The Biker: Men in the Shadows, #2

By Rain Carrington

When a young man is sold for drugs on the day of his mother's funeral, he thinks his life is over. It wasn't like it was a great life that Malcolm Sandoval had led so far, not with a drug addicted mother, a father who'd left him before he was three and a stepfather that punched first and asked questions later. 

 

Kirk was another biker, like TJ, Malcolm's stepfather. A Harley riding, drug dealing biker. That's all Malcolm could see…at first. 

 

Soon, however, Kirk's amazing body and more amazing but gruff kindness tore through Malcolm's belief that no one could want him. He felt himself falling for the quiet and deadly man, but like all the roads of Malcolm's life, the bumps steered him into despair.  

 

Kirk goes to prison and Malcolm must face the world without him. Busted for attempting to kill Malcolm's hated stepfather, Kirk faces at least six months and Malcolm takes the members of the bike club to Oregon to avenge the betrayal TJ had committed.  

 

TJ's brother seeks his own revenge and makes Malcolm pay for the theft of his money and the death of his brother. Can Kirk get out in time to save Malcolm or will this be their last ride? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rain Carrington
• Release date: Dec 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393312703

Rain Carrington

I love writing, it's been my dream for many years, and in October of 2013, when my first book went live on Amazon, that dream came true. Writing love stories that are centered on flawed but lovable characters is my passion. Finding love between people isn't easy, nor should it be. Even in a book, there have to be obstacles for the story to feel real. I am a mother of three amazing people, and three adorable fur babies. I live in Colorado but love many other places besides my home. One state in particular is New Mexico, the state where I was born has always held a place in my heart. People and places make my stories what they are. Each character I've written is a part of me in some way. Each place I write is as well. Adventures come in many ways, and each of my stories has taken me on an adventure that I treasure. Come with me on my adventures and fall in love with my characters, as I have. I promise, you will love the ride. www.raincarrington.com https://twitter.com/RainCarrington https://www.facebook.com/rain.carrington https://www.facebook.com/Rain-Carringtons-Bear-Lake-Chronicles-104627634658342 https://www.instagram.com/raincarrington/ https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rain-carrington https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/rain-carrington/ https://mewe.com/i/raincarrington https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7082503.Rain_Carrington https://www.raincarrington.com/newsletter

Book preview

Men in the Shadows

This series has characters that live in the shadows of the men they love, men that live on a very blurred line of right and wrong, where laws and morals are different than others may consider them.

In no way are these shadowed men silent. Their powerful lovers may take the light, but in that shadow lies their love and strength. Maybe they are stronger for the shadows. Having to compete for the light that shone so easily on their bad men.

Bad boys, good lovers, and broken hearts abound, but love comes through to light even the darkest corner.

These are the Men in the Shadows....

Copyright © 2015 Rain Carrington

Cover Copyright © 2015 Rain Carrington

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The purchase of this ebook allows you to only one legal copy for your own personal reading on your own personal device or computer. You do NOT have resell or distribution rights without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner of this book. Do not copy in any way.

Warning: This book contains scenes of sexual situations between two or more consenting men. There are also scenes of BDSM. Please do not attempt any of the activities in this book without knowing how to be safe.

This is dedicated to Patricia Logan, who read this and set me on the path to self-publishing. It was her nudging that started this, and with her help, I’ve come a long way. Thank you Patti!

Also, this book goes to my editor, Heidi Ryan. This amazing woman works so damn hard to help the authors that she loves with pimping, reviewing, editing, proofing, and anything they need. I am humbled by her and her dedication. I also love her to pieces for putting up with my crazy ass. J

Forward

By Rain Carrington

A few years back, I began to write for fan fiction sites, two mainly, and finally started to scratch an itch I’d had for twenty odd years, to put words down and weave them into something that someone, somewhere, may enjoy reading.

There I made some great friends and they encouraged me to continue and strive for more. Then I got up the courage to talk to a famous M/M writer and she read my story, Biker Trash. She liked it, and I was floored. I nearly puked I was so excited just talking to the woman, but when she liked my story, I was over the moon. She encouraged me to self-publish, and though I was scared to DEATH, Honky Tonk was born.

