Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  The End . . . For Now!

  Battle Born MC Series

  A Battle Born MC Novella

  Scarlett Black

  Acknowledgments

  Cover Art: Opium House Creatives

  Cover Image: Lindee Robinson

  Content/Developmental Editing: Rogue Readers

  Editing: Rebecca Ernst Vazquez

  Note to the readers,

  This book can be read as a standalone. However, for the best reading experience it should be read after book 8, Claiming His Forever. This is a spin-off novella from the Battle Born MC Series.

  “Learn this well, the last ride is never the last ride. And the end is not the end.”

  Richard Rowland

  Blurb

  One night with the right person can change everything. It set mine and Angie’s pasts and future on a collision course with no return. Fate doesn’t wait for us to be ready. It takes you by the balls and twists until you make a move. My life was changed with a decision to have a drink with a beautiful siren. I wanted one night, and not forever.

  I didn’t find out about the consequences of our choices until months later. I didn’t want to love her, but I had no choice. She buried herself into my life. I needed her and everything a future with her offered. A chance at what I believed to be impossible, a family.

  One more kiss and promise, and she’ll be mine with a twist of luck.

  Prologue

  Cowboy

  Three months ago . . .

  Sipping my beer, I look around in disgust. Yea, I’m a grumpy fuck who isn’t in the mood for this little shindig. The back of the clubhouse is packed with family and friends of the bride and groom. Groaning as if I was in deep pain, I take a long pull of my drink. Happy, love-crazed couples litter the backyard. Lights are hung up and fucking flowers are everywhere. Spider, the lucky fuck, only because Jazzy is a hot chick, got hitched and branded his woman.

  Granted, it was a few months back, but here we are celebrating the happy couple. There was no wedding, not in the traditional sense. That’s a story for love-crossed fools with hearts in their eyes. That shit will never be me. However, months back, I can remember their wedding—was a party I was down for. Beer, bitches, and bud were flowing, and after the Ol’ Ladies left, the afterparty started. My cock stirs just thinking about the strippers who showed us a good night.

  I guess Fuego, the Sacramento Prez and Jazzy’s uncle, thought it fit to throw her a big reception regardless. I’m not bitter that Spider ended up with her, not one bit. The way I see it, I helped to light a fire under his ass to go get her. If he hadn’t . . . fool never saw what was right in front of his face all along. No, my sigh is because it’s going to be a long night ahead, being polite and shaking hands.

  I’m preparing myself for the inevitable disappointment—a lonely trip to bed alone.

  That is until I catch an unknown dark-haired beauty in a short dress sitting alone at the bar. Well, Dad always said it was rude to let a lady drink by herself. I may not end up alone after all. My enthusiasm sparks and life takes a turn for the better. My arm raises and I hold my Stetson hat atop my head when a strong Nevada wind kicks up. Dirt is swept up through the warm breeze and whips around us in a whirlwind. With my body blocking the wind, she feels the change in the air and her hypnotic deep brown eyes peek behind her. Her gaze trails up from my belt, over my chest, until it lands on my beaming smile.

  “Well, I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to you. I’m Cowboy, and you are?” I slide in, resting my forearm on top of the bar. I bite back the seductive comments about her nice-sized tits or her short summer dress inching up her long, tan legs.

  “Angela. I’m here with the bride. You are definitely with the groom’s party.” Her gaze wanders over the patches on my cut.

  “That’s about right. You wanna tell me why you’re over here on your own?” Raising my brow high, I wait for her response. Why isn’t she with the bridal party, or Vegas’s crazy-ass crew, causing problems as they normally do? Thank god she isn’t, and I have her undivided attention to myself. The details aren’t important to me as long as this keeps moving where I think she is.

  She tethers her thick, long brunette hair in her grasp and lays it over one shoulder. Thick lashes blink up, and lust travels around us in a thick cloud with the dust. Her gaze is trapped with mine.

