Deny
By Jade Chandler
In the third installment of Jade Chandler’s down-and-dirty Jericho Brotherhood motorcycle club series, two hard cases deny the beyond-carnal bond that forms between them...until it’s almost too late
When we f*ck I forget my name, but I never planned to love her.
I never thought I’d make her my old lady.
From our very first scene, we’ve been fighting for control. She’s the one woman who can bring me to my knees, make me beg. Make me feel.
Now I need to give it all up to save her.
Fury is my weapon when I confront the enemies bold enough to lay hands on my gorgeous Marr. Raw rage is what’s fueling my fight against the ones who want to end everything the Brotherhood stands for.
We’re on the brink of war and I will burn this club to the ground before I let them hurt my woman again.
Book three of the Jericho Brotherhood series. Don’t miss Enough and Release, available now!
This book is approximately 80,000 words
Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Lauren Plude
One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise! Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise.
Dear Reader,
I was supposed to write this letter in August. I procrastinated it to September. Because I didn’t want to think about December—holidays, shopping, baking, cleaning, shopping, shopping, cold and snow. I don’t know about you, but just thinking of the business of the holidays makes my chest a little tight with anxiety. And you’re probably reading this right in the middle of all those busy times! So it’s a good thing we have a few escapist reads for you this month, to help give you a respite from some of the stress of the season and take you away on a mental vacation!
Jade A. Waters brings all the sexiness in her debut erotic romance, The Assignment, first in her Lessons in Control trilogy. After freeing herself from a troubled past, independent Maya Clery explores her wildest sexual fantasies with playful, dominant Dean Sova in a dynamic that challenges her inhibitions—leading her down an intoxicating path of passion, pleasure and true emotional freedom.
Wattpad author and Harlequin’s 2015 So You Think You Can Write winner, Lauren D.M. Smith, returns to Carina Press with her next fantasy romance. In Enveloping Shadows, monsters, thieves and demons might stand between Terrwyn and the princess she’s sworn her loyalty to, but it’s the mysterious Zel who could be the most dangerous. Make sure you check out The Emperor’s Arrow, the book that won the SYTYCW contest and started Lauren’s publishing journey, available now!
We have two—yes, two!—exciting releases from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Dane this month. In the Cascadia Wolves series, we follow the Warden siblings as they find their mates. Fall in love with Layla and Sid in Reluctant Mate, and then meet Lex and Nina in Pack Enforcer. Watch for more Cascadia Wolves books in the coming months!
Adrian is an Alpha, a genetically and computer enhanced assassin who has spent years plotting revenge. The only woman he wants is the daughter of his greatest enemy. With war looming and people’s lives on the line, does he trust Charity, does he f**k her or does he kill her? Alpha’s Revenge by N.J. Walters is a futuristic erotic romance sure to heat up your holidays (and beyond)! Other titles in the Project Alpha trilogy, Embracing Silence and Assassin’s Awakening, are now available for your holiday shopping checkout-line reading!
If you love the darker side of romance, Devil’s Slave, an American Monsters erotic male/male thriller romance, is going to send your socks up in flames, not just knock them off. To save his niece and help stop a human trafficking ring, former detective Hugh Kincaid offers a rich, dark and scorching-hot dominant everything he has—himself. Dark, dirty and more than a little forbidden, this love affair from debut author Lola Hale has all the hallmarks of what readers loved about Captive Prince, but in a contemporary setting.
In the third installment of Jade Chandler’s down-and-dirty Jericho Brotherhood motorcycle club series, two hard cases deny the beyond-carnal bond that forms between them...until it’s almost too late. Deny: A Dark, Erotic Motorcycle Club Romance is sure to get all motors revving! Read the other two scorching romances in this series, Enough and Release, now available!
Don’t forget Shannon Stacey’s Holiday with a Twist holiday novella, which released last month, and we also have a full backlist of holiday titles, if you’re in the mood for some romance with a holiday flair. Visit CarinaPress.com and find reads like All She Wants for Christmas by Jaci Burton, Lone Star by Josh Lanyon, Believe by Lauren Dane, A Christmas Reunion by Susanna Fraser, Breath on Embers by Anne Calhoun and dozens more!
Whatever your celebration, wherever you are, this season the Carina Press team once again thanks you for your continued love, enthusiasm and support of our books and authors. We hope you’re surrounded by all the things you love this holiday season, and we wish you, as always, a month of reading books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Jade Chandler
About the Author
Prologue
Jericho, Age 14
“You fucking cunt, I told you when you showed up pregnant we were done,” the Old Man screamed in the living room.
Blitzed out of his brain, I feared he’d kill Mom and I couldn’t save her. He had me in weight and height. Escape was my only option.
The sound of hand connecting to flesh was unmistakable. She’d have a huge bruise tomorrow.
“You want a dick, go get Renegade’s. Or any other motherfucker’s dick, but mine.” Smack. Something fell before she crashed into the floor.
