Loose Ends Read online

  Loose Ends

  Copyright © 2018 by Kristen Ashley

  Cover Art by:

  PixelMischief

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Contents

  LOOSE ENDS

  Introduction

  No Clue

  The Stars Aligned

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  The Favor

  More Than Everything

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  “Tell Me What You Want”

  Rock Chick Renewal

  Dedication

  Mr. and Mr.

  Enjoy an Excerpt from Three Wishes

  About the Author

  Books by Kristen Ashley

  Connect with Kristen Ashley

  I ALWAYS THOUGHT I couldn’t do short.

  That is, write short books. Never mind short stories.

  Forget about it.

  Then along came 1,001 Dark Nights.

  Liz Berry and MJ Rose asked me to be a part of their imprint and write a novella in one of my current series for their awesome project.

  A writer needs challenges, so I took it (with, I will admit, some trepidation as I was diving into two characters who were beloved by me who I thought would never have their story told, Daisy and Marcus of the Rock Chicks—a story that would become 1,001 Dark Nights Rock Chick Reawakening).

  I not only fell in love with the process, an entire new avenue opened not only for me as a writer, but more importantly for my characters.

  That’s right.

  I didn’t have to say goodbye.

  And that means my readers don’t have to either.

  I can go back to my babies, just for a spell, spend some time, see how they’re doing, how they’re raising their families, how their happily ever after stays happy.

  But there was a big bonus for me.

  Huge.

  Colossal.

  Most romance novels are anywhere in the range of 60,000 to 110,000 words.

  Not mine.

  My novels tend to be anywhere upwards of 160,000 words. In my books, I get into the meat of a variety of matters.

  And I was struggling with some dangling characters from concluded books and series who needed their HEA. However, if I attempted to write a full-blown book, there would be a lot of filler, or forced conflict I wasn’t getting from my characters.

  I simply can’t write like that.

  So these beloved characters were left hanging.

  My “loose ends.”

  Not anymore.

  With this new concept of a personal anthology, I was able to go back to The ’Burg. I got to visit Glacier Lily Cottages.

  And after the personal loss of my dear friend Rick Chew, who Tod of the Rock Chick series was based on, I had the bittersweet experience of spending some time with him again as my Tod with his Stevie.

  But I also was able to tell Hap and Luci’s story (from Heaven and Hell) as it was meant to be told.

  Not to mention I could immediately deal with the demons plaguing Diesel from the ménage I introduced in The Greatest Risk, rather than leaving him stuck in an emotional pit of darkness. Which meant I got to give goodness not only to him, but to his Maddox and Molly.

  Without delay.

  If this concept works . . . that is, if you—my reader—enjoys it, I’ll do these as often as I can because I adored being back with Joe, Vi, Deacon and his Cassidy, Tod and Stevie (and the crew), Kia and Sam, Sixx and Stellan, and of course Hap, Luci, Diesel, Maddox and Molly.

  The possibilities are endless. The happy endings of my characters never really have to end, and my Loose Ends can get tied up all nice and tidy.

  In other words, I hope you enjoy.

  I really, really do.

  Because these stories took me other places as well . . . and new ideas were born. And I want to unleash them (does anyone feel Henry from The Will needs to find love? I do!).

  So read on.

  And as always . . .

  Rock on!

  One final note, if you haven’t taken the dive into my series, The Honey, because erotica just isn’t your gig, I’ll caution you about reading More Than Everything in this anthology. It is a very erotic M/M/F ménage. I think it’s beautiful and the message of love and acceptance is crucial.

  But the last thing I wish to do is shock any of my readers. I hope you try it, but I understand everything is not for everybody.

  And as Diesel, Maddox and Molly would all agree, you do you.

  All my love,

  ~Kristen Ashley

  A short story from The ’Burg Series

  featuring Joe and Vi of At Peace

  JOE CALLAHAN WALKED through the side door of the house, which brought him into his family’s kitchen.

  And total pandemonium.

  He tossed his keys on the counter and moved from the kitchen to the living room where he saw, rolling around on the floor, a tangle of arms, legs, heads, hair and bodies.

  There were grunts of effort.

  There was also shouting.

  “Mom’s totally mad and says she washes her hands of the both of them.”

  These words came from Cal’s left.

  He turned that way and saw his girl, Angie, lounging on the couch in front of their TV, which had onscreen the show where women tried on wedding dresses.

  No wonder his boys were fighting.

  Better to do that than watch that fucking show.

  She was his oldest blood child.

  She was twirling her hair.

  She was also the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Outside her mother.

  And her older sisters.

  And her two brothers, who were right then wrestling on the floor.

  He turned his attention to that.

  “Yo!” he bellowed.

  Instantly, the wrestling stopped, both his sons disconnected, scooted from each other and took their feet.

