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Authors: London Casey,Karolyn James

Wild Blaze

BOOK: Wild Blaze
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Welcome to world
of
BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB

~

 

A romance novella
by London Casey

 

London Casey is
the pen name for bestselling romance author Karolyn James

 

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James
 
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WILD BLAZE

A Back Down Devil
MC Novella

 

All Brody Coners
knows, or cares about, is his loyalty to the Back Down Devil MC patch on his
back. Nothing else matters.

 

So when he bumps
into a jittery, but very sexy nurse who is trying to save one of his brother's
lives, he's surprised that he

s
taken back by her. Not just by her beauty, but by the secret he can see she's
hiding.

 

The absolute last
thing Heather Langlin needs in her messed up life is another man telling her what
to do. If it wasn't stressful enough to have an abusive boyfriend who thinks
he's greater than any living man in the world, now a biker - a really hot biker
- is trailing her, asking her questions that have her on edge.

 

The more Brody
pushes, the more Heather gives. And soon her secret forces Brody to protect
Heather and save Down Devil MC from another violent tragedy.

one.

 

When the rumble of the engine died,
that

s when reality came
back. And reality was sometimes best left for someone else to deal with. For
Brody, he rode the streets of Frelen where needed, and when, letting the Back
Down Devil patch on his leather cut speak louder than his words ever really
needed to be. It was nice to fit in, nice to have something that felt like a
family, but the offset was that there were bullets waiting to break his skin
and slice up his insides.

Brody stepped off his motorcycle
and went into the small store. The dive store used to sell gas; the gas pumps
were now rusted skeletons that remained in the middle of the cracked lot,
chains around them. There was no more gas in the pumps, even though one of the
chains had been cut. Probably some burned out, druggie looking for either a
cheap high or to use the gas as a form of currency for his next high.

A small bell rang at the top of the
door. Behind the counter stood a beautiful young woman. Her hair was blonde and
a little messy, nothing a brush and two minutes wouldn

t fix. Her face was round and innocent, her blue
eyes blazing. It was a damn wonder that something bad hadn

t happened around here with her,
but maybe nobody gave a shit about the little store. The woman behind the
counter had no idea what her beauty and body possessed, and that was a little
scary.

But it wasn

t Brody

s
problem.

He walked down the second aisle and
stopped at the chips and snacks. He touched a bag of corn chips and smiled. The
date on the bag said they were best used three months ago. That didn

t surprise Brody. Everything in
the store was probably expired. The back wall contained the refrigerated parts.
The place used to sell milk, chocolate milk, orange juice, and even at one
point, eggs. That part was shut off now, a stray gallon of
who the fuck
knows
remaining. The other part of the refrigerator unit held drinks, off
brand sodas, water, and energy drinks.

Brody used to come here and rob the
shit out of the place. The corn chips were his favorite. He

d fill up his shirt and his
pants as much as he could, knowing it was his only chance at having a meal for
the day. Old man Ronnie was always preoccupied with his small TV and game
shows, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his right hand scrubbing a  penny
against a lottery ticket. His fingertips used to be stained black from
scratching the lottery tickets all damn day.

There was one time when old man
Ronnie caught Brody stealing. He

d
gotten too cocky and tried to steal some ice cream from the case (which was now
unplugged, empty, and had a faded cardboard sign of a man on a horse puffing a
cigarette). As Brody left the store, ice cream plopped out of his shirt and old
man Ronnie lost his shit. So Brody turned and pulled out a gun. That shut the
old man up and Brody was never bothered again.

Years hardened Brody

s heart but left a small soft
spot for this place. The amount of shit he took was a lot, but more so, it kept
Brody alive.

Brody put the corn chips back and
walked to the counter. The beautiful woman behind the counter was named Ana.
The tilted name tag stuck to her tit said so.


Hey,

she said, her voice silky and
innocent.


Hey
yourself,

Brody said and
grinned.

What are you
still doing here, Ana? There

s
got to be something more out there for you.


Papa
needs me here,

Ana said.

You know this place. It

s all he has. Besides me. If I
left
…”

Ana shook her head.

Brody had heard rumors of where Ana
came from. Old man Ronnie had finally hit on a lottery ticket twenty years ago.
Thirty grand or something like that. Not really a jackpot, but enough to make
an addict feel really good. So good that the old man closed the store, put up a
sign that read
fuck you, I

m
living large
, and left. Brody was too young to know all of this, but he
remembered his taking him to an auto garage instead of taking him to school, where
a group of guys would talk, drink, and do some crazy shit. That

s where Brody heard the rumors
about old man Ronnie. The old man went to Vegas and blew his thirty grand on
gambling, pussy, and a hotel. If that wasn

t
enough, a year later, a woman showed up with a baby. She put the carseat on the
counter and told old man Ronnie the baby was his. She said it was bad enough
her body was ruined, she didn

t
need her mind and social life ruined by some kid that cried and shit all the
time.

