Resistance Read online

  K E Osborn

  Resistance

  The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 1

  K E Osborn

  Copyright 2018 K E Osborn

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  ISBN: 978-0648112358

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  Cover Image Copyright 2018

  All rights reserved

  Isn't it funny?

  The way your life can alter in the blink of an eye.

  My club – constantly under siege by the Italian mafia.

  My city – in a war lasting two generations caused by our fathers.

  Yet, in amongst the turmoil, I met her.

  In a froyo store.

  This sassy woman who’s ready to throw down and defend her friends against my brothers and me.

  But we aren't the enemies in this story, and little did she know our chance encounter would set us along a different path.

  This story isn't full of partying and fun – it's chaos, carnage, deception, and lies.

  War – it's brutal.

  Can you resist?

  This book has a lot about remembering those who we’ve lost.

  My life changed this year.

  I guess you always know that in the blink of an eye, life can be taken from you.

  Those you cherish, those you hold dear.

  Your life was long.

  It was epic.

  You were loved, and I will always remember my last moments with you.

  For Nanny.

  First and foremost, I would like to thank, my mother Kaylene Osborn for her work as my editor. Not only have you helped me bring this book together, but you made it even better than I thought possible. Thank you for believing in me, in giving me the courage to create another biker club. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being my editor, my mother, my support, and my constant.

  To Cindy/Thia – I love that our love of books has turned into a friendship. I’m so glad to have met and now know you and not only that but to have you helping me with my words. I am so grateful to have you on my team, your help is priceless. You pick up the things I wouldn’t even think were an issue, and I’m so privileged you’re willing to help me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

  To Diana – I wanted to give you an individual mention because you put some extra special effort into the BETA process on this book. Your thoughts and ideas help make certain scenes grow into something much more than they were. Thank you. I’m so happy to have you on my team. You’re always so caring and thoughtful with your BETA process, and it always makes me smile every single time I receive your emails. Even with the constructive feedback. I love you hard, and I couldn’t ever imagine my team without you on it!

  To Carol – It feels like you’re a piece of my puzzle. A K E Osborn book wouldn’t be complete without Carol being a part of it. Every book of mine will go through you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a part of my team, and you will be for the rest of my journey. I hope it’s a long one together. Thank you for being on this ride with me, and thank you for your work on Resistance. You’re the best!

  To all of my awesome BETA readers – Thank you for once again putting your thoughts into this book. I appreciate all of your energy and ideas, and together we make a great team. Without you beautiful ladies, this book wouldn’t be at its best potential. So thank you, every single one of you.

  To Christine – My Hype PR awesomeness guru. Words cannot describe how utterly astounded I am with how lucky I feel to have you on my team. You have brought me into your world and opened me up to new readers, shown me how to do things and kicked my butt when needed. You’re such a wonderful person and a loyal friend. I am so lucky to know you and to have your support. It means the world to me. Never leave me!

  To Nicki – Thank you for proofing the start of my new series. I hope this can be the start of a wonderful journey for us. Your help with this book is thoroughly appreciated, and the support you show myself and Kaylene Osborn is truly amazing. You’re a gorgeous person, and I’m so glad to have you on my team.

  To Jane – When I think back to how we started, it was over a mob of alpha bikers. I was starting out in the MC world, and you were the go-to girl. Kaylene introduced us so I could get some inside goss on how to do it the ‘right way,’ and from there a crazy, beautiful friendship started. I honestly don’t know if it’s sappy to call you my soul sister but fuck it – I love the shit out of you. I can’t imagine my life without you. You really are the best friend a girl could ask for, and I swear if I could, I would move heaven and earth to be closer to you and mini. Thank you for believing in this book, and for believing in me. Thank you for always being there for me – no matter what. I know I’ll always have a friend in you. I love you.

  To Kellie – My amazingly talented cover artist. When I came to you for the cover for Resistance, I only had an idea—I want an image, I don’t know what, and that was all I gave you. This is how good you are. You came back to me with a bunch of ideas, and we came up with the skull necklace, which then became a feature in the story. I love this cover. It’s so unique, and it has that K E Osborn edge that has only come about since I’ve been working with you. I’m so glad I have you on my team. You just… get me!

  To my beautiful, playful and utterly adorable pup, Bella – Honestly this dog has gotten a mention in every single book I have written. I hope she feels special. I’m not sure if any pet could be more spoiled than you Bella Boo. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, pup. You seriously rule my life. I love our cuddles at night, and I can’t imagine my life without you.

  Last of all, I want to thank YOU, the reader. Your continued support of my writing career is both humbling and heartwarming. I adore my readers so much and honestly couldn’t keep going without the love and support you all show me each day. Thank you for believing in me, and I hope I can keep you entertained for many, many years to come.

