by A. J. Macey
“What happened?” Nate immediately questioned his wife who stormed around the front of the truck, her boots pounding loudly against the pavement.
“Three guys tried to force us into their van.” She pulled open the passenger side door to reveal a thin woman with wavy, dirty blonde hair. Her skin was tanned, but I couldn’t get a good look at her face with the way she was slumped in the chair. “Punched Kiera on their way out.” Nate lifted her out of the seat, his burly muscles able to hold her with ease.
“Take her to one of the back rooms.” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “How’d you get away?”
“Kiera took care of most of it. She’s pretty scrappy when she wants to be.” Abby followed us into the bar area, her husband continuing down the hall to one of the extra bedrooms. “There’s something you need to know,” she urged, her grave tone bringing my attention to her. “They were Alloy Kings’ prospects; they knew I was an Aces’ Old Lady.” Building rage thrummed in my veins, my fists clenching at my sides. I ground my teeth thinking through what we should do before I spoke.
“Warn the other Ladies and any hang-arounds to keep an eye out.” Fuck. Stone’s thudding footsteps filled the quiet area as he entered the bar from the back office.
“What’s wrong, Boss?” his deep voice asked quietly. Stone rarely raised his voice-- his near-permanent scowl, broad shoulders, and muscles conveyed more of a threat than his voice ever could.
“Alloy Kings are causing issues.” Abby had pulled back from our huddle to go check on her friend at the first sight of Stone, figuring we would start talking club business. She had been around long enough to know when to give us privacy. When she was far enough away, I continued to explain what happened. “Jacked our latest shipment and tried to take Abby and her friend.”
“She looked a bit scuffed up,” Stone agreed. “What’s the plan?”
I was about to answer when Abby and Nate filed back into the bar with their friend trailing behind them. I couldn’t help myself, my gaze skimmed over her body and face trying to get a better look at her than when she was slumped in the seat of Abby’s truck.
Her dirty blonde hair was knotted on the back of her head and stuck out at weird angles. Her outfit was drab and did nothing for her; I had to keep myself from grimacing at it. She sported a nice tan and her eyes, a dark green-brown, scanned her surroundings warily.
She might be pretty if she wasn’t dressed like my grandmother…
Kiera
“Boss, this is Kiera.” Nate’s booming voice was restrained as we neared the two jacked guys standing near the bar. I recognized them from my file on the Aces Motorcycle Club—MC President Brooks ‘Boss’ Abbott and the MC’s Enforcer Stone ‘Grave’ Ronin. Since I wasn’t supposed to know anything about them, I kept a confused yet curious look on my face. You know the one I’m talking about. The one when you’ve farted in a crowded room and you wonder if anyone is going to call you out on it, so you just look around with that ‘who did it, it wasn’t me’ face.
Thank fuck for my ugly ass outfit. I prayed it would be enough to keep them from looking too much into me. Glancing around, I made mental notes of everything I could see. I had blueprints of the building back home, but I didn’t really know what it looked like.
The flooring was a dark cement, nearly as black as the ceiling tiles in the long rectangular room. The walls were a dark grey and covered in different motorcycle memorabilia. A lacquer topped bar ran almost the length of one of the short walls, only stopping by the open hallway that led to the rest of the building. There was a wall of liquor on glass shelving in front of a giant mirror, the reflective surface only broken up by a black unmarked door.
I tallied the exits: two main doors since I wasn’t sure if the unmarked one was an exit, a large air conditioning system based on the vent grates, and a few windows that could be opened along the front of the room looking out over the parking lot. Several scuffed and chipped wooden tables and chairs were situated around the open space, broken up by leather lounge chairs. I had to keep my face devoid of emotion as to not gag at the amount of blood, spit, and other human fluids I was sure coated the surface of nearly everything in the building.
“You want a drink?” Brooks offered. His voice pulled my attention away from the dark, dingy bar. Waving toward the very boobilicious bartender with permed blonde hair, he took a sip of his drink while the woman shuffled around behind the counter. Her chest bounced with any minute movement as she picked up the half empty bottle and a clean, well, hopefully clean, glass.
