Kellen's Redemption (Hell Raiders MC) Read online

  Kellen's Redemption

  By

  Aden Lowe

  A Hell Raiders MC

  Romance

  ©2015 by Aden Lowe. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Aden Lowe or his legal representative.

  Thank you for purchasing an authorized copy of this book. By doing so, you say NO to Piracy and support authors so they can continue to bring you the books you enjoy.

  Author's Note: This book contains adult situations and language, violence, and sexual activity. Mature readers only.

  Acknowledgements:

  A lot of people made this book possible. First, my wife, Elyse. Thank you for your continued support and encouragement, and your faith in my abilities. Mom, thanks for the occasional smack to the head to knock some sense into me. Ashley Wheels, my Assistant/baby sister…what can I say except thank you for being you. You put up with my weirdness, keep me focused and on track even when it means ten-minute check-ins for hours on end, and you constantly encourage me to do my best. You handle all the frustrating details, put my marketing plans in place, and contribute ideas and suggestions daily. Thank you. Team, remember?

  Aden Lowe's Huntresses are the BEST Street Team on Facebook or anywhere else. Thank you ladies for your enthusiastic support. I'm still amazed that you're willing to spend some of your precious down-time helping me. You kick ass.

  The Lowe-Down – the Official Aden Lowe Fan Group… Thank you ladies. I rely on you for laughs, opinions, and help promoting my books. You constantly excel in all categories.

  I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Kellen's Redemption. This book is one of those rare ones that just happened. After you read it, I hope you'll take a moment to leave an honest review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  If you enjoyed Kellen's Redemption, you might also like my Hunted Love series:

  Big Game: Hunted Love #1- http://amzn.com/B00NMVS01K

  Bounty : Hunted Love #2- http://amzn.com/B00RGT2NSK

  Captured: Hunted Love #3 - http://amzn.com/B00V9QJZWS

  Chapter One - Two Weeks Ago

  Kellen came awake fast and pushed away the sweaty sheets. Fucking smokes were too far away. He sat up with a groan, squinting against the monster head-ache eating his brain. Finally got the cigarette free of the pack, in his mouth and lit. The JD Black bottle beside the bed still held half a mouthful, and he snatched it up in relief, swallowed, then wished for more. Considered falling back into bed and sleeping the rest of the day away. No, he had business to handle.

  Not bothering to cover up the morning wood, he stumbled out of the room and into the dark hallway and four doors down to where the bathroom stood open. A healthy piss later, he turned the shower on and stepped under the scalding spray. The filth from the last twenty-four hours took some convincing, but finally gave up and went down the drain. Road dirt was the easy part. The stains on his conscience for the part he'd played in that debacle out west would take a while to fade. He scrubbed harder. He'd done far worse, so why did he give a damn?

  Feeling somewhat human, he halfway toweled off and went back to his room long enough to pull on his jeans and boots. Back out in the hall, something almost smelled good. One of the old ladies must be up and about, feeling domestic. He followed his nose to the kitchen out of sheer curiosity.

  In the big kitchen, Tanya, Trip's old lady, stood over the stove. She glanced over her shoulder, cautious as always, then relaxed visibly when she realized it was Kellen. "Have a seat. It'll be ready in a couple minutes."

  Kellen followed orders and dropped into the chair at the head of the big dining table. "Why you cooking?" Some of the old ladies liked to cook when they were at the house, but usually in the mornings someone just made coffee and breakfast was whatever you could find.

  Movements guarded, she lifted one shoulder. "Figured you guys might want to start the day on a full belly." A survivor of slavery in another MC, Tanya was careful about everything she did or said. She'd only just become slightly comfortable with Kellen, and only because he didn't bother to take enough notice of her to be intimidating.

  He grunted. "Thanks. Smells good." Hmph. Good thing none of the boys heard that. They'd think he'd gone soft. The President of an outlaw motorcycle club did not thank another guy's old lady for anything.

  Tanya ignored the slip and went on with what she was doing, leaving Kellen to his thoughts. Eventually, she reached for plates and dished up what she'd cooked. "Here you go." She deposited a plate in front of Kellen, and turned to pour coffee, placing it beside him.

