Kellan Read online

  Kellan

  Great Wolves M.C. - Book Four

  By

  Jayne Blue

  Copyright © 2015 by Jayne Blue

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  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.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One 2

  Chapter Two 9

  Chapter Three 16

  Chapter Four 24

  Chapter Five 32

  Chapter Six 36

  Chapter Seven 42

  Chapter Eight 49

  Chapter Nine 55

  Chapter Ten 64

  Chapter Eleven 70

  Chapter Twelve 78

  Chapter Thirteen 82

  Chapter Fourteen 86

  Chapter Fifteen 92

  Chapter Sixteen 96

  Chapter Seventeen 104

  Chapter Eighteen 110

  Chapter Nineteen 116

  Chapter Twenty 121

  Chapter Twenty One 129

  Chapter Twenty Two 135

  Chapter Twenty Three 139

  Chapter Twenty Four 145

  Chapter Twenty Five 154

  Chapter Twenty Six 163

  Chapter Twenty Seven 171

  Chapter Twenty Eight 173

  A Message from Jayne Blue 179

  Exclusive Sneak Peek of Sawyer by Jayne Blue 181

  Books by Jayne Blue 184

  Chapter One

  Kellan

  It’s the little shit that ends up changing your life in big ways. Ways you never could have expected. If I hadn’t leaned six inches over to my left to grab a canteen off the floor of that Humvee, the IED blast would have blown a hole through my chest too, instead of just tearing off my right leg below the knee. Or if I had leaned over just two or three inches more, maybe I wouldn’t have been hit at all. Or if I’d have just stayed home like the rest of my M.C. brothers, I never would have been on that shithole of a road in the Parwan Province. Instead, I might have just had a sweet piece of ass squeezing her thighs against me as she straddled the seat of my Harley while we blazed down I-75.

  It’s not that I spend a lot of time thinking about the what ifs. I have no regrets. Even after all of it, I know I came home lucky, if not easy. Sometimes though, don’t you get that feeling low in your gut when you know some little thing is about to blast your world apart again?

  “Just give them about five more minutes.” The bartender, a college kid, early twenties, flashed me a toothy grin as he brushed the hair out of his eyes. What the fuck was I doing here? I was in a hole-in-the-wall lakefront bar in what had to be the hick capital of Michigan. The only other place to get food around here was at a truck stop called Hummers. I shit you not.

  The kid slid me a fresh cold draft beer. “Boss says that one’s on the house,” he said. At least that was something. I was about to say that when my phone buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out.

  “Hey, Prez,” I said. Colt hated when I called him that. He was still getting used to the title though it suited him damn well.

  “You on your way back yet?”

  “No, the headlining act hasn’t even come out yet. You sure you heard the name of this place right? The Sand Bar?”

  “That’s the place.” Colt laughed. He was getting a kick out of my misery. We’d just opened a new bar in our hometown, Lincolnshire, Ohio. We called it The Wolf Den. It was club headquarters, but we were turning it into the kind of place the whole town felt comfortable spending their money in. A big part of that was lining up a killer house band. I’d been scouting the tri-state area for months trying to find just the right talent. So far, I’d seen nothing but a string of pop star wannabes and shit that was half grunge and half . . . well . . . shit. I had no reason to think The Sand Bar was going to bring me anything better, but here I was.

  “Just come on home when you finish up there,” Colt said. “We’ll take a break and regroup. There’s some shit going on down here we need to talk about anyway.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, curious what kind of shit he meant. But before I could ask anything else, I had to click off because the crowd of townies and college-aged kids started to stir. I couldn’t help thinking what a huge waste of my time this was. Just like all of the other dives I’d been in. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking agreeing to take this on. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Most of the rowdier hicks crowded around the dance floor, beers in hand. A few of the busboys doubled as roadies on stage, setting up the microphones and amps for tonight’s act. The real party was happening past the patio out on the beach and anchored just beyond it. Boats had come in from all over the Irish Hills area to watch the band play. That is, if they ever fucking made it on stage.

  The bartender vaulted over the bar one-handed and ran up to the stage. He stepped to the mic, adjusting it higher as the crowd playfully booed him and the din died down.

  “Are you ready, people?” he shouted too close to the mic and the reverb made me as well as everyone else in the room wince. This wasn’t a good sign.

  “Show us your tits, Brad!” came a shout from the back. All activity in the bar stopped; everyone was focused on the stage, including the busboys and bartenders.

  Brad, the bartender, stepped back, running a hand through his unruly blond hair. “You couldn’t handle this jelly,” he said. Oh for fuck’s sake. I was outta there.

  When the catcalls and whistles started to escalate, Brad put his hands up, then waved them downward to quiet the crowd. “Okay. Without further ado. I’m pretty sure she’s finally ready. You ready, Miss Rhodes?” he called behind him.

  “Fuck you, Brad!” came a playful feminine voice from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. Brad’s face fell and his posture shifted. I got the impression he was thinking about how much he’d like whoever belonged to that voice to actually fuck him. Jesus.

