Outcast (Southern Rebels MC Book 2) Read online

  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

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Author’s Note

  Traitor

  Outcast

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  OUTCAST: A SOUTHERN REBELS MC NOVEL

  First edition: May 31st, 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Kristin Coley

  Written by Kristin Coley

  Cord

  Coming home was the last thing I ever intended to do. The club had declared me outcast. My brothers had grown up without me. But when I was wounded, the military sent me home.

  Meeting her….well that was a cosmic fucking joke.

  Hate didn’t begin to cover how I felt. I despised her and everything she represented.

  Tori

  He was the last thing I needed in my life. Another reminder of everything I’d rejected in an effort to pay penance for my past. Curiosity about the scarred solider who kept watch over the tiny grave was dangerous, even more than my nightly excursions into the dark underbelly of Friendly.

  Our very natures repelled us apart, but the thing about magnetism is….like it or not…..opposites attract.

  Chapter One

  Cord

  I stared at the blue shutters for the longest time wondering which of my idiot brothers had decided to paint the old house.

  “Creed,” I sighed under my breath, shifting the duffel bag higher on my shoulder as I stepped up to the door. He always had been the fixer in the family. The one who found the broken and somehow put them back together again.

  I turned the door knob, but it resisted and I shook it until I realized it was locked.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I banged on the door, pissed I had to knock on my own damn door.

  “Hold your freaking horses,” I heard a feminine voice shout as a dog started to bark. “Hush, Maisy, sneak attack, remember?”

  “Are you talking to the dog?” I yelled at the door, leaning back to verify I had the right house. No way was some chick living in our house, especially not one who talked to animals like they could understand her.

  “Who wants to know?” She answered back like it was her business.

  “Open the fucking door!” I shouted, giving it a kick for good measure as the last few days caught up with me. I braced myself against the door frame, knowing there was no way in hell this chick was going to open it with me yelling and acting like an asshole. “Look –”

  The door yanked open and I almost fell in as a tiny blonde dynamo stared up at me, saying, “Look here, asshole.” She stopped suddenly, staring at me and then let out a huge sigh. “Of course.” She hushed the growling dog next to her, “It’s okay, Maisy. The prodigal son has returned.” She eyed me, completely unimpressed. “Cord,” she stated flatly and I nodded warily.

  “Who are you?” I asked sharply the words coming out more as an accusation.

  “Sloan, also known as Jailbait, and Angel, but the last one is only because Noah has a terrible sense of humor.”

  “Who. Are. You?” I enunciated and she leaned forward, speaking slower.

  “Jail….bait.”

  I swallowed, casting my gaze up as I prayed for patience I didn’t have. “Crew is too young for an old lady and Creed is too responsible to go for a kid. If you’re some prank or welcome home gift, I’m not interested,” I told her, fighting to remain upright as exhaustion and pain slowly scraped away any veneer of civility I might have possessed.

  “You’ve been gone a long time,” she replied, stepping away from the door and motioning me in. “Get in before you fall in.”

  “What are you doing in my house?” I asked again, my voice grating when I was forced to use the door for support as I stepped inside my home for the first time in over eight years.

  “I live here,” she answered as she came forward and braced herself under my shoulder. “Let’s get you to your room.”

  “I don’t need your help,” I growled, hating the weakness that disagreed with that statement. “I’m fine.” She ignored me as the dog, Maisy, I thought scornfully, who the hell names a dog Maisy, trotted alongside of us.

  “I do,” she answered and I flushed at the realization I’d said it out loud. “I rescued her when Creed shot her owner for dog fighting.”

  “Sounds like Creed,” I muttered, trying not to lean on her since she didn’t look strong enough to lift my bag much less support my two hundred pound ass.

  “So you do know your brothers,” she replied, the faintest hint of scorn in her voice. “I was starting to wonder.”

  “They’re my brothers,” I retorted sharply, swaying when she came to an abrupt stop.

  “If I’m understanding the situation correctly, you haven’t bothered to contact them in over eight years. Then you send a letter saying you’re coming home. But you don’t bother to mention you’re injured,” she rattled off, staring up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what you think the definition of brother is, but maybe you should take some time to look it up while you’re home.” She started moving again and I was forced to go along, my leg starting to give out after the strain I’d put it through, and while I’d die before admitting it, she was the only thing keeping me upright. “God, you’re heavy,” she huffed, coming to a door and shoving it open to reveal a set of bunk beds against one wall, a dresser on the other, and nothing else. The walls were a bright blue that made me wince, remembering when Crew had begged us to paint them for him.

  “Crew’s room?” I questioned as we hobbled to the bottom bunk. Thankfully, it was a full bed.

  “Yeah, Creed and I have the master, and Crew took the other bedroom when we moved in,” she answered breathlessly as I fell more than sat on the bed and she straightened.

  “You’re with Creed?” There was no mistaking my incredulity and she nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “You’re too young,” I snapped and she laughed, laughed, at me. The sound of a baby crying drew her attention and she headed for the door, leaving me half sprawled on the bunk bed as I shouted after her, “You have a baby?”

