Iconic (Adrenaline Series Book 6) Read online

  In a hushed tone, I mumble, “Butcher.”

  The BV MC isn't something I recommend you fuck with. They operate on principals from the Viking era. Sure, there are slight modern twists like motorcycles instead of ships, kinky sex play instead of raping women, but the similarities of massacring their enemies are more than enough to make up for their contemporary upgrades. If it wasn't for them trying to kill one of my brother's girlfriends there's a high chance we would've never crossed paths. But it's a good thing we did. To say we have a common enemy would be underselling the situation.

  “A face that pretty shouldn't be in a bar like this,” Butcher jokes before taking the drink the busty blonde waitress is offering. “Damn sure won't stay that pretty for long.”

  “Butcher, McCoys were in this bar long before you were old enough to rub one out.” Casually I have a sip as he chuckles. “You got word for me?”

  A grunt comes out. “Not a good one. Turns out The Devil is playing a game of hide and seek.”

  The Devil. Not the fucker with a pointy tail and horns. No. This man is much worse. He's also at the root of the deaths of my family. Once upon a time we were all on the same side. Life wasn't good, but it was better. Then he used my baby brother like some sort of fucking puppet before killing him. The BV MC and I share the same simple important principle. Don't fuck with family.

  “We've kicked over a few hives. Got nothing. He's scared.”

  I growl, “He should be.”

  Butcher nods and has a sip. “We'll keep looking. He'll show up. A man like that can't stay hidden for too long. Makes him anxious.”

  Between the BV MC searching for him as a favor to us, the Commissioner burning down his chances of escaping, and the hatred I have forcing me to hunt him down like the last deer of the season, his days alive are numbered. And it's a low one.

  “Appreciate it.”

  “Yeah.” After another sip he stands. “You need anything else McCoy, you know how to reach me.” There's a heavy pat on my shoulder before he strolls away towards one of the pool tables they occupy.

  Saints isn't exclusively a biker bar. Over the years it's just become that way. There are older regulars who happen to still stumble into the place. The MC members learned early what happens when you fuck with one of Patrick's loyal customers. He shot a guy in the middle of a Sunday afternoon in the lung. It was a warning shot. Word spread Saints was to be a peaceful place. Has been ever since.

  Jenny, the other blonde bartender leans forward for me to look down her top. “You ever gonna finish that, so I can give it a refill?”

  Been there. Fucked that. Wasn't worth it. Fuck. They're never fucking worth it. Oh, and the one that would be fucking worth it deserves better than the sad excuse for a human being sitting in this goddamn chair.

  “Nope.”

  She smirks, tosses the rag over her shoulder and rests on her forearms. “Goin' home alone tonight, McCoy?”

  “Yup.”

  “Again?”

  My eyes pin hers. “Yup.”

  “You don't want company?”

  “Nope.”

  I've had enough offers of company that would baffle most. Reputation of how fantastic McCoys are in bed spread early in my life. It was never the intent. I didn't wake up one morning wanting to make a name for us. It just happened. Fuck a chick really fucking good or not enough, she fucking talks. Some of the shit in the beginning that got passed around were just rumors with my name attached. The best stories were true. Eventually, my triplet brothers followed in my footsteps relishing in the pre-paved path. By the time Merrick and Ben were on the dick dipping scene, they didn't have to do much more than say their name. McCoy legends are far and wide. Never mind the fact I rarely fuck any more. Don't bother asking me why.

  “Run along, Jenny,” Herman says scooting to the stool beside me. “He's not looking for action tonight.”

  Jenny pouts, but does as she's told.

  Calling her action is an exaggeration. I don't mind doing the work in bed. Hell, I fucking enjoy it, but at least do something like lift your goddamn legs on your own. Fucking her was what I imagine fucking a blow up doll must be like.

  I toss my head at him. “Thanks Herm.”

  “Yeah. You look like you needed it.”

  “I can handle my own.”

  “You're a bloody McCoy. Of course you can.” He scratches his salt and pepper beard. “That was your father's motto.”

  Hearing that makes me do something I don't do often. Smile.

  Herman used to work at the McCoy Mechanic Shop long before it became what it is now. He was one of my dad's closest friends before he went to prison the first time. When he got out, they rarely saw each other. I only know that because it was one of the first stories he told me when I ran into him a couple years ago. He begged me not to hold it against him. Explained how his wife made him choose between her and their daughter and working for a criminal. Family first. Can't hate a man for that. Anyway, I come here to be away from my family. Away from seeing the results of my destructive ways. For just a minute while I'm here, I can almost taste normality.

  “Got your old man on your mind?”

  A hum comes from me.

