Demented Sons Series Volume One: Books 1-4 (Demented Sons MC Iowa)

by Kristine Allen

  “You’re quiet. You okay?” His voice rumbled through my head where I had rested my cheek back against his chest. Fingers still idly tracing his ink as an excuse to touch him, I hesitated, unsure how to truthfully answer that.

  “I don’t know. I’m worried we messed up. Doing this, I mean. Are we rushing things? I’m not sure this was a smart move. What if things go to shit? How do we work that when we have Sebastian to consider?” The what-ifs bombarded me nonstop.

  “Kassi.” He squeezed me tight in his arms before letting up and kissing me again. “Stop overthinking everything. We’ll both always be his parents regardless of where we’re at relationship-wise. If there’s anything I’ve figured out, it’s that we can’t live our lives constantly wondering what-if, or we won’t live at all. That was part of what got us here in the first place—me being afraid to trust and open up to you or anyone. Being vulnerable is never a feeling we want to experience. There isn’t a question in my mind that I love you, but I’d be lying if I told you I was 100 percent ready and comfortable letting you in on my every thought and fear. That will take time, but I’m willing to try. Are you?”

  Sitting up next to him with my legs tucked to the side, I chewed relentlessly on my bottom lip. “But what if you hurt me? Erik, I just don’t think I can physically take that again.” He gently took my face in his hand and pulled me forward to make me look at him. The movement caused my necklace to swing, catching his eye. His small smile caused his dimple to barely show, but it was there. His calloused fingers lifted it from my chest, causing goose bumps to spread along my skin like a wave.

  “It was a gift.” My fingers habitually stroked it between my thumb and fingers. It had become a comfort to me, and it was a coping mechanism when I was worried or angry. Kind of like a worry stone.

  “I know.” His quiet reply caught me off guard, and I had to ask…

  “How do you know?” At his continued mysterious smile, it clicked. “It was you, wasn’t it? You thought of me back then and bought this for me. Why? Why didn’t you just give it to me?”

  “Because I was scared. I was afraid of getting hurt. Do you see now? Look at all the time we wasted because I was afraid. Do you want to do that again, or do you want to take a chance and live?” My heart hammered in my chest. The thought of losing him was even more frightening than when I lost Hunter. But the thought of never having him at all eviscerated me. He had become that important to me over the last several weeks. Watching him interact and care for our son had cemented my love for him in my heart, so what he said made sense. Regardless of what happened in the future, he would always be a great dad, I would hopefully be a great mom, and I would always love him.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t foolish enough to believe for a second we wouldn’t have issues or arguments. However, the alternative—having nothing at all together—was a far worse prospect.

  “Erik, I’m terrified. Why does life and love have to be so complicated?” My smile was wry, and I shook my head at myself. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. We work on you letting go of this blame you feel obligated to carry, and I’ll agree to giving us a shot. Because I love you too, and I’m tired of being afraid to live.” He swooped me up until I was straddling his lap and he was looking me in the eyes. His big hands framed my face, and he kissed me with such love and passion I nearly cried.

  “We’re going to be just fine. We’ll have each other and our little man. Our family. I fucking love you!” His smile reached his eyes, which shone bright teal with happiness.

  “Well, that’s good because I fucking love you too.” He laughed and held my body close to his. As I squeezed my eyes shut with my head tucked into his shoulder, the smell of my mother’s perfume wafted through the room. A single tear slipped from my eye. Thank you, Mom. I’m glad you approve. I miss you and I love you.

  “Do you smell that?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I nodded into his shoulder.

  “What is that? I smelled that when I was in the hospital right after the accident. It woke me up, and I saw you. You were beautiful and pregnant. I tried to catch you, but you slipped away, and then the next thing I knew I was in the damn ICU. Isn’t that weird? Now it’s gone.”

  It was then I knew my parents weren’t really gone, our relationship was just different now. My heart soared, and for the first time in a long time, my world felt right.

  Erik nuzzled my neck and pulled me tight against his hardening length. “Again?” My surprise made him laugh.

