Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2017 LeAnn Ashers

  All rights reserved

  Published by LeAnn Ashers

  Designed by: RBA Designs

  Editor: Virginia Tesi Carey

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Formatting by: Champagne Formats

  Techy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  This is for my Alisha. <3

  I’m currently searching a dating site for men who are a part of a trafficking ring. I have been tracing some of the gang members to this site and noticed that some of the girls on here have gone missing.

  I’m searching through a list of images of women when she catches my eye.

  I click on her profile.

  She’s fucking beautiful. Green eyes, freckles dotting her small nose, large, full lips, high cheekbones, and long, dark-brown hair that reaches her butt and curls at the end.

  Why is she on here? She looks around twenty or twenty-one and prime for the taking by the gang. She would be sold to be a wife in a foreign country or pimped out.

  After grabbing my other laptop, I boot it up and log into my account. I hack into her account to make sure she is still fucking alive or hasn’t been taken yet.

  My name is Techy, and I can hack anything. I am one of the original members of the Devils Souls MC. We are planning to eradicate the gang members who attempted to kidnap an ole lady of the club. They are getting braver and braver with their attacks, and I want to take them down.

  I am tracking down all the women who were taken and getting a list of all the members in the surrounding three counties.

  After clicking the message button, I shoot her a quick message with my real image. Much to my surprise, I get a response instantly.

  My phone starts ringing with a FaceTime call. I run across the room to grab it before my father can hear it. I just heard him outside my door a minute earlier, so I don’t think he has left yet. My heart is pounding out of my chest at the thought of what he would do if he caught a man calling me—or if he knew I even had a phone.

  I click the green button and climb into bed, facing the door so I can hide the phone before my father can see it should he come in. I stole the Wi-Fi password from the bottom of the router, and my father doesn’t know I use it.

  He has no clue my friend gave me her iPhone that she doesn’t use anymore. He would kill me if he knew.

  “Baby, what’s the matter?” Jordan asks.

  I stare at the ceiling. I forgot that I’d answered the call. I was still looking at the door, making sure my dad isn’t around.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I smile into the phone.

  Jordan is sitting at a desk, surrounded by three huge computers. “You sure? You looked scared for a second there,” he asks again, his eyes narrowed at me. He knows I’m not telling the truth.

  I can’t tell him what my life really is.

  I met Jordan when I made a dating site profile because I was lonely and needed someone to talk to. My friend had left for college and left me in this hole-in-the-wall community outside Raleigh, Texas.

  I am living in a trailer with my mom and my dad. I don’t want to be here. I am literally stuck here. I have no car and no way to get one because the closest jobs are quite a distance away. The little community I am living in is for people who want to live out their days on drugs and running from the cops. It’s extremely dangerous. I am twenty-one years old and I quit going to school when I was fifteen because.

  My mom and my dad are always on drugs, and my dad is fucked up in the head. He’s verbally and mentally abusive. The house I’m living in is rat infested and run down, and holes litter the floor. They’re so large and deep that I can stick my hand in them and touch the ground.

  Jordan is a reprieve from the life I am living. The only havens I have are my room and Jordan. With him, I can pretend that my life isn’t complete shit.

  “Baby?” he asks again.

  I drifted off again. I look at the phone and see his concern. In the past two months, we became close, and he keeps offering to take me out, but I keep refusing. I don’t want him to see the life I’ve been living.

  There are so many things I like about Jordan. He’s so funny. He can make the worst day better with his cheesy jokes. He’s gorgeous, with his bad-boy look and his tattoos. He’s protective of me. Once, I had a black eye, and when he asked how I’d gotten it, I said I ran into the corner of the cabinet. He freaked out. He was beyond pissed. Nobody has ever worried about me like that before.

  The thing is I never ran into a cabinet. My dad punched me in the face because I’d knocked his drink over. I constantly have to walk on eggshells because anything can set him off.

  “Why is this door locked?” my dad yells outside my door.

  My eyes widen in fear, and I look at Jordan. He’s furious.

  “Jordan, I will call you back.” I click end and hide my phone in the hole inside my wall. I slide the picture back on top of it.

  I slowly walk over to my door, my hands sweating. When I unlock the door, my stomach hits the floor. My body is jittery from the nerves.

  My bedroom door flies open and slams against the wall.

  I take a step back, away from him. I push a piece of my hair behind my ear and stare at my father.

  He is six feet tall and skin and bones. His face is sunken in, and his hair is stringy. Drugs and a poor diet will do that to you.

  “I will not ask again, bitch,” he says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  I stare at him with sadness. I’ve never had a father who cared about me. It’s sad that I’ve become used to this.

  “I was changing,” I lie to him and soften my face to look innocent.