  Keeping himself in check, Kellen nodded his thanks, and dug in. Burritos filled with scrambled eggs, sausage and peppers, smothered in a cheese sauce. "This is good." Back inside his head, he ate methodically, preoccupied with the upcoming day. He had to take care of some business.

  Hack, his VP, shuffled in, fully dressed and looking like hell had eaten him for breakfast and puked him back up. Old boy was partying too hard lately, and it showed. He dropped into a chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. Tanya, smart girl that she was, slid a plate and coffee in front of him before he could look up. The bastard had a rep for being rough on women. Hell, even his name said it. In the middle of a party at the clubhouse, a girl had been going down on him and he'd shoved his dick so far in her throat she started coughing and hacking. Frustrated that he couldn't finish, he'd backhanded her off him and stomped out. From then on, he was known as Hack.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

  Rather than answer, Hack shoved his plate aside and pulled a cellophane packet from his jeans. He'd used the outer wrapper from a cigarette pack and sealed a pill inside by melting the end with a lighter. With the obsessive care of a long-time addict, he laid out his pill, lighter, card and straw, pulled a new cellophane off his cigarettes to cover his pill before crushing it down. More careful ritual as he cut and snorted his first line. "You want to bump it?"

  Kellen shook his head. "Lay off that shit, man. I need you clear headed." For the millionth time, he wished the club had chosen a different VP, someone who didn't constantly chase the next pill. Hack was a good, solid Brother, but he wasn't VP material.

  "You need me able to fucking move." He hit the rest of the pill and put his shit away, making sure to get every last particle of residue off the table. With his day properly started, he grabbed the plate and started eating. "What we got on today?"

  "We roll over to that deal later. Nobody but us for this one." Kellen settled back with his coffee.

  Hack eyed him, expression cautious. "You sure that's a good idea, boss?"

  The empty coffee cup hit the table with a thump as Kellen stood. "Yeah, I am." Understatement. Hack questioning his decision mattered a hell of a lot more. He'd let it slide one time, but the shit couldn't continue.

  He headed back to the bathroom and his razor. He looked, and felt, much more human after he'd shaved and trimmed his beard. With his ink, gauged earlobes, and the way he dressed, no one would ever mistake him for a good boy. But they sure as fuck couldn't call him a filthy biker either. Satisfied, he pulled on a t-shirt and his cut, ready to head out.

  Back in the kitchen, he came to an impatient halt. "You ready, man? We got shit to tend to."

  Hack was just finishing his coffee. "Yeah, yeah." He shoved his chair back and stood, acting stiff and sore as hell. Probably spent the night fighting or fucking. Dude was getting too old for that shit. Boots thumped on the floor as Hack followed, deliberately making his displeasure known.

  Kellen would deal with that shit privately. Outside, the bikes were placed strateg
ically, closest to their owners' most convenient exit from the clubhouse. His own sat outside the window to his room where he could just dive out of bed and hit the leather. The big stretched out chopper started with its usual purr, giving him the thrill of satisfaction. His design, built with his hands. Nothing like it.

  Hack rolled up on his '77 Harley Low Rider and gave Kellen a ready nod, so he hit the throttle and headed down the lane. Normally he'd have a couple more guys on a run like this one, but this was a new connection and he needed it kept quiet. So it was just him and Hack, which left him feeling unusually vulnerable.

  Nearly an hour on the road and they crossed the River into Ohio. Kellen led them through the run-down residential area of the little town, weaving through the rabbit-warren of alleys and side-streets. Finally, he pulled into a narrow driveway beside a beat-to-death 80-something Lincoln Continental and slipped his bike past it and around to the back of the half boarded-up house.

  He parked by the back porch and dismounted and pulled his helmet off as Hack stopped beside him. "Wait here. If it goes sideways, book it out of here."

  "Yeah, boss." Hack slid the cut-down twelve gauge out of his jacket and pulled the hammer back, ready for trouble.