Welcome to the world, baby Ana.

But the old man took care of Ana.
He loved her. And she turned out to be a beautiful young woman. Rightfully so,
considering her father paid a lot to fuck her mother.


I
get it, sweetheart,

Brody
said.

Sorry I asked. Just
making sure you know there

s
a big world out there.


Big
and scary,

Ana said.

Then again, it

s pretty scary here sometimes.


Quiet,
huh?

Brody heard the sound of
motorcycles and he backed up and looked out the front of the door. There were
two motorcycles approaching. Brody recognized them quickly and saw they were
Lane and Jack.

Fucking prospects.

They were like little puppies
looking for their way home. Unable to make decisions on their own. Worried
about dying and fantasizing about the life and the women.


Who
is it?

Ana asked.

She leaned forward and bit on her
bottom lip. Her breasts pressed against her shirt. Brody stared only for a few
seconds. Bad enough he had robbed old man Ronnie for years, he didn

t need to rob his daughter of
her body and her perfect little cherry waiting to be popped.


It

s okay,

Brody said. He put a hand to Ana

s.

Just my guys. All good here, sweetheart. I just
wanted a pack of smokes and to see the place.


It

s not that,

Ana said.

I mean, I don

t like your guys, but they don

t come around a lot.


Then
what is it?

Brody asked.

Ana took her hand away and backed
up. Her fingers started to jump and she played with her hands. She looked down,
her blonde hair falling in front of her face. She was innocent and scared.
Brody looked around the store, wondering what the fuck was up.


Ana

if I

m in danger, or my guys are in danger

and you don

t tell me
…”

Ana put her hands to her ears. She
shook her head.

The sight made Brody freeze. He did
that same goddamn thing, too. Not recently, no, but most of his childhood was
spent like that. Either shoving stolen corn chips in his fucking mouth or
covering his ears to block the sounds of hell all around him.

Brody opened his mouth to yell at
Ana, but he heard a noise to his left. His head snapped and he eyed the back
room. There used to be a door there, but now the door was missing and a black
cloth hung in the doorway.

Brody took one step and Ana yelled
his name. He ignored her and she jumped up and over the counter. She knocked
over a display of penny candies that littered the floor with the sound of glass
pebbles. She grabbed at Brody and he pulled her close. There were tears in her
eyes.


Holy
shit,

Brody whispered.

What is it?


Don

t let them touch me again. I

m sorry, Brody. This isn

t your
…”

Ggggaaahhh

Brody heard the noise before. That
was the sound of someone bleeding and trying to take a breath.

Old man Ronnie.


He

s dying,

Ana said.

Fuck

all I wanted was a pack
of smokes and to look at Ana

s
tits.

two.

 

Carrying two cups of coffee,
Heather kept her eyes straight as her heart raced. She had been doing this for
so long now she shouldn

t
have been nervous. But she was. She always was. This was her life, her dream,
fuck, it was her career. From the time she was a little girl, she had wanted to
be a doctor or nurse. At first, it was easy to be a doctor. She would sneak
scissors, a needle, and thread from her mother

s
sewing kit and get to work. She would cut open her stuffed animals and operate
and sew them back up. Then came the tender age of ten when she was able to see
a book where pictures of surgeries were shown. It then seemed impossible to try
and deal with all that blood. It made Heather sweat (much like when she had to
carry her two cups of coffee) and she decided to skip the doctor thing.

From that point forward it was all
about nursing. And she carried that dream through school, into college, and
then she landed her dream job. She was a full-time nurse, running around like
crazy in a busy hospital.

And she was carrying two cups of
coffee.

She walked by a break station and
two other nurses were standing there. Debbie and Marie. They were facing each
other, each wearing glasses, Debbie pouring enough sugar into her coffee it
would become a syrup. Marie drank her coffee black and never chewed gum or
popped a mint afterward, leaving her with some wild, dark breath.

They didn

t notice Heather and that was good.

Heather knew the plan because she

d done it long enough that she
swore her footprints were in the tiles. That

s
how she feared she would get caught. They would just follow the path she
created and bust her. That, of course, was insane. There were no footprints.
And if there were, so much traffic came through these halls, it would be
impossible to follow one set. Plus, there was a janitorial crew that cleaned
the floors each night.

The real worry was the cameras.
They were everywhere in the fucking hospital. Sometimes Heather wanted to
believe the cameras weren't real. They were there for show, to make the
hospital look big, bad, and safe. But Heather had seen the security room
before. When all this first started she had taken friendship with Larry, one of
the security guards who was no longer with the hospital. He took her into the
room and it was a wall of screens. Watching, monitoring, making sure the
patients and the staff were protected.

That made this little trip with the
coffee even more risky and dangerous.

At the end of the hall, Heather
made a left turn. There was a small hallway that split into two wings of the
hospital. A set of elevator doors was there, along with old leather benches on
each side of the doors.

Just as she was told, a man named
Peter sat there. He wore a suit and tie, his hands folded, biting on his thumb.
He looked sad and worried, and that was all part of the act.

Heather swallowed and cleared her
throat.

Mr. Peter?

He looked at Heather and hurried to
stand. He looked behind him and then forward. As he approached, he asked,

How is she?


I
can

t discuss information,

Heather said.

I

m
sorry. I brought you a coffee, like you asked for.

The cups were shaking in Heather

s hands. One cup was really
coffee. It was warm, leaving her palm sweating. The other cup was not warm, at
all. But it still left her feeling sweaty and guilty.

Peter came to Heather and looked at
the coffees.

Which one?

Heather put out her left hand and
Peter took it.

If you need
anything

the doctor
…”


I
can get in touch with him,

Peter said. His sad face offered a sly grin.

The doctor

that

s what Lyle wanted to be called
in all this. Not just because it fit perfectly in the whole hospital thing. But
because he liked the feeling of power. He thought he was a doctor, a savior for
life. A saver of life. Something like a God to those who needed his services.

And yet, Heather was still the
nurse. She was taking orders from someone else.


Thank
you,

Peter said. He put a
hand out and touched Heather

s
shoulder.

Thank you for
your kindness and patience.

The words made Heather feel sick.
She blinked fast and forced herself to nod and to smile.

Of course, Mr. Peter. Just doing
my job.

Peter turned and started to walk.
He made it all of three steps and stopped. He turned slightly and took the top
off the coffee cup. This made Heather gasp.

What the hell is
he
checking
for? It

s all
in there


Motherfucker,

Peter growled. He looked at
Heather and showed her the cup.

Is
this a fucking joke?

There was coffee in his cup.

Heather gasped again. She

d given him the wrong cup.


Oh,
no, Mr. Peter,

Heather
said.

It

s right here.

Peter threw the coffee on the
floor. The brown liquid hit the white tile and spread all over. It made Heather
wonder if that

s what blood
looked like on the floor. Probably not. Blood was thicker. It wouldn

t run so freely.

She was scared to death now as
Peter approached.

He clamped a hand on her wrist and
showed his teeth.

Open the
fucking lid.

Heather took the lid off the coffee
cup and sure enough, in that cup, there was the drugs. The little packets of
what Lyle called
revenue
and
life
.


I

m sorry,

Heather whispered.

I
gave you the wrong
…”

Peter

s
other hand flew out and had Heather by the throat. He turned and pushed her
against the wall. His body was then against hers.


I
don

t allow fucking messes,

Peter growled.

This isn

t a game, you fucking bitch.


I
know,

Heather said.

I

m
sorry. It

s been a long
day.


I
don

t care. I almost left
with a cup of fucking coffee. Shitty hospital coffee.


It

s fixed,

Heather said.

You
have the right cup now.

Peter took a deep breath.

Sometimes I wonder what Lyle
sees in you. But I get it. You grovel so easily. You

d go right to your knees if I let you go. I bet I
could take out my fat cock and you

d
suck it. Because I

d tell
you to and you

d fucking
listen to me. Because that

s
what you do. That

s why
Lyle loves you. He gets to smack you around and then turn you around and fuck
you. Those tits. That ass. Your stupid voice. It

s
so tempting. If I hadn

t
wasted all my time waiting for you, I

d
turn you around right now.

Heather could just listen. That

s what she had trained herself
to do. To just listen. If she believed any of it, it made everything worse.
Right now, Peter wouldn

t
hurt her. He wouldn

t try
and touch her. He had a lot of money worth of drugs to take care of.

When Peter let Heather go, she
remained in the same position. That was something else she learned.
Don

t fall. Don

t fight back. Don

t look. Don

t do a fucking thing.

Peter took the cup from Heather

s hand. He put the lid back on
it and lifted it to his lips. He blew into it and threw it back as though there
were coffee in the cup. He smiled and walked away. As he moved around the
puddle of coffee on the floor, he turned his head.


Excuse
me, nurse?


Yes
…”


You
might want to get someone to clean up this mess. Dangerous here. Someone could
slip, fall, and break their neck. You wouldn't want that, would you?


Of
course not,

Heather said.

I

ll
get it taken care of right away.

Peter lifted his coffee cup and
smiled.

Thank you.

He went to the elevators, and once he
was gone, Heather managed to breathe and run away from the scene. She knew
running down the hall would attract attention, but then out of nowhere, a group
of nurses appeared, also running.


Come
on, Heather!

someone
yelled.


What

s wrong?

Heather asked.


Those
freaking biker gangs,

Debbie said. Her glasses bounced on her face.

There
was some kind of explosion over there and one of the guys got damn near blown
to pieces
…”

Another wonderful day.

BOOK: Wild Blaze
10.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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