Bronze (Blackwings MC - Devil Springs Book 5) Read online

  Bronze

  Blackwings MC - Devil Springs - Book Five

  Teagan Brooks

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Special Appearances

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Teagan Brooks

  Copyright © 2020 by Teagan Brooks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Adult Content Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years and older. It contains adult language, explicit sex, and violence.

  Created with Vellum

  I’ve been awake for something like thirty-six hours.

  At this moment in time, I would like to dedicate this book to giant sticky notes, Hayley Faiman’s pen, coffee, and vammies.

  Love you, Mean it

  1

  “Please, Lorcan. My parents kicked me out. I barely have enough in savings to get by with a few nights in a hotel. I don’t know what else to do,” the woman cried as she rubbed her swollen belly.

  My father said something I couldn’t understand, but I knew by the tone of his voice that he was angry. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out his money clip. Placing the entire wad in her hand, he pulled her close. “Take this and go. If I ever see you or hear from you again, I’ll kill you and the kid. Understand?”

  She nodded her head rapidly as tears ran down her face. “Yes. Yes. I understand. I won’t come back. I promise.”

  “Make sure you’re the one who sees to that promise. Not me.”

  With that, my father slammed the front door closed, and I ran back to my room before he caught me spying.

  I looked down at the journal in my hand and reread the words that triggered the memory.

  I think Lorcan has gotten one of his floozies pregnant.

  Words my mother wrote in her journal over twenty-two years ago.

  Knowing I got my curious nature from my mother, I started digging through her filing cabinet to see if I could find any more information. Mom would have wanted to know for sure if my dad fathered another child. I knew she would have searched for some answers, but I didn’t know if she found any. I wished I could pick up the phone and call her, just like I’d wished every day for the last four months since she died.

  Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I focused on sorting through her documents. Thankfully, she wasn’t one to keep things that weren’t necessary, so it didn’t take me long to find the folder hidden underneath the hanging files. It wasn’t labeled, but I found a note stuck to the first page inside.

  My Dear Sloane,

  I knew you would find this. I’m sorry there isn’t more. It was difficult to find what little information I did. If you’re going to proceed, do it with caution. If anyone tells you to leave, please heed their warning and leave. If word got back to the wrong person, you could put other people’s lives in danger. Stop and think about that for a minute. I know you’ll make the right choice.

  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or your brothers that you might have another sibling out there. I wanted to be sure before I broke that news to you, and all of the information I found was circumstantial.

  Be careful, my beautiful girl. I let this consume my life for a short period of time. I don’t want you to do the same.

  I love you, and I’ll always be with you.

  Mom

  I lifted the note and continued looking through the contents of the folder.

  Jackpot!

  It appeared my dad fathered a child with a former intern, though her name wasn’t listed anywhere in the documents. There wasn’t a name for the child either, though Mom’s note said it was a girl. Of the few addresses listed, all were crossed out except one. Continuing to flip through the papers, I found records where my mother had sent money to the addresses listed, but from what I could tell, it looked like she stopped doing that a few years after she started.

  With the last known address right in front of me, I couldn’t stop myself, even though I didn’t have the first semblance of a plan. I packed my bags and headed to Devil Springs to meet my sister.

  When I arrived in town, I found the closest four-star hotel and checked in. I was starving, and I wanted to soak my sore muscles in a hot bath before I worked on coming up with a plan on how to proceed. However, I fell asleep approximately two minutes after I got out of the tub.

  When I woke the next morning, I ordered room service for breakfast before I pulled out my laptop and started looking for answers. First, I searched the last known address listed in my mother’s notes. After digging around on Ritch County’s website, I finally found the name listed on the deed to the property.

  Adelaide Coleman.

  Using social media, I learned that Adelaide was a divorced forty-three-year-old. It appeared she had two daughters and listed her hometown the same as mine. I couldn’t tell if she was the pregnant woman from years ago. Her hair looked the same, but I didn’t recognize anything about her face. However, it had been over twenty-one years since she came to our home, and my three-year-old self wasn’t concerned with remembering what she looked like.

  Most of her information was set to private, but I was able to view some of her pictures. However, the only ones I could see were of two girls I assumed to be her daughters—one of which was likely my sister. I was so excited I could barely contain myself.

