by Brook Wilder
Which meant they would be dipping into the club funds, into the club business that had kept us afloat all these years.
Worse, there could be challenges from those rogue clubs, which would put what was left of the council in jeopardy of losing the rest of its members.
If that happened, I was looking at a dead man. Chains wouldn’t go down without a fight and neither would his wife, Widow Maker. The clubs had been their children, and they’d raised them to what they had become.
A source of power.
Most didn’t want that kind of power, that kind of responsibility. More than once I had seen both of them here at night, poring over plans and their next move while attempting to hold their own relationship together and keep the clubs still functioning as separate units.
And then they’d lied about the CIA agent and all hell had broken loose.
My involvement in the original club had been small. After the debacle involving Voodoo, an undercover CIA agent, and Siren, the former road captain for the Bitches, I had tried to stay under the radar. I really thought I was doing something good for the club, bringing those two to the justice I thought everyone would want.
What ended up happening was that Machine Gun forgave the damn CIA agent and my actions started this shit.
I felt responsible for ruining both clubs and I wasn’t gonna lie; more than once I had looked over my shoulder, waiting for the moment that Chains would exact his revenge for what I had done to the Jesters.
Hell, I hadn’t anticipated him bringing me here.
“Two Tone, thanks for coming.”
I watched as Chains stalked in and sat behind his desk, the weight of what he had dealt with over the past few months clearly evident on his face. He looked older, though he wasn’t much older than I was. Drawing in a breath, I rolled my shoulders in anticipation of what he was gonna do to me. “Yeah. What do you need?”
Chains sighed, no trace of anger in his expression.
Huh. “I know you have heard what’s going on.”
I gave a short nod. The pope had heard what was going on around here. “Yeah, about that.”
“I need your help,” Chains interrupted, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “These damn rogue groups are starting in on our weakened defenses. I can’t afford to lose anyone, not until we can beef up our ranks with new recruits.”
This was definitely not how I had pictured this meeting going down. I had thought there would be more blood. “Are you sure you want me?”
He looked up, arching a brow. “Don’t fucking tell me you’ve joined them too.”
“No,” I stated, clearing my throat. “I mean, I did cause this shit.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t cause this. It was coming for a very long time. I just wished it hadn’t happened now. We still have the damn cartel wreaking havoc at the border, terrorizing and stealing the locals, and now they have encroached on Gun Jesus’ shipments to the Jesters. I can’t have this shit going on, you understand?”
Oh, I did. This was a fucking nightmare. “You want me to go after the cartel?”
“No,” Chains said, sitting back in his chair. “I want you to go after Mac.”
I knew Mac. He was well known in the Jesters’ clubhouse for having a large ego and a bigger damn head to match. He had been part of the original group that hadn’t wanted the Bitches to join in the first place, though his vote had been overridden.
Ever since then, Mac had been a thorn in everyone’s side.
Well, except those that now believed the Bitches were responsible for this breakup. “And what happens after I find him?”
Chains was silent for a while, searching for the words before he finally said, “You find him. You kill him. I can’t have him spouting off at the mouth about the Jesters if I want to bring this damn club back together. I need him dead.”
Dead. I shifted in my seat. While I wasn’t opposed to killing the enemy, killing one of our former members was going to be difficult, to say the least.
“Can you do this?” Chains asked softly. “There’s no one else. I can’t send Machine Gun back out there, not now.”
I could agree with that. Machine Gun was still healing from the last time Chains had sent him out on a mission. Could I do this? Could I target one of our own, one who knew the club just as well as I did?
“I also need for you to round up the rest of the rogues,” Chains continued as I pondered the mission. “Get them to rejoin the club, the real club. This shit needs to stop.”
I looked at the Jesters’ president dead on. “And if they refuse?”
Chains stared at me, his eyes growing hard. “Then kill them all.”
I sat back in the chair, a thousand things running through my mind. There was no mistaking what Chains wanted.
Shit was about to get real.
END OF BOOK 6
BOOK 7: The Rough Jesters will return in Outlaw Virtue as Two Tone embarks on his task of taking out the splinter group of the RJMC. But what happens when his neighbor Leigh—the woman whose rescue started the entire chain of events—gets caught in the crossfire once again?
Outlaw Virtue is available for Pre Order now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YL8GCL3
A Word from Brook Wilder
Thank you for reading RUINED MERCY. I hope you liked it as much as I did writing it. The story of the Rough Jesters and the Hell’s Bitches continues in a series of fast paced standalone romances that will take these characters to places that neither you nor they will have expected.
There will be nine total books in this series and the fun is just getting started. So what are you waiting for? Once you ride along with the Rough Jesters, you won’t be able to stop…
Tap the links below to grab the books from Amazon:
SAVAGE ANGEL
BROKEN BEAUTY
CORRUPT HONOR
RUINED MERCY
SINFUL HAVEN
TAINTED DESIRE
OUTLAW VIRTUE
WICKED LEGACY
SHATTERED GRACE
OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER
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WRECKED
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PROTECTOR
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BETRAYED
FORSAKEN
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