Wreck & Ruin Read online

  Wreck & Ruin

  Blue Angels Motorcycle Club

  Emma Slate

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  ©2019 by Emma Slate. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Contents

  Newsletter Signup

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Sins of a King (Book 1)

  Sins of King Teaser

  Additional Works

  About the Author

  Newsletter Signup

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  Chapter 1

  “Can I get your number?” the frat guy wearing a blue and white checkered shirt asked.

  “Sorry,” I said, shooting him an insincere smile. “I don’t give out my number to customers.”

  The red-cheeked kid leaned over the bar and said, “I drive a BMW.”

  “I’m really more of an Audi girl.”

  He blinked at my response and then smiled. “You’re funny. I like funny.”

  Shelly snorted from somewhere behind me.

  “I can get you into the best clubs in Dallas,” he said, trying again.

  “But we’re in Waco,” I reminded him. “I don’t care about Dallas.”

  He reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty and slid it across the bar to me, his eyebrows raised.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I sputtered. “Did you just—do you think I’ll…”

  Two men stalked into the bar, immediately drawing my attention. They were older than the usual crowd of college frat guys and douchey accountants in khakis. Mid-thirties if I had to guess.

  One was blond and tall. He was lean, but I could tell he was in good shape.

  The other…

  The other was taller than his friend, muscular, swarthy, and trouble.

  Both were tatted to high-heaven and I had to stop myself from swooning at the sight. I was a sucker for body art.

  An idea popped into my head. “Excuse me a second,” I said to the guy who’d just tried to pay me fifty bucks to sleep with him. “My boyfriend just got here.”

  I ducked under the bar at the service station and walked across the battered wooden floor, which was in desperate need of a refinish. With nerves jangling in my body, I sauntered up to the dark-haired man. As I approached him I realized he was taller than I originally thought. His jaw was covered with dark stubble and his brown eyes looked down at me.

  “Hi,” I said, wetting my lips in nervousness. When he didn’t say anything, I took a step closer. “I need you to do me a favor. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so that prick at the bar leaves me alone. I’ll let you drink for free tonight. You and your friend.” I finally managed to glance away from the man who had yet to appear as though he’d heard anything I’d said. But the moment I took my eyes off him he decided to move.

  His hands settled on my hips and pulled me toward him. His head dipped and his lips covered mine, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth. I vaguely heard his friend let out a low chuckle, but I was too consumed by the man who was kissing me. One of his hands left my waist to travel up my body and caress the back of my head. He angled his mouth as he gave me the most carnal kiss I’d ever experienced.

  Excitement shivered up and down my spine as my nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of my black tank top.

  Abruptly, he lifted his mouth from mine and stared down at me. His brown eyes were no longer blank. They seemed to be glowing, banked embers just waiting to be stoked into a fire.

  The side of his mouth curled up, but it was in no way a smile. He looked away from me to stare at a spot over my shoulder.

  “He’s gone.”

  His voice was like velvet on naked skin.

  He dropped his hands from my body, leaving me aching and wanting more.

  I felt exposed and confused; I was supposed to be in control of the situation, but the fact that I wanted his lips on mine again told me I controlled nothing.

  “We’ll take two drafts,” came his friend’s voice. “Will you bring them to the booth in the corner, darlin’?”

  I blinked, my eyelids feeling droopy and tired as though I had been drugged. I looked at him and nodded slightly before turning and walking back to the bar without saying a word.

  As I ducked under the service bar, I caught Shelly’s expression. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyebrows raised. “What the fuck did you just do?”

  I grabbed a pint glass and began to fill it. “I think you saw.”

  “Everyone saw!” She took a step closer. “Do you know who you just kissed?”

  “Yeah, I kissed a guy who scared off some punk kid who wanted to pay me for a night in bed.”

  Shelly shook her head, her honey blond ponytail sweeping her shoulder. “No, you just kissed a Blue Angel.”

  I set the pint aside as beer frothed over the lip of the glass and reached for another. “So?”

  “So?” she nearly squeaked. “You don’t just go up and kiss some random biker.”

  “First of all, I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me. Second of all, I told him he and his friend could drink for free tonight if he pretended to be my boyfriend. What’s the big deal?”

  “You have no idea what you just got yourself into, do you? I grew up in a trailer park, Mia. I’m familiar with biker clubs. They were around all the time. And the last thing you want is to be on their radar.”

  “I’m not on their radar,” I said in exasperation. “He did me a solid. It’s no big deal.” I didn’t want to hear any more of my best friend’s lecture, so I took the freshly poured pints and delivered them to the two bikers who were sitting in the corner booth.

