by Amo Jones
In Fury Lies Mischief (Midnight Mayhem: Book II)
Copyright © 2020 by Amo Jones
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 prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
If you downloaded this ebook via a pirating site, know that you have committed theft which is punishable by law.
In the United States alone, the maximum criminal penalty for copyright infringement is a fine of up to $250,000 and a jail sentence of up to five years.
Content Editing: My Brothers Editor (Ellie Mc Love)
Line Editing: Petra Gleason
Proofreading: Rosa Sharon
Proofreading #2: Rebecca Fairest Reviews
Beta: Sarah Grim Sentz
Book Cover: Hang Le
Model: Adi Gillespi
Photographer: Arron Dunworth
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
After Show
Acknowledgements
Other Books
This book is dedicated to my kids, because they had to live on cereal and toast until I finished it.
And to my husband, who made the cereal and toast because he can’t cook anything else.
*I’m joking. Please don’t call child services on me.*
“Welcome to Midnight Mayem. We are not a circus, we are not a carnival, and the only thing that you should be afraid of losing tonight, is your sanity…”
When I was ten years old, I told the world to go fuck themselves. I mean, I literally stood up in the center of the ring, made Ky hook up a video, flipped the camera the bird, and told every motherfucker while holding my junk, “Fuck you!” Now, I know what you’re thinking. How the fuck could you do this at the tender age of ten?
Well, I’ll tell you how. Ky is abnormally smart. I mean, textbooks couldn’t even figure out his shit—smart. We made the video, and then Ky hacked into some survey and uploaded the video.
It went live.
Spread through all news channels.
Across every single thing that was televising live during that very minute.
How’d I reach this point, you ask, well, a funny story… I mean, I could go back and tell you from the day I entered this world, but let’s be honest, no one, aside from my sex crazed best friends who like fucking her, wants a descriptive image of my mother’s vagina, so whatever. Long story that doesn’t have anything of importance short, I’m hard-wired to be this way. I was born human but crafted to be this.
Trickster.
The fucking Mayhem in Midnight. The motherfucker that would push all of your boundaries and make you feel good while doing it.
Speaking of Midnight Mayhem: Our family. Our unit. A bunch of fucked Romanians that are living the good life in America. I mean, shit, to be fair, we’ve all been living here since our parents moved over when we were young. Never found out why. Never asked.
“What are you doing?” King glares at me from across the booth.
I wave my hand up, grinning. “Listening to music. That cool with you?”
It was Christmas only a few weeks ago, and we all had a long enough break. Now we’re kicking off our new year with our first international show in Australia. Delila always has her reasons, whether we see them or not. It can be frustrating when she starts being cryptic, which is exactly what she has been lately.
I lean forward, lowering my voice so P doesn’t wake, but her mouth falls open slightly and a snore escapes. I smirk.
“Don’t say it, motherfucker. Leave her alone.”
My eyes fly up to King. “Fine, moody bastard. I was just going to—”
“—Killian, get to what you were going to ask me and leave her alone. She’s probably still tired as fuck from New Year’s Eve, which by the way… are we going to talk about that?” King’s attention shifts over my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know who he’s talking about.
My smile drops. “No. We don’t. As I was about to say before your sweet little angel distracted me with her snoring, have you asked Delila why we’re doing an international tour this year?”
We do international shows, but we do them every five years because of the time and cost that comes into it. We take on more staff and are away for fourteen months each time. Since the last one we did was two years ago, the fact that we’re already all abroad doesn’t sit right with me. The floor rocks softly, the imbalance a dead giveaway that we’re on The Cap aka—my family’s huge ass fucking cruise ship. We always take the ship over to kick off an international flight to give us time to practice, train, wind down a bit. If we take the 747, we all end up grumpy, tired, and only needing to train as soon as we get on land anyway. This way, we can take the majority of our equipment over with us. The Cap, named after my great, great something grandfather, is painted in sleek black with the words Midnight Mayhem written over the sides in lilac. It can be a bitch when it comes to customs and transfers for the road registration, but that’s where connections come in and a lot of powerful people owe us a shit ton of favors.
King shakes his head, picking up his glass of whiskey and throwing it back. “No. She’s more on edge than ever.” We’re currently kicking back in Yaam. The bar located on level one. Obviously, this isn’t like your usual cruise ship. There are no souvenir shops or cute little bakeries. There are two bars, one on this level and the other on the top deck near the pool. On the second level is where all of our bedrooms and storage compartments for the lighter loads are, where the heavier items—such as bikes, equipment, and all the others are tucked inside the basement.
