Kinsmen MC (Complete Series)

by J. C. Allen

  Actually, I’d be applying to way more jobs in that region.

  “I wish,” I said. “Truth is, I actually applied to a job here.”

  “What?!?” Marissa said, stunned.

  “Allison! Really?” Jenna said.

  I nodded.

  “I… I just don’t think I’m cut out for this long-term stuff. The job here in Minnesota is a really good one, don’t get me wrong, but… I’m really not sure if I would apply to it if Zeke wasn’t around, you know?”

  “Oh, you developed feelings for a casual fling,” Marissa said. “I had it with Roger a little bit, it happens to all of us. You eventually learn and move on.”

  I knew I would I knew, but what Marissa seemed just a hair too simple for how I was feeling right now. It didn’t feel right to simplify my feelings as just something I would learn from and move on. This wasn’t like I’d gotten a bad grade on a test or taken a bad photo—this was a romantic, sexual encounter that had lasted some time and done more to confuse me than help me. Yes, in the literal sense, Marissa was right, but it missed so many points.

  “I just wish I knew what Zeke and I was,” I said. “I mean, we’re done, we’re totally done.”

  No chance I go back to him. No chance. No way…

  “It’s just frustrating.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna said. “I’m with Marissa, though, you’ll learn and move on. In the meantime, why don’t you move on? I know, I know, you’re not the hookup kind of gal, but at least you could talk to new guys, you know? See what they’re like? Maybe?”

  “I just want a glass of wine right now, that’s what I want to see is like.”

  To Jenna and Marissa’s credit, the two of them stood up immediately and told me they’d be right back as they headed to the kitchen. I felt too pitiful lying there on the ground, though, so I picked myself up a few seconds after they left and followed them in. Jenna offered me the choice of red or white, and I chose red—I needed something heavier.

  The three of them distracted me with talk of what the summer would entail, but by this point, I had mostly withdrawn in my head and had begun doing the postmortem of what our relationship was and wasn’t. I was a little disappointed in myself for believing things might have been able to go longer; it was a shame that I couldn’t also say that out loud. Every time the topic of us came up, one of just blurted out that we were happy single and couldn’t ever imagine it going in any other direction. That was a damn shame, considering that Zeke had told me on day one—literally within the first twenty minutes of conversation—that he didn’t do relationships.

  The only saving grace to this was that I had started to believe Zeke also was violating his own rule. I could pick it up in the little things—like how he called me to have phone sex, like how he cooked me mac n’ cheese, like how he had said that we weren’t seeing other people. If I was someone who ignored what he had said, at least he was also ignoring himself.

  It wasn’t much, though.

  Within a couple of hours, we’d all gotten drunk enough that we all were convinced the best way to get over this was to head out to a nightclub, have some alcohol, and enjoy ourselves. I knew on some level that this was a bad idea, or at least it wasn’t an idea that was going to make me feel any better; maybe I wouldn’t feel worse because of it, but it’s not like having a bunch of gin and vodka and wine was going to make me wake up tomorrow and feel like I had magically uncovered the secret to happiness. Still, the idea of staying home alone while Jenna and Marissa went and had fun was not fun. I needed to get out.

  And so it was that I found myself getting dressed much as I had for the first night when we went to the Kinsmen bar, deciding that if that outfit had helped me have a good time, maybe it would help me do so again. Of course, there was also the risk that I would get entangled in a romantic thing yet again, but let’s be honest, Zeke was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of guy; if I encountered someone like him at the new place, then life truly would have just wanted me to turn this into my slutty summer.

  We chose some place on the other side of the town called The Red Floor for us to go to; it was literally in the opposite direction of the Kinsmen club. From our townhome, the club was about a twenty minute drive south; this was a twenty minute drive north. If we ran into any Kinsmen, then I had made the right choice in applying to jobs closer to home, because there would be no escaping those guys in this town.

  When we pulled up, I was surprised to see that it was more crowded than the Kinsmen club had ever been. Perhaps the town just knew the Kinsmen were a rather… different group, and that The Red Floor was more of a traditional nightclub. Whatever the case, when Jenna and Marissa and I parked, having designated Jenna as the DD—a title I worried she would only respect loosely—we could hear the club music thumping outside, and it got Marissa to squeal in delight. I did too, but only so I wouldn’t seem like a party pooper.

  When we got inside, it definitely had the signs of a small-town club; the place wasn’t full of fancy decor like something in Dallas or Houston might have, and the DJ was more or less some guy playing what sounded like a Spotify mix. Still, it definitely did not carry the dingy, grimy feel that the Kinsmen club had, and so we happily went to the front and ordered drinks.

  “So, see anything you like?” Marissa said after she’d put an order in for three gin and sodas.

  “I dunno,” I said casually, but with a resting smile. “This place seems fun.”

  Marissa just giggled.

  “Silly, I don’t mean the club. I just mean the boys here.”

  “Oh,” I muttered, feeling slightly dumb.

  Still, I did just that, looking. One of the bad things about being in a small town was that there just weren’t a lot of guys our age here. I suspected that most of them had gone out of town or were too young to interest us. The ones who were our age, well, they would’ve been associated with the club.

