Foolish Riot Read online

  Foolish Riot

  A Riot MC Novel

  Copyright © 2019 Karen Renee

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to the ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by 100Covers.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Playlist

  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

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek at Respectable Riot

  Other Books by Karen Renee

  About Karen Renee

  Connect with Karen Renee

  Dedication

  For Jellybean

  No matter what, without you…none of this would be happening. Love you, always.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my readers! None of this would be possible without you, for that I’ll always be grateful!

  This book was a serious effort for many reasons. Huge Kudos to Jennifer C. and Michelle S. who read a very rough cut of this…knowing Trixie was your girl, it warms my soul to know I did her justice! A heartfelt thank you as always to all of my Beta-Readers, you ladies help to keep a writer grounded. Your continued support means so much to me.

  Barbara J. Bailey, thank you does not seem like a sentiment strong enough for my gratitude. Yet again, your attention to detail knows no bounds.

  Thank you to my husband, son, and all of my friends and family. Putting up with me (on and off of crutches) and my writing schedule means more than you’ll ever know.

  Playlist

  BAD REPUTATION by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

  WHAT A FOOL BELIEVES by the Doobie Brothers

  SHIP OF FOOLS by Robert Plant

  CHAIN OF FOOLS by Aretha Franklin

  I HATE MYSELF FOR LOVING YOU by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

  BROKEN by Lifehouse

  SUPERPOSITION by Young the Giant

  BROKEN by lovelytheband

  NEXT TO ME by Imagine Dragons

  ON TOP OF THE WORLD by Robin Thicke

  CHAPTER ONE

  Trixie

  Ten years ago…

  The blue and yellow tassel dangling from my rear-view mirror reminded me I had pulled off one helluva feat. Graduating high school had looked pretty damn iffy just a month ago, but thankfully I passed that damn chemistry exam. In another stroke of what seemed to be shifting luck, I had a full-time job, though it was a dead-end. That didn’t concern me much, at least not yet. I had cash in my wallet, and my father was cool with me staying home a little longer. Of course, his tremors were progressing, so even if he wanted me to move out, I’d have argued.

  Glancing past the tassel to the trailer Dad and I lived in, I put the car in gear. For now, I was still hanging with the smokers and stoners from school, and tonight we were headed to a party with a bunch of old friends.

  Hillary and Michelle were sharing a cigarette outside when I got to the party. Hillary dropped the butt to the ground. “About damn time you got here, Patricka. You’ll never believe who’s here.”

  “Don’t call me ‘Patricka,’” I grumbled.

  Michelle chuckled while nodding her blonde head. “Let it go, Patti. You remember Clint Smith and Gary Laughlin? They were two years ahead of us.”

  I nodded, though I barely remembered them. If I wasn’t mistaken, they were jocks and not people I paid attention to much.

  Michelle’s grin told me she not only remembered them, but liked what she remembered. “They’re inside, and didn’t bring anyone with them. Hope I can get Clint to give me the time of day.”

  Hillary shrugged a shoulder up to her bobbed brown hair. “I don’t know. There’s some other guys I saw, who are older than Clint and Gary. Lots to choose from, so let’s go inside.”

  When we walked into the living room, I was a little surprised. It wasn’t my first house party, and it wouldn’t be the first time I drank illegally. It was the first time I saw drugs at the ready. I recognized Clint and Gary, with another guy whose name I couldn’t remember. They were sitting on a couch, leaned over the coffee table. The guy I didn’t remember was laying out cigarette papers while Gary dealt with the marijuana to be rolled in the papers.

  It wouldn’t be good for me to try marijuana at this point. I needed a steadier job, and I knew drug tests were a bitch to pass. I moved beyond Michelle and Hillary to the kitchen. Making my way through the people milling about, I grabbed a few potato chips. As I was pulling open the refrigerator door, a warm body settled behind me.

  “Lookin’ for a mixer, Paula?”

  I could smell the alcohol on the guy’s breath, but turned to look at him anyway. Clint was right behind me, with his dark brown hair falling slightly into his eyes. He was cute, if you were into put-together pretty-boys. I wasn’t. From an early age, my circumstances turned me into a tomboy, and I preferred guys to look a little rough.

  I shook my head. “It’s Patti. And, nope, not looking for a mixer. Just beer, but thanks.” Pulling a long neck from the door of the fridge, I closed it and turned back to Clint.

  He shrugged at me and smirked. “Whatever you say. Got some weed. It’s really good shit. You should try it. If that’s not your thing, we got some ‘X’ too.”

  I twisted off the beer cap. “Keep that in mind. Thanks.”

  More than an hour later, I had lost track of Michelle and Hillary. There were twice as many people in the house now, and many of them were guys. It was a good mix of people, but I was a little intimidated by the number of older guys, and how good-looking they were. As I wound my way back to the living room from the bathroom, Gary approached me with a smile on his face.

  “Havin’ a good time?”

