scenes that some folks may find offensive.
This novel is a stand-alone romance with no cheating and a guaranteed HEA.
Table of Contents
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 1
Devin “The Devil’ Winchester
Three years earlier
Appearances played a big role in life. From our tattoos to our patches, we were playing a part. Sometimes I wondered if I was really an outlaw or just another subject to the rule of society. You couldn’t avoid the rule of appearances no matter how hard you tried, or how hard you lived. I lived damn hard, too. A new bottle of whiskey and a new woman every goddamned night.
Except for tonight, that was. Mathias had given me a job. I could be brutal, at times. That was my signature. Mathias gave me the dirty jobs because he knew I could handle it.
I waited for my mark, patiently. He was some dumb-fuck who started a small MC, thinking he knew what the life was all about. They called themselves The Young Bastards. It was our job to police assholes like him. The Young Bastards, and groups like them, were loose cannons and gave us a bad name. Us, as in The Sons of the Shadow, were at the top of the pack. We were the 1% who’d like you to believe we behaved ourselves. Nothing was further from the truth.
We were a large group of organized chaos comprised of men and women who lived by the unofficial code of the outlaw. We had an appearance to uphold. When those little mom & pop MC’s started up, it was just a matter of time. They would fuck up. The Sons of the Shadow were well known and subject to scrutiny. That was why we had to police smaller groups. We only had so many contacts with the local police force. If shit got out of hand, their constituents would demand they crack down on us.
These Young Bastards got into a brawl with some civilians and burned down a local night club. Rumor has it that the whole damn fight circled around a woman. Women, though I loved them in my own way, were a poison I was smart enough to avoid. Fucking was one thing. Fucking was the only thing. Friendship was harmless, too. Love, on the other hand, was a mistake you’d never catch me make.
One of their patched members fell in love with a woman who was spoken for and that was it. A complete shit-storm erupted. The Young Bastards threw four Molotov cocktails through the front window and nearly killed everyone in the club. Our connections in the department warned us that we’d better get a handle on it before they were forced to. Like I said, it was all about appearances.
We needed to make the public think that MC’s were an asset to society. We needed them to think all the vicious bikers died with the 70’s. They had to believe that the dark world associated with gangs like ours was only seen in modern times on the big screen.
They were wrong, of course. We were the succubus that came in the night. I was a vicious man.
So, I waited outside a little dive bar in the middle of nowhere. The dirt lot around the bar was packed with bikes and shitty muscle cars.
The bar itself, an old building with peeling stucco walls, was alive with music. Neon lights glittered in the windows.
He went to take a piss in a thick of trees just outside the bar, separating himself from his fellow hooligans. He was the founder of the gang. His name was Dennis Whittaker. I always made it a point to get familiar with the man I was about to kill. He grew up poor in a small town in Southern California. His parents were shit. Now, at the age of 25, he was shit, too. He’d been arrested several times for DUI and one Felony Domestic Assault in the presence of a child.
He qualified. I had a code. He wouldn’t see any compassion from me.
That was my moment. I snuck up behind him, covered his mouth and disarmed him. I was expert muscle, patched in one of the most notorious brotherhoods in Southern California. He didn’t stand a chance. He was tenacious, I’d give him that. He put up a decent fight, considering.
In the trees, his muffled screams were lost in the dense throng of towering oak trees. They didn’t call me “The Devil’ for no reason. Maybe ‘The Reaper’ would have been more appropriate. If I lived by my code, I couldn’t feel the sting of guilt. He was a hothead who’d gotten himself into hot water. I had to execute justice because his irresponsibility was bad for business.
I left him there, gargling hot blood in his mouth.
I went home. Home, for me, was the clubhouse, at least for the night. It was my birthday and I had a sweet little present waiting there for me.
***
A woman I’d known off and on from parties stood before me wearing nothing but a thong and my leather vest. She held a cupcake with a single red candle. She smiled, the curve of her breast highlighted by the flickering amber light of the candles she’d set up.
Happy birthday to me!
I was 28 years old. In all my grand experience, I’d loved only one woman. My mom, who was a saint, was the only woman I ever gave my heart to. She died nearly a decade ago of breast cancer. It destroyed me. I was never the same. I knew she’d probably frown at the life I’d chosen. She’d probably tell me that I ought to think about settling down.
It wasn’t in the cards for me.
I had my code. Beyond that, I was a beast. I’d learned that there were four pillars in life: Eating, liquor, fucking and most importantly, riding. Not all men wanted to make the world a better place. I just wanted to live.
I’d have my little birthday cupcake. I’d take that woman, too. We’d fuck. We’d sleep and fuck some more. That was all there was to life, as I saw it. She knew the life and she was trying to get patched. Apparently, fucking me was a strategic move for her. I was all right with that. Nothing was ever free.
***
In the morning, ironically, I went to take a piss and was greeted by an officer and Mathias. Mathias was the founder of The Sons of the Shadow. He was like a father to me. He and officer Randal leaned against the squad car and shared a smoke.
“Do I want to hear the news?” I asked, yawning.
Mathias frowned, “You went too far.”
“Or you didn’t go far enough,” Officer Randal added.
“Oh, you gotta be shitting me?!” I groaned.
I grabbed the smoke from Officer Randal, took a drag, and then listened to them explain how fucked I was.
My mark had survived the night and named me, outright. I was completely fucked. I was going to prison. Officer Randal was one of our contacts, and my mistake had forced his hand. If I’d killed the little shit-head, I wouldn’t be caught in this wake of trouble.
