Broken Bitch

Broken Series Book 2

by A.L. Simpson

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Callie McKenzie hadn't had a good introduction to life.

A drug addicted mother caught in the crossfire of a bar shootout saw her dumped in the foster system at the age of thirteen.

Life finally seemed to take a turn for the better when she was offered adoption by a kindly couple but, she knew it couldn't last. Tragedy puts an end to her dream of a happy life when she is taken to the isolated farm of an abusive distant relative.

At the age of seventeen, beaten and bruised, fearing for her life, Callie flees.

In the dead of night, on a lonely road, Jake Prentiss - President of a motorcycle club, finds her stumbling to freedom.

In the weeks that follow she is slowly pieced back together and falls hard for her knight in shining leather. It doesn't last long and tragedy once again strikes.

At the age of eighteen, Callie finds herself alone again and in prison.

Her cousin always said she was a BITCH.

Now, she was also BROKEN.

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Present Day

My name is Callie Louise McKenzie. I’m eighteen years old and a product of a fucked-up court system. A woman with attitude who knows what it’s like to be chewed up and spat out. I’m a hard bitch who has learned to look out for myself because I know no-one else will.

My life spiraled downward. I didn’t think it was possible to sink any lower than I already was.

So, after eighteen years of surviving hell, I was finally broken.

This is my story………

CHAPTER ONE

CALLIE

The Past

At thirteen years old, I was alone. I had no-one and nothing.

My mama had been a part-time bartender at the Grey Turtle bar in a seedy part of downtown Foster near where we lived. Home had been a dingy one-bedroom apartment with next to no furniture, no heating, peeling paintwork and black mold spreading over the walls and ceilings. Mama preferred her drug fix to food and somewhere decent to live.

Three months ago, while working the bar, she’d been caught in the crossfire of a shootout between two gangs. She died instantly. It was three days later before I found out. I’d been making a stale-bread sandwich when a knock came at the door. It was a Child Protective Services Officer who told me about mama and took me away. Why didn’t I know before then, you ask? It wasn’t unusual for mama to take off with a couple of druggies from the area and return several days later.

Most days I took myself off to school, they never questioned my scruffy appearance, as most of the kids from where I lived were the same.

So, off I went with a lady called Giselle. She took me to her office and I sat quietly while she made a phone call.

"Petra, it’s Giselle. I have a thirteen-year-old girl who I need an urgent placement for."

Giselle paused and listened to someone on the other end of the phone before speaking again.

"I have a couple in mind for her, shouldn’t be any longer than three months."

She paused and listened again.

"Thanks. I’ll bring her by tonight."

She hung up the phone and turned to me.

"I'm going to take you to a home where you’ll be looked after while we search for your father. Do you know his name?"

"Nope. Mama said he was a stranger passing through town and all he wanted was her pussy in exchange for some drugs."

"Did your mother use drugs often?"

"All the time."

"Who took care of you, bought your clothes, cooked?"

"I took care of myself and cooked. Clothes came from the Goodwill bin."

Giselle sighed and patted my hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Rostenkowski will be paid money by the Government to feed and clothe you so, you won’t have to worry about that anymore."

"I’m not worried, I’ve looked after me and mama for as long as I can remember."

"Well, now you get to be a young girl. Did you attend school?"

"Yes. Foster City."

Giselle frowned. She obviously knew how rough the area was. "Are your grades good?"

"Very, I like school and my grades are better than the other kids."

She nodded and I could see that look in her eyes which said, that’s one thing you have going for you. Heaven knew I didn’t have anything else.

I was delivered into misery that very same evening.

****

"Callie, get your skinny ass down here now." Mrs. R, as she allowed me to call her, bellowed and I wondered what I’d done now.

I raced down the stairs and found her in the kitchen cleaning up Joel, her biological two-year-old. He was covered in white powdery goop.

"I told you to keep an eye on him while I brought the laundry in."

She hadn’t, but after three months in this house, I’d learned, you didn’t argue. "I’m sorry, would you like me to take him upstairs and bath him?"

She thrust one of his little arms toward me. "Yes, get him cleaned up before his father comes home and sees what you’ve let him do."

I scooped the little boy into my arms and hurried away. He’s a sweet little fella and the light in the darkness of my existence. I closed the bathroom door after we entered, and after turning on the water and ensuring it wasn’t too hot, I stripped him of his white covered clothing.

