Jase (Kings of Korruption MC Book 3)

by Geri Glenn

  “Almost there,” he says, squeezing my hand and smiling. I love his smile. I’ve spent a little time around the Kings, and one thing I’ve noticed is that these guys don’t do a whole lot of smiling. Jase smiles all the time, and it’s blinding.

  Up ahead is a small gathering of people, standing on the sidewalk out in front of one of the old buildings. “Are we protesting something,” I tease.

  He laughs. “No. Charlie had some other advice, other than restaurants.”

  “Sounds like I need to start dating Charlie.”

  “I don’t share, but I’m always in favor of a little girl-on-girl action if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I roll my eyes. “So what did Charlie suggest?”

  “Well, she didn’t actually suggest it, but she did kinda give me the idea.” We come up and stand behind the group and stop. “She told me that you love the show Ghost Adventures. I figured that if you like the show so much, it might be fun to try out the Haunted Walk of Ottawa.”

  My eyes widen. “Really? I’ve always wanted to do this!” I jump up, wrapping my arms around his neck and give him a tight squeeze. He hugs me back just as tight.

  “Good to hear,” he says, setting me back on my feet. “Just remember that when you need someone to hold onto whenever you get scared.”

  “Pfft,” I scoff. “I don’t scare easily. Besides, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nope. I watch that show for an entirely different reason.”

  “Oh yeah?” he drawls. “What’s that?”

  “Zak Bagans.”

  “Who the fuck is Zak Bagans?”

  “He’s the host of Ghost Adventures, and he’s one of the hottest men alive.”

  A woman in her early twenties who’s standing behind Jase, leans around him and smiles at me. “Damn right,” she says. “I’ve been in love with that man since the very first episode.”

  I return her smile before I look back to Jase. His eyes move from me to my new friend, and back again before he finally shakes his head. “Zak sounds like a pussy,” he declares.

  The other woman and I both throw our heads back and laugh, exchanging memories of our favorite episodes of Ghost Adventures. While we talk, Jase quietly takes my hand and listens to the two of us, a smile playing across his lips.

  Once the tour starts, we follow along behind everyone, listening to our tour guide tell the different paranormal stories behind some of the larger buildings in the area. Our guide is a young, college-aged guy who can tell a hell of a ghost story, appearing to creep Jase out.

  When we reach the final building, Jase is gripping my hand tightly. I’ve heard horror stories about this place in particular. It’s creepy and dark, and the air is significantly colder inside. Serving as a maximum security prison for almost one hundred years, these stone walls contain memories only found in nightmares.

  The guide outlines the story for us as we move down the thin, dark corridors. Many areas don’t even have windows to allow outside light, and I can’t imagine the terror of having to live within these walls when it was an active prison.

  He tells us stories of death row inmates and prisoners in solitary confinement, stripped naked and chained to the cold stones inside the cells. Each story makes my heart race, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched. Jase seems swept up in the stories too, looking into the cells and commenting on things between the guides’ stories.

  At one point, the guide opens a large iron door that leads into total blackness, telling us to follow him. He holds his small lantern up in front, and people join a chain as we stumble through the dark narrow hallway, gripping tightly to the back of the person in front of us. Jase is behind me, his hands tight on my shoulders.

  “You really like this shit?” he whispers.

  “I love it. Best date ever.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters as he shuffles along behind me.

  I giggle softly and listen as we approach the gallows of the prison. The guide indicates the large, closed, iron trap doors, and above them hang three nooses. He explains that these very same steps that we stand on are the final steps that over three hundred people had used on their way to be executed.

  In the middle of his speech, a large bang rings through the gallows, and several of us scream. The middle noose in the row of three is slowly swinging above a now open trap door.

  “That’s it,” Jase declares. “I’m outta here.” He grabs my hand and starts towards the tour guide, dragging me along behind him. I follow willingly, trying not to laugh. “Is this tour almost over?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir. This is the final stop. We will be heading to the courtyard now.”

  “Good,” Jase mumbles and I lose it. Laughter bubbles up and I try my best to keep it quiet. “Laugh it up, lady,” he says. “That shit is just not natural, and you’re one very sick woman if this is the type of stuff you’re into.”

  I laugh all the way outside, and all the way to his bike. Every time I think of his face when he declared that he was done, I laugh even more, and this goes on, all the way back to my house.

  Just outside my door, I’m still grinning when Jase laughs. “You’re an evil woman, you know that?” Before I can answer, his mouth is on mine, and suddenly I can’t even remember what we were talking about.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jase

  I turn the wrench one last time and step back to admire my handiwork. This chopper is even more amazing than the last one, and I couldn’t be prouder. I just wish that Gunner could have seen the finished product. He’d have liked this one.

  With one final glance, I move to the sink and start washing up, getting as much grease as possible out of the calluses on my hands. I need to look good tonight, and that means I can’t be looking like a goddamn grease monkey.

  I haven’t laid eyes on Ellen since our date last Saturday night. We’ve both been busy with work, and she’s had her son to take care of. We’ve talked on the phone though, every night before she goes to bed. Hearing her sleep laced voice right before I head to bed myself, helps me sleep soundly, but I can only imagine what it would be like to hear that voice next to me every night.