“Yeah.” I run my hand through the strands of my hair, tugging on the ends slightly. “I’ve noticed that too.” Since Christmas Day, Delila has been more reserved and tense. None of us have seen this shift in her before, and it has put a spin on the dynamic that we live through. Delila is the type of woman that brings funerals to life, not sleep with the dead.
Perse shuffles, swiping the sleep from her eyes. “Can we go to bed?”
King throws his arm around her neck. “Yeah.” He stands, glaring at me. “Don’t get
up to too much mischief…”
I wink at him. “Oh you’re just jealous because you’re—”
Perse slices me with a cold stare.
“Never mind.” I roll my eyes. “’Night, lovers.” They disappear through the bar and out the exit. Running my hand over my face, my focus falls on Callan.
Yeah, fuck it. She’ll do for tonight. Perse hates when I play with her girls, but I can’t help it if they’re offering themselves up as my toys. Well, Callan does. Sass is a different fucking story.
I tilt my head back and look down to my crotch, a smirk on my mouth.
Callan licks the rim of her margarita and shoots back the rest before her long legs swing out from beneath the bar and she walks toward me.
Remember when you could change your ringtone to some remixed Jay-Z and Linkin Park song? Well, fuck, wish I still had that option because “Reflection” (iPhone’s default ringtone) is banging on my rage this morning. I swipe it from the bedside table and hit answer.
“You better be dead, Maya.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not. But you might be, because you’re late and Delila isn’t in a good mood today.” Maya is my annoying as fuck best friend who doesn’t know any boundaries, lights a fire under my ass anytime that she can, and tests my patience every day. If you hadn’t figured it out, yeah, the bar I was at last night had been renamed after her. She wanted it to be called “MAYA,” but I had to hold on to some masculinity, so I called it “YAAM.” Safe to say, she’s not a fan.
I groan, swiping my eyes. “Fuck her. She doesn’t run my ship.”
“Kill? Get in here now.” Delila is also Maya’s mom, but their relationship is not like your average. Putting it lightly.
“Fine!” I hang up and make my way out of bed, growling at the onslaught of light that’s beaming through my windows. “Fuck.” I must have forgotten to close them last night after Callan left, or rather, I kicked her ass out.
After a quick shower, I throw on some grey sweats and Adidas sneakers, tossing a clean white Tommy Hilfiger shirt over my shoulder. I don’t know what Delila’s issue is, it’s not like we can train on the triple wheel of death, which is the stunt she’s always grinding our ass to train. I get it, it’s dangerous and requires practice, but we’ve all been riding on those wheels since we were old enough to ride.
I open the doors that lead to the first level auditorium, a smoke hanging from my mouth and a coffee in hand. “Sorry I’m late, didn’t realize I had to fucking be here,” I mutter, as everyone turns to face me.
I notice it’s just us. Midnight, the Six Demons and Seven Angels, and whatever it is that Perse called her little crew. And Delila, of course. None of the crew is here.
I mindlessly find Sass, who is looking right through me, as if I don’t exist. She’s fucking good at that. I blow her a kiss before sliding in beside Keaton. She flinches, turning away from me. Don’t know what the fuck is up with her or what her problem with me is. When I first saw her, naturally, I wanted her. The girl is a walking younger version of Adriana Lima—only hotter, because she has this whole Megan Fox thing going on too. But for some fucked up reason, she has withdrawn from me. She hasn’t spoken one word to me, yet she and Keaton seem to have some fucking twisted vibe going on.
Motherfucker. It’s weird for Keaton, and when I say vibe, I mean he doesn’t exactly mind her company. Usually, he hates everyone. He doesn’t like to be around anyone but us, but apparently, Saskia has slowly made her way into his books. I ain’t buying it and I still have money on the fact that Perse has made him soft.
I know he hasn’t fucked her. In fact, I know that no one has touched Saskia Royal for the time that she has been here. She barely speaks, keeps to herself, and only cultivates in her circle, which is mainly Perse, Callan, and Kenan.
“So good of you to join us, Trickster.” Delila glowers at me, before lighting up another smoke and inhaling. “Okay. So, we are set to dock in Brisbane in twenty-three days. As usual, or if you’re new—” She looks over to Callan, Sass, Kenan, and Perse. “It takes twenty-three days to sail to Australia, where we do two shows in Brisbane, before setting off to Sydney and Perth. You’ll find an itinerary underneath your seat, which is heavily outlined on not only our timetable and schedule, but the training that I will need you all to maintain while we’re out at sea. If you’re not working on your routine, you better be running on those treadmills.”
I kick out my leg and inhale a cloud of toxic nicotine smoke.