A lowball of whiskey appeared in front of me, and I eyeballed the glass a few seconds before I lifted it to my lips. The drink pleasantly burned when I took a small sip, my eyes on the MC’s president as I felt Abby and Nate shuffle a few steps away. Their soft words were muffled as I discreetly took in the sexy man in front of me. Brooks’ golden blond hair, a bit on the long side, was brushed away from his too-pretty-for-his-own-good face. Which is why he probably chose to cover his strong jaw with that rough looking beard, I thought. He wore traditional rider’s attire of jeans, plain t-shirt, and his cut, the skull in the Ace of Spades glaring at me from its position within the Aces’ club name patches. I had to get ahold of the desire that slowly uncurled within my stomach at his muscled body clothed in his tight shirt.
“You got someone you can call?” Brooks’ voice was as smooth as the whiskey I was drinking; the throaty quality warmed my body right along with the alcohol. I nodded softly, thankful Abby had been there when I came to so I could tell her to keep her mouth shut about me and my not-so-typical career choice.
Brooks nodded back at me, his grey-blue eyes darting back toward the bar and his own glass. Stone’s ebony eyes were locked on my face; the steely gaze seemed to take in every movement and nuance. Watching him, I caught the way his body shifted, as if he was readying for a fight. His dark skin stretched tightly over bulging muscles, and only a shadow of black hair dusted his scalp and jaw.
I busied myself with my phone knowing the one person who would, hopefully, put the suspicious man at ease. My top priority was to keep myself from being exposed to one of the few criminal enterprises of Nevada. Against my better judgment, I dialed Garrett’s number.
“Yes?” his harsh voice gritted out. “What do you want?”
I held back my growl and used a ‘normal’ people voice to not draw attention to myself as I explained. My eyes were trained on my glass, refusing to make contact with anyone, even Abby. The amber liquid winked in the soft overhead lighting.
“I need you to grab my on-the-go bag,” I murmured, not faking the embarrassment that flooded my cheeks. I hated being in a position to have to rely on him. Of all the assholes in the world, I mentally grumbled.
“Where are you? Damn it, Kiera.” It was his turn to growl at me, the revving of his Harley loud in the background. “You better not be in the middle of fucking nowhere again.”
“I’m at the bar. With Abby.” His grumbling stopped as he processed what I said. He knew what I was attempting to say without giving myself away. I mean, I am sitting here pretending I didn’t know this was the home base for the main motorcycle gang in the area.
“You’re at the compound?” he stated very slowly, with a brief pause before screams erupted on the other end of the line. I had to yank the phone away from my ear in case he burst an eardrum. His obscenities cracked through the speaker at the volume at which he shouted them. Annoyed with the situation and his assholey behavior, I hung up on him. Fucking bastard. A small smile curled my lip when I imagined Garrett’s face when he realized he was no longer screaming at me, but at a dead line. Ha!
“He’ll be here shortly,” I muttered, taking another sip of the delicious liquor. Brooks and Stone were both eying me with suspicion now, Garrett’s tantrum having caught their attention. They didn’t talk as we waited and, with Abby and Nate stepping over to the other side of the bar to let Nate check over her, I was left to fend for myself. The rumble of Garrett’s bike filled the awkwa
rd silence fifteen minutes later, and his familiar grouchy face zoned in on me as he shoved the door open.
“Warden?” Stone finally spoke, choosing to use Garrett’s road name. Surprise littered his single-worded question. Garrett briefly glanced at the other MC officers, a slight dip of his head in greeting before turning his full, seething attention on me.
“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen. I need to have a discussion with my stepsister,” he bit out, his baritone voice laced with fury. I slipped off the worn wooden stool, looking toward the floor as if I was properly chastised by his words.
Yeah right, fuck this asshole, I thought privately.
I followed closely behind him as we made our way back to the same spare bedroom I had woken up in, taking note that it was the second door on the left-hand side of the dingy carpeted hall. When he shut the door with a slam behind me, Garrett took several steps to close the distance between us, our chests brushing together causing my nipples to peak. Fire burned my veins at the feeling of his taut, tattooed muscles rubbing against me. Pushing the heat down, I focused on what he was saying.
“What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?” Each word was enunciated with deadly precision. I snatched my bag away from his closed fist, his reflexes too slow to pull it away from me. Setting it on the bed, I unzipped the plain black duffle and pulled out another pair of mom jeans and another stupid turtleneck, this one a dark grey instead of black.
I am so ready to be done with this job so I can burn these fucking clothes.