  They stopped talking the moment I approached. The blond smiled up at me and said, “Thanks.”

  “No sweat,” I said. I set the pints down and began to turn with the intention of leaving.

  “I’m Zip. Your boyfriend’s name is Colt.” His blue eyes twinkled with humor and I felt my cheeks heat.

  “Ah, yeah, thanks for that,” I said, shuffling from foot-to-foot, feeling awkward.

  “And who are you?” Zip prodded, a smile blooming across his face.

  “Mia,” I said. “My name is Mia.”

  Colt said nothing, but continued to look at me with an indiscernible gaze.

  “Enjoy your drinks.”

  I hastily made my way back to the bar. Shelly opened her mouth to say something, but I held up my hand. “Don’t.”

  Thankfully, a group of people entered and for the next few hours we were too busy for chitchat and the inevitable lecture that I knew was coming.

  When the rush died a few hours later, I looked at the booth where the bikers had been sitting, but they were gone.

  “I’m taking the trash out,” I s
aid.

  “You sure? I can do it,” Shelly offered. “You did it last time.”

  “I don’t mind,” I told her. I lifted the hefty bag full of empty beer and liquor bottles and maneuvered my way off the floor toward the back alley of Dive Bar.

  I pushed my shoulder against the door to open it and immediately heard the unmistakable sound of knuckles striking flesh.

  I dropped the bag of refuse when I saw a leather-clad biker fighting a khaki-wearing, ripped meathead. The two men were about the same size, and for a moment I couldn’t tell who was winning the brawl.

  My heartbeat accelerated at the scent of blood in the air and I gasped at the violence, frozen in place.

  The two men fought like lions, bloodying each other as though they were battling to the death for territory, neither of them willing to back down. Grunts and guttural sounds filled the air and blood streamed from their faces when finally the biker knocked the muscled man off balance and kicked his legs out from under him. The meathead fell to the ground. When he tried to rise, the biker grabbed his hair with one hand and pulled his head back. Looking straight into his eyes, the tatted biker sank his fist into his opponent’s face with all his might, ending the altercation.

  A shaft of moonlight peeked out from the clouds to reveal the bloodied face of the man who’d kissed me just a few hours ago.

  Colt’s eyes blazed with intensity as he stared at me.

  “Go back inside,” he commanded. His voice was angry, rough.

  A shiver of fear danced down my spine.

  Fear, and something else.

  I turned to leave.

  “Wait,” he called.

  I glanced over my shoulder and Colt’s eyes held mine for a moment before he stared down at the guy on the ground in front of him. The prep was unconscious, breathing heavily after being knocked out cold. His head lobbed to the side and a trickle of blood and drool began to form a puddle next to his face. I wondered if I should call an ambulance and tried to look more closely at him in the light.

  Yeah, definitely calling an ambulance.

  I thought Colt would leave, but instead he began to stalk toward me, causing my heart to beat in terror. I scrambled back, tripping over the garbage bag behind me.

  I was about to fall, but Colt was suddenly there, and his hands reached out to steady me. Hands that were surprisingly gentle as they held me, when moments ago, they’d been used to inflict violence.

  It was too late to escape, so I forced myself to have a tiny shred of courage. I tilted my head back so I could gaze up at him. “What happened?” I whispered.

  His expression was dark.

  Murderous.

  But for some reason—some stupid, asinine, hormonal reason—I didn’t truly believe that Colt would hurt me.

  “Are you gonna call the cops?” he asked. His voice was heady, potent, unlike anything I’d ever heard before.

  “That depends.” I wet my dry lips, briefly realizing his gaze tracked the movement of my tongue.

  He paused again, clearly weighing whether or not to let me in, wondering if it would cause more trouble than it was worth to explain it to me.

  “He drugged a woman.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “He might be clean cut and built, but he’s a rapist. He drugged a woman in your bar,” he repeated. “He bought her a cocktail and she accepted. She got up to use the bathroom and that’s when he laced her drink. That shit doesn’t fly with me or my club. You don’t hurt innocent people and get away with it.”

  “Oh my God,” I said in horror.

  “Zip noticed what was going on and we watched it unfold in plain sight. He stopped the woman from drinking whatever this fuck put in her glass and sent her home with her friends.” His gaze wandered to the guy still passed out on the pavement. “Dickhead didn’t like being accused of what he’d done and made the same mistake they all do.”

  “What mistake is that?”

  “Choosing a fight with me out back over the cops.”

  I swallowed, but couldn’t find the words I wanted to say. It didn’t matter because Colt wasn’t done speaking.

