Thrill Seeker (Kings of Vengeance MC Book 5) Read online

  A past I had fled as fast as I could from because even though I loved Point with all of my heart, I couldn’t follow my dreams being married to him. I couldn’t ask him to run all over with me while I tried to find whatever path I was meant to be on.

  That wasn’t fair to him and the dreams he had.

  Though, I don’t think he ever really told me what his dreams were.

  Point and I happened suddenly. A few of my friends from the old station I worked at had dragged me to a Halloween party that was lame until Point walked in the door.

  The only reason he had even glanced my way had been because I was dressed up in an inflatable t-rex costume. He thought it was hilarious and, at first, believed I was a guy since he couldn’t see my face.

  His jaw dropped to the floor when I managed to pull the costume down and pasted a huge smile on my face. Once he got over the initial shock of me actually being a woman, things took off like a rocket between us, in life and bed.

  Six months later, he popped the question, and then we were married two weeks after that.

  Ugh. I knew it was crazy, but I really thought Point and I were in it for the long haul. Three job changes, a slight drinking problem, and a pregnancy scare later, and I knew Point and I weren’t going to make it work.

  Mostly because I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to get it with someone else to consider in every decision I made. I was young, dumb, and selfish.

  I didn’t know how to make him an actual full part of my life. The times I had to explain why I wanted something or why we needed to move felt wrong. I felt like a selfish brat who only thought about herself. Point never complained, though. Sure, he joked about having to pack up everything, but it was just that, a joke.

  The shock and disbelief in his eyes when I told him I was moving again but this time, he wasn’t coming with me, still haunted me. I broke his heart when I didn’t have to. Thank god I wasn’t there when he read the note I left him. I did it to make sure he understood we were over, but I knew it would cut him deep.

  We were great until we weren’t.

  I grabbed the edge of my comforter and rolled over ‘til I was wrapped up like a burrito.

  So, what did I do when I couldn’t figure out how to make Point and I work?

  Ran like a coward with no explanation other than a lame “I don’t love you anymore.”

  I sighed and tried to fight back the tears.

  One problem, though.

  Three years later, I still loved Point but had no idea how to love him and still chase my dreams.

  Hell, he probably hated my guts and was just being polite by not telling me to fuck off.

  I groaned and threw my arm over my eyes.

  Maybe it was time to run again.

  *

  Chapter Three

  Drink…

  Point

  Drink.

  Drink ‘til I can’t picture her face.

  Drink ‘til I can’t remember her name.

  Drink.

  *

  Chapter Four

  Pumpkins, potholes, and pussy…

  Deedra

  “Tell me again how you think any of this is true?”

  I grabbed the stack of papers I had laid out in front of Marty and shook my head. I had run through all of the details of the possible new drug ring, and then my mind had wandered to a certain biker as Marty looked over the papers. Point had been taking over my thoughts ever since Friday. “Uh, because my informant is telling me something big is happening.” At least that was what he was hinting at.

  Focus, Deedra. An ex suddenly popping up shouldn’t be throwing me off my game this much even if that ex wasn’t really my ex and was still my husband, legally.

  “And you want me to believe a crackhead on the street that you buy sandwiches for in exchange for information is actually a reliable source?”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s recovering and moving into a studio apartment next month.”

  “So, next month, you are going to have to find another guy on the wrong side of the law to buy sandwiches for?” Marty laughed.

  “You’re an insensitive ass, Marty,” I hissed.

  He shrugged and sat back in his chair. “I am, but that’s probably why I’m sitting where I am, and you’re buying sandwiches with the hopes you’ll get your next story.” He nodded to the board to the side. “Which you don’t need to do since we have a damn board with more than enough stories for you to cover.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not interested in fluff, Marty. That was the reason you hired me. I remember you saying you liked my tenacity and eagerness to get the story.” Pretty sure Marty just wanted someone with a little bit more gumption than Tim had. I fit that bill ten times over.