  Thank you.

  Much love,

  K E Osborn

  xoxo

  Below is a list of terms used in this book, including Italian/Irish/Japanese explanations for your convenience.

  Any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the author.

  Back Door – The last rider in a group ride. Customarily, the most experienced motorcycle rider.

  Bastardo – Bastard.

  Coglione – Sucker, fool (Italian)

  Crotch Rocket – Sports bike

  Cut – Vest with club colors

  Da – Dad (Irish)

  Fanculo – Fuck off (Italian)

  Front Door – First rider in a group ride.

  Gearrchaile – A young girl (Irish)

  Hammer Down – Accelerate quickly.


  Independent – Someone not a part of any club or group, but normally a part of the biker culture.

  Lane Splitting – Driving in a non-lane between cars. Generally frowned upon by the law.

  Li mortacci tua — Your bad dead ancestors. (Family is everything in Italy. So you know you're in trouble if someone starts insulting yours. Especially, dead ones. This Roman expression implies the recipient is descended from ancestors of questionable morality. It’s not to be used lightly.)

  Oyabun – The absolute leader of a yakuza clan.

  Yakuza – Members of organized crime syndicates originating in Japan.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Note to the Reader

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  More Books To Check Out

  Connect With Me Online

  About the Author – K E Osborn

  TORQUE

  The sharp and loud crack of guns going off pierces through the room. The popping and cracking continues to echo through the area as I round the corner, ducking out of the way of the men coming in my direction down the hall. It’s chaos in here for a Friday night, and it’s great to see the place busy for once. The indoor range is packed with marksmen and novices, and the atmosphere is alive and buzzing as I walk along the lengthy hall through to the main section. The popping and cracking of the bullets fade away into the distance as I stroll. People coming and going, analyzing their abilities, testing their aim, whether for sport, pleasure, or to make themselves feel safe in this day and age. We opened this range with a view that everyone could participate. We don’t discriminate.

  I head out into the main foyer, the echo of the bullets still audible, but nowhere near as loud as where I’ve just come from. Nodding to Gunner, our brother who runs the gun range for the club, I step up and tap the counter to gain his attention.

  He glances at me and curls up his lip. “It’s always so fucking loud in here,” he murmurs over another muted round of ammunition being fired off as I chuckle.

  “You pussy. Can’t handle a little fucking noise? What are you, a wimp?” I call back, making him let out a heavy sigh. “I’m getting too old for this shit, Torque.”

  “You do a great job here, Gunner. We’d be lost without you…” I place my hand on his shoulder. “Vibe will be by in a few days for a shipment, just letting you know.”

  He shakes his head telling me he’s annoyed, and he huffs. “Yeah, right. I’ll be here.”

  “Thanks, Gunner…” As I glance around, Trax and Lift are nowhere to be seen. They arrived with me, but as usual, they have vanished into thin air. Those two can’t ever keep to the fucking plan.

  Trax is always a damn loose cannon. He might be my blood brother as well as my VP, but the guy has some crazy-ass ideas of what constitutes a good time. And seeing as we’re on the outskirts of The Heart of Italy—better known as Andretti territory—I can only imagine what the hell he and my Secretary, Lift, are getting into.

  “I better go find those fucking imbeciles, their idea of fun always gets us in trouble.”

  He snorts out a laugh and nods. “Saw them head out about ten minutes ago, Pres. Pretty sure they were headed down toward Gino’s Gym.”

  Rolling my shoulders in annoyance as I let out a throaty groan. “Thanks, Gunner.”

  He tilts his head in acknowledgment, and I step out of the gun range on to the street. The chill in the Chicago night-time air assaults my face as I turn toward the Andretti-owned Gino’s Gym. If Trax and Lift are there, doing what the hell I think they’re doing, I’m going to drill them both new fucking assholes.

  My muscles are tight as I clench my jaw while walking up to the front of the gym. The blaring techno music aggravates my damn ears as I watch the windows vibrate from the sound. I fucking hate how different their gyms are run to ours. It’s like a club scene in there. Give me Led Zeppelin any day instead of this crap music.

  “Fucking Andrettis,” I murmur.

  Gazing up, I notice the ‘Gino’s Gym’ sign proudly displayed on the wall. The lit-up sign has a 3D effect, with illumination behind each letter in a bright purple, and the letters themselves seem to glimmer, or is that glitter. Fuck knows! I close my eyes, sigh, and purse my lips at the absurdity of it all. What are they trying to achieve here precisely—a gym or a damn nightclub? I look around at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on every single fucking wall and spot Trax and Lift inside the gym as I damn-well suspected.

  “Motherfuckers,” I murmur ducking down even though I’m not in the gym. “The damn fucking idiots!”

