Biker Stepbrother

BIKER

STEPBROTHER

ROSSI ST. JAMES

COPYRIGHT 2015 ROSSI ST. JAMES

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

DEDICATION

To my college writing professor, Mr. Billman. Thanks for believing in me.

OTHER BOOKS BY ROSSI ST. JAMES

Biker Stepbrother #
2 (Late January 2015!)

DESCRIPTION

For ten years, Eve Chadwick has buried the part of her that died the day her mother left MC president Big Nash Daughtry. Ripped from the only family she’d ever known and thrusted into a life of privilege, her future is already mapped out by those who hold the purse strings and Eve wants nothing more than to run away from it all.

As the years passed, she never once forgot about the part of her life spent as Gray Daughtry’s kid sister. She was loved then. Sheltered from the shit storms. Protected from the ugliest parts of life.

But a chance encounter brings them together again as adults, and Eve wastes no time running into the arms of her one-time brother, seeking refuge from the chaos and bullshit plaguing her life. But Gray Daughtry’s gone dark in the years that passed. He’s gotten mixed up in some bad business, and Eve must decide if she should play it safe or risk it all for the man who once saved her life.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Part 1 in a new serial. Not a stand alone. Part 2 releasing late January 2015.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE – Everly

ONE – Gray

TWO - Everly

THREE - Gray

FOUR - Everly

FIVE - Gray

SIX - Everly

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

THANK YOU

PAST

“Shh…”

I peeled my eyes open. A shadowy figure lurked over my bed, arms outstretched and pulling me out from under the warmth of my covers.

“Mom?” I whispered.

“Hush.” As the figure pulled me closer, I recognized my mother’s scent: cigarette smoke, Charlie perfume, and the permanent cheap beer smell that was always on her breath. “Be
quiet
, Everly.”

The moon shined in through the paper-thin curtains of the tiny trailer bedroom I shared with my two stepbrothers, Gray and Little Nash. Space was at a premium in the vintage blue singlewide the five of us shared, but home was home. It didn’t bother me as much as it bothered Gray, but he was older. He knew we deserved better.

“Where are we going?” I whispered as my mom set me down. At twelve years old I was too heavy for her to carry me very far. I glanced back at my brothers, the only siblings I’d known for the bulk of my existence. Little Nash was ten and Gray was fifteen.

My hand reached out in the dark as I followed my mom out of my room, and it stopped as it found the splintered hole in the door where the knob used to reside. Big Nash had kicked the door in the night before in a drunken rage. Gray moved the dresser to block the door to protect Little Nash and me, but it only served to make Big Nash even angrier. Little Nash and I hid in the closet, behind the broken door that was barely hanging on its hinges, and when it was all over, we emerged to find Gray perched on the foot of my bed, catching his breath and holding a shaking hand over his purple, swollen eye as blood trickled from his left nostril.

He always took the beatings for us.

I planted my feet in the hallway, demanding an answer from my mother as my heart raced with the jolt of adrenaline still coursing through me from being woken in the middle of the night. “Where’re we going?”

I glanced back toward the bedroom where my brothers were quietly sleeping, none the wiser.

“I want to say goodbye,” I said, crossing my arms. Mom grabbed the crook of my elbow and yanked my arms apart, jerking me so hard my arm nearly came out of the socket.

My eyes struggled to adjust to the dark of the window-less hallway. Mom lowered her face to mine and gritted her teeth. “We’re leaving. Do
not
make a sound.”

The bone-chilling look she gave me was the kind I knew I’d never forget as long as I lived. I knew she and Big Nash were having problems, but it was nothing new. They fought like cats and dogs since the day they met. The constant screaming and yelling in our trailer was normal. It was the way we lived. Big Nash was a drunk with a temper, and when he was done beating on her, he’d always come looking for Gray.

Though Gray was just a kid of fifteen, he was already taller than his daddy. He was going to be a behemoth someday, and I just hoped one day he’d get to clock Big Nash so hard it’d send him sailing across the room. Maybe then Big Nash would never touch him again.

My mother’s long nails dug into the flesh of my arm as she led me towards the creaky screen door. Two packed bags rested against the wall. She hoisted one over her bony shoulder and shoved the other into my arms.

I turned around, scanning the dark living room and trying to take a mental snapshot. We weren’t coming back, that much I knew. I inhaled the scent of the place I’d called home since I was seven years old. Stale cigarettes. Cheap, cinnamon candle. Dirty carpet.

Snoring in the broken armchair in the corner was Big Nash, passed out drunk. I glanced back at my mother who studied him for a second, as if she were wondering just how passed out he was. He’d been known to come flying out of a dead sleep and start wailing on whoever was in his vicinity before. Mom called them his night terrors. They always seemed to happen the most when he was drinking Jack Daniels. She took a deep breath and opened the screen door with a painfully slow-motioned push, and then she nodded towards our old Buick that was sitting at the end of the driveway.