  He sneers at me and looks around my room. “Bull-fucking-shit. What were you doing?”

  The picture that covers the hidey hole in the wall falls, My phone slides out of the hole and lands on the bed.

  “What the fuck is this, bitch?” he roars in my face and stomps past me.

  When he picks my phone up, it rings. Jordan’s picture pops up as he FaceTimes me.

  “Who the fuck is this?” He shows the screen to me.

  I close my eyes. Yeah, I’m doomed.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he screams in my face, spit flying out of his mouth and hitting me.

  “Nobody,” I say in a soft, meek voice. I’m scared. I’m beyond scared at the thought
of the beating looming in front of me.

  “Well, we will see, won’t we?” My father chuckles evilly as he thrusts the phone into my hand. “Answer it.”

  I shake my head. I can’t let Jordan see me like this.

  My father’s face darkens, and I gulp. He punches me in the nose, and I flinch in pain. Blood drips from my nose and down my face.

  “ANSWER IT,” he roars again, and tears well in my eyes.

  I tap the green circle, and Jordan’s face pops onto my screen. I mouth, “I am sorry,” to him. A million different emotions come over his face at the sight of me, and I feel ashamed.

  “Well, I see why you were hiding the phone, bitch.” My father clucks his tongue and fists my hair.

  “Take your fucking hands off her or the whole fucking Devils Souls MC will take out your ass,” Jordan threatens my dad in a voice I haven’t ever heard him use before. Then, to me, he mouths, “I am coming for you.”

  My dad throws the phone, and it shatters into a million pieces.

  “You just signed my death warrant, bitch!” my dad screams in a high-pitched voice. He throws his hand back and connects with my face. Then he does it again and again.

  I fall to the floor, and he kicks me in the stomach. I curl into a ball as he steps on my hands and kicks me anywhere he can that will cause harm.

  I black out and hold on to the hope that Jordan is coming for me. I can’t live this life anymore.

  “FUCKK!” I yell at the top of my lungs at the sight of Alisha—blood running down her face and a man fisting her hair hard.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She’s lost, sad, and utterly alone.

  Not anymore.

  I run up the stairs of the basement where my office is and into the clubhouse. I spot Butch, Vin, and Trey sitting at the bar, shooting the shit. They see my expression and stand up.

  “What’s up, Techy?” Vin asks.

  “I met this fucking girl online on a dating site when I was tracking down the fucking gang members. I couldn’t get her fucking out of my mind. I messaged her two months ago, and we have been video chatting since. Someone was banging on her door today when we were chatting, and then she disconnected it. I called back a minute later, and when she picked up, blood was pouring down her face and a man’s hand was in her hair,” I explain quickly, not even caring to be embarrassed that I met her online.

  “Fuck, man,” Butch says. He walks toward the door, ready to ride with me.

  “She yours?” Trey asks.

  I nod. He walks outside, and Vin follows suit. Butch follows behind them, and I run out, my gun in my holster. I climb onto my Harley and then floor it out of the parking lot.

  Only thing between me and Alisha is the open highway.

  No fucking woman should be hurt like that, especially her.

  He is going to fucking pay with his life.

  I groan as I reach for the blanket hanging off my bed. I drag it across the floor and under my head. I shiver and wince at the pain in my stomach, the tears dragging down my face feeling like scalding-hot water.

  He’s never beaten me this badly before. I knew that it would be bad, but this? This is something else altogether. My body feels like one huge bruise. I won’t be able to get up, so I am going to sleep here.

  My mom is in the house. I saw her look into the bedroom as he was kicking me, but she turned around and walked away. She blocks it out, ignores it. She’s seen this every single day of her life and does nothing to stop it. He hits her too, but not like he does me.

  I am all alone on my floor, crying, in pain, and miserable, and I wish my life would end. I don’t want to be in a world like this. I have a small bit of hope, and that is Jordan. He gave me something to look forward to—and the hope that the rest of the world isn’t as bad as my life is.

  There are good people in this world. There has to be. I just haven’t met anyone good except for him and my best friend.

  I stay on the hard floor for thirty minutes, and then I hear motorcycles. My heart stops in disbelief. Has he come for me? He said he would. I sob into my blanket. I could be free. The motorcycles get closer and closer until they are parked outside my house. The broken-down trailer sounds like it’s shaking from the power of the motorcycles.

  Then the trailer is silent. The TV is turned off, and I only hear my breathing. Footsteps sound on our ratty porch, and a couple of men start talking. I strain to hear what they are saying. Someone else speaks, and I know that voice.

  Jordan.

  He came for me.

  I plant my hand on the floor and roll myself onto my stomach. I lift myself with all my might until I am on my knees. I pant loudly in pain; it’s excruciating. I grab the edge of my bed and push myself up the rest of the wall, my body shaking from the exertion.

