Sufferance (The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 4) Read online

  K E Osborn

  Sufferance

  The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 4

  K E Osborn

  Copyright 2019 K E Osborn

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  There is content within this book that may set off triggers click here for help.

  ISBN: 978-0648112389

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  Cover Image Copyright 2019

  All rights reserved

  We were destined.

  But time and fate are not on our side.

  My president—her blood brother.

  My patch—so close I can taste it.

  Yet, I have to choose. Is there really a choice?

  My club or the girl.

  This woman shines brightly. She's adored, worshiped, and cherished by everyone, not only me. I'm just the unlucky prospect who fell for her.

  But we're complicated. I want my patch, but I can't have her and it at the same time.

  This story isn't only about a man fighting to have both—it’s secrets, battles, defection, and scandal.

  Betrayal—it’s imminent.

  How will we deal with our sufferance?

  To the little sisters.

  Who are constantly safeguarded by their big brothers.

  Who are always told that no one is good enough.

  Follow your heart, because true love, is worth the fight.

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my mother, Kaylene Osborn, for her work as my editor. You have worked with me to make Sufferance the best it can be. Thank you for working with me not only as my editor but as my mother. You know when to put on each hat equally and pull me from my ruts. I couldn’t do this without you.

  To Cindy/Thia – Thank you for coming into my life. This series just wouldn’t be the same without you. I’ve learned so much from you, (not just the Americanisms lol) but different writing techniques as well. I’m so lucky to have you on my team and as a friend.

  To Diana – I’m so lucky to have you on my team. Every comment, every piece of feedback I’ve received from you is always constructive and made with love. You’re probably the only person I know who can tell me something isn’t working right but in the absolute nicest way imaginable. I love you for it. Every idea you give me, every nuance you pick up, is perfect. Thank you!

  To Kim B – Holy cow, I’m so glad you live where you do! I get all my inside information on Chicago from you lol. All the little things I miss, all the details I couldn’t possibly know, they’re all picked up by you. You’re a fantastic beta, and I’m so happy to have you on my team! Thank you so much for everything.

  To Carol – I need a stock-standard message to go in here for you now. A simple copy and paste, trying to think of something different each time is hard work! Lol. But you know what you mean to me. I think back to when my journey began, to who has been with me from the start, and only one name I can ever think of, it’s yours. Friend doesn’t seem to fit the bill… you’re my book family!

  To Amanda and Debb – my two newbie betas, thank you for taking a chance on a simple author like me. Your input and ideas have been outstanding. Your help and guidance has been hugely appreciated, and I’m so grateful to have added you both to my wonderful team!

  To all of my awesome beta readers – Thank you for once again putting your thoughts into this book. I appreciate all of your energy and ideas, and together we make a great team. Without you beautiful ladies, this book wouldn’t be at its best potential. So thank you, every single one of you.

  To Nicki – Thank you for always putting in such a great job in these books. Your proofing work is outstanding. I love how you pick up on everything I miss. I look at your comments and giggle at myself and how I could have missed some of the things I do, so thank you for always being on the ball! I’d be lost without you!

  To Jane – Thank you for all that you do. You lift me up when I’m down. You help me when I need a hand. You’re the Sponge Bob to my Plankton. In the words of Jerry Maguire, ‘You complete me.’ Nah, not really, that’s too sappy, but I sure do love the hell out of you, boo.

  To Kellie – I know I can be a pain in the ass, but I like to think that we make a good team. You make some of the most amazing covers, and I like to think mine are up there in that list. Thank you for always nailing mine.

  To my beautiful, playful, and utterly adorable pup, Bella. I love you more than words can say. You’re my inspiration, my motivation, and my light. You make every day better. I love you puppy dog.

  Last of all, I want to thank YOU, the reader. Your continued support of my writing career is both humbling and heartwarming. I adore my readers so much, and honestly, couldn’t keep going without the love and support you all show me each day. Thank you for believing in me, and I hope I can keep you entertained for many, many years to come.

  Much love,

  K E Osborn

  Below is a list of terms used in this book, including Australian-isms for your convenience.

  Any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the author.

  Back Door – The last rider in a group ride. Customarily, the most experienced motorcycle rider.

  Cut – Vest with club colors

  Front Door – First rider in a group ride.

  Hammer Down – Accelerate quickly.

  Hurrah – Hubbub; commotion; fanfare. A colorful or tumultuous event; spectacle or celebration.

  Blokes – Bloke is simply a British slang term for 'man/guy', with perhaps slight connotations of masculinity and used only in an informal setting.

