Motorhead (Book 1): Kings of Chaos MC, #1

By Evelyn Glass

This is book 1 of the Kings of Chaos MC romance series! Books 2 and 3 are available everywhere now!

I'd pay good money to take her however I want.

It was a second chance I never deserved.

Mostly because Cara didn't give me much of a first chance to begin with.

She was a good girl with a future.

I was a bad boy going nowhere fast.

And she wanted nothing to do with me.

But years later, fate brings me to her operating table with a bullet in my body and my life in her hands.

She saves me, but that's just the beginning of this chaos.

When my enemies catch wind that I'm still kicking, they come to the hospital to finish the job.

Cara stands up to protect me.

She didn't expect them to take her instead.

I'm barely alive, but that won't stop me from going after those bastards.

Cara saved my life twice.

It's time for me to repay the favor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386666585

Book preview

Chapter One

Damian

Iput the kickstand down on my bike and climbed off. There was a bright slice of moon hanging high in a clear sky, casting the world around me in a silvery light. Taking my helmet off, I ran a hand through hair that fell to my shoulders and enjoyed the quiet of the night for a moment. There was a taste of the nearby ocean in the air, and everything was peaceful.

And then I remembered why I was there to begin with.

You ready, bro?

I turned and looked at my buddy, Crank, whose real name was Arthur Banks – but we'd taken to calling him Crank for reasons that were lost somewhere in the haze of time and memory. We all just accepted Crank as his name and never really thought twice about it.

Crank had been my friend since high school. We'd served a few tours in the shit together back when we were Marines, and now he was my right-hand man. There wasn't anybody on the planet I trusted more than Crank. I knew that no matter what, he always had my back.

I hung my helmet from the handlebar of my bike and nodded. Yup. Let's do it.

We walked to the back door of the diner and pulled it open. The smell of hamburgers, fries, and everything else they were cooking came flooding out – and smelled delicious. My stomach growled, reminding me that it was well past dinner time. I followed Crank into the kitchen, where some of the cooks looked at us. I saw the fear in their eyes the moment they saw us, most of them turning away quickly, becoming totally engrossed in whatever task they were doing.

Such was the way when you wore a Kings of Chaos kutte.

Our MC was both feared and respected. We had a colorful reputation – we stayed mostly out of trouble, but we also didn't take shit from anybody. If push came to shove, we weren't afraid to throw down and put a beating on somebody. Most people thought we were responsible for a multitude of disappearances and murders. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if somebody out there wanted to pin the JFK assassination on us. And we were happy to let people think whatever they wanted. It only enhanced our rep.

But truth be told, the only blood spilled by the Kings had come in self-defense. We'd had more than a few scrapes, but as far as cold-blooded killing? Never happened. And the bottom of the barrel truth was that I only knew of two bodies that could actually be pinned on the MC – and both of those were because it was a case of them or us. We'd never taken a life just to take a life, no matter what anybody else thought.

Still, I couldn't sit there and say that our hands were clean. We dabbled in drug running – pot and ecstasy mainly – and we took a slice of local business profits as a service fee for keeping the streets of Fernwood safe, clean, and free of trouble.

I grabbed a handful of fries off of a plate as we headed for the office. Crank opened the door without knocking and stepped inside. Stan, the owner of the diner, was leaning back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head, a look of pure rapture on his face. When we walked in, he looked startled enough that he might have pissed himself if it hadn't been for the brunette on her knees in front of him. She looked up with an expression of pure relief and tears shining in her eyes.

Stan stumbled as he got to his feet while trying to pull his pants up at the same time. The girl, her lipstick smeared and hair mussed, stood frozen in place. She was one of the waitresses; that much I knew. I thought I'd seen her in here before. And she looked all of about seventeen or so.

Don't you assholes ever knock? Stan almost shouted.

How old are you, sweetheart? I asked the girl softly.

Sabrina, get your ass back out on the floor! Stan yelled. Now!

I shot Stan a look that stopped him in his tracks. Crank stepped up, putting himself between Stan and me, his face colored with anger – as I was sure mine was. As the girl moved to hurry past me, I put my hand on her shoulder and forced her to look me in the eye.

How old? I pressed.

Nineteen, she said, lowering her eyes as if she were ashamed.

Nineteen? I asked, arching an eyebrow.

She never took her eyes off the floor. I can show you my ID if you want, she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. I'm nineteen. I swear it.

She's an adult, Stan said as if it made everything okay. Now, can you two get the fuck out of here?

Why are you doing this? I asked the girl, ignoring Stan completely.

I–I need this job, she said, still avoiding my eyes. There's not much opportunity here. You know that. It ain't like I can run away to go to college or something. And Mr. Greeley here said if I didn't blow him whenever he wanted, that he'd fire me.

The girl looked up at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. The rage that existed inside of me – dark and abiding – welled up and threatened to overwhelm me. I was a lot of things. Some might call me a monster – and maybe I was – but if there was one thing I could not, and would never condone, it was violence done to women and children. Nothing enraged me more quickly or deeply.

Please, she said, her eyes pleading. Don't do nothin' that's gonna get me fired. I can't afford to lose this job.

Don't worry, I said. I won't. When I'm done here, you're not going to have to worry about a goddamn thing.

I released her, and she scurried out of the office. Stan looked at me, his eyes wide behind his thick glasses. Sweat dotted his brow, and he looked terrified. Which was good. That's exactly how I wanted him to feel. I narrowed my eyes and gave him my hardest look.

You're an even bigger scumbag than I took you for, I growled.

Maybe we should just burn this dump to the ground, Crank added. Put two in his head for good measure.

Crank stroked the butt of the pistol that was sticking out of his waistband. He carried it more for show than anything. I honestly didn't think he'd shot at anything with it other than bottles and cans.

"L-l-look, you