  Sam, his oldest boy and the one who learned fast-talking somewhere along the line, and learned it well, opened his mouth to speak.

  Cal got there before him.

  “I don’t care.”

  “But . . . Dad!” Ben yelled.

  Cal turned his eyes to his youngest.

  If it was up to him, they’d have had two, maybe three more.

  Vi drew the line at Ben.

  Well, not really. They got pregnant one more time, purely by accident since she’d drawn the line at Ben, they just fucked a lot (still, thankfully) and apparently, birth control pills really were not a hundred percent.

  She’d lo
st it in month two.

  She’d been devastated because she thought he would be devastated.

  He took it as a sign from God to stop knocking up his wife and God knew what He was doing, so Cal was all good.

  When she found out he was all good, Violet was all good (mostly).

  “What’d I say about fighting?” Cal asked his boys.

  “But he—” Sam began.

  “No,” Cal cut in. “What. Did. I. Say. About. Fighting?”

  Sam glared at Ben. Ben looked to his feet.

  “Sorry? Did I lose my hearing?” Cal prompted when neither said a word.

  “Don’t do it,” they muttered in unison.

  “And what did I come home to?” Cal pushed.

  “Us fightin’,” Ben mumbled.

  “A fight,” Sam bit out at the same time.

  “How happy do you think I am right now?” Cal asked.

  “Not very,” Ben said.

  “How happy is your mother right now?” Cal went on.

  Both boys moved away from their father, Sam leaning back, Ben actually taking a step back.

  They knew what this line of questioning bought them.

  He didn’t let up.

  “You disrespect me by doing something I told you not to do, I can swallow that. Boys push shit. I was you once. I get that. Your mother hates you fightin’. So you also disrespect your mother when you fight. Now, when’s it okay to disrespect your mother?”

  “Never,” both mumbled to their feet.

  “Look at me and say that again,” he growled and got his sons’ eyes.

  “Never,” they pushed out, louder, stronger.

  They loved their mom.

  They felt like assholes.

  Good.

  “Clean rooms. Homework done. Trash out,” he ordered. “Later I’ll think of other shit you can do to make me less pissed at you. And when I talk your mother into acknowledging you exist again, you’re both apologizing. Am I heard?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” Ben said.

  “You’re heard,” Sam said.

  “Thank God I’m perfect,” Angie called from the couch.

  “Barf,” Sam muttered, but Cal tossed a smile and a wink at his girl because she was teasing.

  But she spoke truth.

  She was sheer perfection.

  After his boys took off, Cal went to his girl to bend and give her a kiss on the top of her head, earning her sunny smile that he could swear to fuck made the earth go around, before he walked through the living room then the den to the master.

  He opened the door and found his wife flat on her back on the bed, calves over the side like she’d turned her back to it and plopped down.

  And yeah.

  He instantly wanted to fuck her.

  He’d never been with a woman as long as he had with Vi. He didn’t think about it, but if he had, he would have figured, naturally, shit would settle and it would be about grocery runs and oil changes and occasional bickering with some fights thrown in and a lot of TV watching.

  It was about that. With a lot of bickering and some huge-ass, knock-down, drag-out fights, and not the ones his boys had.

  It was also about a lot of laughter, quiet golden moments, silken moments of utter pride, and a shit ton of sex.

  In other words, he was living the life.

  He kinda knew he’d get that the minute he laid eyes on her.

  He fought it, but he still knew.

  Thank God he quit fighting.

  “Did they kill each other?” she asked the ceiling.

  “No,” he answered the underside of her chin, making his way to her.

  “Then why did you stop them?”

  He chuckled, put a knee in the bed by her thigh, climbed in and straddled her body on hands and knees, dipping down so they were face to face.

  Christ, she was beautiful.

  “I heard you. You made them stop by shouting, ‘yo’,” she pointed out.

  “They’re nine and eleven, but they’re already fluent in speaking man,” he explained.

  Her face cracked but she didn’t let the laughter loose.

  “I had girls down,” she declared. “Kate and Keira are treasures. Angie came, and she’s aptly named. She’s an angel. I was certain I’d perfected the art of creating exceptional children. And then along came Sam and Ben.”

  “They’re aptly named too. Your brother and my cousin were not choirboys.”

  “We should have named them Michael and Gabriel.”

  “I figure we got better than if we’d named them Diablo and Beelzebub.”

  Another lip quirk from his wife before she observed, “They haven’t hit puberty and they already have too much testosterone.”

  He was not gonna field that one, so he just hummed, “Mm.”

  Vi was Vi. She didn’t let him get away with shit.

  “I blame you,” she declared.

  “Babe, if you think for a second I’m not super fuckin’ happy my boys are all boy, think again.”