  I had a fair amount of alcohol in me, so I smiled a brighter smile than I normally would. “Yeah. You?”

  “Suppose. Wanna fool around?”

  Between him and Clint, Gary was much rougher-looking. His cheeks were scruffier, his nose more pronounced, and he had a small scar on the side of his lip. Maybe it was a case of ‘beer goggles,’ but he seemed attractive to me and I nodded.

  He grinned at me, and lowered his head to kiss me. It was a good kiss, and his hands started roaming my body, so I reciprocated. He started moving us backwards, and I knew the bathroom wasn’t too far behind me, but then he pushed us to the left of the bathroom, and I vaguely realized we were entering a bedroom.

  When my knees hit the edge of a bed, I laughed and Gary chuckled. Once my body
was flat on the bed, Gary stepped away, and I realized two other guys were in the room with us. Fear coursed through me, and I started to sit up, only to be shoved flat by hands at my shoulders.

  “No!” I screamed my shrillest scream.

  My Uncle Derrick taught me about fighting back. I had failed against him, but then again, I was only thirteen when he forced himself on me. With all of my might, I was flinging every limb at Gary and whoever the other two guys in the room were. I didn’t connect often, but my thrashing and screaming kept them from getting my clothes off.

  However, all the screaming and kicking in the world couldn’t hold off determined men. The guy on my right put his huge mitt over my mouth, stifling my screams. The fear roiling in my veins turned to sheer terror because that hand was attached to an arm which had me in a vicious headlock.

  Dear God! Could my luck be so rotten that I would be raped more than once before I turned nineteen?

  The door to the room flew open with a loud bang, loud enough to be heard over the Nickleback CD that had been playing on repeat. The next thing I knew, a burly, and mean-looking man pulled them all off me. His bronze hair was fastened back in a low short ponytail. I mutely watched as he pummeled his fists into their faces. He looked like he was only slightly older than Gary and Clint. However, the way he used his fists told me he had seen a lot of life. I noticed he was wearing a black leather vest of some sort. It had a huge patch on the back, of a fist held up in the air with a skull above it. There were wings darting out from the sides of the skull, and it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Add the arched banner above it, which read ‘Riot MC’, and I knew there was something special about this guy.

  He didn’t introduce himself to me, and he didn’t make much eye contact with me at all. I read his name patch after he finished with Gary. His name was “Roll,” and it was terribly fitting, because God knew he rolled right over all three of the assholes who were attacking me. I fell in love with this man right then and there. I would never be good enough for a knight in shining armor, but a big, beefy guy in a leather vest? Most definitely.

  His eyes blazed at me. I hoped and prayed he’d extend a hand to me, something to pull me to him. His lips were pressed in a hard line. “Go home.”

  Before I could respond, he left the premises.

  Problem was, I didn’t know his club. I didn’t know lots of things, but after that night, I did my level best to find out what I didn’t know.

  ***

  In my quest to find out what I didn’t know, I hung at every known biker bar I could get to. I even went as far away as Starke. Hanging at biker bars got me a reputation. My personal theme song was “Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett. It might sound hokey, but I believed everyone had a song that summed them up perfectly. I didn’t need, or deserve, the rep I earned, but with my theme song in mind, I didn’t give a damn about a bad reputation. Plus, thanks to that undeserved reputation, a few months later I finally got an invite to a biker party at a club compound.

  I never wanted to be a sweet-butt or club girl, but the biker parties were wild, to say the least. Booze, smoking of multiple types, drugs of many varieties, and easy ass were the main attractions.

  At that party, I didn’t find the elusive Roll, but I found a biker willing to show me a good time. We went at it hot and heavy in the common room in front of tons of people, and I did not give the first fuck. When we were done, he told me to make myself scarce. That didn’t faze me, either, because I’d been spending a lot of time observing how bikers behaved.

  I lifted my leg from his lap and righted my skirt. Then, I strutted over to the bar. The only free space was next to a very tall, skinny woman. She had sandy-brown hair, which contrasted with her blue eyes. I smiled half-heartedly and she chuckled.

  “You’re good at puttin’ on a show,” she said.

  “Good to know you enjoyed it,” I quipped.

  She belly-laughed. “I like you. Never seen you around. You need a friend?”

  I shrugged. “Friends never hurt.”

  Her smile became guarded. “As a friend, then: you should know Iggy’s bad news. He isn’t right in the head. Seriously.”

  After she explained about Iggy, I found out her name was Melissa and she divided her free time between the Devil Lancers MC, the Leathernecks MC, and Riot MC. We exchanged phone numbers, agreeing to hit another biker bash the following weekend.

  “Hey, Trix!” Melissa greeted me a week later when I opened my apartment door to her. Her light brown hair was teased all around her head and she might have been wearing more makeup than me. I didn’t know where the Leatherneck compound was located, so Melissa had agreed to give me a ride.

