Spun (Kings of Chaos 1) - Page 1

Chapter One

Clueless people like to say bullshit like, ‘Life only happens to you if you let it.’ Those are the ones who have had the luxury of a good life and caring parents. The entitlement kids they drone on about on television. Born with a set of rose-colored glasses, they can’t even fathom what life without choice would be like. Truth is, we’re all born into situations. Most can change the path their life takes. They can leave, escape and shape themselves into whatever they wish. For people like me, that isn’t possible. I was born into the Kings of Chaos, to a father who only cared when it was convenient and a mother who never wanted the title.

Don’t get me wrong. They weren’t the worst parents in the world. I didn’t get beaten, starved, or bartered out for cash. I’ve seen all those things happen in our life. I always had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my gut. In their minds, that is where their parental duties ended. I learned at a young age, abuse comes in many flavors. Their spice of choice was neglect. Completely uninvolved, they allowed anyone who was willing to raise me.

Kings always came first, and as much as the others tried to pick up the slack, the shit stung. Being passed from house to house like a communal piece of property, dented my self-esteem like a can dropped on the floor of a grocery store. I’m grateful for my Chaos family. I just wish my folks gave two shits—then I wouldn’t be in my current position.

The pounding continues on the door of the tiny bedroom I stay in at the back of the house.

I’m lucky Mel took me in. I know it. Still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stand her old man, Fuse. I mentally count the money I’ve held back from each paycheck and cringe. Nearly everything went to the club and got doled out as needed. I had enough to approach our President and ask to live on my own, then my mother stole it and took a trip out of town on my dime. It damn near broke my spirit. That’s when I decided to stay out of the house permanently.

It took me three more years, but I’ve gathered up enough money and courage to go to our President, Stone, and argue my case for real this time. The club likes its women to stay together. It’s much safer that way. I get that, but it doesn’t matter, ’cause I’m sick of being shuffled from house to house and left to the mercy of the head of each household. I need stability and a chance to feel like I’m worth something.

The latch lock on the top of the door jiggles under the force of Fuse’s fist. The hotheaded fucker is upping my timetable with his bullshit.

Technically, I’m unclaimed and that puts me in a dangerous situation. My father doesn’t care enough to look out for me the way he should. Everyone knows it, and this bottom feeder is now trying to use it to his advantage.

“You in there, Nevy?” Fuse asks.

The sound of his raspy voice sends chills up my spine. You know I am, dick.

A sleazy, false quality about him always makes my skin crawl. He has a wandering eye. I don’t know how Melanie puts up with him. I wouldn’t. He doesn’t even keep the dirt he does a secret. It’s a blatant insult. At least most of the men who cheat keep it from their old ladies. No one’s stupid in this life. Monogamy is rare. In a lifestyle all about freedom and no restraints, that isn’t a shocker. Lately, I’ve noticed Fuse’s crazy filled dark eyes lingering on me more and more.

“Yeah,” I call. I glance around my room taking in the child’s white dresser, small twin bed with white bedding, and the full-length mirror attached to the back of my door. Fuck, I wish I had a window big enough to climb out of. The three rectangular windows that sit high on the wall won’t allow anyone bigger than a five-year-old to fit through. Plus, I’d need a ladder to reach them in the first place. I’m five-foot eight and on the skinny side. So, I’m not too proud to make an exit when I sense trouble brewing.

“Come out a minute. I need a favor,” he purrs. Slippery as oil, he’s an ink stain darkening souls one at a time.

Fuse’s voice is laced with an intention I don’t want to examine. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “With what? I’m busy,” I say, careful to keep my tone light and steady. He’s a predator. If I show fear, he’ll go in for the kill.

“Doing what?”

I gnash my teeth together. Like the old school mafia, men run shit. That’s the double-edged sword in the outlaw biker life. I’m in his house and I owe him respect. Blowing him off isn’t an option. Less than one-percent of bikers engage in criminal activity, but that black diamond with the one percent places you in a whole new world. The difference between happiness and hell is the make of the man you choose. It’s why I have no interest in becoming an old lady. People make nice until they have you. Then their true colors come out.

“I’m going over some things for work. Can’t Mel do it?” I lie through my teeth. He knows better than to dick with the cash flow coming in.

We have a number of businesses going around town. I suspect they are more to launder money than they are to bring money in, but that’s none of my concern. I usually work wherever they need me. Right now, that position is at our strip club, Golden. Technically, I’m a waitress with managerial duties. I don’t handle all the day-to-day operations, but I sure as hell count out at the end of every night. Chaos doesn’t trust outsiders with their green unless they have to. As a club kid, I’ve played the role of reliable worker since I was old enough to hire.

“She’s not here right now. You are.”

Shit. Shuffling to the door, I inhale and study myself in the mirror. I’m not dressed for work yet, so my body is covered. I’m rocking a pair of long sweat pants and a worn KOC T-shirt. It should make me feel safe from his piercing gaze, but I know it won’t. I open the door and find Fuse’s massive frame blocking my exit.

A smirk lines his thin lips. He should be attractive. His skin is a flawless olive tone that accentuates the masculine beauty of his angular face. Almond-shaped brown eyes, which are so dark they’re almost black, scan me from head to toe.

I feel dirty. It’s like he can see beneath my clothing. Determined not to show weakness, I straighten to my full height and return his stare. Fear is an emotion men like him will exploit. “What can I help you with, Fuse?”

“I think you know, Nev,” he drawls, and licks his lips.

My stomach rolls. Grinding my teeth I bite back the co

mments running through my head. “I wouldn’t ask you if I did,” I say, playing dumb.

“You got a smart mouth on you, always have.” He rubs his lips with his thumb.

“I am my father’s daughter.” I subtly remind him of his brother in arms. They don’t call my daddy Hulk for nothing. If I tell him his brother is coming on to me, words will be had. I’d prefer to avoid the entire situation.

“Maybe, but Daddy’s a long way from here now, isn’t he?”

The reminder of my father’s absence is a dagger to the gut. Since Mom disappeared, the old man hasn’t been around the club much. He’s been out and about for a straight year of visiting sister chapters and taking missions on the road. “I’m a lucky girl to have so many uncles then, aren’t I?”

“Is that what you think?” Fuse snorts. “Those old fucks are sniffing around you hoping to get a whiff of that tight, little pussy.”

I clench my jaw and bite my tongue, hard. The metallic tinge of blood fills my mouth.

“You keep your legs shut tighter than a vault, while you look down at us like we’re not good enough. The brothers indulge your bratty ass, but not me.” He shakes his head. “I think it’s time you start earning your keep.”

“I pay my money to the club, same as everyone.”

He shakes his head. “Not to them, to me.” He thumps his chest with a balled fist and steps forward.

Tags: Shyla Colt Kings of Chaos Erotic
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