Axel: Blacktop Renegades (BRMC Book 1)
Axel
Blacktop Renegades
BRMC – Book 1
Author: Chelsea Handcock
www.chelseahandcock.com
Copyright © 2020, Chelsea Handcock
First electronic publication: September 2020
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted works is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
Note from the Author: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
Editor – Sandy Ebel, Personal Touch Editing
Cover Designer – Michelle RLS Sewell
Cover Model – Nathan Hainline
Formatting – Tracie Douglas, Blackwater Covers
Axel Daye, as the Vice President of the Blacktop Renegades, the club and his duties have become his life since leaving the service and his fiancé dumping him. Circumstances beyond either of their control force them back together, but Axel is still drawn to her and doesn’t know if he wants a future or just wants to get her out of his system—once and for all.
London Harris gets thrown into a world she never wanted, becoming a pawn for the Cartel’s deadly game of revenge. Hurt, scared, and determined, she decides to live whatever life she has left on her terms, no one else’s. Protecting the ones, she loves is her only goal, but the only way for her to buy the time she needs is to count on the man she left behind.
Can Axel and London get over past hurts and present obstacles, so one day, they can be together? Or will they crash and burn? Join Axel and London on the adventure of a lifetime.
Welcome to the Blacktop Renegades. This book can be read as a standalone, although many of the characters featured have been mentioned in the Ruthless Bastards MC series. To get full enjoyment, it is suggested you read in series order, starting with Whiskey: RBMC Book 1.
Content Warning: Explicit love scenes and naughty language. Intended for mature audiences.
Blacktop Renegades
BRMC – Book 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
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
Sneak Peek Brick – BRMC Book 2
COMING SOON FROM CHELSEA HANDCOCK
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
Eight years ago, Afghanistan
He was fucking hot, sweating like a bitch, and itching like a motherfucker, but Axel just couldn’t keep the smile off his face. They were going home, finally, after two tours. His entire team was being sent stateside, and he was going to fucking bow out. There would be no re-upping for him—he was done.
The slap on his back pushed him forward, but it didn’t diminish his mood. When Caine stepped around him, he was still smiling. Tiny, who had walked up with Caine, stopped and looked at him oddly.
“That’s just fucking creepy. Knock it off, Axel.”
“What, because I’m smiling, asshole?”
“Hell, yeah, you’re going to fucking jinx us or some shit. Twenty-four hours and we’re out of this hellhole. Be the same moody fucker, you’ve been for the last eighteen months. You change it up, and bad shit happens.”
Tiny was their sniper and point man. He was fucking good at his job but blunt as hell, in your face, over the top, and superstitious to the extreme. Axel was pretty sure the man had a collection of lucky charms. The problem was, his gut feelings were also right most of the time. The whole team learned not to mess with Tiny’s feelings—bad shit happened when they did.
“You’re just jealous because I have a warm, wet, tight pussy waiting for me to get off the fucking plane, and all you got waiting for you is your hand and some government-issued lotion.”
“Asshole, warm and wet is all I need, and I can find it in any fucking bar in the good old US of A.”
“I think Axe is right, dude. One look at your ugly ass mug and the chicks in the states are going to run screaming for the hills. Nope,” Brick said, putting his fingers to his forehead and closing his eyes as though he could actually see the future. “Sorry, dude, only your hand, and sorry, but Uncle Sam isn’t going to spring for the lotion. Short-timers don’t get perks. You’re going to have to buy your own, and we all know your tight ass won’t spring for the luxury.”
They all laughed because that shit was the truth. Tiny wouldn’t spend a fucking dime if he didn’t have to. He stashed that shit for a rainy day. He still lived in the barracks when they were stateside, went to mess like clockwork, and was rumored to have taken a chick to Taco Bell on a date for one of their five-dollar boxes. He said it was because the chick couldn’t suck dick for shit, but the fucker was just cheap.
This was one thing Axe was going to miss, probably the only thing. These guys, his team, all brothers by a different mother, but tight as hell and loyal to the core. They had all saved each other’s asses—too many times to count. They talked about it, and none of them were going to re-up. Brick and Tiny had another six months to go, but he, Caine, and Roo were all out in thirty days. Axe loved the guys, they had been together virtually since boot camp, and the team was tight.
“What are your plans, Caine?” Axe asked, looking at their de facto leader. “Going to hit up that sweet little piece you visit every time we’re stateside?”
“Never know, brother, but I’m thinking more along the lines of just being free for a while, seeing where the road takes me, and figuring out the rest. Pussy can be found everywhere and anywhere.”
“Thinking of joining up with your brother and his club?” Axel asked.
“Nah, man, thinking of maybe starting my own. We’ve been stuck in this shit hole for so long, I like the idea of roaming for a while, and Tuck and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on some of Uncle’s rules and regs. I say fuck it. Served my time, bent over, and took it—not going to happen anymore.”
