Maddox: The Wild Ones (Jokers MC Book 3)

by Jessie Cooke

  Maddox: The Wild Ones

  (Jokers MC Book 3)

  Jessie Cooke

  Redline Publishing

  About this Book

  Edition #1: June 2020

  The Jokers Books are about the Jokers club, its members, and non-members who influence Jokers life.

  Sometimes a story will be about a specific member of the club and other times about a person who is not a patched member, but is connected in some way to the Jokers club life, and who may or may not become patched in a later story.

  It’s all about giving you the Stories of the Jokers which is much more than just its patched members.

  This gives me a lot more scope to write the stories that I want to share with you.

  Ensuring you have the Latest Edition.

  At the top of this page is the edition number for this book. You can check on my website www.jessiecooke.com to see whether you have the latest edition, and if you have an earlier edition of any book or collection, you can contact Amazon support and ask them to send you the latest version.

  Why do I do this?

  So you always have the opportunity to have the best version of any story, whether it has been updated for some late editing changes, or because the story details have changed slightly to clarify content that might be confusing readers.

  I’m always trying to present the best reading experience and if that means updating a book, that’s what I will do.

  I hope you enjoy this book,

  Jessie.

  Contents

  Don’t Miss Out

  Description

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

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  Description

  A man and a woman with no apparent connection go missing from the French Quarter on the same day. The president of the Jokers MC is desperate to find his sister, and one of the Westside Skulls is worried about his missing friend.

  A group of men who rarely ask for any help turn to Brock Maddox, an ex-soldier turned PI, and Maddox will soon find himself embroiled in a mystery where all the clues seem to lead back to a group of dangerous men involved in organized crime.

  For Maddox that might just be any other day in the life...except that something about the missing woman will trigger the nightmares from Maddox's past that he thought he'd lain to rest, and his intense attraction to the daughter of the leader of an organized crime family might just put them all at risk.

  New Orleans, Louisiana is a beautiful city and the French Quarter is full of tradition and mystery.

  Get out that Harley and ride along as Maddox as he investigates the mystery, falls in love, and tries desperately to stay on that narrow path between the right side of the law...and the laws of the swamp, that only the Jokers live by.

  Prologue

  “Shit. Where the hell did she come from?” Giannini was pissed. He’d gotten a call from Frank, one of the “muscle” he’d sent to fuck up the butcher, Louis, who was refusing to pay the protection money that Marco sent them out to collect weekly. Frank had plenty of muscle, but very little brain. He wasn’t just Giannini’s co-worker, he was also his cousin. They were both Marco’s nephews...but even that wouldn’t stop the boss from skinning them alive...or roasting their dead bodies for fucking this up. Frank was in a panic when he called. He swore he thought that Louis was alone, but he’d taken one swing of the bat, heard the bones in Louis’s knees crack, and suddenly this tiny woman jumped on his back out of nowhere, or so he claimed. By the time Giannini got there, Frank, the moronic musclehead, was soaked in sweat from head to toe and pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. Louis was lying in a corner of the room, unconscious and bleeding from every visible orifice, and there was a hot little redhead tied by the wrists with plastic zip, to an old radiator. Frank had stuffed an apron in her mouth, but her blue eyes were so full of fire that Giannini could feel the heat as soon as he walked into the room.

  Frank ran a hand across his balding head, sending a handful of sweat flying through the air and skittering across the floor. “She says she works here...” He paused and Giannini knew that Frank wasn’t telling him the worst of it. He stared at his cousin until the other man finally said, “She says...um, I mean, she might be lying...but she claims she’s...”

  “Spit it out already!” Frank visibly flinched at Giannini’s words.

  “She says she’s...” He hesitated again and Giannini pictured himself grabbing the dumb fuck by the throat and squeezing the life out of him. “She claims to be affiliated with the Jokers.”

  “Motherfucking Jokers.” The Jokers, mainly their president, Blackheart, had been nothing but a thorn in their side for years. Marco actually thought of their president as his “friend.” Giannini had tried to warn his uncle that Blackheart was no friend of theirs...but for whatever stupid reason, Marco actually liked the guy. Maybe it was because Blackheart let them do their business and stayed out of it, as long as it didn’t infringe on his. Marco and his crew were originally from New Jersey, but when the heat between them, the street gangs, and the law got too hot, they’d moved down to Louisiana and started up business there. Their business included selling drugs, running prostitution rings, and of course offering “protection” to local businesses. Most people simply paid their weekly share, but every once in a while, the crew ran up on a stubborn ass like Louis, who refused. When people refused to pay, Marco had one or more of the boys take the Louisville Slugger to them. Then usually...as soon as they got out of the hospital...they were back to paying up, on time. But rule #1, and Frank knew this as well as the rest of them did, was to leave no witnesses behind that might go complain to the cops, or worse yet, the Jokers. Blackheart and Marco had their understanding to stay out of each other’s business, but Blackheart also had a soft spot for his Cajun brethren. So when it came to the Cajun shop owners, what Blackheart didn’t know, didn’t hurt Marco. Most people who had experienced the Louisville Slugger were smart enough to keep their mouths shut about it...but a witness, that might be an altogether different story. Giannini looked back down at the blue-eyed redhead and thought about Marco’s head exploding when he heard about this...that was, if he decided to tell him.

