A LIL' LESS LOST (The Kingsmen Book 2)














A Lil' Less Lost


Book Two

                                         The Kingsmen MC






Tara Oakes


This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.


First edition. October 1, 2014


Copyright c. 2014 Tara Oakes


Written by Tara Oakes


Published by Smashwords



Book Cover: Image from Tatiana Vila, www.viladesign.net






This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.




When I sat down to start writing Jay and Lil's story, I had no idea it would turn into what it has. This has become such a fantastic journey for me. I started it alone, with only my laptop and a daydream.  Along the way, I've met and connected with so many great people, fans, and readers. 

This book is a collaborative effort with the great team around me now.  They shared in all the  craziness and hard work it took to publish this book and let Jay and Lil's story continue to unfold.  I hope they are as proud as I am of finished book and look forward to all the craziness we'll share creating Book three in the Kingsmen MC series.

First, I must thank Laura Classi, editor-extrodinaire.  I must say, she probably went through a couple of red pens while working on the first edit.  But, her patience and hard work is immeasurable.  I truly hope she feels the same sense of accomplishment that I do with thie finished product.

Next, a couple of crazy Beta readers were along for this journey.  Leslie... I'm so thankful for all of your input.  You went through quiet a bit during this book and I am very thankful that you still found the time to read for me.  I know you're going to make it through this and I can't wait to send you book after book to keep you busy.  Although she's as big of a spoiler whore as I am, and knows the plan for my characters... I hope to throw a few surprises her way and keep her on her toes.

Alison.  What to say about Alison....  The first thing, I wish you had been around for book one!  I'm so proud of 'A Lil' Less Broken' but can only wonder at the changes I would have made if I had had your input then.  Well, eyes forward!  At least I have you now.  Get ready for book three!

Jen.  She may be busy with four kids of her own, and tons of animals to take care of... but, she managed to carve out a bit of time for me.  Her input has been more than helpful and I love how she thinks out of the box.  The Biker Friendly Reference was all her idea, as she was not an MC reader and had no idea what I was throwing her way.  Not only did it help many of you.... but it helped her when she met a large group of real life hot MC brothers traveling across country this past summer.  Real life bikers!  Tons of them.  I was so jealous!

Next, I need to thank all of my Trollops.  The street team is pretty new, but man are they some busy ladies!  Click, click, click.... keep on clickin' ladies!  I can count on you guys to perk me up with the pics you guys post!  We can always use a few more Trollops, so if you are looking for a place to chat with some other ladies who have an affliction for bad boys with tats and love to post pics of 'em in between pimpin posts, come find us at Tara's Teasing Trollops.




Thanks to all of the bloggers that have been so, so supportive to this newbie author.  I've learned so much from working with all of you and  thank you all very much for all of the book love.  One of these bloggers, Jordan Marie, of
Not Another Damn Blog
cannot be thanked enough.  How she has enough time in her day to deal with us is beyond me.  She has an answer for every question and works tirelessly to help others.  Thanks Jordan.  Thanks for everything.  These voices in my head find their way out onto the keyboard.  I can't wait to hear what the voices in yours turn out as.

Finally... Desire'.  Without knowing what I was getting myself into when I published 'A Lil' Less Broken
in July,  I soon learned just how much was involved. I would never be able to do it on my own, and all of these great girls that I have mentioned so far have helped tremendously.  But none so much as Desiree.  She has been my right hand, someone to bounce things off of, and a terrific personal assistant.  Writers are blessed to have these assistants help manage this crazy book filled world and I am truly blessed to have Desiree.  She doesn't realize just how damn good she is, and she is irreplaceable.  I may have written the books, but she is the one to make sure you know about them.  She's got a talent and can work her way around social media like it's nobody's business!  Often, we end up in Facebook jail... but we have a fun time doing it.  Now... I must find a way to get her a meet and greet with her Collin....

My Husband cannot be thanked enough for willfully giving me up at times to disappear into my writing.  It's been a lot of long nights, and busy days, but he has been so supportive and helpful allowing me to give it my all... even if that means I'm borrowing some of that “all” from other areas.  He's often the one to read your reviews first, and shoot me a text that a new one has come in.  It is absolutely adorable how he looks out for me.  Now... if only I can get him to agree to get a tat on those fantastic biceps of his... oh well, baby steps. 

And finally, thank you all raking the time to open this book and take time out of your own lives to share in the Kingsmen's.  As an avid reader myself, I know what it's like to select a book and settle in for a good ride.  I can only hope that I've given you all that.







The life of a biker, although foreign to most of us, is a very intriguing subculture with its own laws, rules, language, and traditions.  Hopefully this reference will help the rest of us get to know a bit more about them before we take a peek into the lives of Lil's and Jay, two people born and raised in the secret world of the M.C., full of passion, loyalty, fierce family bonds and... danger.




