Dark Fall (Back Down Devil MC #3)

Dark Fall (Back Down Devil MC #3)

London Casey & Karolyn James




DARK FALL


A Back Down Devil MC Novel

Kaity Parkner is on the run and the last person she expects to help her is a shady looking biker. Little does she know, her protection will cost her a bullet wound, a car explosion, and the fight of her life.

Erik thinks about taking his own life every single day he's alive. The only thing stopping him is the determination to find the people responsible for the bombing that covered his face in hideous scars. When Erik begins digging around, the last person he expects to meet is a beautiful woman that he stupidly promises to protect.

From the first second Kaity looks at him, he can't believe that she is looking at him... and not his scars. However, the club is Erik's life and Kaity has been invited in, but her confession forces the club to put her trust to the test... Back Down Devil MC cannot afford to have a rat amongst them.

With no other choice, Kaity puts herself in the crosshairs of a major war.

Will her years of experience give the club enough time to find their answers or will unexpected secrets get them all killed?





one.



A single pull of a trigger could simply change everything.

That was the first and hardest lesson Erik learned when he moved up in the rank of Back Down Devil MC. A single pull of a trigger could initiate a war. A single pull of a trigger could end a war. Or in Erik’s case, a single pull of a trigger could end a painful mistake that he would have to face if he stayed alive.

Surviving an explosion maybe gave him serious credit within the MC, and with plenty of women willing to ease his pain in any way he wanted, but deep inside, Erik was extremely pissed off at the fact that he was suffering even though he wasn't the intended target. The bomb was meant for Shay and as of now the club still had no idea who ordered the hit. Erik was actually thankful that he had hit his head so hard and was able to forget the bombing itself. But now and forever, the scars on Erik’s face would be his memory of that day.

Erik sat on his bed, shirtless, his hands balled into fists. He looked down at his tattooed biceps, his chest, and his stomach. Spending so much time in the hospital made him weak. He needed to get into the gym and tear the f*cking place apart. It seemed like the only way to take care of the urge that he couldn't shake.

Erik looked up and caught just a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Even then he could see the scars. If he touched his face, his fingers jumped over the scars. If anyone looked at him, they saw scars and then Erik. Even the guys in the MC. And whether they meant to or not, it pissed Erik off every time it happened.

There’s one way to do this. To solve this. To erase all this.

It wasn’t just about finding who had hurt Erik. That task was going to be daunting, which was proven by the kidnapping and torture of Jonesy. The MC had hired him to track down whoever put the bomb in Shay’s car. Now, Jonesy's finger rested in the middle of the table in the meeting room. The finger was simply a warning. A silent threat of power.

Erik looked to his right at the handgun that lay there. One simple squeeze of the trigger and it would all come to an end. There was no honor in dying by suicide within a club, but considering Erik’s circumstances and all he had done for Back Down Devil, he believed they would make an exception to the rule. He wasn’t some guy going off the edge or killing himself with pills and booze. This was real pain and real anger. The kind that could only be stopped with a gun.

It had been days since Erik had a full night of sleep. It was more of a series of naps, during which he would wake to his gun tempting him over and over. Out in the clubhouse, nobody knew what really went through Erik’s head. There was enough shit going on in the MC and the last thing Miller and Gaige needed was to be on suicide watch over Erik.

Plus, up until now he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet.

Fucking *.

Erik closed his eyes and swallowed. In his mind he heard the explosion. That sickening boom followed by a sense of free falling. Then the hard thud and nothing. That’s all it was in his mind, simply a soundtrack to living, almost dying, and now being stuck between living and dying.

This was not a life to be lived. Without retaliation, there was no purpose.

A single pull of a trigger could retaliate.

Erik believed that his death by his own hands would force the club to up the level of urgency to retaliate and defend their own. Whether it be local enemies like Eight Under or Coast Road, or something worse, the MC would avenge Erik’s death the proper way. The way they couldn’t do now because Erik was alive. His scars didn’t even piss the guys off anymore. They were treated as a testament of Erik's strong will.

It wasn’t will that kept Erik alive after the explosion. That was doctors and nurses doing their f*cking jobs for their f*cking paychecks. If they left Erik to bleed out on the ground, that would have been the test of will.

Erik reached for the gun. He held it in his hand and nodded.

Today was a good to do it.

Just pull that f*cking trigger, brother. Come on… do it…

There was a whiskey bottle on the nightstand, along with pills. Those two could make the decision easier. But Erik preferred that the guys find the pills and the full bottle and know that he was clear headed when he made this decision.

Erik stood up and turned around. He wouldn’t look himself in the mirror while he did it. He licked his lips and felt his heart pounding in his chest. It was okay to feel a little nervous right now. His brains were soon going to be splattered across the f*cking room.