  “She loves me.” Brad laughed into the microphone. “All right, all right, the moment you’ve all been waiting for ... the one ... the only ... your favorite hot mess and mine ... Mallory and the Malcontents!” Brad made a sweeping gesture toward the stage and then sidestepped around the microphone. He came to the edge of the platform and faked a lunge as if he were about to stage dive then neatly popped down to the dance floor to good-natured slaps on the back before he disappeared into the crowd.

  The lights around the dance floor dimmed. There was movement in the dark, shuffling on stage, and a light cymbal crash. Then a slow, driving drum beat started as two spotlights came up, pointing straight down on the stage and the lonely mic stand. The bar patrons started to hoot and whistle, followed a few seconds later by screams from the beach and out on the boats as the sound reverberated across the water. The drumbeat continued. I could see two guitar players in shadow but the mic stand was solitary. The lead singer still hadn’t come out from backstage. A few random catcalls morphed into outright booing. Whatever was happening back there, the singer needed to get her shit together soon or this crowd was going to turn big time.

  As the unease grew, my hand went to the handle of the Glock I always c
arried concealed at my side. I tried to make eye contact with the bouncers at the exits, but they were both chatting up college girls.

  Fuck this, I thought. I’m not waiting another second and getting into a brawl that was none of my business.

  Then the air in the room seemed to change. My heart skipped as I looked back toward the stage. Off to the side, still in shadow, the guitar picked up the instantly recognizable melody of “Creep” by Radiohead. Fucking fantastic. More grunge. I downed the last of my beer and got up to leave.

  Then she came out. Something shifted in me and I had that feeling low in my gut that something special was about to happen. She stepped into the light singing the first slow, quiet notes of the song and I got a look at Mallory of the Malcontents.

  She was stunning, beautiful with white blonde hair cropped just above her shoulders, a shock of hot pink running down one side half covering her eye. She wore black leather pants, silver-sequined stilettos, and a skin-tight black tank top which showed off her toned, tanned arms and a killer rack, her bra strap already slung over her right shoulder. Her right upper arm was tattooed with a black feminine symbol, the masculine symbol in the same place on her left arm. She took the song slow, deliberate, barely more than breathing out the first notes about a beautiful world. She cast her eyes down, her hands caressing the microphone in a way that made my dick tighten. Then she looked up. She had the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen with irises rimmed in black.

  She growled the next note then launched into the chorus. She let loose a little, hitting the high notes dead on with a power that sent a shiver down my spine and straight to my cock. Fuck me, the girl was hot.

  Mallory stalked her guitar player and quiet fury rose within me as she circled him while singing about wanting a perfect body and a perfect soul. She leaned against him back to back and swayed her hips in time to the drum beat as her guitar player slid his fingers down the frets. Yeah, he was good at working the crowd too; I just wanted to bash the fucker over the head with that guitar. I didn’t like him touching her.

  Maybe he had some sixth sense too that shit was about to change because he let out a growl and twirled away from Mallory. This left her alone with her microphone as he hit his guitar hard three times making the signature ka-ka-chunk ... ka-ka-chunk effect, right before Mallory’s voice soared into the last chorus.

  Mallory turned to the crowd and wound up to hit the last notes of the song with a controlled power and amplitude that made her microphone pretty much unnecessary. It was breathtaking, soul-wrenching, and I wondered what the fuck she really was doing here. She didn’t belong here. She belonged in an arena in front of thousands. She belonged with me. Under me. Above me. The crowd cheered as she dropped an F-bomb then belted out the last of the song and let her hand holding the mic fall to her side.

  “You want her, right?” My head snapped back to reality as the bartender slid another draft in front of me. “I mean, that’s why you’re here, you said.”

  “What? Who? You mean them?” I was in the middle of picking my damn jaw up off the floor as Mallory and her Malcontents launched into an oversexed version of a Beach Boys song. She sang about getting around and it was starting to piss me off. I didn’t want to think about her with anyone else and it made no sense. I didn’t know her. She was nothing to me. And yet, it seemed like every nerve ending I had was tuned to her.

  “You’re scouting talent. I know the look.” Brad the bartender grabbed my empty glass and stuck it in the sink beneath the bar.

  I downed the fresh beer and tried to collect myself. “Yeah. Do they have a manager?” The second I said it I kind of regretted it. Bringing that girl back to The Wolf Den could cause me all kinds of distractions I didn’t need.

  Brad smiled and spread his hands across the bar. He leaned forward. “God help the poor bastard who ever tries to manage Mallory. But yeah, I know who’s in charge of booking their gigs. You got a card or something? I’ll make sure he gets the word.”

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my card. I stared at it for a second, fingering the red-and-black raised lettering. It was still hard to get used to the fact that we’d made it out. With Colt’s leadership, we’d managed to shake loose the thug shit we’d been doing to make ends meet. The Wolf Den was a legit business. Finally. I also knew somebody like Mallory Rhodes could draw in some serious money. Yeah, I could still think with my head, not my dick. For now.

