by Faith Gibson
WAGING WAR
The Hounds of Zeus MC
Book 1
By Faith Gibson
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2019 by Faith Gibson
Published by: Bramblerose Press LLC
Editor: Jagged Rose Wordsmithing
First edition: May 2019
Cover design: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Cover photography: RLS Model Images Photography
Cover model: Tyler Halligan
Back cover photo: Adobe Stock
ISBN: 978-1732864825
Dedication
For Jennifer and Willow Jean
Acknowledgements
This book has been a long time coming. Not just the fact that it’s been so long since I got the last book out, but these characters have been on my radar for a long time, and here they are. I couldn’t have done this without my tribe. Candy, Jennifer, Kendall, Kerstin, and Nikki, thank you for your support, whether it was helping with the book or keeping me sane during the last few months.
Thank you to all the beta readers. With this being a new series, I reached out to a bunch of you, and your feedback was both helpful and appreciated.
My girl Jen, thank you is never enough.
Jay, thanks for putting up with me and giving me another stellar cover.
To the man - Thank you for trying to keep the pup occupied so I could write. I love you.
"Now hear another monstrous sight: Beware:
The sharp-beaked hounds of Zeus that never bark"
~ Aeschylus, "Prometheus Bound", 5th century BC
Table of Contents
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
A Note from the Author
Coming soon
About the Author
Other Works by Faith Gibson
Prologue
THE soles of her feet were bleeding. Slipping on the leaves, she grabbed hold of a tree branch to keep from falling, but she lost her grip. Landing against a sharp rock, she tried to suck in air when pain lanced her ribs and stomach. When no air was to be found, panic set in, but she pushed through it. She couldn’t lie there when she needed to move. Her life depended on it. When she righted herself, she took a shallow breath and set off again.
Not long after she fled, her shoes had been sucked off her feet when she trudged through a mud hole. The pain had long since passed excruciating, and now her body was numb except for the tree branches scraping her face and slapping against her arms as she lurched through the dense brush. The woods were thick, and the rain only added to the darkness. How she wished her brain was numb, too.
Escaping into the forest had been her only option. She should have known someone would be watching. Known she was gone and come after her. The man noticed everything and everyone. He was the wolf in sheep’s clothing she’d heard about in church all her life. Too bad the preacher failed to mention how to get away without the wolf’s sharp teeth digging into your skin, ripping the flesh, and tearing through the marrow.
Now, she was running from the one she was supposed to trust. From one who was supposed to protect her from the sinners of the world. From one who touted God like he was on a first-name basis with Him. She didn’t dare pray. Not if he was on God’s payroll. She’d beg Satan himself for help before she trusted God again.
The barking grew louder, and her body shivered. Not from the rain, but from the thought of what those sharp teeth would do to her. She scrambled toward the sound of running water. When her feet went numb earlier, she’d been grateful, but now it was hindering her progress as she tried stepping on stones on the slimy creek bed. Slipping, she landed on her knees, jarring her wrists when they caught her on the rocks below. Frozen, she tried to get her body to budge. She had to move, or all the pain would be for nothing. It would get worse if she was caught. Her hair plastered to her face, stuck from the blood and tears mixing to form an adhesive the rain couldn’t wash away.
The water rushing downstream hypnotized her. It was too dark to see what lurked beneath. That should have scared her. It didn’t. It was the dog and the men chasing behind her that gripped her heart and lungs and twisted both until she couldn’t breathe. Man, she was tired. So tired. If she let her arms collapse, she could succumb to the rushing water. She wouldn’t have to worry about what he would do to her when she was dragged back to the place that was supposed to be a sanctuary. A haven. What a joke. Her freedom had been stolen. All because of a man. A sob tore through her chest, and in that moment, she saw the faces of her parents. God, her parents. She wouldn’t do that to them.
After what felt like hours, she dragged herself across the shallow depths, digging into the silt beneath the water for leverage. Her fingernails were being torn and her knees cut with each rock she used for leverage. By the time she made it the short distance to the other side, her clothes were soaking wet, which made climbing from the embankment all the more difficult. Her bare feet did little to help, so she had no choice but to claw at the grass embankment until she was out of the water. Pushing her hair off her face with a muddy, bloody hand, she staggered to her feet and stumbled a few steps before she was able to move more steadily. A trail cut through the woods, and she decided moving along the path would be easier even if it gave those chasing her the same advantage.
