BOOK 7 IN THE VENGEANCE MC SERIES
Jump…
Also by Natasha Thomas
Vengeance MC series Call Me…Vengeance Fury
Jonas
Gage
Cash
Knight
Devil’s Spawn MC series Burnt
Floating
Saviour
Captive
Broken
Forged
Legacy
Forever After Novella series Mine ~ Yours ~ Claimed
JUMP
A VengeanceMC Novel
NatashaThomas
This book is a work of fiction and is written to be taken as such. Characters, names, road names, motorcycle clubs, places, businesses, towns, events, and incidents are a product of the author’s own thoughts, and imagination. As such, any resemblance to persons living, or dead, actual events, or incidents, the past, present, or future, is purely coincidental and is not in any way intended to offend, upset, or disturb person/s reading its content.
copyright ©2016 by Natasha Thomas 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 permission of the author or publisher constitutes unlawful piracy, and theft of the authors intellectual property. Prior written permission is required to use any part of this book (other than for review purposes), and can be obtained by contacting the author:
[email protected]
printing in the United States of America First Edition: November, 2016 www.natashathomasauthor.com
For Angie…
Youmightnotrealizethis,butsomethingyousaidin oneofyouremails struck a chordwith me.Andeven
thoughthesubject mattercoveredinthisbookis vastly different,Ican’thelpbut feel that if it wasn’t for that conversationandyou,therewouldbenoJump.So forthat,andsomuchmore,Iameternallygrateful. xxx
Acknowledgements
Okay, so usually this section is long and boring, and most of you have already turned the page before You’ve finished reading the first paragraph. Truthfully, on occasion, I’m guilty of doing it too. So with that said, I thought I would try something a little different.
Everyone deserves to feel special every once and a while, so I decided to knight all of my biggest supporters with titles of their very own.
Sven – King Nothing; because sadly, you get a whole lot of that from me when I’m busy writing.
S ~Ashleigh – Queen Get-It-Done; because when I’m in a bind…you guessed it…you always get it done.
Jamie – Duchess Devotion; because simply put; I have never met a woman so selflessly devoted to helping people just because she can. xxx
Linda – Lady Love; because you haven’t met a character of mine yet that you haven’t fallen in love with. Even if it is only a little.
Angie – Princess Perfection; because your attention to detail continues to amaze me with each new book.
Micha – Court Jester; okay, so this isn’t a title exactly, but if the shoe fits…
Liberty – Empress Inspiration; because I can always count on you to motivate me when I feel like killing all of my characters and writing ‘the end.’
Now, don’t go thinking I’ve forgotten you just because your name didn’t make it onto the list. The sad reality is, I’m all out of royal titles other than a lowly prince, and a countess, which always reminds me of the Countess in the middle ages who bathed in the blood of innocents, so that one’s out.
On a more serious note, though. I appreciate everyone who had a hand in helping me publish, Jump. It was an extremely difficult book to write, and it took longer than expected, but I think the results speak for themselves and I couldn’t be happier with how his story played out.
And in closing, to my loyal readers that have been eagerly anticipating this release, I hope you enjoy Jump as much as I did. He didn’t start off on the best footing, but the road to redemption was never meant to be easy, or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know; I haven’t made it to the end yet.
PROLOGUE ~ Patrick‘Jump’Collins ~
“Apparently,womendon’t likebeing referred to as toilets.All Isaid was,calm thefuck down,evena toilet canonly handle one asshole ata time.And in mydefense,she deserved it.”
–Jump’s observationfortheday So, I see it’s my turn to tell my story now. But before I start, let me make a few things perfectly clear to those of you reading this.
First of all, I’m not doing this by choice. My idea of a good time isn’t spending hours of my life that I’ll never get back, answering questions no one has the right to ask, let alone this uptight bitch.
The fact that my President approved it is the only reason I’m sitting here now. I respect the hell out of, Boss, and appreciate everything he’s done over the years for me and my brother, which is why I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself when he first brought the interview up. Not to mention, I owe Boss a debt I didn’t think I’d ever be able to repay. He’s pulled me out of the gutter twice; one of those times he actually saved my life, although I’ve never told him as much.
I never told anyone how close I’d come to using the last of my stash – the one I’d hidden for when the day came that I couldn’t stand the sight of my own reflection anymore. The thing is, that day had come and gone a million times over. And every day that I considered taking my life, finally stopping the endless cycle of self-loathing and pain that wracked my body every time I was without a hit for a few hours, I hated myself even more.
It’s pathetic to admit, but I believed snorting lines until my nostrils burned and bled, popping enough E’s to stop my heart, or poisoning my body with whatever I could get my hands was my way out of the vicious cycle I’d gotten myself into. Truthfully, at the time, I saw it as my only way out.
Sweet, hazy bliss, the feeling of floating and then nothingness would take over as my world went quiet for an hour or two. The euphoria never lasted long enough, before the vicious cycle began all over again, though. It was a chemically induced loop of unbearable pain followed by ecstasy, shrouded in the anxiety of when the high would wear off. It was brutally beautiful, and it was killing me.
