Owen: The Lost Breed MC #9 Read online

  “How are you liking living in the Big Apple so far?”

  “It’s good. Busy, but good.”

  “Do you think you’ll stay, or do you plan on going back to Chicago?”

  “Not sure yet,” I said. “I have a lot of time to decide.”

  “Well, if you ever want someone to take you out to some of the hot and up and coming places, you just give me a ring. I’ll show you a great time.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I would not be calling.

  I spotted my father at the opposite end of the pool. Praise the Lords. An escape.

  I slipped out of Emory’s reach. “I’m sorry, but I have to excuse myself. I’d like to speak to my father before his speech and wish him luck.”

  “Ah yes, go ahead. I’ll find you later.”

  “Wonderful,” I said, trying to disguise the sarcasm coloring my voice.

  “Oh, and Evangeline?”

  I turned back toward him and waited expectantly.

  “That dress,” he said, pressing his thumb and forefinger together to complete the gesture for ‘perfect’. “Magnificent.”

  I smiled but didn’t say anything before slipping through the throngs of people gathered around the pool. I made my way to the other end, apologizing as people were forced to get out of my way.

  The party was packed to max capacity. That was for sure.

  When I caught up to my father, he was entrenched in a conversation with two other men around his age. Standing in the circle but not saying a word was a handsome younger man, maybe four or five years my senior, who nodded at all the right times and was doing an exceptional job of looking interested.

  I put a hand on my father’s shoulder.

  He turned toward me and smiled wide when he saw me. “Eva.”

  His embrace was warm and firm, and he held on to me for a good ten seconds or so, making the other men in the circle wait on him. He stood back and cupped my cheek. “You look beautiful, my girl. When did you get here?”

  “About half an hour ago,” I said.

  “I’ve missed you terribly. The manor does not feel the same without you.”

  “I miss you too,” I said.

  He let his warm hand fall from my cheek and turned to the side to invite me into the circle. “Gentlemen, this is my daughter Evangeline. Eva, this is Wallace and his brother John. They have been big contributors to my Clear Ocean program.”

  I held out my hand, and they shook it. “Nice to meet you both.”

  Then my father turned toward the younger man who stood patiently beside me.

  “And this,” my father said, “is one of my partners at the company. Matthew Aero.”

  Matthew was the sort of man who stood out in a crowd. He had black hair, big dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and a strong jaw. His shoulders were broad, and his waist narrowed down, creating a dramatic V shape that would make most women swoon.

  He stood back a bit and held out his hand. His shake was firm and confident.

  “Evangeline,” he said in a deep, confident voice. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from your father over the last six months since you moved to New York. To say he misses you is a grand understatement.”

  “My father never stops missing me,” I said, shooting a look at my dad.

  My father laughed. “It’s true. I don’t. I wish you would live with me in the manor for forever. But at a certain point, a man needs to learn how to let go. You have a life to live, my dear. And you have a lot to offer. And there’s nobody I trust more than you to make sure things are running smoothly here in New York.”

  Matthew nodded at my drink. “Shall you and I go for a walk while these old timers talk business?”

  My father chuckled and waved us off. “Yes. Go. I only need a half hour or so, and then I’ll give my speech. And Eva, afterward, can we sit down and catch up somewhere? Please?”

  I put my hand on my father’s forearm. “Yes. I’ll find you.”

  He leaned in and kissed both of my cheeks before letting Matthew guide me away and around the outer edge of the pool. He walked slowly, mindful of the height of the shoes I had on, and then he nodded toward the bar as we walked past. “Are the drinks any good?”

  “My Manhattan isn’t bad,” I offered.

  “I might have to wander over later and treat myself. Once all the business talk is out of the way, of course.”

  “Of course. How long have you worked with my father?”

  “About four years? Yeah. That sounds right. He’s been a great mentor to me. I’ve learned a lot about myself in working for him, and I owe him a lot, if not all, of my success. He’s a great man. You’re lucky to have him as a father.”

