Bad Breed MC

By Amanda Heartley

From USA Today Bestselling author, Amanda Heartley...

 

Bad Breed. There's no other way to describe men like us.

 

Flynn
Violence has dogged me all my life.
An asshat father, a cruel foster home.
Seems I'm following the same path.
Only worse.

 

See, I lost someone once, and it hurt me badly.
Since then, drugs and street crime were all I knew.
But all that ended the day I got patched.

 

The Breed owned Hardale. It was our town.
Then we lost five brothers in a firefight with the Cobras.
Now, we're laying low in LA… or supposed to be.
Until a feisty waitress turns out to be trouble... for me, at least.
She's smart, beautiful, and not afraid to kick butt.

 

I'd never risk the lives of my brothers.
And anyway, our worlds are so different.
She serves up coffee and eggs. I kill people if I have to.
But that doesn't stop me wanting her in my bed, screaming my name.
And after we take back our town, I'm going to make her mine.
Or die trying

 

If you love dirty-talking, Harley-riding, gun-toting hotties, Bad Breed MC is a sizzling standalone bad boy, good girl biker romance that'll melt your heart.

 

• Approx. 241 pages

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheeky Books
• Release date: Feb 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386574392

Amanda Heartley

USA Today bestselling author, Amanda Heartley, writes heart-warming steamy romance, featuring strong, sexy bad boys and feisty, sensual women. Her stories take you on an emotional ride of enduring love and steamy sex that always end with a happy-ever-after, and her evocative characters will stay with you long after you've finished the book. You can join in the fun in Amanda's reader group to talk about love, life, books, and share a little man-candy here... https://facebook.com/groups/AmandaHeartley And to join her newsletter to be the first to hear about new releases and book fun... http://amandaheartley.com/newsletter

Book preview

Amanda Heartley

USA Today Bestselling Author

Copyright and Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 Cheeky Books

Copyright © 2018 Amanda Heartley

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Contents

Bad Breed MC

Copyright and Disclaimer

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Flynn

There’s a lot of rumors around what it is to be a member of a motorcycle ‘gang’ and most of it is complete bullshit. Fake news spouted at dinner parties by self-righteous know-it-alls from the suburbs who have no clue about our culture or the way we choose to live our lives.

We don’t even use the term ‘gang’ anyway. We belong to a club, and a very exclusive one at that. Gang or club, I guess it’s all the same. Whatever you choose to call it, when you sign up, you accept the fact you could end up dead, or with a bullet in your flesh if you’re lucky, fighting to defend it. Honor is a big thing when you belong. It’s probably the biggest.

I never made a conscious decision to join. Sometimes shit just happens, and it sure as hell happened to me. It seemed a natural transition from my life on the street after I ran away from the evil woman who ran the foster home, and in a strange way, it gave me direction and a reason to live again.

What do you think you’re doing, kid?

It all began with that one question on the day I pickpocketed the wrong guy on an L.A. street, Jacob Atwood. But I’d recently received the worst news possible, and the way I felt about myself back then, I didn’t care if he killed me. At least, my miserable existence would finally be over.

A broken home, beatings from an alcoholic father, drugs and street crime were all I’d known for the longest time before I was taken into care. Looking back now, I was on a self-destructive streak, and even since then, I’ve never really learned how not to be.

But Jake didn’t kill me that day. In fact, whether he knew it or not at the time, he saved me. He gave me a new life—one I didn’t exactly choose, but I have no regrets.

We are the Bad Breed MC, and no name was ever more appropriate.

There’s not one of us who isn’t bad to the bone.

Chapter One

Flynn

Jake rides in front of us now. We’d follow him right into the flames of Hell, and sometimes it feels like that. This was one of those times as we ride toward the City of Angels.

I still struggle to understand how everything went so wrong back there in what was our town, Hardale. It was a freaky chain of events—a snowball that rolled down the mountainside, turned into an avalanche and almost buried us all. Everyone’s feeling defeated and dejected as we follow Jake along the coastal California highway, and most of us silently disagree with our club president’s plan.

We’re just gonna lay low for a while. Regroup. Heal.

That’s what Jake had said. He hadn’t even put it up for discussion. He just went ahead and gave the order and I knew why he was doing it. After the fight with the Cobras, he doesn’t want to risk losing any more men. He wants to give us all a chance to lick our wounds, nurse our shattered pride, and start thinking clearly again before we go in for payback…and you can bet we will.

***

It was supposed to have been a simple affair. To meet with Ricky Johnston and his most-trusted to tell the Cobra’s to shove their offer of going in together on meth trafficking where the sun doesn’t shine.

We didn’t want that shit in our town. All we wanted to do was make it clear that the transportation network they’d chosen for their new cargo would have to go through some other place instead. We weren’t the fucking cartel, but they should just get the hell out of Hardale if that’s what they had planned.

