by Brook Wilder
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Corrupt Honor copyright @ 2019 by Brook Wilder and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. This is an Advanced Review Copy, and no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
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BOOKS IN THE ROUGH JESTERS MC SERIES
PREQUEL: WIDOW MAKER
BOOK 1: SAVAGE ANGEL
BOOK 2: BROKEN BEAUTY
BOOK 3: CORRUPT HONOR
BOOK 4: RUINED MERCY
BOOK 5: SINFUL HAVEN
BOOK 6: TAINTED DESIRE
BOOK 7: OUTLAW VIRTUE
BOOK 8: WICKED LEGACY
BOOK 9: SHATTERED GRACE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CORRUPT HONOR
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
CORRUPT HONOR
Chapter 1
Alisha
I stepped out into the dry Texas air, soaking in the familiar heat that curled under the big sky. After spending four months in the wild winters of the northeast, I hated to admit the fact that I was happy with respite the heat offered. After nearly eighteen years, I had traded in my cowboy boots and hot Texan summers for a Northface jacket and the crisp autumn air of Virginia.
Virginia was a nice state, but there was something about coming back home that always took some of the weight off my shoulders.
Unfortunately, today was the exception. I hadn’t returned to visit with my parents; I came home on business, business I wasn’t thrilled to be involved with in the first place.
Shutting the car door, I took in my parent’s little slice of paradise, smiling when I saw the tire swing swaying in the hot breeze. I knew every inch of this farm, every hiding nook and tree. Some of my happiest moments had taken place on the other side of the faded barn, where my dad’s old mule hung out. Why he kept the damn thing was beyond me, but the animal had been a great listener when I needed an ear. All he wanted in return was a carrot or two.
The white clapboard house was the perfect backdrop for the Texas sunset, the wraparound porch dotted with lounging chairs and wind chimes my mother favored. I drew in a breath. It was good to be home, even under the circumstances.
I walked up the steps to the front door, turning the knob and opening it. A blast of cold air greeted me as I stepped inside, shutting the door immediately to keep the cold in. “Mom? Dad?”
“Alisha! We are in the kitchen.”
The floor squeaked under my feet as I made my way through the living room and into the kitchen, where I found my mom and dad at the kitchen sink.
“Oh honey!” my mom said, shaking off her wet hands before she threw them around my neck. “I am so happy to see you! Look, Gene! It’s Alisha!”
“I can see her with my own eyes, Paula,” my dad said with a wink. “Good to see you, kid.”
I grinned, but my mom pulled back, touching my face.
“You look thin and pale. Doesn’t she look thin, Gene?”
I pulled her hands away. “I have to stay fit, Mom.”
She frowned, giving me a once over. “Fit and thin are two different things, Alisha. Come, sit! We were just fixing spaghetti.”
I loved mom’s spaghetti.
Mom led me over to the kitchen table, worn from many years of family dinners. “Here. I need to make sure your dad isn’t burning the sauce.”
“I’m right here, Paula,” my dad announced as mom joined him at the stove.
I sat back, watching the two interact. My parents were the conventional, blue collar working folks who had gotten married straight out of high school and settled down. My dad worked for an oil drilling company while my mom was an administrative assistant at a local elementary school. My childhood had been idyllic.
Of course, I hadn’t been as idyllic.
“So,” my mom was saying as she dumped the noodles in the pot. “You didn’t tell me on the phone why you are here, Alisha. I know you didn’t come all this way for my spaghetti.”
“The spaghetti is always a good reason to come home,” I offered, leaning against the table. “But you’re right. I’m not just here for the food.”
My dad looked back, arching a brow. “It’s a job, isn’t it?”
I nodded. When the file landed on my desk back in Virginia, I had almost said no. I was too close to the area, likely too close to the people involved.
But I had read the damn thing anyway and put my hat in the ring the next morning. My boss, Jim, questioned my involvement in this case, but in the end, he had sent me home, to Castillo.
“I’ve been sent to look into the Los Aztecas and Rough Jesters issues.”
My mom nearly dropped the spoon in her hand, her eyes wide. “No.”
I knew the reason behind her reaction, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was my job. As an ATF agent, I was responsible for investigating violations of federal laws relating to firearms, drugs, and alcohol.
And there seemed to be a ton of that going on in my hometown.
