Shadow’s Surrender Read online

  SHADOW’S SURRENDER

  AN INSURGENTS MC ROMANCE

  CHIAH WILDER

  Copyright © 2019 by Chiah Wilder

  Kindle Edition

  Editing by Lisa Cullinan

  Cover design by Cheeky Covers

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please purchase only authorized additions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events 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.

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  Insurgent MC Series:

  Hawk’s Property

  Jax’s Dilemma

  Chas’s Fervor

  Axe’s Fall

  Banger’s Ride

  Jerry’s Passion

  Throttle’s Seduction

  Rock’s Redemption

  An Insurgent’s Wedding

  Outlaw Xmas

  Wheelie’s Challenge

  Christmas Wish

  Animal’s Reformation

  Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 1 – 4)

  Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 5 – 8)

  Night Rebels MC Series:

  STEEL

  MUERTO

  DIABLO

  GOLDIE

  PACO

  SANGRE

  ARMY

  ARMY

  Night Rebels MC Romance Series: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club Box Set (Book 1 – 4)

  Nomad Biker Romance Series:

  Forgiveness

  Retribution

  Steamy Contemporary Romance:

  My Sexy Boss

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  Notes from Chiah

  Author’s Note

  About Chains

  Other Books by Chiah Wilder

  Prologue

  Pinewood Springs

  Nineteen years before

  Stevie sat up with a jolt, blinking to focus his eyes in the darkness. The familiar thud of his father’s footsteps on the stairs filled the boy’s ears as fear burned in his veins like liquid fire. He glanced over at the nightstand and the red light from the clock radio his mother had given him for his birthday glowed 3:47 a.m. When his father hadn’t come home after the bars had closed, the boy thought his dad wouldn’t show up until the morning as was his routine more times than not. No such luck—and from the way he was walking, he was drunk … again.

  “Dammit!” his father’s voice bounced off the hallway walls. “Why doesn’t that stupid brat keep his shit in his room?”

  The knot in Stevie’s stomach coiled tighter and his heart pounded as he listened to the Transformer Nemesis Pax figure break apart. He clutched the sheets and brought them up to his chin while he inched toward the edge of the bed, his gray eyes fixed on the doorknob.

  The door burst open and the boy stared at the menacing form as it staggered toward him. Stevie slipped off the mattress and tried to crawl away, but his father rushed over to him, grabbed one of his arms, and yanked him toward him. The carpet on the bedroom floor burned the back of his leg.

  “Lemme alone!” he cried out as his father jerked him up then tightened his grip on both underarms, thumbs digging between the muscles.

  “What have I told you about leaving your shit in the hallway?” His breath stank of alcohol.

  “I’m sorry,” Stevie mumbled.

  “You didn’t think I was comin’ home, did you?” His father’s eyes narrowed.

  The boy just stared into his dad’s bloodshot eyes.

  “Answer me!”

  “Russ, leave him alone,” his mother’s voice filtered from across the darkened room.

  “Stay outta this, Carmen, or you know what you’ll get!” For a split second, Russ looked over his shoulder then back at his son. “I told you to answer me.”

  Stevie’s arm ached and a surge of defiance pushed away his fear. Staring his father straight in the eyes, he lifted his chin. “No, and I’m sorry as hell you did.” His mother’s gasp echoed in his ears right before he was slammed against the wall with a thud. Pain ripped through his body.

  “What did you say?” his dad gritted out.

  Stevie hung his head to avoid his father’s gaze and looked over at the box of Legos his mother had given him that morning for his eleventh birthday.

  His dad grabbed his hair. “What the hell did you say?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “Tell me what you said!”

  “Russ, stop this now! Leave Stevie alone. You’re drunk—just go to bed.” His mother came over and tried to pull her husband off the boy.

  Without even a sidelong glance, his father backhanded his mother and then slammed Stevie against the wall again.

  Falling on the floor, the boy looked up and glared at his father. “I said, I’m sorry you came home. You wanna hear more? I wish you would never come home. Never!”

  “You little shit!” His dad kicked him in the stomach, and the boy cried out and crawled away.

  “Never! Never! Never!” Gasping between words, Stevie tried to make it to the closet, but his father followed alongside him. Then he bent down on his haunches, his elbows on his knees.

  “You ungrateful bastard!”

  “Russ! Stop it!”

  Stevie saw his father’s hand balling into a fist and he prepared for the blow that would land on his face.

  All of a sudden his dad’s face twisted in pain. “Fuck!” He jerked back and held his head between his hands as he slumped down on the carpet.

  “Go downstairs and call the police,” his mother said as she placed the desk lamp on the nightstand.

