Jacob (Exposed Marco's MMA Boys #5)

by S. M. Donaldson

  I’m a motherfucking Hellion. Pussy is thrown at me constantly, but not the pussy I want. When did this happen? Where did the woman I married go? Where is the girl who couldn’t get enough of my cock when we were mere teens?

  When did everything change?

  ~Jenna~

  Take my ass back to Mexico … He has lost his ever-loving mind. He came and got me. Two years, I had to face my father’s hand before Julio and Ruben came back for me. I saved every penny my brother sent, outside of what I needed to spend for food and clothes, so when I made it to America, I wouldn’t burden them further.

  Only, it didn’t work out that way. I ended up in a two-bedroom trailer along with them and six other immigrant workers. As much as the money sent home could last, here in the states, existing is expensive. When one of the guys was looking at me a little too often, Ruben claimed me, and we moved out.

  From the first kiss, I was lost to him. I knew, from the time I was a little girl, Ruben Castillo was the man for me. The moment he realized we were meant to be, my life finally began. From the moment Julio gave his blessing, Ruben hasn’t been able to keep his hands or eyes off me.

  He has this way of making me feel wanted, loved, and protected. One glance and my heart beats faster. My body is drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

  It hasn’t been easy, but we have built a life together.

  After working the fields, Julio got Ruben tied up in some bad business.

  A quick buck is always far from simple and money never comes easy.

  When Julio took the fall to keep Ruben safe and, in turn, my life here, as well, Ruben vowed to be on the straight and narrow. One problem with that is, being in a country illegally is not exactly being on the straight and narrow.

  Pregnant with our first child, living in a trailer with another Mexican family on the back side of a farmer’s field, I was grief-stricken to know my brother was caught. And after serving his time for drug possession with intent to distribute, he was sent back to Mexico with no hope to return. Things were not good.

  A chance meeting on the side of the road with Blaine ‘Roundman’ Reklinger changed our lives forever. Roundman was stuck with a blow out on his bike in the pouring rain. At the time, we didn’t know he had help on the way. We just saw a man in a leather vest on the side of the road, getting soaked. Pulling over, Ruby got out and offered the stranger a ride.

  “You fuckin’ crazy?” Roundman asks Ruben as I crack the car window to our beat up Toyota Tercel to hear them.

  “No. Just see a bike on the road that is obviously immobile and figure you might not want to drown.”

  “Good Samaritan’s are a dying breed.” Roundman extends his hand to Ruby. “Got brothers coming to tow my bike. Thanks for stopping, man.”

  Ruby shakes his hand and nods his head.

  “What’s your name?” Roundman asks as Ruby steps back toward the car.

  Ruby raises an eyebrow at the stranger and walks away.

  That rainy day changed everything.

  Memorizing our license plate as we pulled away, Roundman tracked down the car to the farmer Ruby worked for, which led him to us. Almost ten years later, he’s a fully patched member of the Hellions; we’re legal citizens with education and jobs for us both; and we are so much better than where we came from.

  Julio’s sacrifice paid off. We send money home to him.

  I miss him terribly, but I have this life thanks to Ruby and everything my brother gave up for us. At twenty-eight, I have three beautiful children: Maritza, Mariella, and Ruben Junior. We own our own home. Even if it is a double-wide in a community of what they call modular homes, it’s ours, and I am proud of it. I have a job I enjoy and a man I love.

  Why he’s being an asshole tonight is beyond me. Then again, when was the last time we had sex?

  Since I took over at the mini storage office for Doll, things have been busy. My days were once spent passing the hours by cleaning, cooking, and caring for my man and my babies. Now I just can’t seem to keep up. When my head hits the pillow every night, it’s heaven sent.

  As I think of how I have been neglecting my husband, guilt washes over me. He is my first priority, and I haven’t been the best at taking care of his needs.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I finish making dinner for our family.

  The sound of the door shutting has my chest beating wildly as I continue setting plates on the table for my children. Tears fall when I hear the familiar thunder of his Harley cranking and then revving as he pulls away. Then my mind goes back to the moment we finally came to be.

  “I’m never gonna be without you again,” he whispers as he holds me close, breathing against my hair.

  Safe in his arms with my brother in the living room, I feel like everything that has been so wrong in my life is suddenly so right.

  “Ruby,” I whisper back and lean into him.

  “I hated leaving you. I thought about things, Jenna. You being gone, us worrying about you, it gave me a lot of time to think. You’re mine, Jenna. All this is for you. I know how you’ve been looking at me for years.”

  I gasp in embarrassment.

  “You weren’t ready—hell, you probably aren’t now—but you’ve gotta know, Jenna, I’m not blind. I had to put space between us so I wouldn’t take advantage of your innocence.”

  “Ruby, you know”—I swallow, fighting my nerves—“it’s always been you.”

  “I know.” He turns me to face him.

  My heart beat races as my palms get sweaty. I can’t focus beyond the thundering in my ears.

  His head tilts, his eyes never leaving mine as his lips slowly find my own. Tenderly, he brushes his mouth against mine. I want to moan. I want to explode in pleasure from his simple touch. It feels like I have waited my whole life for this moment.