  I agreed. I’d always had a good relationship with my dad. My mother died during childbirth, and he had a rough go of things for the first couple of years of my life. Like all expecting parents, he never dreamed he’d suddenly be widowed and a father all on one day.

  He had to adjust to his new reality alone. His sister Francine, my aunt, had stepped up to help and moved into the manor a week after I was born. Without her, both he and I would have been lost. She held his hand as he navigated his new role of fatherhood, and I ended up being his saving grace. At least, that was what he told me.

  “I owe him all of my success, too,” I said.

  “Then we are two peas in a pod.” Matthew grinned.

  He had a great smile.

  “Indeed,” I said, sipping my Manhattan.

  We completed a lap around the pool and then wandered off across the path that led through the gardens.

  “Forgive me for overstepping, but I have to ask,” Matthew said. “Do you enjoy events like this?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “All the stares you get. Does it get old?”

  “Very,” I said firmly.

  He chuckled. “I can imagine. I couldn’t help but notice that every pair of eyes was on you as we walked by the pool. These people are borderline obsessive, aren’t they?”

  “They are consumed with gossip, is what they are. They want to catch me making a mistake. And they want to be the one to tell all their friends about my misstep.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Snakes. So concerned with their social media feeds. Look at them. Selfies. Pictures of their food. Sheep. The lot of them.”

  I laughed, and he grinned at me, apparently pleased with his ability to make me laugh.

  “May I be forward with you, Evangeline?”

  “Please,” I said, enjoying his honest approach.

  “I haven’t spent much time in this city, and it looks like your father has plenty of work for me to do out here. I was wondering if I could take you for a drink and you could share some of your knowledge of New York City with me.”

  I finished my Manhattan. “Drinks sound lovely, Matthew.”

  Chapter 3

  Owen

  “Fucking hell,” I grumbled when the sunlight streaming through my windows woke me up on Saturday morning.

  The day after a tussle like the one I had at the pub last night was always the worst. My split lip was swollen and tender to the touch, and my forearms ached something fierce from protecting my face from Mr. Preppy’s friend’s fists.

  It was better my arms than my face though, and truth be told, this was the best kind of pain.

  I chuckled as I remembered the events of last night and the satisfaction of knocking those assholes flat on their asses. Quinn had left laughing as well. Like me, she was a bit of a daredevil, and she’d been more than happy to watch Liam and I teach those clowns a lesson.

  I rolled out of bed and checked the time on my phone. It was nearly nine o’clock. Damn. I’d slept late.

  With a groan followed by a yawn, I got to my feet and arched my spine as I stretched, reaching my arms over my head. My back cracked in several places, and I rolled my shoulders, shrugging away the tightness in my muscles as I made my way to the bathroom to have a hot shower.

&nb
sp; The steam and the hot water burned my lip.

  After I dried off, I brushed my teeth, which also burned my damn lip, and then went into the kitchen to have a quick bite to eat.

  By the time I headed into my garage, it was already twenty to ten.

  With fall upon us, I only had so many good riding days left, and I’d wanted to get out of here a little earlier to make the most of the day.

  I opened the garage door and rolled my bike out onto the driveway. She was an army-green Harley-Davidson Roadster XL1200CX Sportster with brass accents. We’d been through hell and back together, and when I considered selling her last year to buy something with a bit more speed, Rhys talked me out of it, telling me I would regret parting with a bike like this.

  He was right.

  She’d been with me through all the shit back in Chicago with Isaac Reed and our MC and their complete annihilation. Hell, I’d ridden her away from Max’s funeral and used the speed and sharp corners to take my mind off the fact that I’d just lost all my brothers.

  Just like that. Everything had changed.

  If it weren’t for Rhys, I wouldn’t have come out the other end alive. I’d have died in an alley somewhere after having the shit kicked out of me by a bunch of strangers in a fight I’d have undoubtedly started over something stupid.

