Family Ties Read online

  Family Ties

  Ashby Crime Family Romance Book 5

  KB Winters

  BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  Copyright © 2021 by KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by KB Winters

  Chapter One

  Charlie

  “It’s no secret that I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  Did I just hear Superman say he was retiring? Superheroes didn’t retire. They went out with guns blazing. Right?

  The room broke out into rolls of laughter like Cross was the star act at a comedy club.

  Cross had been the head of the Reckless Bastards MC for longer than I’d been alive. Hell, he’d always been like a superhero to me, as much as my own dad.

  We waited for one of Stitch’s funny one-liners. We could always count on him to break up the tension “Time to roll out the silver carpet!” he howled and we all joined in. No moment in my life had ever been more gratifying or tense than this one.

  Cross flipped him off and held up his black mug of beer with a big grin on the grizzled face I loved like he was blood. “Like I said, I’m gettin’ too old for this shit. It’s time to pass the torch and give this kid the chance to take the Reckless Bastards to the next level.”

  Dozens of hands pounded on the impressively carved Mayhem table that sat as the main centerpiece inside the club’s inner sanctum. They raised their glasses to me. The kid Cross had just mentioned.

  “We got new threats coming in every fucking day.” Stitch again, as if anyone needed a reminder.

  “Fuck those fuckin’ Jacks!” My Uncle Tate made no secret of his hate for the newest gang of punks who thought they could come into town and take what our MC had spent decades building. Shit was bad lately, plenty of sabotage and kidnappings, public shootouts and even a few deaths, all because of the fucking BJ’s.

  The dark look Cross wore brightened as he turned his attention back to the reason we were all gathered here today. “We will fuck them, long and hard ‘cause we’re the biggest dicks around!”

  Max, my dad and MC treasurer shouted, “Being led by the biggest cock of them all!” He glowed with a proud smile because this time, right now, inside these walls, was where we could be more than badass bikers, more than tough sons of bitches who fought to the death. Here, we could also be family.

  “Damn straight,” Cross agreed. “And that’s why it is my absolute fucking pleasure to hand this patch over to the new Prez of the finest MC God and man has ever colluded to create. Charlie, get your ass up here.”

  I stood on shaky legs, knowing this moment was bigger than just me, but still feeling strangely sure it was entirely about me at the same time. Somehow, I stuffed my nerves down deep and made my way to the head of the table. My spot at the table. As of to-fucking-day.

  The roar my brothers made to welcome me to my new post was deafening. I couldn’t help but smile at the happiness, the pride that wove through us all. This wasn’t just about me, but for our club. It was a thread that would never be broken. Ever.

  Savior’s big blue eyes were wide, bright and proud when he calmed everyone down. “Let the new Prez speak!” he shouted. As the sergeant at arms, he had taught me everything I needed to know about guns and ammo. Savior was an old-timer, but the man knew his shit. His blue eyes looked even bluer with a head and beard full of gray against his skin, tanned as fuck from too much time spent in the desert.

  A chorus of, “We’re listening,” answered his call.

  I heard “Speak!” come from the middle of the crowd. That was easier said than done. I wasn’t a talkative fucker like Cross or my brother, Jameson, but I was the leader now. The lives of these men, every last one of them, were now my responsibility. My duty. They needed to hear that I was prepared to carry the same weight Cross had, as we moved forward and fought bigger, badder, and much bolder enemies.

  I cleared my throat and looked out at these men. My brothers. My soldiers. “Shit,” I said. The honor Cross just handed me hit me like a wrecking ball, and I was overcome with humility.

  “I don’t really know what to say except I’ve been around this MC since I was a baby. I learned what it means to be a man by watching the men at this table. Learned to shave, to fight, and even to fuck the pretty ladies good and hard from listening to you guys. The rest of you, we became men together. We’ve gone from boys who didn’t know a damn thing to men who know it means to fight for something bigger than us. To protect what the previous generation worked hard to build up.”

  “Too fucking right, Prez!” Jag let out a loud whistle and clapped until the whole damn room thundered with applause. “Give it up, guys.”

  I sent Jag a grateful look and raised my beer high in the air. “To the Reckless Bastards, Mayhem. Being the best. Fighting the rest. Protecting what’s ours. To Mayhem!”

  “Mayhem,” they all roared in unison. Even the Reckless Bastards from Texas had shown up for the changing of the guard. Most of them were in town to see Maisie get married next week, but when they found out about the vote for a new president, they all flew up early.

  “Now let’s fucking party!” someone said.

  Other than fighting and fucking, it was what we did best. The old ladies and the Reckless Bitches had cooked up a gang of food and there would be dozens of beers and other booze chilled and waiting for us.

  I said to anyone who was listening, “I need a real fucking drink.”