I now have several books out there, but I never forgot my first stories, the ones that started it all. I’ve tried so many times to rewrite them, make them over brand new, and it never seemed to work. They lost something in the rewrites that people who loved them would hate. I know I did. So, instead of rewriting, I moved some words around, fixed some commas and typos and brought them back, much in their original forms.

I’ve come far in my writing, and these may not have the pizazz of my later works, but they have endearing characters that I love every bit as much as the ones in my later stories. I’ve missed them, Dante, Blaine, Malcolm, Kirk, Devin, Sergio; and so here they are, as promised. I hope you enjoy them!

Chapter 1

The first time Malcolm Sandoval saw him was at his mother’s funeral. After the church service was over, what little family and friends that had come were lined up outside the doors to give their sympathy to him and his stepfather. He was one of the dozens clad in denim and leather that passed through with phony words and even phonier expressions of sympathy. Malcolm leaned against the wall, nodding once in a while, letting his hand be shaken and his shoulder or head patted. He hated them all. Before his mom had gotten involved with TJ, his step father, she had been a regular mom, even a great mom, but the minute she met him and the rest of his biker trash friends, she had found her new love. Meth.

As he passed through the receiving line, he shook TJ’s hand as his cold, pale green eyes fell on Malcolm and Malcolm felt his knees go weak. TJ smirked at Malcolm and introduced them, Yeah, brother Kirk, this is the ol’ lady’s kid. Malcolm, shake Kirk’s hand.

TJ called the man brother, but not because he was his biological sibling. They were in the same bike club, as indicated on the patches on their leathers. The Devil’s Rebels.

Malcolm held out his hand and the much bigger man took it, enveloping it completely. Kirk stared into Malcom’s eyes, making him feel even smaller, nodded curtly and said, Sorry for your loss.

The massive man was strikingly handsome, but scary. He was as big as a grizzly bear, and Malcolm squeaked out, Th-thanks.

Malcolm didn’t know why, but he was riveted by the man. He was tall and muscled and looked more like a linebacker than a biker, except for the leather vest that held the insignia of their bike club on the back. Kirk also had his thick arms covered in sleeves of tattoos, though at the time, Malcolm didn’t get a good look at them. Kirk moved along, but their eyes didn’t leave each other until Kirk was out of sight behind a crowd of other bikers.

The chill that had shot down his spine at the sight of him stopped in his groin and was warming considerably until TJ grabbed the shoulder of his sport jacket and pushed him towards the bike. The mortuary had limos for the family, but TJ told them to fuck off. He wasn’t about to ride to Gloria’s funeral in a limo, no, he would take the bike she had ridden on with him for the six years they’d been together. They got to the cemetery, listened to the minister speak again, and Malcolm watched his mother’s casket lowered into the ground with tears in his eyes that refused to fall.

He had yet to cry, hadn’t wanted to shed a single tear in front of his stepfather, because TJ hated when guys cried. TJ hated most things. He was an insufferable prick, and Malcolm thought fleetingly that he was mostly ready to cry because now that his mom was gone, he was stuck with TJ alone in that shack of a house. Everything would be fine as long as he stayed out of TJ’s sight like he had tried to do practically since he had come into their lives. TJ was quick with his fists and he’d never liked Malcolm.

Once back at the house, the bikes started showing up in a thunder of engines that only a group of Harley-Davidsons could make, rattling the very walls like the aftershock of a major earthquake. After changing out of his good clothes, Malcolm rushed around to hand beers out to the guests as they parked and hung around the yard. It wasn’t much of a yard. The lawn had died long ago, and when it was time to mow, Malcolm mowed the weeds as best he could. Soon, the music was blaring and people were laughing and drinking, carrying on like a woman hadn’t just been taken from him, the only family he had left in the world. Malcolm grew bitter that they were using the death of his mother as a reason to party. He was already bitter, because if she had never met them, she’d still be alive. That’s what he thought most of the time, but he knew in his heart he couldn’t blame them completely. No one put a gun to her head to stick the needle in her arm.

