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Hummingbird
A Knights of Mayhem MC Novel
Gypsy Reed
Hummingbird
Knights of Mayhem MC Series Book II
Copyright ©2020 Gypsy Reed
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or a book review.
This book is a work of outlaw fiction. Names, logos, symbols of motorcycle clubs are not to be mistaken for real motorcycle clubs. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of Gypsy’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Disclaimer: The material in this book contains explicit language, strong violence, and graphic sex intended for mature audiences, 18+.
Cover Design by RJ & Gypsy Reed
Beta/Proofreading
Sticky Nikki, Sassy Ash & RJ
All images used in promotion of this book/series including book covers sourced from Shutterstock/Canva.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Disclaimer
BLURB
DEDICATION
Introduction
Mayhem Guide
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
CHAPTER | Twenty-Eight
CHAPTER | Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER | Thirty
CHAPTER | Thirty-One
CHAPTER | Thirty-Two
CHAPTER | Thirty-Three
CHAPTER | Thirty-Four
CHAPTER | Thirty-Five
CHAPTER | Thirty-Six
CHAPTER | Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER | Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER | Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER | Forty
CHAPTER | Forty-One
CHAPTER | Forty-Two
CHAPTER | Forty-Three
CHAPTER | Forty-Four
CHAPTER | Forty-Five
CHAPTER | Forty-Six
CHAPTER | Forty-Seven
CHAPTER | Forty-Eight
Thanks
Glossary of terms
Further Reading: Chronicles of Chloe
Also By Gypsy Reed
About the Author
BLURB
OUTLAW LIFE LIKE THE road is full of turns, the trick is to lean into them.
A freak ice-storm in Kansas brings a stranger into the Knights of Mayhem midst. Her presence will ultimately turn their outlaw world upside down. A new rival mc operating in Mayhem territory is quickly extinguished, prompting the mc’s expansion further south, patching over a support club.
Sparks fly between the fiery stranger and Cameron “Big” Hunter. Once burned by a psycho ex, the huge brother with a heart of gold isn’t nearly as gun shy as he should be. Good thing he has a VP like KC to turn an already tense situation into a total clusterfuck.
Loyalties are tested, rules are broken, and limits never explored implode. It only proves the saying is true: Karma can screw you nine ways to Sunday, even on the good days...when you’re an outlaw.
HUMMINGBIRD is the second installment and first full-length novel in the Knights of Mayhem MC Series. It follows the lives of a 1% club of midwestern outlaw bikers circa 1970s. Your enjoyment would be enhanced by reading the prequel novella Tru Murphy which sets up their criminal world while also serving as an introduction to some of the key players in a long cast of characters.
DEDICATION
for all mc/biker/outlaw romance fans...
ride or die bitches
&
the fearless men who fly down highways with nothing between them and death but a bit of leather, a brain bucket, and a huge pair of cojones.
“When freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free.”-Tom Robbins
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Introduction
THIS BOOK SERIES IS about Outlaw Bikers, the one-percenters and is neither an endorsement nor a condemnation of that lifestyle. Its purpose is to entertain the reader.
I cannot state enough that this book and indeed the entire series is for mature readers. It’s not for those easily offended by pretty much anything. If the word “Fuck” makes you drop your kindle like it’s on fire, you probably shouldn’t read this story. You won’t be able to handle my outlaws or their world. I hate to lose you as a reader, I truly do, but I’d rather you not read it than get angry with me and shred what I’ve put so much of my time and heart into over a liberal sprinkling of F-bombs. This outlaw series is ten years in the making. I let these outlaws take over my mind then about five years ago when they still wouldn’t shut the hell up? I plotted the Mayhem MC Saga. Even though this book is part of a series I tried to satisfy those readers who loathe cliffhangers by giving it a standalone feel. So, I hope you stick around for this ride, it’s really not what you’re expecting. I can promise you that. Hell, I wrote it and it’s stunned me repeatedly. I will say that none of my beta readers had a problem with the language and were adamantly against toning it down in any way. I have to trust them, they’re my ride or die bitches. Okay, so one of them is a guy, but as you will soon learn if you keep reading, a bitch has both positive and negative connotations and is not necessarily a woman. I hope you enjoy this ride with Mayhem! Please consider leaving a rating or review or simply recommend this series to your friends.
Mayhem Guide
AUTHOR’S NOTE: THE characters, clubs, syndicates in this world are many, but for clarity I’ve outlined those featured or mentioned in this book for the reader.
