EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2020 Jade Marshall
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0172-1
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to each and every girl that ever set foot in Rosenhof High School along with the teachers and all the staff working in the hostels. No matter how far we stray from each other, or how often we speak, you will always be my family.
We are more than where we came from but never forget the path you took.
THE WOLF
Gypsy Bastards MC, 1
Jade Marshall
Copyright © 2020
Chapter One
Hadley
I hate my job.
It isn’t something I say to get people to pity me. I genuinely hate working at Mary’s Rib Shack. I hate the mauve one-piece uniform, made of an awful, itchy fabric. I hate that the owner likes us to show off our assets, which means our uniforms are short around the legs and low around the neck. I don’t particularly enjoy showing off my barely-there B cups, especially not to our clientele. I hate that Mary’s is in downtown Gypsy Falls and the people who show up here are sketchy at best, but most are completely creepy. But Mary pays in cash and I need to stay off the grid.
This isn’t something I’ve done out of choice but more out of necessity. Growing up around an outlaw motorcycle club, which I then managed to piss off—through no fault of my own, might I add—means running and hiding to stay alive. If King were to ever get his hands on me, I wouldn’t survive. Knowing that death chases me daily and could catch up with me at any moment ensures I always keep my head down.
The area where the diner is located is far from ideal, with drug dealers on every second corner and a nonexistent police response rate. From the linoleum flooring that’s cracked and peeling in places, to the faded leather booth seats, and the god-awful music, there isn’t a single thing about Mary’s Rib Shack that I don’t hate.
I work the evening shift until closing time, from four in the afternoon until around midnight. I want to be able to work my way out of this hellhole and provide a better life for myself. I have aspirations and being a waitress isn’t one of them.
One day, I want to be able to open my own tattoo parlor. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved drawing and through the years, I’ve honed my craft. Add to that the fact I did an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, learning from one of the best, and you have my dream. The only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.
“Hey, can we get some more coffee over here?” the man with the biker’s cut sitting in my section all but yells at me.
Earlier, I saw them enter and a chill ran right down my spine. My first instinct was to run, to get the hell out of here as quickly as my legs could carry me. After catching a glimpse of their patches and not recognizing their club, I was able to calm myself.
My hands shake, and my legs feel weak as I make my way to their table. Bikers terrify me. Not some bikers, but all bikers.
The three other guys with him seem rather normal-looking although anyone with eyes can tell that’s not the case. One blond and two with dark-brown hair, all of them with protruding beer bellies. The fourth man, the one who just spoke and whom I’m assuming is the leader of this merry band of misfits, gives me the straight-up chills.
He’s large, burly, and bald, with a snake tattoo running down his arm to his wrist. It’s garish and badly done with absolutely no detail. The man looks me over with eyes the color of mud as I refill the cups. There’s no depth to his eyes, just a flat deadness, and I try to avoid eye contact at all costs. I refill all four cups and start to move away when a large hand clamps around my wrist and pulls me back. Again, I feel this crawling sensation running over my skin. It takes everything I have within me not to pull away from his grip.
“Why don’t you sit down with us for a minute, darling?” the leader drawls at me.
“I can’t. I’m on shift and have to get back to my customers,” I reply while trying to pull my arm from his grip.
My breathing becomes shallow and a shiver works its way through my body. The need to get his hands off me is almost overwhelming.
“Well, now, Mary won’t mind, and the other waitress can see to your customers while you have a seat with us.”
He uses a tone that’s supposed to be reassuring but simply serves to creep me out even more. He yanks on my arm and I lose my balance, toppling forward and pouring half the remaining coffee down the front of his pants.
“You stupid fucking whore,” he bellows.
Before I can react, he backhands me across the face, causing me to fall. My head connects with the counter and then the floor with a resounding thud. Lying on the floor, all I can think is this is it, my last day at Mary’s. I would rather live on the fucking street than work here one more day. Regaining my senses and opening my eyes, I find complete chaos around me. All the guys from the table are on their feet. The two dark-haired men are holding back the guy who just slapped me. He’s doing his best to pull away from their grip and has his eyes trained on the front door to the diner.
Storm, my best friend, stands in the doorway. She’s a petite Asian woman with long black hair streaked with purple, full sleeve tattoos—courtesy of myself, a small waist, and an awesome set of all-natural C-cup breasts. Storm knows how to defend herself from the time she spent living on the street. She may be a stripper, but she will never let a man get the upper hand again. Apparently, she learned a painful lesson and quickly found someone to teach her how to defend herself.
In three-inch stilettos with her gun pointed straight at him, she stands her ground in front of this monster of a man.
“Viper, why don’t you take your little cronies and leave?” She’s deadly calm in the face of this man and for a moment, I envy her confidence. I haven’t moved from my spot on the floor and simply watch their exchange like the coward I have become.
