Havoc (Twisted Kings MC #4)

1. Havoc

Havoc

Las Vegas is my home. But if I weren’t born and raised in this sliver of sin in the middle of the desert, I don’t think I would have ended up here on my own. Even in November, when the suffocating heat of summer has finally worn off, the crowds make it nearly impossible to breathe.

Bright lights, sunshine, and hordes of people fill every square inch of this city.

I grip the handlebars and try to ignore the cars closing in around me as I weave through traffic.

Legacy is at my side, not looking nearly as miserable as I feel since he has Reagan on the back of his bike.

One hand rests on his old lady’s thigh, while the other comfortably steers the path out of the city.

It takes twice as long to get across town with weekend events making a mess of the streets, but we need to check in on the girls staying at the safe house before the sun sets.

They’ve been understandably on edge since we rescued them from the Iron Sinners, so it’s better we show up when it’s daylight to not make anything worse.

When we finally break free from traffic, I take a deep breath and sink into the ride.

The breeze on the back of my neck is a welcome relief.

Without cars on either side of me, the road opens, and I can breathe again.

I can stop worrying about every little movement around us.

Wondering if our rivals are lurking in the cluster of cars and people, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

If there’s one thing I learned from my time in the Marines, it’s to always be ready for anything. That has served me well in the years since I left the military. And now, as the Twisted Kings sergeant at arms, those lessons help me protect my brothers as well as I protected my unit.

Protecting people is the one thing I’m good at, which is one of the reasons I took Steel up on his offer to take a trip to Los Angeles with Soul for a few weeks.

We leave tomorrow to help the Twisted Kings LA chapter deal with some issues they’re having, and I’m looking forward to the change in scenery.

I lean with my bike at the next turn, trying to lose myself in the ride, but the headache that’s been throbbing at the base of my skull all morning starts to ache again. Nothing seems to break up the tension lately.

Whiskey. Blow jobs. Long rides on open road.

It all ends the same. With me eventually back in my head, wishing I wasn’t. Wondering what could have been if I’d made different decisions .

When I was in the Marines, it was easier to forget I wanted something more. I was always on the move. Barely surviving. Fighting for my next breath. For the next day. For the men at my side.

I thrived on the rush of chasing one mission after the next. Slowly desensitizing. Losing myself in the next task and the next target.

For a while, I thought something had finally numbed me all the way through. Until I returned to Vegas and the shit in my head started surfacing again. No matter how far I run, I can’t run from myself.

I take a hard right into the neighborhood where the Twisted Kings safe house sits tucked away in the Vegas suburbs.

We hide it in plain sight because this kind of neighborhood makes it difficult for our enemies to sneak up on the people we put here.

The neighbors are always watching out their windows or skimming their doorbell security feeds.

They’ll call the cops at the first sign of anything out of place.

And while we don’t usually like drawing the attention of law enforcement, it works in our favor in this particular scenario.

Muscle memory takes over as I lean with the next turn, slowly winding through the neighborhood toward the safe house. I use the time to mentally check off what needs to be done before I leave for LA.

Touching base with my father is at the top of the list since he’s currently rotting away in the shithole he calls a house, avoiding my phone calls.

Dad retired from full-time work with the Twisted Kings years before I got out of the Marines, but he still handles a few things for the club.

Just enough to fund his trips to the bar as he slowly drinks himself to death.

He’s the prime example of what people expect from a biker.

Drinking, shooting, and fucking his way through life.

A reckless, wasted mess.

While I’ve dabbled in my fair share of women and whiskey, I’m nothing like him. I understand my responsibility. The club comes first. Nothing—not a bottle of booze, a bar fight, or a pretty face—gets in the way of that.

Legacy pulls into the safe house’s driveway, and I stop at the curb. There’s no movement outside like there is when a friendly club is using this place as a landing spot between cities, so the neighborhood is quiet.

If I had to guess, the girls staying here don’t go outside out of fear that the Iron Sinners might find them and finish what they started.

It was already a mix of luck and coincidence that we rescued the girls from those cages in the first place, since we weren’t looking for them. We were looking for Reagan.

After the Twisted Kings drained an Iron Sinners ancillary bank account, they got revenge by kidnapping Legacy’s old lady.

Thankfully, we found her quickly. And in the process, we uncovered the Iron Sinners sex-trafficking operation.

There were three other women with Reagan in the basement, and since we couldn’t leave them there, we brought them here for protection.

The Twisted Kings do plenty of terrible things, but we trade in guns and drugs, not flesh .

I climb off my bike and spot Reagan holding onto Legacy’s shoulders as she climbs off his. Her knees wobble for a second, but he doesn’t let her fall. For a guy I’ve seen do some reckless shit, he’s gentle when it comes to his daughter and his old lady. Which Reagan seems to appreciate.

It figures Legacy would be the one brother to lock down a woman who hasn’t so much as been on the back of a bike. Reagan is all sweetness and smiles. The opposite of everything we grew up with.

She’s his opposite. And yet, that’s what melted Legacy’s cold heart.

“She survived.” I grin, sliding off my helmet.

“She did great.” Legacy climbs off his bike once Reagan is stable on the ground. “My little koala bear.”

“I think I like that nickname.” Reagan wraps her arms around his waist and smiles up at him.

