Disturbed Lucidity (Disturbed MC Book 1), page 1
Contents
DISTURBED LUCIDITY
DEDICATION
DISTURBED LUCIDITY
Warning
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Disturbed MC Members
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DISTURBED LUCIDITY
A Dark Disturbed Romance
REBECCA JOYCE
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DISTURBED LUCIDITY
A Dark Disturbed Romance
Copyright © Rebecca Joyce 2024
Proofreaders: Tracy Harvey
Editor: Kelly Wyvell
Copy Editor: Nicola Thorpe
First E-book Publication: 2024, July 19th by Rebecca Joyce
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
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DEDICATION
I never knew I could feel so much pain.
And yet, be so in love with the person causing it.
~ author unknown.
DISTURBED LUCIDITY
A Dark Disturbed Romance
Rebecca Joyce
Warning
The book you are about to read is disturbing.
It contains elements of everything depraved and straddles the lines of moral ambiguity.
This is a hardcore MC BDSM book with a strong Sadist/Masochist relationship.
While the sex is consensual, it pushes the boundaries.
Now is your chance to turn back.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Prologue
Fort Leavenworth, Leavenworth, Kansas... 15yrs ago,
Standing facing the wall, I gazed at the only picture I had in my small eight-by-eight cell while I counted down the minutes.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Soon I would be out of this fucking hell and then the real fun would begin. For twelve years, they’d kept me hidden, locked up in this fucking place to silence me, hoping I wouldn’t make it out alive.
I’ll give them one thing.
They tried mercilessly to ensure I never left. They almost succeeded twice, too. The last endeavor cost me six months on life support and eighteen months in the med-bay. They tried everything but never counted on my desire for revenge.
Revenge was a funny thing. For some, it overwhelmed them to the point of insanity, but for someone like me, revenge was the air I breathed, the blood coursing through my veins, the very thing that kept me alive.
“It’s time, Captain.”
“I know, Ensign.”
“Gonna be different around here without you.”
Reaching for the only thing of value to me, I slid the picture into my breast pocket before walking over to the young man standing outside my cell. “Ensign, you ever need anything. Come find me when your tour is up in this place.”
“I just might do that, Captain,” the young ensign declared before reaching for the metal cuffs, shaking his head. “I really hate doing this, but you know the rules, sir.”
Holding out my hands, I expressed nothing when the young ensign placed the cuffs on my wrists for the last time before he escorted me to out-processing. The entire process took entirely too damn long, but I kept quiet and only answered when asked a direct question.
I served my time and nothing or no one was going to stop me from leaving this place. And when the young ensign escorted me to the gates and removed the metal cuffs, he stepped back, then shocked me as he stood at attention and saluted me.
“It was an honor, sir.”
Saluting him back, I extended my hand, waiting for him to take it. When he did, I reminded him of our conversation earlier that morning before turning and walking out of the gates that had kept me prisoner for the last twelve years to find a few men from my former team waiting for me.
No longer clean-cut men dressed in full military regalia, they looked more like something out of a sinister Mad Max movie.
“Who’s the kid?”
Turning back around, I saw the young ensign watching while I greeted the men of my former team when I clearly stated, “Ensign Sharp.”
“He gonna be a problem?”
Facing Logic, I growled, “No. Where the fuck is everyone else?”
“Frost is picking up Slash and Berlin at the airport. Fuckers finally got their marching orders. They will meet us at the clubhouse in a few days. Agony and Trash are with Saint. They have a surprise for you not far from here. We’re meeting them there before heading back to North Carolina.”
“Indigo?”
Alias stared me dead in the eyes as Logic answered, “Indigo is hunting.” Nodding, I didn’t need to know any more as I slung my leg over my bike and started the engine.
About an hour later, I pulled up to an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere, in bumfuck Kansas. I really fucking hated this state and planned on never seeing it again. Stepping off my bike, Logic threw me a pack of cigarettes, and I happily ripped off the cellophane, desperately needing the nicotine rush.
“Where the fuck are we?”
“Nowhere special,” Logic muttered, throwing me a lighter while I placed the cigarette in my mouth. Taking my time, I lit the end and inhaled, knowing that no cigarette afterward would be as sweet as the one I was smoking now. Closing my eyes, I let the burn soak into my lungs and sighed while I slowly blew out the smoke.