  I'm the oldest of his kids. The oldest, the most responsible, and definitely the one that was just fucking like him. When Mom died giving birth to Merrick, I then became second in command. When he started his stints in and out of prison, I had to take his place as head of the household. It's a place I've never stopped being.

  “You only come here twice in one week when you're thinkin' about him.”

  “You know my schedule?” I turn my head to the balding man. “Are we boning, Herm?”

  “You couldn't handle this.” He waves a hand down his body. “Don't pretend.”

  After a little chuckle, I shake my head. “I would never pretend to fuck that.”

  “What's got him on your mind?”

  Quietly I answer, “The usual.”

  “Bullshit.”

  My jaw twitches. I stay silent.

  “Try again.”

  Instead of disputing I shake my head.

  “Your old man was stubborn too, but at least he knew when to ask for help.”

  “Maybe I don't need any fucking help.”

  “You clearly need fucking help,” Herman argues bringing his whiskey to his lips. “Only question is what kind. It's not needing to get laid. That offer just walked passed you. Business trouble?”

  My eyes fall to the shot I've been nursing.

  “No. Shop basically runs itself. Your brothers being little shits again?”

  I fight the urge to smirk.

  They're always a pain in the ass. So fucking playful. So fucking happy. I need them happy. It reminds me why I fight so goddamn hard every day to keep moving forward. Now they're all in love and shit. They need me less. I'm fucking happy for them even if it hurts.

  “I remember when those fuckers were born. I told Max, 'There's no way in hell you and Cass can handle triplets'. You know what he said?”

  “I want one more.”

  “Dick,” the old man mutters. “Walked around like king of the goddamn world. All the time. Didn't matter if he didn't have a fucking dime to his name that day. Still...king shit. You know why?”

  Nodding slowly I grip my glass tighter. “Because he had us.”

  “Because he had you,” he echoes. “That was enough for him. You need to ask yourself Madden, when is that gonna be enough for you?”

  Pressing my lips to the edge of the glass, I let the burn of the tequila numb the stirring of emotions inside.

  It's a damn good question. Too bad I'm the reason he's not around now to help me answer it.

  Knoxie

  On an annoyed sigh, I lean back in the bar top chair at the apartment I share with the infamous McCoy brothers.

  Look, fact of the matter is, we're family. We've been running together since I was five and even if I've quietly been in love with the oldest, grumpiest, and f
ucking dumbest one, it doesn't mean we can't all live together in harmony. Actually living under one roof actually makes the most sense. With the amount of time we spend together between working at the shop that's down below and hanging out, it only made sense Madden created a room for me too when he had this location built. However, why he had to build it directly across from his is the real fucking question. It's like we're a couple in the 30s or 50s yet instead of double beds, it's double rooms. We're not fucking either. Only difference between them and us aside from the obvious is we never will be.

  “Knox if you grip that cup any tighter it's gonna shatter,” Drew teases from the kitchen table across from his living triplet brother, Destin.

  We lost Daniel a couple months ago. They're both still coping. Fuck, we all are honestly. Luckily for them they each have a little help from some of the most beautiful and most intelligent women. How they found aces to put up with them is a miracle in itself. Trust me.

  “Would you like me to use your head to shatter it faster?” I threaten.

  Destin tosses his head back in laughter, the fresh waffles Melody made rolling around.

  “And chew with your mouth closed. We're not in a barn, even if you two used to treat this apartment like a stable.”

  Melody giggles and slides into Drew's lap. “Was it really that bad?”

  “Don't answer that,” Drew pleads to me. “She thought I was a virgin when we met.”

  The look on Mel's face has us all laughing again.

  She's been a good addition. I like to think we've been a good one for her as well. She has her own fucked up story. I mean, really though? We all do. Right?

  “I will give you a hundred dollars right now if you can even name the girl you first gave it up to,” I say smugly.

  Drew drops his mouth to reply but realizes quite quickly he doesn't know the answer.

  Yeah. They were all once that slutty. Then they fell in love.

  Madden's heavy steps cause me to glance over my shoulder.

  Except that asshole.

  “Tulips. It's always tulips.” Madden says before hanging up the phone.

  Who the fuck is he sending flowers to? Why would you send flowers to a one night stand? Unless...what if he's got a girl he's keeping from us?

  Severely irked by the thought I sneer, “Guess it wasn't a great piece of ass if she can't even make the walk of shame this morning.”

  Grumbling he grabs the orange juice container from the fridge. “Too fucking early, Knox.”

  Madden McCoy. If you looked up the definition of brooding his sharp, perfect cut picture would be plastered next to it. He's got that whole tall, large frame, tatted, bossy thing that makes me much hotter than I care to discuss with anyone. I've been in love with him since we were old enough to eat glue together and been trying to figure out a clean way to kill him for approximately the same amount of time. What? I'm not bitter that he fucks women where I have to hear. Just annoyed. Highly, severely, wanna puncture their vocal cords, annoyed.

