Psycho a dark obsessive.., p.1
Psycho: A Dark, Obsessive Romance (King's Men MC Book 5), page 1
PSYCHO
KING’S MEN MC
BOOK FIVE
V.T. DO
Copyright © 2023 by V.T. Do
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Trigger Warning
Prologue
1. Lainey
2. Micah
3. Lainey
4. Micah
5. Lainey
6. Micah
7. Lainey
8. Micah
9. Lainey
10. Lainey
11. Lainey
12. Micah
13. Micah
14. Lainey
15. Micah
16. Lainey
17. Micah
18. Micah
19. Lainey
20. Micah
21. Lainey
22. Micah
23. Lainey
24. Micah
25. Lainey
26. Lainey
27. Micah
28. Lainey
29. Lainey
30. Lainey
31. Lainey
32. Micah
33. Lainey
34. Micah
Epilogue
TRIGGER WARNING
This is a dark romance, and some readers may find it triggering.
Reader discretion is advised.
Trigger Warning includes:
Dub-con/Non-con
Unprotected sex
Captive romance
Blood play
Branding
Violence
PROLOGUE
MICAH
Three Years Earlier
Blood dripped from my fingertips to the concrete ground beneath me.
Red stained the walls. A pile of useless human flesh in the corners. All pieces of shit who had messed with what was mine.
I stared into the art I’d made with my own bare hands, unblinking… numb.
The numbness always came with killing.
I didn’t know if this was a good thing or not; to be so apathetic toward something as vicious, as dark, as taking a human life… or, in this case, lives.
I couldn’t bring myself to care either way.
The numbness was my friend.
I was good at what I did because of this numbness. I was good because of the ice that surrounded my heart.
Impenetrable, save for one.
It had always been my baby brother and me.
And then the fuckhead went and found a toy to be obsessed with.
I would have been okay if he wanted a toy to play with for a while, but this toy was the judge’s daughter. The same judge that sentenced him to a twenty-year sentence. Luckily, Dominic, our club president, got him out using a false confession of a brother who had betrayed the club.
Luckily, Dominic got him out early enough, or I would have broken inside and gotten him out myself.
Roman was lucky and stupid now that he decided he wanted to keep her.
He now had the girl locked away in his cabin at Big Bear Lake.
My fists clenched.
How the fuck would he get out of this without going back to prison? Or worse, dead?
One word from the girl, and he would be sent back to prison.
And the world would suffer if they took away the one person who made me feel human.
If he got taken away from me, I would burn down the fucking world, starting with Sacramento.
There would be no man, woman, or child saved from my wrath.
But that was another problem for another day.
As long as Roman stayed breathing, I would keep holding onto the miniscule amount of whatever it was that made me less of this… unfeeling thing, and more of a man who actually fucking loved someone.
And that was all there was to it.
But these dead fuckers here… the ones I had piled in a corner as their blood spilled from their bodies and flowed on the floor toward my boots… I lifted my foot and shifted away.
The last thing I needed was to leave any evidence behind.
Even if I knew the investigation into this murder wouldn’t be thoroughly looked into.
Not with who these men were.
Highest ranked members of the Devil Sinners.
On the top of the pile was the leader of the Devil Sinners, Mitchell “Mace” Snyder.
The club was forced to leave Sacramento when the King’s Men came in and dominated everything.
They had been migrating to Texas when three of their members had the unfortunate luck of running into Roman.
My fists clenched tighter as I remembered the fucking bruises on Roman’s face and arms. And those were the ones I could see. It wasn’t like the stubborn asshole would just lie still for me to check him over.
Nah, he would probably punch me in the face.
I shook my head.
Things were a hell of a lot easier when we were little, and he deferred to me.
Of course, when we were little, I was playing his protector, caregiver, and brother.
Now, he was thirty-two, and he got it into his head that he needed to be his own man. Kidnapping the judge’s daughter as if shit weren’t gonna rain down on us soon with the Mansen Brotherhood.
Ryleigh Hudson would be his downfall, and if something happened to him, I would fucking kill the girl.
I could feel my heart spiking over the thought, and I forced myself to calm down.
I pulled out my phone and took pictures when I felt more settled.
A risk I was taking, but I knew the cops wouldn’t be able to trace these pictures back to me.
I just needed to send a message.
And this one was fucking clear.
The Devil Sinners MC was no more.
