My Vice: Fallen Angels MC (Fallen Angels MC Series Book 1) Read online

  MY

  VICE

  Fallen Angels MC Series: Book One

  Breanna Mansfield

  Copyright © 2017 Breanna Mansfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  DEDICATION

  To the real Schuyler’s mom.

  You are amazing. You are supportive. You are kind. You are a woman with the purest of hearts. You have a smile and a laugh that can make the darkest nights bright as a new morning. Your arms may be empty, but your heart will never be. Schuyler is very much alive, and now lives in the hearts of many. She isn’t just ours anymore.

  I pray that you never change, keep telling your story, and let others know – they are not alone. You inspire many, just being yourself.

  I hope that one day, I can love as strong as you do.

  Megs, this one is for you. I love you more than I will ever be able to tell you.

  xx.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Kristi Hosier, thank you for letting me go through gallery after gallery, until I found the perfect image for this book. You are awesome, and I can’t wait to work with you again.

  Robert Kelly, thank you for being the face of Vice. We have known each other for a long time and I’m so excited I got to work with friends on the book that means a lot to me. Thank you for sharing it and being supportive of my baby.

  Susan Garwood of Wicked Women Designs. I have no idea what I’d do without you. Not only did you create an amazing cover for this book, but you went above and beyond that. Every minor freak out, you were there, giving me guidance and support. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for coming into my life, and being another person I can’t live without. Never change. Please. M2

  My editors. Hadley and Geri. You saved me and my book. You took my voice and polished it, until it shined. You two will never be able to understand the meaning behind my thank you. You saved my story and my bruised muse. For that, I’ll always be thankful and humble.

  My Tribe Squad. You guys and your shenanigans have kept me sane when all I wanted to do was cry. Thank you for being the best support team a girl could ask for. Don’t forget, Eminem is the Rap God. No one else.??

  Lo. Woman, I have no idea where to start with you. Your gifs, your messages, your laughs and your crazy comments. The way you build me up when I forget my worth, and the way you always have a sassy comeback when I need one, blows my mind. The support you have for me is insane. I can only hope to be half the woman you are in my career. You remind me that I’m still human, and it’s okay to have a soft heart. It keeps us alive, and reminds us where we came from. Thank you.

  True North Designs is the place to get all of your swag, Lo makes the most perfect things.

  Chapter 1

  Fuck it, I’m just going to shoot him.

  “Personally, I’m about fucking done with this whole damn conversation,” I say in boredom as I pull my Glock from the holster underneath my arm.

  In all honesty, I’m good and pissed. I wanted to shoot this fucker as soon as we walked into this interrogation. I know he’s guilty. He knows he is guilty. Fuck, we all know he’s guilty! However, the Prez wants information out of him, and as his second in command, it’s my job to see his wishes carried out. But the good thing about being Vice President of The Fallen Angels Motorcycle Club is that I get to choose how long we have to do this bullshit. And guess what? Time’s up.

  I push away from my spot against the wall and walk over to the chair in the middle of the room.

  “Look, Spider. I’ve been waiting over there for a fucking hour now for you to talk. And when I say talk, I don’t mean this run around bullshit you’re talking. I mean, tell us who put you into our damn club? Who the fuck do you report to? Give me all the goddamn information.”

  “I’ve told you all I know!” he screams.

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “Wrong.”

  I click the safety off on my gun and hold it up to his head.

  “Wait! Wait. Wait, please,” he screams.

  I mask my amusement with annoyance. I saw that coming a mile away. They always cave with death in their face. It’s humorous. Maybe I’m just twisted like that.

  “What’s that?” I place my hand behind my ear to emphasize my point.

  “The guy goes by the name D. I don’t know his real name. I report to Brandon and he reports to D,” he whines.

  “Fuck this shit. I’ve had a fucking shitty day today. I’m not going to stand here and listen to bullshit I already fucking know.” I turn from the man.

  “What do you say?” Hawk asks, equally as done as I am.

  I turn back around, lift my Glock and pull the trigger.

  “Jesus Christ, Stanton! Couldn’t you warn someone!?” Alex yells.

  “Goddamn it, Alex, I think your vagina is fucking showing again,” I snap at him.

  “Call the Avengers to clean this shit up. I’m out of here. Don’t fucking call me unless someone is dying or they need to fucking die,” I grumble as I take the stairs out of the basement of the warehouse we’ve been using.

  I roll my head around, stretching my neck. Fuck today. Fuck this whole week, actually. It’s been nonstop bullshit. I look to the east and see the sky is still dark. The sun will be rising soon. I’ve been working nights this whole week. We don’t really have schedules here, but the guys we are looking for aren’t awake during the day. I’m tired, and I’m way too fucking annoyed. I know it’s because I haven’t seen her this whole week. She works first shift, so by the time I get to her diner, she’ll be gone. There is something about her that makes my anger chill the fuck out. Not that I’ll ever admit it. I stop in my tracks as I huff a laugh. Well, I guess I just did.