"Fun, Cawee."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I can see you had fun."

Once he was undressed, I swept him into my arms and lowered him into the bath. He kicked his chubby legs, clapped his hands and chuckled when I threw in his plastic duck and a boat.

"I have to wash your hair, you have sticky goop stuck in it."

He gave me a look of sheer panic. "Noooo, Cawee. No wash hair."

"Sorry, bud, I can’t leave it like that. If you’re a good boy, I’ll read you a story when we’re done."

"Okay."

Washing the little boy's hair was uneventful, I think the thought of it scared him more than the actual doing. In no time at all, he was scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes.

"Let’s go and read a story while we wait for your mama to make supper."

Joel clasped my hand and I walked him downstairs to the living room. I’d no sooner sat down and the doorbell rang.

"Callie, get that." I swear half the neighborhood could hear Mrs. R when she yelled.

"Okay," I called back.

Joel followed me into the hallway and I opened the door to Giselle.

"Hi, Giselle. Do you want to see Mrs. R?"

"Yes, I need to talk with her. Is she here?"

"In the kitchen."

"Go back to what you were doing, I’ll speak with you shortly."

I closed the door, and while Giselle headed to the kitchen, I returned to the living room with Joel. He selected a book from a basket which held some of his toys and toddled toward me.

His chubby arms straightened and he held it in front of me. "Storwee, Cawee."

I lifted him onto my lap and opened the book. Joel pointed at the picture. "Owl."

"That’s right."

"Callie, can you come to the kitchen please?" Giselle stood in the doorway.

I placed Joel on the floor and encouraged him to play with his toys. Before I had left the room, he was pulling favorite cars and trucks from the depths of the basket. I followed Giselle to the kitchen where Mrs. R stood not looking happy.

"Am I in trouble?" I couldn’t think of anything I could have done wrong.

Giselle placed her hand on my arm. "Of course not, honey. I’m here to tell you, your pre-adoption has been formalized and your new parents are waiting at my office."

I wasn’t sure what to think of this news. On one hand, I wanted to jump for joy at the thought of leaving this place. I wouldn’t miss the shouting or the chores I was expected to do. I was more like an unpaid maid than a foster child. There was never enough to eat and I often went to bed hungry. The clothes I was given were only just above the garments I’d had from Goodwill. On the other hand, I would be sad to leave Joel.

"Don’t worry about packing anything unless you have something special. Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie have purchased everything you need."

"We can leave as soon as you say goodbye and thank Mrs. Rostenkowski."

I turned toward Mrs. R. "Thank you for having me. Please say goodbye to Mr. R for me."

She nodded sternly, no doubt wondering when she would receive her next slave. I didn’t bother to hug the woman, she wouldn’t know affection if it jumped up and bit her on the ass.

"I’ll just go and say goodbye to Joel." My voice was thick and tears sprang free as I trudged to the living room. I knelt down near the sweet little boy. "Joel, I have to go away."

He turned to me and smiled. "Cawee, pway?"

I drew him into my arms and kissed his chubby cheeks. "No, sweetheart. I have to go to a new home now. You be a good boy for your mama." I kissed him again, stood and rushed to the front door. Giselle was waiting for me and placed an arm around my shoulders.

"Everything will be better for you with the McKenzie’s. They have wanted a child for so long but because of their ages, they were only allowed a teenager. You’ll be good for each other."

I nodded as I sucked back a sob and followed her down the steps to her car. I climbed into the passenger seat and fastened the belt before Giselle turned the key and started the engine. We remained silent as she weaved through the streets back to her office.

****

A beautiful lady stood when we entered Giselle’s office. She was tall with long, wavy brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. When she smiled at me, I knew I was going to like her.

"You must be Callie." She offered her hand.

I gave it a tentative shake. "Yes, pleased to meet you." And, I was.

"My name is Rebecca McKenzie but I would like for you to call me mother."

I frowned, it was a bit soon for me to be calling a stranger, mother. But, I decided it was no skin off my nose. "Okay, mother."

A man stood beside her. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He stepped forward and offered me his hand. "I’m Patrick McKenzie. You can call me daddy or Mac. I’ll leave it up to you."

I shook hands and lowered my eyes, I felt shy. "Mac, I think, please."