“You know good and well that your kind isn’t welcome around here. Or do I need to make a call?” She appears calm while taking her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans.
Viper tries to charge at her again but the blond man steps between them.
“Time to go,” he says, and the other two men start pulling Viper toward the door on the other side of the diner.
“I’m gonna get you. You and your little waitress friend. You’re gonna pay. You hear me, Storm? You and that little cock tease!” he bellows as he’s dragged out. “That pussy club ain’t gonna save you.”
As soon as they are on the motorcycles and roaring into the distance, Storm puts her gun back in her purse and rushes over to me. “Oh, sweetie. Are you okay?” she inquires while pushing my hair from my face to inspect the damage.
“Hurts like a bitch but I’ll live. Gonna be blue tomorrow and I’ll probably have an egg on my head later, but I’ll be fine,” I assure her as I push up from the floor. “Thanks for the help.”
Storm looks at me with sympathy in her eyes, something I despise more than I can ever explain. I hate being seen for the weak, broken, scared little girl I become once I am faced with something that triggers my past. My past affects me more than I would like to admit, even to myself. So many things can trigger me and have me turning back
in on myself. For years, I have secluded myself from people except for a select few. My friendship with Storm often pushes my boundaries and I feel like she is helping me rejoin the world again, one little push at a time.
As she opens her mouth to respond, Mary comes shrieking around the corner.
“You stupid bitches. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Her face is blood red from the lack of oxygen during her rant and her over-styled, bleach-blonde hair flies all over the place.
“Those assholes are gonna burn my place to the fucking ground because of the two of you!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Storm turns a glare on her. “One of your staff members was just attacked, and all you can worry about is your business? What kind of person are you?”
Mary stares daggers at Storm as I pull myself to my feet.
“What’s wrong with me?” Mary continues shrieking. “Do you know who the fuck those guys were and how bad it can get when you fuck with them?”
“Yes, I do,” Storm says calmly. “Those are the limp-dick Mongrels MC and ain’t shit gonna happen to anyone. Pope is gonna lose his shit when he hears they were in his territory.”
Mary pales when she seems to realize Storm actually knows what she’s talking about.
“Now,” Storm says, looking back at me over her shoulder, “I am gonna take Hadley home and get some ice on her face. You’re gonna cover her tables and still pay her for the hours she’s missing. Because that’s what a good boss would do.”
“Oh, go choke on a dick, Storm. You won’t be telling me how to run my goddamn business. Why don’t you and Hadley just get her shit and get out because I don’t need to draw any more attention.”
She calmly turns to me and, looking me in the eyes, says, “You’re fired.”
Before I can think it through or contemplate my actions, my fist flies out and connects with Mary’s nose.
She gives an undignified shriek as she cups her nose. “You cunt! You broke my fucking nose.”
I stare at her before regaining my footing. Today may have been my breaking point. I have never—and I mean never—in my life laid hands on another person. “Oh, bite me, Mary. You’re a fucking bitch and I quit.”
Between hitting Mary, telling her to piss off, and quitting my job, I feel like I’m on top of the world. For the first time I can remember, I stood up for myself.
With what I’m sure is a seriously crazy smile on my face, I turn away from her. I head to the back of the diner where my personal effects are in a locker and change out of my shitty uniform. Taking a deep breath, I realize what I have just done. I stood up for myself but in the process, I’ve quit the only job I have. How am I going to pay rent, buy food, or pay for my damn car repairs? I am so fucked.
Instead of lingering on that, I square my shoulders and walk out to the front. People are crowded around Mary while Storm is smirking from her spot at the front door. Looking back at Mary, I smile. As I walk out of the diner, I give a single finger salute in farewell, light up a smoke, and walk home.
Chapter Two
Wolf
Sitting at the clubhouse, with a bottle of bourbon beside my favorite ratty green chair and a skinny piece of club ass grinding on my junk, I try to will myself to think about anything else besides today’s fuckup. Rock music blasts through the sound system and I let the music flow through me. Staring blankly past her, I try to think about the run we just got back from and how it all went to shit in the blink of an eye.
As the club enforcer, it’s my job to ensure the safety of the club members. The fact that Sparrow is lying on a table in the next room while Doc digs a bullet out of his leg gets on my fucking nerves.
Shit shouldn’t have happened the way it did. But as usual, the mother fucking Mongrels got in our business and turned shit upside down. What was supposed to be a simple drop off for the Mexican cartel got all fucked beyond comprehension.
Arriving at the warehouse twenty minutes before the drop was supposed to go down is our usual protocol. One of the guys would do a perimeter sweep while the rest of us got the cargo ready to be picked up. It should have been a simple run, one we’ve made a dozen times without any issues. But the Mongrels decided it was a good idea to try to rob us in the middle of our transaction. They came barreling in on a beat-up truck, all guns blazing probably without thinking anything through. The cartel got pissed, we got pissed, and bullets had started flying in every damn direction.