  Both girls were gorgeous, and surprisingly, they looked alike, which meant they also looked like me. Both had blonde hair, though each had a slightly different shade. It was hard to tell an exact height from pictures, but they both seemed to be on the petite side. The one with lighter blonde hair had a leaner frame, and her skin had cooler undertones, while the one with darker hair was the opposite with a curvier frame and warmer skin tone. Still, judging by looks, they could easily be related to each other, as well as related to me.

  I saved a couple of the pictures in case I needed to do a reverse image search, but as luck would have it, I found a photo with both girls tagged in it. Unfortunately, the tags were in the corner of the picture instead of on the people in the photo.

  Paige Coleman.

  Heidi Coleman.

  I clicked on Paige’s name since it was the first one my mouse landed on. Her profile was locked down and only allowed me to view her profile picture, which was a cute shot of her and Heidi standing in front of a couple of motorcycles.

  Clicking the back button, I clicked the tag to take me to Heidi’s profile. A grin took over my face when her almost public profile
filled the page. I decided to start by going through her pictures so I could put a face to a name, but it was like Paige and Heidi were joined at the hip. They were together in every single picture posted on Heidi’s page, and there were hundreds of photos uploaded.

  Switching gears, I scrolled through her “About” section and reached for a notebook and pen when I saw she’d listed her current place of employment.

  Precious Metals.

  After clicking and opening the link in a new tab, I jotted down the phone number and address for the place described as a local family-owned sports bar and grill.

  Then, I went back to her main page and started scrolling through her posts. She didn’t generate her own content very often, but she did frequently share posts from others—particularly book-related posts. I squeaked and clapped my hands in excitement. Either my half sister or my half sister’s sister was not only a book lover but a romance book lover.

  After several more minutes of scrolling and not finding anything useful, I entered the address listed in my mother’s files into the map app on my phone, surprised to learn that it was only a seven-minute drive. Grabbing my purse, I slipped on my shoes and dashed for my car.

  Seven minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of a cozy, ranch-style house. My stomach fluttered with excitement. She could be in there.

  My sister.

  I had to force myself to walk to the door, instead of run, and to ring the doorbell one time, instead of pounding on the door until someone answered. I bounced on the balls of my feet while I waited. And waited.

  I rang the doorbell again and knocked on the door a few times for good measure. Still, no one answered.

  Frustrated and disappointed, I stabbed the doorbell several times with my finger and beat on the door. “Hello!” I called out. “Anyone home?”

  Silence.

  Sighing in defeat, I retreated to my car and started to head back to the hotel. However, I ended up driving around the town, looking for places to check out. But, I wanted to know more before I went out looking for answers again, so I spent the rest of the day in my hotel room searching for more information on the Colemans. Unfortunately, I didn’t find much more than I already had.

  I spent the first part of the next day working. I was just barely on schedule, and I wanted to hang on to that for as long as possible before falling behind yet again. It was a common occurrence for me, despite my numerous attempts to break the habit.

  Finally, when six o’clock rolled around, I took a shower and got ready to head to the bar Heidi listed as her place of employment. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling. I was so close to finding her that I could almost taste it.

  After careful consideration, I chose to wear a pair of ripped, skinny jeans with what I referred to as a conversation starter T-shirt and a pair of strappy sandals. I was going for trendy yet approachable. With my hair and makeup finished, I grabbed my purse and keys before I could talk myself out of going.

  As I drove to the bar, a part of me wished I had at least told Frankie where I was going. I could have really used one of her pep talks right before I walked into an unfamiliar bar in a strange town all by myself…hoping to find a sibling who didn’t know I existed. Yeah, a pep talk and a handle of Vodka would have been stellar right then.

  But I was nothing if not determined. So, I opened the door and walked inside, strutting to the bar in my big girl panties.

  2

  I looked up right as a hot blonde crossed the room and sat her firm ass on a bar stool, in my direct line of sight. For the first time in months, a woman caught my cock’s attention, and I knew right then I wasn’t going anywhere. I was considering heading back to the clubhouse, but my dick was straining for her promise land like his life depended on it.

  My eyes stayed on her for several minutes after she ordered a drink to see if she was staying there or moving to a table. After a few sips, she stayed put, and I made my approach, silently hoping that Layla didn’t embarrass the fuck out of me trying to be helpful.

  I loved Layla with my whole heart. I knew she meant well, but I was a grown-ass man with a solid game. I didn’t need my older brother’s Old Lady’s help getting pussy. But, because I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, I couldn’t tell her that either. Or wouldn’t. I knew it wasn’t my fault, and she was very adamant that she didn’t think anything of it anymore, but I still felt guilty about the awful things I said to Layla when we first met.