"Mac, it is. Are you ready to leave?"

I glanced at Giselle.

"I know these people are strangers to you, Callie, but we have carefully vetted and selected them to be your adoptive parents. You will live with them for the next six months. During that time, I'll visit regularly and if everything works out, the official papers will be signed making them your legal parents."

"What happens if they decide they don’t want me?" The thought of being shuffled from foster home to foster home terrified me.

Mother crouched down and gathered my hands into hers. "Honey, we have waited a very long time for a child to call our own, we aren’t going to decide we don’t want you."

Her soothing, gentle voice set me at ease and I felt myself relax. I turned to Mac. "I’m ready."

He smiled broadly. "Let our new lives begin."

They each gathered one of my hands and, after bidding Giselle goodbye, we left the office to head home. Home, would it be everything I’d dreamed of?

Broken Bastard

Broken Series Book 1

Present Day

My name is Tyler Maxwell Alexander. I'm twenty-eight years old. A few months ago, I had it all. An executive job in a prestigious investment firm owned by my father. Ha! Yeah, right - father. I'll explain about that later. I lived in a waterfront apartment overlooking the harbor and drove a Mercedes convertible. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. All of it. Everything, except the fucking clothes on my back. I was broken. A bastard. Did I mention, I'm gay? No? Oh well, I have now.

This is the story of how my fairytale life turned to shit in the blink of an eye.......

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I spend the rest of the afternoon working on the Murphy account. A couple in their mid-fifties, like my dad, who want to earn a little extra money to help make their retirement a comfortable one. They want a third of their funds in safe investments, forty percent in low risk and the last thirty percent in high risk.

Maxine and Thomas Murphy are a nice couple and I enjoy our chats when they come to my office. They are the typical mom and dad investors our firm caters to and have one hundred and twenty thousand dollars to invest. Not much to a business like ours. It's five in the evening when I close the file, satisfied I have placed their money wisely.

My phone buzzes and I smile as the message flashes on the screen. It's Ryan. "Good for tonight? 6pm at Riccardo's?"

I text back, "yes" before pushing the chair back and standing. The files, previously scattered all over my desk, are placed back in their folders in a walnut cabinet by the wall. I check nothing is left out before turning the key in the lock to secure them for the night. That's something else that pisses me off - dad will only allow old fashioned hardcopy files. He doesn't know, that against his instructions, I also have them on my computer. I swear to fucking God, my father and brother are dinosaurs.

I leave my office and am halfway down the hallway to the elevator when dad calls from behind. I groan, wondering what he'll want now. Turning around, I wait for him to approach.

"Dad?"

"Where are you going?"

"Out for a drink with a friend." Not that it's any of your fucking business.

He raises an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?"

Yeah, nope, he doesn't know I'm gay. None of my family are privy to that tidbit of information. While mom and my brother would not take it well, dad would fucking lose it. He's by far the worst bigot I know. I can see it now, the explosion of his temper would catapult us into the fucking stratosphere. Nope, definitely not going to give him that piece of information anytime soon, if ever.

"No, friend from school. Why?"

Dad shoves his hands in the pockets of his Gucci pants and lowers his eyes to the floor.

I follow his line of sight wondering what is suddenly so interesting down there. His feet shuffle about and I wonder what he is so nervous about.

"Dad?"

He lifts his eyes to mine and licks his lips. Hmmm, definitely nervous.

"Samuel didn't get the account."

"I could say, I told you so." I'm a smug sonofabitch. He's taught me some things well.

"Yeah, well there's more." Dad swallows so hard, his Adam's apple moves from the bottom of his throat to the top at the speed of an express elevator. "Pope wants to leave four hundred thousand with us, like he told you, for high risk investment. The rest he is taking from us. He will only stay if you handle his account."

"Why me? You said yourself, Samuel would do a better job." I can't resist throwing his earlier sarcastic words back in his face.

"He said he'll go high risk and pay our thirty percent only with you because you've never let him down. He only trusts you."

I lean against the wall, cross one leg over the other and fold my arms over my chest. "You said the account was no longer mine so I'm focusing on other clients now." I'm enjoying doing this to the fucker, making him sweat. As an executive of the company, I can accept or refuse any account as I see fit. Dad knows this and he also knows, he's rubbed me the wrong way.