1%er -

The small population of biker clubs that consider themselves outside the law. They often run operations in gambling, guns, prostitution, smuggling, paid protection, drugs, and more. They are considered to be the baddest of the bad, and the roughest of the rough.


Brother -

Club members within the same club refer to each other as “Brother.” They have made a vow to protect and take care of each other as family.



An automobile, usually a van.


Church –

A club meeting to be attended by patched brothers only. Most clubs run as a democracy and important matters are voted on during meetings.


Club Mama –

Women who regularly attend events and interact with the M.C. They may aspire to become an Ol' Lady one day but do not yet have a patch holder. They may spend time with many different bikers within a club but have loyalty to the club first before a man. They are considered to be a little bit more respected than a “Sweet Butt”.


Cut -

Refers to the the leather vest worn by most bikers in a club.



Acronym for Motorcycle Club.


Ol' Lady –

A term of affection used for the main woman, or wife of a club member. She is given his protection and is considered off limits to any other biker. Women are not considered club members, but rather have associations to the club through their ol' man, or their patch holder.


Nomad –

A member of an MC that is currently without a specific charter. They are still considered a brother but they choose not to offer specific allegiance to a designated charter; instead they are loyal to the club organization on the whole.



Patched in –

When a prospect completes his initiation period and is voted in to become a full-fledged club member, or “Brother”


Patches –

The cloth patches or embroidered designs added to bikers’ vests, or cuts, that identify which club  he belongs to, the location of their specific charter, and their position in it. Other patches can be added to signify milestone events. Example: If the member has ever served prison time for his club, or killed for it.


Piece –

A gun.


Pig -

A law enforcement officer.



Prospect –

Those who desire to become full fledged patched members must complete an initiation period as a prospect before a final vote is taken as to whether or not they can fully join. Prospects usually are given the worst assignments and must prove their loyalty and worth to the club.


Rag –

Another term for a leather vest, or cut, but worn by a woman, given to her by her ol' man to signify that she is his “property” and is off limits. An ol' lady's rag does not usually bear the club name, logo or charter as she is not a club member. It simply states “Property of_____”.


Sweet Butt –

A term used to describe a woman who is “used” by members in a club. They are usually welcome at club parties, or “Brother only” parties, but they are never allowed at family events. It is a derogatory term and there is very little respect for these ladies by club members.


Tat –

A tattoo. Full-fledged club members, or brothers, often have the club patches permanently tattooed on their bodies to signify they are members even if they’re not wearing their cuts. An ol' lady will usually have a tattoo to honor her ol' man to signify that she is his property even if she is not wearing her rag.









Thank God.
  I've never found myself to be a truly religious person, but at this moment I would thank any god in existence. She was alive... I had known it in my gut. I almost allowed myself to believe that she could have been taken from me; but she is alive. Now I've got to fucking find her before that changes.

The morgue had not been what I expected, too many scary movies and T.V. shows to thank for that. I was prepared for some dark, dreary cement basement with remnants of death scattered around. Instead, it had been a bright, sterile, and organized space filled with office supplies and computers. The faint antiseptic scent couldn't be masked though. Even though I was holding my breath in anticipation of possible heartbreak, the scent broke through.

I had no idea who that girl on the metal platform was, but the only thing I cared about at this point was that it wasn't my baby, it wasn't Lil's. Sure she was about the same size, same deep brown hair color, and looked to be around the same age, but she was definitely not my girl. I couldn't concern myself with the true identity of that poor thing right now. I need to focus on the only thing that matters.

The elevator door opened and immediately the loud sounds of unorganized chaos and mutiny greeted me as I walked out into the lobby area. Leather-clad men and crying women pushed and swarmed their way around the room searching for any tidbit of information and comfort from each other.

There was too much electrified energy in the room for many of the familiar faces to notice that I had arrived. Pulling my two fingers to my lips, I whistled out the loudest cat call I could manage to break the frenzy and draw their attention my way.

“It's not her! It's not her!” I bellowed out to the sea of grief-stricken faces staring blankly toward me. A pack mentality had set in at some point and I could sense that my words were slow to register.

My pop rushed toward me leaving my mom to collect her tissues and dab at her wet cheeks, several of the ol' ladies taking his place in resuming his now absent comfort. His own eyes were red but they were dry. I couldn't have been more than five years old when he told me for the first time that real men don't cry.

He grabbed hold of my neck and pulled me in, clasping hard around my shoulders. “You sure? They all said it was her...”

I nodded blankly, robotically. “It's not her. I saw it with my own eyes... it's not her.”

