Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (57 page)

Chapter Eleven

Kim

Kane got in the driver seat and started the car. We headed back to the main road again for gas and after a few miles of driving, pulled into what had to be one of the most Podunk looking gas stations in America. Two ancient pumps sat in front of a wooden building that even had chinking putty between the horizontal boards. An immense American flag that was probably made for a towering state department skyscraper swung over the front door, just in case anyone forgot which country they were in.

When the Jeep stopped I kicked the door open and hopped out. “I’ll be in the restroom, then I’ll check out what they have in the way of food and supplies.”

He nodded and pulled his wallet out. “Good. Pick up a few days’ worth of non-perishables. I’m not sure how stocked up it’ll be where we’re going.”

“No problem.” I turned quickly around and headed inside without taking his money.

“Here’s the list and some cash,” he called after me.

“I can manage,” I said, and kept walking. I’d been out on backpack-only camping trips. I had a good idea of how to prepare for hunkering down. I needed a flashlight with extra batteries, lighters or fire starters, a half-decent first aid kit, a sewing kit, tie wraps or bungee cords, water, canned or dried foods, a can opener, basic eating utensils, and personal hygiene items, some of which I already had in my backpack.

The store didn’t have much, but there were a few small kerosene lamps, matches, flashlights, a tiny smartphone-sized first aid kit, matches and cans of food with pop lids. It would have to do. Also, I could mentally cross out the need for a can opener.

My arms nearly full, I headed for the front of the store to check out. I placed the arm-full of supplies on the counter and the grizzled looking guy working the counter got busy at the cash register.

“Do you have a bathroom?” I asked after he rang up the things and took my cash. 

Without lifting his eyes to look at me, he nodded toward a side door. He pushed my paper bags at me and set the change in my hand.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I’ll be back for these in a minute.”

The back of the structure was cluttered with piles of old tires that had to be navigated like a maze in order to get to the white door around the side, emblazoned with a picture of a toilet. On a second thought, I stopped. Peeing behind a tree was better than facing whatever was behind that dirty door. Stepping gingerly across the trash-strewn ground, I set my sights on the line of trees not far away.

I was still half devoured by the tires when I noticed some shadows approaching the side of the building. There were five of them altogether, and my gut told me to duck down behind the closest pile of old tires. I saw their faces when they cleared the building. None were familiar. They split up, and two of them walked toward where I was hiding.

“Get up, Blondie,” one of them said, presumably to me as they both were Hispanic with dark hair.

He reached a hand out and a chill went through my body as his sticky fingers wrapped around my forearm. I stood up slowly, and the man was rough when he pulled me to his side.

“Let her go and we can all walk out of here in one piece,” Kane’s voice boomed from behind them. I slowly turned around. He had a gun drawn in each hand, one pointing to each of their heads. The two men froze, as did I. Kane nodded at me. “Come over here, Kim.”

I started moving but the guy holding on to my arm didn’t let go.

“She’s coming with us,” he told Kane.

Kane answered, “The hell she is.”

“We’ll see what my three other friends have to say,” the guy answered confidently.

“Oh, you mean the three knuckleheads who went inside to look for me? Your friends are, what should I call it? Let’s just say unconscious people aren’t good as backup.”

“You’re a dead man,” the man’s friend growled.

That was when their sixth friend stepped out the back door with a sawed-off shotgun trained on the back of Kane’s head.

To Be Continued…

Continues in ‘
DOG Part Two
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Alpha Bad Boy Romance

Part 1 of 2

By

Bella Wild

COPYRIGHT

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

Bad Boy Biker 1

First edition. January 2016.

Copyright © Bella Wild.

Written by Bella Wild.

All Rights Reserved.

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Bella Wild

Prologue

Phoenix, Arizona. 2006

Nineteen-year-old Jace Roma stood before an Arizona State judge. His age meant nothing to them. They still slapped shackles on his ankles and wrists as though he was a cold-blooded killer. So much for innocent until proven guilty. He couldn’t even be too upset about that part. The truth was he actually was innocent. The only reason he found himself in this position, ready to give up a good portion of his life, was because of one thing—loyalty.

They could call him whatever they wanted. He was doing this to help a brother, and fuck anyone who tried to talk him out of it. He stood there, awaiting his sentence, because his court-appointed defense attorney failed him. All the idiot had to do was demonstrate reasonable doubt, that Jace didn’t have malicious intent when a man died as a result of a bar-room fight. The attorney had failed him. The jury didn’t help either. They took one look at his demeanor and tattoos, and decided he was guilty when they saw him—a mean-looking biker gang member. He was fucked the second he walked into the room the first day of the trial.

Now, as he stood before the judge to learn his fate, Jace knew he was being judged for more than his actions on the night in question. The judge would make an example of him. He could see it in the man’s eyes as he stared at him, looked down at him in every sense of the word from his smug, self-righteous throne at the front of that courtroom. To that judge, Jace was some punk biker kid standing before him in rebellion and defiance. The judge stared at his tattoos and facial hair. The look on Jace’s face didn’t help. He was always hearing he had a face that looked like he was daring someone to start with him.

