Destroyed. Jackie Ashenden

       CHAPTER ONE

      Summer

      BRAVERY WAS NEVER my strong suit, but I guess it takes a certain amount of courage to talk your way into a biker’s bedroom in an outlaw motorcycle club’s clubhouse purely so you can hide from your father.

      Either that or I was simply stupid, difficult as that was to admit for a person with an IQ score over 170.

      Whatever it was, as I sat on Crash’s bed in his tiny squalid bedroom, my heart racing, listening to the sounds of a heavy driving beat and male laughter going on outside, I was beginning to question my decision big time.

      Two doors separated the bedrooms from the main living area of the clubhouse, but the bikers were so freaking loud I could still hear whatever was going on outside. I didn’t know whether it was a party or what—I’d only ever been in the clubhouse a couple of times before—but whatever it was, it didn’t make me any less nervous.

      Crash had left me in his room, muttering something about why don’t I relax while he went and got us some beers.

      I didn’t really want a beer—I wasn’t a party girl and I didn’t like alcohol—but sitting on Crash’s bed, listening to those sounds outside the door, made the idea of some liquid courage not half-bad.

      Especially since he’d been gone awhile and my anxiousness was starting to tip over into outright fear.

      His room was little more than a closet, the floor covered with dirty clothes and beer cans and all kinds of other things I didn’t want to look at too closely. The bed I was sitting on was unmade and there was a smell to the air that reminded me of my older brother Justin’s room when he was younger. Sweaty teenage boy, musty and a bit rank. It was unpleasant and made me feel sick.

      I wiped my damp palms nervously on my denim mini.

      Okay, maybe it really had been stupid to come here. Then again, I hadn’t known where else to go. I’d been dumb enough to tell Dad about my Silicon Valley job offer, hoping he’d be happy for me, but of course he hadn’t been.

      He’d told me I wasn’t going and that was final, and that he’d do whatever it took to make me stay here in Brooklyn with him.

      I knew what ‘whatever it took’ meant. Emotional manipulation, emotional blackmail, and if I was really unlucky, he might stoop to physical restraint, too. Dad had always hated being told no.

      The quiet and introverted teen I’d once been would have automatically bowed her head and agreed with him. But I’d just come back from three years at college and the time away from him had allowed me some breathing room. I’d had space to grow, to realise that there was a better life out there, one that wasn’t constantly overshadowed by his presence.

      Sure, I was still quiet and introverted, but when he’d told me I couldn’t go, I discovered I had a bit of backbone after all.

      I couldn’t let him take my dream job away from me. I couldn’t let him stop me from trying to live my life. My ticket was booked and I’d be out of here in a couple of days. All I had to do was avoid him so he couldn’t do his usual emotional number on me and get me to change my mind.

      It would have been fine if I’d been a stronger sort of person, but I wasn’t. He always found my vulnerable spots and used them against me, just like the bullies in school used to. I knew I was weak so it was better I take myself out of the equation. Go somewhere he’d never think to find me, never in a million years.

      The Knights of Ruin MC’s clubhouse.

      As police chief, my dad had had a few run-ins with the Knights in the past, though these days he was best buddies with Keep, the Knights’ president. Dad would never expect me to have run here, not to the most notorious MC in the state, and especially not when Keep would give me up to him first chance he got if I was ever discovered here.

      Which was why I’d come in disguise, dressing up the way I’d seen other girls who wanted a walk on the wild side with a bunch of outlaw bikers do—tiny denim miniskirt and stilettos, a tight blue crop top. I’d had to kill the effect by putting a hoodie on over the top, with the hood pulled up, but I couldn’t afford for anyone to see my face. Not that anyone would recognise me these days, but still. Better safe than sorry.

      Getting in had been a problem. The only biker whose name I could remember—other than Keep—was Tiger. He’d once been my bodyguard for a month back when I was in high school and I still remembered him. I could hardly forget him, truth be told, so his name had been the first on my lips when I’d been interrogated by the prospect at the door. Unfortunately, though, Tiger was ‘busy’ and so I’d had to think fast and make up some other lie.

      I wasn’t experienced with men, had no idea that perhaps flashing my tits would have worked better, but luckily at that moment a semifamiliar face had appeared. I’d met Crash only a couple of times, in conjunction with Tiger, and had no idea if he’d remember me or not. I threw myself at him anyway, begging him to let me inside and that I’d make it worth his while.

      He grabbed me around the waist and grinned at the prospect, and before I knew it I’d been bundled down the corridor and into his bedroom.

      Unfortunately, I was starting to think that not only had I been stupid to come here, I’d been naive into the bargain. There were stories about the Knights that I’d heard from various friends, about drunken parties and public sex and threesomes and all kinds of things.

      And now I was in the thick of it.

      Alone.

      So much for my high IQ. Panic had made me stupid. Again.

      More sounds came from outside the door. A man shouting and then the sounds of a scuffle followed by laughter. Something thumped hard against the wall and I jumped in shock.

      God, I wasn’t cut out for this.

      I was just starting to wonder if I could slip right back out again without anyone noticing when the door banged open and Crash came in. He was a good-looking guy, which made me nervous since good-looking guys always did. Actually, men in general made me nervous, good-looking or otherwise.

       You sure picked the wrong place to hide then, didn’t you?

      Given that the clubhouse was full of men, violent and loud, yeah, it really had been.

      ‘Still here?’ he asked, grinning and swaying on his feet.

      I decided not to tell him that he was stating the obvious since men generally didn’t like it when I did that, settling for smoothing my miniskirt instead and trying to smile.

      Okay, so I was naive. But I wasn’t that naive. I knew what girls in MC clubhouses were supposed to do and I knew that Crash hadn’t brought me into his bedroom because he wanted to chat about the finer points of game theory—my favourite subject. He’d brought me here because he thought I was ready for some hot sex.

      As if on cue, he sauntered over from the door, two beers in his hand, then held one out to me. That grin was still on his face and there was a glazed look in his blue eyes. As he stood there swaying, I finally realised what I should have known the moment he’d grabbed me and hustled me into his bedroom: Crash was drunk. Very, very drunk.

      Dammit.

      Drunk guys were always super fun. Not.

      I took the beer, the can cold against my damp palm, and tried to resist the urge to do something about my fear by downing the whole thing in one go.

      ‘So-o-o-o...’ Crash said slowly, lifting his own beer and taking a swig. ‘How long exactly are you planning on keeping your clothes on?’

      My palms got even damper and I could feel myself begin to sweat.

      Sex. I knew that was what he expected, but... Well, my