RIDING DARKNESS (A Back Down Devil MC Romance Novella) Read online

  Welcome to world of BACK DOWN DEVIL MOTORCYCLE CLUB

  ~

  A romance novella by London Casey

  London Casey is the pen name for bestselling romance author Karolyn James

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  RIDING DARKNESS

  A Back Down Devil MC Novella

  Ares Rhyne has worn a leather cut with a patch before, but the pain that came from having it taken away almost killed him, so he has no desire to accept the patch that Back Down Devil MC keeps offering. Living as a prospect allows him time to heal his wounds and the quiet chance of survival.

  On a mission to break up an underground gambling ring, Ares gets caught in a bloody and deadly shootout. When he escapes, he doesn’t expect to have a passenger on the back of his ride…

  Desperate to finally escape the hell she has been living in, Brooke Danyers was supposed to put the gun to the sexy, tough biker’s stomach and pull the trigger. Instead, she froze… and then left with him.

  There’s revenge to be had, but when Ares discovers who is behind it all – and that his fate with Back Down Devil is on the line – will his steamy romance with beautiful Brooke finally destroy his ties to the club forever?

  one.

  Taken him out, man. Hurry. Fuck, Ares, hurry, bro. They’re coming. They got the first door down. What are you waiting for? You said you had this. You said you wanted this. You said you wanted… oh, fuck… they’re here, man. Ares, we’re going to die.

  Ares opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of his rundown apartment. There were brown spots scattered like stupid polka dots thanks to water stains and who knew what else. The smell of burnt food and hot water filtered throughout the place from his neighbor up too damn early cooking her damn soup.

  On his chest, Ares held his gun tight. He looked down at it and let out his first waking breath of the day. That was how he judged his life these days, taking that first breath in the morning and then taking that last breath at night. While sleeping, he didn’t give a fuck what happened. Breathing or not. Hell, if it were possible to choose, wouldn’t everyone choose to die in their sleep? That would be peace. That would be the end. That would be true closure in life.

  But it didn’t happen like that all the time. And Ares knew it wouldn’t happen to him. Not in his life. Not with the decisions he’d made.

  He ran a hand down his leather cut. He touched the spots where there used to be patches. Patches of his success as part of another crew. He used to sit at a table. He used to smoke and drink, listening to the President talk about what the club needed to do. He used to vote on everything that came across that table. When he spoke, people gave a shit.

  That all came to an end with death at his fingertips and death within his soul.

  Ares sat up and looked to his right. A woman lay in his bed, naked. The covers were pulled down to her legs. She was on her stomach, head facing the other way. The curve of her ass was nice. There was a faded looking tattoo on her ass, something like that maybe once resembled a set of lips. If so, time hadn’t allowed that tattoo to keep its nice look.

  Shaking his head, Ares smiled and swung his feet out of the bed. He was fully dressed, as he always remained while he slept. Never knew when the time would come to fight or run. His black leather cut gave notice to everyone that he really didn’t have a club. He wasn’t quite one of the Lost Men, but he wasn’t fully patched into Back Down Devil MC either. Sometimes it mattered to Ares, sometimes it didn’t. Being part of a club meant having rules and responsibility. It meant appreciating life in a way that most people couldn’t grasp. All of that Ares had and all of that he lost.

  Ares turned and kicked the bed.

  The woman’s head popped up. She turned her head, hair covering her face. “What the fuck?”

  “Wake the fuck up. Take a shower. Make coffee or something. Then get the fuck out.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “You’re not my wife, babe,” Ares said. “You’re nothing. Just like me. We’re all nothing. So be nothing. Be gone.”

  Ares walked out of the bedroom and through the apartment. It was a crash pad and nothing more. He could have had a nicer place, but what would that prove? Miller had always taken good care of Ares, calling him the best prospect he’d ever seen. Ares never thought he’d be a bitch prospect again, but the cards life dealt were as such. But it kept things quiet on the outside. Inside, Ares fought a war nobody could quite understand. If anyone from his old club tried to come and fuck with him, they’d see him as a prospect and back off. Not that something of that nature truly worried Ares; he paid his debt to his old club and was sent off with nothing except a black leather cut and a scar on his chest.