It took a full day’s ride to get back to Sacramento.
I didn’t think I could fucking breathe until I finally entered the King’s Men’s territory.
I wasn’t close to my home. Not yet.
Still had about twenty miles before I reached the warehouse I had constructed to my taste, but, fuck, it was so fucking good to be back in Sacramento.
Roman was still at the cabin with Ryleigh.
I didn’t know when he would come back home with the girl, and I didn’t know what she would do once he brought her back.
But if the girl was smart, she wouldn’t do or say anything.
I pulled my bike up to a gas station and turned off the ignition, taking in the city as the afternoon sun glinted down on it.
Roman and I were born and raised in Los Angeles, though saying we were raised was fucking laughable.
We had a piece of shit for a dad and a doormat for a mom.
Though I loved my mom—or at the very least, loved the memory of the woman who had tried to protect Roman and me, even if her trying wasn’t close to being enough—she wasn’t exactly someone I would have said raised us, or raised us right.
Hell, just look at how both he and I had turned out.
She died—was killed—when I was twelve.
Still so fucking little and so fucking defenseless.
She was a doormat who did nothing but try to keep the peace, even when her husband got angry… even when he got violent.
And finally, after years of giving in to him, of not doing anything, of not taking us away the way she should have, the bastard finally made good on his promise and fucking killed her by a lake in front of Roman and me, when I was twelve and he was ten.
Shit had been rough a while after that; because while she didn’t do much against him, she had been his punching bag for the majority of my life up to that point. That wasn’t to say the bastard never put his hands on me and Roman, when I couldn’t protect him.
But after she died, all of that rage he had held onto inside of him was turned toward us.
I was seventeen when I killed for the very first time.
We could have run away and left the bastard alone, but after all the years of abuse, I was finally bigger than him, stronger than him. And he made sure to fill me up with enough rage to beat the life out of him.
Roman helped.
But I was the one who delivered the final blow to the head.
After that…
We ran.
We ran all the way to Sacramento and never looked back.
I blinked as the memory faded away, and reality penetrated.
I shut off the engine and hopped off my bike.
I looked around at my surroundings as I pumped the gas, taking a deep breath and trying to regain control.
For the longest time, it had been just Roman and me.
Then he decided to move to West Virginia for a few years.
I didn’t blame him for wanting to get away, to find himself as his own man apart from me. But that didn’t mean I fucking liked it.
Roman finally moved back home to Sacramento about seven years ago—back to me.
I wasn’t as alone as I had been, not anymore.
Not with the club brothers—not with Dominic Madden, my club’s president—but hell, a lot of the time, it still felt like it.
The pump clicked to let me know I was done, and I replaced it in the holder before making my way inside the nearly empty
The kid manning the register eyed me warily.
I ignored him.
He didn’t miss the King’s Men’s cut I was sporting. I headed to the back and grabbed a bottle of water when the bell on the door dinged once more, announcing that another person was walking in.
My skin prickled with awareness, and I stayed where I was, looking up at the convex mirror on the corner to see the back of a small girl standing by the register.
“Hey, Lainey. How are things going down at the Basement?” the kid asked the girl.
The Basement was a local boxing arena nearby.
To the public, it was a place people went to train and work out.
But most weekends, it hosted illegal fights on the lower level late at night. The King’s Men received a percentage of the profits made from the bets of those fights. In exchange, we offered protection to Ozzy Reyes, the slimy little fucker who owned the place.
I paid closer attention to the kid and the girl, wondering who this girl was and what her connection to the Basement was.
I hadn’t caught sight of her face, just her back and slim figure.
Dark brown hair interspersed with auburn flowed all the way down to the small of her back.
Long shapely legs came out of a pair of white shorts and mismatched colorful socks peeking out of dark gray sneakers.
She was small.
I had her estimated to be about five-foot-five, a whole foot shorter than my six-foot-five height.
There was something fragile, awkward, and young about her.
And perhaps beautiful. The kid’s eyes brightened with undisguised lust as he took in the girl.
I almost smiled.
The kid was a scrawny little thing, looking like he had barely hit his growth spurts and could probably use a lesson or two on hygiene practices—not that I could fucking talk now, considering I had been on the road for nearly two days, and only stopping to sleep and eat for a few hours at a time in between.
“It is what it is,” she said, her voice slightly pitched, showing her age.
