by Jordan Marie
Jordan Marie
Editors:
Twin Sisters Rockin’ Book Reviews (TSRBR) Promotions
Fran Owen & Carol Fling
Formatting:
Paul Salvette & BB eBooks
Copyright © 2015 Jordan Marie
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s/author’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of 250,000.00 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your respect of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are created from the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner.
Cover:
Designer: Margreet Asselbergs – Rebel Edit Designs
Model: Justin Miller
Photographer: Shauna Kruse – KIP Models and Boudoir
Dollar Photo Club
(Photo used on the back of paperback only)
Trademarks:
Any brands, titles, artists used in this book were mentioned purely for artistic purposes and are either used as a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. None of the herein mentioned products, artists etc., endorse this book whatsoever and the author acknowledges their trademarked status which has been used in this work of fiction.
Author acknowledges trademarked status or owners of various products and further acknowledges that said use is not authorized or endorsed by said owners. While some places in this book might mention actual areas or places, author acknowledges that it was purely for entertainment purposes and not endorsed by owners or has nothing to do with actual place and was mentioned to further reader’s enjoyment only.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It is not to be re-sold or given away to others and doing so is a violation of the copyright.
Warning:
The Content in this book is intended for mature audiences only. 18+ and above.
Contains sexual violence, sexual situations, violence, excessive profanity and death. Reader should please read with that knowledge.
Dedication
So much has happened between the publishing of this book and the last that my head spins. I’ve learned, I’ve loved and I’ve lost. Most of all I have lived. I lived a dream I’ve had my whole life. I’ve learned more about myself and more about the friend and person I want to be.
Sabrina Paige and Cora Brent, there are no words. None that I have. Helen Keller said
Life is either a daring adventure
or nothing.
Thank you girls for encouraging me to continue my adventure.
Jenika Snow and Sam Crescent, I’m so proud to know you women. I’m not sure how it’s possible that you can have as much talent as you have and still be the amazing people that you are. Thank you for sparing time to talk to me and support me. I love you.
Tammie Smith, rarely does someone come in your life that rocks your world with their loyalty and friendship. You are freaking amazing. Without you in my corner, Dancer would never have happened. I love you—BIG.
Jess Peterson, with so much on your plate you still find time to check on ones you care about. No matter where you are in life, may you always have one moment in the day where you realize you make a difference—always.
Tami Czenkus, you and I know so much about darkness. Thank you for helping me to make this story what it needed to be and not cop-out. Thank you most for sharing your heart with me. Without true friends in life, there would be no joy. Thank you for bringing me joy.
Mandie Nolan, few people surprise me, yet you continue to do so every damn day and always in good ways. I love you—always have, always will.
Jen Wildner, I am so proud of you for living your dreams. I’m even more proud that you are my friend. If the world had more of your kind and giving spirit, what an amazing world that would be.
Fran Owens, you were one of the first blogs to be good to a scared PA who didn’t know what she was doing. You were one of the first women to give me support when I wanted to write and you have become a rock. Thank you so much. I love you.
Neringa Paulauskaitė, I don’t think you grasp how much I love and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You are totally freaking AMAZING.
Nicole Violino, thank you for the support, the smiles and laughter, when you probably didn’t even feel like laughing. I have such a deep respect for you. Much FREAKING love.
Angel D., I freaking love the hell out of you. Thank you, doesn’t cover it. Your friendship is so important to me.
Krissy Gentry, I am so proud to call you my friend.
Corry Parnese and Susan Garwood, it amazes that two wonderful women with so much on their plate, still give selflessly to author’s they don’t know. I’m so glad I’ve met you both. Love and respect women—love and respect.
Mindy McCray, have I mentioned that you’re one of my favorite people ever? You give new meaning to the term BADASS BETA. Thank you so much.
Andrea Florkowski your heart is so big. You give when no able, encourage when you’re tired and a friend always. You have my love, my support and my admiration.
Jennifer Mitchell, thank you for spending so much time going over Dancer and helping to make it better. You are a Godsend.
Thank you to the Badass Betas. You made me breathe and believe in my instincts when I found it hard to do so. Melanie Cooper, Tamra Simons, Melony Bruce-Campbell, Erin Osborn, and Christy Armes, much love women. Your feedback was so valuable and I LOVE EACH OF YOU. Here’s hoping you stay around for book 3. I can beg, I’m so okay with that.