  “Yeah, I did,” Marty agreed. “Though I didn’t think you would be hitting the fucking streets sniffing out stories the police don’t even know about.”

  That never was my plan, either, but I couldn’t stand reporting on a story that everyone already knew about. Don’t get me wrong, I did handle fluff stories, but I was looking for a more hard-hitting one while I was doing those. I loved covering the story about Queenie because though it had a happy ending, the twist and turns it took to get there were fascinating. No one could have predicted that Bella and Jimmy Clark, the owners of King Donuts, not only killed their grandson’s mother but were also huge in the production and distribution of meth.

  Fucking crazy shit.

  Crazy shit I loved reporting about.

  And now it was going to be even more crazy because I had a hunch that someone was moving in to take over from the Clarks. As much as I wished the drug scene in Whitmore would disappear, I also wasn’t naïve. The drugs weren’t going anywhere and someone new was coming in to see to it.

  “I’m doing my job, Marty. The thing you pay me for.”

  Marty nodded to the papers in my hand. “You can’t run with what you have there, Deedra. I need something more concrete than hearsay. Facts. I need facts. What you have there is a damn wish and a prayer.”

  I was giving him facts. Just because they weren’t coming from the damn police didn’t mean that they weren’t true. “I get you something more…and I can report it?”

  He waved his hand at me. “Yeah, but I need you to grab a couple of stories from the board while you’re trying to scrounge up something from the gutter.”

  I rolled my eyes and stood. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if you have that same attitude in a few days.” I was going to get this story. I was going to be the first one to report on it because I was going to watch it happen.

  Marty pointed to the board. “Three. I need you to do three of those, and then I’ll have my week filled with stories.”

  I wrinkled my nose and marched over to the board. Fluff and more fluff. I grabbed the first three stories in my reach. No matter what they were, I knew I could handle them. “I’ll have them for you by tomorrow.”

  Normally, the other reporters took two or three days to do one story. I wasn’t going to take that long to do these. The sooner I got them completed, the sooner I could get back to reporting on news that really mattered.

  “Not the ones I thought you would pick, but whatever,” Marty chuckled.

  I looked down at the crumbled pieces of paper in my hand. “What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. As if there were any stories on that board that were better than others.

  Marty chuckled. “Hank Denise’s giant pumpkin, potholes on Main Street, and the overcrowding of the new cat shelter.”

  I dropped my chin to my chest and sighed.

  Pumpkins, potholes, and pussy.

  Shoot me now.

  *

  Chapter Five

  Save the kitties…

  Point

  “Take two.”

  I growled and held out my hand.

  Kimber shook the pills into my palm and frowned. “A three-day bender makes for a four-day hangover, huh?” she smirked.

  I popped the pills in
to my mouth and chased them with my beer.

  She frowned. “The nurse side of me thinks you should maybe try to drink some water.”

  The pills washed down my throat, and I slammed the empty beer can on the counter. “I’ll keep that in mind, doc.”

  She screwed back on the lid to the bottle. “Or maybe you could actually stop to talk about why you’re trying to kill your liver. That might be helpful, and you won’t need a kidney transplant.”

  “A few days of drinking isn’t going to kill my kidneys.” If anything it would be the two years prior to me joining the Kings of Vengeance that would kill my kidneys. I basically ate my cereal with beer instead of milk. I shrugged and ran my fingers through my hair. “Besides, I have two of them. What are the odds that they’ll both shit out on me at the same time?”

  I was no doctor or nurse like Kimber, but I had to think that my odds were pretty good.

  “You’re an idiot,” Kimber laughed. “People like you are the reason why Fancy and I will always have a job.”

  I crushed the empty beer can in my hand. “Just doing my part.”

  “Oh, my God!” Petra shouted from the table by the kitchen. “We need to go!”

  “Do I even want to know?” Rhino drawled.

  Petra flipped her phone around and shoved it in Rhino’s face. “We have to save the kitties!”

