Losing Bash: Extended Cut (Charon MC Book 9)

by Khloe Wren

  The club whores were trying their best to entice me into letting them cheer me up but I couldn’t go there. Couldn’t even think of touching a woman who wasn’t Lydia. It was fucked up. Not only was she on the other side of the damn country, but we’d only shared one night together and I was all hung up on her like a lovesick pup.

  That’s how I came to be sitting on the edge of the bed in my room here at the clubhouse. Avoiding everyone’s good intentions as I drank a beer and stared out the window at the star-studded night sky while the noise from downstairs floated up through the floor. Lost in my numbness, I didn’t even check who was calling when my phone started ringing before I answered it.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, man, heard about your ma and wanted to pass on my condolences.”

  “Thanks, Riggs.”

  “How you holding up?”

  I didn’t answer. Mainly because I had no fucking clue what to say.

  “Shit, man, you got everyone worried about you.”

  That caught my attention and pulled away a little of the fog clouding my mind. “Whatcha mean by everyone? And worried about what?”

  “What the fuck do you think I mean? Spoke with Arrow, told me you got offered your patch and turned it down. That true?”

  Closing my eyes on a sigh I stretched out my neck before responding. MC brothers were worse than a pack of schoolgirls when it came to gossip.

  “I didn’t turn it down so much as I haven’t accepted it. Been a little busy to give it the thought it deserves.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Moses. You forget all you told me while you were up here? Let me see if I can take a guess at where you’re at. You haven’t been back to your house since you lost your ma. You’re crashing at the clubhouse, but avoiding everybody and everything as much as you can. You still working or have you abandoned that too?”

  Bastard saw too much. “I’m still working.”

  My words were little more than a growl. I didn’t like he’d pinned me so well.

  “Last time we spoke, you mentioned wanting a fresh start. Nothing is holding you down there now, why not come up here for a while? Nothing has to be forever, man.”

  I drained the last of my beer. He was right, dammit. I’d been feeling like I was stuck in survival mode before Ma passed, now she was gone I was still just going through the motions. Not living. Just breathing.

  Something had to give. Take the detour.

  “Your ma would want you to live, to find some fucking joy in life. For fuck’s sake she’d want you to find your heart. Dammit, I’m starting to sound like Parrish.”

  I had no clue what to say to that. I’d heard Parrish go on about finding your heart when I’d been up in New York. Was Lydia my heart? Was that why I couldn’t quit thinking about her, even when everything else in my life had ground to a halt? A blast of anger fired through me that Riggs had me over-thinking everything so damn much when I just wanted to be left the fuck alone. Who the fuck did Riggs think he was?

  “You fucking done psychoanalyzing me?”

  “You ready to man the fuck up and buy a plane ticket yet? Take the motherfucking detour already.” He paused and a sigh carried over the line. “Look, I didn’t call to bust your balls. Tonight, at church, I brought up your situation and Wolf took a vote. Everyone agreed you could prospect here if you choose. Of course, Wolf would talk to Scout about it too, but if that’s what you wanted, it could be done. It’s your choice, man. Why not take some time, a couple of weeks away from everything that reminds you of what you’ve lost?”

  I was done with talking with Riggs. Bastard was making me fucking think when I didn’t want to.

  “Yeah, whatever. Look, I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Right, well let me know when you want a pick up from the airport.”

  He hung up and I reached over to put my phone and the empty bottle on the bedside table before I flopped back on the bed.

  Fuck my life. I didn’t want to make any kind of decision. I was back to being that fucking little kid hoping to wake up and the nightmare to be over. I rubbed at my eyes as they stung with emotion at the thought of living the rest of my fucking life without my mother in it.

  When my phone chimed with a message, I nearly ignored it, not wanting to see whatever Riggs was pulling now. But within minutes, my curiosity got the better of me and I snatched up the device. It was a video message. However, it wasn’t from Riggs but an unknown number. Clicking into the message, my breath caught when an up-close image of Lydia’s chest filled the screen, her low cut top revealing the slight swell of her tits, making my mouth water. The camera moved and focused on her face. Her pouty lips and sad eyes drew me in just like they had every time I’d seen her.

  “Hey, cowboy. Heard about your mom I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am and let you know I’m thinking about you. I wish we lived closer so I could give you a hug. Anyway, I hope you’re okay.”

  With that she blew me a kiss and the message ended.

  Fuck me, but I missed her.

  Suddenly my decision became clear. Like somehow, between Riggs and Lydia, a switch had been flipped within me and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

  Where I needed to go.

  Who I needed to see.

  Take the motherfucking detour.

  Opening up Google on my phone, I looked up plane tickets and booked the next available, which was unfortunately not until the morning. I was done sitting around here, lost in memories. Riggs had been right. Ma wouldn’t want me to just fade into oblivion now she’d gone. She’d want me to live my life, have the grandbabies she always wanted me to give her. Even if she’d never meet them.

  I then shot a text off to Riggs.

  See you at Newark at 10:30am tomorrow

  Within seconds I got one back.

  About damn time. C U soon.