As the party wore on, he was growing tired. He knew he could never slink away to his room, because TJ would find him quick and drag him out to keep serving the guests, so he took refuge in his favorite stash spot. In the back yard, there was an old dog house that TJ used to house his mastiffs until he sold them all for a new engine for his bike. It was cleaner than the house because TJ had treated them better than he’d ever treated Malcolm or Gloria. Malcolm had taken an old blanket and pillow for some comfort and his iPod to keep him company.

He’d just pulled his iPod out and was cycling through his favorite songs when he heard voices outside the dog house. Come on, Kirk, we’re brothers! There should be a brotherhood discount or something!

It was TJ and the muscled biker. Malcolm held his breath, praying they didn’t find him.

"I’m already giving you a discount, brother. I should charge you double for being a fuck up! I know you did half of what you were supposed to be selling. Lay off the shit. You would think you’d learned from your ol’ lady dying from it."

Malcolm heard TJ chuckling and he wanted to rush out and kick him in the nuts, but he knew that would only get him a beating.

That bitch was getting it from all over. Probably whoring for it.

Whatever, TJ, my price is fifteen. I won’t go a dime less and I don’t take credit.

TJ got quiet, and Malcolm was hopeful they were about to move away, but his hopes were soon dashed, including his hope that somehow his life would not get worse.

With TJ’s voice lowered, Malcolm had to strain to hear. He said, I can make you a deal.

What deal?

You like the kid, I can tell. It’s no secret you prefer outies to innies. I’ll give you the kid for the speed.

Malcolm heard this and nearly pissed himself. He involuntarily moved and hit his head hard on the low roof, making him see stars for a moment.

What the fuck was that? TJ said, and Malcolm heard his stepfather walking towards his hiding place. There was nowhere to hide, and soon TJ’s face loomed in the big doorway.

There was fire in TJ’s eyes. What the fuck are you doing in there? You spying on me, you little asshole?

Malcolm started to shake his head, but TJ reached in and easily dragged him out. Malcolm stood between the bigger men and wanted to fall through the dirt and become compost.

Kirk looked at him piercingly, then asked, What’d you hear, kid?

N-nothing!

Kirk shook his head as he moved Malcolm’s long bangs out of his eyes. Kirk looked him over, and Malcolm wished he had drug the blanket out with him. Suddenly, he wanted to cover himself because his jeans and denim jacket didn’t seem like enough. Like Kirk was looking right through them.

With a little smirk playing on his lips, Kirk told him, Yeah, sure you didn’t.

Malcolm turned to TJ and glared at him before he spat, I heard you trying to sell me for drugs! That’s what I heard!

He knew it was coming but expecting it didn’t make the fist connecting with his face hurt any less. Malcolm hit the ground hard, his hand covering his face where it was throbbing in pain.

Malcolm lay on the ground, hoping that TJ was done hurting him, when he felt a hand grab his arm. It wasn’t gentle, but it also wasn’t the crushing grip he was expecting. He chanced a look and saw it was Kirk who was pulling him up. Once back on his feet, Kirk brushed the dirt off the side of his face and stared at him, scratching at his short, golden brown hair and smiling. Didn’t even knock him out. Either the kid is tough or you’re a fucking pussy.

Indignant, TJ hollered, Hey, fuck you! Kirk chuckled and let go of Malcolm. He continued to stare at him while TJ asked, So? Is it a deal?

Malcolm watched Kirk’s eyes scanning over his thin frame and he looked away as Kirk lowered the boom on his already sad life. Yeah, it’s a deal.

Malcolm felt tears well in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had just buried his mother and now he was being sold for drugs to some gargantuan biker that would probably have him running the hated meth for him, or worse. He didn’t want to think about the worse. He couldn’t fathom it.

A cool breeze brought the scent of lavender from the old woman’s yard next door, and Malcolm breathed it in, hoping by some miracle it would be the last thing he’d smell and then he’d just fucking drop dead of some brain aneurism or something fatal and fast like that, but it didn’t happen.

Get his shit together and bring it over tomorrow sometime. I’ll take him now.