“Can you tell me when you first decided to join the Vengeance Motorcycle Club?” The pain in my ass and Boss’ latest attempt at torturing me asks with feigned civility.
It’s easy to see this woman couldn’t give the first fuck about manners if it stands in the way of her getting her story. And that right there, is exactly why we’ve been at a stalemate for the last half hour.
Shauna’s been staring at me, asking polite questions as a way of working up to the juicy stuff, while I’ve been doing everything in my power to stay in my seat and not lose my shit at her for wasting my fucking time.
As far as I’m concerned, my life and what happened in my past is my fucking business. I’m only here because I agreed to it under extreme duress. Seriously, though; when a six-foot-five beast of a man has you in a choke hold, cutting off your oxygen intake after a few well-placed hits to your kidney’s that will see you pissing blood for a week, you’d agree to pretty much anything too.
Boss and I were sparring on Friday – one of the three days a week we both set aside to regularly smack each other around – when he called in one of the many markers he’s wracked over the years. I figured it would be an easy job like babysitting his twins or taking an extra shift at the garage, but fuck me was I wrong.
“Need you to do me a favor, brother,”
the giant dick who just landed a solid hit to my ribs states gruffly.
Grunting at him, I straighten up and deliver a kick to Boss’ thigh, sending him stumbling into the pads.
“Sure. You know you don’t need to ask me that shit, just tell me when and where.” The cocky grin that spreads across his face isn’t comforting, in fact, it’s downright fucking terrifying. Boss is up to something, and I’ve unknowingly played right into his hand.
“I hoped you’d say that,” he grimaces when my elbow connects with his jaw. Not missing a step, Boss lunges forward on his left foot and hooks his arm around my neck. “You’ll need to be at Knight’s gym at eight tomorrow morning. Zara will be there to let you in.
“And?” I rasp, trying and failing to suck in a deep breath. “Shauna Rose, the staff journalist for Xtreme, will be meeting you there to do an interview about your work at Pipes,” Boss shares, not caring in the least that I’m about to pass out from oxygen deprivation.
“Not on your fucking life,” I manage to say, kicking out at his knee in an attempt to get him to loosen his hold.
Chuckling darkly, Boss eases up and says,
“I could be a dick and remind you that you owe me, but that goes without saying.”
“What, that you’re a dick or that I owe you?” I snap back. “Both,” he grins. “But that’s not why I want you to do this, Jump. You’ve come a long way in the last twelve months; you’re clean, you’re in recovery, and you’re not half the asshole you used to be. Your designs are better than ever, especially in the last nine months. They’ve attracted some serious clientele, Jump. The kind of clients that don’t blink at spending sixty grand on a bike because it’s been designed from the ground up by you.”
It’s true that Pipes has seen a lot more business of late, specifically custom bike builds, but I doubt that’s my doing. I’m just the guy behind the drawing board. I take into account the specifications of the buyer, do the math to see if what they want is possible or not, and then design and engineer a set of build documents they’ll with any luck sign off on.
Any fuckwit with a piece of paper, pencil, and half a brain could do what I do. It’s a few calculations and some lines on paper for Christ’s sake, no big deal.
As if he can read where my thoughts have gone, Boss shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’ll say it again because it’s pretty evident by the scowl on your face that you haven’t listened to a fucking thing I’ve said in the last nine months. You’re fucking talented, brother. Pipes wouldn’t have a two-year waiting list for custom designs if it weren’t for you. Just yesterday, Phoenix had to break it to a billionaire venture capitalist that had flown in from San Francisco, for the express purpose of discussing a build with us, that we aren’t taking on anymore new clients right now. That kind of shit wouldn’t happen if you weren’t the best there is, brother.”
Well, that’s news to me, but then, I’ve been a preoccupied with other things, one of which isn’t Pipe scheduling issues.
“Look, I’m glad Pipes is making bank because I happen to like money, but credit where credit’s due, Boss. The guys working out in the garage are the ones putting in all the hard work; I’m just giving them a guide to go off.”
“If that’s what you really think, then you’re a fucking idiot, but I’m not going to stand here covering old ground with you all day. I’ve got better things to do, like my wife, so let me make this crystal fucking clear for you,” Boss growls impatiently.
“You are going to be at Knight’s at eight in the morning tomorrow, and you’re going to play nice with the other kids while you answer all of the pretty lady’s questions. I’ve given her a list of shit that’s off-limits, so if there’s a problem with the direction the interview is going in, remind her I said she follows the rules or she’s walking away empty handed.”
“So what, this is publicity for Pipes then?” I ask, wanting to confirm what I already suspect.
“Yeah,” he says with a slight nod. “But not only that, it’s exposure for you too.” Confused as fuck, I narrow my eyes at my President who I mistakenly thought was also my friend.
“I don’t need or want exposure. I like my life exactly as it is; quiet and hassle free since that’s about all I can handle right now.”
As soon as the last words slips from my lips, Boss goes on to dangle the only carrot that will guarantee I’ll go along with this ridiculous fucking idea of his.