Shauna Kruse, thank you for holding my hand as I moved into the land of getting a model for my book cover. I appreciate you so much and I thank you.
AC Bextor, I love your face, have I mentioned?
NB Baker, I loved you from day one and that only grows with each day we add to our friendship. You are an amazing author, but you are a PHENOMENAL friend.
Freya Barker and RB Hilliard, I love you guys. Thank you for all the help and advice.
Mia Sheridan, thank you for being a light. A role model to every author and just an all-around amazing woman with extraordinary talent.
Kurt Gangluff and Leslie Wilder, your friendships are invaluable to me. Thank you, just thank you.
Kaylee Song, Mayra Stratham and Joanna Blake, thank you for your friendship, your sprinting partnership and just for being you.
Kayla McCoy and Dessure’ Hutchins, you give me a smile every day. I love you woman.
Thank you to those in the Indie world who have welcomed me and to the online bloggers who have helped promote my books, have been so warm and giving and donate all their time to every author, we could do next to nothing without your support.
Thank you to my crazy Street Team and Pimping Squad, there are NO WORDS as to how awesome you are.
Finally thank you to these two crazy chicks Glenna Maynard and Dawn Martens, who gave me acceptance and laughter when I was
a freaking mess. I LOVE YOU CRAZY BITCHES.
I promised this Dedication would be smaller, I think I failed. As my PA likes to say, Sorry, not sorry.
See you next book and we’ll see if I succeed there.
Jordan
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Claiming Crusher Excerpt
Etched in Stone Excerpt by Mayra Stratham
Playlist for Savage MC
Acknowledgments
Stalking Links
Saving Dancer
Savage Brothers MC Series
Book 2
Jordan Marie
Prologue
‘The Nightmare’
Dancer
IT’S DARK, PITCH black. I can feel the hands holding me down. The laughter fades into the background as my heart accelerates and beats out of control. The sound drums in my ears and a fine sweat pops out over my body. I slam my head back with all of my might. I choke on the fear and I despise myself for it. The fear makes me feel weak and I have never been weak in my life.
The back of my head connects with some motherfucker and the feeling of blood smears against my bald head. I slam my head again hoping I can kill the son of a bitch.
I scream out as dirty hands try to clamp over my mouth. I twist and turn until I can get just enough of the hand in my mouth to bite down and tear. I do with an angry scream. There’s a moment of disappointment that I can’t manage to tear the finger off with just the force of my teeth.
Still, it’s enough to get room. Some leeway so I can throw an elbow into the son of a bitch’s stomach that has been helping to restrain me. There are four of the motherfuckers holding me, three now that the guy behind me let go. I hope I at least killed him. I will kill them all though. I will. I will tear them apart piece by piece. That is the last clear thought I have before a large silver flash comes at me.
I feel the impact of the pipe against the side of my head and at the same time a sensation of skin tearing down my side. The scent of blood mixes in with the dirty smell of my cell. Stabbed, I’ve been stabbed. Will I die here? Please let me die before they do what they are planning.
“Got something for you, pretty boy,” the voice says as the darkness encloses around me.
It was six words. Six words that would destroy me and start me on my path through hell.
Chapter 1
Dancer
IT’S DARK, BUT not night, that much I know. The heavy, foam-backed curtains are pulled tight over the window and a small sliver of light is allowed to shine where the two panels meet. There is a pounding behind my eyes and a cold sweaty mist covers my body. My head is swimming as I close my eyes against the gut clenching nausea that slams through me.
Waking up like this is nothing new. It’s the normal—my new fucked up normal. The room smells of smoke, cheap whiskey, perfumed whores, and sex. Hell, I’ve stuck my dick in so much loose pussy in the last week the damn thing smells like week old tuna.
I rub my hand over the short stubble on my head. In the week that I’ve been out of the joint, I’ve started letting it grow. I kept it shaved during my stint in jail. There are just too many fucking bugs in that damn hell-hole. I’m not sure if I’ll cut it again. Anything different from what it was in there is automatically better.
I push bodies off of me and move to the edge of the bed. The two chicks in the bed should have left last night. One of them grumbles in complaint, but she rolls her ass over on her girlfriend and goes back out. When I look over at the lily-white ass sticking up in the air my hand automatically goes down to my dick and stretches it. Damn thing doesn’t take the hint though. If anything, it seems to want to crawl inside of my balls and hide. It’s a shame because it’s a damn fine ass, but what the fuck ever. I stand up and the world spins as my body tilts too far to the left. I right myself and walk towards the bathroom, cursing when my bare feet kick one of the empty liquor bottles littering the floor.