  “Hi, ya. Lemme grab my bag, and we’ll go.”

  Melissa drove a small pick-up truck, but she drove it like it was a tank. I thought she was going to rear-end at least three different vehicles as she drove us out to Mayport.

  When we pulled into the compound, the brothers were all taking tables and food inside the clubhouse, because a thunderstorm had opened up overhead. Melissa and I managed to get inside without being completely soaked by the deluge.

  There were people everywhere and the air inside was dense with smoke from the barbecued meat and the many people with cigarettes.

  I scanned the room and immediately noticed, Iggy, from the Devil Lancers. His legs were spread wide open and a woman was kneeling between them. He had his hand on the crown of her head. His eyes were closed as she worked him with her hands and mouth. I was more than happy Melissa had warned me off of him. Plus, he was a good time, but I’d be damned if I’d be sloppy seconds for him.

  I prowled around the room. Bikers lived by their own rules, I had figured that out quick. As I moved about, looking for a beer or a cocktail, I ignored the multiple ass-grabs I received. One guy was standing in my way of the bar; he looked down at me and grabbed my breast.

  “You skipped first base, man,” I said as I pulled away from him.

  A space opened up at the bar, and I moved to it. A prospect behind the bar put a beer in front of me. I grabbed it and turned around, to find Iggy standing in front of me. I was surprised to see him so soon, since it had looked like the skank was taking her time. My mind was debating on what to say to him, when I found my hand holding the beer suddenly empty.

  “Thanks for the beer, baby. We had a great time last weekend. Let’s do that again, I’m sure I can find us a bed somewhere or an empty couch at worst.”

  Seriously?

  I blew out a breath. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll have to pass tonight. See, I don’t play second fiddle real well.”

  Confusion passed over his face, and his eyes were not right. They looked angry, but glassy. Too glassy for my tastes, which told me he was high, and probably drunk, too. He was tall and lean. I knew from last weekend that even though he was lean, he could be strong. He pressed forward to tower over me and pushed my back against the bar.

  “What do you mean, you’ll have to pass?” he said very loudly.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You just had some skank suck you off. I’m not interested in being the second act for you tonight.”

  His glassy eyes filled with fury. “I don’t care what you’re interested in, bitch. All a-you groupies are here for cock, and you’ll take my cock any way I want you to do it.”

  He downed the majority of the beer, slammed the bottle on the bar behind me, and then gripped both of my biceps. Blood was roaring in my ears as fear settled in my gut. His fingers pressed into my flesh and I could smell his beer breath as his head came closer to me, but I was shocked when my biceps stung because he was yanked away from me.

  A tall, thin man with long brown hair said to him, “Go find some other groupie who’s willing. Woman says she’ll pass, she’ll pass.”

  Iggy started to take him on, but a burly, sandy-blond-haired man in a Riot MC cut slid in front of him.

  “Don’t even think of it. You take on Blood, you take on me, too.”

  Iggy’s c
razed eyes scanned the cut the sandy-blond man was wearing, and then he turned on his heel and moved to the other side of the room. I liked these Riot guys immediately.

  The two of them turned back to me. I had already gathered the dark-haired guy was Blood, and the bulky guy’s name patch said he was Cal.

  “Thanks for that,” I said, with an apologetic smile.

  Blood gave me a once-over. “You sure this is your scene, woman?”

  “Sure, I’m sure,” I said, hitching my shoulder up at him.

  “All right,” Cal said. The two of them sauntered away from me slowly, but I still heard Cal say to Blood, “Let’s find Roll and get the fuck outta here. Melissa’s here and I don’t want to run into her.”

  He was here! I hurried after them, and asked, “Did you say Roll is here?”

  Both bikers turned to me stiffly. Shit! I’d forgot one of the cardinal rules about bikers. Bikers approached you, never the other way around. I gave them a shy smile and mentally crossed my fingers as they gave me assessing gazes.

  A gruff voice spoke from behind me. “Let’s go, brothers. This party is not my thing tonight.”

  I gasped and looked over my shoulder, to see the huge, wavy-haired biker I’d been looking for. He looked at me sideways and gave me a chin-lift, “Have a good time, sweet cheeks.”

  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t speak. Frozen, I watched his great ass leave the party. Adding to my self-disgust, I did not have a good time that night. Melissa found herself a partner, and since I’d foolishly ridden with her, I was stuck people-watching. The prospect working the bar had paid attention during the altercation with the Devil Lancer, and kept me well supplied with beer.

  ***

  I took a three month break from the biker party scene.

  I had landed a job at Walmart and moved into my own tiny efficiency apartment in Green Cove Springs. The complex wasn’t ideal, and I was pretty certain there were drug deals going down on the corner every night. I turned a blind eye and kept to myself. During those three months, Melissa called me regularly, to go to parties or bars with her. We would chat, but I put her off. I hadn’t heard from her in over a week, and I was afraid that my putting her off on the social scene had put her off of me.