“This way, Prez,” Alias said, walking towards the shack.
Following with Logic behind me, I walked in to find Saint leaning back in a chair, sleeping with his feet up against the wall, snoring loudly as Agony and Trash played a game of cards. The second they saw me, Trash pointed to my left, and when I saw what was waiting for me, I grinned.
“Now that is a welcome home gift.”
Bound and gagged, hanging from a support beam, was none other than the fucking JAG investigator who’d destroyed my career just so he could advance up the ranks.
Taking a seat at the table next to Trash, I snuffed out my cigarette before lighting another. I glared at the hanging man before me.
“Why isn’t he struggling?”
Trash chuckled while he shuffled the deck of cards, and Agony sat stone faced.
“Agie wanted to have some fun,” Trash answered.
Quirking my eyebrow at him, I took a long drag off my cigarette and I waited for him to say something.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms over his head, and sighed. “What?”
“Explain.”
From behind me, the snoring stopped, and Saint muttered, “Fucker stuck a cattle prod up the douchebag’s ass. Evil bastard rewired the damn thing to electrocute numbnuts here, every time he moved. Bastard learned quick and has been a fucking statue ever since.”
Glancing at Agony, my brother smirked.
Shaking my head, I looked at Logic. “Anyone know he’s missing?”
“Nope. Fucker was boarding a plane for San Marcos when we acquired him. No one will notice him missing for at least two weeks.”
“He say why he was going to the Philippines?”
“Vacation.” Saint groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. “Can I kill him now? I’m bored.”
Getting to my feet, I walked over to the soon-to-be-dead man and blew smoke in his face. Seeing him grimace put a smile on my face.
“You ready to talk, asshole?”
When the hanging man blinked twice, I knew this was going to be a long night.
Chapter One
Ivy
Present day,
“This can’t be right,” I whispered, reaching into my back pocket for my phone. I stared conspicuously at the large brick building across the street. I mean, it looked like any brick building on a semi-busy street, with the various motorcycles lined up. A big mountain of a man guarded the front door as numerous tattooed men fucked off doing God knows what, like they were at a Sunday picnic.
Guess it was a typical Tuesday.
Thumbing through my emails, I found the one I was looking for and opened it. Skimming the contents for the address he sent me; I sighed when I realized I was in the right place.
Lowering my phone, I looked across the street and groaned.
Really, Mikie? A motorcycle club?
When I reached out to my long-time friend and asked for a fresh start with no drama, I didn’t know what to expect. But it sure as hell wasn’t a damn motorcycle club. Talk about drama up the ass. I’d seen how bikers could be. Been around a few a time or two. The fuckers didn’t understand the meaning of drama-free.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I stepped off the curb, only to jump back when a car horn blared when it drove past.
Jesus, Ivy. Don’t get yourself killed before you even see him.
Checking both ways, I saw a break in traffic and ran across the street. Bikes of all kinds lined up in front of the building as bikers milled lazily around, drinking without a fucking care in the world.
Yep... definitely a Tuesday.
With a tight grip on my backpack, I headed for the front door as a few of the bikers stopped what they were doing, giving me their undivided attention.
It was nothing new.
Everywhere I went, people gawked.
The big guy guarding the door, who stood close to six foot six with tattoos covering every inch of his muscular arms, sneered at me when I approached. He was the one standing between me and entering the club. And from the look on his face, he wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat.
“Bitches enter from the back.”
Excuse me? I know this motherfucker didn’t just call me a bitch.
“I’m here to see Michael Myers.”
“No one here by that name.”
“Please check for me. This is the address he gave me.”
“Look, bitch. Said ain’t no one here by that name.”
Seeing that the men lazing around now fixed their gaze on me, I steeled myself. I didn’t want any trouble, far from it, but I knew Mikie wouldn’t give me this address unless he was here. I just needed to get this big ape to let me inside.
“This is 1369 Goldwater Drive, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am at the right address,” I said, standing my ground. I didn’t hitchhike across the fucking country for some asshole to turn me away. If Mikie was in that damn building, I was getting in. “Look, I just want to speak with Mike. Can I go inside and look for him?”
“Like I said. Bitches enter from the back.”