“Fuck, I hear ya,” Brick said, bringing over some lukewarm beers he had smuggled from God knew where. “That last mission was bullshit.” Brick was their logistics guy. If you wanted it, and it could be found, Brick would get it for you. “Stunk to high heaven and shady as fuck. It would be nice to say screw it for a while and not worry about what some just-out-of-school, pansy-ass motherfucker thinks is the right way to handle things. If Roo hadn’t been doing his voodoo mumbo jumbo shit, none of us would b
e sitting here right now.”
That was the fucking truth. Their team had gone against orders, deviating from the plan only slightly, but it had saved all their lives.
“What are you going to do when Uncle Sam lets you off the leash, Axe?”
“I’m going home to my girl and do the whole white picket fence, two point five kids, and work nine to five in an air-conditioned office at the old man’s company. Maybe even get a fucking dog or some shit.”
Tiny laughed and almost spit out his beer. “Sounds boring as fuck, man. Sorry, but why in the hell would you settle for one piece of ass for the rest of your life when you can eat off the buffet?”
It didn’t sound boring to Axel; he wanted normal. He and London had been together since high school, and she had stuck it out through his deployments, training, and every other thing. He owed it to her to do boring, to give her what their parents had. Axel had put a ring on her finger the day before he left for boot camp, and she had been planning their wedding ever since. He’d held off, not wanting to get married while he was still in the service. That shit didn’t last. He’d seen one too many guys come home to their lonely wives, fucking other soldiers. He didn’t think London would do that to him, but he wasn’t about to take the chance. It was better she stayed in their hometown with their families.
Axel shook his head when he heard gagging sounds coming from Brick.
“Dude, you look like a deranged pussy-whipped asshole when you’re thinking about your woman. Scares the shit out of the locals and gives me the fucking willies. Maybe you should join up with Caine and me and ride for a while, explore all those options you’ve been missing out on all these years while you played Boy Scout. Hell, man, I don’t think you’ve even used Uncle’s lotion. You’re so pussy-whipped, might do you some good.”
Axel laughed and chucked his beer can at Brick’s head.
“Ain’t going to happen, man, my girl is all I need. Made her promises and don’t plan on breaking them. When you scraggly motherfuckers get arrested, I’ll be there to bail you out.”
The scene and conversation played over in Axe’s head like a fucking drum. Axel rubbed his forehead, on the verge of a migraine. Shaking his head, he thought, fuck, what a crock. He came home alright, and for about two months, everything was perfect and going according to his plan... until it wasn’t. London had never planned their wedding, hell, she hadn’t planned on staying for those fucking two months. When it all blew up in his face, he went to the people he counted on, his brothers, and had been riding with them ever since.
But now, things were changing, and Axe didn’t like it. Shit, even at the moment, sitting at a table, drink in hand, plenty of pussy to be had, Axe hated every minute of it. His mind and heart were screaming for him to leave, hit the road, and never turn back. Roots and dreams caused pain. Being in one place too long painted a fucking target on their backs. His president knew that shit, but still, here he sat, the Nomad patch on his back replaced with Hazard, Kentucky. Roots, fucking roots—he hated them.
Picking up his glass, he took another healthy swig of the whiskey. It was rotgut and tasted like shit, but just what he needed to numb the memories. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working fast enough. He’d just gotten back from a run, helping out one of the RBMC members with a chick, Braya. Damn, that girl reminded him so much of his ex, the memories just wouldn’t stop, a constant loop running through his head, twenty-four seven. This fucking place was just too damn close to where he grew up and where he thought his life would continue—until she fucking ruined it all.
He looked around the room again. Most of his brothers were hanging out, doing what they wanted, looking fucking happy, partying it up like there was no tomorrow. And what was he doing? Drinking crap whiskey and thinking about how it all started, getting more pissed by the second.
He heard the scrape of a chair and looked at his President, Caine Masters.
“What the fuck are you doing, Axel?” Caine questioned.
“Drinking. What does it look like, asshole?”
“It looks like you’re doing that memory lane shit again. Thought you were over the bitch.”
“I am,” Axel said, shooting back the last of his whiskey.
“Nah, you ain’t over shit, and that little piece of ass showing up hasn’t helped any.”
Not wanting to get into the past or hash out anything to do with London, Axel changed the subject. Putting his glass down, taking the bottle and filling it to the rim again, he tilted it toward Caine. The other man declined as he always did; it was expected. Caine would drink a beer or two, but no hard liquor, ever, said it messed with his control. Axel could respect that, but at the moment, he also didn’t care. He had something else he wanted to talk about. He looked at Caine, his fucking best friend, the man he would kill or die for.
“Why did you do this? Why the fuck are we here? This was never the plan, Caine. You know your brother put a fucking bullseye right at our door.”
