Authors: Jenika Snow
Evernight
Publishing
®
Copyright©
2014
Jenika
Snow
ISBN: 978-1-77130-988-2
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor:
Karyn
White
ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
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KINK’S WAY
The Brothers of Menace MC, 2
Jenika
Snow
Copyright ©
2014
Chapter One
Trash.
Slut.
Whore.
Those names had been thrown around so many times in
Cookie’s life that they blended together. She absorbed them, had believed in
them for a very long time, but anymore she was just living from day to day. She
could remember bits and pieces of her life as a little girl, not much, but
enough that she remembered her mother sleeping with men right on the couch.
Cookie would be watching blurry cartoons on a television that was on its last
leg, hearing the gruesome sounds, but trying to act like she didn’t know what
was happening. Her father had been a bad man, done things she hadn’t liked, and
when he had left she had felt this relief. And then her mother had died when
she was fifteen and she was left in the care of an aunt who didn’t want her and
an uncle who had been just as vile as her father. Her mother hadn’t been
anything special, and her death had just been another death that meant nothing
to Cookie. To say Cookie’s life had been a nightmare was an understatement, but
she had prevailed, and fought every day to live. But of course when life
started to look up the other shoe dropped, and her horrible life had gotten far
worse.
She closed her eyes as the memories of her past, of
a time when she was nothing more than a plaything, washed through her. When she
opened her eyes again she was no longer in her past. Standing in front of the
small sink and mirror at the bathroom in The Brothers of Menace clubhouse,
Cookie forced herself to look at her reflection. She had her reddish hair
pulled in a loose ponytail, but maybe having her hair away from her face wasn’t
the best idea. She could only see her flaws, the ones she tried to hide in her
mind. Dark circles were under her light blue eyes, and a light smattering of
freckles was across the bridge of her nose. She trailed her gaze lower until
she was looking at her body, which was too thick for her comfort. Despite the
feelings she had about her appearance, and the voices in her head from her
mother telling her she was ugly and worthless, Cookie accepted who and what she
was.
Bailey Marie Smith.
She hadn’t called herself that name in a very long
time, and honestly it didn’t even feel like it was hers anymore. The name
“Cookie” was something she had created as a little girl, because cookies were
sweet and everyone wanted one. But the kind of attention Cookie had gotten was
far from what she wanted.
Bracing her hands on the sink, she took a deep
breath. She needed to get back out to the bar and serve the guys. There were a
few regular girls that stayed with the club, and had been with them before The
Brothers had taken Cookie and the rest of the girls from Denver in. There
seemed to be so much going on around her that at times she felt as though she
was pushing against water. The women Cookie had been with in Denver, the
prostitutes who had been beaten by a pimp that was crazed and high, were trying
to rebuild their lives. Instead of staying in a cabin that the club had set up
for them, thinking about everything that had happened, and what could still
happen, Cookie had decided to go back out into the world. She worked for the
club, trying to keep herself busy, keep her mind occupied, and also thank the
club in any small way she could for saving her life.
Working at their club in River Run was what
she could do now, and she hoped that they saw she was trying to move on. She
wanted to keep her mind off of everything that had happened, and the best way
to do that was to immerse
herself
in work.
She looked at the closed bathroom door, and could hear
the music and male laughter on the other side. She had only been with The
Brothers for the last couple of weeks, mainly helping behind the bar and
occasionally cooking meals for them. But she usually just made sure they stayed
drunk, and let Tatum, the clubhouse den mother of sorts, cook all the meals.
She stared at herself in the mirror again, breathed out, and then washed her
hands. No use in staying in the bathroom thinking about her crummy past.
But what would they think if they knew what really
happened to her? The club members weren’t saints in any sense, but then again
being sold by her uncle to a pimp, and then becoming that man’s whore, was
probably not something they really cared much to know. She had been disgusted
with herself for a very long time, but when a person had nothing to start with,
and then suddenly was lavished with beautiful things and affection until they
were drowning in it, it was hard for them not to latch onto that. And that was
exactly what she had done with Morris.
Even thinking his name
made her stomach clench in disgust.
First she had been sold for nothing more than some
eight balls of coke and a couple hundred dollars at the tender age of
seventeen, and then she had been sold again by Morris when she turned
twenty-one.
It was like some kind of sick joke played on her.
She had lived the life of wealth with Morris, that disgusting sadist who had
only been concerned about himself. And when he told her he wanted a younger,
prettier version of her, he’d sold her to some rundown pimp that had beaten her
and the handful of girls The Brothers of Menace had rescued. As bad as all of
that had been, she knew it could have gotten worse. She hadn’t been with the
pimp who had abused them longer enough to be tricked out, so she was at least
thankful for that part. But as sad as it all sounded, Cookie was glad that
everything had happened the way it had. Because if she hadn’t lived this life
she wouldn’t be free right now and actually planning on something more in her
future than lying on her back with her legs spread and praying for death.
She opened the bathroom door, shut off the light,
and put on her façade that showed that she was okay, and that she was this
tough as nails bitch. She supposed in some ways that was accurate, but maybe that
was because she had lived with that falseness her entire life, and it was like
she was living the lie.
The main room where The Brothers of Menace hung out
was this massive great room with timber detail, a beautiful loft above, and had
been converted to have every amenity the guys needed to let loose. A pool
table, huge bar that wrapped around one side of the wall, several pub style
tables, and even a stripper pole had been added. She had seen a lot of shit
growing up, most of it she would have preferred to forget, so seeing women
wearing hardly anything, grinding on metal poles, and even sucking the bikers’
cocks wasn’t really a shock. Hell, she had done worse things than that—or had
been made to do worse things than that in her time with Morris.
She stepped behind the bar and looked around the
room. It was a Saturday night, and judging by the easiness and drama-free
atmosphere, she would take a good guess that the guys were in a good mood. It
wasn’t like they didn’t do this kind of stuff on a regular basis, but when they
were stressed, or there was some kind of drama happening, Cookie could feel it
in the air. It was like this dark, inky substance that covered her skin.
She saw the club members named Rock and Ruin over by
the pool table, and the President of this MC, Lucien, sitting in front of the
stripper pole. Lucien was watching one of the women shaking her ass in front of
him, and then she bent down and grabbed her ankles, clearly giving him a shot
of her crotch. Lucien reached out and smacked her on the ass, and the smile
that spread across the club pussy’s face told Cookie that she wanted Lucien to
do more than that. A few of the other guys were
at a
table playing cards, and Cookie turned her attention away from all of it and
focused on the liquor bottles lining the back of the bar. But there was one
biker that she hadn’t seen when looking around the room, a man that she had
felt this weird charge of electricity move through her when she had first seen
him all those weeks ago … Kink. He was the Vice President of The Brothers, and
he always had this hard, unforgiving demeanor. It was one that frightened her
and made her think of all the horrible men that had been in her life, simply
because he looked like he was detached and didn’t care about anything. But she
knew that he was nothing like those bastards that had hurt her in the past. He
may come off as cruel, not caring, and ready to beat someone’s ass, but she had
also heard that he had a daughter, one he loved very much. If someone could
feel love, then they were not bad, and she could see that under that hard
exterior, Kink was a good man, even if he was covered in tattoos and could kill
a man with his bare hands.