“Call me a bitch one more time and we’re gonna have a fucking problem, you troglodyte.”
“What the fuck did you just call me?” The big man stepped forward.
The door he was guarding opened and a man with spiked white hair and the clearest set of ice-cold blue eyes I’d ever seen smiled at me as he looked me up and down.
“Fresh meat?”
“Told this bitch she needed to go around back. Think she’s hard of hearing.”
“And I told you I’m not a bitch.”
“Who are you looking for?” the man with the white spiked hair asked.
“Michael Myers. He gave me this address. Told me to be here by three. It’s three and this asshole won’t let me go inside to see if he’s here.”
“Myers?” the guy smirked, shaking his head. “Big, funny looking guy with curly red hair, looks like little orphan Annie?”
I smirked. “I always thought he looked more like Howdy Doody, but yeah, that’s him.”
“Hannibal, text Slash and tell him he has a guest,” the guy ordered, then looked at me. “Follow me. I’m Logic.”
“Makes sense,” I muttered, doing as the guy said when he frowned at me. Gulping, I added, “Sorry. I meant nothing by it. It’s just that you seem to be the only one around here that understands the meaning of logic, besides I’m almost positive that big oaf couldn’t even spell the word.”
Opening the door and letting me walk in first, he whispered, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I didn’t know what I expected when I walked inside, but whatever it was, had nothing on what I was seeing. A long bar to my left took up the entire wall, with shelves of every kind of liquor I could imagine lining the walls. A big burly man stood behind the bar, eyes focused directly on me as I slowly stepped forward. To my right were several tables and booths that sat in front of the blacked-out windows, only allowing those on the inside to see out. The smell of smoke, booze, and sex rankled my nose. Women barely clothed with scraps of cloths either lounged around doing nothing or were propositioning men. One woman in particular was currently bent over a pool table in the far back corner as a man fucked her from behind. Music blasted from speakers attached to the walls, drowning out any semblance of conversation. In fact, I found it even hard to hear my own thoughts when the man named Logic said close to my ear, “Follow me.”
Nodding, I walked right behind him when he headed for the bar, pointing to a stool.
I dropped my backpack and sat.
“Whatcha doing with the Barbie doll, Logic? She lost?”
“Where is Slash?”
“In a meeting with the boss.”
Leaning against the bar, Logic looked at me and asked, “What is your name?”
“Ivy. Ivy Scott.”
“Ivy, this is Mouth,” Logic said, pointing to the man behind the bar. “Stay here, and I’ll go get Slash.”
Sitting at the bar, I noticed that every man with a leather cut on stared, not giving two fucks if it made me uncomfortable. Generally, having men look at me wouldn’t bother me. It was something I was used to my entire life, but this was different.
These weren’t just regular men.
There was something about the soulless depths in their eyes that told me these men didn’t have a fucking care in the world.
“Yo, Mouth”—a woman wearing what looked like a Band-Aid covering her ass and tits walked over, slamming a tray on the bar—“I need six beers and a Slippery Nipple.”
“What the fuck is that?” The bartender frowned, placing six bottles of beer on the tray.
“No fucking clue, but college-boy over there ordered one.”
“It’s a cocktail shot. Half Sambuca and half Baileys Irish Cream. I’d ask the guy if he’s looking to get his ass beat, ‘cause only someone looking to start a fight would order that shit.”
The bartender smirked. “That so?”
“Yep. Happens every time.”
“You know how to make it?”
I nodded.
“Well, climb on back here, Barbie, ‘cause I ain’t making that shit.”
Sliding off my stool, I walked around behind the bar, impressed with the set-up. It was an honest-to-God fucking bar. Everything was neat, organized, and clean. Reaching for a clean shot glass, I placed it on the bar, turning to grab the Baileys and Sambuca. After pouring the ingredients, I placed the shot glass on the tray and said to the server, “Serve the beers first, then ask the guy who ordered this who the recipient is. When he tells you, get ready to run.”
The young girl nodded and picked up the heavy tray.
Watching the waitress deliver the beers, she did exactly what I said, and when she placed the shot glass in front of a young man, the recipient jumped to his feet, tackling the jerk who’d ordered the drink.
Shaking my head, I muttered, “Every fucking time.”