  I open in a sigh, and he takes my bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. He doesn’t bite, but his hold has me tingling all over. When I open my mouth farther, his teeth release my lip, and his tongue explores my mouth.

  Dancing, claiming, our tongues and teeth collide as the world spins around in my mind. Ruben Castillo, my every fantasy, my one love is kissing me.

  If I died right now, I would die the happiest woman in the world. If this was my very last breath, I would take it completely fulfilled.

  What just happened here? How did we go from not being able to exist without one another to not being able to be in the same house? I know things aren’t perfect, but surely, they aren’t so bad he needs to leave, right?

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.

  Chelsea can be found on social media at:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron

  Twitter: @chelseacamaron

  Email: chelseacamaron@gmail.com

  Blood & Loyalties (Loyalties #1)

  by Ryan Michele

  © Ryan Michele 2015

  Chapter 1

  “YOU STUPID FUCKING bitch!” Antonio seethed like a pussy as he looked up from the filthy-ass floor of the bar, holding his throbbing crotch.

  I laughed, tossing my head back for good measure. Bitch was the worst he could come up with? I had been called worse than that at work when I lost a client’s millions on a bum deal.

  I lifted the pointed heel of my black, stiletto boot and plowed it hard into his windpipe, crushing it as he gasped for breath, his eyes wide with fear. He needed to be taught a lesson about fucking over a Lambardoni. It didn’t come without repercussions, and I wanted to be the one to teach him.

  Unfortunately, I knew my bodyguards had called my brother Val. They always di
d when shit with me happened, and if I didn’t get on with it, Val would ruin all my fun. I was more than capable of handling this weak, pathetic asshole. Val should know that. He and my other brother D had trained me to fight and shoot a target with precision, but something about being “the sister” gave them the right to be overprotective and overbearing, even if I was older than both of them.

  As I removed my foot, one of his hands wrapped around his throat as the other continued to grip his aching crotch. The stupid fucker didn’t know whether to grab his balls or neck, his arms flailing in both directions as he rolled from side to side, trying to ease the pain. He gasped for breath, the look of confusion in his eyes laughable. I did pack one hell of a powerful knee thrust, though. No doubt his balls were shoved so deep inside he could taste them in his mouth.

  Wicked thoughts crept in my head. Using my best weapon of the moment—the hot ass boots my cousin Kiera had insisted I wear for the night—I picked a spot on his rib cage and began kicking it over and over, plowing into him, hoping like hell the blows would crack the fuckers. It was the least he deserved.

  I moved with him at each turn he tried to make, hitting him dead in the same spot. He grunted and attempted to bat my foot away with his hands as he tried to hold himself at the same time. His less than stealthy attempts only made him look like a bigger pansy-assed bitch. It was amazing how much actual joy I felt from watching him struggle.

  He tried to curl up in the fetal position, the dirt from the floor coating his clothes and both sides of his face. He groaned, taking each hit, but it didn’t feel like enough. The fucker didn’t even have the balls to really fight back.

  “Catarina, what the hell happened?” Kiera said loudly at my side, trying to compensate for the music blaring in the distance. She was my cousin, best friend, and pretty much sister in every way that counts. Regardless, my focus stayed on the fucker on the floor as I stepped farther back from his withering body.

  When Kiera and I had decided to come out to the club to let off some steam from a brutal week at work, I hadn’t realized I would be getting a hefty workout like this instead of on the dance floor.

  I stared down at the man I’d thought loved me, who had said I was the one for him. The only one. Stupid. I should have known by now that the only reason men found any interest in me was because of my father and family. Each one seemed to want that pivotal “in” to the business, and for some reason, they thought I could get it for them.

  I knew Antonio wanted to move up in the ranks with his family, but it wasn’t in the cards for him. That right there should have been a huge red flag for me, but I had trusted him when he told me if he couldn’t move up in his own family, he didn’t want to move up at all.

  Lies. All fucking lies. One would think I had learned this lesson after twenty-nine years on this earth, but I kept falling for it: hook, line, and sinker. The word sucker was plastered on my fucking forehead, and the life that I craved so much was completely unobtainable. Not anymore. This would be it. This fucker would be the absolute last.

  Being the daughter of a very powerful man came with a stiff price, the biggest being whom to trust, which I had learned—mostly the hard way—wasn’t many. Family was about the only ones I could, and damn if that didn’t suck ass with finding a love life.

  Even women had proved too scarce in the honesty department. Most wanting to fuck my brothers rather than actually get to know me. That was why Kiera and I had stuck together over the years. It was safer for everyone. No one else understood this life.

  I wasn’t and never had been a weak person. Growing up in the Lambardoni family, it wasn’t an option. Between my father, uncle, brothers, and cousins, both Kiera and I had been taught with an iron fist—a loving iron fist—but still, a strong-gripping fist.

  Glancing down at the floor, I couldn’t believe I had wasted my time on this man. I would have to thank my brother Dominic—D—for teaching me kickboxing. It proved handy, even if my technique was shit at the moment, but it was kind of hard to really show technique when the guy was on the ground.

  The asshole growling under my feet thought he could profess his undying love for me and then go fuck some blonde whore in the bathroom. Mistake. Big mistake.