  I’d be lying if I said the weight of my new responsibility didn’t weigh heavy on my shoulders as well as my soul, but I was up for the challenge. More than up for it.

  Cross clapped me on the back as the last of the Reckless Bastards went in search of booze, bitches, and barbecue. “How does it feel?”

  I sighed and looked up at my mentor. “Surreal. Like a fucking dream come true. Heavy.”

  Cross let out a loud, booming laugh and took a step forward as he finished off his beer. “Good. That’s exactly how it should feel.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “Yep. It’s a heavy responsibility, but you know how to wear that kind of weight, man. You grew up around this shit.”

  “I did.” Every burned vehicle, every girl who was here one day and gone the next, it hadn’t made sense for a long time. And then one day, it all just clicked. “I’m ready.”

  “No doubt, brother. No fucking doubt. Now let’s get going before your dad and uncle drink all the damn whiskey.”

  “They can try, but I got a case of the good shit from Ashby to c
ongratulate me on becoming Prez.”

  “Hmmm.” Cross nodded, and I knew he had something on his mind. “What do you think of this connection with the Ashby clan?”

  “Don’t know,” I answered honestly. “So far they’ve been a good ally. Now that the Black Jacks are working with The Crusaders, I think we have a good reason to work together when necessary. What’s got you worried?”

  He pulled his mouth into a grim line and shook his head. “Sadie has a way of making enemies. And you know I never back down from a fight, but I don’t go out of my way to make enemies either. Being tied too closely to them could spell trouble for the MC. That’s why we haven’t done business with them lately. We did back in the day. Some gun running for the old man.”

  I nodded. It was one of the thoughts that weighed heaviest on my mind. “I’m cautious, and it’s not like I can pull back now, with Maisie’s wedding only a week away.”

  Cross shook his head in disbelief as we made our way to the back of the clubhouse where everyone who mattered had gathered to celebrate my new role. “Can’t believe Gunnar’s got a kid getting married. That shit is fucking surreal.”

  “You’ve got a kid working for the damn NSA. Old man.”

  Cross frowned and then laughed. “Hey Gunnar, this little shit just called us old. Can you believe that?”

  Gunnar scowled, still an intimidating looking fucker, even with skin craggy from the Texas sun and a head full of silver fuzz. “Not too old to kick your ass, little man.”

  We entered the large clubhouse that the women had turned into party central with streamers and balloons and long tables covered with all the food they knew we loved. Barbecue, barbecue, and then some more barbecue.

  The bar ran the length of one wall with tubs of ice chilled beer and rows of bottles of our favorite brands of hard liquor. Music started up as soon as we entered.

  I held my hands up with a laugh as Mom handed me a shot of whiskey. “It’s a good thing I only fight old men to protect the MC.”

  Gunnar barked out a laugh. “Congrats, Charlie. Or should I say Baby Face?” He laughed again when I groaned at the much-hated nickname. “One of these days you’ll get some hair on your chin. And your balls, kid.”

  I grabbed my junk and laughed. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

  In fact, most women appreciated my youthful look, especially women of a certain age, and I was happy to make them feel young again.

  “I wouldn’t complain at all.” Sherri was one of the oldest Reckless Bitches around and was hella thirsty to become someone’s old lady. “I like a smooth surface to lick up and down. To feel against my body.”

  Sherri’s age wasn’t the problem. She was an angry drunk, a loudmouth, and tossed the MC name around like she’d done something to earn it other than lay on her back.

  “Yeah, thanks Sherri.” I freed myself from her grasp and joined Jameson beside the grill. “Sup?”

  Jameson grinned and leaned in for a hug. “Congrats, bro. How does it feel to be king?”

  “Heavy is the head that wears the crown and all that shit. But it feels good.”

  “You worked hard and proved yourself. No one deserves it more.” There was genuine pride in my brother’s voice. It was written all over his face. “Now try not to get yourself killed.”

  I laughed. “Been doing that all my life.”

  “Don’t get killed and please, for the fucking love of God, don’t make Sherri your old lady.” We both turned to the woman in a skintight black dress and a face full of makeup and laughed.

  “No chance of that happening. Worst fuck ever.”

  “Right,” Jameson agreed with a gleam in his eyes. “Find yourself an old lady like Mom and you’ll be Prez until you’re ready to step down like Cross.”

  “Shit, man, I just got the job and now you’re trying to marry me off and fill my house with kids. What the fuck?” I was too young for that kind of responsibility. I had too much on my plate to worry about a chick beyond a few nights between the sheets. “The MC is my wife until further notice.”

  “Famous last words,” Gunnar said and gave my back a hard smack. “Thought the same thing when I got to Texas, determined to take care of Maisie and set up my vision for Reckless Bastards, Opey. Then Peaches showed up and turned my plans on their big fat ass.”