  “In fact, I didn't even hear her last night.”

  He stops his body across from mine. “Why were you listening?”

  “Why didn't you sound proof the walls of this fucking place?”

  “That's a good question,” Destin pipes up. “I mean, you knew how much trouble we were up to back then. You had to know it was only gonna get worse.”

  When this place was first built it felt like the parties never stopped. Hell between Ben, Merrick, and Daniel, I'm pretty sure they lasted for weeks with intermissions just long enough for brief amounts of sleep and work to be completed.

  “That's why we don't have neighbors,” Madden states.

  “But you have me,” I add. “And I don't particularly like listening to the mating rituals of the McCoys.” Casually I cut my face to Mel. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” She shrugs. “We do get a little loud.”

  “A little loud?” Destin furrows his eyebrows. “Pretty sure my T.V. is gonna fall off the wall.”

  “We don't even share a wall!” Drew snaps back.

  “Exactly!”

  “Enough,” Madden grunts after having a drink.

  “Ot oh. The Mighty Madden McCoy has spoken,” I mock finishing the last of my coffee. “Now the day can actually begin.”

  Drew and Destin snicker, but Madden doesn't so much as crack an expression.

  Before anything else can be said there's a heavy knock on the front door. “Come on, McCoys! I know you've got breakfast!”

  I give Melody a stern warning as she gets up to answer the door. “Don't feed him. He's like a stray mutt. You feed him once next thing you know he's gonna be begging for you to pet him.”

  “You will never pet him,” Drew jealousy growls.

  Destin laughs briefly before Drew kicks him under the table.

  They're so damn identical and so damn different, it's a mind fuck. Looks wise, from the jump off, it looks like someone photo shopped them. Mere copy and paste, which is a skill they've used to do everything from help one of them get laid, to pass a class, to conduct the illegal business we used to be a part of but aren't any more. However, while they may look and at times act like the same person, Triple D as we refer to them as, are all very different.

  Melody opens the door and Wrench, our latest mechanic bursts in. “Fuck, I can smell that shit downstairs!”

  We went to school with him. His half-brother was actually one of Madden's best friends and one of the few secrets I kept from my favorite McCoy over the years. What happened between us...let's just say as much fun as it is to make Madden's head spin 'round, I'm not sure he'd forgive me so quickly. But um...back to Wrench. After graduation he bolted like a bat out of hell for anywhere but here. Recently he moved back and needed a job. We needed the man power. Seemed like an easy fit.

  “Asshole, say good morning,” Madden commands.

  “Sorry.” Wrench surrenders his hands. Immediately he smirks at Mel. “Good morning.”

  “Wrench, if you want the morning to stay that way, you won't ever look at my girl like that again. We clear?”

  “Clear,” Wrench quickly states. “Can I get a plate now?”

  All the McCoys are that protective over the women they love. It's adorably disgusting. What? Why are you asking if Madden's protective of me? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Have you been talking to Grandma Maggie without me?

  “Knox,” Madden's voice pulls my eyes back over to him.

  “Present.”

  “Don't make plans after work,” he commands.

  Unsure of his reasons, I snap, “And why the fuck not?”

  “I've already made 'em.”

  And this is Madden. He doesn't ask. He just...speaks and the world does. Sure, he's a little scary as fuck with his dark hair, the jagged scar along his jawbone line, and muscles that can barely be contained in his t-shirts, but that doesn't make him king of the world. More like emperor of the douches. God, I wanna be empress. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Does it involve taking out a restraining order?” My joke causes him to tilt his head. “Please tell me we're going to do something fun like popping the tires to that red Acura bitch who drank the last of my coffee.”

  “That was four months ago.”

  “It still happened.”

  “You can hold a grudge.”

  “Runs in the family.”

  The corner of his lip curls up. “We're doing something important.”

  That's his code phrase for The Devil business. When he originally got involved with him, I was the first one by his side. I was the first one to know. I was the first one to help. Sure it was minor and mainly from a distance, but I was still the first one dragged into it. He didn't want his brothers to have anything to do with that lifestyle. Slowly, circumstances began to change and he had no choice. He had to bring them in. In the beginning he kept as much shit to himself as he could with the exception being me. Now....now times have changed and he shuts me
out from the bigger decisions. I know it's because he doesn't wanna see me hurt. Problem is, being cut out hurts more than anything physically ever could.

  “I can handle important.”

  “You better fucking be able to.” The words are followed with a long, slow, drawn out wetting of his lips. “I need you on this.”

  Effortlessly I reply, “You know you always have me.”