“I need everyone to keep up their routines. Because we’re at sea for a long time, that doesn’t mean you slack off.” Delila brushes her hand in the air. “That’s all.” I look around the auditorium, the seats line a stage with all of our training props to the back. Someone has even moved in the double wheel so we can work on it. I’m not in the fucking mood to do anything right now, so whoever did that wasted their time. I could ride that cage with my eyes closed.
“What time did you go to sleep last night?” Maya scowls, dropping down onto the chair beside mine.
“Damn, grinding my balls already? Not gonna warm them up a little before you rub up on them?” I watch as her eyes roll to the back of her head, only intensifying my smirk. I put her out of her misery. “Can’t remember. Callan is a fucking Energizer Bunny.”
“Gross,” Maya snickers, leaning her head back against the top of the chair. “Have you spoken to my mother? Maybe ask her why she decided to round us all onto this godforsaken ship and set us out of the US.”
Keaton clears his throat. “Nah, but I’m almost certain it has to do with Patience.”
“You think?” I ask, thinking over Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve.
I flinch when I think of New Years. It’s not something that I want to think about right now, especially with Maya sitting right beside me. It’s still a little tender between her and I after that—I don’t want to encourage the animosity.
Movement catches my eye in the corner when Perse and her crew start moving to the center stage.
“Killian.” My father pointed toward the double staircase that leads to the second floor of our mansion. “Go and make sure they have done their duty.”
I huffed. “Dad, they do it. Every single time. I don’t need to check.” I kicked out my leg and took another spoon of granola. I didn’t know why we had to fly back to Kiznitch this week. I hate visiting the old land. It’s depressing as fuck and besides, I have everything that I want right here.
“Killian,” Dad barks. “Go and make sure.”
I tossed my spoon down into the ceramic bowl and kicked off from the chair. Fucking slaves. Why the fuck do we have them anyway. They’re nothing but annoying.
“Killian!” Kyrin calls out from the center stage. I must have been lost in my own head because I was still sitting in the same chair I was in minutes earlier.
“Yo?”
I watch as Sass and Callan make their way on stage, with Callan throwing me side-eyes. Callan is hot. As hot as you’ll get if you like them blonde, where I’m known to prefer mine on the darker side of the spectrum, which is what I always blame it on when I can’t help but seek out Sass.
I jack-knife up from my chair, tossing my t-shirt onto the seat in the front row and spread my arms wide. “What?”
“We need to practice.”
“Practice what?” I smirk. “I can make you lick my ass. Shall we practice that?” I wink at Kyrin, who flips me off.
Chuckling, I turn around quickly, just as Perse hits play on “All I Need” from Within Temptation. I’m shaking my head at her song choice when Saskia bumps right into my chest. My arms go out to steady her. “Wow.”
She jumps back from me as if I’ve assaulted her with my presence. “Sorry.” She attempts to step away and walk past me, only I counter her movement.
“What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem,” she snaps, agitated.
Fuck, her eyes are blue. I’ve never in my life seen eyes like hers. I thought mine were
different, but they ain’t got nothing on hers. With that olive skin, a jaw, sharp, yet delicate enough to cut through cold butter, rosy swollen lips and thick raven eyelashes, she’s everything that you would picture perfection to look like. I’m not shallow, I like my women flawed, which is what brings me to the other side of my attraction to Saskia Royal: confusion. Perfection makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been hyped up all my life based on my looks alone, I would never think that I’d be interested in the girl version of me.
“Yeah.” I narrow my eyes. “You do. Ever since you’ve been here, you’ve purposely made it obvious that you try to stay away from me.”
She keeps her eyes trained on mine, her arms crossing in front of herself, only pushing up her tits and causing them to spill out of her little sports bra. Typical little dancer body on her, only this one has wide hips to grab onto and some jiggle to her round ass.
“So, which is it, Killian?” Her voice is gentle, but her words are jagged. “Am I ignoring you, or am I hostile toward you?”
“I don’t fucking know, baby, you tell me.”
She dismisses me, repeating her cute little sidestep, only I meet her again, and she slams into my chest again.
“What’d I fucking do?”
She scowls at me. “What’s the matter? Don’t like it when a girl doesn’t fall to her knees with your presence?”
I chuckle, allowing her through, but turning around to throw one more attack out. “I’ll have you on your knees soon enough.”
She stills and then continues to the stage.
“Do you have to antagonize her? Just put her in the basket of Girls Killian Can’t Fuck. I’m sure she’ll be happy being the only one in there.” Keaton nudges, handing me my bandana.
I tie it around my mouth, watching as she stretches and warms up her body. “Fuck that,” I answer. “It’s not even like that. Hell, she can hate me all she wants, but I want to fucking know why.”
“Maybe she doesn’t hate you?” Maya states, coming up behind Keaton. “Maybe she just doesn’t want you, Kill.”