  I slid the card across the bar and looked harder at the kid. He didn’t own the place but it occurred to me whoever did might not be in a hurry to share his band. There was a good chance the kid might get instructions to wipe his ass with that card rather than give it to the band’s manager. Later, I’d tell myself that’s the reason I stayed. It was part of it, but there was no way I was leaving that bar without seeing Mallory Rhodes up close.

  “Think I’ll stick around a while just the same,” I said. The kid offered me another beer but I waved him off. I had an hour’s ride home. Plus, if I managed to get that girl alone, my dick was going to cloud my judgment plenty. I didn’t need help from the alcohol. So, I turned and watched, mesmerized as Mallory owned the crowd, song after song.

  “On Fridays the band usually stays for the bonfire,” Brad said just as Mallory and the Malcontents finished their set. “Head straight out back and you’ll probably be able to catch her.”

  I gave him a nod and finished the last of my beer. I pushed the mug across the bar and slid him a twenty. Then I headed out the back toward the beach.

  I found her almost instantly. It was like every part of me was tuned in to her. Well, it was that and following the crowd of other guys hoping to get close to her.

  She leaned against a wooden railing, her hands hooked into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. She was surrounded by other men. She smiled at them, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She shook her head, letting her hair fall over the side of her face as they offered to buy her drinks.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to fight over her, that wasn’t what I was here for. Turned out I didn’t have to. Maybe it was something in my eyes or the way I carried myself. I couldn’t even say it was because they knew who I rode with because I wasn’t wearing my cut. Still though, when I got close, the rest of the guys took a step back. Then Mallory looked up and met my eyes. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she cocked her head to the side.

  No. Fuck that. I wasn’t some groupie. She was about to find that out. If she started with some line asking me if I liked what I saw, I probably would have grabbed her then and there and kissed the smirk right off her. I wasn’t interested in this girl’s act. I wanted the real thing.

  She didn’t feed me that line though. As I got closer, I think she understood the look in my eyes. The guys fawning over her were boys. She was about to deal with a real man. They knew it too and cleared out, leaving me alone with Mallory under the light of the moon with the waves lapping behind us.

  “You’re new,” she said. God. Whether she was singing or talking her voice seemed to go straight to my cock. It was low, with a sexy little rasp to it, like she smoked. She didn’t though, I would have smelled it on her.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Not really a lake kind of guy. I like wheels, not water.”

  She laughed. “I can see that. You’re not really dressed for it with your jeans, motorcycle boots, and ink.”

  “You could say I’m more of a city guy.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. The shock of pink fell across her eye and I resisted the urge to smooth it back. “Are you going to tell me you came all the way out here just to see me . . . uh . . . what’s your name?”

  “Kellan,” I said. I took another step toward her. I saw her breath hitch and her chest rise and fall. I had her just as unsettled as she had me. And I hadn’t even touched her yet. “And Mallory Rhodes, huh? Is that your real name?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Yep. Since the day I was born. Is that your bike parked out fron
t? Are you going to offer to take me for a ride tonight?”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  She thumped her head against the railing and rolled her eyes. “Anywhere. Everywhere. You think you’re man enough to handle it?”

  She had her mask firmly in place. She was used to this. Guys coming up to her after a show, wanting her. Willing to do anything she asked just for a quick taste. It’s not what I wanted though. Well, it was. But I had the sense that the moment I did taste her, there’d be no going back. She had so much more to give and I wanted it all. I came back here thinking I could go for a quick fuck. Seeing her, listening to her, being this close to her, I knew that was never going to be enough.

  “How about I settle for you taking me home? Do you live close?”

  I didn’t move. I kept my eyes locked with hers. She looked away first, sensing I was gunning for a hell of a lot more from her. But I didn’t want to scare her.

  She was bold. She ran her fingers along my bicep and the swirling tattoos she found there. She lifted her eyes then, slowly. She wore thick false eyelashes and her eyeliner had started to run. But when she looked up, her gaze locked right on mine and stayed there.

  Yeah. Just that little gesture. The slightest shifting in the air around me. The corner of Mallory’s perfect, pouty, bee-stung lips curving into a sultry smirk. It was just enough to change my life forever. Because I knew then I was going to make her mine. Soon. And I knew she was going to let me. I also knew she’d beg me for it as she moaned my name.

  What I didn’t know is how much hell it would put us both through.

  Chapter Two

  Mallory

  I know what most men think when they look at me on stage. Most women too. They think I want them. That I’ll make love to them and it might just be the greatest night of their life. They’ll have something to brag about to their friends. Something to keep them warm at night when they go home to their wives or girlfriends and worry that their lives might never be interesting again. But for one night, for one moment, when I lock eyes with them from behind the shield of my microphone, they know that every note I sing is about them. My gift. My curse.