  “I’m an uncle?” I whispered to myself incredulously. My head dropped back on the bed when she disappeared without answering and I groaned, wondering what the hell had happened in the years I’d been gone.

  I used my arms and good leg to situate myself on the bed more comfortably, finally laying back as pain throbbed through me. I knew I should take one of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, hating the way they made me feel.

  The baby stopped crying as I lay there breathing heavily from the exertion of hauling myself across the bed, the weakness making my limbs shaky. A cold nose pressed against my arm and then Maisy jumped up next to me, making tight circles before settling along my side.

  “Oh yeah, Creed doesn’t let her sleep with us, so she made this her room,” the not so fragile blonde mentioned, standing in the door with a little girl on her hip. “Guess she’s okay with sharing.”

  “Great,” I mu
ttered, staring at the underneath of the bed above me, the wooden slats covered in graffiti from a younger Crew. “I get the dog bed.”

  She laughed lightly, bouncing the toddler on her hip, and I rolled my head to see her more closely. “What’s her name?” I asked, biting back a curse as my leg cramped painfully. I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s your name? You didn’t actually refer to yourself as Jailbait?”

  She laughed harder, bright green eyes sparkling and I could see why my responsible younger brother might have fallen on his dick for her. “Creed nicknamed me Jailbait and unfortunately it stuck. This is Kara,” she added, motioning to the kid on her hip. “She’ll be two in a couple of weeks.”

  I had to draw a deep breath as my heart clenched, memories I’d run from starting to creep back more quickly than I’d bargained. “She’s cute,” I offered, grimacing as I shifted my leg, trying to ease the agonizing pain.

  “I’m sure Ronnie will appreciate hearing you think so,” she mentioned, eyeing me. “You need something?” She nodded to my duffel on the floor, her observant eyes taking in my discomfort.

  “No,” I said harshly, and Maisy lifted her head, giving me the doggie equivalent of the evil eye. I leaned my head away from her and evened out my tone. “I don’t want to take any more pain pills,” I explained and Maisy laid her head back down.

  “How ‘bout aspirin or ibuprofen?” She suggested, walking over to pick up my bag. She grunted at the weight but managed to settle it on a chair in the corner. “The guys will be home in a couple of hours.” She gave me a sideways glance. “Might not be a bad idea for you to take something before then.”

  I watched her for a minute before giving a short nod. Pain was clawing its way from my leg to my hip, not to mention the ache from the scar slashed across my face. Experience told me it would only continue to get worse, eventually forcing me to take another pain pill, but I didn’t want to be in a drugged haze when I saw my brothers for the first time in almost a decade.

  She disappeared again, this time leaving Kara, who made a beeline for me. I propped myself up on my elbows so I could keep an eye on her, trying to find some resemblance to Creed. “You walk better than I do,” I told the toddler as she climbed on the bed, staring at me with huge brown eyes. “You don’t look like your momma or your daddy.”

  “Not true,” Jailbait crooned to the girl, plopping four pills and a bottle of water in my hand as she did. “You look like your momma.” My gaze drifted between the brown haired, brown eyed little girl and the blonde haired, green eyed spitfire my brother had apparently adopted.

  “Am I missing something?” I asked, throwing back the pills. “I thought she was yours.”

  “Nope,” Jailbait answered, shaking her head. “She’s Ronnie’s.”

  One of my eyebrows crept to my hairline as I studied the baby girl again. “She don’t look like Clutch,” I observed.

  “Yeah, not his either,” she replied, scooping little Kara off my bed as I forced myself to sit up.

  “Seriously?” I questioned, truly shocked. “God, he had the biggest crush on her. I figured they’d wind up together,” I mused, trying to ignore the pain throbbing through me.

  “Yeah, he’s still in love with her but she’s with some guy named Rob.”

  “That douche?”

  Laughter spilled from her lips, the sound almost making the pain fade. “I think everyone except Ronnie would agree with that assessment,” she answered ruefully. “But yeah, he’s Kara’s daddy. For what it’s worth.”

  “Used toilet paper,” I replied automatically and when she gave me a puzzled look I explained, “He’s worth about as much as used toilet paper.” Understanding dawned and she gave me an impish nod. I ran a hand over my head, the long strands feeling strange under my palm after so many years of being buzz cut. “What was your name? I can’t call you Jailbait,” I groused, trying to hide the fact that I had already begun to find myself being sucked in by her good nature.

  “Sloan,” she stated with an understanding smile. “You can call me Sloan.”

  “What are you doing with my brother, Sloan?” I asked, shifting and bit back a curse as agony shot through my leg. “You got a thing for bad boys?”

  “Nope,” she answered, shaking her head, her gaze faintly amused. “Just a certain overprotective asshole who saved my life.”

  My head jerked up at her answer, but she only gave me an enigmatic smile as she walked backwards to the door, the little girl on her hip. “You get some rest now. You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.” Her eyes glittered as my mouth dropped open and she pulled the door shut.