  My muscles tense as I look through the gym trying to see if any of Enzo Andretti’s men are inside, but I can’t see anyone. Thank fuck. I’m going to kill these two fuckers when I get my hands on them.

  I notice Lift hand the baggie to a guy at the weight section, he then gives Lift some cash while Trax stands by as a lookout. I can’t believe they’re dealing roids in an Andretti-owned gym. This war we have with the Andrettis is only going to escalate because of their stupidity.

  “Hey fuckers,” a loud booming voice calls out.

  Seven men, dressed in the typical Andretti get-up of a fuck-ugly blue tracksuit and hideous gold chains around their necks, step toward my brothers. The outfit is the same one they have worn since the rise and fall of Stefano Andretti decades ago. It’s like they’re stuck in the eighties and can’t move forward. Every time I see them wearing those gym uniforms, it makes me chuckle, but the fuckers are moving quickly toward Trax and Lift

  Shit.

  Lift pulls a backpack over his shoulder as Trax and Lift both take off through the gym toward the exit where I’m currently standing. While watching what feels like a slow-motion movie, the seven Andretti men remove guns from their waistbands.

  Trax and Lift bolt for the door, laughing, but when they notice me, their faces drop. They both stop for a second, fear crossing their faces knowing they’ve been caught by not only the Andrettis but also their President. Without hesitation, the Andretti men barrel toward us.

  With a heavy sigh, I grit my teeth and glare at the two imbecilic twats, but we don’t have time to discuss this shit. Right now—we have to run.

  “Disperse,” I yell, and Lift and Trax both nod as we all take off.

  We know for a fact the Andrettis won’t fire on us in public—fucking chicken shits—so running is the best option, rather than attempting to get back to our bikes. If we hitch a ride anyway, they’ll follow, and as soon as we’re out of the public eye, the gunfight will begin, and we are heavily outnumbered.

  The best thing to do right now?

  Run.

  So we do—in the motherfucking outskirts of The Heart of Italy and in Andretti territory—and as we bolt down the street, with seven furious Italian Mafioso’s on our tails, Trax starts laughing.

  “What’s your idea now that we’ve run, brother?” Trax calls out as we bolt past a temporary pop-up grocery store.

  Grabbing hold of the wooden container, I yank one down as I pass. Apples and oranges fly through the air and land in the street as a little Greek man yells obscenities at me in his native tongue.

  The Andretti men get caught up in the fruit salad as we ro
und the corner.

  I have to think fast.

  We need a way out of this.

  If they catch us, we’re going to be fucking toast.

  Fuck! They know better than to do this shit. I’m the President of the Defiance MC, and now I’m fleeing, on foot, with my damned VP and Secretary. Dealing on Andretti turf, while it might have been funny at the time for them, will always have ramifications.

  Right now, though, I need to find an out.

  Looking up, I observe a frozen yogurt store, and a thought crosses my mind. As we approach, I grab Trax and yank him toward the door of the store watching as Lift follows. A damn bell rings announcing our fucking arrival to the world as we rush inside.

  Are you fucking with me? It smells like a dairy in here.

  I spot three employees but don’t have time to think about what to say to them as we rush for the counter, all jumping—Trax first, then me, followed by Lift—over the divider. I push a blonde beauty out of the way in my rush.

  “Hey,” I hear her yell out as we round the corner and head out to a rear room where there’s no damn back door. Fuck my life! There’s no way out of here.

  As I calm my breathing slightly, I also realize there’s no way the Andrettis will think three fucking bikers will run into a froyo bar. This is the perfect place to lay low until the Andrettis fuck the hell off. Taking a breath, I glance to Trax as he smiles wide at Lift, and I shake my head at him gritting my teeth, clench my fist and punch it right in his stomach. He lets out a big puff of air as he hunches over holding onto his stomach, coughing.

  “You. Mother. Fucking. Idiots! Dealing roids in Andretti territory? What the ever-loving fuck were you thinking?” I keep my voice low and quiet, so the people out the front of the store don’t hear. Trax and Lift look at me sheepishly, but as they do, three heads pop around the corner all looking a little pensive, including the blonde bombshell I ran into on the way in. Her little button nose is turned up as she assesses us. Her small stature showing her fit, but slightly curvy body. The purse in her full lips makes her cheekbones pop in a way that’s so fucking sexy I’m having trouble thinking straight. But it’s her eyes, the hard glare in those big, beautiful, emerald green doe eyes that has me slightly stunned. Though, right now, that bombshell is defensively holding a giant can of whipped-fucking-cream in her hand. I have to admit the sight both makes me want to laugh hysterically as it equally makes me want to rip her fucking clothes off, spray it all over her and fuck her right here on the floor.