by Khloe Wren
SAVING SCOUT
Charon MC
Book 5
Table of Contents
Title Page
Saving Scout (Charon MC, #5)
Books by Khloe Wren
Acknowledgements
Biography
Dedication
Charon:
Prologue
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
EPILOGUE
KHLOE WREN
ISBN: 978-0-9876275-9-9
Copyright © Khloe Wren 2018
Cover Credits:
Models: Darrin James Dedmon
Photographer: Golden Czermak of Furious Fotog
Digital Artist: Khloe Wren
Editing Credits:
Editor: Carolyn Depew of Write Right
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, please delete and purchase it legally. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Books by Khloe Wren
Charon MC:
Inking Eagle
Fighting Mac
Chasing Taz
Claiming Tiny
Saving Scout
Fire and Snow:
Guardian’s Heart
Noble Guardian
Guardian’s Shadow
Fierce Guardian
Necessary Alpha
Protective Instincts
Dragon Warriors:
Enchanting Eilagh
Binding Becky
Claiming Carina
Seducing Skye
Believing Binda
Jaguar Secrets:
Jaguar Secrets
FireStarter
Other Titles:
Fireworks
Tigers Are Forever
Bad Alpha Anthology
Scarred Perfection
Scandals: Zeck
Mirror Image Seduction
Deception
Kings of Sydney: Daniil
Acknowledgements
As always, I have to give a massive shout out to my wonderfully patient husband. Who continues to put up with his insane author wife. And to my girls, as once again this book saw me locked away in my writing cave more often than not.
As always, I couldn’t have written this book without all the help I received with my research. In particular Nicole, Maggie and Dawn.
To the Night Writers Facebook group. Our bond has been tested these past months as we’ve lost two of our own, but the unwavering support I find with you all is such a blessing in my life that I appreciate more than you know.
To my Facebook street team, Khloe’s Kickass Bikers, Beasties and Babes, thank you for your support and help. Thanks ladies!
To all my friends who helped me get back up each time I stumbled while writing this book. Liz Iavorschi (my heart still hurts), Dorothy Shaw, Tracie Runge, Eden Bradley, Elle Boon, Miranda, Dawn and Tamsin Baker, you ladies especially.
To my editor, Carolyn, no matter what I throw at you, you always come through with a marvelous edit. I appreciate everything you do and thank you for another job well done.
To Darrin and Golden, thank you for the awesome image that is PERFECT for Scout.
Finally, a huge thanks to Maranda and Jo Carol for beta reading for me this round.
xo
Khloe Wren
Biography
Khloe Wren grew up in the Adelaide Hills before her parents moved the family to country South Australia when she was a teen. A few years later, Khloe moved to Melbourne which was where she got her first taste of big city living.
After a few years living in the big city, she missed the fresh air and space of country living so returned to rural South Australia. Khloe currently lives in the Murraylands with her incredibly patient husband, two strong willed young daughters, an energetic dog and two curious cats.
As a child Khloe often had temporary tattoos all over her arms. When she got her first job at 19, she was at the local tattooist in the blink of an eye to get her first real tattoo. Khloe now has four, two taking up much of her back.
While Khloe doesn’t ride a bike herself, she loves riding pillion behind her husband on the rare occasion they get to go out without their daughters.
Dedication
For Liz Iavorschi,
Much of this book was written in writing sprints with you by my side, writing your own books. It’s been a week since I learned of your passing, and I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact you’re gone.
Rest in peace, my friend.
Charon:
Char·on ˈsher-ən, ˈker-ən, -än
In Greek mythology, the Charon is the ferryman who takes the dead across either the river Styx or Acheron, depending on whether the soul’s destination is the Elysian Fields or Hades.
Prologue
21st March 1992
Marie
As I fought and screamed at the two men who were trying to pin me down, I wondered why the hell I’d been so excited to come to this damn place. When Sarah had scored us an invite to a party at the infamous Iron Hammers MC clubhouse, we'd both thought we were so cool. At eighteen we were going to go have our first taste of adult freedom. No foster parents to stop us from having a drink, or anything else we wanted to do or try. Everyone knew you could get whatever you wanted at the Iron Hammers MC clubhouse.
It had all sounded so good in theory, but I should have known better than to believe it was going to be all sunshine and rainbows.
The moment I was on the ground, I was pinned down with my arms out flat. I felt the prick of a needle at my inner elbow, then everything went foggy on me. My limbs grew heavy, like someone had tied weights to my hands and feet... Why was I pissed off again? I couldn’t remember, but I knew I was angry for some reason. I frowned as I tried to figure out what had happened.
“Fuck, I hate the ones who fight. Put these two in the back of the room, they'll need a few doses before they'll be any good to fuck.”