  When Ares opened the door to his apartment, the smell of the rotten soup made his eyes water. For a split second, it made him think of the night before, with that woman from his bedroom. He licked his lips and cringed. He wondered what he had licked and what he had tasted.

  “Should have brushed my teeth,” he whispered.

  The neighbor’s door opened and a short, old woman stood there. She smiled a toothless smile and held a metal pot by its handle. The liquid inside the pot - considered to be soup - danced close to the edge of the pot.

  “Ares, there you are,” Mrs. Harrinberg said. “I made you some soup.”

  Ares leaned over and looked into the pot. It was cloudy water with something that maybe was a mushroom floating on top. If faced with a choice of eating the soup and eating the chick in his bed, Ares would take his chances with the woman again.

  “Thanks,” Ares said. “That looks… like something…”

  “Have some. Look at you. You look so hungry.”

  “I have to get going,” Ares said. “Will you save some for me?”

  Mrs. Harrinberg nodded and smiled.

  Ares knew she would never save the damn soup. In fact, by the time Ares made it to the door to the landing, Mrs. Harrinberg was already knocking on another door. She would do this for a good hour until the soup was too cold. Then she’d go back and reheat the nasty stuff and try again.

  It was a wonder someone in the building hadn’t killed her yet.

  Ares took the steps two at a time, his hands balled into fists. He was in the mood to kill. The mood came in waves and lately there had been some serious talk within the MC about problems with other clubs. Eight Under MC were gearing up quite a bit, seeking revenge. They were moving in silence, waiting for the right time to strike.

  Ares welcomed it all.

  The good, the bad, the bloody. Whatever the hell it was, he wanted it. He wanted the missions from Miller. He wanted the bitch work to keep his mind focused on something else. Because when Ares closed his eyes, all he saw was…

  Ares, we’re going to die.

  Ares opened the door to his apartment building and was faced with two men. One had a gun pointed at him. The other one stood with a fist cocked back. Before Ares could make a sound or a move, something hit him in the face. He wasn’t sure if it was the gun or the fist. Either way, it knocked him out cold.

  two.

  Brooke stood on the balcony that overlooked most of Frelen and enjoyed the last few drags of her cigarette. She stared east, looking at the city and then what had the appeal of a desolate desert. If it were the oth
er side of the building, she would have been able to see the ocean. That was the good view. That was the expensive view.

  Armen would never spend that kind of money, not for a view. Hell, Brooke was surprised he even paid for this room as it was. The last time they had been moving around and trying to set shit the fuck up Brooke slept in an abandoned building using newspapers as some kind of blanket. That meant this hotel was a goddamn luxury right now. And the cigarette tasted great. All Brooke needed was a cup of coffee.

  The door behind her slid open and Armen stood holding a steaming cup of coffee.

  “You have to taste this,” Armen said. “This is good shit.”

  “Perfect,” Brooke said. She took the mug and smelled it. She loved the smell of fresh, hot coffee. She sipped the coffee and then took a deep drag on the cigarette. With her eyes shut… “Perfect…”

  A calming sense came over Brooke, but it lasted all of a few seconds before Armen spoke and ruined it.

  “We’re close,” Armen said. “We have to get through tonight and then we’ll run again. Okay?”

  Brooke nodded. The coffee mug in her hand shook. “Why? I mean, I get why, but I just…”

  “Brooke, we have to do this. Someone in one of these dirty motorcycle clubs is the enemy. Remember that. These guys like money, booze, and pussy. I’ve got four other girls lined up for this one. I offered to give them a cut.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Fuck no. They’re fucking whores. They don’t need a thing.”

