Kayne's Fury: A Savage Saints MC Read online

  Kayne’s Fury

  A Savage Saints MC Novel

  J. Lynn Lombard

  Contents

  Note From The Author

  Prologue

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by J. Lynn Lombard

  Published by J. Lynn Lombard

  Copyright 2019 by J. Lynn Lombard

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction, or utilization of the work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. For information email: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: C. Kreitz

  Cover Design: Bite Me Graphics

  Dedication

  Thank you so much Sarah D and Michelle D. Without the two of you helping me find my way through this novel and getting my ass up in the morning, this would not be possible. I appreciate everything you have done and continue to do for me to make this a success.

  Cyn, Holly, Katie, Joy, Kim and Krista. Thank you for being my Guinee pigs and dealing with my million and one messages on how you’re doing while reading this.

  Kiersten (Yes you) thank you, my sista from another mista for being here for me since I debuted Racing Dirty and loving these characters as much as I have.

  CeeJay, TC and Ellie Jean we might have started our group chat to talk CeeJay down from the ledge a few times, but without the three of you, I would have gone crazy. #crazydaisygirlsforever!

  Bianca, oh where do I begin. The teacher turning into the student. Thank you for helping me get things going and being there for me when I become overwhelmed. Love you girl!

  Without further ado, I bring you Kayne’s Fury a Savage Saints MC novel. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have writing it.

  Note From The Author

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for accepting this copy of Kayne’s Fury, A Savage Saints MC. Please remember there is no sharing, copying, duplicating this copy. I appreciate you taking a chance on me and my work. I hope you enjoy this story and get lost in the Savage Saints world.

  This novel is not for the weak of hearts. There is blood, murder, mayhem and betrayal along with twists and turns that will leave you face palming, hand sweating and erratic heart beating written in here. If you can’t handle violence or sex, I suggest you stop right now, turn off your kindle and a find something else to do.

  If you wish to continue, keep turning and join me in the Savage Saints world.

  Prologue

  Kayne

  Three Years Earlier

  “Get the fuck up, now Kayne.” Steam, the Prez of Savage Saints Detroit bellows, pounding on my door rousing me from unconsciousness. My brain is pounding against my skull, my mouth is dry like the Sahara Desert and my body is in agony. I groan and roll over coming face to face with a petite brunette whose name I can’t remember. She smiles, her slender fingers slide down the sheets and grip my cock. She licks her lips but it does nothing for me. I remove her hand and climb out of bed.

  “Where you going baby?” she whines from behind me.

  “Get the fuck out. I have business to take care of.” I’m being a dick, but I don’t care. Last night never should have happened and she never should have stayed. Last thing I remember is getting piss ass drunk from the stress of being here and now I wake up to a whiny ass woman who’s expecting more. My head is pounding, my body is sluggish and now my Prez is pounding on my door. Two year’s sobriety down the fucking drain because I couldn’t handle the stress of being in this hellhole. She still isn’t moving so I have to be a bigger asshole.

  “Did you hear me? I said get the fuck out, now.” I light up a cigarette and the nicotine is a soothing shot to my system, calming me down.

  She scampers off the bed, collecting her clothes as she goes. “You’re an asshole and a lazy fuck.” She spits out before heading to the door.

  “I don’t remember fucking you at all, so you must not be that good.” I lash back at the bitch. “Go find some other brother to fuck you cause you aren’t ever touching me again.”

  “I wouldn’t want to with that limp dick.” She fires back.

  “Good, that’s what you get for taking advantage of someone drunk. Now, get the fuck out of my room and never look at me again.” Remorse fills my body for acting like an asshole. I can’t help it. This bitch won’t leave. If I remember nothing happening that means nothing did. I would remember fucking her.

  She slams the door, making my head pound harder. I stub out my cigarette and take two aspirin, washing it down with a water bottle on my stand. I need food to get rid of this hangover.

  “Kayne, move your fucking ass,” Blayde shouts through my door. Blayde and I have been best friends since we were kids and joined Savage Saints together. My father, God rest his soul, was a member of Savage Saints before I was born and I followed in his footsteps, but I’m itching to leave this shit hole. After my dad died in a drive-by, I’ve been wanting to leave. Start my own Chapter away from these memories.

  My Prez, Steam, is running this place to the ground and I want to take it to the next level. All he cares about is getting his dick wet and it’s not good for business.

  I slide on a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and my Savage Saints cut. Our patch, a skull wearing a bandana and tilted crown with a set of wrenches as crossbones attached to chrome motorcycle handlebars and Savage Saints written in Old English, makes me proud to put it on, but I need more. I need my own Chapter to run.