Unable to make any sense of his words, I grinned up at him. Suddenly, I was feeling very friendly, but it seemed I couldn't talk. My dry mouth refused to move. Maybe I needed a drink. My gaze landed back on the man who'd spoken. He was kinda hot in a rough, biker way. I scrunched up my nose when he picked me up and I landed over his shoulder. He needed a shower, and I needed a bucket. At the first retch, he threw me down onto a mattress and rolled me to my side so my face was in a bucket. Eww. I hated being sick. Once I was done, he released me and I flopped back onto the mattress. I had a really good, happy, buzz going on, and I hoped it wasn’t going to fade anytime soon.
I was only kind of tracking what was going on around me when my shirt and bra were suddenly gone and rough hands began tugging at my bare breasts and nipples. At the jolts of pain I t
ried to push the hands away. It was interrupting my high, but my arms were so heavy I couldn't be sure I managed to move them, especially with the way my eyes were playing tricks on me. A deep chuckle filled my ears, too loud. I winced and groaned as I rolled away.
“Yeah, another shot or two and you'll be so much more fun, bitch. I'm looking forward to breaking you in.”
His words floated in and out of my haze-filled mind but I didn't really understand them. Nothing mattered. Only this blissful happy place I was in, that I could enjoy now he’d quit hurting me.
Sometime later, my brain started to track what was going on around me. Grunts and groans of men having sex filled the room along with feminine whimpers. Where was I? What the fuck had happened? Carefully, I opened my eyes and when all I saw was blank wall, I rolled so I faced the other way. I bit my cheek to stop myself from reacting, from crying out at what I saw. Sarah was beside me and we were at the back of a small room. Between us and the door were about half a dozen other women. No, these were not women, but girls. Fuck, every female in this room looked to be around my age. And all of them were at least partially naked. One girl near the side wall was groaning and thrashing her head. A man came over to her and made short work of jabbing a needle into her arm. Once the girl relaxed, he tossed the needle into a bucket before going for his pants. I watched in horror as he pulled his stiff dick out, and lifting one of the girl’s legs, he thrust in and began to fuck her. A glance around the room showed three other men fucking equally unresponsive girls. Bile rose up my throat and I closed my eyes against it, focusing on swallowing it down. Someone took my hand and squeezed it. I opened my eyes to see Sarah's scared face. Fuck. We had to be smart to get out of this.
“Pretend to still be high.”
I mouthed the words to her and she gave me a nod, before she released my hand. I forced myself to look relaxed. I half closed my eyes and smiled just a little, hoping like hell I looked like I was blissed out. I didn't want them to drug me again. I also fought the urge to pull my shirt closed. It had been ripped up the center and my bra had been opened. It had a front clasp so I hoped it was just open and not broken. If we did get out of here, it would be nice to not have to walk home with my boobs out. Thankfully my pants were on and intact. I just needed to suck it up and accept that for the moment, my boobs were on display. Whenever one of the men glanced our way, we'd hum and grin a little wider. Relief washed over me when they made comments about us being lightweights and that they’d deal with us later.
We kept our act up, eventually feigning sleep as we listened to the endless rapes that went on around us. There were two other girls at the back of the room with us. When they'd each woken, they'd cried out for help. The help they got was another dose of drugs and more of their clothing removed. Part of me couldn't believe they were falling for my and Sarah's act but I guess with so many girls in the room, they either didn't care or weren't keeping track of which girls had been drugged when. From what I could tell, the men delivered the drugs on an as-needed basis. No one was writing anything down or looking at watches.
Eventually the room grew quiet, and the lights were turned off, save one small lamp in the corner. Well, it was quiet of male voices. The other girls still moaned and groaned... and threw up. But after a while it became clear we'd been left to our own devices for the night―or morning. I had no idea what time it was and this room had no windows. Locking my gaze with Sarah’s, I reached for my bra and fastened it back up before I took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“We need to get out of here. Are you able to move?”
I wasn't sure what they'd given us, I guessed heroin. I'd never had it before so wasn't sure what to expect as far as what happens when you come down off it. I felt a little foggy in my head, but physically I seemed okay. I wouldn't know for sure until I tried to stand up, but I knew better than to even try that while there were still bikers in the room.
“Yep, arms and legs all move. Let's get out of here. Do we try to take the others with us?”
I shook my head. “I wish we could, but they're all too drugged up. We'd just end up all getting caught. No, it's better if just us two escape. We can let the cops know what's going on and they can come save the others.”
In the dim light I saw Sarah nod and take a deep breath. Still holding hands, we rose slowly from our mattresses and began to move around the other girls. I tried to not look at them, their faces and bodies. The smell was bad enough. I knew if we did manage to make it out of this hell-hole, I was going to be having nightmares for a very long time.