  “What the hell did you do to me, Carmen?”

  Stevie scrambled to his feet. “I’m not going unless you come with me.” After years of watching his father slap his mother around he didn’t want to take any chances, especially since this was the first time she’d fought back.

  “I’ll be fine, honey. J
ust go.”

  “Not unless you come downstairs too.”

  Nodding, she reached out and ran her fingers through his thick black hair. “You always look out for your mama, don’t you? You’re my shadow … always with me.” She grasped her son’s hand and they ambled out of the room, his father’s groans growing fainter as they walked down the stairs.

  Chapter One

  Sixteen years ago

  If his father would’ve been locked up for a long time or had gone away, it would’ve been the perfect ending to an existence of fear, anger, and hurt, but life didn’t work that way. At least it didn’t seem to for Steve Basson. His father spent a few weeks in jail, then wooed his way back into his mother’s heart. All was good for a while until his dad’s old ways crept back in: chasing every skirt in town, getting drunk, and hitting on his wife and son.

  At fourteen years old, Steve had grown much taller and had begun to fill out, and he’d also adopted the nickname his mother had given him a few years back—“Shadow.” Now when his father hit on his mother, Shadow put up a battle, transferring his dad’s wrath to him over his mother’s protestations.

  It was a cold winter night when the front doorbell rang at one in the morning. The chimes sounded odd at that hour in the quiet of the house. Shadow had reached the door first and grasped the knob. His mother shuffled toward him, her long fingers tying the sash around her robe.

  “Who could it be?” she whispered.

  Shadow looked through the peephole and saw two police officers. “Cops. Dad’s probably gotten himself in trouble again.” He pulled the door open.

  “Mrs. Basson?” one of the cops asked, looking over Shadow’s shoulder.

  “Yes.” She gripped her son’s arm.

  “May we come in?”

  “Just say what you need to right where you’re at,” Shadow grumbled.

  The older officer threw a hard look at the teenager. “Who are you?”

  “Sha—Steve Basson. Why’re you here?”

  The younger cop fidgeted in place, glancing at Shadow then at his mom. “Is Russell Basson your husband?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers dug deeper into Shadow’s skin.

  The older uniform cleared his throat. “We’re sorry to inform you, but your husband was killed this evening in an alley behind the Old Miner’s Bar.”

  His mother sagged against Shadow, and he wrapped his arm around her. The only thing Shadow felt was relief upon learning of his father’s death. It turned out that some guy had slit his father’s throat—ear to ear—in a fight that had spilled out of the dive bar his dad had frequented every weekend for as long as Shadow could remember. The only thought that kept flitting through his brain was: We’re finally free of the sonofabitch.

  Losing his tyrannical father that day threw him and his mother into a financial tailspin, but for Shadow, the peace in the household was worth losing their family home and moving into a rusted trailer in the seedier part of Pinewood Springs. There was a five-year waitlist for government housing, so a friend of a friend of his mother’s had hooked her up with a landlord who only cared about the rent, and they had moved in just before Shadow’s fifteenth birthday.

  It was hotter than hell in the trailer that night, and the three fans blowing the stagnant air around the tiny living room weren’t doing shit to cool anything off. Beads of sweat rolled down Shadow’s back as he walked over to the fridge and grabbed a Coke. He ran the cold can over his face and around his neck before popping it open and guzzling it down. He crushed the can and tossed it into the trashcan.

  “Remember to stay inside,” his mother said as she adjusted her stockings. “These damn things are clinging to my legs, it’s so hot.”

  Shadow looked away. He hated that his mother had to work at a strip bar to pay the damn bills. Every time he brought up quitting school to work at Crossroad’s Ranch in the valley, he and his mother would get into a fight, and it always ended the same—Shadow promising to stay in school until he graduated. The measly part-time job he had at Hanson’s Barber Shop in town barely covered the electric bill.

  “I’m gonna hang out for about an hour with Eli,” he said, avoiding his mother’s eyes.

  “No, you’re not. I don’t want you running around at night when I’m not here or getting into any trouble. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

  Fuck! “It’s just for an hour and we’re gonna hang around here.”

  “I don’t like the people who live here.”

  Shadow felt his mom’s arms wrap around his waist; she was standing behind him, and he could smell the coconut perfume she always wore. She told him that it made her feel like she was on vacation at a beach resort. How he wished he could take her to one of those islands she was always talking about.

  “Ma,” he wriggled out of her grasp, “I’m almost sixteen. I can go to Eli’s house—he lives in a nice neighborhood and you’ve met his parents before. I hate sitting around here all the time.”