Shit, that hurt. I lean over to pick the bottle up and the world tilts again. This time I overestimate my coordination and fall. I maneuver at the last minute and land on my side instead of my motherfucking head. I lay there a minute looking up in the darkness. It hurts to breathe, not really from the fall. Hell, it’s hurt to breathe for so long I can’t remember it being any other way. Why I can’t swallow a bullet and get it over with? I’m tired of fighting it all. So fucking tired…
“Dancer! Open up, man!”
The old hotel door vibrates with the pounding it receives. My head goes down, both hands raking over it again. I don’t want my brothers here. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? I told them to.
“Dancer, open this fucking door or I’m kicking it in!” Crusher yells as he pounds the damn door again. I wince at the pain the noise brings.
I struggle to stand. I may not have had shit to do with my brothers since I got out of the joint, but I know that he’s not going to give up. Before I can fully pick my ass up out of the floor, the door slams open and bounces off the wall with a huge cracking noise. I wince in pain the noise brings and close my eyes against the glaring light that is now in the room.
“Fucking hell! Close the damn-motherfucking-son-of-a-bitching door!” I growl, not bothering to turn around and look at Crusher. It’s better to keep my back against the light.
“Oh god.”
I turn my head against my will when I hear that voice. I know that voice. That voice is imbedded in my brain, my motherfucking black soul. Carolina Grace, the woman who offered me heaven, and brought me hell.
I’m going to rip Crusher’s head off. My eyes lock with the one person in this world that I never expected, nor wanted to lay eyes on again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She jerks back like I just physically hit her. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but I have so much anger stored up, she’d be smart to stay away from me.
“Hi, Jacob,” she whispers into the room and it makes me want to scream and roar at her. I don’t want her here. I don’t want to see her, I don’t want to deal with her and I sure as hell don’t want to hear that sweet voice saying my name. She’s poison; she’s a fucking knife to the gut that repeatedly stabs. She’s the reason my head is all messed up, that my life is all screwed up and most of all she is the reason I want to swallow a fucking bullet.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS ROOM!” I roar pulling myself up and charging towards her.
She gasps and backs up against the hotel door. I’m almost to her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I reach her. I really don’t. I might even strangle the life out of her. I know I will push her out of my room, out of my space, out of my life. I know it. In the end the point is moot though because Crusher jumps in front of me and stops me from reaching her.
We’re pretty evenly matched, but if I had been sober he wouldn’t have stopped me.
As it is, he contains me and looks over his shoulder.
“Red, wait for me by my bike, darlin’.”
“Okay, Alexander,” she whispers and gives me another tortured look.
Her green eyes are filled with tears, but I don’t care. Her and her tears can rot in hell. Her auburn hair shines too bright in the dark room. It’s like a beacon of hope, a memory of a better time, a better life. That pisses me off even more. Wait. Hold up! Alexander? What the hell?
“Are you sinking your dick in that cunt?” I ask in disgust, pushing away from Crusher.
“Jesus H. Christ, Dance! You smell like a damn gutter,” Crusher says. His face is curled in disgust.
The bitches from last night are sitting up in bed looking at me and Crusher and it pisses me off. I told them to be gone by morning. I don’t even know why I keep trying to bury myself in pussy. It’s not working anyway and I sure as fuck don’t want them around after.
“Get dressed and get the hell out,” I growl, walking towards the small bath, intent on taking a shower.
“If you’re going to wait around till I get out, make sure those bitches leave,” I order Crusher.
“Dance man…”
“And you sure as fuck better keep that gash you came with outside.”
I make it to the door before a crash is heard. I turn to look and Crusher has taken one of the empty liquor bottles and smashed the old mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the bed. I look at my brother, his body is rigid with anger and the laid back country ol’ shucks cocky vibe he normally has is gone.
“Dance, I’m warning you, lay off of Red. I know you’re fucked up, but that woman doesn’t deserve your wrath or insults.”
“I’ve rotted in hell for two years because of that woman.”
“Bullshit.”
I want to argue, but truth is I don’t give a fuck. The sooner I shower and talk to his ass the sooner he’ll leave and I can find a new bottle.
“Whatever. Sorry I insulted your Twinkie of the month,” I grumble and slam the door on his curse.
Chapter 2