By the time we made it to the closed door, my stomach was churning and bile was rising up my throat. I couldn't hold it back. Thankfully, there were several buckets around the room for just that purpose so I leaned over and retched into one of them. I felt like shit. I leaned against the wall for a moment and Sarah rubbed a hand over my back.
“We need to keep moving. We can't get caught.”
She didn't need to say that someone might have heard me retching and be on their way to drug me. I gave her a nod and forced myself to get moving. Taking the lead, I slowly opened the door and peeked out. The hallway looked clear and the whole place seemed quiet. We both slipped out and Sarah shut the door, cutting off the moans and groans. The silence was almost spooky, but neither of us stopped to think about it. On light feet, we dashed toward the front of the building. We passed several sleeping men and a few women on our way, but no one stirred awake to catch us as we made our way out the front door and away.
Without releasing my hold on Sarah's hand, I patted my pockets. The cash I'd stuffed in my back pocket was still there, and my house keys were in the front pocket. Maybe we'd get lucky and find a cab.
Twenty minutes later, because the clubhouse was way out of town, we finally made it home. Unlocking the front door of the dark house, I slipped through first, tugging Sarah along with me.
“And where in the hell have you two been?”
I froze on the spot. Dammit, our foster father had stayed up waiting for us. I couldn't think of a lie that would get us out of trouble, and clearly neither could Sarah as she began stammering about what had happened. It took her a good ten minutes to get her story out as she stood behind me, pressed up against my back. I tried to see our foster father's face, to gauge his reaction, but the room was too dim. When Sarah finished, the room fell into silence.
I held my breath, unsure what his reaction would be. I'd had been living here since I was a toddler. Sarah had come to live here when she was ten. Ron and Sue had always taken care of us, and when we aged out of the system, they didn't boot us to the curb like many foster families did to their kids. However, we'd seriously pushed our luck tonight. Which is something neither of us had ever done before, so I had no idea what his reaction would be.
Slowly he moved toward the wall where he flipped the light switch on. Then he ran his gaze over us.
“You should have told me your plans. I could have told you what would have happened, could have warned you. Are you sure no one saw you leave?”
Sarah buried her face against my back. She was shorter than me, so I felt her tears wet the back of my shirt.
“I'm sure. They would have stopped us if they'd seen us outside. We were on foot, it wouldn't have been hard for them to pick us up.” I paused to clear my throat. “We got lucky.”
“Damn straight you did.” He paused to rub his hands over his face. “This isn't good, girls. The Iron Hammers won't just let you two go. If they see you in the street, they'll grab you. If you try to go to the cops about the other girls, you'll end up back there. You're both young, you don't understand how this town works yet. But the Iron Hammers own this town. We tried to shelter you two from it, thought we were doing the right thing. Guess not. I should have told you what they do, how they have cops in their pocket. The way runaway girls disappear.”
The longer Ron spoke, the more lightheaded I felt. I still had Sarah's hand in mine and I clung tightly to her. We were so s
crewed.
“What can we do? I don't want to ever go back to that place. Be used like those other girls are.”
With a shake of his head, Ron came over to us and pulled us to him for a hug.
“Ah, my dear girls, there is only one place you can go I'm afraid. And we can't wait. You both need to go shower, change and pack your bags. I'll get the car ready to take you.”
“Where?”
I needed to know where we were going, even though I knew I wouldn't know where it was. I'd never left the Galveston area my whole life. Never needed, or wanted, to.
“Bridgewater. It’s about an hour northeast from here. The Charon MC runs that town and they are the only ones that can keep you two safe. I've met a couple of them in my travels before. Good men, a little rough around the edges, but they're good men. They won't do to you what the Hammers will.”
My tears started to flow as I led Sarah back to our rooms. How the hell had a simple night out ended in such turmoil? For the sake of a little rebellious fun, we'd both just lost everything.
Except each other. We'd always have each other. We might not be blood sisters, but over the past eight years, we'd bonded as though we were.
Scout
While it wasn't unheard of to have someone knocking at my door at five in the morning, it wasn't exactly the norm. So on my way to answer it, I grabbed my gun and checked it as I walked. A peek through the keyhole had me lowering the weapon and opening the door.
“Hey, Ron, what's going on?”
Ron was a bank manager working down in Galveston now, but he'd been at the bank here in Bridgewater for years before he transferred down there. He'd always taken good care of me, as he had my folks before they’d moved to Florida when they’d retired. If I recalled correctly, he used to commute up from Galveston each day so it had made sense when he took a job closer to home. None of that helped clue me in as to why the fuck he was standing on my porch with two girls looking scared out of their minds at five in the fucking morning, though.