  “And I’m doing this too?”

  “Yes,” Armen said. He walked to the railing and stared out to the horizon. “Yes. I need you there, Brooke. I need you to look like a whore. Just like the rest of them. You’re smarter and you’ll collect a lot of cash on this. Then we shut it down and run like hell.”

  “What are you going to find here?” Brooke asked.

  Armen turned his head. “I don’t like being questioned. If you don’t want the fucking truth, then get the fuck out. I promised you that I would keep you alive and I did. The ends and the means…”

  “Okay,” Brooke whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Brooke didn’t like this at all. It never seemed enough for Armen. It always seemed about getting more money and fast. So they could run. So they could keep traveling. Armen told Brooke people were coming and that’s why they needed to move. They needed a lot of cash to get ready to stockpile weapons. That would be the only way to defend the honor of what was taken.

  “I have something for you,” Armen said. “Come inside with me.”

  Brooke looked out and wished she could be there. Out there, anywhere. She turned and went into the hotel room. Armen turned from the bed and had a gun in his hand.

  “I want you to take this,” Armen said. “I want you to get ready for tonight.”

  “Christ, what are we doing?” Brooke asked.

  “You don’t get how bad Frelen is. There’s a lot of bullshit happening. Okay? A lot of guys that want to kill each other. And trust me, just because you have a set of tits and a pussy, it don’t protect you.”

  Brooke swallowed hard. She put her hand around the gun and nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Armen.”

  Armen closed in on Brooke. He reached up and touched her face. “Brooke, you may need to use that weapon. You can’t be afraid to pull the trigger. Remember what was taken from you. From us. Okay? You have to be strong. Revenge is easy in our minds, but so hard in reality. When it finally does happen, we’ll be set free. For the rest of our lives.”

  Armen came closer and closer. His nose touched Brooke’s. His lips fluttered and his eyes went wide. Brooke hated the temptation her body gave Armen. She couldn’t control it. She couldn’t help how she looked or what Armen thought.

  “Stop,” Brooke whispered. “You’re my brother.”

  “Alleged,” Armen whispered. “We both know I don’t look like our parents. I bet I’m adopted. I bet we’re not even blood related, Brooke. You know what that means…”

  “I said stop,” Brooke said. She backed up. She held the gun out.

  Armen started to laugh. “Helps if there’s bullets in the gun.”

  Brooke froze and gasped. “I…”

  “That’s good,” Armen said. He grabbed the gun from Brooke’s hand and threw it to the bed. He then pulled Brooke close, his hand to the back of her neck. “That’s good. Don’t be afraid. Okay, sister?”

  “Okay,” Brooke said.

  “Tomorrow at this time we’ll be on the move again. One day closer to the truth. To preparing. To protecting each other. I promise it.”

  Armen let Brooke go. He took the gun and walked away.

  Brooke dropped to her knees and reached for the nightstand. That’s where Armen had cigarettes. Brooke grabbed the pack and hurried back outside.

  She stood there, smoking another cigarette, her mind racing.

  Something needed to change. The truth needed to come forward.

  More than anything else, Brooke just wanted to know who killed her parents.

  three.

  Ares opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet. He threw his arms out and expected to be back in his bed. To find a woman next to him. To pull her close, whisper something in her ear to make her think he cared, and then fuck her.

  But that wasn’t the case at all. Ares took a step forward and almost went down again. He quickly balanced himself, his head throbbing. He touched his chest and stomach, looking for a bullet hole.

  They hadn’t shot him.

  “Stupid fuckers,” Ares growled.

  He touched the side of his head and saw blood on his fingertips. He looked around, figuring out his surroundings, and realized that the assholes who attacked him simply dragged him to the side of his apartment building and left him there.

  They didn’t tie him up.

  They didn’t kill him.

  They didn’t take him somewhere to confuse him.

  Whoever the hell did this were complete idiots.