The police had to appear to have a handle on the situation. Mathias would have to say I was a bad apple and that he in no way endorsed my behavior. Appearances. If The Sons of the Shadow were put under a microscope, all my brothers and sisters would rot away in some obscure federal prison. I wouldn’t let that happen. I understood how things worked.
Officer Randal slid the cuffs over my wrists, the clicking sound made my stomach turn. Shit.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, but your hands are soft. Softer than I expected.” Officer Randal said.
Mathias laughed.
“Careful Randal, I could kill you a hundred different ways while in these cuffs.”
“I’m just saying, is all.”
“Devin, you’re like a son to me. You know I’ve got your back. We will make this sting a little less. You sure as shit ain’t getting put away for attempted murder. You have my word,” Mathias slapped me on the shoulder and sighed, “I’ll be seeing you.”
Chapter 2
Devin “The Devil’ Winchester
Present Day
I got sentenced to three years in a private prison, which was really fucking fantastic. A felony assault charge was a far cry from what really happened. I spent those long three years working out and thinking. I thought about a lot of shit.
I missed my brothers and sisters. I missed women. I missed my bike. I missed my freedom. I missed Mathias, who really was like a father to me. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably rot in this prison cell.
When I was little, my real dad seemed like a fucking hero. Of course, it wasn’t long until I realized he was the exact opposite. He had it bad for alcohol and couldn’t control himself. I got that from him. I had his wild nature coded in my DNA.
He was an abuser. He controlled my mom, meticulously. She wasn’t allowed to have friends, a phone, or money. Fuck, he’d hit her in the face with his closed fist and then mock her for crying. Then he’d hit her again.
My mom, the sweetest lady you could ever meet, was like an angel in a den of demons. She would be destroyed if she had ever known how bad I was. If she’d ever realized how much I was like him, she’d probably die of a broken heart. I was grateful she was shielded from that.
I never let my darkness hurt an innocent soul. The assholes that I buried or beat deserved worse, trust me. They were poison, just like me.
I looked like my dad, too. I had his crystal blue eyes, his pale skin, and his wiry beard. My physique was a carbon copy of him, 6 foot 3 inches and solid muscle body. The older I got, the more I heard his voice in my own. The eyes, though, they were the most telling.
Whenever I looked in the mirror, I saw his eyes. It wasn’t just the color, it was the look. Windows were the eye to the soul and in mine were swelling, restless oceans of chaos.
Suddenly, I realized I’d been lying to myself.
I was too fucked up. That’s really why I never got too close to anyone. Certainly, no woman would ever hold my heart. It wasn’t just to avoid the drama that came with women. It was for her own protection, too. If I were an honest man, I’d admit that I had been thinking about falling in love with each passing month in this shit-hole prison. I wasn’t an honest man, though, and I couldn’t settle down.
I didn’t have an outright urge to destroy this imagined woman, but I had the logic to guess that I’d lack control. It was easier to claim that women were leeches and anchors if you let them get too close. It was harder to explain the latter: I was my father’s son. He lost control and he became the devil incarnate.
It could happen to me. It wasn’t worth the risk of violating my code.
My code was all about drinking, fucking, fighting, and riding. It was the life, summarized in four words. My code also had moral stipulations. I decided, as naturally as I breathed, to never hurt an innocent. I would never hurt a woman like my dad hurt my mom. I’d never hurt a child like my dad hurt me.
The only way to guarantee this was to never settle down. I hadn’t slowed down for a moment and it was an incredible ride.
Still, I sometimes wondered what it would be like. To have a lady who loved me and a child who I could devote myself too. Sometimes, it seemed like death to the life I’d grown accustomed to. On the other hand, it seemed exciting. It would be an adventure, a challenge.
“Thank Christ I’m getting out today,” I grumbled.
Three years, though shorter than I deserved, left too much time to think. Here I was, taking my last shit on this si
lver throne thinking about life and feelings. It wasn’t good.
Thankfully, Mathias had a welcome home party commissioned for me at the clubhouse. I’d be drinking, laughing and fucking by the night’s end. It could not come a moment sooner. I needed to get back in the game.
***
At the clubhouse, the music was loud and the company was good. I was so happy to be back. I sat at the bar, feeling the music vibrate from the floor to my toes. It was a beautiful clubhouse, too. A rustic two story building with leather furniture and worn hardwood floors. The ambient lighting coupled with the smiling faces of my brothers and sisters were like heaven on earth.
You couldn’t really hear anything over the music besides the muffled rumble of happy chatter. I was finally home. I wouldn’t fuck up again. I didn’t want to end up back in prison. For the first time in three years, I was free.
I was overwhelmed with hugs, stories, and smiles. Everyone was so happy to see me and wanted to fill me in on everything that had happened over the last few years. I couldn’t keep everyone’s stories straight. Overall, they were happy I was home. Grateful, actually, because The Sons of the Shadow had recently endured some hardship.
You grew to expect that when you lived the life. You could take two steps forward but then you’d have to take two steps back. Something was different this time, though. Every person I talked to mentioned a brother who was patched while I was in prison. His name was Oliver. He was killed, recently. They all thought it was shady. He’d been transporting goods across territory lines when he was ambushed, almost perfectly, by The Snakes.
The weird thing was that we weren’t violating any of their regions. This was a simple trade with an allied MC, yet The Snakes intercepted. They took him out several miles away from their territory. It was strange.
I shook off the thought that there might be some corruption in The Sons of the Shadow. I enjoyed the rest of the party. A sexy little tart made that easy for me, too. She smiled at me from across the room, lifting her shot glass. I’d never seen her before. She was most likely a guest of a patched member. She tossed her shot back and walked over to me.