  Fuck, Kellen hated this kind of shit. The hair stood on the back of his neck as he stepped up onto the creaky old porch. If his middle-man hadn't insisted on the meeting place and vouched for the seller, he wouldn't have considered it. Through the busted down door and a quick step to the side to avoid being silhouetted, everything stayed silent. Kellen strode through the gutted kitchen, his swagger betraying none of his discomfort.

  The living room showed no sign of the destruction apparent through the rest of the house. It had been painted, and set up with a couch, a couple of chairs, and a big screen TV, complete with a gaming system.

  His guy sat stiffly in one of the chairs, looking like he'd rather be just about anywhere else. On the couch, a woman who belonged on the pages of a glossy magazine sat, sexy bare legs crossed at the knee.

  Kellen glared at his guy and mentally crossed him off the 'somewhat trusted' list. "Cheap, I wouldn't be here if you'd mentioned your seller didn't have a dick."

  The bitch's immaculately painted lips tightened. "Does it really matter? I have guns, you need guns."

  Kellen turned his glare to the perfect features and designer clothing. She had a point. "I'm here now. No sense wasting the trip. Show me what you've got."

  She flipped her perfect honey-colored hair back, and opened the leather bag at her side. "What's your poison? Revolvers?" She pulled three revolvers out, different calibers. "Semi-autos? Something with a little more punch?" More than a dozen weapons were laid out on the coffee table before her, ranging from a little .22 derringer to an assault rifle. "I have a truckload, nearly one thousand guns, of which these are a representative sample, all untraceable and clean."

  Lit cigarette hanging from his lip, Kellen dropped into the other chair and began to examine the guns. They were all good, and he wanted them, and more. "First, before we talk business, how does a high class whore get in the gun business?"

  She raised one elegant brow and straightened her back. "First, I might be high class, but I'm no whore. I fuck for fun, not money." Her golden brown gaze dropped, pausing at his groin, as if assessing him. "And second, not that it's any of your business, but I inherited the gun business. Satisfied?"

  His cock twitched in response to her boldness. "Far from it. But I'm on the clock. So talk to me. What terms are you looking for?"

  Her tongue slid across her full lower lip, creating a rush of heat through his groin. "In that case, we'll talk again when you're not so busy." She continued, naming her prices for each type of weapon.

  After a quick negotiation, they settled on a price they could both live with and made arrangements for delivery and payment. Kellen rose, ready to get the fuck out of the creepy place. He extended a hand to seal the deal.

  The woman stood, the top of her head nearly level with his eyes. "Baby, I don't shake on things." She stepped close and leaned up, one perfectly manicured hand going to the back of his neck.

  Stunned, Kellen didn't resist, allowing her to pull him down for a kiss. When she licked at the seam of his lips, he opened for her in an uncharacteristic submission. Her tongue swept into his mouth, clearly staking ownership. What the fuck? He woke from the spell with a little growl and took charge. One hand went behind her to grab a handful of her delicious designer ass and drag her to him, while the other sank into all that hair and grasped the back of her skull to tip her head just right.

  She hissed when she came into contact with his hard-on, but didn't pull away. Instead, she allowed him to taste and explore, to plunder her mouth.

  Kellen finally backed off a little to catch his breath. "How do I reach you so we can finish this?"

  She stared up at for a moment. "Your guy there can reach me. Let me know when you're free for a few hours." One hand slid between them to squeeze his cock. "And don't wait too long. I'm anxious to see what kind of weapon you pack." And just like that, she stepped away.

  Teaching high-class pussy about the dangers of bad boys offered a tempting diversion, but no, he had plans. He turned on his heel and left.

  Chapter Two - Late Night, Two Weeks Ago

  Kellen stepped out the front door and took a deep breath of clean night air. He loved the Hell Raiders, would kill for any of them, but damn they could make a huge stink. Between the BO, puke, piss, smoke and booze, the shit should be bottled as a chemical weapon. Even industrial strength air freshener didn't stand a chance.