  I did, however, notice one table in the corner, where four older looking men, probably of Italian descent, seemed to be eying us in a way that was not exactly one of warmth. I got a disturbing feeling watching them glare at us and mumble to each other, all the while not letting us out of their sights. Their looks were not the looks of men who were interested in flirting with us and charming us; instead, they almost had the look of men who wanted to kidnap us and hold us for ransom.

  Marissa and Jenna didn’t seem to notice or they didn’t seem to care, because when one of the younger ones came over and introduced himself to Jenna, it didn’t take long for her to easily fall into the flow of conversation. Two more men approached, accounting for Marissa and I.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” the one who came up to me said.

  He had thick eyebrows, something of a Midwestern accent, and a gaze that did not look like it had a lot of empathy or kindness behind it. It wasn’t a very reassuring look, and it didn’t do a lot to make me feel a lot better about myself.

  “Michelle,” I said, giving my middle name.

  “Michelle,” the man repeated back, as if committing it to memory for some fraudulent conversation. “You are so very lovely on the eyes. May I have the honor of buying you a drink?”

  Perhaps in many other spots, I would have said yes, if only because I had just gotten out of my thing with Zeke—my relationship with Zeke?—and it might have paid to have had some fun.

  But tonight, I wasn’t having it. In fact, I wasn’t having being here at all. The Red Floor was losing its luster by the second.

  “No, thank you, I’m, uh, I’m good.”

  I slipped away at that moment, leaving the man to stare at me with what looked like rising anger in his eyes. In fact, I’m pretty sure he extended a hand and grasped at my shoulder to try and corral me, but I slipped away with my purse before his hand got a strong enough hold to pull me back. I slid through the crowd, slithering like a snake, and made my way for the exit.

  I very deliberately stayed near the bouncer as I called an Uber. I texted Marissa and Jenna that
I was heading home; I blamed it on some sort of adverse reaction to the alcohol, but I obviously would have been better off blaming it on an adverse reaction to the night.

  My Uber picked me up without any trouble; the man who had been inside had done nothing to further pursue me. Maybe I had overreacted, but there was no real downside to going home at this hour. At worst, I’d shed a few tears of frustration before calling it a night. While that wasn’t a great night by any stretch of the imagination, it sure beat the hell out of getting raped or drugged or even just hooking up with someone I wasn’t that into just for the hell of it.

  That was a quiet Uber ride, that was for sure. I stared out the window, looking at the stars, knowing I needed to figure things out in a more rational, sober state, but not really wanting to wait. My impatience was affecting me, but I had to fight it to make sure I could think these things through more clearly.

  I decided no impulse decisions until I got at least a night’s worth of sleep. I got out of the Uber, walked to the front door of my condo, and fiddled with my keys.

  And that’s when my phone rang with the ring tone reserved for only one particular individual.

  The Sex God.

  19

  Zeke

  What the fuck just happened?

  I should have left as soon as I got on the bike. The childish part of me just wanted to flip off Allison and any of her stupid friends, roar my bike for the entire area to hear, and then never see her again. And I was twenty-three, so that childish part wasn’t that hard to find.

  But… instead, I was just left confused.

  Yes, it had been a few days since I had seen her. But I’d come with good news, damnit! How could that have been a bad thing? What had happened that prevented her from wanting to see me again? Was she really that weak that just a few days had caused her to go the other way?

  No, not weak. Zeke, you didn’t say anything for a few days…

  There was a part of me that knew why I was as frustrated as I was, and it was a part that had become stronger in recent times because of Allison. It wasn’t a part that liked to admit it existed, and it certainly wasn’t a part that admitted things out loud. It was a part that, if my brothers saw it, they wouldn’t see it until it had already gotten what it wanted. It was the part that knew the truth.

  Allison was the person I didn’t have to change for. We really could try to see it through.

  Well, we really could have tried to see it through.

  Literally the only thing I had changed about my behavior since Allison came into the picture was just not seeing other girls. And even then, that wasn’t a sacrifice; sex with Allison was so great that, if anything, it was a massive enhancement on my life, not some noble effort to placate a lady. Everything else had either remained the same or had become better.

  To call her my girlfriend… well, that would have been the end destination, wouldn’t it have been? But that was too late now. Allison had made her decision, and it was readily apparent by her tone right back up there she wasn’t coming up.

  “Fucking hell, Allison,” I growled as I turned on my bike.

  I gave her about a half-dozen seconds after I turned on my bike to see if she might rush outside, realizing her mistake, and attempt to make things right. I know I sounded like a little school kid in that moment, trying to passive-aggressively get her to appear rather than just approaching again. But I didn’t care.

  Neither, though, did Allison. She, not surprisingly, didn’t come outside. I finally admitted defeat, driving off with a shake of my head.

  As soon as I got to the main roads, I drove like a fucking bullet. The spot where the local roads were thirty-five miles per hour? I took that at over sixty. The one stretch leading to our club that was fifty? I did well over ninety. It was a little dangerous—OK, a lot dangerous—but I was Zeke Kinsmen. I didn’t get hurt on a bike, let alone die or have anything else happen to me. I commanded the bike and I commanded the roads. Everything else fell before me.

