Menace (Moonshine Task Force Book 5)

by Laramie Briscoe

  The teenage fuckup, the single dad, and the loner of the crew – none of those labels apply any more.

  The one that does?

  Mason Harrison: happy man.

  The End

  Click here to preorder Caleb’s story “Cruise” – coming May 4th!

  Thank you so much for reading “Menace”! If this was your first book of the Moonshine Task Force, I encourage you to look the other’s up. “Renegade” is a personal favorite, but this one holds a really special place in my heart! I’m sure Caleb’s book will as well!

  If there was a part you loved of “Menace”, please don’t hesitate to leave a review and let other readers know!

  Also, if you do leave a review, please email me with the link so that I can say a personal ‘thank you’!!! They mean a lot, and I want to let you know I appreciate you taking the time out of your day!

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  Also by Laramie:

  Hurricane

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tatum

  I jerk my head upright as the roar of a motorcycle breaks through the otherwise peaceful Bowling Green, Kentucky morning. The book on my phone’s reading app is forgotten as I put a hand to my chest and cut my gaze directly across from Cash’s Customs, the body shop specializing in foreign makes and models I work at. Walker’s Wheels, which specializes in domestic vehicles and motorcycles, is my dad’s shop, and the man leaving the parking lot is the one who pissed me off a year ago. In all honesty, he’s still pissing me off. I glare at his leather-jacket covered back as he rides down the street. Pissed off because he ruined my concentration, I try not to think about how the guttural sound of the engine mimics the way he moaned when he came. Remembering our interlude in the garage of the Heaven Hill Clubhouse does nothing but make me angry – angry that things aren’t different than they are right now.

  “It’s been a year Tatum, you ever gonna talk to him again?”

  My eyes roll by themselves as I shift my weight to one hip. Leaning back against the counter with my other, I shoot a glare at my boss. Cash Montgomery has been fair to me, but this question? Makes me purse my lips and roll my eyes heavenward, letting out a huge sigh to go along with it.

  “You think I should just because he’s your brother?”

  He shakes his head, running a hand over his scruffy jaw. “I’m just a guy who knows that guys screw up, and I’m wondering if maybe you aren’t overreacting.”

  “Overreacting?” I spit the word out like it’s on fire. “You have no idea what went down with us last January. Boss, friend, and his brother, or not, you should probably shut the fuck up.”

  It was still embarrassing, the way we’d treated each other. I almost wish he’d left me on the side of the road. For weeks after, I’d cried, trying to figure out where the fuck we’d messed up. How had we gone from this crazy attraction that suffocated a room when we were in it together to me having sex with another guy? I know that part was my fault, and I feel guilty. I wish I could take it back. That part of my personality is a bitch – ya know the one where I have to hurt anyone who hurts me worse? Truthfully, I think I learned my lesson this time.

  The words Remy spoke to me still ring in my ears. Are you proud of yourself? Even today, they cause goosebumps on my arms, and I rub my hands up and down the flesh to warm it. I hate the way we left things; I would change it if I could. But I can’t be hurt again by him, and I don’t think I can stand to hurt him, either. No matter how much I’ve had to harden my heart to him, I know it’s the right thing to do. We can’t seem to be mature around each other – we get stupid. Not speaking to him is my way to keep my head about me. I know the minute I give in, it’ll be like it always was with us. He’ll give me that sexy smirk he doesn’t give anyone else, be his quiet, brooding self, and I’ll be doe-eyed again, wanting to know all the secrets he keeps. Nobody knows how difficult this has been for me. We were good friends. I want to talk to him, I want his opinion on things, and I sure as fuck don’t want to have to avoid him at every club get together. We were building something, even if others didn’t know it, even if I was the only one willing to put my heart out there. Remington Sawyer has always been a loner – quiet, closed off, and happy to spend time on his own. I wanted to change that, be the person he could be his true self with, but we never got the chance.

  “I’m gonna take lunch if that’s okay with you.”

  Cash gives me a grin, and for a moment I’m reminded hardcore of Remy. In looks, they don’t favor each other, having different fathers. In mannerisms and smiles, they could be twins. “You’re gonna do it whether I say it’s okay or not, girl. Go ahead, I need to run by the bakery and pick up something from Harper anyway. Just stick a note on the door saying when we’ll be back.”

  “Will do, see you in about an hour.”

  I watch as he leaves, then stick a note on the door, giving the lock a turn. When I hear the click, I go to the back of the building and let myself out. Quickly I arm the alarm for the garage and get to my car, cranking up the heat and checking out the gray sky. The clouds are low today, a low-ceiling I’ve heard it called. Later on in the day, they’re calling for rain, and given how cold it is, it might turn into something more.

  It’s reminiscent of the day last year when Remy and I stopped speaking to one another. I have no desire to relive that day, and stupid me never realized it’d be such a turning point in my life.

  Remington Sawyer. I shake my head as I think of the teenager I met when I wasn’t even a teenager myself and the man he’s become. Even now, I get chills when I think about him. He’s an addiction I can’t quite kick, one I’m not sure I want to. As much as I want to feel his hand in mine, get more kisses, and generally have him around, the stubborn part of my personality won’t allow it. Especially not when he’s the one who created the issue by telling me I’m too young for him, thinking I don’t know my own mind.

