Claiming Crusher (Savage Brothers MC #4)(94)

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Remember Me




Gods of Chaos MC

By: Honey Palomino





Chapter One


Ryder


We’re not called the

Gods of Chaos for nothing.

The glare of the streetlights hit the chrome on my bike as I turned off the freeway and onto the unpaved road that led to my clubhouse. Dirt flew up on both sides of my thick tires. My headlight cast shadows of the tall, towering pine trees of the Tillamook Forest across the road; the only thing lighting my way through the heavy darkness of the woods. Five curvy miles later, I was separated from all civilization, and the familiar peacefulness washed over me.

I was home. I was right where I belonged. I might have outgrown all the partying a little over the years, but it was all I had ever known. That life out there? Away from the clubhouse? I didn’t belong there. I never had, and I never would.

As I roared up to the rundown cabin, the never-ending party was at its peak. Deafeningly loud music poured from the open doors and windows, and a glowing amber light spilled onto the dirty bikes parked out front. Each person that trailed in and out of the door had a drink in their hand and most had a smile on their face. The women all had a wiggle in their step, as they sashayed past leather-clad, drunken hell-raisers, flirtatiously batting their eyes and swinging their voluptuous hips.

The sun had set, and just like it did every night, the wildness began seeping out into the darkness at the God of Chaos MC Clubhouse like a slithering, evil snake.


In the corner of the parking lot, a circle had formed around Riot and Slade, two of the Gods. They were in their usual fighting stance, playing a game they both seemed to enjoy immensely, for whatever perverted reason. Both shirtless, their dirty jeans and boots were the only protection that stood between their flesh and the ground, or each other’s fists.

Slade was bleeding through his grin, while Riot danced around him, trying to get another hit in before Slade knocked him out. Slade always won. I didn’t bother to keep watching, because it always played out the same way. Slade would knock him out, then pick him up and take him inside and pour whiskey down his throat till he shook it off and they laughed about it into the early morning hours. They were both more than a little crazy, but I loved them.

Near the window to the right of the front door, I saw Zander, my VP. His old lady, Valerie, was on her knees, servicing him with a vigor that almost made me envious. I laughed when he caught my eye and winked at me as I pulled off my helmet and parked my bike. He gave me a thumbs up as I strode past him, shaking my head with a smile as he buried his hands in his old lady’s black curls and looked up at the shining stars sprinkled in the sky above us.

The sound of breaking glass and a string of words that would have made a sailor blush echoed out the window on the other side of the front door.

As I approached the door, I ducked just in time to miss the flying beer bottle that escaped from the doorway, followed by Thorn, our prospect, – one hand gripping his girlfriend Tiff’s ass, and the other outstretched and reaching for a wall to steady them both on. His hand missed by two inches, and they both tumbled to the ground in front of me, their tongues still firmly tangled together.

I stepped over them, picked up the surprisingly still intact beer bottle, and headed towards the bar to find a fresh one for myself.

This place was hardly what any normal person would consider peaceful. But that was just it. It wasn’t normal.

And my brothers here? The outliers? The fringe of society? The partiers? The survivors? They weren’t normal, either.

All we knew was chaos. The only way we knew how to live was on the edge.

We were born in it. We were raised in it.

It defines our very existence in this world.

Hell, every day we continue to create it, just by being alive.

We’re the Gods of Chaos.

And we love every f*cking chaotic second of it.





Chapter Two


Grace


Do you ever wish you could change the channel on your past? Give yourself a whole new identity, and lay down the unfortunate baggage you were assigned to carry into your future?

You do your best to leave it behind, but the memories stay with you. Indelible. Unforgettable. Unforgivable.

The best thing you can do is carry on and figure out how to cope when the memories sneak up on you unexpectedly. I should know. I’ve tried everything to forget. I’ve turned my back on the places, the people, the pain. But it’s always there. Lingering, like a disease.

You can’t pick where you came from.

But, eventually, when you get old enough, you can choose where you’re headed.

And that’s what I did. As soon as I could, I left all the dysfunction of my family behind, and I ran towards my future.

Unfortunately, it stays with you, and you quickly learn you can’t forget it, no matter how much you try. If I couldn’t forget, as much as I wanted to, I could use the past and everything I survived to make a new life of my own, and hopefully save some others in the process.

My name is Grace. Grace Evans. I used to be Grace Faith Taylor. But I escaped that life, and changed my name. Unlike a lot of people with similar histories, I was able to get out alive.

The key to surviving was simply leaving. As long as I wasn’t around my family, I was safe. It was the opposite of how it was supposed to be. I didn’t have a normal home.