  “Does she mean actual kitties, or is that code for down below kitties?” I whispered.

  Kimber curled her lip and scowled. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Do you really think women walk around calling their vaginas kitties?”

  “I like to refer to mine as my she shed.” Fancy smirked. She reached around Kimber to grab a glass. “Dyno likes to park his lawnmower in there.”

  Kimber rolled her eyes. “This is why Point thinks we call our vaginas kitties because you just called Dyno’s dick a lawnmower.” Kimber pointed her finger at Fancy. “Which, by the way, is wrong on so many levels.”

  “Cats!” Petra hollered. “We need to go save the kitty cats.”

  “That could sti—” I snapped my mouth shut.

  Kimber turned her finger on me. “She is in no way talking about her vagina right now.” Kimber closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s like you have never met Petra before. You really think she’s going to sit around talking about her vagina or saying we need to go save a bunch of vaginas?” she asked me.

  I shrugged. “I mean, you’ve said vagina about ten times in twenty seconds. I don’t really put anything past you gaggle of girls.”

  Petra stood and held her phone in her hand. “My favorite cat rescue is overcrowded, and they are doing a huge drive to get people to either foster or adopt. I’m going.” She pointed and swung her arm around the room. “We’re all going.”

  “You are not getting another cat, Pet,” Rhino grumbled.

  Petra waved off Rhino. “Whatever you say.”

  “I think you just got brushed off, brother,” Zephyr laughed.

  Rhino reached for Petra’s hand, but she sidestepped away from him. “I’m going to the shelter, Rhino. I need to save a kitty.”

  “Where the hell are you going to put another cat?” he demanded.

  Petra sprawled out her arms. “Um, well, this clubhouse is pretty damn huge, and it could use some kitties roaming around.”

  “She said kitties,” Kimber laughed. “As in more than one.”

  Quinn stepped into the clubhouse and closed the door behind him. “What’s gonna roam around the clubhouse?” he drawled.

  “Pussy,” I blurted. “Petra is going to save the pussies and bring them back here to live.” I might have been slightly buzzed. Just a little.

  “Uh, come again?” Quinn questioned.

  “Oh, my God,” Kimber sputtered. “You’re an idiot,” she hissed at me.

  I moved to the fridge to grab another beer, pulled one out, but froze before I popped the top.

  Quinn stared at me and shook his head. “You’re done. Put the can down and figure your shit out. Stop trying to drown it with beer and whisky.”

  I growled and curled my lip. “Last I checked, I was a grown man who made his own decisions.”

  Quinn pointed to the front door. “Step out that door, and you can make your own decisions. Stay here, and the Kings are in your business. Front and center.”

  “I can have a fucking beer.” One beer wouldn’t hurt anything.

  “You mean your hundredth beer in three days?” Core called.

  I flipped off Core. Fucking traitor.

  “I’m going to the cat shelter,” Petra interrupted. “Who is coming with?” She grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and pulled it on.

  “I’m in!” Kimber called. “I’m up for squishing the cute kitties.” She rubbed her hands together.

  “Shit, I might as well go, too,” Fancy muttered. “Dyno is messing with his bike and isn’t giving me any attention.”

  “As if you’re deprived,” Kimber laughed.

  “Where is Queenie?” Petra asked. “Maybe Gunner will want to come?”

  Kimber laughed. “Queenie will probably give us Gunner so she can grab an uninterrupted nap for an hour.”

  “I am not going to the damn cat shelter with four chicks by myself,” Rhino protested.

  Quinn pointed his finger at me. “You’re going with. Problem solved.”

  “What?” I grunted. “I had two beers for breakfast. Sorry, I can’t drive.”

  Quinn smirked. “No problem.” He reached in his pocket and tossed a set of keys to Rhino. “This is the perfect time for the new van’s first outing.”