Malcolm made the attempt, but knew it was a really slim chance in hell that it would work, Please, don’t!

Without looking his way, Kirk told him, Deal is a deal, kid. Go get on my bike. It’s the blue shovel head.

Malcolm did start to cry then. He was being forced from his home. It wasn’t the best home. It wasn’t even a good home. He had been beaten and ignored there most of the time, but it was a home he knew. It was a home he was used to, and he was being sold like a fucking motorcycle part to some guy who would probably beat and ignore him...or worse.

He was standing next to the bike when Kirk walked up, too afraid to try and get on it. Once, he had tried to climb on TJ’s bike and had knocked the kickstand out and the bike had fallen over. It was the first beating he had received from TJ, and by far the worst.

Get on.

Malcolm did, and Kirk dug in the saddle bag to find him a helmet, then climbed on the front while he put on his own. Malcolm attached his skull cap, and soon Kirk had the bike started and they were off. Malcolm didn’t want to touch Kirk, but Kirk was a fast driver and Malcolm got scared, so he grabbed on around Kirk’s waist. His nerves were on edge so badly that each bump they hit on the residential streets tossed his nauseated stomach a little more until it grew painful. His head was beginning to hurt, so when they hit the freeway, the warm, stale Los Angeles air hitting his face felt like a sledge hammer was pounding on it.

Kirk drove them out of L.A., heading north to Ventura. Malcolm didn’t know where Kirk lived, but as they got closer to his house, he seemed to sense it. He was getting closer to something he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew in his aching stomach that it was going to be a living hell.

They pulled up in front of a house set off in the trees a full block away from the nearest neighbor. To Malcolm, it seemed to be miles from anyone, isolated and alone. By the huge fence around the place, he had a feeling that that was exactly the impression Kirk was going for.

Kirk pulled to the back where a big metal garage was and pulled inside after the automatic door was opened far enough for them to fit under it. As the bike stopped, the vibration in Malcolm’s ass and legs continued. He climbed off on shaky legs that were only partly being caused by the ride.

Kirk took his helmet off and held his hand out to take Malcolm’s. After he stored them back in the saddle bags, he looked at Malcolm until Malcolm met his gaze.

It’s late and I’m tired. We’ll go over the rules tomorrow. Until then, let’s go get some sleep. You are gonna need your rest, because this isn’t a fucking vacation home. You are going to earn your keep around here, and in more ways than just spreading your sweet legs.

That was it, he had confirmed it. He was going to be Kirk’s sex toy. He’d never even had a boyfriend before. He may never know what it felt like to be in love because he would spend however long Kirk wanted him just being used.

Kirk led Malcolm into the house. It was surprisingly neat for Kirk being a bachelor. The furniture was old and worn and the walls were covered in Harley posters and collectables. The bedroom was much the same. He stepped in and felt his knees ready to give out. This was it, he was going to be raped.

Kirk took off his colors and then stripped off his T-shirt. Malcolm’s jaw dropped as he saw Kirk’s chest and stomach. His tattoos stopped at his shoulders, leaving the rest of him smooth and ripped with huge muscles. Kirk saw him staring and smirked. Like what you see?

Malcolm felt his face heat and turned away. Kirk chuckled, opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled out one of his big T-shirts, throwing it over to Malcolm.

Bathroom is down the hall to the right. Change and come back in here. You have three minutes.

Malcolm had almost heard kindness in the man’s voice until Kirk had given him a time limit, reminding him his freedom was gone, what little of it he’d had to begin with. Malcolm rushed down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door. He almost locked it, but thought Kirk would probably not like that, so he hurried out of his clothes and shrugged the T-shirt over his head. It swallowed his small body. It wasn’t like Malcolm was rail thin, but he was very lean and he wasn’t overly tall. He hoped that being eighteen, he had time to grow some, but he hadn’t grown an inch in a year and his biological father hadn’t been tall either, or at least that’s what Gloria had told him. He looked in the mirror, wondering what the hell Kirk would want with him anyway. He had no body, his face was too delicate, and his eyes too big. His hair was so black it seemed to always look greasy and never stayed in place when he combed it.