  His mother blinked rapidly. Fuck—she’s gonna cry. Why the fuck don’t I keep my big mouth shut? “Okay, Ma, I’ll stay here. You know, I worry about you when you’re at work. There’re a lot of creeps at Satin Dolls.”

  “I watch myself. Anyway, if all goes the way I think it will, I won’t have to work there too much longer.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I may have a good prospect. I better go—I’ll be late for work. Stay inside, okay?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled as he watched her walk away.

  Shadow never thought about his mother dancing—that would just be too weird, so instead, he pretended that she was a bartender at Satin Dolls and that seemed to work for the most part.

  After an hour, Shadow called Eli and told him he was coming by in a half hour. For the past six months, Shadow had been going out at night even though he knew his mother would be livid. He always made sure to come back before she returned from work. He and his best buddy, Eli, usually hooked up with some other friends and they’d just hang out at the diner or the park. Sometimes they’d pick up chicks, graffiti some street signs and buildings, go to the movies—Eli always paid for him—or play pool at Cues. Dirk, the owner, let them come in after 10:00 p.m. even though they were underage. One of Dirk’s friends, Banger, came around sometimes, and he had one of the coolest motorcycles Shadow had ever seen. Each time Banger set foot in the pool hall, he’d go over to Shadow and talk to him for a bit. Shadow looked up to him, and he admired how the biker commanded respect the minute he’d walk into Cues. When Shadow found out Banger was the president of the Insurgents MC—an outlaw club in town, he wasn’t surprised. Banger spent time telling him about the ride and how motorcycles worked, and the more he talked, the more Shadow wanted to be part of the MC world someday.

  Shadow kept the desire to own a Harley-Davidson and to check out the Insurgents’ clubhouse when he turned eighteen—Banger’s rule, not his—to himself, not even confiding in Eli. As far as his mother was concerned, he would graduate high school then go to Pinewood Community College for a couple of years and get a good-paying job. Shadow didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wanted something more than to be tied down to a nine-to-five job.

  Several weeks later, his mom started coming home with bags of new clothes for him, a new computer, and a new phone.

  “Where’re you getting all this money from?” Shadow asked before he shoved a forkful of hamburger casserole into his mouth.

  “I’ve been saving all my tips.” His mother put another scoop of green beans on his plate.

  “Enough,” he said, lightly pushing her hand away.

  “You need to eat more vegetables to stay healthy,” she replied as she put the spoon back into the serving bowl.

  Shadow put his fork down and stared at his mom. “Now tell me the truth about where the money’s coming from, and I don’t believe for a minute it’s from your tips.”

  Carmen touched the bottom of the sterling silver pendant with her fingers. Since he’d bo
ught it for her birthday a few months before, his mother always wore it. He’d seen it at one of the booths selling Navajo jewelry at a biker rally Banger had invited him to. The minute Shadow had seen the pendant, he’d thought of his mother. The cross was sterling silver with red coral and turquoise inlaid in the intricate design. It dangled on a silver chain. The price for the necklace was out of his range, but Banger had offered to loan him the money, and Shadow had been paying the biker back a few dollars every week.

  “Are you selling drugs?” He picked up his fork again and speared a couple of string beans.

  His mother’s eyes widened. “No! How could you ask me that?”

  Shadow chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving his mom’s. “I’m not judging you, Ma. There’s nothing wrong with trying to make some extra money. We’ve been poor long enough.”

  “Don’t ever have anything to do with”—she looked behind her at the broken-down screen door and lowered her voice—“drugs. They’re evil and they’ll destroy you. Have you tried them?” Her blue-gray eyes glistened.

  “No, and stop changing the subject. Where you getting all this money?”

  “I met a man,” she whispered, looking down at her plate. “He’s rich and he wants to help us.”

  “I’m sure he does. Did you meet him at the club?”

  “I’ve seen him around town, but, yes, he comes to the club. We’ve known each other for a while. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until the time was right. He’s a very nice man who has a generous heart.” A smile spread across her face.

  “Are you gonna marry him?”

  “I want to. He’s in the middle of getting a divorce, so we have to keep our relationship low-key for a little bit.” Carmen ran her fingers through her long hair. “Stop looking at me like that—I know what you’re thinking. He is going through a divorce.”

  “Don’t all married dudes say that?” Shadow stood up and took his plate to the sink. “Be careful, Ma, or the jerk’s gonna break your heart.”

  “No, he’s not. The only one in my heart is you, and there’s no room for anyone else. I want you to have a better life.” She stood up and came over to him. “I want to get outta this dump—you deserve a safer place to live and … I want to stop dancing.”