  “No,” Kimber whined. “You are not going to make us go around in that thing. People are going to think we’re driving around trying to lure little kids to the van. It’s a kidnapper van, Quinn. I can’t believe you wasted your money on it.”

  Quinn shook his head. “You can blame that purchase on Dyno.”

  Fancy scoffed. “Oh, please. As if you weren’t agreeing with him that it was a good purchase, so we didn’t have to drive two cars when we go out. You two overlooked the fact that it looks like a creeper van.”

  Rhino glared at the keys in his hand. “How did I go from riding a Harley to this? Shit is worse than a mini-van, Quinn.”

  “It’s gonna look like you’ve got a harem of hot chicks,” Core called. “You’ll be the coolest guy at the cat shelter.”

  I pointed at Core. “You had him until you said cat shelter. You reminded him he’s doing bullshit.” Add cat shelter to anything and it became lame.

  “Get the hell out of here,” Quinn grunted. “Keep an eye on the girls, and don’t bring back any cats.”

  Rhino saluted Quinn. “I can tell you with all honesty I will not be able to keep that promise at all.”

  Kimber ran down the hallway and was back in seconds with Queenie trailing behind her. “Queenie is in.”

  “Uh, aren’t you missing a little boy?” Fancy asked.

  Queenie gathered her hair in her hands and piled it on top of her head. “Gunner is passed out in the crib. Sledge said he’d keep an eye on him.”

  Fancy bumped her fist with Queenie. “Sweet. Girls outing.”

  “Book Club outing,” Petra corrected her.

  “When did going to the cat shelter become part of Book Club?” Kimber asked.

  “When it became a reason for us to get out of the clubhouse,” Fancy laughed. “Let's ride, ladies. I say we stop at the bar and pregame.”

  “Pregame?” Petra asked. “You do know we are actually going to a real cat shelter, right?”

  Fancy slung her arm around Petra’s shoulders. “Oh, grasshopper. I have many things to teach you. Anytime we get out of the clubhouse as a group, it’s a reason to pregame at the bar. Shots before petting the cute kitties is exactly what the doctor ordered.”

  All the girls walked out of the clubhouse, trying to explain to Petra why it was always a good time to have a drink, no matter the time.

  “I don’t want to go,” I
grunted.

  Quinn laughed. “Tough shit, brother. Go spend the day doing something other than drinking. Try to get your mind off of whatever demons you got haunting you right now.”

  I pulled out my cigarettes from my pocket. “I don’t have any demons.” None I was going to fucking talk about.

  Dyno laughed. “Yeah, right. Nothing is going on with you. You always drank so much you blacked out every damn night.”

  A year ago that was more than true. “So, it’s a fucking crime to let loose?” I pointed to the open door. “Pretty sure all of your women are loading up in the van to go drink.”

  Rhino tossed up the keys in the air and caught them. “Yeah, but the thing of it is, none of them are trying to drink away memories.”

  “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.” For the past four days, the guys had asked me at least twenty times what was wrong and if I wanted to actually talk about it. That just made me drink even more.

  Fuck no.

  I did not want to talk about it with anyone.

  It was in the past, and I was getting over it.

  For a while, I had been okay with the way things had ended with Deedra. I was just working my way through a slight hiccup, remembering the way things had been. Nothing a few more beers, and maybe a warm, welcoming body in my bed wouldn’t fix.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, then your ass is going to the fucking cat shelter.” Quinn shrugged.

  “Fucking bullshit,” I muttered.

  I followed Rhino out the front door and over to the large Chevy van. This fucking thing could fit eleven people in it, and once I got in the passenger seat, that was exactly what it sounded like with the four girls in the back talking and cackling.

  With a sigh, I rested my foot on the dash and leaned my head against the headrest. “Love being part of an MC and just babysitting,” I grumbled.

  Rhino laughed and backed up the van. “Hey, better than anything I was doing before I got the call from Quinn. Look on the brightside, brother. In about half an hour, you are going to be surrounded by cages upon cages of pussy.”