  Ares growled again and walked, keeping one hand against the building. He then pushed from the building and ran to the parking lot. At the very least, he expected to find his motorcycle trashed.

  He found the ride on its side, but the tires weren’t flat and the chrome wasn’t busted to shit. The leather case on the back was opened and torn apart. Someone had been looking for something.

  Ares grabbed his motorcycle and lifted it back up. He looked left to right. Was it someone from the old crew trying to dig up dirt? That didn’t make sense. Ares took nothing with him when he was stripped of his patches. He left with blood on his face and a black leather cut. Nothing more.

  Climbing on the ride, Ares started it. The beast roared to life without hesitation. He looked behind him at the leather pack and wondered who would be checking into his shit. He had nothing to hide. Hell, he had nothing to offer. Unless something bigger was brewing with Back Down Devil.

  Ares walked the ride backward and then looked and saw something on the pavement. There were tracks. Fresh rubber markings in the parking lot. There were three tracks. Two side by side and one in front.

  “Shit,” Ares whispered.

  Someone from Back Down Devil must have come by and surprised the two assholes who attacked him. Then they all took off. That left two on one.

  Ares throttled the ride and added a fourth rubber mark in the parking lot.

  He sped off and cut through the back roads until he hit the main strip in Frelen. The only thing he could do was work toward the clubhouse. The logical thing to do when in trouble was get to the clubhouse. There were men, weapons, and protection there. If an enemy was dumb enough to chase one of the guys into the compound, they would be lit up with bullets.

  Flying down the road, Ares started to cut in and out of traffic. He dodged cars like it was a video game. But this was no damn game. His hands were tight on the handlebars, knowing that all it took was one wrong split second decision to crash into a car or drop the motorcycle.

  Runn
ing two red lights left Ares feeling alive.

  He spotted a police cruiser a block up the road. The lights were flashing and a car was turned sideways. Ares pulled up to the intersection and when the police officer saw him, he pointed and then motioned to the side of the road. The person in the car looked scared to death. There was a dent in the passenger door.

  That was all Ares needed to see. He throttled his ride again and cut to the left, the back tire squealing. He flew down the next street and when he made the next right, he spotted the rides. Two motorcycles chasing one. And that one had a large Back Down Devil patch on the back.

  Ares rode as hard as the motorcycle would allow it. He gained speed and then ground. The three motorcycles in front of him cut down road after road, sometimes going into traffic, sometimes taking narrow back alleys. They were risky moves to make and only someone who really knew Frelen could know the alleys and dare to take them.

  As Ares got closer, he saw the guy on the one motorcycle look back.

  It was Miller.

  Fucking Miller… the President of Back Down Devil MC.

  That’s who was being chased down. And there was no other guys in sight. The two men chasing Miller had black leather cuts with nothing on the back. They were prospects for a rival club. And they were chasing down the President of Back Down Devil.

  This was insane.

  This was deadly.

  Ares knew it was his job to protect Miller. Even if it cost Ares his life, he needed to make sure that the President made it to the head of the table alive and well.

  Ares kept at it hard, following the lead of Miller versus the movements of the asshole prospects in front of him. He managed to gain more ground, narrowly missing a few large dumpsters and almost hitting a few brick walls.

  Miller cut down another alley and Ares knew this was his chance to do something. He throttled harder than ever. He gritted his teeth. The motorcycle bellowed and inched more and more. Slowly, Ares started to get between the two prospects. The two men looked at him and Ares remembered the one with the gun. That was the asshole who hit him.

  Paybacks were a motherfucker and Ares intended to make these guys pay.

  He cut to the right and hit the back wheel of one of the motorcycles. It quickly cut left to right, left to right. The motorcycle then went right, crashing into the back of a building. The motorcycle twisted in wicked metal carnage and the rider went into the air. The guy hit the ground and Ares ran over him without thinking twice. The other rider looked back and started to lose control of his ride. He managed to save it just in time to pull out a gun.