  “How about you sit here with me, have a drink, and make me laugh for a few hours, Cowboy?” Her sultry rasp draws me in closer. My ass promptly finds the stool next to her and I flag over the bartender.

  “Two whiskeys and two beers.” Leaning into her tight body, I take in her perfume and it’s all I can do not to run my nose along her neck. She conjures a grin and I murmur, “Wish granted, darlin’. Get ready to drink, dance, and laugh until you can’t take no more.” The brush of her body against mine sends shocks through my spine. Not only does she want what I do, she needs it—sex, the raw passion that sets your skin on fire.

  Her delicate, manicured fingers run up my buttoned shirt. The coy smirk she gives me says she’s ready for the same things I am. Pure lust enraptures us and, by god, I don’t want out of it. “What if I want more than you want to give me?” She leans in closer and our lips are a breath apart. “What if . . . I want it all?” Angie tugs at my shirt, daring me to take her mouth. But I won’t, not yet.

  “Get ready for one hell of a ride then.” I pull my head to my right and my lips graze the flesh of her ear. Her body trembles and I wrap an arm around the back of her seat as the prospect pushes our drinks toward us. “To good company?”

  She holds up her shot glass. “To great memories not to be forgotten.” Something tells me she wants to forget, though, and I know exactly how to make that happen. I’ve spent the last few years doing exactly that. Doesn’t matter who she’s here with, I don’t care. I want what she’s offering and from the enticing deep V in her blouse, those tits, they call to me. Angie is the opposite of what a country boy like me grew up believing life would be like, settling down and raising a family. Angie is all city girl and not the girl next door. I want to bite into her like a starving man begging for his next meal.

  “Aye.” The burn from the shot feeds the fire that was already burning from the woman sitting next to me. Surprisingly, she doesn’t cringe from the whiskey, but a drop escapes from the corner of her mouth. My thumb wipes it clean from her plump lower lip, and my mouth sucks the faint taste of salt and alcohol from my skin.

  “You want to get out of here? Get away from this party and take a six-pack where I know we can find a quiet place to finish the kind of party we both want?” For the life of me, I’m dragging her down the road of my past. My chest burns with anticipation. “Come on, Angie, I dare you.”

  She thinks about it a moment, not taking her eyes off me. “Actually, yes, I would love to get out of here.” Taking her hand and the beers, we leave the party and make memories that will never be forgotten. We could blame the alcohol, but it’s the search to find the comfort in another for the night that’s the real draw. The beer and whiskey will make it fun, but what we both want is the feel of flesh, the thrill of an orgasm, the chase. My intention is to remain a bachelor, live off what I can get, and move on. It didn’t matter if I saw her again. What we didn’t see was that one day, we would make a choice that changed it all.

  1

  Angie

  My best friend in the whole world ran off and fell in love with the man of her dreams in shiny chrome and a blaze of tailpipe glory. Jazzy married her happily ever after, then moved away from me. She left me behind and I can’t fault her one bit. I just hate that I’m so lonely. From Sacramento, I drove three hours to Reno, Nevada, for the party her uncle threw for her. While I was there, we only had a minimal amount of time together. The only attention I got was from Cowboy, the first MC member I’d slept with. He was a blast and got my mind off my troubles for the night. I’ll say this—he didn’t lie when he said he would take me for a ride under the stars. We were laid out
for all to see until dawn. It’s been months since I’ve seen Cowboy and no man has done me like he has. In fact, if anything, I’ve grown lonelier since then. I can’t say for sure if it’s him, but I hate being alone.

  I miss the hell out of Jazzy. Sure, we talk on the phone, but you can’t tell me that’s the same as being able to grab lunch and laugh over a movie together. It’s not. Can you die of a broken heart? The kind where you have no one and your best friend, who was your family, left you? That kind of a broken heart, can you die from it?