MC’s
Knights of Mayhem-Big, KC, Mitch, Preach, West, Paps, Pip, Edge (Nomad)
Chaos (support)-Luke, Jace, Edge (Nomad)
Death Dealers
Syndicates
Petrov Bratva-Alexei
Volkov Bratva
Family/Friends/Enemies
Tru & Sara Jane Murphy
Butch, Trish & Rebel Bradshaw
Jinx Marshall
Beth Creed
Sheriff Dutch Long
Michelle Long
Chassis
Davis
Honey French
Nadine & Naomi Weston
The MC Brats-Tink, Sin, & Cam
Motel Mystery Man???
CHAPTER
One
KANSAS
1975
A successful run does not mean an easy one. Karma can fuck you nine ways to Sunday, even on the good days, when you’re an outlaw.
“Scoot over, bitch.” West crowded Big into the diner’s booth while the road dust from their leathers fogged the air like smoke.
“If you could ride like you run your mouth brother, we’d be home by now.” Big pushed back and West narrowly avoided toppling onto the grimy floor.
KC sat with his legs stretched, back against the wall, motioning the only waitress of the night over to their booth. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back on the road, then I won’t have to listen to you two whining pussies.”
“Coffee?” tucking stray strands from her beleaguered bun behind her ear, their waitress, Nadine her name tag read, gave their VP an appreciative perusal.
The bitter asshole got more pussy placed in front of him than a gynecologist. He was a magnet for those chicks who like their dick with a side of danger and indifference. Their Prez Mitch once referred to KC as the strongest ally any outlaw could have and an enemy you’d never want to make. Look up grave motherfucker in Webster’s, and there was a mugshot of KC under it. The man only ever cracked skulls, rarely a smile.
“Three. Steak and eggs all around.”
“How do ya want that?”
“Rare and easy.”
“Any dessert?” A flush infused her tired face, making her mousiness instantly more attractive.
Big’s attention divided between the crass innuendo at their table and the disheveled young woman a few booths down.
“Anything special on the menu?” KC gave her the look, the one that melts panties and promises.
“Like what?” her eyebrows peeked, a gap-tooth smile splitting her face. The Knights of Mayhem VP wasn’t altogether picky with a piece of tail. He claimed there were only two kinds of pussy, old and new.
KC didn’t do old pussy.
He beckoned her closer, whispering in her ear. Her mouth fell open, eyes sliding closed, face turning the same shade of red as the vinyl they sat on.
West snorted, reclining back, accidentally kicking KC under the table who pulled away from a very flustered waitress, only to pin West with a dead man’s stare.
“Sorry, VP. So tired, feels like we were ridin for days.” West yawned while stretching a second time, more carefully.
“Pussy.” Big mimicked, scratching the recent growth of blonde stubble on his jaw. Knees jamming the underside of the table, his tall stature made it impossible to find comfort in a booth he did not fit in, such was the life of a man of Big’s stature.
“You are what you eat,” West eyed their coffee’s arrival like a fat kid eyes his birthday cake.
KC gave a subtle tilt of his chin, “Leave the pot.”
“It’ll get cold.”
“It won’t last that long.” Big’s attention returned to study that chick who sat all by her lonesome.
“Kay.” Nadine sashayed away while KC watched her plump ass jiggle.
The chick who held Big’s attention wore a skullcap which made her appear younger, best guess? Barely legal. Her eyes met his while giving him a chin lift. An acknowledgment that meant something different in outlaw circles, for him and his brothers. She couldn’t know what it meant.
The waitress brought their orders, Big had to ask “That girl over there, she here long?”
“For a while. Some random trucker dropped her off. Boss doesn’t like people loiterin, but it’s cold out, and she wasn’t even wearing a coat.” Her empathy didn’t extend to the point of acknowledging the girl’s hunger or doing anything about it. Big found that to be true by how she avoided watching the three of them eat.
“Get her something to eat,” KC growled around his mouthful of eggs, while giving Big a very brief glance.
The waitress had the decency to look chagrined before approaching the girl.
Big had an eye for detail, especially concerning women. Like he knew for a fact, she was no lot lizard. They could afford a meal, and most whores dolled themselves up, he’d bet this chick didn’t own a tube of Chapstick. In his youth, Big knew hunger, so it didn’t sit right with him to eat in front of a starving young woman.
After the waitress left her, she met his eyes and mouthed the words “Thank you.” Damn, those lips were cute.
He gave her his warmest smile and returned the chin lift. She held his eyes a moment longer stirring her cocoa.
The door opened, bringing with it a bitter draft of frigid air. The soft twangy notes of a country song from the jukebox couldn’t hide the rather pathetic nature of the door chime.
Like a death knell.