  When he told me he was going to get drinks then headed in the opposite way of the bar, every flag in my head stood to alert. Val had taught me how to observe one’s surroundings, promising me it would come in handy one day, and that day was definitely one of them.

  Throughout Val’s teachings, my eyes became sharper in viewing my surroundings and noticing key things that were out of place: a car parked somewhere it shouldn’t be or a person walking a bit too closely. I’d see it, and it would keep me on my toes.

  Realizing Antonio turned down the hallway in his quest for drinks, I’d motioned for my full-time guard, Scraper—yes, that was his name—to follow him. He took off, only to report back minutes later that Antonio had a piece of ass in the women’s bathroom.

  The pained expression on Scraper’s face sent me into action. I knew it was pained because of the betrayal to me, and I would be putting Antonio’s ass on a stick.

  I rushed through the crowd with Scraper on my heels, trying to get through the crush of people. I knew Scraper would stay out of the confrontation until or if he needed to intervene. He had been my guard for the past six years, and while at first we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, he’d grown on me over the years. After growing up together, I even liked him, and he knew when to step back and let me take the lead so I could prove myself capable to my family, which was a must.

  I’d caught a glimpse through the crack in the door of that piece of shit, confirming he was in fact balls deep in pussy that wasn’t mine, and then I waited. I was exceptionally patient, one of my many redeeming qualities. As I stood back in the shadows of the darkened, narrow hallway that led to the bathroom, I tried reining in my anger. It would get me nowhere and cause me to make stupid mistakes. Having a clear head was the only way to go. Hurt had already gone out the damn window. There was no need for that or any other emotion.

  Scraper had stayed on the other side as my back-up. He knew the fucker had to pay, exactly as I did. It would actually just be the start of his repercussions. Once my brothers, cousins, and—God help him—father and uncle heard, he would get a hell of a lot worse than what I was about to dish out. It was probably demented, but I was actually happy about that.

  After the blonde whore left, swaying her fake ass down the hallway, Antonio came strutting out like the cat who got his mouse. There had been a wide smile across his face and even a bead of sweat on his brow. Before he could see me, I’d lifted my knee with every ounce of power I could muster in my five-foot-ten body and kneed him in his balls. He hunched over, and I helped him to the floor by kicking his legs out from under him. He plummeted to the ground hard, his shoulder taking the weight of the fall. Stupid fuck.

  “Just handling some trash. Caught him fucking some blonde in the bathroom,” I said to Kiera, whose beautiful face turned glacial in seconds. The smooth skin around her eyes narrowed with lines as she released a heavy breath.

  Kiera lifted the heel of her beautiful, hot pink pumps and smashed them into Antonio’s nose, causing blood to splatter at my feet and across the floor. I had been going for no blood, but shit happened.

  “Dammit, I just got these boots, too.” I pretended to whine, stomping my foot for added emphasis. In actuality, I couldn’t give a shit. I would go buy new ones tomorrow.

  Never in my life had I wanted for anything, but don’t think for a moment that I hadn’t worked for every penny of it. In my family, you learned very early on everything you got, you worked hard for. Your blood, sweat, and tears went into every dollar you spent; hence, why Kiera and I wanted a fun night out, hoping to get a reprieve from life. Life had other ideas, though.

  “We’ll shop tomorrow,” Kiera spat down on Antonio as he started shrieking nasty names at us. Some in Italian, some in English. I ignored
him as I hacked up a wad and spit it down on his worthless body.

  Spitting on someone in my family was the formal yet disgusting sign of a person being dead to you. If someone was trash and unworthy of you, you spit. It was pretty damn gross, but people understood it and normally asked no questions once it was done. If they did, they were more than likely going to get the shit beat out of them again. In Antonio’s case, I hoped he would, just for fun.

  “All right, ladies. It’s done.” Scraper slid up to us and rested his hands on our shoulders, giving a slight, comforting squeeze.

  I wasn’t quite ready to give it up. The tension in my body was still wound tight and needed release, but I looked over to Kiera who nodded in agreement, deflating my plans.

  Kiera was always my voice of reason. It was why we worked so well together. We complimented each other to a T.

  “The boys will be here soon to clean up. Let’s go get you ladies a drink,” Scraper said with another squeeze as we stepped farther back, and I tried to pull out of my tension.

  Antonio tried hard to stand, his feet and knees wobbling underneath him as he groaned in pain with each movement. He was able to partially get up, but he was bent at the waist and kept shifting from one foot to the other, like either one he chose hurt too much to put his full weight on.

  “I’ll fucking kill you for this, bitch!” Antonio snapped at me. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘you just got your ass handed to you, so shut the fuck up.’

  Scraper pulled both Kiera and I behind him then landed a hard punch to Antonio’s jaw. The loud crack echoed through the hall, even over all the boisterous music playing. Antonio’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell onto the floor, his head landing with an audible thud on the tile. His body was unmoving from what I hoped was just being passed out. I didn’t need to explain this man’s death to my father or uncle.

  “Come. Now,” Scraper commanded, looking down at the piece of shit. “Or else a bullet goes through the fucker’s head.”