  Flamin’ Mongrels – An expression used to show one’s disdain for another, or in other contexts, a sense of frustration.

  Bloody – A swear word that is used to emphasize a comment or an angry statement. Don't be such a bloody fool. That was a bloody good meal!

  Kiddo – You can call someone kiddo, especially someone who is younger than you, as a sign of affection.

  1% Patch – The 1% patch is designed to instill fear in the general public. It’s generally centered on a set of ideals which celebrate freedom, non-conformity to mainstream culture, and loyalty to the bike club. (The American Motorcycle Association stated that 99% of the bikers at their events were God fearing and family orientated. The other 1% were hard riding, hard partying, non-mainstream type people. Thus, the term 1% was born.)

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Note to the Reader

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

&nb
sp; 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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  More Books To Check Out

  Playlist

  Connect With Me Online

  About the Author – K E Osborn

  TREMOR

  The power of a gun always makes me feel at home. The strength it embraces. The way you can hold a life in your hands, take a life if it comes down to it. A gun can do so much. I’ve grown up with guns my entire life. They’re a part of me. Like a second skin.

  The Glock draws back, recoiling in my hand as the bullet shoots from the chamber with a harsh blast. My face alights in satisfaction, a loud ting sounds as the bullet crashes into the beer can forcing it to fly off the wall buffeting it across the concrete.

  “Yee-ha, motherfucker. You get it every… single… fucking… time!” Zane, my fellow prospect, calls out as he throws his hands in the air.

  Smirking, I flick the safety on my gun and shove it in the back of my jeans while watching his face fall in disappointment.

  “Naw c’mon, brother, don’t tell me we’re done for the day? You were only just getting warmed up?”

  Pulling out my pack of cigarettes from my jacket, I also draw out my lighter, the silver of the metallic texture cold to the touch as I glance at the skull protruding from the side. I had a single ‘D’ engraved in the forehead to honor my club.

  Defiance means everything to me, as does family. Someone close bought me this lighter, so having my family and club represented on this one small object means more to me than I care to admit. But to me, this lighter represents more than just something to light my fucking cigarettes.

  Flicking the lid, I roll the starter, it sparks and an amber flame flickers in the warm summer breeze. Pulling in a long draw, the hint of nicotine hits my lungs. Instantly, I’m feeling more relaxed. It’s a bad habit—I know. But I started young, when I was only fourteen, and having a habit for nine years makes it a fucking difficult one to break.

  Showing off, I puff out a couple of smoke rings followed by a long white cloud of smoke. Shrugging my shoulders, I answer, “There is such a thing as saving ammo, you know, Zane?”

  He stifles a laugh as he walks over picking up the can I blew the hole right through. He lines it up to his sight, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat. “At least we’re aiming at something. I’m getting antsy. Our turf war with the Andrettis over, the Yakuza are out of our lives, and nothing on the horizon, I’m trigger happy. Plus, those fucking babies crying all the time is making me want to shoot something, you hearing me?” His eyes narrow, and I can’t help but laugh.

  Trax, our VP, and his Old Lady had a set of twins over two months ago. With them living in the clubhouse, it’s taken a bit of getting used to around here. They’ve tried to soundproof their room—one baby is loud enough, they have two—and when one starts bawling, the other likes to harmonize with it. Guess they’re in sync with each other.

  Don’t get me wrong, they’re cute little fuckers and everyone loves them, it’s just a change for this club. We’re not used to having little shit-kickers around, that’s all.

  “I hear you, but you should be thankful nothing’s happening right now. Gives you time to work on your aim,” I tease as I look to the three beer cans he aimed at—all missed targets.

  He groans shoving me to the side. “Shut up, cockhead, just ‘cause you have precision aim.” He scrubs his hands through his hair. “There’s a tailwind and shit… give a man a break.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Do you mean headwind? A tailwind should help you, dipshit. But in your case, I’m not sure.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Hawkeye.”

  Taking another drag of my smoke, I glance toward the clubhouse to see Mylee, or as we now call her Sparx, walking outside with one of the babies attached to her in one of those baby carrier things you strap to your chest. My jaw clenches as I notice next to her, with the other baby strapped to her slim but toned body, is Neala. Her stunning long, chocolate brown hair flowing down her back in soft waves, the way her small lips turn up into delicate peaks, perfect to fucking kiss, against her pale face, her cute as fuck little-upturned button nose, the woman is flawless. Seeing her with a baby attached to her is doing fucking weird-ass shit to me. My president’s not-so-little sister should be out of bounds. Hell, she pretty much is, but I crossed a line with her, and now shit’s strained with us. Neala’s the most fucking frustratingly stubborn woman I know. It’s what drew me to her in the first place. The way she challenges her brothers, it always makes me smile. This tiny thing, so full of life, so full of vigor, standing up to the president and vice president of a biker club like it means nothing.