He whispers something in her ear, and I pull out my phone to give them space. With so many of my brothers locking down old ladies, I’ve quickly learned to hang back when they disappear into their own conversations.

Especially now, when I know Reagan must be on edge coming here and facing the girls who were locked in that basement with her.

Reagan hasn’t talked to anyone but Legacy about what happened when the Iron Sinners took her, but he’s passed on enough information for me to know she has a lot to work through.

And even if the club will do anything we can to help, the girls in this house are the only people who went through that with her .

I’m still hanging back when we step inside the house, pausing in the foyer.

Bryn and Kimberly smile with relief when they see Reagan is here to visit. The girls hug, and when they meet gazes, I catch a flicker of mutual understanding after all they’ve been through.

While Reagan hugs the girls, I keep my attention on my phone, trying to let Reagan have a moment without me hovering when we’re all crammed into a small space. I check my texts and add more things to the list of what needs to be done before I leave town with Soul.

Like he senses me thinking about it, a text comes through.

Soul

How much shit are you planning on bringing to LA?

Havoc

Worried your extensive wardrobe won’t fit in your saddlebags? You’re not putting your shit in mine.

Soul

Fuck no. LA patch bunnies… you’ll be lucky if I’m wearing clothes at all this trip.

I’m still chuckling at Soul’s text when Kimberly and Bryn finish with Reagan and disappear around the corner to start lunch. But we don’t follow as Reagan waits for the third and final girl to make her way downstairs. A girl I don’t know anything about .

Legacy met her when the guys raided the Iron Sinners property, but since I was dealing with Sera across town, I’ve yet to see her face.

She sticks to her room when the club comes by to check on things and refuses to talk to anyone except the girls living here. I don’t really blame her after what she must have witnessed or experienced with the Iron Sinners, but the behavior is a little odd given what Reagan told Legacy about her.

The third girl fought back. She saved Reagan’s life. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would hide away, which makes me wonder why she’s doing it.

Reagan shifts her weight from one foot to the other, waiting. Legacy meets my gaze over her head, and I shrug. He’s worried that this girl will disappoint Reagan by staying in her room, and his expression is proof of it.

Thankfully, his concern is erased by the creaking of a door upstairs.

I tuck my phone away as footsteps pad down the hallway overhead, waiting for a figure to pop up at the top of the staircase.

Her feet appear first, followed by her legs and waist. She’s tall and lean, with muscle tone that makes it clear she works out.

But she’s thin. Too thin from the Iron Sinners starving her.

It has me clenching my jaw.

She takes another step, and her heart-shaped face finally comes into view. She has piercing eyes, perfectly framed by shoulder-length brown hair. Eyes that stop my heart.

Eyes that still haunt me in the middle of the night .

Eyes that cut from Reagan to me and pause. But unlike the surprise that slackens my jaw, she doesn’t seem the least bit shocked to see me. Her pale cheeks twitch with the clench of her teeth as she lifts her chin and continues down the staircase.

When Reagan mentioned the girl’s name in passing, I didn’t think anything of it beyond not wanting to hear it again because it reminded me of someone who drags all my demons to the surface. Never in a million years did I think it was possible they were one and the same.

But as Aimee Landry walks toward me, my stomach plummets. Sounds fade. Memories blur.

It’s been fourteen years since I’ve seen Aimee, and if I thought I’d stopped counting, this moment proves me wrong because I feel every second of it.

She’s exactly how I remember, and yet, entirely different. Her soft curves have leaned out, and her gentle smile has been replaced by an icy frown. Her light-brown eyes are still the honey that traps me in an instant, and I can’t tear my gaze away from them now.

Her jaw clenches, adding an edge to the face that’s sharper than I remember. And my hands clench at my sides when I spot the healing gash that cuts through her eyebrow.

Reagan mentioned Aimee was hit with the butt of a gun trying to protect her from an Iron Sinner. But to see it on Aimee has my blood boiling.

I’m going to gut every last one of them.

When Aimee reaches the bottom step, my feet move on their own to bring me closer to her .

Fourteen years since this girl disappeared from my life, and I still can’t deny her pull.

Fourteen years since she dangled hope on that beautiful thread and then ripped it away, but I still can’t help that my heart begs me to be closer.

“Aimee.” I swallow hard, and I feel Legacy and Reagan’s attention turn.

Fourteen years.

Fourteen fucking years without a word.

I stare down into those honey-brown eyes and hate her for every second. And yet, I can’t stop staring.

“Levi.” Aimee’s chin juts up, and even if she’s tall, I’m a foot taller. “You came back.”

It takes me a moment to nod. But I don’t speak.

I can’t.

My tongue swells, and my blood is fire in my veins.

Aimee’s gaze falls to where I’m rubbing the hourglass tattooed on the back of my ring finger, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Her eyes lift, and with a final, empty stare, she simply turns and walks away.

The girl who broke my fucking heart just walks away like I’m nothing. Like she didn’t make a hundred promises and break them the second I tried to live up to mine.

Maybe I shouldn’t blame her with what she might have been through recently. But I can’t think about that. I can’t think about anything, or I might not survive another second from how my heart has nearly stopped beating in my chest.

So I don’t.

I watch her walk away and say nothing.

After all, it’s not the first time I’ve seen her do it.