  I’m bored as hell too. My past relationships have all failed epically, family and love. Jazzy has been my constant. She kept me occupied, and since she’s left, I’ve been finding more and more men’s underwear left in my house. Jazzy was my girl, the person I went to with everything, and without her here, I’m lost. Alone with my own thoughts, it’s hard to gauge how much I’ve changed. With one eye cracked open, I see the underwear belonging to the man I called Jack. I don’t know his name, okay. We said no names last night. He called me Red, yes, because I had a glass of sweet red wine at the bar. Speaking of, it’s given me a horrendous headache. It pounds inside my skull, I’m sure punishing me for my choices.

  No, I haven’t gone so far that I’m drunk when I hook up, but a few drinks make it fun. It’s become a game and I’ll admit it’s more than my usual amount. If I was in therapy, I’m sure it would be defined as reckless behavior or some shit. I call it rock bottom. I haven’t told Jazzy because she will be pissed. Not being with the random guys—okay, that’s a lie, she wouldn’t like it, but it’s not easy for a bitch like me. Not everyone gets my crass sarcasm and attitude. In other words, she’s my only friend and family. I have a dad and mom, but we aren’t close. They are self-centered assholes who should really practice what they preach.

  Sighing, I roll over and fling an arm over my face. “This is bad. I’m having fucking conversations with myself now.” With great effort, I take in a deep breath, and get my ass out of bed. On my way out of my room, I snag the boxer briefs at the end of the bed, and toss them into the trashcan in the kitchen. Oh good! He left a business card that has a note scribbled to call him. Nope. I toss that into the trash as well.

  Seems like everything in my life is trash.

  When I can figure out what the hell is my damage, then maybe I can have a chance at a normal life. I already know my issues run deep into my past and I’m not about to open up that house of horrors. Brushing off the bullshit in my head, I stretch and look outside my window to see Karen with her teenage son. She gapes in shame at my body. It can’t be that bad? Well, I’m wearing Jack’s white ‘wife beater’ sans bra and underwear. The kid grins and I cock an eyebrow while his mom shakes her head at me.

  Tired and not feeling well, my temper flares and I yell, “Fuck you, Karen! Take little Tommy home then. I’m in my own goddamn house.” I raise my hand and flip her the bird as I storm off to the bathroom. Mumbling, I continue talking shit while I turn on the shower. “Come after me if you got a big set of cannolis, bitch. This girl right here, Angela Sarrico, will kick your ass and knock you back into the nineties with that stupid as fuck hair.” My hand tests the water’s temperature before I jump in. “That’s actually an insult to the nineties. I take it back, Karen, you’re just a judgmental cunt.”

  The water relaxes the tense muscles in my body, and I exhale the stress. Picking up my cross from around my neck, I give it a kiss and send up a small prayer. I know I could do better, I just haven’t figured out how . . . yet. This one goes to my grandma who is up above in heaven. God, I miss her and the memories. I wish she were around to keep me company. After I thoroughly wash, I jump out and nausea slams into my stomach. The guilt from my Catholic upbringing and my mother’s passive judgment is so strong, I’m puking from it.

  Angela, you can do better than your friends at school. You will do better than you have been. When I was your age, I never had that problem.

  My mom wanted a perfect girl, the captain of the cheerleading team and student body president president. Getting first place in track wasn’t enough—I needed first place at State. It never ended, and my dad agreed with her when he was around and spared me a thought.

  It has to be the late nights and stress from work bringing all this back. There has been whisperings at work of problems with my boss. I can’t lose my job. I don’t know what I would do if I did. My dad wanted me to work in the corporate world just like him. As soon as I was old enough, he planned my future in a way that benefited his long-term goals. He raised me to be calculating, powerful, and strong. Combine that with my heavy Catholic upbringing and I’m ice-cold when I need to be. When I told them both what I wanted, to be a nurse, they turned their backs on me.

  I dress for work in tight jeans and a loose off-the-shoulder top. My dad hated it when I gave up the corporate world to chase the life of a hairdresser at first. It was my plan to help pay my way through nursing school. My parents could not have felt more like failures and I rather enjoyed it.

  He and my mother are successful executives. After their vengeful divorce, the only thing they can agree on is that I’m wasting my time.