  This weekend, I’m hoping to get that chance. Bryce is going to his father’s for the first time, for the whole weekend. I know that Ellen is worried, and that she’ll be freaking out, but I have nothing but time to help take her mind off that.

  “Holy fuck, Jase.”

  Ryker’s voice startles the shit out of me, and I curse myself for going on that damn haunted walk the other night. I’ve been a jumpy mess ever since, and if I don’t calm down soon, I’ll have to start shopping in the ladies’ department.

  I turn and watch as Ryker rounds the chopper, his hand gliding along the chrome reverently. “This is incredible, man. Each one gets better and better.”

  “Thanks,’ I reply, wondering what the hell he’s still doing here. Usually on Fridays, he heads home shortly after lunch.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.” He looks around at the littered garage floor, taking in the piles of tools organized in milk crates, and the shelves I’d built with scrap wood. My work space is small and cramped, but I do what I can with what I have.

  “Now that we’ve given over our weed business, we’re gonna have to find some new, cleaner ways to make some serious profit for this club. We do all right with our strip clubs and night clubs, and of course our garage, but I want more.” He waves his hand around the room. “This isn’t good enough for you, man. You need more.”

  I shrug. “It’ll do for now.”

  “But you can’t do shit here. Listen, there’s a garage for sale just outside the city, about a twenty-minute drive from here. It’s been empty for a couple years now, and they’re desperate to sell. I put in an offer, and today they accepted it.”

  I frown. “An offer… for the garage? Why?”

  “It’s all yours, buddy. Build it up and make it successful. Hire some
mechanics and body guys. Sell custom choppers for thousands of dollars. I know Gunner was skeptical, but I have plenty of faith in you.”

  I stare at him, my eyes wide. “This is crazy! Are you sure? Do you think we can make this work?”

  “I think you can,” he replies. He turns and walks towards the door. “Anyways, I’ll take you by it on Monday, but for now, I’m outta here. Charlie’s got the weekend off, told me she has some good news.”

  I can’t believe he’s being so casual about this. The man just told me he’s gonna make my dream come true, like some kind of messy-haired, tattooed Santa Claus, and now he’s off to screw his woman like it’s no big deal.

  “Ryk,” I call, just as he’s about to step out of sight.

  He takes a step back and looks my way. Taking my fist, I hold it over my heart. “Never forget it, brother.”

  Several seconds go by before he finally moves, placing his own fist over his heart. He gives me a nod, then he’s gone. I look around this pitiful excuse for a garage. Over a month ago, I was pissed that the world didn’t seem to want to give me a chance, and now look at me. When the hell did my luck change?

  Ellen

  My heart’s lodged firmly in my throat as I help Bryce pack a bag to take to his father’s house. He’s running around, talking a mile a minute about all the fun things they have planned for this weekend, totally oblivious to the fact that I’m in the midst of having a nervous breakdown.

  “Did you get your toothbrush?”

  Bryce rolls his eyes, as he seems to be doing more and more lately. “Yes, Mom. For the third time, I got my toothbrush.”

  The doorbell rings and Bryce tears off down the hall, yanking the door open. “Dad! I’m just about ready,” he says excitedly, throwing his arms around his father’s waist.

  Paul pats Bryce’s head and glares at me from the front step. “Why don’t you go grab your stuff,” he tells Bryce, never taking his eyes off me.

  Bryce passes me in a hurry, almost knocking me over in his rush to get to his bedroom. “They certainly didn’t waste any time dipping into my bank account,” Paul calls to me.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Pardon?”

  “That money you wanted so bad,” he sneers. “The courts have already taken almost half my goddamn paycheck to start paying you.”

  “I never asked for you for anything, Paul, and certainly not for your money. You took me to court, remember? This is not my fault.”

  “Oh fuck you, Ellen. You’ve been giving me a hard time since day one. At least now, I can see my fucking kid without having to get a signed permission slip to take him out of your piece of shit house.” He takes a step forward, pointing an angry finger in my direction. “I should find a way to make it hard on you now. What do you think of that?”

  “What’s going on?” I hear from behind me. I spin around, plastering a phony smile on my face.

  “Nothing, baby. Just grown-up stuff. You have everything?”

  His frown deepens and he looks past me to his father, nodding his head slowly. I can tell by the look on his face that he heard some of what was said, but I can’t be sure of how much.

  “Let’s go!” Paul shouts from the front door. “I don’t have all day, Bryce. Get a move on.”

  Bryce jumps into motion, throwing on his shoes and grabbing his coat from the hook in the closet. “Ready,” he calls, and before I know it, he’s out the door. I didn’t even get a chance to give him a kiss.

  I watch through the window as Paul storms to his truck, jumping into the driver’s side. Bryce follows along behind him, jumping up as high as he can to reach the handle on the lifted truck. Finally, he gets the door open, throws his bag inside and climbs in. They peel out of the driveway, then they’re gone.

  I lean against the wall and suddenly everything hits me at once. The court case, Paul’s newfound visitation rights, the way Paul talks to me, and Bryce’s behaviour… everything. I feel like I’m drowning, and there’s nothing I can do to make it go away.