The entering patron could have been a trucker or any countless number of things, but all of them wrong. Outlaws had a radar, letting them instantly know fellow travelers on their wayward side of the law. Big could smell trouble, like bacon scorching on cast iron, acrid and foul yet shamefully hunger-inducing all the same.
West yammered on with a mouthful of food while KC ignored him, only grunting occasionally. Big couldn’t hear what the grease stain said to her, thanks to his best friend’s propensity for gab, but noticed that whatever his words, unhappiness was the result.
“Just give me my bag, Vince.” Her voice held an angelic lilt to it, but her face was as stoic as their VP’s.
Following her outside; the guy glanced back in a bullshit obvious move that spoke loads more about not only his intentions but his intelligence too.
“Get up man, let me out.” Big watched them through the windows as they disappeared from his view.
“I ain’t done eating yet.”
“Yes, you are.” Big shoved him out, this time there was no missing the filthy floor.
“Damnit Big!”
“Brother, you know what you’re doin?” KC looked up, eyes locking on him as he set his utensils on top of his half-eaten plate.
He couldn’t answer his VP, which was normally a mistake. Truth was, he didn’t know what he was doing. Big only felt he needed to do it.
Exiting the diner, he braced against air cold enough to cut while surveying the parking lot. Snow flurries swirled in their chaotic fall to the coarse gravel, creating a dynamic yet beautiful contrast to the blackness of midnight.
Next to a dull gray delivery truck with no identifying decals stood the wearer of a skullcap and the misfortunate who seemed dead set on antagonizing her.
She kept her distance, shivering wildly as they argued while also exhibiting an intelligence her antagonist lacked in her reluctance to get any closer to the asshole. Good girl. Big was doubtful a coat existed in the contents of a duffle that small.
The pace of his long legs increased until only a few feet remained between the outlaw and the surprised couple, “Give the lady her bag, scab.” Big couldn’t imagine a more perfect word to describe the acne-scarred face that became clear. He needed scraping off, and Big felt like doing it.
Big hated bullies.
Her bully’s slick mug showed no shred of apprehension. That made him either a moron, lacking the instinct most possess for self-preservation or possibly connected.
“Ain’t none of your business scooter trash, mayhem pussy.” He spat at Big’s size 14 shit kickers. Perhaps his aggressive ‘show no fear’ tactics worked in making most men back down...Big wasn’t most men and that had little to do with his size.
“I know I don’t look it, but I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Name’s Big cause everything I do, I do that way, or I stay the hell home. That’s a personal rule most men should follow. If you want to be a man, you clearly lack that problem. Picking on a woman and shit. I think we both know who’s the cunt.” He returned the favor, hocked up a phlegm glob, then hit him with it between the eyes.
Th
e greaseball dropped the bag, bowing up, curling his hands into fists “I don’t give two shits who you are cornbread or who the hell you're affiliated with. You just stepped in a heap of trouble, and too big and dumb to know it.” Nothing about his physical stance belied he was anything but ready to throw down. The trucker was obviously on something to not have any fear of a man his size who could easily snap him like a twig.
Big looked down at him, hearing the gravel crunch under booted footfalls behind him. The guy finally had the common sense to look nervous as he backed down.
Damn right, cocksucker.
Three against one. He may be dumb enough to take on one outlaw, but every man turned into a colossal cunt at the prospect of taking on three.
“Sonsofbitches.” Glancing at her first, then the Mayhem members he faced. The ugly coward kicked her bag toward them, where Big picked it up like the gentleman his grandma taught him to be.
“Thanks.” her breath created a plume of smoke while sincerity lit her eyes as he handed her the duffle.
A smile graced his face as they all turned around to go back inside. After a few steps he turned his head so he could see her face again, “What’s your name?”
Her mouth opened, a shrill squeak exiting it as she vanished from his sight. Big’s eyes widened, head turning to follow her disappearance as she collided with the grill of the delivery truck. The petite girl that she was, she went airborne for a moment, grabbed by the collar and tossed like a penny...by a dead man.
Big pivoted on his motorcycle boot, tackling him to the ground with a loud crunch on the freshly fallen snow. Some bikers didn’t have reservations about hurting women, they slapped around their old ladies and shit like that. Big was never one of those men. His enormous fists pounded without mercy into the struggling piece of shit. Flesh gave and bones cracked, his knuckles splitting open, muscles flexing, his lungs burned before he felt any compulsion to cease. Big hadn’t realized he had that much hostility pent up inside. He often purged any frustrations with sexual exertions, the results of which made him agreeable and damn near jovial much of the time.
Tru Murphy