  With a smile, I set about shoving the few things I’d brought to the clubhouse in a bag. I’d head home and pack up enough for a few weeks. I still wasn’t sure if permanently moving to New York was what I should do, but a few weeks up there to decide wasn’t going to hurt anything. If, after a few weeks I decided to stay up north, I’d come back, hand my cut in to Scout and get the house dealt with, then ship the rest of my stuff up there before flying back myself.

  For the first time in months, I had a solid plan and damn, it felt good. I actually felt lighter on my feet as I made my way downstairs to the main floor to start searching for one of the club officers. I found Arrow out by the fire pit and he rose an eyebrow at the bag over my shoulder as I approached.

  “Made your decision then?”

  “Yep. Gonna fly out in the morning, head north for a bit. See how I like hanging out with the Knights. I’ll be back in a couple weeks, either to pack up and move for good or to settle back in here. Is that going to be okay? Or do you want my cut now?”

  Arrow gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Keep your cut, Bash. You come see us in a couple weeks when you get back and feel free to call any one of us if you need anything at all. You understand?”

  While trying really fucking hard to not get emotional, I gave him a nod. “Of course.”

  “Right, well, it’s your last night here so let’s knock a few drinks back to celebrate. Go drop your bag someplace and get your ass back out here.”

  I was going to miss the men and women of the Charon MC, but I had a good feeling about this detour and couldn’t wait to see where it was going to take me.

  To Be Continued...

  Bash is headed to New York and Khloe is handing over the reins to Janine Bosco.

  Read his full-length novel, Shifting Gears and find out what happens when he crosses paths with the Satan’s Knights MC.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Shifting Gears

  Blurb:

  They’re called one-night stands for a reason. If you’re lucky, there’s a lot of mind-blowing sex and then you never have to see or speak to the person again. It’s fun and uncomplicated. In my case, Bash highta
iled it to the airport the next morning so I definitely never expected to run into the former prospect for the Charon MC again. But when his mother passed, he dragged his pipes all the way from Texas to New York, and now he’s crashing at the Satan’s Knights clubhouse. Which also happens to be where I work and the scene of our one-night crime. If I thought forgetting the orgasm champ was hard before, it just became damn impossible.

  Grief can shake a man, make him question his whole damn life and have him taking chances he never thought he’d take. Chances like moving to Staten Island, New York. Chances like prospecting for a new club. Chances like being around a certain fiery bartender who has been in my head since we shared one incredible night. Even though I should be completely focused on earning my colors, there’s a part of me that wants to chance chasing Lydia Gallo for more than one night. I want to break down her walls and uncover every one of her secrets...patch be damned.

  © Copyright All Rights Reserved 2019

  Shifting Gears

  By Janine Infante Bosco

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  SHIFTING GEARS

  Prologue

  Lydia

  “Shit,” I hiss as the glass tumbles out of my hand and crashes to the floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Another fine mess I’ll have to clean before I go home. Dead on my feet, I mutter a curse and drop to my knees, carefully avoiding the shards of glass.

  When I first took the job at Big Nose Kate’s I thought it would be a piece of cake. Okay, so I wasn’t actually licensed bartender, big deal. I made a mean margarita and I could pop the top off a long neck with the bottom of a lighter. I was totally qualified for the job. Or so I thought. I had no idea I would be working for the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club. I mean, an Italian woman by the name of Maria Bianci interviewed me and there wasn’t a stitch of leather to be found on that woman. She was all class. Then I met her son-in-law, the actual owner of the bar. Riggs or Tiger, depending on his mood. He was most definitely a biker. He had the vest, the rank, and the gunshot wounds to prove it. As intimidating as my new boss was, he was also a real ball buster who lived to crack jokes and impregnate his girl. He didn’t care that I wasn’t licensed, and I soon learned the bar was more of a front for their clubhouse. It was open to the public, but I mostly served the club and they drank the hard stuff. As long as I kept their glasses full, I was golden.

  It wasn’t until a couple of days ago that I really started to wonder if I had lost my fucking mind by taking the job. The Satan’s Knights were in a heap of trouble and housing a club from out of town. The former president of the club, Jack Parrish, was due to surrender to authorities when his wife was injured in a car accident. They soon discovered the Sinaloa Cartel had been responsible for Reina’s accident and the new president, Wolf, also Maria’s man, put the entire club on lockdown. I didn’t know what that meant and to be fair, I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. I was just the girl behind the bar getting everyone wasted. What the fuck did I care about some drug lords? The Knights, the Charons, Moe, Larry, and Curly...they were all buzzed. A job well done on my part if you ask me.

  I didn’t realize how serious things were until Wolf told me I couldn’t leave, that no one was going anywhere until he was a hundred percent certain it was safe. At first, I laughed in his face, annihilating any chance of becoming an employee of the month. In my defense, I was on the heels of a thirteen-hour shift and I was sure the big beast of a man was pulling my chain. The laughter quickly died on my lips when he slid the deadbolt into place and ordered me back behind the bar. Instantly, the memories of a life I escaped resurfaced, and I was no longer the quirky bartender trying to get by. Instead, I was the terrorized woman who stood in her husband’s shadows. A woman who knew nothing but fear, torment, and abuse. The next drink I poured was for myself and I made it a double. I reminded myself that I was safe and hundreds of miles away from the pain and suffering. Nothing and no one would ever touch me. I spent the last two years making sure of it, of making sure there were no traces of that life to be found. What was happening here, had nothing to do with me. I was just a victim of circumstance in this situation.