  “Mmmm, always with you.”

  WE BROUGHT LITTLE SEBASTIAN home five days before his original due date. His doctors were pleased with his progress, but his nurses were so sad to see him go. He had easily become one of their favorite tiny patients. Nurse Amanda sat on a bench at the front of the hospital with me and all of Sebastian’s belongings on a cart.

  “We’re going to miss you, little guy!” Her fingers waved at him and he watched their movement in rapt fascination.

  “I can’t thank you all enough. It’s because of all of you that he’s done so well.” My words were emphatic as I truly believed that to be the case.

  She waved me off, shaking her head, but I could see she was choked up.

  He road in his infant car seat, which still nearly swallowed him, but I swore he was observant of everything around him as he was moved from my lap to the base in the back seat of his daddy’s big truck. His little black beanie with a skull embroidered on the front proclaimed him a “Baby Badass” and his little pumping fist when Daddy asked him if he was ready to go home would lead one to believe this was indeed the case.

  “See? His hat is totally fitting. Look at my little badass baby boy!” The last was said in a sing-song voice that had me busting a gut. Amanda joined me in laughter as I climbed in the truck next to Sebastian in the back seat. It was his first ride in the truck and I couldn’t stand being even as far away as the front seat from him. Erik wisely said nothing.

  Life was busy, but amazing.

  We moved into Erik’s house since it was bigger, but “Grandma Nancy” still came to visit often, even though she was upset at me for leaving her for “that big handsome stud on a motorcycle.” Which speaking of, Erik was over the moon when I surprised him with a hand-drawn voucher for the bike of his choice as long as I got to ride it home with him and got a fancy helmet like my new friend Becca had.

  By the time a few years had passed, we already had two other kiddos—a pretty little girl with big teal eyes and dark wavy hair we named Emilia Rhiannon, and a rambunctious little baby boy with his my eyes, we named Morgan Rhys. They were true stair-step kiddos, and I felt like a walking baby factory because I had nearly been pregnant the last three plus years straight.

  It turned out birth control didn’t work for us. At all. Either Mommy was a “fertile Myrtle” or Daddy had some “badass swimmers” (his words), so after we found out Morgan was on the way, Daddy told the doc to schedule the old “snip-snip,” he was done. Though I loved all of my little people, Mommy was extremely pleased with the decision.

  And how has Erik handled his guilt issues? Well, therapy helped, but he would tell you he feels his children and his “loving wife” have been the reason for his absolution. Yes, we got married. Almost right away because he said he wasn’t letting me get away, again. Anyway, he said he figured the powers that be wouldn’t have blessed him with the wonderful family we had, if he hadn’t been deserving.

  It’s been a great life so far… not perfect, but perfect for us.

  The End

  Spanish Translation Key

  ¿Qué carajo?—What the hell?

  ¡Jesús!—Jesus or Christ

  ¡Este güey me va a dar un cardiaco!—This fool is going to give me a heart attack!

  ¡Que Mierda!—What the hell; Oh Shit

  !Chingados!—Shit/Fuck (Interjection)

  !Ay chingado!—Oh fuck

  ¡Ay, Dios mio!—My God

  ¡Esta es una cagada!—this is shit

/>   Word from the Author and Preview:

  Word From the Author:

  I hope you enjoyed Erik and Kassi’s story. It was a very different experience to write. It had me stumped at times, and at others, I couldn’t get the words typed out fast enough. If you loved it, please leave a review on Amazon, www.goodreads.com, allauthor.com, bookbub.com, barnesandnoble.com, or your review platform of choice.

  Now, I’m sure you expected to get another preview. The thing is, when I wrote this book, I didn’t know which book I wanted to release next. I had actually started another series, but then Joker (Kayde) demanded his story be told. Before I knew it, I had a back story and ideas swirling around in my head. The problem was, when it came time to add it to the excerpt to the back, I wasn’t ready. So instead, I invite you to follow my author page on Facebook, www.facebook.com/kristineallenauthor or my facebook grouper the ladies, Kristine’s Crazy Fangirls, where you will find teasers and info about Kayde’s Temptation as I write. Then, check out my website when you get a chance! www.kristineallenauthor.com

  Thank you, once again, for your amazing support and encouraging words. Without you all, I wouldn’t be an author, just a writer.