“But isn’t that some kind of conflict of interest?” my mom continued, handing the spoon to my dad so he could stir her special spaghetti sauce. “I mean, you used to be part of them. Surely they wouldn’t let you investigate them.”
“Let me guess. They figure who better than someone who used to know them?” my dad interrupted, replacing the lid on the pot.
“I know, but it’s the Jesters,” my mom said softly.
I knew how she felt. I had the same feelings on the plane ride down. I wasn’t concerned about stepping in the middle of a turf war.
It was because I knew the people involved in the turf war. I knew how they operated. I had been part of the Rough Jesters once, long ago. “I will be fine, Mom. I’m different now.”
She looked away, likely so I couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
It made me feel bad. “Mom.”
She waved a hand at me. “I don’t… let’s talk about something else, alright? Are you seeing anyone, honey?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I’m not. My work doesn’t allow for me to have much of a social life.”
“Well, I am sure you will do great, kid,” my dad said, hefting the pot off the stove. “Get the strainer, Paula. These noodles are done.”
My mom hurried to do his bidding and I sighed inwardly. I’d known she wouldn’t take it well, but I had a job to do.
It just sucked it involved a group of people who had once been my family.
***
Two hours later, I pulled up to the ad hoc ATF office in Castillo, and shut off t
he engine. My belly was full of spaghetti, but my head was full of my mom’s warnings about being back home. Was I making a mistake taking on this assignment? I wanted to help. I really did.
But I would be putting myself into the very thick of things I ran away from nine years ago. I had been driven to make a change back then, and after four years of completing my degree in criminal justice along with an internship, I was right where I wanted to be. I loved the thrill of the hunt, the investigation that could drag out for months. I was the first one to volunteer for surveillance, though I had stayed well away from any undercover work so far.
I wasn’t great at being someone I wasn’t, and I wasn’t going to pretend here either. Just because I was back in my home turf didn’t mean I’d act any differently than I would on any other assignment. I couldn’t. That would show a sign of weakness and I had worked too damn hard to get the recognition of my peers.
Pushing open the car door, I stepped out and walked up to the mobile ATF office, the small building blazing with lights. We did some of our best work when the sun went down, catching the amateurs who still thought it was best to move their illegal cargo in the middle of the night.
One of the many, many reasons I did not have a boyfriend or even a social life.
The door opened the moment I walked up the stairs and I met the grinning face of my partner, Jon.
“It’s about time you got here. Bring me some food?”
I held up the container. “I did.”
“Good woman,” he said, holding the door open. “Come on in. It’s just like home.”
I handed him the container of leftovers as I passed through the door, seeing he was right. It was just like home. A set of cubicles with a coffee station in the middle and mounds of paperwork on the desks. Between the ringing phones and stale air, I didn’t see anything different from any other field office in the other states we’d been sent to in the past.
“Agent Poole, good to see you. I’m the agent in command at this shindig. Welcome home.”
I turned to see Garrett Anderson, the lead ATF commander in Castillo standing behind me, his hand out.
“Agent Anderson, a pleasure,” I answered, shaking his hand.
“Garrett, please,” he smiled. “You come highly recommended. I hope you can help us down here.”
“I aim to try,” I said. “I take it you have the files for me?”
“Over here,” he motioned, his boots ringing on the concrete floor as he walked over to one of the cubicles. “I made a space for you and your partner. We are a rowdy bunch but every man and woman in this office are good people. They will help you with whatever you need.”
I flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”
“Tight quarters,” Jon said as he dumped his food onto the desk.
I didn’t answer, looking at the small desk with two folding chairs, wishing we had a separate space. Jon and I had been partners since Virginia; he probably knew me better than I knew myself. We had spent many a night in surveillance or bailing each other out of a tight spot. Never once had he complained about having a woman for a partner and for that, I loved him.
But lately he’d been dropping hints about us becoming more than just partners. Don’t get me wrong, Jon was a handsome guy, with wavy brown hair and flashing blue eyes as crystal clear as a summer sky. His body was toned from hours of training and left a trail of broken hearts in every field office outside of our own.
I just didn’t want to get involved with my partner. I really didn’t want to get involved with anyone. My job was my boyfriend. The very few times I had tried to have an adult relationship had failed due to the long, grueling hours I worked.