  “He’s damn lucky you showed up out here…”

  “Were you going to—” I blurted out the words and then cut myself off before I said something that might put me in danger.

  What was this man capable of?

  Colt’s lips pulled back into a smile, but it wasn’t beautiful. It was demonic and vengeful. And the shaft of moonlight bathed half his face in shadow.

  “He’ll live,” Colt assured me.

  I felt him loosen his hold on me and relax. I was suddenly bereft and cold. I couldn’t understand why I wanted a savage vigilante to touch me again.

  But I did.

  “Better get back inside,” he said softly. He gestured with his chin to the passed out meathead. “He’s got friends in the bar. Let them know you found him and they’ll take him home. I’m pretty sure they aren’t gonna call the cops.”

  With that pronouncement, Colt turned. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the logo on the back of his leather vest, a skull flanked by open angel wings.

  He strode from the alley, becoming one with the darkness.

  I crossed my hands over my arms, my fingers stroking the spot where he’d touched my skin.

  After a few moments my daze cleared, and I got the bag of trash into one of the nearly full dumpsters.

  I took one last look at the creep on the ground and then turned and went into the bar.

  The next morning, my doorbell chimed. I shot up in bed, terrified, my heart in my throat. I’d been completely asleep, dead to the world, and the noise had sounded like it was playing on speakers directly in my bedroom. Cursing and sleepy-eyed, I got up, tripping on the comforter that hung off the side of the bed. I found a pair of pajama shorts before heading into the living room to the front door.

  “You’re a terrible person, do you know that?” I glowered at Shelly as she stood on the steps holding two coffees and a paper bag from our favorite bakery. We used to do our homework together at Madeline’s. We’d sit in the back, sharing a chocolate croissant and a latte because that was all Shelly could afford. I always offered to pay, but Shelly never accepted charity.

  “You look like hell,” Shelly said. Her honey blond hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing white denim shorts and a pink sleeveless tank. Her toenails were a subtle shade of coral. The woman didn’t ever look like she worked nights. No bags under the eyes. No pale skin from lack of sleep. Fresh as a spring daisy.

  Always.

  “I didn’t get to sleep until about four,” I admitted, waving her inside.

  She handed me one of the to-go cups. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  Shelly had tried to get me to talk about Colt and the kiss when we’d been closing up the bar. While we washed glasses, put the chairs on the tables, and swept the floor, she needled me relentlessly. I’d only managed to escape her inquisition because I’d volunteered to clean the bathrooms and then taken out the garbage. Not only did I want to escape her determination to find out how good the kiss was, but I also wanted to see if the guy Colt had beat up was still there.

  He wasn’t.

  “You got away last night, but I need details. And I need them now.”

  “Why?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen to grab a plate from the cabinet. I took the pastry bag from Shelly and unloaded the pastries onto a plate. We both sat at the old Formica kitchen table from the 1950s. It was orange and hideous, but it had been my grandmother’s favorite piece of furniture and I didn’t have the heart to replace it. I didn’t have the heart to redecorate her home at all, actually. Surrounded by the decor of my childhood, I kept the memory of my grandmother alive as best I could.

  “Why?” she asked, mouth agape. She tore the croissant but didn’t take a bite yet. “How long have we known each other?”

  “Twelve years,” I said.

  “Right. I’ve been there for boyfriend
s who have become ex boyfriends, I was the first phone call after you lost your virginity, and not once have I ever seen the look on your face that I saw last night—after you kissed a total stranger. A biker, no less. I was trying to tell you about the whole biker thing and you wouldn’t let me.”

  “Let you? We were at work. What was I supposed to do? Ask our customers to stop ordering drinks so you could give me the run down? I got the memo. Don’t get involved.”

  She popped a croissant bite into her mouth and chewed. After she swallowed and washed it down with coffee, she replied, “You shouldn’t have singled them out. You don’t understand them like I do.”

  “You know the Blue Angels?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I told you I know biker culture. My mom…” Shelly trailed off, not wanting to say more about the woman who’d given her life, but not much else. “Anyway, bikers are weird. They’re like, oddly possessive of their women. But they fuck around a lot. Fidelity isn’t big in their world.”

  “Okay? What does any of that have to do with me?”

  “Just, don’t get involved with this guy, okay? You’re a good girl. A nice girl. You deserve more than some rough biker who won’t come home to you every night. They don’t have normal jobs, or live normal lives. They’re not suburbs and white picket fence guys.”

  Normal.

  Yeah, nothing about my interaction with Colt had been normal.

  I forced a smile. “I think it’s really sweet that you’re trying to warn me off, but you’re forgetting something. He just kissed me. I doubt he’s even still thinking about me.”