  Now, just a little overview of what to expect with Kayde’s story….

  Kayde joined the Marine Corps after high school, part as a family tradition of honor and part as an escape. His best friend was also the one he had loved nearly his entire life. She never knew, though, and he never told her because she had never looked at him that way. On graduation day, she announced she was marrying her high school crush, one of his best friends. He knew there was no way he could stay around and watch them together, even though he had promised to always be there for her. It would only lead to him coveting what he couldn’t have - she would be a temptation he would kill himself trying to resist. So he joined the Marine Corps, left for boot camp - and didn’t look back.

  Serafina and Kayde had become best friends the day he moved in next door when she was only three years old. She had taken for granted that they would be friends forever, so when he announced he was joining the Marines after graduation, she was broken-hearted. She was sure he would be hurt or killed and begged him not to go. The thought of not having him in her life to confide in and protect her, was physically painful but she never stopped to analyze why this tore her apart so badly. When her life spirals out of control, she reaches out to Kayde, unsure if he will still help her.

  Enjoy a chapter from Kayde’s mind, just keep in mind this is very rough and may change by the final edit ;) .…

  I was only five the first time my parents dropped me off at my Abuela’s house in San Antonio, TX. Bet you didn’t see that coming, huh? Yes, I’m part Hispanic. The gray eyes and light skin throws people every time. Abuela called me her little güero. You see, my grandfather—my Papa—was a big tall gray-eyed man of Norwegian decent, and when he met my tiny little Mexican grandmother, it was love at first sight. At least that’s what he told me and anyone else who would listen. So I had obviously inherited his and my father’s caucasian complexion instead of my grandmother’s Mexican and Native American coloring. Hence güero…her little light-colored boy. Don’t mistake it for a slur, it was definitely a term of endearment.

  One of my favorite pastimes as a little boy was looking through her old photo albums. The pictures of the two of them always made me giggle. Him so tall and her so short—“vertically challenged” he used to call it. They ended up being more my parents than my own, and it broke my grandfather’s heart.

  My mother was their daughter. Their only daughter. One thing I remember about her is she was beautiful. Her exotic features turned heads everywhere she went from the time she was a little girl, my Abuela always said, and she believed that was my mother’s downfall. They also had five strapping boys, my uncles, Alejando, Matías, Samuel, Javier, and Gunnar. With Gunnar, my grandfather got his way and gave him a “strong Norwegian name.” Don’t confuse that and think that meant he loved any of them any less.

  Anyway, I digress. My father was a wanderer. A dreamer. A “Wanna-Be Musician.” He was handsome, but had no real ambition, content to travel here and there playing for enough money to get him to the next gig—sure that he would be discovered and “make it big.” He was more interested in smoking weed and dreaming than anything, but I guess he loved my mother because after they met at a college party—where he was playing with the band he was with at the time, not going to school—she got pregnant so they eloped and they’re still married to this day. Not that I ever see them.

  Becoming parents may have been the reason they got married, yeah, little ol’ me was on the way, but they really had no interest in actually fulfilling the role. So I saw more cities, in more states, in the first five years of my life than most people see in their lifetime. Then again, I also saw a lot of things a kid my age shouldn’t have, but back then I didn’t realize my life wasn’t normal, it just was. But once I turned five and they got in trouble for me not being in school, we found ourselves on my grandparents’ doorstep.

  There may be a lot of things I don’t remember about my childhood, but that day—I remember a lot of that day. It may have been the day my life changed irrevocably.