There was only one man who had ever captured my heart and I was likely to come face to face with him at some point during this investigation.
“Earth to Alisha.”
I shook out of my thoughts, seeing the concerned look on Jon’s face. “Sorry. I was thinking about the case.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why did we take this shit anyway? I know it brings you home, but I would have thought you wanted to stay far away from this sort of thing.”
I drew in a breath as the sharp pain shot through my soul. Even after all this time, it had never dulled, a constant reminder of what I had lost and the aftermath of that loss. “My sister, she was killed by the Aztecas.”
“You had a sister?” Jon echoed, surprised. “You never mentioned a sister.”
“Janie was older than me,” I forced out, keeping the emotions at bay. “She was back from her first semester in college, on summer break, and was kidnapped by a group of Aztecas. It was supposed to me.”
“You?” he asked softly. “Shit, Alisha why would they want you?”
I pursed my lips. “I used to run with the Jesters a long time ago.”
His eyes widened, irritation in their depths. I could read Jon just as well as he could read me.
“You should have told me this,” he finally said. “I never would have let you take this assignment.”
His words irritated me. “It wasn’t your choice.” I snapped. “It was mine. I will be fine, I swear.”
He ran a hand through his hair roughly. “But can you arrest the people you once ran with, Alisha? Are you going to be unbiased in this assignment? It will be my ass on the line too, you know.”
“I know,” I bit out, turning away from his probing glare. “I promise you. I am fine. I need to do this.”
“Coffee,” he muttered after a moment. “We both need coffee.”
I watched as Jon exited the cubicle before falling into one of the chairs, the trip down here starting to take a toll on my body. I could do this. We all had pasts; pasts that seemed to never let go of us no matter how much we wanted them to. I had that with my sister’s death, with my time in the Jesters.
With Seth.
I knew our paths would cross eventually, and last I heard, he had made his way up in the ranks of the Jesters, becoming one of the council members. It meant Seth was in the middle of the mess that had become a war. Just the thought of seeing him made me nervous, even though it’d been eight years since the last time I laid eyes on that green-eyed devil. Our last encounter hadn’t gone so well, and I didn’t imagine our reunion would either.
I was on the other side of the tracks now, the enemy. Not his lover, not his friend, but the feds the Jesters would do anything to keep off their backs. I knew it better than most. It was likely I would arrest people who had taught me everything I knew, people who were my friends at one time. I would be forced to prosecute former allies of mine, deep down knowing they were good people.
That was what had kept me up at night since I took this assignment.
“Here.”
I looked up to find Jon thrusting a coffee cup at me, his stony expression making me nervous. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, taking the cup. “You are my partner and I should have told you straight up.”
Jon dropped into the chair next to me, our knees brushing each other. I wished I could feel something for him, but even an incidental touch didn’t send a thrill through me as imagined it did for Jon.
I still didn’t want this conflict between us.
“You’re right,” he said with a heavy sigh. “But it’s fine. I know you probably had your reasons, but let’s be honest with each other from now on, alright? I want to help you get your closure, Alisha. I want to help you get your sister’s killer.”
His words were heavy, and I had to look away so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. That’s all I wanted.
I wanted her killer to pay for what he took away from me, away from my family.
And I would take down anyone who stood in my way.
Chapter 2
Seth
I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets and tried not to look suspicious.
Hell, as if a six-foot-four man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt could look any more suspicious. Normally I did this type of business behind the closed doors of the Rough Je
sters’ clubhouse, but our president, Rex ‘Chains’ Harper, had decided it was better for me to conduct this meeting outside of our clubhouse, on neutral ground.
I bet he didn’t expect me to do it fifty feet from the very people we were trying to avoid.
I chuckled, the very thing that had earned me my nickname, Chuckler. I was the vice president of the Rough Jesters, one of the main clubs in Castillo, Texas. The other MC, the Hell’s Bitches—once bitter enemies, were now our allies—led by Rex’s wife, Kristina. For the last year we had been fighting the Pacifica Cartel together, specifically their American sub-branch, the Los Aztecas. Frankly, we were all bone tired of doing so.
Both sides had sustained heavy losses, though we had a slight advantage over the Aztecas currently, especially after the death of their previous leader, Cesar Gutierrez.