  With a deep exhale, I open my bedroom door and walk into the kitchen. There are club members sitting around eating and being disgusting pigs, but I’d lay my life down for each of them. Heading for the coffee pot, I pour myself a cup of coffee and look out the window. The sun is shining bright and the warmth cascades across my face easing my pounding head.

  “Kayne, good you’re here. Come on, we have something to discuss,” Steam calls. I knock back the coffee quick. It burns my throat, but I need the caffeine to face him. I grab a handful of bacon off someone's plate, shove them in my mouth and follow Steam into Church.

  I stumble when I see the main club members sitting around the scarred table and Blayde. He shakes his head when he spots me.

  “Kayne, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.” Steam orders. I swallow hard, the bacon and coffee I just ingested are threatening to appear on the wooden floor. There’s usually only one reason Steam would call Church to a select few members. Someone needs to be stripped from their patch because they betrayed the club. I narrow my eyes at each brother sitting here, trying to figure out who. Each of the six guys are keeping eye contact with me. No one is fidgeting or shifty.

  Steam slams the gavel on the scarred table, starting the meet
ing. “It has come to light that we have a traitor among our ranks. Kayne, I know you haven’t been very happy down here since your father’s death.” I start to protest but Steam holds his hands up stopping me. “I think of you as my own son and see you struggle every day. Last night’s actions sealed it for me. I’m offering you an opportunity to turn your life around and get the fuck out of here. You’ve been ready to lead your own Chapter and I’ve been selfishly stubborn on giving it to you. So, I’m offering you the chance right here and right now to head your own Chapter.”

  I’m speechless. My mouth opens and closes several times before I can respond. This is what I’ve been wanting, what I’ve been dreaming about and it’s right here laid out before me. There’s got to be a catch though. Steam doesn’t just offer this up to anyone for no reason.

  Placing my hands on the table, I lean forward making eye contact with Steam, “What’s the catch?”

  Steam smirks, “Our sister Chapter in the middle of the mitten is having leadership problems. The current President there can’t seem to keep his nose clean and his members are all in prison, making that land ripe for the taking. I want you to head up there today, clean house and take over. Get the fresh start you deserve.”

  “May I request one thing?”

  “What?”

  “Blayde comes with me. I need him to be my V.P.” Blayde gasps, his eyes are huge and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

  “Granted. Now pack up and roll out.” Steam slams the gavel on the table adjourning the meeting. The six main members stand up, congratulate me and leave the room. There’s only Blayde, Steam and I left. Steam leans back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head. I’m beyond grateful for Steam letting me loose and running my own Chapter. I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up and it must be written on my face.

  “Kayne, I have full confidence you can turn that Chapter around. I see you struggle every day dealing with your father’s death. He was a great man, an even better friend, and a loyal club member. He raised you to be a strong man. He will be proud of you.”

  Tears are forming in my eyes. Steam has never let on that he sees all of this. I exhale a deep breath composing myself before speaking. “Thanks, Steam. I will do you proud.”

  “I know you will. Now get the fuck out and pack. I want you there by sundown. That’s around the time Clutch will be three sheets to the wind, balls deep in some underage pussy and won’t know what hit him. Make an impression.” He smirks and I nod my head standing up. “Oh and Kayne?”

  “Yeah Prez?”

  “There’s a man there from a rival club, Deadly Sins MC. His name is Drex. He’s the one who’s been supplying Clutch with the white shit. Watch your back with him. He will try to kill you when he sees there’s a new President in town.” Steam pulls something out of his pocket and slides it across the table. I pick it up, looking it over. It’s my very own President patch. Pride fills my body while I grasp it in my hands. “Take it to Cougar. She’ll sew it on for you.”

  “Thank you, Steam. I won’t let you down.”

  “No shit. Now quit getting all fucking sappy on me, boy.” He stands and follows me out the door. Resting his hand on my shoulder, “If you need anything, you call me. We protect our loyal members.”

  “I will. Now, I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He smirks and releases my shoulder walking away.

  “Bro,” Blayde slides up next to me still in shock. “I can’t believe that. When he called me in, I thought for sure we were being banished or some shit. This is fucking awesome.”

  His excitement is rubbing off and I can’t help grinning from ear to ear. “Fuck yes, it is.”

  “Come on. We’ve got a lot of pavement to pound and a short time to do it.” Blayde slaps me on the back and runs up the stairs getting his shit around to leave.