“Abby and I got jumped and she brought me here. Don’t worry though,” I sneered, looking up at the asshole before me. His green eyes sharpened and sparked as I glared at him. “I’ll be out of here after I change. I have to prep for a job tonight.” I shucked the ruined sweater and blood splattered jeans, leaving me in a black bra and matching thong. Garrett’s eyes zeroed in on my body as I dressed quickly, his intense perusal heating my blood. There’s no time for hate fucking, I reminded myself, unfortunately.
Garrett Newlyn came into my life when I was sixteen. Having just turned eighteen years old himself when his mother married Frank, his tattooed, muscled body had caught my attention, but no amount of sexiness could take away the amount of assholey-ness that spewed from his damned, kissable mouth.
“What job?” he demanded. His eyes finally focused on my face as I adjusted the turtleneck, his anger unmollified by my nearly naked body minutes before.
“None of your damned business, Warden,” I mocked his nickname. “I’m going to leave with Abby, you’re going to keep your nose in your own fucking shit, and you’re not going to call attention to me or my jobs to your boy band buddies. Got it?” I jabbed him in the chest with a finger. His lip pulled back in a snarl.
“Fuck you, Kiera. I don’t want you here in the first place, so you’ll get no objections from me when you leave.”
I flashed him a sardonic grin. Good. Weaving around him, I stepped back out into the hall, the weight of my duffle secured on my shoulder.
“What job?” he asked again, following me. I huffed at his annoying, overprotective persistence.
“Don’t worry about it.” I rolled my eyes before stepping back into the bar area. “I’m ready, Abby.” I tried to make my voice sound polite, friendly, and overall like a normal person. All of which I wasn’t. At all. Garrett’s hand clamped down on my shoulder keeping me from stepping forward.
“Don’t do this job, Kiera,” he urged quietly, but not quietly enough for Brooks or Stone to be blissfully ignorant. Damn him, this isn’t keeping his nose to himself.
“It’s only some volunteer work at the law office.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. My words filled with innocence hoping to direct any attention away from me. I kept my eyes away from the other MC members and glared at Garrett. “Don’t worry, it’s only for tomorrow.” He gritted his teeth and let go of my shoulder. Taking the opening, I shuffled quickly to Abby and out into the hot desert sun.
CLICK HERE to get your copy of Rival (The Aces book 1) today!
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Also by A.J. Macey
Best Wishes Series
Smoke and Wishes
Smoke and Survival
Smoke and Mistletoe
Smoke and Betrayal
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FSID Agents Series
Whisper of Spirits
Whisper of Pasts
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High School Clowns & Coffee Grounds Series
Lads & Lattes
Misters & Mochas
Chaps & Cappuccinos
Fellas & Frappes
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The Aces Series
Rival
Adversary
Enemy
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The Auckland Kings Crime Family
Liam
Hunter
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Vega City Vigilantes Series
Masked by Vengeance
Cloaked in Conspiracy
Revealed through Redemption
* * *
Besties & Booze Shared Universe
Faked
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Not Your Basic Witch Series with Jarica James
Witch, Please
Resting Witch Face
Witches Be Crazy
Born to be Witchy
* * *
Criminal Underground Book Collection with Lucy Smoke
Sweet Possession
Scarlett Thief
Sinister Engagement
* * *
Trials of a Salem Witch with M.J. Marstens
Hexed, Vexed, and Undersexed
* * *
Current Anthologies
Alien’s Embrace
Into the Dark
Call of Magic
Acknowledgments
My husband Jake, my best friend Jare, and my amazing mom who support me and cheer me on even when I doubted myself!
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My PA Manda for keeping me motivated and on task!
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My content/developmental editors—you guys are amazing!
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To M.J. and Suki who put up with me even when I’m annoying!
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To my friends on the Tabletop Time discord for keeping me positive even when deadlines were stressful as hell!
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Finally, for all of my readers, this wouldn’t be possible without you.
About the Author
A.J. Macey has a B.S. in Criminology and Criminal Justice, and previous coursework in Forensic Science, Behavioral Psychology, and Cybersecurity. Before becoming an author, A.J. worked as a Correctional Officer in a jail where she met her husband. She has a daughter and two cats named Thor and Loki, an addiction to coffee and swearing. Sucks at adulting and talking to people, so she’ll frequently be lost in a book or running away with her imagination.
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