  Alone in the living room, I sat, watching some cartoon over the tips of my little scuffed white-toed converse sneakers. It was impossible to tell you what I was actually watching because I couldn’t really hear it over the yelling coming from the kitchen. Trying not to listen, I sat pulling and playing with the frayed holes in the knees of my stained jeans. My heart was pounding because I didn’t know what was going on. The next thing I knew, my father was storming past me, without even a glance my direction, before he slammed out the front door. Then my mother raced past, her flowing, white shirt billowing behind her. Unlike my father, she stopped short, as if she had forgotten I was sitting there.

  “Momma? I’m hungry.” It seemed I was always hungry, and I hated to ask for things because it always made my father angry, but it was just my mother, and when it was just her and I, she was a little more like a “real” mom. She rushed to me, kneeling in front of me and framing my cheeks with her hands. She smelled funny, like she always did, but I was just a little kid and back then I had no idea the “funny smell” which always permeated their clothing and the very air surrounding them, was weed. It’s no wonder it’s my go-to now when things get really shitty, huh? I came by it honest. Come on, chuckle chuckle.

  Anyway, she kissed me and gathered me in her arms. “Indigo, momma and daddy have to leave for a while. You’re grandparents are going to take care of you until we get back. You be a good boy and help your grandma around the house. I -” My father yelled for her from the front yard and my mom jumped up, pressing a kiss to my shaggy dark head and ran out the door. That was it. Gone. My parents had brought me there and just left.

  Figuring I would track down my own food, I climbed down from the couch and wandered to the kitchen. My grandfather was hugging my sobbing, little grandmother and my uncles Gunnar, Javier and Samuel were looking angry with their arms crossed. My older two uncles were grown and had already left home—Alejandro was in the Army and Matías was in the Marine Corps. They always joked they had to join branches than went with their names. Of course, at that time I didn’t even know they existed.

  When I was finally noticed, standing scared and fidgety in the doorway, my grandmother brushed off my grandfather’s comforting arms, rushed to me, and knelt in front of me on the floor. Being so small, she was my height kneeling. Not sure why that stuck in my head, but it always has. Her arms pulled me close, and she spoke softly to me in Spanish. At that time, I had no idea what she was saying. Over the years, I would learn to speak fluent Spanish with her. Much to her great pleasure, and my uncle’s and grandfather’s surprise as none of them spoke it.

  “I’m hungry, grandma. And I want my Momma.” Tears hovered in my eyes but I would never let them fall. It made my father angry of I cried because he said I was a “sissy.” Never kn
owing exactly what that meant, the tone alone had me sure it wasn’t something I wanted to be. So they may have pooled in my eyes, but they would never fall.

  My mother had told me these people were my grandparents. That day was actually the first time I’d ever met them. Essentially, I was in a houseful of strangers.

  “Mijo, you can call me Abuela. We’re going to get you enrolled in school so you can grow to be a smart man someday, like you’re a smart little boy, now. Okay? Your momma, well, she has some things to do.” My uncle snorted and I looked at him in fear. “You’re safe, and we are so happy to have you here, Niño.” No one looked happy. It was scary and confusing.

  That was the first day I met her. After filling my belly, my Abuela sent me outside to play in the backyard with the scrappy dog they had back there. It was a dog like I’d never seen, he was coarse with grey, red and white hairs. He had a little white mark on his forehead and he sat there looking at me with his head tipped to the side.

  It wasn’t long before he was chasing me, nipping gently at my heels, until he knocked me over and I laughed, coming up with leaves and sticks stuck all over me. He was pouncing around me and barking like he wanted me to get back up so we could start the game over, when I heard the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

  “Who are you? And why are you playing wiff Buster?” She was standing at the fence and she was just taller than the short, bent-up, chain-link fence so she could look over the top rail at me. Her little fingers were hooked through the links and I noticed she had chipped bright pink nail polish on them. Golden hair was pulled up in a wild ponytail, and she had the biggest bow I’d ever seen right on top of it. It was hanging off to the side, and wisps of blonde hair blew in front of her eyes. Tawny-brown eyes stared at me, that had little green flecks in them, and reminded me of a caramel apple I once got at a carnival.