  Girl’s got balls, I’ll give her that.

  It had mine tingling before I even registered what was happening.

  I caught her eye too. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea. Suddenly, she was talking to me, and I was standing around like a stunned fucking mullet not knowing how to react to my president’s sister. Next thing I know she’s growing into herself. I’m getting deeper into the club, and then one night we’re at the rear of the clubhouse grinding up against the fucking wall.

  I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. The chemistry between us has always been off the damn charts, and it still fucking is, but there’s one point that never changes.

  She’s my president’s little fucking sister.

  And I’m still to gain my patch.

  If I want it, I can’t fuck around with the club princess. Getting this patch means everything to me. So, if I have to sit back watching Lala from the shadows like some fucking creeper, then so be it. If I get kicked out of the club because of her brother, my president, not wanting us to be together, I won’t get to see her at all. So, at least this way I get to be around her. Even if I’m not with her, I can still watch over her, protect her, keep my eye on her, and maybe gain my patch.

  I’d rather not have her and be able to keep her safe, than be out of the club and never be able to see her again. That thought cripples me. The idea of never seeing her beautiful face—I can’t even comprehend it. So, I deal with the cards I’ve been dealt. I may not have the girl, but at least I can keep her secure and out of harm’s way. Plus, there’s too much tension between us now. We’re too fucked up to go back to how we were. Hell, I don’t think we can even be friends at this point.

  The clicking of fingers in front of my face makes me jolt back as Zane chuckles. “Fucking hell, man, you need to pull your shit together. If Torque saw you checking out his sister with those puppy dog eyes—”

  “Shut up, man,” I groan out pushing past him in annoyance as I head toward my ride.

  Zane chuckles following me but catches up quickly. “Look, keep playing it cool, and we should have our patches soon. I mean we’ve been here for ages, we’re owed them by now. Then you can think about what you want to do with this fucking infatuation you have.”

  “We aren’t owed our patches, Zane, you earn them. Fuck! Have you learned nothing in the time you’ve been here?” I ask while striding past Sparx and Neala. My skin prickles as I try my hardest not to look at her, but our eyes lock for the briefest of moments. Warmth floods over me.

  I want to stop.

  I want to smother her in my comfort.

  I want to tell her how fucking
amazing she looks holding a newborn.

  But I don’t.

  I keep walking, breaking eye contact and storm toward my ride.

  Zane keeps his pace with me, letting out a heavy sigh. “So, I guess you’re going to go see Chloe again?” he asks.

  I risk a peek over to Neala who’s trying unsuccessfully to look like she isn’t glancing my way.

  “Yeah, haven’t been in a couple of days, so I need to make an appearance.”

  Zane chuckles, flicking his hand while making a snapping sound with his mouth. “Somebody’s cracking the whip. She’s got you locked down tight.”

  I slide on the back of my ride, taking one last look at Lala, then throw my cigarette to the ground. “Well, at least someone is… I’ll see you later.” I pull my helmet over my head, then start up my ride. My engine revs hard as I see Neala watching me closely. I hammer down, pulling out of the clubhouse to see Chloe. To escape the gorgeous green eyes looking at me like she’s ashamed I’m leaving again. I hate the look she gives me every time I leave to see Chloe.

  But it’s better this way.

  Neala needs to let me go.

  I just have to find a way to fucking let her go too.

  NEALA

  Sparx’s stare is grating on my nerves as I try to play it off like I’m unaffected by Tremor leaving yet again. For the past two months, he’s been coming and going like a man committed.

  It bugs me.

  I know it shouldn’t.

  We’re not anything.

  We never really were, so he doesn’t have to answer to me.

  But it still stings, nonetheless.

  “You know, you could talk to him once in a while?” Sparx places a pacifier into Grace’s mouth as she continues to cry in her arms.

  I bop up and down trying to rock Rix to sleep and eventually he drifts off against my chest. “I know, but it’s not that easy. Tremor’s so closed off from me.” I shrug, the tension rolling through my muscles. “I don’t think we’ll ever get back to a good place. The guy’s scared.”