  Bent in half, clutching at my stomach, I walk to my bedroom door and unlock the lock. I pull it open, my body screaming at me.

  I hear a loud noise, and my mom screams. They must have kicked the door in. I hold on to the wall with one hand and my stomach with the other. I clench my jaw at the pain while closing my eyes to hold back the tears.

  “Alisha!” Jordan calls.

  I spur forward. When I enter the kitchen, Jordan is standing there with three other huge men. Jordan is just as big. My knees start to give out, and I grab the corner of the wall and hold myself up.

  “Where is she?” Jordan roars at my dad.

  My dad starts apologizing, but Jordan doesn’t give a shit. He pinches the bridge of his nose, walks over to my dad, and punches him right in the face. My dad falls back onto the floor, out cold. I stare in disbelief at how Jordan can knock someone out in one punch.

  I just want to be held right now, and I want that from Jordan.

  “Jordan,” I say softly

  His gaze connects with mine, and I see fury in them. I feel ashamed. Jordan runs over to me. He stops when he is a hair’s width away from me. He touches my face, and I wince at the smallest of touches. I let the wall go and wrap my arms around his waist.

  I let out a deep breath as I feel his warmth and the strongness of his chest. Closing my eyes, I sink farther against his body, letting him hold me. I don’t care about the pain. All I know is I feel like I belong somewhere for the first time in my life and everything will be okay.

  “Baby, I am so fucking sorry,” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “You didn’t know Jordan,” I whisper back.

  “I am taking you away from here. You will never see this fucking place again,” he says vehemently.

  “Let’s go,” I whisper to him as I stare into his eyes.

  “Nothing will harm you again,” he tells me.

  I close my eyes at the feelings I am experiencing. I feel safe. “Okay,” is all I can manage to get out before I black out from exhaustion, the pain, and everything that has happened today. I feel him catch me, and then there’s darkness.

  I catch Alisha as she passes out and pick her up bridal-style. When I turn around, my brothers look at the girl in my arms. It’s fucking heartbreaking how messed up she looks. She is five foot nothing and maybe one hundred and twenty pounds. Even through the cuts and bruises, I can see how beautiful she is.

  “Man, she’s fucked up,” Vin says.

  I set her on the couch. I turn to her father, who is now waking up from when I knocked him out. I kick him in the side, and he startles awake.

  The moment I got a good fucking look at the man sitting in this living room, I knew that these were her parents. She has her dad’s fucking eyes and hair color, but her stature is just like her mother’s. Her mother is so strung out and just fucking staring into space with drool running down her face.

  I pull my gun out of my pocket and twist the silencer on. “Vin, cover Alisha’s ears.”

  Her dad wakes up and stares at me in disbelief as I click the silencer into place. He starts shaking his head. I bend down until I am eye level with him.

  “Please,” he whispers, his putrid breath hitting me in the f
ace.

  “Death is too easy for you,” I tell her father, “but I don’t have time to torture you and for you to beg me to kill you. Enjoy hell.” I stand up. I grab a pillow and place it against his head and the gun so the blood doesn’t splatter on me.

  He cries, begs, and pleads. I click the safety off and pull the trigger. As he slumps against the floor, I stare at her mother. She stares into space still. Fucking pathetic.

  I hand my gun to Butch, the sergeant-at-arms. He nods and stuffs it into his pocket. He will get rid of it for me and make sure it will never be found.

  I walk over to Alisha and pick her up off the floor.

  I carry her from that fucking hell. No looking back. I climb on my bike, and Trey takes her from my arms, turning her around until she is front-to-front with me. He lifts her legs and sets them on top of mine. I tuck my leather jacket around her and wrap my arm around her, holding her to my chest. Fuck, she’s fucking tiny.

  “Call Myra and have her meet me at my house.”

  Trey nods and picks up his phone. I look at the girl in my arms, who is out cold, and my heart clenches. I start my motorcycle, tighten my grip on her, and get out of this fucking place.

  I wake up in a soft bed. Hands are touching my body, and my eyes fly open. I connect my gaze with a pair of soft-brown eyes. I take in the woman sitting in front of me. She is wearing a white doctor’s shirt, so I am assuming she is here to check me out. I relax into the bed and look around the room.

  This is not a hospital.

  I’m in a bedroom at someone’s house.

  “Where am I?” I ask the woman, my throat dry.

  She hands me some water, and I greedily drink it up.

  “Techy rescued you and took you to his home. I am here to check you out,” she explains.

  But I am confused. Techy? It clicks—she means Jordan.

  “Is she okay, Myra?” Jordan asks as he enters the room. Then he stops dead in his tracks once he sees I am awake. He walks over to the bed and stops right at the head of it.