A baseball bat caught my eye. Maybe I could stop him. I was tall for my age, but no matter how much I ate or lifted weights, I didn’t gain a single pound.
A sob was Mom’s response, and I opened my window to escape into the night.
“Eric, not a knife, you’ll kill me.” Her shrill voice sounded terrified.
I brought my foot back in the window, grabbed the bat, before I walked out into our thrift-store living room. Mom tried to pretend e
verything was great by cramming doilies, knickknacks and pictures everywhere, but it made us look like the trash we were. Hairs stood on the back of my neck when I saw the Old Man.
“So the mongrel got brave again.” He swayed on his feet, holding the kitchen chef’s knife. “You forget that broken arm? Hard to hold a bat after I sever that hand from your scrawny body. Can’t be mine, I’d never have a string bean from my seed.”
Nothing new there—the taunts and insults he threw my way should be background noise by now, but they managed to piss me off every time. I almost hated my mother, MJ, for her role in making my life a living hell. All of his hate, well, the worst of it, came from the fact I might not be his blood, and MJ’s betrayal meant I was worth less than nothing to him.
He turned and spit on Mom. “Can’t even disown the fucker, you made sure of that. You and Renegade.” The knife arched through the air.
I whipped the bat into his wrist, and the knife clattered on the floor. She grabbed it, scurrying back against the wall. She held one arm braced against her body but the knife stayed steady in her other hand.
“Fuck, that smarts.” He slowly turned. “Think you can take me? Best put me down or I’ll kill you, bastard. What I should’ve done when that bitch came home with you, a freak with mismatched eyes.”
Each word pummeled me, no matter how often he cursed me, I never got used to the hate he spewed. The Old Man had hated me all my life, and if Mom stuck up for me, he’d beat her.
With a fast lunge, his fist struck my jaw. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I’d taken enough hits over the years. Instinct kicked in and I swung the wooden bat straight into his ribs. A satisfying crack echoed in the silence. Hate drove me forward.
He grunted and stepped back, faltering. I pushed the end into his growing gut. Vomit flew from his mouth, splattering me, but I didn’t care because vengeance fueled me. Adrenaline spiked, I liked being the predator.
I cracked the bat against his arm then swung for his knee, missed, but nailed his thigh. He hit the floor. With deliberate aim, I shoved the bat into his stomach again and again. He tried to sit up and I knocked him across the shoulders and it bounced up into his cheek. He fell back, barely conscious. Satisfaction coursed through me. I’d done it—showed him I wasn’t a weakling. No, I wasn’t prey.
“Come on, finish it. I see what you want in those eyes.” He coughed.
I cocked the bat ready to smash in his head, but Mom threw her body over his. “Nooo, Isaac, don’t kill him. We need to think of the club.”
Something broke inside me. Why had I come to protect her? I spit blood out on the floor and inhaled, calming myself.
Eye swelling shut, lip bleeding and arm likely broken, the woman lay over him as if I was the bad guy. The bitch wanted the power more than to be free of him. She was as twisted as he was—both of them too power hungry to give up a bit of the control. They deserved each other. I was jumping off the hamster wheel.
“I’m moving to the club, and you two, leave me out of your shit.” While this house meant misery, the club meant loyalty, belonging, and no one could take that from me—not even my parents. Although the Old Man would in a minute if he could have, but he knew if he raised that question then it toppled his empire. A man who couldn’t control his old lady could never control a club.
Dropping the bat, I retreated to my room, changed clothes and threw my shit into a trash bag. I gave one final look to my tiny room. Nothing to miss here. Grabbing the bag, I slammed the door behind me.
“Isaac, no, we’ll work this—”
“I’m done here.” Eyeing the bat with streaks of red, I picked it up before I walked out of the house.
I headed toward the lights in the clubhouse. When I reached the beat-up door, I stopped and collected myself then I swung it open and strode inside, daring anyone to question my right to be here. I wasn’t a prospect yet, but one day I’d run this club, and all the brothers would bow to my wishes. Not that I’d run it for my own good, not the way the Old Man did. I’d make it the family it should be.
Five brothers sat at a table playing poker. Renegade was one of them. He nodded. “Isn’t the garbage outside?”
“Yup.” I kept walking down the hall. I knew the last room on the right was open, so I headed that way. Dropping the bag, I opened the door to my new home.
“What’s the plan?” Renegade stood behind me. He picked up the bat I’d left in the hall. “Is he alive?”
I hated that he was alive. “MJ wants him that way.”
“Isaac.”
“Call me Jericho.” I eyed him. We both knew the score. My only worth was my status as heir apparent, and I wanted to remind everyone of not only who I was, but who I would be.
“Jericho, you want to play poker with us?”
“Got no money.” A problem I’d have to deal with soon.
“I’ll front you $500, you lose it, you owe me time in my studio. You keep what you make above that.”