  “So you’d have a problem if one of them was gay?” she asked.

  “Are you sayin’ bein’ gay isn’t bein’ a boy? Because as far as I know, a gay guy is still a guy,” he returned. “Back in the day, I seen a lot of shit as a bouncer, and I saw a drag queen lay one motherfucker out. In drag. It was fuckin’ spectacular.”

  That got her.

  She started giggling.

  So he kissed her.

  Best taste in the world, Vi laughing.

  He didn’t want to break the kiss, but a house full of kids who were awake was not conducive to what would happen next if he didn’t, especially when his wife stopped laughing into his mouth and slid her fingers into his hair.

  He lifted his head and looked into eyes that held a little laughter and a little daze from the kiss.

  And again, he wanted to fuck her.

  “Can we put the kids to bed at six o’clock?” she asked.

  He grinned down at her.

  But unfortunately he had to answer, “Probably not.”

  “Gluh.”

  He kept grinning.

  “I suppose it’s time to start thinking about dinner,” she noted.

  “Dinner is me tossin’ chops on the grill and rallying Angie to make a salad,” he replied.

  She frowned up at him and asked, “You’ve met your boys, yes?”

  He nodded his head and kept smiling at her.

  She continued, “How do you think chops and salad are gonna go over with them?”

  “I’ll grill ’em two chops each. Maybe three.”

  Her eyes slid away as she muttered, “A dinner of meat. That might work.”

  One could say, their boys were big eaters.

  “I’ll fire up the grill,” he muttered but stopped making his move to exit the bed when her fingers fisted in his hair.

  He caught her gaze and was about to do something about her hand and the look in her eye when Angie shouted, “Mom! Dad! Mr. Ryker is here!”

  “Oh shit,” Vi whispered.

  “Fuck,” Cal bit off.

  They had reason for their curses.

  Ryker showing without warning could be anything. He’d pissed off an entire biker gang and needed a safe house (or more likely, fire power since Ryker was not a man to hide). He was in a fight with his woman and wanted a man at his side while he slammed bourbon and bitched. Or he could have a hankering to make a chocolate pie and needed a recipe.

  The last was not probable, but with Ryker, anything was possible.

  “Coming!” Vi yelled as she scooted out from under him.

  He came up with her and they walked out of their room together. It was only once they moved through the door that he caught her with an arm around her shoulders, she slid hers along his waist, and they walked side by side into the living room.

  There, Ryker had Angie in a headlock that held her to his massive chest. This was a hold that might send a father who didn’t know him to finding his gun. But since Cal knew him, he just shook
his head and took in his girl, who was grinning like a fool.

  Neither he or Vi got a word out before both boys came gunning in, shouting, “Mr. Ryker!”

  Angie got strung up so Ryker could kiss the crown of her head before he let her go, set her aside and went into battle stance, in a squat, hands up, like he was about to do some MMA shit to Cal’s boys in the living room.

  They tackled him as one, and within seconds Ben was held upside down to Ryker’s side and Sam was in a different kind of headlock, both of them laughing and shouting, “Let go!” and, “No fair!”

  “Yo,” Ryker called to Cal and Vi like he didn’t have hold on two pre-pubescent boys.

  “Hey, Ryker,” Vi called back.

  Cal just lifted his chin.

  Ryker shook his sons and they kept laughing and shouting.

  It was not a surprise the guy could lock them down so easy. He was a tall, built, bald-headed, ugly-as-fuck monster who looked like he drank blood for breakfast.

  Vi and Cal stopped a few feet away and that was when Cal spoke.

  “You wanna let my son go before so much blood rushes to his head, he passes out when you put him down?”

  Ryker shot Cal a nasty grin that was his normal grin, just nasty on his mug naturally, released Sam and put Ben on his feet.

  “We’re gonna get you next time,” Ben warned.

  “Boy, I’ll be in a wheelchair before you get me,” Ryker scoffed.

  “Huh!” Ben shouted through a smile.

  “Rooms. Trash. Homework,” Cal reminded them. “And Angie, baby, throw together a salad, will you? I’m cookin’ chops.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” Angie agreed.

  “Chops, killer! And tots?” Sam asked.

  “You need more plant-based foods in your system,” Vi said to their son.

  He grinned at his mom. “Potatoes are plants.”

  “You need more plant-based foods that aren’t immersed in boiling fat before they’re consumed,” she amended.

  Sam kept grinning then got serious. “Me and Ben are jerks.”

  That was his oldest boy. Right in front of Ryker.

  He could be a pain in the ass.

  But he was a straight up good kid who had guts and integrity and loved his mom.

  “No you aren’t,” Vi replied quietly. “You’re a boy. But boys become men and we gotta cut out the jerk tendencies before they take root.”