But the Cobras weren’t willing to take no for an answer. As it turned out, they were the cartel, and we got ambushed.

I guess we should’ve known better. We’re not invincible, no matter how much we like to think we are, and we’d already been doing business with the Cobras for a long time. While rule Number One is to always expect a betrayal, we just didn’t see that one coming.

In the end, we lost five good men…and our town. Sure, we could’ve stuck it out. We could’ve stayed and fought to the very last man, but what would’ve been the point of that? I didn’t like putting Hardale in the rearview mirrors of my bike any more than the others did, but I understood Jake’s intention. We did need to regroup. We did need to heal. And then, we‘d get our town back.

***

The one thing I really don’t like about Jake’s plan is his choice of Los Angeles as our temporary base. He said it’s the best place since we’d blend in much easier than if we went to another town. Los Angeles is a violent city, I know that only too well from my childhood, and we’d just be another bunch of hot needles in a burning haystack.

I can’t say I agree, but I trust his judgment. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to like it, and I tell him so when we stop at a gas station halfway there, our bikes thirsty, and us even more so. He tells the guys to have a beer at the rundown bar while we stay outside to have a smoke and a private conversation.

I know you don’t like this, Jake says, before I even have a chance to open my mouth.

I turn to look at him. He flinches as he takes a drag from his cigarette, and I raise an eyebrow at him. Should you be smoking? You’ve got a couple of bruised ribs and a bullet wound in your side.

The bullet just scraped me, he replies.

I know but sucking on a cigarette probably isn’t a good idea.

He shoots me a look that tells me I should stop bugging him about it. Jake’s the kind of guy who’d take a bullet for the people he cares about. He’s done it for me before, and I for him. He’d taken this one the previous night when all hell had broken loose, and the youngest member of our club got gunned down. Jake had broken cover, grabbed the kid by his shoulders, and dragged him back out of the line of fire. A ricocheting bullet had grazed his left side.

Despite Jake’s bravery, it was too late to save young Matt—something for which the Cobras will undoubtedly pay for in time. He was already dead by the time Jake dragged him behind the crates we were using as cover. When the firefight was over, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from balling him out for risking his life to bring back the body of a dead man.

I don’t know why, but I always seem to be over-protective when it comes to Jake. He’s five years older than me and, ironically, he originally founded the club to keep the kids in his neighborhood off the streets and to respond to the violence that plagued his town at the time.

He succeeded, but you don’t run violence out of town without becoming violent yourself. Somewhere along the way, the lines between right and wrong had gotten blurry, but he’s still the best man I know. Jake is my best friend, and my brother. Seeing him reappear behind those crates covered in blood had really freaked me out.

So, he says, his rough voice bringing me out of my reverie for him. Aren’t you gonna say anything?

I take a deep drag from my cigarette and feign indifference.

About what?

He smirks and pushes his long hair back with one hand. You’re hating this, Flynn. I know you are.

I hold back a grimace and pause. I’m not thrilled, I admit, but I’m not going to question you.

You think I’m making a mistake? he asks.

There’s a hint of steel in his blue eyes that tells me he won’t be happy with me if I say yes, but that’s never stopped me from voicing my doubts before. I’ll never try to second guess Jake in front of the others, though. A president and vice-president should always be on the same page in front of the guys, or respect goes out the window.

No, I reply, and that much is true. We do need time to recuperate. If we’d stayed in Hardale, they would’ve finished the job and slaughtered us. We’re hurt bad, lost a lot of good men, and we’re so outnumbered now.

Then what’s the problem? he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

I can tell he senses there’s something about his idea that I’m not totally on board with. I need to pull my shit together, and fast. If Jake senses it, then no doubt the rest of club can too, and that would be bad news. I shrug, taking one final drag, then let the cigarette fall to the ground, stomping on it with the heel of my boot.

There’s no problem, man, I say, with as much confidence as I can muster.

Flynn.

I freeze. His voice is hard and commanding, and when I look at him, I’m met with an unwavering stare. It’s clear my president expects a straight answer to his question.

Fine. I sigh, frustrated with myself for being so transparent, for being so fucking weak that my bad memories still got to me after almost two decades. It’s not the plan, Jake. It’s the place.

He blinked. L.A.?

Yeah, I just wish it was somewhere else. Anywhere else, I say.

We can’t run to some small town. You know that. News travels fast in those places. We’d be found in no time.

Yeah, I do know that, but Los Angeles isn’t the only city in California where we can hole up for a while.

Maybe so, but it’s the closest one to Hardale. Sure, we could ride down to San Diego, but we need to stay around our patch.

It is the logical choice,