  “Not you too,” I groaned.

  “I’m just saying, this kind of shit happens when you least expect it. Hell, when you’re not at all prepared to deal with the mess of fallin’ for a woman. Damned inconvenient, that’s what love is.”

  His gaze found Peaches in the crowd, laughing with Aunt Vivi, and his body relaxed with the kind of peace I’d seen between Cross and Moon, and even my folks.

  “But so fuckin’ worth it. Might even make you a better Prez.”

  “Yeah, why is that?”

  “One more thing to fight for. To protect.” He laughed and took a long, thoughtful pull of his beer. “People will tell you that women and family make you weak. Hell, time was, I would’ve been the first to tell you that, just ask Cross. But the truth is, it’ll help make you better and smarter, more cunning. More willing to do what it takes to protect what’s yours before it’s too late.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him and went in search of more booze. Women and love were the last thing on my mind, but being a good leader meant I needed to hear all the advice offered and figure out which path worked best for me.

  I was no longer Charlie Ellison, son of Max and Jana, a member of the Reckless Bastards. I was now Charlie Ellison, President of the Reckless Bastards MC. It was a whole new world. Hell, it was now my world.

  And I’d protect the club, the members, the women and businesses with my life if necessary.

  Hell, even if it wasn’t.

  Chapter Two

  Savannah

  Peace. There were very few moments of peace in my life. I always tried to savor them because they never lasted long. Ever. For just one rare minute there was absolute silence. No sounds of people fucking or getting beat from the skanky motel rooms on either side of mine. No sirens or fights. No gunfire either.

  Nothing, just the sweet sound of nothing.

  The dirty, itchy bedspread was a far cry from the thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets I slept on just a mere six months ago. Then again, everything about this life was different.

  Instead of making important decisions for the family business, I was just a fucking whore. A commodity. A piece of property for a bunch of idiotic drug-addicted assholes to sell and resell dozens of times a day. Every fucking day.

  The Black Jacks might be morons and crackheads, but who was the dumb bitch who’d managed to get kidnapped by them and forced to fuck God knows who for money? Me. It was me, Savannah Rhymer, a name that meant fuck all to me anymore because being a Rhymer hadn’t saved me from this fate. Hadn’t even made me a proper bargaining chip for these assholes. None of that mattered, except how many cocks I could take in a day without damaging the goods.

  Fuck this life.

  Most days I laid on the scratchy bedding and wished for death. I might have prayed for death if I still believed in the power of prayer, but I’d been cured of that by the middle of month two and the fiftieth load of spunk I had to rinse out of my mouth. Now I just wished for death between fucks, between sleep and between doses of drugs, doled out like trophies for slaves who managed to please their masters. I kept the masters happy, not that I had a choice, by taking three and four dicks at once because Savannah Rhymer, heiress to the Rhymer empire was a gang-bang expert.

  Thanks to my masters.

  Fuck my masters. A bitter laugh escaped. How ironic. That was exactly what I did on a regular basis. Fucked them all. Sometimes out of fear, but mostly because it meant more drugs to numb the pain and erase memories I couldn’t forget on my own, no matter how hard I tried.

  The hotel room door burst open and in walked one of those masters. Roadkill was one of the younger members of the Black Jacks, but h
is patch identified him as the Vice President, which I didn’t give a fuck about. He was the master who provided the heroin that took away the pain. It always came at a price, but what the fuck difference did that make when I always had to pay it?

  “Savannah, baby,” he grinned down at me and grabbed his cock, telling me exactly why he was here. “How’s my favorite little whore tonight?”

  I didn’t bother responding to his barbs because Roadkill was an idiot. He was the quiet but deadly sort that was difficult to read but quick to anger, so I only focused on the small baggie dangling from his fingertips. I lunched for it hungrily, and he held it up higher.

  “You know what I want.” His blue eyes were glassy as fuck, a clear sign he was already high, and I should simply obey. Obey. I fucking hated that word, but it had become my one-word mantra over the months. Instead of bristling and using sharp wit, which only ended with getting a beating, I obeyed.

  “I know what you like,” I told him in that innocent girl voice that fucked-up guys like him loved for some reason. I slowly stripped out of the filthy rose-colored nightie I’d been wearing for the past three days because the assholes who paid for pussy in a filthy motel just off the interstate didn’t care about things like clean clothes or freshly washed hair. All they wanted was to bust a nut.

  So did Roadkill.

  His nostrils flared at the sight of my tits, and he reached out with his free hand to tweak my nipple. “You’ve got beautiful fuckin’ tits, bitch.” He leaned forward, grabbing harder than necessary as he sucked my nipple and moaned. He pulled back with a dark grin.