Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

By: Debra Kayn

Book 5, Moroad Motorcycle Club series





Dedication


To all the people who have a little crazy in them — Life is hard. There's sorrow, grief, stress, hardships, loss, devastation, responsibilities and a myriad of other fallacies that plague each of us while we do our best to look at the silver lining in the clouds.

Take the time to have fun. Grab a book and escape into another world for a few hours. Take a walk around your neighborhood. Throw the ball for your dog. Randomly kiss your husband until you're dizzy. Sing at the top of your lungs on the way to work. Hug your babies.

To Abby — Yeah, that's right, I'm writing a dedication to my dog. After so many books I've run out of friends and family. Considering I think my dog is crazy it's only fitting that she gets mentioned. She's half Australian Shepherd and something else. Maybe wolf. She's loyal, but a scaredy-cat. She can hold her bladder for twenty-four hours because she witnessed a pine needle falling in the yard. That's talent. She sprained her ankle jumping off a rock wall in our entertainment area and at this moment, she's faking a limp. Puppies send her running. Cheese brings her to me. She forgets daily who Wheels is when he walks through the door, but goes to him first when she wants a bone. Her favorite thing in the world is riding on the back of the ATV. Physically, she's beautiful. Mentally, she's crazy. Love you, Abby-girl.





Acknowledgments


Wallace, Idaho — As most of you know, Federal Idaho where my Bantorus MC and Moroad MC series books are based is set in my hometown of Wallace, Idaho. It's wonderful to live in an area where we take pride in our colorful past, rich history, and mining. Most of all the acceptance of those we call neighbors. Thank you to Ryan Motel, Lux Rooms, Oasis Bordello Museum, Wallace Inn, Rossi Building, Shoshone County Sheriff's Department, Harvest Food, Hecla Mining, Molly B'Damn Motel and the community for adding that special touch to my books.

Daydream Believer Book Blog — The support and dedication you give is phenomenal. Thank you for running the Moroad MC Support Group and giving readers a safe place to tear apart my books. Thanks for keeping it real, maintaining the list, and spreading your love to epic levels.

Moroad MC Support Group —To all the readers who joined —Between the deep discussions, the back and forth debates, and sharing your feelings about the books, you all have created something wonderful. In the wacky world of publishing, readers came together over their mutual love of books and offered each other understanding, appreciation, and new friends. By far, you're the best group of readers out there!

More Than Words Promotions — Thank you for taking the stress out of my releases. Your professionalism and promptness make my releases special.

My Family — It's simple. I love you.





Chapter One


A siren brought Jacko out of bed. He stood in front of the window, orienting himself to his location. Blue and red lights lit up the concrete block wall, settling him down. He wasn't in a prison cell at Idaho State Penitentiary, but in the bedroom of his apartment above Cleo's Coffee Cave in Federal, Idaho.

The lights and sirens of the sheriff's rig cruised down Main Street after some poor asshole, leaving Jacko alone. He wiped the sweat off his face with his hand and walked naked to the light switch. He hated the dark. He hated enclosures. He hated life.

Despite shrouding the room in light, the walls closed in on him. He dressed, putting on his jeans, socks, boots, and stuffing his pistol inside the hidden pocket in his Moroad Motorcycle Club vest before walking out of the seedy apartment. He hadn't slept four straight hours for months, since Merk, his MC brother, moved out.

The physical exhaustion hammered his legs, weakening the muscles and making them cramp going down the stairs. He stepped outside and inhaled the cool night air. In an hour, the sun would rise above the Bitterroot Mountains and chase the spring chill away.

He was getting damn tired of the cold and wearing most of the clothes he owned when weather permitted a ride between snow flurries and warmer temperatures. He wanted the freedom of leaving, though he'd never go far.

Moroad Motorcycle Club stayed close to Federal, because of the restrictions the court put on each member after their release from prison. He walked down the sidewalk, ignoring his Harley sitting at the curb. Only him, Rash, Paul, Kev, Mayor, and Mister walked out of the state penitentiary without any rules attached to their freedom, because Cam worked a deal with the commissioner to pardon them early.

Unfortunately, Mayor died running the gun chain in a deal that had gone bad. The others stayed close, either to seek safety around the club or because they had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no life outside the Cyclone fence of the Idaho State Penitentiary.

Jacko turned at the corner of the street behind Rail Point Bar and headed toward Main Street. He asked himself every day why he stuck around, and the answer was always the same. He had no direction to go, until he killed every son of a bitch who stole Sarah from him, took her to Mexico, and let the sex slave industry kill her.

A rumble brought his head up as a Bantorus Motorcycle Club member rode toward him. He lifted his chin, skipped a few steps, waved his arms, and settled down into a walk as the roar of the engine weaned away. Nobody questioned his reasons for being outside in the early morning hours or bothered him during the daylight.

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