Caine leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“He didn’t put that bullseye there, dude, and you know it. I am Perez’s primary target. You don’t want to be here, don’t be, but be honest about the fucking reasons, Axel. Paris starts sniffing around, and all of a sudden, you need to get on the road. She hooks up with the brothers, asked to be a sweet butt, and you get all broody and shit. Kick her ass out. I told you it was your call from the start. We have enough shit going on without you tromping down memory fucking lane, every goddamn day. Deal with your shit, so we can concentrate on the business at hand.”
Axel didn’t acknowledge what Caine was saying about Paris. The truth was, he didn’t want London’s sister there, but he wasn’t going to stop her. It was a free world, and one thing he still believed in was doing what you wanted or needed to feel good. Paris was a problem, always had been. She had been a spoiled kid, crazy as hell, and wild as a tornado. She and London had always been opposites. London was wife material—steady, reliable, and loyal. Pari… she was sweet butt material, willing to do anything and everything that got her rocks off, regardless of the cost. But he couldn’t deny the chick was bringing back his past, and he didn’t like it. He was just too damn stubborn to say it affected him out loud. Instead, he did what he always did, diverted.
“Like I’m going to leave you to deal with this shit on your own, motherfucker. This shit is all kinds of wrong and not the way the Blacktop Renegades work. You changed the rules mid-game, and it isn’t cool with me.”
Caine leaned forward, getting right in Axel’s face.
“You’re blowing smoke, and we both know it. You’re always up for a fucking fight. How many years have you told me to get shot of this shit? I’m doing what you asked, and now you’re whining like a little bitch who got his feelings hurt because I didn’t run it by you first.”
Axel stood up so quickly, his chair flew out behind him, pushing Caine back. He respected the man, loved him like a brother, but no one fucking talked to him like that, not even Caine. Just as he was about to clock the motherfucker right in the face, shots rang out, and he could hear the distinct sound of tires squealing. On instinct, they went down, ducking for cover. It took them a couple of seconds to get their bearings before running outside to chaos.
Brothers were scattering, looking for cover, but all of them had their weapons pulled. Right in the center of the parking lot was a bloody bundle. Axel’s stomach dropped. Scanning the area, he crouched and ran toward it, already knowing it was a fucking body, a small body. Shit! Caine was at his side, but he wasn’t paying attention to him. Pulling back the canvas, he could barely make out her features, but it was Paris, her dead eyes staring up at him, her body beaten and bloody. Caine’s gruff, ‘Son of a bitch’ echoed his thoughts. Stabbed into her chest was a piece of paper, the words, ‘I’m coming for you,’ written in blood.
Roo came up and looked down, going to his knees, and brushed the hair off Paris’ face.
“My God, man, what did they do to h
er?”
Axel couldn’t speak, didn’t even know what to say. He knew they needed to call the police, and he knew he would need to contact London. Paris was her only family. His mind was going in a hundred different directions about how he was going to do that.
“I don’t know, man,” Caine’s voice broke through his thoughts. “But the better question is why. She was a hang-around, nothing more. This doesn’t seem like Perez’s style.”
Caine was so blunt and callous, Axel wanted to hit him. This woman would have been his sister-in-law. She had fucked several of the members, and Caine was saying she was nothing. That shit didn’t fly with him. He was about to tell the man just that when Caine’s words stopped him cold.
“Chill. Think and leave the emotions aside. You know I’m right,” Caine ordered.
The bitch of it was—the fucker was right.
Chapter Two
London braced as she heard the sound of the whip snap. She counted to two before the searing pain sliced through her back. She was in a living nightmare. God, she didn’t even know how long she had been there. She had been so fucking stupid. The saying, ‘if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is,’ kept repeating in her sleep-deprived and abused mind. When her boss came to her with the client of a lifetime and the promise of making more money in a month’s time than she had all year, she should have run the other way, instead of walking right into the clutches of a mad man.
At first, he hadn’t touched her, just mocked and threatened her, showing her videos of things she never wanted to see, and denying her the basics like food, water, and sleep. The sick gleam in his eyes when she cried or begged made London realize pretty quickly, the monster got off on her reactions, so she shut down, showing him nothing. In the last few days, he had upped his game, and worse of all, started demanding she tell him where JT was.
The thought of JT anywhere near this horrible man was more torture than he could ever deliver to her physically. It also made her more determined, which is why she needed to figure out how long she had been there. Dark grey suit, royal blue shirt—that was one; black suit, red shirt, that was two; herringbone sports jacket, light blue shirt, three; no jacket, green shirt… fuck, she couldn’t remember. Starting over, she repeated it again in her head. Dark grey suit, royal blue shirt, one; black suit, red shirt, two; herringbone… London almost cried out in frustration. This was important, she needed to remember. She only had a month. Had it been ten, twelve days, or longer? Why was this so hard? There had been no patterns for her to watch to determine day from night. The only thing that changed was what this asshole wore every day. It was all running together.