  I walk outside and see my girl sitting in the empty parking lot. The sun is shining, casting a reflection off the chrome pipes. She is a V-Rod – white with blue details on it. I throw my leg over and when my ass connects with her leather seat, I exhale. I’m exhausted. This whole deal at the club about having a traitor in our brotherhood is so damn stressful. I need a damn break from life, but I need to find out who is trying to sell drugs into my territory first. The brotherhood always comes first. They are the most important part of my life. Without them, I would have been in a much shittier place.

  Riding gives my soul the freedom that my life can’t. I’m fucking stuck here in this town. Without my bike and my brotherhood, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Plain and simple.

  As soon as I turn onto the open road and hit the throttle, all my thoughts go away. My body takes over and it’s like I don’t even have to think of how to operate my ride. Shift from first to second – third – fourth - fifth.

  Before I realize where I’m headed, I’m pulling into the tiny diner on the other side of town. I kick my kickstand down and take off my gloves before throwing them on my handlebars.

  As I walk through the doors, I leave my sunglasses on so I can look for her without being too damn obvious. Thinking she isn’t even here, my step falters when I lay my eyes on the sexy as sin woman who has my dick standing at attention with just her presence.

  She’s sitting behind the counter on a crate with her legs crossed at the knees. Her dark hair is piled up high on the top of her head. Her uniform consists of black pants and a red shirt that has the
“Lunch Box” logo on the front and a witty tag line on the back that says, When you get tired of packing the same box every day, come eat at the Lunch Box.

  She is reading a book with some half naked guy astride a motorcycle on the cover. I snort as I see it’s a motorcycle club book. She would shit herself if she knew what really happens in the club.

  She jerks her head up when she hears me and her lips form into a smile that reaches her eyes.

  The anger and annoyance I’ve been dealing with this week just disappears.

  “What’s the matter, big bad biker? Never seen a romance book before?” she scoffs playfully as she puts the book down and picks up her order pad.

  “Oh, I’ve seen ‘em. My sister writes those romance books.” I nod to her book on the counter. “I was laughing about the choice of cover.”

  “Ahh. Yeah. Well, I like to escape from reality sometimes. And something about these books suck me in and lets me just… forget.” She shrugs as she turns around to put the book back in her purse.

  I don’t miss the way her beautiful brown eyes darken.

  She has long brown hair that usually hangs down to her lower back. It has a slight curl to it, mixed with a little hint of red when the sunlight catches it. She’s about five foot five, maybe a buck ten, when she gets out of the shower soaking wet. Her tits are more than a handful, and the ass on the girl would have men rolling over in their graves wishing they were born in her generation to get a glimpse of her.

  She has these tiny little dimples that only show when she greets me with that first smile of the day. It is part of the reason I keep coming back to this diner time after time. It’s why I ride all the way across this huge fucking town to see her actually.

  “I understand what you mean by needing to escape. So, no need to fret on that,” I mumble.

  “So, what can I get ’cha to drink then, Stanton?” she asks, clearly getting back into work mode.

  “Coffee, black,” I reply. Same thing every time. I’m surprised she even asks me anymore.

  “On it.” She smiles.

  “Thanks, Schuyler.”

  One thing I like about her is that she doesn’t try. She doesn’t hang on every word of mine in hopes she makes it to my bed, or the back of my bike. She is genuinely happy to just sit and chat. It’s another reason I come back every time. She is just comfortable to be around. No jumping over herself to get close to me as all the curb monkeys do. It’s a welcoming sight to behold.

  “So, did you work all night or just get here?” I ask, looking at the clock. It’s nearly five am and the sky is still dark.

  My phone starts to vibrate under my vest and I groan. Someone better be dying right now.

  “Worked all night. I’ve been on thirds this week. Lynn is sick. That poor woman has the stomach bug that went around,” she says with honest sympathy.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been on thirds too, so I know your pain,” I groan.

  “One in the same, huh?” She winks and tips her imaginary hat and walks into the kitchen.

  My phone vibrates once again and I look down at the caller ID and curse under my breath when I see it’s my mom calling.

  Just what I fucking need.

  Chapter 2

  I hear the word “fuck” and I lift my head, and peek out of the tiny window at Stanton. My inner slut sighs out loud when I look at the perfect piece of man. He is tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to look into his eyes when he stands in front of me. I mean, I know it isn’t hard when I’m only five-five, but still, he’s tall. His brown hair is so dark it’s almost black. His eyes are a coppery gold. His face has a five-o‘clock shadow that makes my ovaries sigh right along with my inner slut. His arms have tribal tattoos starting from his forearms and disappear under his short sleeves. His white shirt, under his leather cut, is hugging his arms like it needs the warmth I have imagined his body can provide time and time again.

  Stanton has been coming in this diner for almost five months. The first month the man barely spoke enough words to me to take his order. He started to warm up, just as I did. It sometimes is still nerve wracking, but that’s my own personal issues shining through.