Orange glow peeked over the horizon and mixed with lavender clouds. I’d never seen such a pretty sky before. I turned to look at our little blue trailer with the leaky tin roof one last time, my eyes landing on the window to the bedroom I shared with the boys who were my stepbrothers, my
family
, for as long as I could remember.

“Everly! Get in the car!” my mother yelled, though her voice was still very much a whisper.

I threw my backpack over the back of the seat and shut the door. She popped the shifter into neutral and pushed the rusting Buick to the end of the street. She was a skinny little thing, but no one ever accused Tammy-Dawn Conners of being weak.

Only slightly breathless, she climbed in and started the car up. The muffler popped, startling us both, and my mother’s hands flew to her chest like she was about to have a heart attack. Her eyes darted to the rearview, as if she were making sure Big Nash wasn’t coming after us.

I stayed quiet, taking everything in. The night before, Gray had tucked me in with a promise that he’d take me to the municipal pool on Saturday. Had I known it would be the last time we’d be around each other, I’d have done something special for him. He was always thinking of us, and it occurred to me in that moment, as we drove far away from Bolton, Nevada, that no one ever thought about Gray.

My breath caught in my chest, and I stifled the sobs that tried to force their way past my lips as I mourned the loss of my big brother. My protector. My angel. The only person who ever truly looked out for me.

“Everly, stop crying,” my mom huffed as her bony hands gripped the wheel. “We Conners girls are tough. We don’t cry. We do what we have to do and we get the fuck over it.”

“I-I just wanted to say goodbye to my brothers,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand.

She scrunched her face. “They weren’t even really your brothers.”

I faced the window to my right, unable to look at her as if that was supposed to make me feel better.

“I was never married to Big Nash, you know that,” she said. She pulled down the visor as she drove, checking out the remnants of a shiner on her left eye. Big Nash had socked her in the face the week before, and Mom was a very vain woman considering her lifestyle. She was what I’d heard the other kids at school refer to as “white trash pretty”. Her full lips and perfectly straight teeth paired with her round, aqua-colored eyes were a stark contrast against her tanned, leathered skin and thinning blonde hair. She’d aged considerably over the past few years as she rode on the back of Big Nash Daughtry’s bike in the scorching Nevada sun. She looked much older than her thirty years. “I shoulda known better than to get involved with those biker gangs.”

She popped the visor back and held her shoulders high as her eyes focused on the road. We turned towards the highway that led out of town.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m driving west. We’ll stop when it feels right.”

That was exactly how we ended up in Bolton, Nevada. Mom said it just “felt right”, though I suspect it had to do with the green-eyed Casanova hitting on her at the bar she snuck off to the night I was fast asleep in the motel she’d rented.

That green-eyed Casanova happened to be Big Nash Daughtry, and it didn’t take long for him to sink his meat hooks right into her lonely, desperate, single-mom heart.

“Just sleep, Everly. Stop asking so many questions. You’re making my head hurt,” Mom said, her voice rushed and sharp as if she couldn’t keep her thoughts straight. “We’ll stop for breakfast in a couple hours once we get to the California state line.”

PRESENT

“Ain’t shit in the house for breakfast.” I slammed the refrigerator door. “Nash!”

My stomach rumbled, and I shook my head. He was probably still passed out in bed. Three words summed up the only things Nash Daughtry loved in this world: booze, bikes, and broads. And at twenty-one, all three of those things were readily available to him any time he liked.

I strutted down the hall of the apartment we shared for the past seven years. The day I turned eighteen I got us out of that hellhole trailer Big Nash had us living in and moved us to a neighborhood in Bolton with good schools. For the first time in our young lives, we knew what it was like to have hot water, ice cold air conditioning, and a kitchen free of roaches and other critters. It was nothing fancy by most people’s standards, but the day we moved in I’d never seen my kid brother smile so big.

Big Nash didn’t give two shits either, that was the sad part. He’d helped us move, seemingly glad to be rid of the two burdens he’d been saddled with the day our mother died of a heroin overdose.

Apparently to our father, eighteen was a perfectly acceptable time to spread your wings and fly away, even if a guy was still in high school. And he didn’t care that I took my brother with me, though I suspect he was well aware Little Nash was better off with me anyway.

I knocked on his bedroom door and let myself in, half expecting to see some buck naked girl twined up in a mess of musty bed sheets.

His bed was empty.

I checked my watch. Nine o’clock. Nash never slept anywhere but his own bed. He’d been that way his whole life. He was very particular about where he stayed, and he’d been known to ditch sleepovers as a kid and walk home in the dead of night just to stay in his own bed.

“Gray!” his voice yelled from down the hall as the door to our place opened and slammed so hard it rattled the walls.

“You stayed out last night,” I said with an entertained smirk as I strutted to the living room. “Who was the lucky lady?”

My face fell when I saw that Nash didn’t have the confident swagger of a man who’d been balls deep in tight pussy all night. His ashen face was bathed in trepidation. He held a hand out, as if to stop me from coming closer.

