Demented Sons, Volume One
Copyright 2019 Kristine Allen
Colton’s Salvation
Text copyright 2017 Kristine Allen
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States of America.
First published in May, 2017.
Second Edition 2019
Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations
Photographer: FuriousFotog
Cover Model: Chase Ketron
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Formatting: Champagne Formats
Mason’s Resolution
Text copyright 2017 Kristine Allen, Demented Sons Publishing.
All Rights Reserved.
Published in the United States of America.
First published in September, 2017.
Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations ctcovercreations.com
Cover Model Photo: Courtesy of Aleksey Satyrenko
Editing: Virginia Cantrell, Hot Tree Editing hottreeediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Book Design champagnebookdesign.com
Eriks’ Absolution
Text copyright 2017 Kristine Allen, Demented Sons Publishing.
All Rights Reserved.
Published in the United States of America.
First published in December, 2017.
Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations ctcovercreations.com
Photographer: Eric McKinney
Cover Model: Mark Somsky
Editing: Virginia Cantrell and Jenny Zepeda, Hot Tree Editing hottreeediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Book Design champagnebookdesign.com
Kayde’s Temptation
Text copyright 2018 Kristine Allen, Demented Sons Publishing.
All Rights Reserved.
Published in the United States of America.
First published in March, 2018.
Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations ctcovercreations.com
Photographer: Eric McKinney, 6:12 Photography
Cover Model: Chase Ketron
Editing: Virginia Cantrell, Hot Tree Editing hottreeediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Book Design champagnebookdesign.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. For information message kristine.allen.author@gmail.com.
Warning: This book contains offensive language, violence and sexual situations. Mature audiences only, 18+ years of age.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Colton's Salvation
Dedication
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-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
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Mason's Resolution
Dedication
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
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Erik's Absolution
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Tw
enty-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
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Spanish Translation Key
Word from the Author and Preview
Acknowledgements
Kayde's Temptation
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Spanish Translations
Acknowledgements
Other Books
About the Author
To my mom, who gave me my voracious appetite for books, and to my dad, who always has unfailing belief in me (but I still don’t want you to read this)…
Early April 2013
“YOU’RE GOING WITH ME. Period.”
“No. No, I’m not. I’m so close, Becca. Nearly four years of late nights, no sleep, and running myself into the ground trying to keep up my scholarship. Oh, and don’t forget working a side job so I’d be able to eat.” I’m told that is a little important, eating.
I was desperately trying to study, but my roommate and best friend, Becca, would not leave me alone about this year-end party. What was it about “I have finals coming up” that she could not seem to comprehend? I was stressed, I looked like total crap on a stick, I knew I had so much to study over the next few weeks that my head might actually explode, and yet she kept yapping on and on about this stupid party that I didn’t have time for. Hell, she should be studying too.
“Come on! I don’t think you’ve done anything for yourself in the last four years, Steph. When was the last time you let go and had fun?” she pestered. “This is the biggest get-together of the year. We’re almost graduates! It’s Friday night, and you have tomorrow and Sunday to study. Please? Please go with me. Brent’s supposed to be there, and I need you to be my wingman. You know I can barely say three coherent words around him. I need you for support.” Becca literally folded her hands in prayer as she plopped down in the chair next to me.
Guilt.
Of course she would lay on guilt.
“And when have I ever been a good wingman for you?” I deadpanned. Although, she was correct in saying I hadn’t done anything fun in forever. I honestly didn’t know why she was still friends with me. We were polar opposites. She was the bubbly, cheerful, passionate one; I was the studious, quiet, focused one. The only thing I’d been passionate about was my cooking.
I absolutely loved to cook, which was why I’d chosen Iowa State to pursue my degree in culinary science. Why couldn’t I have gone for teaching, accounting, or something “normal” as many of my friends did? But of course not. Years ago, I’d sworn to my grandmother I would do something I enjoyed.
With my minor in business management, I had dreams of owning my own restaurant someday—a restaurant where I was a world-renowned chef, of course. People would come from all over the world to sample my culinary masterpieces. If a girl’s going to dream, it should be big, right?
“Are you even listening to me?” Becca complained as she smacked a hand on the table.
Um, no.
Sighing, I pulled the end of my pen from between my teeth where I had been nervously holding it as I tried to study.
“Becca, I can’t. I just can’t. I have to get a nearly perfect score on this test and the final if I want to maintain my GPA. You know Professor Higgins hates me because I was late to her class the first day. She has made my life miserable all semester because of that!”
Shooting me an impassive look, she huffed. “Seriously, Steph? You have gotten a solid A in every class since freshman year. I think you’ll be fine if you don’t finish this class with perfect grades. Besides, after we graduate, it’ll probably be forever before I see you!” Then she pouted.
I knew she was right.