She was probably around the same age as the kid at the cash register.
“I need a carton of cigarettes for my dad,” she said.
The kid nodded and moved to the back. I let an eyebrow raise at that. I doubt she was eighteen, and the kid barely batted an eye at that, which probably said this wasn’t the first time she had made this purchase for her dad… or herself, though I didn’t think that was the case.
I didn’t know why I thought that.
I assumed her dad was Ozzy.
I knew the fucker had a daughter, but I couldn’t remember how old she was, nor did I care, yet I was interested in the interaction between this girl and the kid…
No, just the girl.
And I didn’t fucking know why.
She dropped off a few bucks on the counter.
“Thanks, Jonah,” she said, grabbing the carton and turning, showing me her face for the first time.
I froze in place.
Everything inside me seemed to reach a standstill, and I could only stare at her.
Beautiful wasn’t what I would have used to describe the girl.
More… interesting looking.
And I was fucking interested, for reasons unknown to me.
There was nothing about the girl that should have held me in place, nothing to hold my attention, but it did—she did.
Thick, dark brown hair framed a small face, a pert nose, and interestingly shaped lips I couldn’t exactly describe, along with high cheekbones, making her big green eyes stand out even more against her golden tan skin.
There wasn’t a single imperfection that I could see.
This girl was the perfect depiction of innocence allure that I couldn’t get enough of.
My heart pounded in a fragmented rhythm, loud in my ears. My reaction—it wasn’t lust, or interest, or hell, even obsession.
It was instinct.
The instinct that it could be all those things for me… someday.
Something inside of me recognized that this girl, this interesting-looking girl who seemed to fucking call out to me on some deeper level that I didn’t understand, would someday be mine.
Mine.
She didn’t look at me.
I doubt she even knew I was there, and it took barely a second or two between when she turned and offered the view of her face to when she turned away from me, heading out the door. But it felt much longer.
It felt like everything was playing out in slow motion, and I could do nothing more than stand frozen as I watched her.
The bell dinged when she opened the door and left, leaving a roar in my ears that only I could hear.
Fuck.
I thought back to what the kid had called her.
Lainey.
Two simple syllables of a word that rang out in my ears that should have been meaningless.
It didn’t sound meaningless.
It sounded like….
It sounded like mine.
1
LAINEY
PRESENT DAY
I grabbed two beer bottles from behind the bar and passed one over to Kelsea.
She grabbed it without saying anything to me and turned away, getting back to the rough and wild men in the audience as they watched the fight, enraptured.
The sound of boos and cheers rang out as one fighter took another hit, and I closed my eyes, looking away from the ring.
I hated everything about this place.
I hated being here almost every weekend to help Dad, but I was still living at home and didn’t have a choice.
He wanted me here because I was free labor, and he thought I was the only one he could trust to handle the money.
He didn’t know I had been stealing money from the fights for over three years, since he first started forcing me to come and help him out.
Not enough that he would notice, but enough to give me a nice little nest egg hidden in the cardboard panel of my closet.
I had almost five grand saved up.
And when things turn to shit, it would have to be enough for me to take it, leave, and never return.
I could leave now.
But not when Grandma was still here, even if she was starting to not remember me.
Remember all the happy times in my childhood with her.
I closed my eyes as a small pain pierced my heart. I forced myself to shake away the thoughts and grabbed three bottles of beer when another waitress approached me.
We didn’t serve anything but beer during the fights, which made my job easier.
The girl dropped thirty dollar bills on the table before she grabbed the beer, and I shoved them in the black pouch I was wearing around my waist.
Another round of cheers came up, and I looked over at the ring to see one man with blood dripping down the entirety of his face, stumbling around a bit.
The other man, the one I knew better than the other fighters—Brody—and in a much better condition than the first man, threw his arm back and punched the stumbling man in the face.
It didn’t look like Brody needed to put the full force of the weight on the punch, but whatever force he used, it was enough to have the first man fall back on the ground, his limbs splayed.
I felt like I could breathe a little better because Brody won. Not only because it would make Dad happy, considering how much money he’d put into the man, but also because Brody wasn’t too bad.
The people in the audience started counting.
“One… two… three!”
Loud cheers came out as the bell dinged, announcing the end of the fight.
Dad walked onstage with a big smile on his face and grabbed Brody’s hand, pausing a little, then raised both of their hands up to announce he was the winner.