“You and I both know that’s bullshit. You’re doing a fucking good job of hiding your indifference to your place in the club from everyone else, including your brothers, but Sarge and I have known where your head is at for a while now. There’s a big difference in the man we knew a year ago and the one standing in front of me now, and that’s not just because you’re clean. I’m not saying it won’t be a blow to the club if you go ahead with your decision, assuming you’ve made one already, but the boys will understand. If I had to hazard a guess, they’ll try and convince you to say, but stay your course, and they’ll come around eventually. The truth of the matter is, not many men are cut out to live this life for life. I’ve had my suspicions for a while that you weren’t going to be with us for long, but you needed to come to that realization for yourself. I know why you’re here and I know why you stayed. The belief that you’re indebted to, Cash or any of us is bullshit.”
“That’s got nothing the fuck to do with it,” I snarl defensively, having heard enough. “The hell it doesn’t,” Boss fires back. “Yeah, your brother looked out for you when you were kids, that was his job as your older brother would. And yeah, Cash did shit to keep you both fed and safe that he shouldn’t have had to, but he chose that path, not you. Then there was his choice to make the move to Furnace. To my knowledge, Cash didn’t consult you about what you wanted, which means that’s on him too. Your life’s been a series of events that you’ve had little or no control over, Jump, so I get why you’d want to make a clean break and start again. That way, you’ll be the master of your own destiny, versus sitting back and letting someone else decide your fate.”
Just as I open my mouth to say something, Boss states, “When I offered to help you get clean and make sure you stayed that way, it didn’t come with strings, brother. Obviously, I didn’t make myself clear last year, but you don’t owe any of us a fucking goddamn thing. For years you’ve had our backs and made sure we made it home safe to our wives and kids. That alone is worth more to us than any perceived debt you think you may owe.”
Boss walks over and stands in front of me, gripping my shoulder tightly. The intensity of his eyes boring into mine makes me want to look away, but I won’t. I don’t back down for anyone, not even him.
“You might not be cut out for this life, Jump, but you’ll always be my brother.
I promise you, this interview will open doors for you, give you the opportunity to branch out and make a name for yourself separate to the MC. This is the chance you didn’t know you’d been waiting for, Jump. Ultimately whether you decide to stay or go is up to you, but I want your word you’ll do this interview and, at least, consider the opportunities that come your way after it goes to print.”
CHAPTERONE
~ Jump ~
“My senseof humorisn’t appreciatedinmy own time.TodayIbought3 boxes of condoms, and whenthe cashier asked me if Iwanted a bag,Isaid,no,she’s notthatugly.Let’s just say,that didn’t go over well.”
–WhyJumpwasbannedfromWalgreens
Shauna clears her throat and repeats the question. “Patrick, I asked when did you decide to join the MC?”
“I didn’t,” I admit without thinking, more than ready to be done with this interview already. And while I couldn’t care less if she doesn’t get her story and goes home to wherever the fuck she came from empty handed, Boss’ words echo in my head, prickling at my conscience.
I committed to giving this interview, and now I’m acting like a dick to a woman, who while annoying as fuck doesn’t deserve my anger.
Shauna ignores my shitty attitude, looking at me curiously instead, before scribbling something down on the legal pad resting on her lap. As she’s busy writing away, I take in her appearance, and
not for the first time, note how out of place this chick is.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back in some kind of a complicated twist at the back of her neck, making her look older than she is. The amount of makeup Shauna’s caked on her face with is better suited to someone who’s trolling nightclubs for a hookup. And that’s without taking into account her wardrobe choice for today’s interview.
If you’re trying to give off an air of professionalism and garner the respect of your target, wearing a skirt that’s short enough to give said target a glimpse of your panties every time you shift in your seat isn’t the way to do it. Neither is pairing it with a suit jacket with no shirt underneath. As great as Shauna’s tits are, I could live without seeing them impersonate Houdini as they try to escape her lacey bra.
I’ll give Shauna this; she’s fucking hot. Her body is long, lithe, and her tits are more than a handful, just how I like them. Shauna’s pretty enough, even though she’s not my type, but her ass more than makes up for what she lacks everywhere else. It’s just a shame she comes across as dumb as a box of hammers, and her voice is so obnoxious, or I’d consider fucking her a time or two before kicking her out of bed.
“I’m not sure I understand your answer, Patrick,” her whines nasally, effectively putting an end to any fantasies I had of fucking her into next week.
There’s one thing that will turn me off faster than imagining my brother naked, and that’s a chick with a high pitched nasal voice that she thinks is sexy. I much prefer a soft-spoken woman. One whose innocence is obvious, but not used as a weapon to attract men. A woman with voices like the one I’m trying to forget.
Shaking my head in disgust, I don’t answer Shauna’s question. Instead, I ask one of my own.
“You’ve been calling Boss for months to set this up, offering to work around his schedule, no matter how long you’ve got to wait. So the real question here is, why are you so hell bent on doing this story? What is it you really want to know?”
Jump: Book 7 in the Vengeance MC series Page 1