  In the days that followed things were intense, and I was suddenly grateful to the women of the club who provided me with clean clothes on the daily and somehow managed to keep my mind from wandering to that dark forbidden place. The men were pulled in different directions and came and went as duty called. They were working closely with the other club and at one point I found myself curiously staring at the Charon left in charge of guarding a bunch of books. He went by the name of Bash and I told myself I was only intrigued by the literature that held his attention and not his soulful blue eyes that kept mine. He was quiet and expressionless but there was an intensity to him that made him just as lethal as the rest of the bunch. Solitude wasn’t a choice, it was a means of survival for me, so it was crazy and completely out of character for me to be interested in anyone. Especially a man. But there was something about him. Something that called to a part of me I thought was buried.

  Earlier today the Knights and the Charons neutralized the threat and the ban to leave the bar was lifted. However, instead of everyone clearing out of Kate’s, they all decided to hang around and celebrate the fact they were alive which meant more hours on the clock for me. Luckily the Charons were leaving in the morning so the boozing wrapped up a little while ago. After I clean up all this broken glass, I’m out of here. I don’t care if Jesus Christ himself walks through the door and asks for a shot of bourbon. He can use his powers to pour his own drink.

  “Need a hand?”

  At the sound of the deep southern drawl, my body instantly locks and my gaze shoots to the man hovering over me. Bash’s blue eyes pierce through me and the exhaustion I felt only seconds ago suddenly flees me. I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes out as he drops to his knees in front of me. His eyes leave mine as he makes quick work of picking up pieces of broken glass and I study his features, taking in his angular jaw that’s covered in a days growth of scruff and the slightly crooked nose. The more my gaze wanders, the more intrigued I become. He has a full sleeve on his left arm, and I wonder if it curls around his shoulder, if the ink travels towards his chest or maybe down his back. I bet he has an incredible back full of taught muscles that leads to an even more incredible ass.

  The thought shocks me and I immediately tell myself to take a step back and put some distance between us. But I’m paralyzed by him and the realization is unsettling.

  Lydia, cut it out.

  Knowing I’m close to undressing him with my eyes, I shake my head and finally will my feet to move. I blame my newfound attraction to the quiet Texan on exhaustion and rack my brain for something to say but the first thing that pops into my head is boxers or briefs. Note to self: don’t engage in conversation with a man while tired.

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I stammer, silently praying he doesn’t want another drink. My eyes drift to the top of his head, focusing on the fitted black baseball cap. He hasn’t taken the damn thing off since he’s arrived only sparking my curiosity more. Judging by the lack of sideburns I think it’s safe to say he’s not keeping much hidden under there.

  Other than my husband, I’ve only been with two other men. None of them have been bald. If you’re not threading your fingers through their hair while they’re fucking you, what do you do with your hands? Clutching the sheets is for romance novels. I need something to hold on to. He’s got nice shoulders. I suppose they’ll do.

  “Thank you,” he quips, lifting his head slightly. Startled by the sound of his voice, I watch as his hands still. His eyes find mine under the rim
of his hat and there is a glint of humor in a sea of blue.

  “For what?” I ask confused.

  “You said I have nice shoulders.”

  Fuck, Lydia, you’re a mess.

  There’s no use in denying it so I shrug my shoulders in response. I mean, he does have nice shoulders.

  Oh my God! Time to go.

  “Do you have a dustpan or something to get these little pieces?”

  “You don’t have to do it,” I say, finally coming to my senses. “You helped me out enough tonight,” I add, recalling how he jumped behind the bar earlier to help me man the hooligans. I tried to shoo him away, but he kept at it for a good while before he was called away to say goodbye to Scout. Apparently, the president of the Charon MC got himself booked on a separate flight back home. If we ever cross paths again, I’ll be sure to thank him for leaving this fine specimen behind for me to ogle. At least now I know my libido isn’t dead.

  Scrambling to my feet, I grab the tiny broom and pan from under the bar. I guess I was too busy counting the minutes until I could leave and breaking glasses to notice Bash had returned. Dropping back to my knees in front of him, I move to sweep the rest of the mess but his hand closes over my wrist.

  “I’ve got it,” he says softly, prying my fingers from the dustpan and broom. “You look like you’re about to drop.”

  “I’m fine,” I argue, reaching for the broom again. He moves out of my reach and diverts his attention to the task at hand, pushing all the tiny pieces into a neat pile.

  “I’m observant,” he continues, sweeping every scrap of glass into the dustpan. “You’ve been running on empty for days, darlin’.”

  An objection sits on my tongue as he rises to his full height, shifting both the dustpan and broom into one hand as he extends his free one. Feeling defeated, I huff out a breath and slide my hand into his. The simple touch of his fingers against mine shakes me to my core and I try to recall the last time I didn’t flinch at a man’s touch.