“Look at me, Gray,” he said, his voice nearly shaking. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

“Always do.”

Nash lowered his hand, resting it on his hip and hanging his head to the ground as if to gather his thoughts. He raised his head, our matching green eyes locking. “Where were you last night?”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” I asked with a laugh.

Nash raised his eyebrows.

“I was home,” I said. “Came home after the chapter meeting. Ordered a pizza. Drank some beer. Passed out.”

It was just a typical Tuesday night for me. I lived a simple existence on purpose. My tumultuous, unpredictable childhood morphed me into a man who lived for the comfort and familiarity of his routines. And going out every night got old about the time I turned twenty-two anyway. A man could only get liquored up and fucked six ways to Sunday so many times before it lost its luster.

“Can anyone attest to that?” Nash asked, brows still raised.

“Shit, Nash, now you’ve got me all worried,” I said, raking a hair through my dark hair. “Stop pussy footin’ around and tell me what the fuck you’re asking me about. We’re not speaking the same language right now.”

“Big Nash is dead,” Nash blurted. “Rumor is you killed him.”

Nash’s words were a blow to the head and a shot to the heart all at the same time. I shook my head. “Never liked the guy, but I’m not the killin’ type. You know that.”

My lack of sadness told me what I already knew. His death meant nothing to me, but it meant something to the group of fifty men he presided over. Big Nash Daughtry was the president of the Hell Valley MC which consisted of fifty loyal, ruthless rebels-without-a-cause who would bash in the skulls of anyone who dared touch a hair on the head of their fearless leader.

“Why would anyone think I did that?” I scratched my head. “That don’t make sense, Nash.”

“After the meeting last night, everyone went out but you.” Nash looked down at the ground. “Someone found Big Nash shot in the back of the head in his bed this morning. No one can account for your whereabouts last night.”

“Just because I didn’t go out last night don’t mean I killed the bastard.” I sighed. My stomach twisted in knots as I realized I had no control over something that was about to turn my entire world upside down. I broke out into a cold sweat, the kind that used to consume me when I’d hear Big Nash beating on Tammy-Dawn and I knew I was next.

“Yeah, but everyone knows you hated the man,” Nash said. “And since you’re the VP.  You’re next in line. That gives you two motives.”

I never wanted that life. I loved bikes, but I never wanted to be in the gang. The eve of my nineteenth birthday, Big Nash took me out to his bar, The Big Steer, bought me drinks, got me hammered, then told me I was joining the club. That it wasn’t an option. When I protested, he tried to kick my ass for the first time in a year, but I’d grown stronger. I had several inches and thirty pounds of pure muscle on him by then, and for the first time in my life we were ill-matched in my favor. I beat the ever-living shit out of him, even in my drunken state, and he never laid a hand on me again after that.

Later that night Big Nash broke down in front of me for the first time in his forty-odd years. He apologized for raising us the only way he knew how. He talked about our mother, Laura, for the first time and about how beautiful she was and how much he missed her. Said she was the only woman he ever truly loved. Her death broke him, he said. Her death turned him into the monster he was, forcing him to live a life with ice water in his veins. He didn’t want to feel the pain that coursed through him like an incurable disease, so he drank until his feelings went numb and inflicted his pain on others instead.

It was that night, standing in the gravel parking lot of his bar, that I saw my father for who he really was: a pathetic, miserable asshole. And it was that night, that I realized he was only human, and he was incapable of ever being the kind of father we needed. Seeing Big Nash cry didn’t erase the decades of lousy parenting and abuse he’d inflicted on us, but when he begged me to join his club, I accepted with reluctance because he’d just poured his heart out to me. I felt sorry for him. That and I wanted him to love me for the first time in his life.

I never saw that side of Big Nash again, and I regretted joining the club every single day after that, vowing to get out the first chance I got. No amount of heart-to-hearts would ever change him from a monster into a man.

“Who’s side are you on?” my voice boomed. I crossed my arms and widened my stance.

“Yours,” Nash insisted. He stuck his hands up in the air. “I’m just telling you what people are saying as of this morning. And I’m here to tell you to get the fuck out of town, Gray. They’re going to come for you. It’s only a matter of time. They think you did it.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I know.”

“Fuck, man.”

“Gray, go. You have to go.”

“What about you? They’re going to know you tipped me off.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Nash said. I stared into the eyes of a grown man who was now perfectly capable of defending himself. Sometime around his sophomore year of high school, he’d hit a growth spurt and no longer needed my defense. He damn near towered over me, though I liked to remind him I was still the bigger Daughtry. Nash clenched his jaw, remaining strong. “Go on now.”

I threw some clothes in a bag and grabbed the keys to my cycle. Nash stood by the living room window, peering out from behind the curtains to make sure the coast was still clear. We weren’t the touchy feely types, so a simple head nod served as a goodbye. Within minutes, I was riding towards the only highway that led out of town. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I was headed west.