  I called it recreational activity. Liam called it a suicide mission.

  And Rhys, wiser than the rest of us, told me it was my coping mechanism. And then he asked me to stop because he wouldn’t be able to bare losing another one of his brothers.

  I swung my leg over the seat and pulled my helmet on. I flipped the visor down, kicked up the kickstand with my heel, and played with the throttle. The engine rumbled and roared as if to tell the neighbors we were leaving, and I peeled out of the driveway, dragging the back tire across the asphalt as I skidded into the middle of the street, straightened out, and opened up on the throttle as I headed for busier streets with higher speed limits.

  It would take a good half hour to get out of the dense city and onto less busy, windy roads that were ideal for riding. I liked tight corners and long winding roads, and those were nonexistent in New York City. So I rode, and I rode hard.

  And while the wind roared over my shoulders and around my knees, I thought. As I always did when I rode.

  There was nobody in my life I was more grateful for than Rhys. He’d saved me when everyone else had practically thrown in the towel, and by that point, I believed myself to be a lost cause. I started shit everywhere I went, and I had a chip on my shoulder the size of the iceberg that sank that Titanic, and it was everyone else’s fault that my life had imploded so miserably.

  I’d been the same when I was young. In my early twenties, before Rhys ever found me and took me in, I’d been a hellion with a bad attitude and a thirst for danger. I’d spent some time in prison for petty theft and an armed robbery with a weapon that I did not use and did not intend to use. But I’d brought it with me nonetheless, and the two other kids I was with did not have the same plans. They brought crowbars and used them to destroy the store, scaring the shit out of the owner, who was on his hands and knees pleading for us to leave by the time we emptied his cash register.

  I still carried a lot of shame around with me for the decisions I made when I was young and stupid.

  Maybe it was guilt over what I’d done to other people. The fears I might have given them that they still had today. But I was also ashamed of what it cost myself.

  Life had been looking up for a while. I had a girl. I had Evangeline.

  I had the girl every man dreamed of, and I had all of her. Her heart and her body and her mind. She was quick as a whip, funny as hell, and a fighter inside and out. She was everything I ever dreamed of having in my life and everything I knew I was not good enough to have.

  But she loved me anyway. Until things went sideways.

  Then, understandably, she had to walk away from me and all my bullshit. As it was, she probably had no idea what had gone down with my MC and Isaac Reed. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know.

  I rode hard and fast for the entirety of the afternoon, soaking in the crisp sun and fresh air and dry, open roads. Soon, they would be slick with rain, which in turn would make the leaves that had fallen across the asphalt soggy as they began to rot, and those were terrible conditions for a motorcycle.

  I made my way back into the city around five in the evening. My stomach was growling, my ass was asleep, and my knees ached something terrible. It was all worth it.

  Without intending to, I ended up on Rhys and Quinn’s street, and I decided to pull into their driveway and pop in to say hello.

  I got off the bike, hung my helmet on the handlebars, and waddled up to the front door, nursing my right ass cheek as it came to life with sharp pins and needles that made me wince with every second step.

  What they said was right. Eventually, you got old enough to start noticing the strain riding put on your body.

  My ass was coming back to life when I knocked on Rhys and Quinn’s front door, and Quinn pulled it open within thirty seconds or so. She folded her arms over her chest and popped out her right hip to lean it against the doorframe.

  “Why hello there, troublemaker.”

  “Hey, Quinn.” I grinned, stretching the cut on my bottom lip. “I was out for a ride and passing through. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

  She pulled the door open the rest of the way and straightened out. “Come on in. Rhys is in the kitchen. Have you eaten yet?”

  “No, haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”

  “It’s five-thirty,” she said, clearly unimpressed with me.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want to waste time on a day like this. I wanted to be out on the road.”