  I fell back on the bed, staring up at the underside of the stained mattress above my head and wondered what the hell I was doing here.

  “You have nowhere else to go, dumbass,” I whispered to myself, wincing at the harsh truth. My plan to be career military disappeared in a flash when I was wounded. Years of avoiding the faintest hint of settling down had meant the military had nowhere to send me except the one place I’d vowed never to return to.

  My eyes closed as pain burned through me and I welcomed it like an old friend, knowing it was nothing less than I deserved.

  ***

  Voices drifted into the room, and with a jolt, I realized I’d fallen asleep.

  “He’s here?”

  The man’s voice was familiar and I wondered what Clutch was doing here.

  “Yeah, he showed up a few hours ago,” Sloan replied, her tone lighter than it had been with me. “I put him in Crew’s old room.”

  “I thought he would have called. We would have picked him up,” was the reply, exasperation and an unexpected trace of hurt coating the words.

  “Creed,” Sloan murmured soothingly and I blinked, sitting up as I ran my tongue around my dry mouth. “He’s here. Let that be enough.” I shook my head as Clutch….Creed, I corrected myself, wondering when he’d started to sound so much like Clutch.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I just –” he stopped and I leaned forward, trying to hear, but he just let out a sigh. “How is he?”

  “Wounded,” she replied bluntly and I scowled. “Try not to run him off before you’ve made your peace,” she said simply and I heard the soft scuff of a shoe as she walked away.

  A light tap on the door followed by a questioning, “Cord?” forced me to move.

  “One second,” I answered gruffly, pulling myself to the edge of the bed and then gritting my teeth as I pushed myself up. My leg didn’t disappoint as fresh pain radiated through me. Once I was sure my leg would hold me, I told him, “Come in.”

  Chapter Two

  Tori

  I ignored the tremor in my hand as I tightened my grip on the crowbar I’d found a few months earlier. It had been a convenient weapon at the time, but had since become somewhat of a signature for me.

  “Brutal and useful,” I grunted, wedging it in the doorframe as I popped the lock. One last glance around revealed no one had suddenly appeared to stop me and I shook my head at their stupidity. I’d been following various dealers for weeks trying to discover where they kept their stash and it had finally paid off. Knowing this was where they kept their supply, I would have expected to find some muscle, not an easily jimmied lock and crickets chirping.

  I eased inside, my nose twitching at the acrid smell. They’d made a batch of meth, and recently, if the strong odor was anything to go by. Foil covered the windows, hiding their activities from any prying eyes. Not that it was likely anyone was about to come poking around the old trailer that had been abandoned years ago. It was set in the middle of the woods, out of sight of the road, and one of the many reasons it had taken me so long to discover it.

  I flicked my little penlight on and swept it around the room. A sharp hiss escaped me when I saw the shattered containers scattered around the room. They’d left in a hurry, which meant they weren’t coming back and I’d missed my chance.

  I barely refrained from slamming my crowbar against the wall in a fit
of fury, but I wasn’t stupid enough to chance an explosion. I made one more sweep of the room to see if they’d left anything that would tell me where they were going next, but the room was suspiciously absent of anything personal. They were getting smart or someone suspected I was onto them.

  I shrugged.

  Either way, I was going to dismantle their little enterprise.

  I walked back out, my boots clunking against the rotted boards of the porch as I fished my phone out of the back pocket of my worn jeans. I flipped it open, dialing the number from memory. I waited for the two rings and gruff, “Leave a message,” before I rattled off the location.

  “Hwy 440, two miles east of mile marker 17, one mile in,” I stated succinctly then thought to tack on, “Abandoned meth lab so don’t blow yourself up.” I flipped the phone shut, ending the call as I jumped off the edge of the porch, adrenaline still coursing through me, but nowhere for it to go. The fading light made it difficult to see anything, but I scanned the ground for possible clues anyway.

  I could always shake down one of the dealers I’d been following, but they’d gotten wise to me after I’d put the third one in the hospital. Luckily, none of them had been willing to admit they’d gotten their asses handed to them by a girl, so I still had that going for me. They were wary though and it was getting harder to catch one of them alone. It was getting to the point where I might have to use my…I cringed internally at even thinking it….feminine wiles.

  My lip curled at the thought, as I scratched my boob through the leather jacket I wore, the material chafing uncomfortably. I was tempted to take it off, but that would be asking for trouble. The leather material had saved me from a nasty knife wound more than once and I’d learned to leave it on.

  I sighed, ready to give up on this lost cause of a lead when something caught my eye. I leaned down, picking up the matchbook as I read, “Crazy Horse.” I tapped my finger against the worn lettering and flipped it over. Squinting, I made out a string of numbers which looked like a phone number. I pocketed the possible lead as my gaze drifted around the overgrown lot. Tire tracks had pressed some of the weeds down, but not enough to kill them entirely. They’d used the place but not for long, which meant they were moving more often. Something or someone was making them nervous and I could only hope it was me.