  The stray cat Trip had taken to feeding wound around his feet, purring her fool head off. The temptation to kick the damn thing away nearly overwhelmed him. At the last second, memory of the cat's heavily pregnant belly stopped him. Damn thing would probably drop her kittens right on his foot if he gave in and kicked. So he gently moved her away with his foot, and stepped around.

  Over by the fence, he leaned against a post and lit a cigarette as he stared out across the field. He'd always thought he might put some horses there to pasture, or something, but none of the others were interested in caring for animals. Maybe one day.

  The door banged and Trip stomped over to lean against the next post. "'Sup, Boss?"

  "Just thinking."

  "Well, I hate to bring down your happy, but Hack is at it again." Trip took a long drag off his smoke. "This time he's messing with a chick Fabio brought in. Fabio's being cool so far, but he's not happy. If Hack goes much further, it's going to get ugly."

  Damn. Why couldn't Hack just act like a VP and keep his hands off the other guys' property? He sighed. "Guess that means I better go back in, huh?"

  "Yep, unless you want to pull a knife out of Hack, I'd say so." Trip grinned and stubbed his smoke out.

  Damn shame the Raiders had chosen Hack as VP. Trip would make a far better leader. Kellen took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it to grind it out with his toe. "Okay, might as well get it done." He headed back for the house, his mood edging deeper into the anger range with every step.

  Inside, Marilyn Manson blasted from the speakers and someone had pushed the furniture out of the way to make an impromptu dance floor. A couple of girls were doing their best to bump and grind, with rather funny results. Most of the guys seemed to appreciate their efforts, however, and cheered them on.

  Over by the bar, a fucked-up Hack squared off with one extremely angry Fabio, while a very scared looking girl hovered nearby. Before Kellen could get there, Hack took a swing at the big former Marine, but Fabio just slapped the punch away and the girl squealed. The girl's fear seemed to act like gasoline to a fire and set Hack off in a frenzy of kicks and punches.

  Kellen hurried. Fabio's cool temper and high respect for his Brothers stood as the only barriers between Hack's gut and a sharp blade, but that respect wore thin.

  Close enough to get a good look at Hack, Kellen cursed. The pinpoint pupils told the story. Hack ha
d chosen to celebrate with his powdered cocktail of choice, which included Xanax among other things, and turned him into an unpredictable and dangerous fucker, able to both inflict and sustain serious damage before he went down. By doing so, Hack had gone against Kellen's direct order.

  Heading in at angle behind Hack, Kellen signaled Fabio to keep the bastard busy so he could get close enough. He pulled the grenade—a lead weight covered with parachute cord and sized to fit in his palm—off his belt. Acting from long hours of practice, he used the six inches of loose cord at the end of the grenade to swing it against Hack's skull. The weapon landed exactly where he intended, a little behind the ear, and Hack went limp and slumped to the floor.

  Fabio stepped back and put his arm around the scared girl's shoulders. "Thanks, Kellen. I didn't want to cut him, but it was getting to the point I was going to have to."

  "Yeah, I know." Kellen signaled to Trip and Crank to drag Hack's ass out of the way. "He's going too far lately." Just the thought amped his anger up a few more notches. He stalked away and headed for his room. Anything to get away from it all at the moment. He was too close to blowing his lid. Maybe he could read a while and fall asleep.

  Except the damn screen showed a missed called from his contact in the gun deal. Fuck, he wasn't in the mood to deal with some bitch going back on her word. He almost deleted the voice mail without listening to it, ready to write the whole transaction off. But that stubborn sense of responsibility reared its ugly head and forced him to hit the button and hear the message.

  The timid guy talked too fast. "Hey, uh, Kellen? That bitch back there? She called me, all pissed, said you'd took too long to call her back. And that I better get hold of you and tell you if you want the deal to go forward, you owe her a phone call." He rattled off a number and hung up.

  Fuck again. Kellen punched in the number. That bitch was as good as any to unload his mad on.

  "Took you long enough, baby. I was beginning to think you didn't want to show me that weapon." The sexy voice rolled right down his spine to give his balls a nice little squeeze. Took care of the anger real quick.