She was heading back home to Council Bluffs, and I was headed to the “big city” somewhere to follow my dreams. I blew a clump of my long bangs out of my eyes and buried my face in my hands with my elbows resting on the table.
“Okay. Fine,” I said, “but I’m not staying all night, and I’m not drinking!”
Oh, the best-laid plans….
WHY THE HELL HAD I agreed to go to a stupid college party?
I would’ve rather headed to a small bar to have a few beers and chill.
Shit.
Mason may be my battle buddy, but he sure knew how to fuck up my plans.
I’d figured heading home with him while on block leave would be a good distraction from our pending deployment, but I didn’t plan on hanging with a bunch of college punks.
Over eight years and five deployments in the army as a ranger sniper put me on a totally different level than these kids. Making it through airborne training, then ranger training, plus sniper school was hellacious in itself. I’d probably seen more shit in six months of a single deployment than they’d see their entire lives.
Shit they couldn’t imagine seeing.
Watching Mason put the moves on a cute blonde, I leaned back against the old barn, slowly drinking my beer. She seemed to be falling hook, line, and sinker for his smile. Typical.
Looked like someone was getting lucky tonight, but it sure as hell wasn’t me.
In my opinion, he put too much effort in that shit. Either the bitch wanted to get laid or she didn’t. I preferred chicks who knew what the score was and didn’t need sweet words and roses.
Truthfully, that night I’d wanted to enjoy a cold beer and relax. Which was exactly why I wanted to hit a small bar, not some crappy college party at a farm in the middle of Nowheresville, Iowa.
Fuck me.
I tipped up my beer, enjoying the cold, slightly bitter brew as it washed across my tongue and down my throat. Sitting in the cool grass, the old wood of the barn pressed to my back, I continued to quietly scan the area as I rested my arms on my knees, the bottle dangling loosely from my hand.
Some habits die hard.
I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was difficult to maintain my cool with the crowd milling around and the loud music and laughter coming from the barn. I could feel the bass resonating into my spine through the wood of the barn. Everything was a little too loud, a little too hectic.
Definitely not my scene.
Bored, I looked around the crowd once again, scanning over the people on the makeshift dance floor under the trees strung with those Christmas-y white lights. I noticed a fiery redhead dancing with her arms in the air as a blonde football-star type held her waist from the back and ground against her ass.
Fireball, as I dubbed the redhead, seemed to be eating it up as she threw a coy, seductive smile over her shoulder. She was hot as hell, and I was surprised Mason hadn’t gone for her. He had a weakness for redheads. When she danced to the side a little, I got a good look at her friend. Another football-st
ar type danced behind her.
Do they mass produce these guys here or what? Jesus.
The blonde was smiling and laughing until jock-face got touchy-feely and let his fingers move up her waist to her tits. I’m not saying they weren’t nice, but I didn’t like the way the sequins sparkled between his fingers as he cupped his splayed fingers over them.
Damn asshole.
She obviously wasn’t cool with it, because she grabbed his wrists, trying to bring his hands back down. That was when he scowled and jerked her close as he said something in her ear.
Whatever he said erased her smile. She looked troubled as he backed them away from her friend. Once they were far enough away, he grabbed her arm, dragging her over to a picnic table away from the rest of the party.
That happened to bring them within earshot of me. Neither of them noticed me thanks to the shadows along the side of the barn.
“You shouldn’t be such a fucking tease,” I heard him tell her as he pushed her to the end of the table. When he forced his body between her legs and ran his hand up her thigh, my heart raced and I started to get pissed.
Hell, I didn’t even know the chick, but my mama raised me to be a gentleman. At least as well as she could before she died. I tried my best to remember that.
“Rick, stop! Come on, let’s head back to the dance floor. Becca’s going to wonder where I am.” At her pleading request, fire built inside me. When he tried to lean in to her, forcing her to lie back toward the top of the table, she started to struggle.
Slowly, I rose from my seated position and gripped my beer bottle by the neck.
Motherfucker obviously didn’t know what “no” meant.
I knew I shouldn’t get involved. Except something in the tone of her voice begged me to be the fucking hero.
I wasn’t a hothead.
Usually.
In my line of work, that didn’t fly. It could end your career, possibly even your life—quickly.
Stealthily, I walked the short distance toward them.
“Fucking John Wayne to the motherfuckin’ rescue,” I muttered.
Shit.
DAMMIT, I KNEW I should have stayed home. I’d broken every damn rule I’d set for the night.
Instead, I’d drunk every shot Becca handed me and danced with Brent’s asshole friend just so she could dance with Brent.
That night I’d let Becca pick out one of her cute little outfits for me. She’d dressed me up in a flared skirt. One that was waaaaay too short. Hell, a couple times I had to check to be sure my ass wasn’t flashing everyone. A tight, black, low-cut tee with “Harley” spelled out in sequins topped it off. If I breathed too deep, the girls might’ve popped out of Becca’s loaned push-up bra.