  “I swear, Giannini, she just came out of nowhere. There’s never anyone here this early but him. He runs this place himself and has since that worthless son of his ran off a couple years ago, so I didn’t expect anyone else to be here...” Frank was rambling and Giannini’s head was pounding. He held up a hand and Frank stopped. Their Uncle Marco was a genius with money, but the man was also mad as a fucking hatter. Giannini knew the only resolution to this that would allow him and Frankie to keep breathing was to make the girl disappear. Giannini had never killed a woman; he wasn’t a monster. But judging just from the stubborn set of her jaw as she sat, helplessly tied to the radiator with two very big men staring down at her, he knew that she’d never agree to keeping her mouth shut. He leaned dow
n and pulled the apron out of the girl’s mouth and she spat at him as soon as he did. Since it landed about a foot in front of him, he simply laughed at her. “Tough guy, huh?”

  “Fuck you!” she spat. “You’re so dead, you know that? As soon as the Jokers find out...”

  He got down on one knee so he was eye level with her and said, “They won’t, and you want to know why they won’t?” She continued to glare at him and he said, “Because pretty little dead girls don’t talk.”

  “You can’t kill me,” she said. “Louis knew I was here, he won’t just keep his mouth shut if I disappear off the face of the earth. You’re so screwed. Blackheart is going to feed you to his alligators.”

  Giannini rolled his eyes. He’d heard that was what the Jokers did to their enemies...and as soon as he met Blackheart, he believed it. But he wasn’t letting this little imp believe she scared him. “What the fuck ever,” he said. “That muscled-up motorcycle riding freak is lucky my Uncle Marco likes him, it’s the only reason he’s still breathing. Oh, and there’s also the fact that Blackheart has at least a dozen other girls just like you, hanging around his club to suck his cock. I’ll bet he won’t even miss you.”

  “Ew! You’re disgusting.”

  Giannini cocked an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to tell me you’ve never had that biker’s dick in your mouth?” Giannini had heard Blackheart had mellowed, at least in the sex department in his old age...but for years he had a reputation for doing every woman who walked through the doors of that ramshackle club of his, and Giannini was sure this little hot piece was no different.

  The little woman looked like she might be sick. “You’re a pig. Didn’t that fat fuck over there tell you who I am?”

  Giannini looked at Frank. He looked even sicker than the girl did. He was beginning to get worried again. He got to his feet and said, “Frankie...is there something you forgot to tell me?”

  Frank looked down at the girl and back up at Giannini; swallowing hard, he ruined not only Giannini’s day, but quite possibly their entire organization as he said, “She claims she’s his sister...says her name is Brigette Babineaux.” The redhead was smiling then, not knowing she’d just signed her own death warrant, but the old butcher’s as well.

  1

  One Week Later

  Maddox blinked back the bright rays of the sun as they streamed through the window across from him. He was sitting on a blue couch in a bright, friendly, homey room. At first he didn’t remember where he was but then his eyes landed on the picture on the mantle. It was a picture of him, in his army uniform. Next to him, and smiling as brightly as the sun, was Lizzie, his wife, and she had her arm around Kenny, their nine-year-old boy. He smiled when he looked at the picture...how could he not? That photo was taken right after he came back from Syria, right after he retired from military service, just as they were making plans for the rest of their lives together.

  Suddenly he caught a whiff of perfume. It was the same perfume that Lizzie was wearing the night they met...the smell that had gotten him through all of those long nights he had to spend away from her. Over the years Lizzie had changed her hair, and style of dress, and she’d grown up a lot, so even her personality was slightly different...but she never changed her perfume, because Maddox had begged her not to. That smell would forever remind him of his beautiful wife and the joy she’d brought to his life.

