Broken (Soldiers of Darkness MC Book 1) Read online

  I place my hands on her knees and keep her legs wide apart as I continue to thrust into her, my eyes focused on her tits as her body rocks back into the mattress. Her howls of pain and pleasure wash over me, a turn-on I crave, and as I come once more, spilling out inside of her, she lets out a particularly high-pitched cry. This girl’s a screamer, but I like that. What guy doesn’t like a girl who shows her appreciation?

  ‘OK, darlin’. I think we’re done here.’ I pull out, completely satisfied now. ‘Time to get that pretty ass of yours outta here.’

  She knows the score, which means she must’ve been here before. I’m not sure she’s one of the regular club whores that hang around the compound, but she’s obviously savvy enough to know how it works around here, especially if you’re lucky enough to be fucked by the President. But I only ever fuck ‘em once. I ain’t ever fucked a woman twice, and I ain’t about to start any time soon.

  I barely acknowledge her as I walk over to the mirror, smiling at my own reflection. I don’t look all that bad, considering I spent most of last night consuming vast quantities of bourbon and beer. At least, I’m assuming that’s what I did, seeing as my memories on that score are still pretty vague. But my head’s in the right place now. That quick fuck has seen to that. I’m ready for another day at the Soldiers of Darkness MC, a place that’s been my haven forever.

  This club made me.

  This club saved me.

  I’m about to enter my tenth year here as President, and I’m determined it’s gonna be the best year yet. Because I owe this MC everything. Without them, I’m not sure where the fuck I’d be…

  Chapter Two

  Izzi

  I have nothing but this holdall. Everything I need is in here, because I don’t need all that much. A few changes of clothes, make-up, the cream I’ve been told I still need to apply to the newest of my tattoos.

  I only used to have one, a very small one, on the underside of my left wrist, and that’s been covered over now with roses and thorns. It was a name. His name. Oh, I know people tell you you should never have anyone’s name permanently etched into your skin because you never know what might happen in the future. But he was different. We were going to be together forever, no questions, no arguments. Until he was cruelly taken from me, along with my beloved father, by some mindless, gun-wielding bastards.

  That night, just over a year ago, when we’d gotten caught up in someone else’s stupid, pointless war is a memory I can’t rid myself of. It’s there, every day and every night, playing over and over in my head on a constant loop. The memory of Aiden crashing to the floor, killed instantly by a single bullet to the head; my father crouching down to see to him only to be mercilessly gunned down himself. Those images are still so vivid, yet, I can’t remember getting out of the bar. I don’t know if I just walked out, or if someone got me out, I can’t remember, no matter how hard I try. I just remember finding myself out in the parking lot as all around me people screamed and shouted and the roar of motorbikes filled the air.

  The love of my life, and my father. Dead. Just like that. And nobody was brought to justice for taking away the two people I loved more than anything in the world. Not one person. Everyone who’d been in that bar that night just closed ranks, shut down; said nothing. And nobody was brought to justice.

  I went back home, to the UK, and I laid my boys to rest. But I couldn’t move on. I tried, but everything was too different. I was too damaged. I became bitter and angry at the world for taking Aiden and my father away; for letting those who’d killed them in ice-cold blood get away with it. They were still out there, living and breathing while my fiancé and my father were lying dead in their graves. How was that fair?

  The bitterness grew, the memories refused to fade, and all of a sudden even trying to move on became impossible. I was never going to settle until I found the closure I needed.

  I was a different girl now, to the one I’d once been. Aiden wouldn’t even recognize me. Losing him has made me this way. That night turned me into this hard and bitter woman with a fierce determination to seek my own personal retribution on the people who’d robbed me of my future. That’s why I’ve come here; back to where it all happened. Because I need that closure. And I’m prepared, for whatever it is I have to do. Whatever I have to face, I’m prepared. For anything.

  Pushing open the door of my small rented house on the edge of town, I throw my holdall onto the floor and look around. This is my home now, for as long as it takes to finish the job I’ve come here to do – to find the bastards who’d killed Aiden and my father.

  I go back outside, out onto the front porch, and I fold my arms against myself as I take in the view. All I can see is fields and trees and the road some way over in the distance. It’s a pretty view, actually; a calming view. The tranquility is nice. But I know I’ll never really be calm, not until all of this is over. Coming here, and doing this, it’s the only way I’m ever going to find any kind of peace.

  Heading back inside I close the doors and hunt around for the AC remote, finding it underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. The blast of cool air is a welcome relief from the stifling heat outside, and I take a minute or two to just stand still and take in the enormity of what I’m here to do. And it still doesn’t scare me. I’m too angry to let anything scare me. And it’s that constant anger that fires me up, keeps me heading in this inevitable direction.

  There’d once been a time – when the grief had gotten way too much to bear, the despair too deep – when I’d contemplated joining Aiden and my dad.

  Now I just want to avenge their deaths.

  Somebody needs to pay for what happened.

  Somebody will.

  Whatever it takes.

  Chapter Three

  Mack

  I’m feeling slightly uneasy tonight, and I don’t know why. Or maybe I do. Maybe I’m finally starting to grow a conscience. Or maybe I just need another drink.

  The Soldiers of Darkness have always been one percenters. But despite that, when I was growing up within its confines, I can only remember it being a safe place. Or that’s how it had always felt to me. Everyone looked out for one another, did anything and everything they had to to keep it that safe place. But we were – we are outlaws. And over the years things have slowly gravitated even further towards the darker side of business. And I haven’t exactly helped veer it from that course since I took over as President, because, if I’m honest, I get one hell of a kick out of being king of this fucking town. I’m respected, feared; men want to be me, women want to fuck me, and I ain’t in no hurry to change that, even if I do sometimes experience the odd flicker of doubt. I’ve learned to get rid of it pretty quickly; shut it down.

  The club has businesses – legitimate businesses – all over town. We own a couple of bars – one of which I’m sitting in right now – a gym, and a tattoo studio on the main street. They all bring in a good amount of cash. We do OK. But we still need money to keep us going, I can’t run this thing on fresh air. And we got debts to pay, people to get off our backs. So I don’t see the harm in taking a few risks every now and again. And Viper seemed happy with the way the sit-down went this afternoon so I’m sure we’re in there, and the cash some of those jobs will bring in will be worth the risk. We make far more as outlaws than we ever can as good guys, and sometimes you can’t ignore the math.

  I lean back in my chair and take a slow look around the bar. I’m in Laney’s tonight. We named this place after an ex-President’s old lady, and she was one of the best – Laney Slayer. The woman helped raise me, and that was no easy job. She was there for me from the day I was dumped outside the Soldiers of Darkness clubhouse like an unwanted sack of rubbish – I’d only been a couple of days old, apparently. She was the one who’d found me, so she was the one who’d got to name me. She gave me my identity. And although raising me became something everyone in the club had a hand in, I was always seen as the “son” of Laney and Cooper Slayer. Hence me taking th
eir surname. And the reason I was given the Presidency after Cooper’s death.

  She hailed from a small town in Kentucky, did Laney, and it was from her that I picked up the accent. Back then, when I was growing up, I had no idea it would eventually cause women to drop their panties the second I opened my mouth, but once I realized that, I wasn’t ever gonna speak any other way. I’m keeping Laney’s legacy alive. She’d be proud of me, God rest her fucked-up soul. She and Cooper, they were the closest thing I’ve ever had to a momma and daddy. I have no idea who or where my “real” parents are, and I don’t give a crap. They mean shit to me. This club is the only family I’ve ever known, and it’s the only family I’ll ever need.

  ‘Hey… She’s new. I ain’t seen her around here before.’

  I look over at Odi as he leans forward in his seat, and I follow his gaze, which is fixed on a girl with long dark hair who’s just walked in. Alone. Normally the only kinda girls who walk into our bars alone are those who want to work for us, or fuck us. Or both, which is usually the case. But this one don’t look like that kinda girl, and I know what that kinda girl looks like, believe me.

  I lean forward myself, narrowing my eyes as I look more closely at this stranger. One of her arms is sporting what looks like a pretty impressive half-sleeve, and although I’m too far away to see the tattoo in any detail, it’s certainly eye-catching. But she don’t look like she owns it, if you know what I mean. I get the feeling it’s not been there all that long. I like to think I can read people quite well, and I’m getting a vibe from her that’s telling me she don’t belong here.

  Odi makes to stand up but I push him back down, because I know what he’s about to do. And the last thing that girl needs is my VP laying his trash-talk crap on her.

  ‘Where you going, huh?’ It’s an obviously rhetorical question, but I’m asking it anyway.

  ‘Where d’you think?’ His face breaks into a slow grin and I chuckle quietly. He’s a cocky prick, and I like him, don’t get me wrong. But he ain’t going anywhere near her.

  ‘She don’t need you going over there all full-on biker bastard. She ain’t ready for that.’

  ‘How the fuck do you know? Jesus… this morning you kick me out of bed so you can fuck my date…’

  ‘She weren’t your date, Odi. She was some two-dollar whore who wanted to play with the big boys for a night. You even get her name?’

  ‘Did you?’

  I give another chuckle. I’m winning here. I always win. ‘Go find another mama to play with, bro.’ I look back over at the bar. Our mystery lady’s slugging back a beer and scanning the room. Maybe she’s looking for someone. If she is, then she needs to talk to me. There ain’t no one in this town I don’t know. ‘I’m gonna go see what our pretty stranger wants.’

  I head over to her, signaling to Cage behind the bar to pour me a bourbon.

  ‘Hey there, darlin’.’

  She looks up at me, and her eyes, Jesus, they’re cold! I’d describe them as verging on dead. This girl is damaged, I can already tell that. ‘Do you want something?’ Whoa! It’s not just her eyes that are cold. Her attitude is positively freezing! And that always makes my cock hard. I love a freakin’ challenge. Tough, and beautiful – just the way I like ‘em.

  ‘I ain’t seen you in here before.’

  ‘That’s because I haven’t been in here before.’

  She ain’t a local either. Her accent’s British, and that just makes me even more intrigued to find out what she’s doing here. I slide up onto the stool next to her and take a sip of bourbon, my eyes never leaving hers. This one ain’t getting away, not yet.

  ‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

  ‘Well done, Sherlock. Nothing wrong with your hearing.’

  I let out a low whistle and shake my head. This is one hard bitch. But, like I said, I ain’t one to shirk a challenge. But she obviously has no idea who I am, or she wouldn’t be talking to me that way. Nobody talks to me that way, least of all a woman. ‘You got some chip on your shoulder there, darlin’.’

  She breaks the stare and takes another swig of beer, and I watch as her pale lips close in around the neck of the bottle. I imagine them doing the same to my cock. I’ve never fucked an English girl, but I’m gonna. I’m gonna fuck the attitude right out of this one, so hard she ain’t gonna know what day it is.

  ‘This is a biker bar, right?’

  Her question takes me by surprise, because I genuinely thought she had no idea what kinda place she was in. So my interest is really piqued now. ‘You asking me or telling me, sweetheart?’

  Her eyes lock with mine again, and I know for sure I want her now.

  ‘You gonna answer my question?’

  A girl with balls. She has no idea how much she’s turning me on right now. ‘My club owns this place.’ She holds my stare, and takes another swig of beer. I do the same, knocking back the last of my bourbon. ‘You gonna tell me what you’re doing here?’

  Her mouth inches up at one side, and she smiles an almost warm smile. That ice in her eyes is actually beginning to melt. ‘I have to have a reason to come in here, do I? I can’t just come in for a drink?’

  ‘You can come in for whatever you like, darlin’. But you tell me you only came in here for a beer, and I just ain’t buying it.’

  She turns to face me full-on, and the smile’s gone now; her eyes are freezing back over. ‘You own this place?’