Pain thrummed through her body, a steady beat clogging her ears. She was walking too slowly, but she couldn’t see far enough ahead to move swiftly. Even if it had been daytime, she couldn’t have moved any faster. She’d heard of adrenaline kicking in at times of dire need. Her situation was pretty damn dire, but her adrenaline had taken a pit stop somewhere along the way. She couldn’t give up, though. She was in this mess because of a damn man, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. Her toe caught on a tree root, and she pitched forward, hitting the ground so hard her jaws clacked together. A growl cut through the darkness, and she scrambled to her feet. Sharp teeth snapped close to her ear. “NO!”
Chapter One
War
ONE week of freedom. As he strode with purpose trying to escape campus before a student
sidelined him, Warryck let his mind wander to the future. He knew it was time to retire from teaching when he thought of spring break as freedom from his everyday life. Freedom from talking day in and day out about things he no longer tried to understand. Midway through college, Warryck had changed his major from criminal justice to psychology. He wanted to know what made people the way they were. Mostly the ones who had no qualms about taking the life of a young pregnant woman. The mind was an ever-changing entity, and no two were the same. No matter how long he’d studied psychology, War still didn’t grasp the intricacies of what made people tick. Or kill.
War and Harlow were in their second year of college when she was kidnapped. When she put up a fight against the men trying to take her, they didn’t hesitate to beat her within an inch of her life. Harlow survived long enough to deliver their baby girl. Warryck lost more than his wife that day. He almost lost his will to live. Warryck couldn’t look at the small child who lived while his precious woman didn’t. Harlow’s aunt and uncle, Vera and Lucius, took the baby into their home and even went so far as to adopt her on the condition he finish his college education. He really didn’t have a choice considering he refused to let his own family raise the child. It was then he changed his direction in studies.
“Professor Lazlo, wait up.” Warryck stopped walking, but he didn’t have to turn to know who had called after him. The young woman had done everything except strip down in his office and offer to blow him. He had done everything except threaten to turn her in to the Dean of Students if she didn’t stop with her failed attempts at getting him alone.
“Miss Perkins.” War sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
“I was hoping we could grab a coffee over spring break and discuss the latest assignment.”
“Miss Perkins—”
“I’ve asked you to call me Ingrid,” she said, running a sharp, fire-engine red nail down his arm.
Warryck took a couple steps back. “Miss Perkins, I’ve tried being subtle, but obviously that doesn’t work for you, so here it is, plain and simple; I won’t grab coffee. I won’t do lunch. I won’t have a conversation regarding anything with you, assignment or otherwise. There are plenty of students who understand the curriculum almost as well as I do who can discuss the assignment with you. I am not interested in you personally. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.” Warryck walked off, leaving Ingrid glaring. It wasn’t a good look on her.
Ingrid Perkins wasn’t the first student to come on to him. Both young women and men had tried to get the attention of the hardass psychology professor, but he wasn’t going there. Warryck heard the whispers about his good looks. He ignored the digs at his less than chipper personality. Every year, it became a game of sorts with the students to see if any of them could break through the concrete walls of Professor Lazlo’s stern exterior.
He wasn’t homophobic by any means, but men didn’t turn his head. Since his wife passed away twenty-four years ago, Warryck had taken women to bed but never for anything more than a one-night stand. He understood the physical need for sex. Hell, he craved it. Never did he meet up with anyone who knew who he was, which meant traveling out of town when the need became too much for something other than his hand.
When the school term ended, Warryck planned on taking a trip to get away from all things academic. He was burned out on teaching and had already turned in his resignation for the end of the school year. In a few months, he would be free from all responsibilities at the university, and he looked forward to packing a few clothes on his Harley and taking off across the country.
Over the years, Warryck had kept in touch with Maveryck. His twin never let him go long without at least calling and talking for a few minutes. He also never stopped encouraging Warryck to join the Hounds of Zeus. All his brothers were members of The Hounds Motorcycle Club. Mav just knew one day War, as his family called him, would get tired of teaching, and he’d been right. Warryck was over the daily grind, but that didn’t mean he was ready to join the MC. He’d had enough rules and regulations to last a while.
Slipping into his hybrid SUV, Warryck drove on autopilot to the house he’d lived in for the last twelve years. Originally, he planned to rent until he was ready to move on, but when he realized he was going to be at the university a while, War finally broke down and bought a small house, considering it an investment. He didn’t need much, just a couple bedrooms and a garage to house his car and Harley. One of those bedrooms he’d turned into an office. Never having company meant he didn’t need the spare bedroom for its original purpose.
He’d just hit the garage door opener attached to his visor when his phone pinged with an incoming message, bringing on a four-year-old sense of déjà vu. War had been coming home for his gear, heading out on his bike for spring break...
War sighed, praying it wasn’t some last-minute crisis from the school. His bag was already packed and bungeed to the back of his bike. The weather had turned from several rainy days to clear and mild. Perfect riding weather. All he had to do was change out of his teaching attire into something suitable for a road trip on two wheels. He could already feel the wind blowing across his skin.