My pop took in my words, carefully mulling them over. I could see the thoughts running around behind his gaze. This was not my dad right now this was my club President, and he was figuring this shit out. He swallowed hard, moving into action.

Whipping around, he started calling out to the stunned mob in front of us. “Dewey, you call the rounds. I want at least fifteen men from every fucking charter here by tomorrow.” He methodically moved from brother to brother instructing and rallying the troops.

“Tiny... you need to tell your ma what's going on. I want you to stay with her in case Lil's tries to make contact.” The huge man looked dumbfounded by the recent revelation. The poor guy went from mourning his sister to taking orders in barely sixty seconds.

“Everybody else... women and children are locked down at the clubhouse as of now. I want two men staked out at Butch's house, Tiny's house, Jay's and mine.” People started to move about, taking direction and acting on our new sense of purpose. It wasn't often that shit hit the fan, but when it did, this club knew how to close ranks pretty fucking fast.

Butch took my pops and me aside, barely able to hide his emotion. “This ain't fucking right, Vince... you know she got caught up in this shit with Slayers. We need to go find them right fuckin' now and get my daughter!” The man was on the verge of madness. Butch may not have won fucking Father of the Year but I had no doubt that he would sell his soul to the devil himself right now to bring his baby girl back safe.

My pops held the poor man up. “We gotta be smart about this, brother... every step gotta be right on the fucking money. We don't know that they have her, but if they do, I'm not gonna give him any damn reason to do something stupid here.” Butch bit his lip and cursed under his breath at his president before my pop could finish. “We're gonna find her. We're gonna get her back home. I need you to fall in line.. wait for the manpower to show up before we make a move,” my father finished.

Turning back to me, pops added, “Help him back to the clubhouse. Church in one hour... make sure everyone knows” before turning and heading back to my mom.

Butch barely waited for my pop to clear out before he started on me. “You gonna let this happen, boy? I give you my daughter and you gonna let this fuckin' happen?”

I pulled Butch's arm sharply so that we were huddled, voices too low to be detected. “You follow him to clubhouse. Keep him busy, stall him if he starts looking for me.”

Butch's eyes grew, absorbing my hushed words and nodded in silent agreement. “You find her... you bring her back. I swear I'll fucking kill you myself if you don't.”

I squeezed his shoulder in camaraderie. Although I had no reason to doubt his threats were real, I welcomed them. If I couldn't save her, then I had no reason left to live. He was a father, desperate to find his child and keep her safe. Little did he know, so was I.  




I peeled out onto the main highway, doubling my speed and racing along, pushing my bike past its normal limits.  It was too much to take in. I had shut down the moment I picked up the phone and heard that she took off. The club had provided me with more than enough experience in fucked up shit to know that I needed to block it all out, go on autopilot. Every second fuckin' mattered and I would be of no use to her if my head got too messed up to think straight.              

The roaring of my motor edged me along as I willed myself not to feel... picturing the blood pumping in my veins turning to ice. My muscles turned to steel, my anger turned to bullets.

At first I had thought that maybe she bolted again, even though she seemed different this time, stronger. But what else could have explained why she would just take off? Finding the pregnancy test left on the bathroom counter added fuel to my suspicions.  Maybe it was too much for her? Too much too fast and she needed to get away again.

Her voice was all I needed to hear to know that she hadn't left of her own free will.  She answered her cell but hung up before I was able to get any real information from her.  Still, her voice gave enough away... there was panic to it.  Anger and sadness. I set that new hot shit prospect on combing the police scanners and hacking into the traffic cameras to try to track her down. Less than twenty minutes later an anonymous 911 call came in about a shooting at the old plastic factory.

The first responders called in a chopper to airlift a female gunshot wound to the E.R.  That's when I shut down. That's when the inner hunter, the killer in me, took over. I knew that my baby was in some deep shit.




Lil's had been one of the last of her friends to turn eighteen, with each one of them celebrating and living it up to mark the occasion. When it was Christine’s turn, Lil's tagged along for yet another girls’ night out. With her own birthday about four months away, she played the dutiful best friend and planned something to mark Christine's big day. I had never liked the bitch. Something about the way she looked at me, flirted just a little too much, laughed just a little too loud... no way for a true friend of Lil's to be acting around her friend's man.

I had no doubt that if I wanted to, I could get her to drop her panties for me with no more than a wink and a fuckin' smile. Some best friend. But, Lil's swore she was the closest friend she had and even though I'd been out of town a lot on runs for the club and wanted to spend the night alone with her, Lil's went out with her girls to celebrate.