  My chest heaves and my throat hurts as I try to keep my crying as calm as possible, when all I really want to do is throw myself on the floor and scream. I hate this all so much, and it feels like it’s never going to end. Paul is never going to go away, and he’ll never stop being an asshole. Bryce already has a lot of his father’s attitude, and now that they’ll be spending more time together, that gives Paul even more time to brainwash my son into hating me.

  I sit like that for twenty minutes, my knees pulled up to my chest as I let myself have the cry I needed so desperately. The tears help.

  Slowly, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to relax, and I think back to the things the judge had said. She was right. Paul is a difficult man, but that doesn’t mean that I have to cower every time he comes over. I need to learn to stand up for myself because Paul isn’t going away, and no one’s going to do it for me.

  His passive aggressive comments and threats are never going to stop unless I put a stop to them, and God only knows what he’s saying to my son. This is just the first visit in an arrangement of biweekly visits for the next seven years. God help me.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jase

  I take the front steps two at a time and ring Ellen’s doorbell with a smile on my face. I can’t wait to tell her about the garage and all my plans to make it a success. When the door swings open, I get a look at her face, and my excitement fades.

  “Babe, what the hell?” I put my hand to her belly and guide her backwards so that I can come inside, and close the door behind me. “What’s wrong?”

  She sighs and grasps my wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m fine. I just got a little emotional when Paul left with Bryce.” I search her eyes, knowing that’s not everything.

  “What did that prick say to you?” I know he said something. Ellen’s tough, and she wouldn’t just cry because her son went away for the weekend.

  “It’s fine, Jase, really. He was no more of an asshole than usual, but I was upset because I realized just how much longer I have to deal with him.” She looks away. “And it hurt watching Bryce pack up his stuff in a big hurry to get away from me. I know he doesn’t get it, but…” Her shoulders lift in a sad shrug. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  “He said something else,” I push. “I know he did. Tell me.” Ellen’s teeth sink into her lip and she stares up at me, clearly trying to come to a decision. “Babe,” I say, “just tell me.”

  “He was angry that they took the money from his paycheck for child support. He was acting like I asked for the money, even though it was him that took me to court in the first place. He was blaming me, saying I just wanted to make things hard on him.” She takes a deep breath and looks off to the side. “He said that maybe he needs to find a way to make things hard for me.”

  I grit my teeth and try to fight back the anger that washes over me. That son of a bitch had never had any part in this kid’s life until a year ago, and now he’s frustrated that he has to pay? Fucking deadbeat. My father may not have won the father of the year award, but he always made sure I was taken care of, and that I had what I needed. It sounds like the time has come for me to finally meet this fucker, and help him to understand a few things.

  I pull her into my arms, wishing that I could make this whole thing go away for her. She wraps her arms around me and takes a deep breath, her body tense.

  “Wanna get out of here?” I suggest.

  “Not really,” she says, scrubbing her hands down her face. “I’d rather just sit here and feel sorry for myself with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, to be honest.”

  “Nope,” I say. “Not happenin’. Get your purse, woman. We’re going out.”

  She complains a bit, but with a little more coaxing, she heads to the bathroom and freshens up.

  Outside, I hand her the helmet that I now think of as hers, and wait while she does up the strap. “Where to?” she asks as she climbs on behind me.

  “There’s a party
at he clubhouse tonight. I wasn’t gonna go, but I think you and I could both use a beer. Besides, you haven’t been there yet, have you?”

  She shakes her head and I grin, starting up the motorcycle. I take the long way, feeling the tension leave Ellen’s body the longer I drive. One thing that a lot of people don’t get is that riding a Harley isn’t just a mode of transportation. It’s fucking therapy. No matter how pissed off I get, or how worried I am about something, hopping on my bike and going for a ride makes me feel better every single time.

  We pull into the compound and I wait while she climbs off, my eyes scanning the long line of motorcycles, trying to figure out who’s here. I’m surprised when I see Ryker’s ride standing proudly at the front of the line. I thought he said he had plans with Charlie.

  Taking Ellen’s hand, I head inside, weaving through the large crowd of people gathered. Every Friday night is busy at the Kings’ clubhouse, but tonight is busier than usual. Bosco’s leaning against the wall in a relatively empty part of the room.

  “Hey, Bos. What’s with all the civies?”

  Bosco chuckles. “Fuckin’ bunch of fools were at the Pig’s Ear and got into a fight.” He waves his hand, indicating the far side of the room where two patched members, Hulk and HaHa sit, surrounded by a group of women I’ve never seen before. “They invited a bunch of the ladies back here after the bouncer kicked their asses out.”

  Great. We’re not forbidden from having outsiders coming into the clubhouse, but having a bunch of them here at once never goes well, and always ends in some idiot civie getting his or her ass kicked. I look to the left to see Lucy and a couple of the other whores scowling at them all, clearly not happy to have their territory invaded. There is no way this is going to end well.

  As the new VP, it’s probably my duty to do something about this before shit gets out of hand, but I decide to let it go for now. I have something to celebrate, and Ellen needs to get her mind off her problems. Besides, how much trouble can a few women get into anyways?