He waited for the judge to finally say something, and took the time to reflect on what actually happened that night, not the version that came out in court. Which was partly his doing too, given he had never even touched the man who died.

The night that turned into a living hell.

Yes, that’s what he should have called it. Jace and few of his brothers from The Raging Danger MC had taken their president, Roger ‘Ragged’ Williams, to a local bar. It was a night for celebrating. Ragged’s old lady had just delivered twin boys, and his MC brothers were only too willing to stand with him and commemorate the event by doing what they did best—drinking and raising a little bit of hell.

All the members saw how focused Ragged had become on his old lady in the months before the twins were born. Now that they were healthy and safe, it was time to let the other old ladies in the MC help out so the brothers could reconnect the way they always did.

The night started out like almost any other night out drinking. The guys parked their Harleys out front, and went in through the back like they always did. They grabbed a few rounds for Ragged, and Jace sat back with a pint, mainly to keep an eye on the crowd. Jace’s job tonight was to keep his head on straight and make sure everyone else did, too. There were always people looking to test a biker’s patience. Jace was usually the one to convince them—or his brothers—to back down and save it for another day.

He didn’t even see the fight brewing that night. He wasn’t sure how it started, but out of nowhere Ragged broke a beer bottle over a man’s head. Jace and the other brothers managed to get them outside. This was their regular bar, so they were not about to start breaking shit just for the sake of it. Ragged took the man down hard on the concrete sidewalk out back. By the time the brothers pulled Ragged up off the sidewalk, the other man was stock still.

Jace was the one who noticed the man wasn’t breathing. One of the boys dropped down beside the man to check for a pulse. He looked up at them and shook his head.

Jace looked over at Ragged. This couldn’t be happening, but it was. He had to do something fast. When it came to him, he turned to the other brothers, “Get him out of here. I’ll handle it.”

Ragged wasn’t having it, but in under a minute they heard police sirens.

Jace reminded him of his newborn twins. “They need you. Your old lady would kill us all if we let you go down for something like this. Let me handle this.”

Ragged was still adamant, but the other members agreed and finally got him the hell out of there. The police found Jace standing over the other man’s lifeless body when they arrived. Jace kept his mouth shut, and the cops did what they do best. They took one look at Jace and assumed he had done it. He kept his mouth shut when they shoved him into the back of their squad car, questioned him, charged him, and even after they put him in a room with his court-appointed lawyer. He let the system do the heavy lifting, and because he didn’t talk, that system sucked him in and spit him out the other side as a guilty man.

Better Jace than Ragged.

Looking at this judge, he was certain now that the punishment would be harsh. The courts enjoyed making an example out of men who looked like him.

The fat old judge leaned forward and finally spoke. After the usual preamble to introduce the case, prosecutor, defense attorney and other details, the judge went on to speak directly with Jace.

“Jace Roma, before I announce your sentence, have you anything to share with the court?” the judge asked him.

“Your Honor. All I can say is it was an accident, and I am deeply sorry to the man’s family.”

The judge sat back in his chair and looked at Jace, appearing to consider Jace’s words for a moment. “My courtroom is a part of a sentencing system. Every case is difference, and every guilty party likes to think this system should go easy on him or her. If I were to try and tailor my sentence to fit every conceivable wrinkle, fact or circumstance of each case, my sentencing procedure would soon become unworkable. My goal is to never compromise the certainty of exacting a punishment, and especially for you, Jace Roma, I want to ensure this sentence is seen as a deterrent. Anyone thinking they can pick a fight at a licensed establishment, a fight that ends up killing another human being, will not be excused by this court, especially if the accused is uncooperative throughout the proceedings.”

He stopped and looked around the room to get his point across. “Police reports note there was no evidence on your person to corroborate that you ever touched the victim. You have never taken the opportunity to clear up this inconsistency, and I suppose this is one factor to explain why a jury of your peers found you guilty of aggravated assault and involuntary manslaughter. The reason for that is a man is dead after suffering excessive lacerations, blunt force trauma and head trauma after he was seen leaving the establishment in question with a group of individuals, including the defendant.”

The judge took a breath. “For a number of reasons, which include my concern about your lack of cooperation, the nature of your offence, and your refusal to help the court to adequately understand the motivating factors underlying it the offence, I can also say I have serious reservations concerning your prospects of rehabilitation. Nevertheless, in light of your age, and with the sincere hope that these matters can one day be clarified, along with the irrefutable fact that one day you will be free again, I will recommend that some component of your rehabilitation be considered just as seriously as this sentence.”

Jace wasn’t even sure what the judge was talking about anymore. He just wanted to get the fucking sentencing hearing over and done with so he could move on with his life after whatever time he had to serve.

“Jace Roma, after careful consideration of your case, I hereby sentence you to serve seven years for manslaughter and five years for aggravated assault, with time to be served concurrently for a minimum of five years, and no more than twelve years in an Arizona State Prison.”

The judge brought down his gavel, and that was it. Jace’s fate was sealed.