  I needed that feeling of control. I needed that sensation of having dominion over this town as a bike rider. I needed that rush of freedom and power that being on the bike, feeling the wind brush against my face, and sensing the vibrations and power between my legs.

  I sure wasn’t getting it anywhere else. Certainly not with her.

  I walked in to the club, deciding that now that I was back in my element, I was going to just turn this night into fuck Zeke, get drinks night. I could already see some hot, incredibly sexy friends of the club walking in, and it was high time for me to get back into my element.

  Ain’t none of them Allison, though.

  I hated that that thought came to mind. I wasn’t even trying to play devil’s advocate with myself; it was like the adult in my head had decided to grow stronger and start fighting back against the kid in my head. What the fuck was this? I was supposed to be the goofy player of the Kinsmen, not the rising adult.

  In any case, as soon as I walked in, I had my free-flowing, wisecracking smiling, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude back enough that at least no one would suspect anything. And right off the bad, I got my first test.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Jaxson shouted from behind the bar, cleaning some glasses and doing some prep work for the evening.

  I greeted some guys on the way in and then went behind the bar to meet him. He looked all coiled up and pissed; this was not the time to joke with him.

  That was, if I was anyone else. But I was Zeke and I was going through a bit of a shit day, so I held nothing back.

  “Relax,” I said, wearing the trademarked Zeke smirk. “You need to get laid. Isabelle is clearly slacking.”

  “Fuck off Zeke,” Jaxson said with a roar. “I’m dealing with a bunch of shit. In fact, we’re delaying the opening of the club tonight.”

  “The fuck?”

  “We were waiting for you. The officers and Simon and Matthew are already in there. Get in there, I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Jax—”

  I didn’t even finish his name. The glare in his eyes, that presidential, “do what I fucking say” intense gaze compelled me to immediately head over. I could see that whatever was going down was getting ugly, and it was high time to pay attention.

  I walked into the meeting room, hands in my pockets, half a smirk on my face. But inside the room, nobody so much as snorted at me upon entrance. Many of them had crossed arms, one leg crossed over the other, and their heads bowed. No one had the appearance of anything resembling even contentment, let alone glee, drunkenness, or excitement. Jaxson shut the door behind him before I was even in my seat, and he cleared his throat.

  “I warned you all the Cavaros were coming,” he said. “We’ve had numerous reports that they’ve started to take over a nightclub on the other side of town, The Red Floor. We think they’re using these as a sort of base to conduct their operations. But if so, it means that an attack might be imminent any moment. Their previous damage to us has come even though they’ve been relatively far away. The few individuals who did attack, such as Uncle Nic, were lone wolves; but now, the group, or what remains of it, appears to be concentrating there.”

  “So we could attack them there,” Simon interjected. “One clear swoop of the area, and—”

  “It’ll be well guarded, and like this place, there are civilians there,” Jaxson said. “We’re not going to attack it at night. Dad would never, ever allow for such a thing.”

  We all nodded in agreement. I liked Simon’s idea, and I wasn’t as above fighting fire with fire if need be, but I wasn’t the president. Damn good thing, too—I liked being the bartender and having first dibs on the pussy here.

  Like Allison.

  Goddamnit Zeke, just focus and find someone else so you can move on.

  “In the interim, I’m going to send Beast and a few others over the next couple of days to check it out,” Jaxson said. “However, I called this meeting because we need to start planning on an preemptive attack run.”


  I gulped. Most of our time in the Kinsmen had only been for reactive purposes, just because this town never mandated violence very much. In fact, the past couple of months with Grace’s capture and then Uncle Nic was about the worst we had ever seen; before that, most of our trouble had simply come down to drunk jackasses who thought they could take us. That usually ended with a humorous punch to the face.

  “I’m thinking before the end of next week, we need to plan a strike. However, we need to make sure we pick a night the club is either closed or very unpopulated; it being a nightclub is going to make things tricky on us. We can’t exactly strike during the day, and we’re not going to take out civilians. So my vote is this Monday. All in favor?”

  Absolutely no one hesitated in raising their hand. That worked for me as well. It would give me a couple of days to get over the things with Allison, find a couple of gals for the night, and move forward.

  “Good,” Jaxson said. “Everyone except Beast is free to go. He and I will come up with a strategy, but plan on it involving heavy weaponry. And Zeke?”

  I looked at Jaxson in surprise.

  “Watch the bar tonight. Don’t let any of the crazies get too close.”

  I smirked and thought of saying something like a real smartass, but given no one else was so much as coughing, I just nodded.

  “Not too close,” I said.

  More words came to the tip of my tongue, but I held them in, more interested in maintaining the seriousness of the meeting than in cracking an inappropriate joke. Jaxson waved his hand, and I headed back to the bar, adopting my usual smirk and smile.

  The night hadn’t picked up yet, in part for the obvious reason that many of the people who would be guzzling beer and downing shots had just gotten out of the meeting. But there were still a few girls roaming around, waiting for the boys to appear so they could make their “pitches” to be the one to be taken.