I knew they would be bar hopping downtown. Lil's wasn't much of a drinker, even with her fake I.D. I laughed when I had found it, opening her wallet to put some cash in. She hated taking money from me, but was never very good at keeping track of exactly how much cash she had on hand. Every couple of days I would slip another few twenties in, and she never seemed to catch on. She managed to get it from some geeky kid at school, and it was probably one of the worst excuses for a fake I.D. I had ever seen. All she had to do was ask me and I would have hooked her up with a pretty legit one. But, Lil's liked her independence and I'm sure it made her feel pretty good to get one on her own, so I never let on that I knew about it.

I knew Lil's was a good girl, but here she was dressed to kill, stepping out on me to hang out with a bunch of girls that tried to act older by making spectacles of themselves. No matter how much shit they piled on their face or how tight they made their clothes, any guy with half a fucking brain could tell that they weren't much older than jailbait.

I had just bought my house a few weeks earlier and boxes and shit were still piled high in all the rooms. The bitch that Tiny was seeing decided to fuck around with her boss, so my newly single best friend was chilling with me tonight, drinking a few beers, ordering a pizza and watching the boxing match on demand.

I loved Lil's. I hadn't gotten around to telling her word for word yet, but she knew. Hell, I bought her a fucking house for Christ's sake. Don't get me wrong... ma had made it pretty comfortable to stay home, with doing all my laundry, making home cooked meals, and giving me plenty of privacy when I needed it. But something about a twenty four year old guy trying to get to third base with his girl in his parents’ fucking basement just reeked of loser to me.

I had saved more money than most middle-aged assholes could ever hope to and decided it was time to get a place of my own. The club kept me busy, but it also kept my pockets full of cash. I didn't think twice about throwing a pile of it down on a house that I knew Lil's had always had her eye on.

Butch was my sworn brother, a fellow club member, but I wasn't in denial about his shortcomings as a father. He loved his kids, but love don't always make up for a two-bit dad who lets his kids bounce around between him and his ex like a fucking ping pong ball. Marie, Lil's mom and Butch's ex, was constantly moving from rental to rental and Butch spent more time behind bars than most Kingsmen. I wanted to give Lil's what she had always wanted, a home of her own. A safe place that she could always come to and always call hers. The added bonus of not having parents and a brother lurking around wasn't lost on us either.   

We were getting serious and I was being more patient than I ever thought remotely possible. Hopefully Lil's and I would make good use of the privacy and my new bed soon, before I fucking burst from one more case of blue balls. But, here I was on a fucking Friday night eating pizza and drinking beer with her fucking brother instead of finally burying myself in her and breaking in my new mattress. Tiny was my best friend and I loved him like my own brother, but he wasn't my first choice in companionship this fine evening. Nevertheless, he came through like a goddamned champ when I called him and invited him over because my girl ditched me for the night. He even brought the beer.

I held out my bottle and cheered him, silently thanking my buddy when my phone rang, interrupting our little moment. Lil's number flashed on the screen. I hit the call button while watching the second round of the match on my new flat screen. “Hey babe... miss me already?”

Silence. I checked my phone to make sure that the call was still connected. “Jay?” Sweet voice, but definitely not Lil's. I sat forward, tensing a little bit. Something was off. “Jay, it's Christine...”

I grabbed the remote and muted the T.V. Tiny dropped his pizza onto his plate, with a mouth full of crust and called out “The fuck?” I held out my finger to him, signaling him to hold on.

“Christine, where's Lil's?” Something was definitely wrong and Tiny was catching wind of it from my end of the conversation.

“She's here... she's just a little sick. I... I had to use her phone... mine's dead,” Christine explained. “Shit, Lil's... noooo... not on my new shoes!”

Fucking bitch! I could hear Lil's hacking up in the background and this chick was worried about her fucking shoes?

“What bar are you guys at? I'm coming right now,” I shouted.

There was a long delay. Too long. “Well, we kind of left the bar. I was invited to a party and everything was fine, but then Lil's started feeling sick and now she won't stop puking.”


The girl's voice was shaking now, unsure how to answer me. “The Beta Kai house on campus. We're in the bathroom.”

Fuck. “Do not move. Do not leave that room, do you hear me? I'll be right there. And Christine?”  I tried to hold back my anger, afraid the girl might bolt and leave Lil's alone before I could get there. “You leave her side and you fucking answer to me.”

Tiny was already up and grabbing his keys, waiting for me, and I slammed the door behind us. We took my truck, leaving our bikes parked. With Lil's sick and in no condition to ride and who knows how many of her friends that would need rides home, we needed the extra seats.

The Clearwater campus of South Carolina State University was twenty minutes away, but with the absence of traffic this time of night, we were able to make it in fifteen. The fraternity houses were on the main road heading into campus. I took an educated guess that Beta Kai was the one with all the kids in front.

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