  With my makeup on point and a coffee in hand, I walk the few blocks to the shop I work at. This place is where I can relax and get lost in a world of cut and color. I can let go of expectations and resentment. The worry washes away, and I can enjoy my clients, giving them a few hours of the same peace and beauty. My job is mine and I own it, except upon walking up to the window, I see the owner of the salon is being arrested by the cops.

  On the sidewalk, my life changes in the blink of an eye. In slow motion, I see Jana being placed onto the floor face-down by two officers. I can’t hear the words leaving her mouth, but her muffled yelling filters through the glass doors. I stand in amazement, frozen in time. I’m not sure how long I watch the scene before me, but eventually, she’s hauled up from the floor and dragged to the cruiser parked out front. My stomach hits the concrete as I realize the rumors were true.

  An audience has joined me in stunned comradery. I’m not sure what will happen next. Do I walk in and get ready for my next appointment? I don’t have to wait too long before Shelly walks out along with a few other stylists from the once upscale business. “Angie,” she whispers as she pulls me in for a hug. Behind her, the doors are locked up by the police department. “We’re out of work.”

  Stepping back, I ask, “What happened just now?”

  “She was wrapped up in illegal trading and didn’t pay her taxes. I don’t know. It was a whole stream of charges. They told us someone will be in contact to get our stuff out at some point. But we can’t take anything until we’re notified.” I nod along as if I know what to do next.

  It is not going to be okay. I use my stellar upbringing to hold it together even though I’m trembling like a leaf on the inside.

  Jana had the best cosmetologists and that means I will be competing with them to find a job with none of my tools. My life is locked up behind those doors. “It’ll be okay,” I lamely respond. “Thanks, Shell.”

  It takes me two blocks before the unfreeze happens. The panic overrides the shock and I crumble. At this moment, I feel the bottom and I hit hard. For the first time in years, I miss what having a dad and mom would be like. I could call and ask them for help, but I’m not going to show them any weakness. Instead, I dial the number of the one person I could call if I need bail money or to help bury a body, my sister from another mister, and my best friend, Jazzy.

  2

  Cowboy

  “Hey.” A sharp elbow feels like it punctures my ribs. “Cowboy, wake up.”

  “Fuck, Topaz, I said no sleeping over. I have work.” Rolling over, I pull the blanket with me. Hopefully, she gets the hint and goes home. A fuck is one thing, sleeping over is another. The weight of the bed changes and I huddle into my pillow with a peaceful sigh.

  “You forget you were supposed to run that haul over the mountain today at six?” Blade barks. “Get your as
s out of bed and into the shower. I have three kids, asshole. I don’t need another.”

  My mind snaps to attention and I sit straight up in bed. Topaz wiggles her fingers at me, laughing on her way out the door with my shirt on. Fuck, it was a favorite shirt of mine and I’ll never hunt it down. I know her game, so she can have it. “Meet me in the kitchen,” Blade growls before he exits, slamming the door behind him. Littered across the floor are multiple pieces of girls’ underwear. The wolfish grin I cannot suppress escapes and takes over my face. That was a wild night last night.

  I toss away the covers from my legs and stand . . . or attempt to. I stumble over a black heel on the floor and hop around from the pain. “Sheee-it.” But it gets worst as my hip hits the dresser with the force of my weight behind it. The whiskey bottle on the dresser begins to rock and, in an attempt to save it, I end up knocking it to the floor. The glass shatters as the whiskey sprays everywhere. “How unlucky. Just fucken-fan-tastic.” From my dirty laundry hamper, I toss a few towels over the mess.

  I grab a clean one from the other hamper and tie it around my waist. Not all rooms in the clubhouse have a built-in shower and mine does not. Whistling down the hallway, I catch a glare from Blade in the main room. He looks at his watch and then back to me. “Five minutes, Cowboy,” he hollers after me. Blade is not kidding around about acting like a dad, but he sure as fuck ain’t mine. I give him a mock salute and duck into the bathroom.