He jumped as Kirk pounded on the door. I said three minutes, and you have thirty seconds of that left or I’m coming in after you.

Malcolm opened the door to see him standing there in nothing but a pair of blue boxers, looking pissed.

Sorry.

Get in bed.

Malcolm went back to the room and climbed under the Harley themed comforter, bringing it to his chin. Kirk got in after him and turned on his side, staring at him. Finally, he spoke. It was barely a whisper, but the man’s deep voice sounded threatening regardless. I know this pretty much sucks for you, but it’s the way it is. Get some sleep. And if you have to piss in the middle of the night, hold it. I don’t want you wandering around on your own.

Malcolm could barely get out, Okay.

Kirk turned over and fell asleep, leaving Malcolm to cry softly until sleep finally took him. On his way into slumber, he cursed his mother for leaving him.

Chapter 2

Malcolm woke the next morning to the sun peeking through the blinds and the smell of bacon frying. He chanced turning his head and saw that Kirk was already gone from the bed. Malcolm stretched for a minute, then sat up. He rubbed his hands over his face to clear the sleep out and let out a hiss as he touched the place TJ had hit him.

He didn’t quite know what to do. Kirk had said he didn’t want him wandering, but he had to piss something fierce. He tentatively got up and peeked out into the dining room, then walked softly to the kitchen, where he saw Kirk at the stove.

I was just coming to wake you up. Hungry? Kirk asked, all of this without looking at him. He was already dressed, and Malcolm let out a breath, relieved that it seemed Kirk would not be raping him that morning.

Yeah, it smells good, but I...well, I have to-

Kirk finished for him, Piss? Go ahead. I just don’t want you wandering at night.

Malcolm nodded and went to the bathroom. Just as he flushed, the door opened, and Kirk stood there staring at him as he was getting ready to wash his hands and face. Without saying a word, he opened the small linen closet next to the door and retrieved a tube of something, taking it to the smaller man. Malcolm was backed all the way into the counter by the sink and Kirk stood close, pinning him there. He took the tube and squeezed something light orange in color onto his fingers and moved to Malcolm’s face. Malcolm flinched and Kirk grinned, amused. It’s for the bruise. It helps.

Malcolm stood stock still as Kirk rubbed the ointment onto his sore face. As he did, he chanced a look up into the big man’s eyes. They were cold looking, but beautiful. Piercing was too light a word for them. Kirk narrowed his gaze as he concentrated on gently smoothing the substance on, then took his hand away. The heat that was coming off Kirk was intense. Malcolm thought for a moment that maybe it wasn’t Kirk’s body heat, but his own that was simply being reflected from Kirk’s wide chest. Malcolm had never been that close to someone who looked like that. So handsome...

Kirk hooked a finger under Malcolm’s chin and moved his face from side to side, looking over all his features. You really are a good-looking kid.

Malcolm pulled his face down and said, No, I’m not. And I’m not a kid, I’m eighteen. He didn’t know where he’d suddenly gotten the balls to back talk the man, but there it was. He expected another smack, but he was used to them.

Kirk grabbed his face hard and brought it back up. I didn’t say it to make you feel good. I’m just checking out my investment. Wondering what those pretty blue eyes look like while you’re getting fucked.

Malcolm’s pretty blue eyes got wide. Kirk chuckled, letting his face go and left the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, Come and eat. You’re too fucking skinny.

Looking down at his body, Malcolm sighed. He knew that and he didn’t need to be reminded of it. He went into the kitchen, wishing he’d been allowed to get dressed, but he didn’t want to push it. He sat at the table and Kirk set down a plate full of bacon and eggs and a smaller one with thick, whole grain toast.

Malcolm hadn’t seen so much food in a very long time. He was so used to cereal, he didn’t know if he even remembered what bacon tasted like. He picked up his fork as he said a sincere, Thank you. This looks good.

Kirk sat down across from him and started munching on an apple. Malcolm looked at him before he took a bite of his own food and asked, You’re not having any?

"I don’t eat that shit. You won’t be either once we get you healthy. Eat, you have work to