After placing his computer bag on the kitchen island, he fished his cellphone out of his blazer pocket and stared at the screen. An email from his twin wasn’t unusual, but the subject matter was: Lucy. Warryck had kept his distance from his daughter all these years, but his family had taken it upon themselves to watch over the girl. She was family, and eventually, she was going to find out where she came from. Per his wishes, they only told him things about the daughter he abandoned if they were important. Opening the email, he read the message Mav deemed important enough to send. There were only two words along with an attachment. “Vera’s gone.”
“Gone where?” he pondered aloud until he opened the attachment to find an obituary. Both of Lucy’s adoptive parents were dead, leaving the girl alone. It wouldn’t matter that they had left her with an estate on the lake, cars, and a sizable bank account. His baby girl was alone except for the few friends she had at school. “Fuck,” he muttered, raking a large hand down his scruffy face. He hadn’t bothered shaving the last couple days, knowing he was taking off on his bike.
“Fuck,” he said louder, his voice echoing in the small house. If Lucy got hold of Lucius’s safety deposit box, she would find her birth certificate. Not the one stating who her adoptive parents were, but the one indicating her birth parents. Him and Harlow. He didn’t know Lucy, but if she was anything like her mother, she would come looking for answers.
Sending a response to Maveryck’s email, he asked, “Does anyone have eyes on her?”
His phone pinged with an incoming text. You know we do.
Warryck went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, taking it to his bedroom where he shed his khakis and dress shirt. Lucy wasn’t his family’s responsibility. She was his. But how did he explain to her why he left her with Harlow’s family instead of raising her himself? Sure, his heart had been shredded from losing his wife, but a child wouldn’t understand that unless they’d gone through the same kind of loss. She lost Lucius and Vera, but losing a parent wasn’t the same as losing the other half of your heart.
When War returned to the kitchen, he grabbed another beer before sitting down in the recliner in his small living room. His jeans and boots were forgotten as he stretched out in a pair of sweat pants and a Henley. Torn between taking his road trip and staying put in case Lucy came looking for him. Was he ready for that? To face his daughter after all these years? No, he wasn’t. Call him a coward, but he wasn’t ready to admit the truth. With that realization, Warryck downed his beer and continued with his plan to hit the road. After taking a leak and washing his hands, he swapped out his sweats for a worn pair of jeans before sliding his feet into his boots. As he walked out to the garage, War did his best to drown out the voice chastising him for turning his back, once again, on his baby girl.
; Instead of taking the direct route along Highway 7, War selected some backroads leading to Green Mountain in Vermont. It was rare he visited somewhere urban when he wanted to get away from his life, and this time was no different. Opting for an abandoned national park, he could become one with nature while indulging in his natural habitat. Preferring the eagle over the lion, War was more at home in the woods than anywhere, and he’d found a nice, secluded section of the Finger Lakes where he could camp out without anyone finding him.
Spring break only lasted a week, so War planned on spending every minute of those seven days relaxing with no one else around. He’d long ago tired of teaching. If he was honest, he’d never enjoyed it. When he applied for the position, he thought instructing others in the way the human brain worked was better than sitting in an office trying to help humans figure out why their mind was different. Why they were depressed. Why the voices spoke to them. As he guided his Harley along the pavement, the doubts rose up as they always did when thinking he’d made a mistake.
It’s never too late to make a change, War. It was something Maveryck said every time they spoke on the phone. He knew his brother was right, but did he want to sit in an office and listen to strangers talk about their mental health? Did he have it in him to give advice to people who were in pain when he himself was still going through the motions of living?
He didn’t need the money. His plan when he retired from teaching was to get on his bike and go. He didn’t have to work if he didn’t want to, but War knew himself; he would get bored without a purpose. The rest of his family had a purpose. One he should be on board with. One he should be helping them with instead of staying away. Mav accused him of using the MC as an excuse to keep an arm’s length from the family, but it wasn’t an excuse.
Okay, maybe it was.
Growing up, he didn’t have a problem with the club his father oversaw. War had always planned on being part of the group of men who gathered around the large, oak table each week to discuss how to make the world a better place. When they were little, he and Mav stayed up late talking about the bikes they would ride, and they would argue over who would be president. It wasn’t until he met and fell in love with Harlow that his priorities, as well as loyalties, shifted. His mother accused War of allowing Harlow to influence him and convince him to turn his back on the family. He argued that wasn’t the case, but now that he thought about it without the sting of Harlow’s death clouding his judgment, he could see Rory had been right.