  He heard the sound of laughter coming from through the window and he got up and went over to look outside. He smiled again when he saw them. Lizzie and Kenny were out there, ankle deep in the lush grass, tossing a baseball back and forth. Lizzie was a pretty good catch, but for Kenny’s sake she was juggling the baseball and acting like she was having a hard time. It was slapsticky, like something Laurel and Hardy might have done in an old movie, and every time, Kenny would laugh that deep belly laugh that only nine-year-old little boys possessed. Maddox watched for several minutes before Lizzie’s green eyes finally noticed him. He saw the change in her face when she did, the look she’d given him for over ten years that never failed to turn his insides into a pile of mush. Lizzie didn’t love with just her heart, she loved with her soul, and it showed through like a beacon of light when she looked at him or their son. She waved her hand at him, urging him to come out and play with them. Maddox realized at that moment that there was nothing on earth he wanted more. He left the window and made his way over to the glass door. With his eyes still on his family and the smile still on his face, he tugged at it...but it didn’t open. Maddox was a big, strong man. He checked the lock and seeing it was unlocked, he tugged at it again, but it didn’t budge.

  A tickle of nerves began to stir in his belly, that feeling you get when something is wrong, but you haven’t yet consciously figured out what it was yet. He continued to tug at the door, and that feeling in his stomach grew. The smile was gone now, but worse yet, the image of his beautiful little family was also beginning to fade. The more he tugged at the door, the more they began to look like they were dissolving into the thin air around them. Growing more anxious, Maddox stepped back and used his big, steel-toed boot on the door. The glass shattered, leaving a pattern like a spider’s web in the center of it and fragmenting the rays of sun that shone through it. He couldn’t see his family at all now so with a loud cry of frustration, he pulled his long leg back again and kicked harder. This time the glass went everywhere; he could even feel it stinging his arms and face. Without stopping, however, he barreled through the door, landing on the cement on the other side, only to see that everything was gone. There was no lush grass, no play set that Kenny liked to climb on. There was no tire swing in the tree that he and Lizzie had planted themselves, and worst of all...there was no family...and that was when Maddox woke up.

  He was bathed in a cold sweat, and the room was pitch black. He had no idea once again where he was, only that he wasn’t with his family...only that once again, he was all alone. He sat upright and fumbled around on the bedside table until he found his phone. The light that came on when he touched the screen was so bright in the black of the room that it was almost as blinding as the sun had been in his dream. The date on the phone was August 5, 2019 and it was 6 a.m. It was five years to the day that he’d gotten the phone call that would alter his future forever. That call came from his father-in-law. His family had been visiting them in Florida. Maddox was supposed to be there too, but he’d been too busy starting up his new business and he told them he’d catch up to them later. While he was in California, trying to set up a business, his family was in Florida headed straight into a drunk driver that would take away the last ten years of his life...and effectively kill what was left of it.

  Maddox cursed under his breath. It had been a long time since he’d had that dream...the one where they were so close he could smell Lizzie’s perfume, and he felt like he could reach out and touch his son. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and he suddenly remembered where he was, and he knew why he was having that dream. His friend Maz had called him. Maz was a biker who rode with the Westside Skulls out of Fresno. Maz told him he needed his help. He needed him to go to New Orleans with him and help him find a young woman who was missing. Maddox had been happy to have the work, and excited about visiting New Orleans. He’d met Maz two days before and they started their trip to Louisiana on their bikes. Then the night before, while talking about the case and the missing girl, Maz had finally taken out his phone and shown Maddox a picture of the missing woman. It was that photo that would shatter the walls of protection he’d struggled so hard to build. It was that photo that would bring back all those beautiful memories that now only served to torment him. The woman was younger than Lizzie by maybe ten years...but her hair was the same color red, that natural red that women try for but can never get out of a bottle. Her pale skin was colored with tiny brown freckles sprayed across her nose as if someone had tossed a handful of confetti at her and it had stuck, and those blue eyes...those eyes had been what he’d fallen in love with the first time
he’d seen Lizzie...and there they were, almost exactly the same color as Lizzie’s, staring out at him from Maz’s phone.

  Maz saw the moment that Maddox took it all in and realized she was a ringer for his Lizzie. His friend’s eyes softened and he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t show you this before we left, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come if I did.”

  Maddox didn’t know whether to be angry with Maz, or grateful. Any chance to look at Lizzie when she was alive, Maddox took. But once he’d lost her and Kenny, he’d put all the photos away and locked them up in a storage shed. It hurt too much to look at their faces. It hurt too much to know he was breathing, and his family wasn’t. But now Maz and that photo had brought the memories back to the surface, and although they still hurt as much as they had that first day, there was something comforting about knowing there was a woman out there somewhere that resembled his beautiful Lizzie so much. To Maz, at that moment, he’d said:

  “I’m not sure if I want to punch you, or hug your ugly French ass...but you were right to not show it to me now. I probably wouldn’t have come.” They were in Mississippi, and about one hundred miles from their destination, when they’d checked into the motel the night before. Maz had smiled at him, and with empathy in his voice he’d said: