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She raises her eyes to mine at the growl that came unbidden from deep in my throat. “He won’t have the chance.”

I reach for her and guide her by her elbow to the rear exit off of the dark hallway we’re standing in. She seems dazed, and I look over at her wondering how much damage he caused when he struck her. The cool night air that hits us seems to pull her from her trance.

“Wh… what are you doing?” She asks as the door to the bar and the noise of the jukebox closes behind us.

“Getting you out of here,” I tell her and point to my bike parked near the street. “Get on.” I swing my leg over the seat, hit the kickstand with the back of my boot, and wait impatiently as she stands there looking at me like she’s never seen a man on a bike before.

***

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PAIN

Ashley Wheels

©2016 by Ashley Wheels. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or series may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Ashley Wheels or her legal representative.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or used fictitiously. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Author's Note: This book contains adult situations and language, violence, and sexual activity. Mature readers only.

This preview is unedited, and may be slightly different from the published version.

Synopsis

Chalk -

Have you ever cared for someone so much it hurt? Loved them so much you couldn't even describe it? Scared you to your core? What if you were too scared to let them know how important they were to you?

Afraid of what they might say because you aren't a good person? You’ve killed, kidnapped, sold drugs and so many other things. Things you aren’t proud of, but can’t undo, no matter how much you might wish now that you know a feeling you never thought you would.

What if you waited too long and now they're gone forever, but you'll never be the same?

Well that happened to me.

This is the story of how one innocent girl changed my life forever, and one beautiful woman helped me survive the pain.

Chapter One

10 years ago - 20 years old

Damn noise dug through the nice sleep I had going on. "Chalk, wake the fuck up. Vince is calling for church in five minutes." Brax yells from just outside the door of my room.

Groaning, I wake up but then the weight of something hot and heavy on me starts my heart thudding in my chest. What the fuck? A flashback from last night instantly hits me, the image of a sexy as hell mouth on my cock sucking me dry. Oh yeah, I’m not alone. Shit, I do not have time for the half hard-on that image caused.

I push the arm of the chick off me. Fuck, I can’t even remember her name, and I don't care. It doesn't matter, since I won't do her again. The damn bitch grabs at me tighter, just as I'm about to grab for my boxers. She has a hold on me like I am her fucking teddy bear or some shit. I give her a rough shake and wait until she opens her eyes. “It’s time to go. See yourself out.” Harsh? Maybe.

She sits up with a pout, letting the sheet drop to flash her tits in my face. Almost made me wish things were different. “I’ll wait here for you, babe. We can have a repeat of last night.”

“No, I don’t do repeats, ever. Now get out. You’d better be gone before I get back.” As much as I might like to have that sweet mouth on me again, it’s a rule that I don’t intend to break anytime soon. No second nights ever.

Damn it, what the hell is up with Vince? Always calling church meetings at the crack of dawn. I just passed out maybe three hours ago. Know damn well it can't be past five a.m. yet. And, sure enough, when I make it to the dresser where my watch is waiting, I'm right. Five o'clock exactly.

A glance at the pile of clothes on the floor reminds me I need to do laundry soon. Hate that shit. Wonder if one the girls will do it for me? I find the least dirty pair of jeans and pull them on. Only takes a second to grab my cut, tuck my gun into my belt, and head to the meeting room.

***

The funny part of a room full of sleepy, hungover bikers is the absolute silence. Nobody even groans.

Vince comes in and takes his seat at the head of the table. Wide awake as always. Fucker never sleeps. "Everyone here? I know this is an ungodly hour, but it's important and couldn't wait." His glare touches every damn one of us, daring us to bitch about the time. Nobody did.

He could say that ungodly part again, although it always makes me smirk considering nothing godly is ever talked about here.

Apparently satisfied we all are listening, he takes a drink of his coffee and sets it down before he starts talking. "We've been hired to do a security detail of sorts. I know it's not our normal rodeo, but it's a big pay and something I couldn't refuse."

You'd think the big pay would intrigue me, but it's really what could it be that he couldn't refuse that gets my attention most. Vince is not a man you can push into anything. But I'm especially wondering what couldn't fucking wait a few more hours.

The intense expression on Vince’s face worries me. Whatever this is, it must be serious, and he isn’t sure we’re going to vote in favor of it. Although, he’d just need majority to carry whatever he wants to do, and he never has trouble with votes. What the hell could this entail that we wouldn’t vote in favor?

“Couldn’t refuse?” Brax yawns around the question. At least it's him asking and not me. I’m already on thin ice, being the newest member, and youngest. It wouldn’t take much to piss some off the veterans off and get my patch pulled. So I keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

Vince scowled toward Brax. “I’ve already taken the job for us. No voting. Yeah, I know that’s not how we normally do things, but hear me out.” He turns to the big screen and it turns on.