  She rolled her eyes, and I followed her down the hallway to the kitchen, where Rhys was leaning over the stove, stirring the contents of something in a large pot on a backburner. He had his back to me and was wearing a plaid shirt, black jeans, and slippers.

  Quinn sure had domesticated his ass.

  I whistled. “Lookin’ good, boss. All that’s missing is a frilly little apron.”

  Quinn giggled at Rhys’s expense and went to her man, rubbing his back as she winked at me. “There’s nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen, Owen.”

  “Really? That’s good news for me then. I make a mean bowl of ramen noodles.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “From scratch?”

  “Is that what they call it when it comes in those little plastic bags?” I asked.

  Quinn laughed and shook her head at me. Rhys put the lid back on the pot he’d been stirring. He turned toward me with a lopsided grin. “Hey, man. There’s plenty of food. Want to crash for dinner? It’ll be better than noodles in a bag. I swear.”

  “I have nowhere to be.”

  “No bar fights to get to?” Quinn asked, a hint of judgment coloring her tone.

  I waved my hand, aware of both of their steady gazes on me. “Nah. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, lovebirds. I’m not going back to my old ways. It was just one little skirmish. Besides, those boys were asking for it, weren’t they Quinn?”

  “Most definitely,” she agreed.

  “Thanks for stepping in Owen,” Rhys said. “I wish I’d been there to even the odds. But I suppose you and Liam didn’t really need a third man. You handled yourselves.”

  “Let’s be real.” I smirked. “I didn’t even need Liam’s help.”

  “Ever so modest,” Quinn said, shaking her head at me as she went to the fridge and opened it with a tug. She grabbed a beer and held it up. “Owen?”

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  Quinn grabbed two more beers, popped the tops off them, and handed one to me and Rhys before lifting her own to her lips and taking a sip.

  Rhys went about finishing off dinner, and within another fifteen minutes, everything was ready, and we were all gathered in front of the stove with bowls in our hands, waiting to get our se
rving.

  Rhys had prepared rice as well as some sort of stew. It looked good and smelled even better, like onions, ginger, pepper, and spices. My mouth was watering as I carried my bowl and my beer to the table in the kitchen and sat down across from Quinn, who had a spoonful of stew held in front of her to blow on it.

  Steam wavered up into the air in front of her face. Rhys sat down at the head of the table and told us to dig in.

  My first bite was scalding hot, and I fanned my mouth while the two of them chuckled unabashedly at my misery. I soothed my burning tongue with my beer and waited for my food to cool—which took some effort because I was absolutely famished.

  “Have you talked to Ryder recently?” I asked, trying to distract myself while I waited for my stew to be eating temperature.

  Rhys shrugged. “A week ago, or so. He and Dani are doing well. She’s back to work, and the little one is home with Ryder most days, and they’re looking into possible daycare options.”

  “Never thought Ryder would trust strangers with his child,” I mused.

  Rhys nodded his agreement. “Me neither. But at a certain point, you gotta lean on others for help. I think he’s found some solace in Axel and Ellie. They’ve been there to help him, and Dani navigate this whole parenting business.”

  “Sounds like a fucking nightmare,” I said.

  Quinn sipped her beer. “That’s because you don’t like kids. You’re biased.”

  “Biased? No. Smart. The word you’re looking for is smart, Quinn.”

  She tried to hide her smile. “You’d be great with kids, Owen.”

  “Or he’d beat the shit out of them when they spoke out of turn,” Rhys said.

  Chapter 4

  Evangeline

  The silk of my shimmery white robe was soft against my freshly moisturized skin as I tied it around my waist. My bathroom mirrors were still fogged from my shower, but I could tell my hair was a wild mess when I took it out of its shower cap.

  My hairdresser was coming over later this morning to give me a fresh cut and a blowout, so I didn’t see any sense in taking the time to wash and condition my locks in the shower. I pinned it all up on top of my head, getting annoyed with the shorter layered strands that fell out of the clip and pinning them back with a couple of bobby pins.