Luckily, we are still whole and so are the cartel because we for damn sure don’t need a fucking cartel war on our street. We did kill two of the Mongrels’ lower-ranking members and wounded their enforcer.
What I really want to do is find that fucking vice president of theirs in a dark alley and run a blade across his throat real slow as I watch the life leave his eyes. Viper is a fucking piece of work and enjoys inflicting pain, especially on those who can’t defend themselves. I might be a fucked-up motherfucker but I don’t hurt women and children. Never. That’s where I draw the line.
Viper also likes to brag that he’ll take any bitch he wants with or without her consent, and that shit grates on every last nerve I have. I’m so exhausted by those pussies constantly fucking around in our business that I’m going to call for full-out war the next time we go to church.
Getting up from my chair without caring about the skinny bitch on my lap, I watch as she falls to the floor in a heap. She has long, bottle-blonde hair that looks like it’s lost a fight with a lawnmower. Her dark roots are grown out two inches and it only makes her look cheaper than we all know she is. Her tits are fake and huge and look ridiculous on her skinny ass.
As she sits on the floor, she makes no attempt to close her legs, and with her micro mini pushed up around her waist, there’s no mistaking her pussy on display for all to see. The only thought running through my head is I’d lose my mind if my daughter ever disrespected herself that way.
She huffs from her spot on the ground and stares daggers at me. “What the fuck, Wolf? I thought we were gonna have a good time,” she whines in her high-pitched, nasally voice.
Rolling my eyes, they go so far back in my head I worry they might get stuck. “Jessie, we’ve been over this before. There is no way on God’s green earth that I am ever sticking my dick in your disease-ridden pussy. Damn, woman, I couldn’t even get it up if I tried.”
Starting to walk away, I hear her huff behind me. I know she’s going to say or do something incredibly stupid, so I wait.
“Fuck you, Wolf. You can’t get it up for anyone. Since that skinny bitch figured out she could do better than you and up and left, you’ve been a limp-dick pussy.”
As the last words leave her lips, I circle her scrawny neck with one of my hands, lifting her from the floor and walk her back against the nearest wall. I hold her against the wall with her feet dangling in the air and see the unadulterated fear in her eyes. I lean in and I can almost smell the terror running off her in waves.
I softly whisper in her ear, “Amber didn’t leave me, you dumb cunt. She’s dead, and if you mouth off to me again, you will be too.”
Pulling away, I smile at her, knowing I look like a damn shark because I’m using too much teeth. Slowly, I lower her to the ground. The moment I let go, she scrambles off like a small animal afraid of a carnivore in the woods. Letting loose a loud laugh, I have most of the heads in the club turning my way. I see curiosity in some but from most just amusement. This simply makes me smile even bigger as I give them the finger.
Fuck them. My brothers know me well enough to know I would never hurt a woman. Even though only a select few know me well enough to know what happened to Amber.
She was my high school sweetheart. We met at sixteen and I never have and never will love a woman the way I loved her. At twenty-four, I got Amber knocked up and even though I was terrified, I couldn’t have been happier. Bought a house and started getting all our shit straight.
At twenty-nine weeks, Amber went into premature labor
and due to massive hemorrhaging, she died on the table. Our daughter was born but only survived a couple of hours before she too passed. I got to hold her for a while and though it almost killed me, I never regretted that experience. I’ve had real love and I’ve lost it, and that’s fine by me.
I’m a hard and difficult motherfucker. At one point in my life, I’ve lost everything that meant anything to me. Having loved and lost has made me harder than ever. Now I drink and work and spend time with my club. They are the only things I care about, all I have left. I’ll do anything for my brothers and for my club.
Reaching down next to the chair I was sitting in, I grab my bottle of bourbon and head in the direction of where I last saw Doc and Sparrow. I enter the room and see Doc has Sparrow all wrapped up. They’re smiling while chatting with each other. This only serves to piss me off. I feel like shit for letting my friend, no, my brother, get hurt because I’m incapable of securing his safety, and the two of them are simply shooting the shit.
“What’s the damage, Doc?”
“No damage, Wolf, simply a graze to his calf. Two stitches and he’s all fixed up. Didn’t even have to numb the area.”
Doc smiles at me but my face remains expressionless. I don’t care if it wasn’t serious. It could have been.
“Wolf.” Sparrow stands from his spot at the table he was seated at. He’s a tall man of Hispanic descent, with wavy, dark hair and dark-brown eyes. He still speaks with a Spanish accent and when riled up, you can’t get a word of English out of the man.
“This isn’t your fault, and I’m perfectly fine. You can’t take this all on yourself, brother. Shit happens, you know?”
Usually, Sparrow is one of the only brothers who can calm my ass down, but not tonight. Tonight, I’m riled up and looking for a fight. “No, Sparrow, shit doesn’t happen. People let shit happen to them.”
The Wolf Page 1