  His jeans hang loose on his hips, falling over his riding boots. His cut says he is the vice president of The Fallen Angels. That’s something my head tells me to steer clear of, but my wanton inner slut is screaming for me to meet him in a head-on collision course.

  I have no idea what his club represents, but if it’s anything like my father’s, then I want nothing to do with it. Even if this piece of sex on legs is a part of it.

  I fill up his coffee cup and walk back to the side of the bar where he’s sitting. The diner is a little hole in the wall with a long bar and seven other tables, three of them being booths.

  “I’m so sick of hearing this! You call me doing this shit at least once a fucking month. When are you going to realize, you fucking need some goddamn help?” he bellows into the phone.

  I don’t know who he’s talking to, but I’d hate to be on the other end of the conversation.

  “Well, I ain't bailing you out this time. So, good fucking luck,” he snaps and hits the end button.

  “That wasn’t the best goodbye I’ve ever heard before,” I say with an arch to my brow to lighten the mood.

  He huffs a laugh and tilts his head back.

  Just like my inner slut, I stare at the corded muscles of his neck move as he rolls his head around.

  I rub my hand under my mouth just to double check no drool has dribbled down my chin. I’m leaning on my elbows on the bar and I have one hand under my chin.

  He raises his head back up and his golden eyes meet mine.

  “It’s better than what I really want to say.” He shrugs.

  “You should always be honest, not only with yourself, but with your voice, too. Tell ‘em what you really wanna say.” I shrug back.

  “I wish it was that easy, Schuy,” he replies while my insides die at the nickname he has given me over the last of couple weeks. I can feel my cheeks getting warm from the endearment. I turn around and start folding silverware in napkins so he won’t notice.

  “Why isn’t it that easy? I’m sure people listen to you,” I tell him and glance at him over my shoulder.

  “Ha!” he barks out a laugh.

  I turn back around and fold my arms across my chest.

  “What is so funny about that?” I muse.

  “Well, for starters, some people only listen to me because they have no choice. I’m sure your books tell you what vice president means. Only in real life, it’s so much more than that. Yeah, my Prez does a shit ton, but so do I. I’d say our work loads are even. However, people in the club are about the only ones who listen to me.”

  I know exactly what his job is in real life; however, I’m not going to tell him that. No fucking thank you. I’ve been here about a year now with no interruptions. I’m not about to let my secret slip now and fuck up my sanctuary.

  “Ahh. Busy bee, huh?” I ask and I go back to leaning on the counter with my hand underneath my chin.

  “I sound like a whiney little brat, don’t I? I am not living up to my manly biker ways,” he grins while puffing his chest out

  “Nah, it's actually refreshing to chat with you. My books are my best friends, but they never talk back.” I smile.

  “You ain’t from around here, are ya?” he asks.

  I lift my finger and wave it in a side to side motion, and tsk behind my teeth.

  “No, no, no. We are not talking about me. I am as closed off as the Great Wall of China. Sorry, Vice, but no dice here.” I shake my head.

  “Ahh. Must be lonely in that fortress you have built around yourself.” He raises his eyebrow at me.

  My heart thumps as his piercing gaze sees right through me. This isn’t the first conversation we’ve had with him trying to figure out more about me. It used to scare me thinking my father sent him to spy on me. However, my gut never said that, just my
paranoia. My gut has always said to trust Stanton. He’s a good one.

  “Sometimes being alone is better than reality, Stanton.” I look away. “When you’ve been dealt a hand like mine, you often wonder what you did in a past life to deserve it, ya know?”

  “Trust me, angel; I know that all too well.” He laughs bitterly.

  Something inside of me breaks. One of my walls doesn’t crack, but shifts back a little. Letting him take one more step before he hits it. He’s not there yet, but if he does, he will have more room to walk.

  I angle my head to the side and smile.

  “Something tells me that we really are one in the same in some aspects. Something itching at me.” I hear a throat clear and I look over at my other customer and realize he needs a refill. I sigh out loud, wishing he wasn’t here.

  As I grab the coffee pot, I hear Stanton’s phone ring again.

  “What?” he snaps.

  He sounds so darn lovely. I snicker to myself.

  “Fuck. Alright. Thanks, Doc.” He flips his phone shut.

  “Hey, Schuyler, I gotta go take care of some shit real quick,” he says as his eyes darken.

  “Don’t gotta explain yourself to me, Vice,” I smile. “Just be careful.”

  “Right.” He shakes his head.

  He reaches for his wallet to pay for his coffee and I wave my hand to tell him not to worry about it. But like he always does, he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and throws it on the counter. I watch like the inner hussy of mine as he walks to the door. His footstep falters and he pauses with his hand on the door handle. He leans his head back and blows out a breath. What in the world is he doing?

  He turns his head and his eyes are waging an internal war that makes me want to know everything about him; from his favorite color to his deepest darkest secrets.

  “When do you get off work, Schuy?” he asks.

  “In about an hour,” I reply without a thought.