  Glancing at Layla, I ordered myself a beer before I took a seat beside the beautiful blonde. I had to give credit where credit is due. Layla handed me a beer and went back to serving other customers without a word. To be honest, I was expecting her to tell me to get it my damn self, and I was glad she didn’t. It’s not that I was trying to hide who I was, but in my experience, women looked at bikers one of two ways—we were either criminals or the fuck of a lifetime. And while I wasn’t ready to settle down like a number of my club brothers, I was starting to get tired of being overlooked as a person.

  I took a sip of my beer and pulled myself out of my thoughts by glancing at her tits. Or that’s what I was trying to do when I read the one word printed across her chest.

  Moist.

  Choosing my words carefully, I turned to her and grinned. “Nice shirt. Is that your way of weeding out the creeps?”

  “Maybe,” she replied and flicked her eyes to me.

  Flashing her my best panty-dropping smile, I told her the truth. “Darlin’, if you think there’s a man in this room who hasn’t associated the word stretched across your tits with your pussy, you’re sadly mistaken. Granted, not all of them would say it, but every damn one of them’s thinking it.”

  “Hmm,” she replied and traced the rim of her glass with her index finger. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re the first one to ask me about my moist pussy without actually asking me about it.”

  My cock twitched at her words. “Fuck me,” I groaned and pressed the heel of my palm against my hard dick in a vain attempt to get some relief. “We can talk about your moist pussy later tonight.” Talk about it. Play with it. Taste it. Fuck it. “Once we’ve gotten to know each other a little better,” I added.

  She smirked and finally turned to fully face me. And holy shit, she was gorgeous. Her hair wasn’t overdone, and her skin wasn’t caked with layers of makeup. It looked like I could actually touch her without getting girl shit all over my hands. Girl shit was sticky, and the smell lingered far too long. Girl shit was a hard no for me.

  She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Are you finished eye-fucking me?”

  “Nah, baby. I’ve been building up my stamina for years. I can go all night,” I said suggestively.

  She rolled her eyes and reached for her drink. “I’ve heard that before.”

  I leaned in, slowly invading her space. “Not from me.”

  Inhaling sharply through her parted plump lips, she cleared her throat and tried to shake off my charm. “And you are?”

  “Bronze Black,” I said proudly and extended my hand.

  “Sloane,” she replied and shook my hand. “And I’m not telling you my last name because I just met you.”

  “Fair enough,” I returned, reluctant to let go of her silky smooth skin. “Have you been to Precious Metals before?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. It’s my first time.”

  “Then you have to try our signature drink.” I turned back to the bar and flagged Layla. “Bring her a couple of BWOLs.”

  “Coming right up,” she chirped and disappeared behind the bar.

  “Um, I’m not sure what you ordered for me, but if you think you’re going to get me drunk and have your wicked way with me, you’ve got another thing coming, buddy.”

  I grinned devilishly and turned my head so she could see the dimple I knew was visible even through my beard. “My wicked way? How do you know my way is wicked?” I teased.

  She laughed lightly. “Just a guess.”
/>   “My ways are wicked good,” I clarified right as Layla returned with her drinks.

  “Oh, vomit. Stop talking. Right now. Just let me drop these drinks off, and I’ll be gone before I accidentally hear something I don’t want to hear. There we go. La-la-la,” she sang as she rushed away from the table.

  “I take it you two know each other,” she prompted.

  “You could say that,” I chuckled and immediately realized my mistake by the furrowing of Sloane’s forehead. “She’s my brother’s Old Lady.”

  “Old Lady? Like an MC Old Lady?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yeah,” I replied slowly, trying to figure out why I was disappointed in her reaction. She wouldn’t be the first bitch I fucked solely because she wanted to bang a biker, but she seemed different somehow.

  She leaned back and glanced over me from head to toe. “You’re not in your brother’s club?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “Because you’re not wearing a cut. Isn’t that one of the rules? That you have to wear it unless you’re out of town or in a car?”

  “All right, Sweet Sloane, I think it’s time for us to move this conversation to a table,” I said and got to my feet. Leaning over the bar, I had to stretch for it, but I managed to snag my cut from where it was hanging under the bar and slid it over my shoulders. “Layla, have somebody bring our drinks and a couple of glasses of water over to our table,” I called out as I took Sloane’s hand and led her to a booth in the far corner of the bar.”