“No male on male.” I held out my hand, agreeing to work in his porn studio if I lost his money. A great incentive not to lose.
He grasped it and gave me the Brotherhood handshake. Pulling out his wallet, he peeled off five Franklins from a huge stack of bills.
He dropped it on the dresser like I was a bitch. Yeah, both potential sperm donors were the coldest motherfuckers I’d ever met, so it was only natural I was too. MJ had been too damn clever when she’d fucked both of them right before she turned up pregnant. Then Ren had waited until after I was born, the apple of my Old Man’s eye, before he told him what MJ had done. The rest was history, mostly a repeat of tonight, and MJ took it so she could rule by the Old Man’s side.
I grabbed the money and walked out to the clubroom, hoping this gamble paid off.
Chapter One
Jericho
I kicked my feet up on the table, sitting in his spot in the Council chambers on his fucking throne in the clubhouse. The Old Man sat down close to me, the stench of resignation coated him.
For years, I’d planned and plotted to reach this day. Today I kicked my father out of the club he’d built. I’d won the game, now time to rub it in his wrinkled face.
“Old Man.” I propped my arms behind my head.
“Bastard,” he spat.
His words no longer held power over me. “So you agree to my terms. My package persuaded you and MJ.”
The Old Man barked a harsh cough of a laugh. “Nah, your ma wants me in jail so she can be your mother queen or some shit, but I persuaded her I’d be sad alone.”
I arched my brow. “Good. You leave Friday, no negotiation.”
“I should’ve drowned you like the unwanted runt you were.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to get rid of me with the most dangerous assignments, but it hadn’t worked. I made sure of that. “You didn’t and that was obviously your first mistake.” I taunted him, enjoying his defeat.
He glanced away. “She been here?”
“One look at me and she just walked back out.”
“Why?” The Old Man let his silver hair drop in front of his face.
“You’re bad for the club, too much meth, too many whores, too little profit.” All of that was more than reason enough to oust him as president and send him packing, but my bitter heart shouted for vengeance. Vengeance for Layla. The day she died I swore I’d take away what he cared about—this club. Without anyone being able to call foul, I’d forced the Old Man from the club. He was a coward, so I knew he’d go easy, but I would have ratted him out to the cops. That’s how much I hated him and we both knew the score. He’d fucked me over too many times in my life to count, now his drug addiction threatened the club—my true family. I thought this moment would taste sweeter, but bitterness still ate at me.
“A club call? I was sure it was the wh
ole family shit.” He sneered at me.
“That’s just a sweet fucking bonus.” I stood up. “I won’t see you again before you leave.”
I walked out without a second glance for the man who might be my father.
* * *
Dare and I leaned against the back of the clubhouse, arms crossed as the bright spring sun beat down on us. MJ sped down the drive, flipping me the bird as she went by. The Old Man didn’t glance my way when he rode out, pulling a small trailer behind him.
“You did it, brother. Cut the cancer out of our core.” Dare slapped my shoulder.
The excitement, the vindication, the fucking satisfaction remained MIA. I chalked it up to the cold nothingness that made me up. What a hollow victory.
“Long time coming. You and Bear made it happen as much as me. Appreciate that shit.” No way I’d ever put to words how much I counted on or cared about them.
“We’re partying tonight.” Dare pushed off the wall.
“Nah, go home to your—”
“Fuck that. Did I make that sound like an option? You, me, Bear.” He started toward his bike. “Don’t make me come looking for your ass.”
“I’ll be here.” I turned and strode in the clubhouse’s back door, needing to rid it of the Old Man’s stench. I opened a beer and pulled down the first photo to throw away. I stuffed in pictures of naked women, photos of his victories, cheesy biker shit that MJ added, and kept going. I worked nonstop until the clubroom was empty of the debris of the Old Man’s reign. Grabbing another beer, I stood at the bar and took in my work. This place was stark and streamlined, maybe too much so, but it was now mine. I liked the mismatched scarred tables, the huge bar, and the way this place shouted home to me. Maybe Dare’s old lady could get a quality Harley flag and a few things for the walls, but it’d never be a trashed-up memorial to my ego the way it had been to the Old Man’s. In fact, the only thing I’d left on the wall was the huge flag with the Brotherhood reaper on it—the same as the ink over my heart and the patch on my cut.
Throwing the trash in the Dumpster, I headed to his inner sanctum—the Council chambers. Walking inside made me remember the day I became a brother, standing down below the Council, only fucking sixteen years old and a full member. Dogg, Renegade, the Old Man, Romeo, and Stork sat at the table then. I’d been so proud to get my cut even if the Old Man was the one to put in on my shoulders. That was when I’d been optimistic, young, and sure the shit between me and my family was over. That wasn’t true and I’d been stupid to think so. A mistake that cost Layla her life and ultimately the Old Man his throne.
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