  What a fucking joke. I’ve known my own mind since I was old enough to know what love and sex are. My parents, Liam and Denise Walker, aren’t shy when it comes to showing how much they care for each other. I’ve grown up with a very healthy respect for marriage and sexuality, and I’ve wanted that with Remy since I realized the thumping of my heart when he’s around meant I like him in a way that’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

  I threw myself at him. Let him take the first orgasm I’d never given to myself at a club party, and then given him the same pleasure before he pushed me away. Talking some shit about him being too old for me and he respected me too much to take my virginity.

  “Oh, my virginity.” I curl my nose up as I make a left-hand turn at the end of Louisville Road heading for the strip of fast food restaurants, hoping that at least one of them didn’t have a line for lunch rush.

  Thinking back to the night I gave my virginity to someone else, just to get rid of the obstacle, still causes a pain so deep it makes my chest hurt. Rubbing my hand against my breastbone, I wonder when that pain will go away. Because what happened that night set into motion this face-off between the two of us, and it looks like neither one is willing to give in anytime soon.

  And that sucks, because before all of this happened, he’d been on
e of my best friends, and fuck if I don’t miss him. But I have enough friends. Tatum Walker wants a love like her parents, like my brother and sister have with their significant others, like every other member of the Heaven Hill MC has, and I’m not going to settle until I get it. Never again will I settle. Settling hurts, and I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.

  Remy

  “It’s cold out here today,” I comment as I enter my sister-in-law’s bakery in the Bowling Green downtown district. It’s quiet this time of day; most people want sweets in the morning, not so much after lunch, so I have the place to myself.

  “You here, Harper?” I yell out, when I don’t see her manning the front counter.

  “I’m here.” She laughs, coming from behind the wall that separates the front area from the private area. She’s fixing her hair, and I have to wonder what I’ve interrupted when my brother comes out from behind her, wiping his mouth of her lipstick.

  “Shit, y’all. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Cash gives me a shit-eating grin. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

  They look at one another, giggling again, and I feel the kick in my chest. That damn loneliness. God, I want what they have so badly. The fact that my brother has been able to find it after the childhood we had gives me so much fucking hope. My problem is that the woman I want it with still won’t talk to me. Three hundred and sixty-six days now, to be exact, since Tatum Walker has looked at, let alone spoken, to me.

  Oh sure, she’s said things when we’re in a group together, but it’s never directed at me. Never pertaining to anything I talk about or ask. It’s as if I’m an invisible entity to her, and I wonder what I’ll have to do to get her to see me again. Being invisible to her hurts, taking me back to my childhood when I was invisible to everyone except Cash and Harper. They were the only two people who truly cared about me.

  Both of them come out from behind the counter, having a seat at the table nearest me. Taking the hint, I sit down too, waiting for them to speak.

  “What brings you by here?”

  “Harper, do I have to have a reason to come visit my sister-in-law?”

  “Not usually, but you’ve seemed down the past few weeks. I’m worried about you, kid.”

  At twenty-seven, I’m not a kid anymore, but everyone still thinks of me as the small boy who toted around an inhaler like a backpack. Still, I can’t be rude, not to the two people who’ve always supported me.

  “Just got a lot of shit on my mind.”

  Cash leans forward on his biceps, letting the table take his weight. “Hey man, you know you can always talk to me, no matter how old you get. I’m always going to be here for you. Nothing changes that, you know?”

  “I know, and I appreciate it, but it’s shit I don’t wanna talk about, to be honest.”

  “Shit having to do with a certain employee of mine who just told me to shut the fuck up when I asked if she was ever going to speak to you again?”

  “Why the fuck did she do that?” I flick a piece of paper off the table. “I swear to God she does stuff just to piss me off.”

  “No, she does stuff to get a rise out of you,” Harper argues.

  “What does it even matter when she won’t speak to me? I can be yelling in her face, and she won’t speak to me, doesn’t even act like I’m looking at her.”

  I hold my hands palms up in a what the fuck gesture before I put them back on the table. “I’m at a loss.”

  Harper turns her chair so that she’s looking at me head-on. “Have you ever wondered if she doesn’t talk to you because you’re so loud about it? Loud isn’t the Remy any of us know. You’ve never been that type of guy, but I get it. You’re frustrated. You want things to go back to the way they were. She’s always been one of your best friends. But what happens if you go about it in a way that’s not a show? Send her a note? Make a small gesture, one that she’ll know is from you.”

  “I tried texting her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Harper moans, rolling her eyes. “Texting is so impersonal. Write her a damn note. Use a pen and a piece of motherfucking notebook paper, and let her see you took a minute out of your day to do it. Women want to know you can make time for them, that in the middle of the craziness of everything you’ve got going on, you’re thinking about them. Which is why your brother is here today and almost got lucky in the back.”

  “Cockblocker.” Cash coughs into his hand. I shoot him a glare, trying to remind him we’re talking about me here.

  “I think about her all the time,” I admit softly. The hole she’s left in my life is big, one that no one else is ever going to be able to fill.

  “Then show her. Don’t tell her, show her.”

  The idea has its merits, and I understand what Harper is trying to say, but I wonder if I’m too late.

  “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

  Cash chuckles darkly, rapping his nails on the table. “Trust me, she does. The way she watches you across the street every day, she wants you and the relationship you two can have. The guys who try to give her their numbers, that she doesn’t take? She’s waiting on you bro. Now man up and do something about it.”

  For the first time in a year, I have a plan.

  I’m going to win Tatum Walker back, I’m going to show her what she means to me, and I’m not going to stop until I have her in my arms.

  No matter how long that takes.