  ‘I own most of this town.’ Which is kinda true. The club “owns” most of it, anyway.

  ‘OK…’ She turns back around, so I’m looking at her side-on. She has, in my eyes, an almost perfect profile – defined cheekbones, a small, straight nose and a mouth I am aching to feel close around my cock. I want this girl, so if she’s just passing through…

  ‘OK? Is that it?’

  She drains the last of her beer and slides down from her stool. She’s wearing skin-tight jeans and a black T-shirt, and her long, dark hair falls down her back in what I’m hoping are natural curls. I imagine my fingers buried in those curls as she sucks me dry, and I know I can’t let her walk away. She’s come into my bar, and she ain’t told me why, but she’s here for a reason. I’m certain of that. There are plenty of places around here more suitable for a woman on her own to stop and have a drink, and this ain’t one of ‘em. So she’s here for a reason.

  ‘That’s it.’ She throws me a wide-eyed look and I wonder how old she is. I’m guessing mid-twenties, which makes her old enough for all the twisted shit I’ve got planned for her.

  ‘You ain’t even gonna tell me your name?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Jesus! Talk about playing hard to get! Under normal circumstances I’d have walked away by now. I don’t play games. Not mind ones, anyway. But she’s different. I really can’t let her walk away. It feels – shit! It feels wrong!

  ‘See you around.’ She smiles, and I can’t ignore my throbbing cock any longer as I watch her walk away, her beautiful ass retreating outta my bar. An ass I want to hold onto as I thrust into her… Jesus Christ!

  I head off in the direction of the men’s room, as casually as I can, considering I’ve got a hard-on from hell that refuses to go away, and I lock myself in a stall and release my aching cock, grasping it between my hands and rubbing it until I come in a torrent all over the floor.

  Leaning back against the wall, my now-satisfied cock still in my hand, I close my eyes and release the longest, deepest breath.

  I’m Mack Slayer.

  President of the Soldiers of Darkness MC.

  And for the first time in my fucked-up life I think I might just have let a woman get to me.

  Izzi

  As soon as I’m outside I stop and fall back against the wall, because I need to catch my breath. I felt as though I was suffocating in there. Pulling this off is a whole lot harder than I’d thought it would be, but I’m getting there.

  He thinks I don’t know who he is, but I do. I’ve done my homework. He’s Mack Slayer, a
nd he’s a pretty important guy around here, so I’ve heard. He runs the Soldiers of Darkness MC – he’s their President; a man with a reputation. Thinks he’s God’s gift and treats women like shit, but I don’t care about any of that. All I need from him is his help. I know Aiden and my father were gunned down by a motorcycle gang, but that’s all I know. I don’t know who they were, and nobody around here is talking. So I’m hoping that, by going straight to Mack, straight to a man who knows everything and everyone in this town, apparently; I’m hoping he can help me find some answers. But I can’t help feeling that I may have been slightly naïve. I’d had every intention of asking for his help tonight, but the second he approached me I knew I couldn’t do it, not yet. All that bravado I’d displayed in there, all that attitude, it was so hard to keep it up. Because, underneath it all, I’m scared.

  Over the months I’ve been finding out all I can about MC culture; I’ve been finding out all I can about Mack and the Soldiers of Darkness, but, to be honest, information hasn’t exactly been easy to find. Both him and his club are a bit of a closed book, but I get that. I can understand why that is. But I know enough to give me some kind of an idea as to what I’m dealing with; enough for me to know what I had to become to do what I need to do. Because of everything that’s happened I’m now a harder, stronger person than I ever thought I could be. I was never weak, don’t get me wrong. My world was a tough one – happy, and exciting, but tough. My dad, he brought me up to look after myself. But I’m still scared. I don’t know if I have the courage to walk into this new and strange world, but I have to. I have to do this. I can’t leave here without carrying out the revenge I need to take. I’m doing this for Aiden. I’m doing it for my dad. I’m doing it for me, because I know I can’t carry on the way I have been doing. I’m not living, I’m just existing.