Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series
Read Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series Online
Authors: Natasha Thomas
Call Me…Vengeance
A Vengeance MC Novel; By – Natasha Thomas
Copyright © 2016 by Natasha Thomas
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 publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
eBook Published and any subsequent printing done and developed in Australia
First Released, January 3
rd
, 2016
Natasha Thomas
Sydney, Australia
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eBook copyright ©2016
Natasha Thomas
All rights reserved
By purchasing this eBook, it allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading, on your computer, tablet, or another device capable of viewing eBooks. After purchasing, you do not have the rights to; resell, print, distribute, or transfer this book, in part, or whole to any other person via any method currently known, or yet to be conceived, or developed in the future. It may also, not be uploaded, in part or whole, to any file sharing programs, websites, or social media outlets. Being resold, given, or transferred to any other person is in direct violation of the Australian, and U.S. Copyright Laws.
This book is a work of fiction and is written to be taken as such.
Characters, names, road names, motorcycle clubs, places, businesses, towns, events, and incidents are a product of the author’s own thoughts, and imagination. As such, any resemblance to persons living, or dead, actual events, or incidents, the past, present, or future, is purely coincidental and is not in any way intended to offend, upset, or disturb person/s reading its content.
This book is intended for mature audiences aged 18 and over. It contains content that may be viewed as disturbing for some readers, graphic sexual scenes and references, coarse language, and violence.
There are always so many important people to thank in this section, so bear with me.
A lot of people take part in the process of a book making it from the pages of a word document on a computer to reaching the hands of readers, and most of the time they go unmentioned.
There are families; husbands, wives, children, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews who lend their unwavering support. Friends who put up with us even when our time is scarce and we can’t be as present as we would like to be.
BETA readers like mine; Jamie, Linda, and Laura, who tirelessly consume content to make sure my readers receive the best possible story they can. Editors, proofreaders, and ARC readers who help to mold our stories into works of art.
Then you have the people who harness the magic of the project; the designers. Mine, Monica Langley Holloway, has been with me through thick and thin; from the beginning. She, without fail is able to bring my characters to life on the covers of my books, and for more reasons than that alone is irreplaceable.
Blogs, Reviewers, promotional pages, Facebook groups, and Indie author forums work industriously around the clock to pimp, promote, market, and support writers reaching a global audience. Their work often goes unmentioned or recognized, so I am taking the time to assure all of you that many of us are supremely grateful for your efforts. We appreciate your dedication and are in awe of your selflessness when it comes to the time you donate in assisting authors to reach their audiences.
There is one last group of people who deserves a great deal of credit, however. Readers. You are who makes it possible for an author to publish more than one book. You are who makes us smile, helps us push through the long, sleepless nights of writing when words blur into lines of gibberish. You are who makes this process a gift and not a chore, and for that, you have my never ending gratitude.
So, to everyone I have mentioned and those I may have missed, thank you. Thank you for your inspiration, support, and kindness. There is no way to express my appreciation for everything you have and continue to do for me. But know this; not a day goes by I don’t consider myself blessed for knowing you.
To everyone who has wondered if they have taken the right path when faced with an impossible choice…
Table of Contents
Other books in the Vengeance MC series
Books in the Patricks’ Brothers Series
“My past has not defined me,
destroyed me, deterred me or defeated me;
it has only strengthened me.”
- Dr. Steve Maraboli
- Emily to Boss
In the early years as a member of Vengeance MC, my life had been a series of swings and roundabouts. Problems to solve, brothers to deal with, and businesses to manage. I loved it, thrived on it even. I craved it. But what I’d once seen as challenging and exciting, had become mundane and boring as the years dragged on. Excruciatingly fucking boring, in fact. The sum total of my days, for the last however long, I don’t know because I stopped counting when we hit the years not months, amounted to one thing; my life has become the epitome of Groundhog Day.
Over and over again, rinse and repeat. My days are filled with tedious tasks, and demanding jobs that are aging me before my time. When life had been simpler, my days had been filled with a love of the road, drinking until I was shitfaced with my brothers, and an endless supply of wet, willing pussy to entertain me whenever I felt like getting off. But like all good things, that faded and life became infinitely more complicated.
Memories of my life consist of weeks, months, and now years of endless monotony. By the way, if you haven’t experienced it I’ll let you know now, monotony fucking blows. What I wouldn’t give for something, anything, to break through the mind-numbing, borderline comatose state I exist in. I don’t see it happening, though. I’m just not that fucking lucky. Worse still, it’s a bitter pill to swallow to think the best years of my life are already behind me, especially when I haven’t even hit middle age yet. I mean, I’m close, but I’m not there yet.
Being the President of, Vengeance MC isn’t all it’s cracked up to be some days. Not that I’m complaining, just stating a fact. People theorized about the life I lead. They romanticize it. But what they perceive it to be, and what it is are two entirely different things. Opposite ends of the spectrum, in fact.
The fact is, my job entails keeping my boys in line, fixing their fuck ups, and doing the jobs no one else wants to. Not to mention dealing with the numerous daily issues which can occur in any of the handful of legit club businesses. Basically, it sucks ass to be me.
But if there’s one thing I would never turn my back on, it’s my club. Regardless of the drama, my pain in the ass brothers, the countless headaches, and my desperate desire to rekindle the rush the life had once given me, I made a promise when I accepted my patch. No matter what happens, or how tired of the bullshit I am, I’m not a man who breaks a promise. It might just kill me, but I won’t let my brothers down. I can’t. I’m not built like that.
I haven’t always thought this way. But when I turned thirty-five, the bigger picture became more important than the immediate future, and instant gratification. With age and wisdom, my ideas, my beliefs, my plans for the club ran in various different directions. I was more open-minded, more likely to listen and accept the knowledge of others. Not all of the time, but when the situation warranted it. Gone was the man who in his younger years defined the word single-minded. I’d had a severe case of tunnel vision back then. And forget taking advice from anyone else; I knew it all. Or I had believed I did. I knew better now, and I’d learned that the hard way.
When I was growing up, I thought it would be badass to be the leader of a vast group of men that were all about living free, making money, riding bikes, and easy pussy. But like everything else, real life stepped in and kicked that fantasy in the ass. My simple childhood dreams became nothing but memories. The sad truth about my life was; I just felt old. Old and fucking tired. I didn’t want to be, I wanted to see the world through the eyes of that little boy again, but with the wisdom of the man I am now.
However, none of that shit is realistic. Dreams are just that; dreams. Where I live now, in the real world, with responsibilities and people who depend on me is what’s important. I don’t have time to look back at the times I’ve fucked up because there are far too many of them. There are so many things I would go back and change if I could. Starting with, never putting up with half the shit my father put me and my MC through. That’s the big one. The holy grail of fuck ups. I should never have let that old bastard lead us down the path he did, but I can’t change that now. Now, all I can do is move forward. And I intend to do that pulling my MC with me, kicking and screaming if I have to.