It flashes a picture of a small girl on the screen. She can’t be more than maybe six or seven years old, thin, auburn hair in pigtails. Reminds me of that old Shirley Temple movie that my grams always had playing in her home during the few summers I remember spending with her. Something is off though, and I can’t seem to place it, so I wait to hear more.

“Her name is Abigail Rochester, Will's kid." Heads nod around the table, as if that explains it all. "We handled that shit for him last year, but now some made men up in New York have a hit out on him. You don't just turn over evidence that gets a mob boss sent up for life and live happily ever after. He already knows his fate and he refuses to fight it. He’s hired us to protect Abigail, not him. He paid in advance, and left more than enough in a hidden account to ensure she is taken care of without the club needing to do anything more in that respect. Also if we were to need more for whatever reason to keep her safe, it's there. The deal is, the account is in Abigail’s name and her finger prints are linked to gain access, she’s the only one that can get into it. Which makes her a very valuable target to the right people, including the ones after her daddy.”

Messer's chair scrapes on the floor as he tips it back. “How much are we talkin’ about here?”

“In the mils, with it growing each month and year as it sits there. This girl, is worth a hell of a lot of money. There’s a catch, and this is the part where I couldn’t refuse came into play, besides her being Will's kid. Apparently, she’s sick. I haven’t gotten all the details on exactly what that means, but it’s not good. Her father wants her to live her life to the fullest and not to have any worries.”

I can't help it. “Ok. Wait a fuckin’ minute. We’re an outlaw Motorcycle Club. He gets that right? What the fuck do any of us know what to do with a six year old girl, never mind a sick one at that?” The silence was eerie after my outburst. The stares from all around the room are not pleased ones. Slumping back against the wall, I shut the hell up.

Daggers fly at me from Vince's eyes. “Yes, he’s aware, you dipshit. And I’m going to assume it’s the lack of sleep that caused that disrespect. Do it again Chalk, and we’re going to have problems. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Ain't losing my fucking patch over no kid.

A thundercloud parks itself on the President's face, but he goes on. “As I was saying, she’s sick. Not something that we can catch or any shit like that, but she’s not likely to make it past early adulthood. With all this bad shit we do, this will help us keep ourselves in check. Maybe we all won’t end up in Hell afterwards."

And there we have it. Vince is always looking for some way to redeem our souls for some reason. We sell dope, pussy, guns, you name it, and he feels guilty over it.

He's not finished, though. "She’s arriving in a couple of hours, and she’s smart as fuck. She’s extremely quiet but do NOT let that fool you. She knows the situation she’s being put in, as well as what’s going on with her father. Tends to watch and listen a lot. I do hope we shield her from our kind of bad shit for as long as possible, which means we all have to be on guard.”

Yeah he’s right, most of us will go straight to Hell, no passing go and collecting two-hundred dollars. But this could very easily be the straw that breaks the camel's back and sends us all there even faster. So many fuckin’ things can go wrong with this scheme of his. But as the Pres, he’s the one leading. Just hope it's not straight to jail, or our deaths.

Messer speaks up again. “So, who’s taking care of her? Little kid like that, gotta have somebody watchin' over it all the time. And where we keeping her? Clubhouse ain't no place for a little kid.” Some of the others nod agreement.

“We’re going to draw straws, that’s the fairest way. Of course, we’ll all pitch in and help with her, but whoever draws the short one has the main responsibility taking care of her. A stable figure that’s consistent in her everyday life.” He pins us all with another glare. "As for where to keep her, we don't have much choice. She has to stay here where we have a full force to protect her. That'll mean a few changes around here. Can't very well have a kid running around through a party here, can we? So while the kid's awake, we watch what we're doing." Already prepared, he grabs a few straws off the table, cuts one, and then shuffles them around. Holds his hand out to each member. Then turns to me.

FUCK. This is going to backfire on me. I just know it. The shitty luck I have, watch me end up with the damn kid. Slowly, I grab one of the three remaining straws, knowing no one else has the short one yet, making the chances greater that I’ll get it.

“Oh shit, man.” All eyes are on me. I hold up the straw, and it’s fucking short.

With a slap on the shoulder that nearly knocks me over, Vince gives me a huge grin. “Alright, Chalk, looks like you’re up. Better get ready and don’t fuck this up. Do it right and there's a bonus in it for you.” I get the distinct feeling I was set up. The newest member gets the shit details pretty regularly, and even if he made a show of making it a fair draw, I'm pretty sure he intended I would get this particular pile of shit.

"What are you fuckers waiting for? We got shit to do. The kid has to have a room. Whoever's in the one next to Chalk, clear the fuck out. And leave it clean. The rest of you, get the rest of this shithole cleaned up." He dismisses us with a wave and we all head out. I beeline it back to bed. The others can take care of the other shit. I’m going to need more sleep if I have to deal with a kid for days on end. Fuck, how long is this job even going to last?

***

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