  I walk into my room and stare at the patch. This is beyond life changing for me. My mind is running a million miles an hour as I throw everything important to me into my duffle bags. First thing I’m going to do is eliminate Clutch, clean house and recruit some men. I’ll need loyal men who love to ride and won’t be afraid to get their hands bloody and dirty in the process. I know just the place to check on our way up. It’s a Nomad bar for bikers who are either outcasts from their own areas or haven’t found their place yet. I’ve passed through it a few times on runs up North.

  This is it. This is my new beginning to an awful, gut-wrenching end here in Detroit.

  ONE

  Poison

  Present

  Blood.

  So much blood.

  It drenches my body, splattered all over my face and clothes, seeping into my pores.

  The coppery scent mixed with sulfuric acid of gunpowder burns my nose when I inhale a ragged breath. My stomach is churning and bile is climbing a path up my raw throat. Heavy footsteps fade from the room. I don’t move a muscle or dare make a sound. If I do, they’ll come back and finish me off. Like they did to my family, every member of the Deadly Sins MC Club, that’s now scattered across the clubhouse living room. All of them dead. Their lifeless eyes are staring at me, accusing me of surviving, when I should be dead like them. I inhale a shallow ragged breath, close my eyes and calm my racing heart.

  The door to the clubhouse opens in the distance and muffled voices fill the silent space. They’re too far away to hear what they’re saying. The start of bikes rumbles the clubhouse windows, teasing and taunting me, fading away into the distance. I’m lucky these assholes didn’t rape me. A woman, even in their own clubhouse, is in dangerous territory. My father taught me how to defend myself at an early age when one of the rival MC’s tried to rape me when I was fourteen. Since that night, no one in their right mind tried anything like that again.

  Opening my eyes, I look at our logo standing proudly on the wall. The legacy my grandfather created. The one my father destroyed. Bloody, broken angel wings behind three black crossbones and Deadly Sins written below in Old English. My grandfather was proud of this club and the men who represented our colors. They all respected him and worshipped the ground he walked on. He saved every single member from their own demise. When he passed away, my father, Drex, took over. His hot temper and stubborn, fucked up head got us into this mess. I knew it would happen sooner or later, but I was hoping for the latter. I needed more time to get shit together. I had side deals with another MC club and we had big plans to move forward, get my club out of the danger Drex put us in. Now it’s all gone. Done for in a hot minute.

  Earlier today, I went on a run with my father’s VP, MadDog, along with Kayne, Blayde and Stryker of the Savage Saints MC, delivering a shipment of guns to the Irish. The normal runs my father forced me to do are with Kayne, the President of the Savage Saints and we usually drop and run drugs and cash. Very seldom I do the runs that include guns. The Irish weren’t expecting me to be there and things were a little tense for a few moments. After they gathered their tongues and wits, business went smoothly as expected. They asked MadDog a bunch of questions, ignoring me, but MadDog kept sending their questions my way. I was prepared and ready for them. I knew the ins and outs of every piece of machinery we brought with us. I earned their respect tonight. Now, I’m lying in someone else’s blood, waiting for something to happen.

  When we came back it was after midnight, music was streaming out of the clubhouse windows, into the dead of night. I was physically and mentally exhausted, ready to take a shower, wash the grime of the road off me, and climb beneath the cool sheets of my bed. Alone. Thinking about a sexy biker with messy blonde hair, a scruffy goatee and ice blue eyes that sear into my soul and isn’t afraid to call me out when I’m acting like a bitch which I do often when we’re together. That biker has me tied up in knots. One minute I can’t stand to be around him, the next I can’t keep my hands off his muscular, tattooed body. It’s confusing and irritating. I’ve tried to fight my attraction toward him, but each time we’re together my body and mind don’t correspond to each other. My body wants his
strong hands owning me, my mind wants to lash out and tell him to fuck off.

  MadDog and I walked in the front door and the patch whores were everywhere, dancing, laughing and drinking. Some were going down on club members in the hallway or even fucking out in the open which disgusted me. Everyone was accounted for letting loose and relaxing except Siren, my best friend since childhood. She’s been MIA lately and I’m really worried about her, but when she’s ready to talk and tell me what’s going on, she will.

  That’s when they hit. Men I’ve never seen before, came barging in, guns drawn, wearing black jeans, black hoodies and had their faces covered with black bandana’s, firing shots into every room. MadDog was still standing next to me in the kitchen when bodies started to drop and screams pierced the air. He covered me and fired back, hitting one of the guys in the shoulder. That gave us enough time to make it into the living room. Bodies were everywhere. I tripped over one, falling face first in their warm blood. I hit my head on the corner of the oak coffee table and blacked out. When I came too, I could hear them talking.

  “Everyone accounted for?” One man asked in a raspy voice.

  “Yes, boss. They’re all dead.” Another man answered. I held my breath in case they were still checking bodies.