by Ashley Lane
BETRAYED
BY BEAUTY
Heaven’s Guardians MC - Book 4
by: ASHLEY LANE
Copyright©2019 Ashley Lane
Betrayed by Beauty – Heaven’s Guardians MC – Book 4
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.
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Love does not come easy for two types of people.
Those who cannot stay and those who cannot walk away.
-Michael Xavier
DEDICATION
To those whose love does not fit neatly inside the mold that society has deemed right—acceptable.
My heart cries when you cry, rejoices when you rejoice, and sees you when no one else does.
When you feel alone in a world of billions, remember me.
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
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COMING SOON
AUTHOR BIO
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BANDIT
PROLOGUE
ANGEL
27 years old
This place gives me fucking hives.
My back is sweating underneath my leather cut and I shift, tugging at the collar of my black tee, hoping to erase the sensation of a noose tightening around my neck.
The air inside the courtroom is suffocating.
My eyes dart around the room, needlessly making note of the exits. Down the row, my gaze connects with Grace’s bored one, and in an attempt to distract her, and myself, I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue at her. Probably not the wisest move. But then again, I’ve never been one to follow the rules, so fuck it. Grace snickers at my antics and I consider that a win until Alaska nudges her to be quiet. Never one to take one for the team, Grace snitches and points at me down the row. Now I’m the one being chastised.
At the front of the room, standing before the judge, are the two reasons we’re all here.
Tobias and Falcon.
After fifteen long months of fostering, the boys’ stay in the system is ending. When we leave today they’re officially and legally, Bullet and Holly’s boys. After he proposed at a club cookout three months ago, they wasted no time in making an appointment with a justice of the peace to make things legal.
Bullet already knew that the boys were it for him. Holly, having felt the same way, suggested a small ceremony in the flower garden next to the courthouse. They’d no less said their I do’s and sealed it with a kiss before Holly was marching next door where they officially—as husband and wife—filed for adoption of Tobias and Falcon.
Three months later and we’re finally here. Today, the boys will officially become Tobias and Falcon Bentley, sons of Hawk and Holly Bentley. My eyes move to little Falcon who is bouncing on his toes, one hand clasped in Tobias’ hand, the other in Bullet’s.
The judge comes to the end of the page he’s been reading from for what seems like the past two hours and lifts his head. The sound of shuffling paper is all that can be heard in the otherwise silent, cavernous room. The judge folds his aged hands in front of him as his assessing gaze moves to the rest of our family.
He takes his time eying each of us, and for a brief second fear slices through me. Fuck. What if wearing our cuts wasn’t the right move to make? Can he tell them they aren’t fit?
Beside me, Demon stiffens, his thoughts no doubt mirroring my own. But before either of us can worry further, the old man surprises us when his eyes warm.
“I’m going to tell you something that very few people know about me,” he addresses Holly and Bullet. “Despite my current stature, it may surprise you to learn that I was raised in a world similar to the one in which you will raise these boys. I will admit, it can have its shortcomings. But where they may fall, others are made up for in leaps and bounds. The show of solidarity that your men… your family, has displayed today gives my old heart peace in signing these papers.” He smiles.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bently, I’m sure you are aware of the responsibility that is about to be laid upon your shoulders. I can see that it is one you are both eager to carry—but wanted or not, a responsibility of this magnitude is not to be taken lightly. In times of hardship or misfortune, lean heavily on those who will gladly help you carry the load.”
A burst of pride surges through my chest at the judge’s words. There’s no doubt in my mind that Holly and Bullet have this one hundred percent under control, but the conviction behind the old man’s words still ring true. If there ever is a time that they need us, they never have to doubt that we will be there.
Bullet looks over his shoulder at us, and I swear I can almost see tears swimming in his eyes. “Yes, Your Honor.”
He eyes the boys. “And now that I’ve given your parents their talkin’ to, it’s your turn.” No one misses the way Holly and Bullet’s breaths catch at being called parents for the first time.
“As you continue to grow on this path that may not be the one you started on, but is ultimately the one that God always had waiting for you, you will undoubtedly face times of uncertainty and confusion. Don’t hold these feelings close to your heart. Speak them freely so that you may be reminded often, that while your parents may not have given you the gift of life, they have given you many others. Laughter, love, family and friendship.”
Holly sobs and drops to her knees, holding Tobias and Falcon to her sides as Bullet stands over them, giving them his silent strength.
“And lastly, never doubt their love for you. I can assure you it is greater and deeper than either of you could ever imagine.”
“Yes sir,” the boys reply through their own tears.
Casting them one last smile, the judge picks up his pen and scribbles something across the papers in front of him before he lifts his head and addresses the court reporter. “Let it be noted that on this day, the fifteenth of January of the year twenty-twenty, Tobias and Falcon Beaumont are hereby and furthermore to be known as Tobias and Falcon Bentley. Sons of Hawk and Holly Bentley.”
The courtroom erupts in cheers as we jump to our feet, clapping and catcalling the new family.
I groan when I see Willow running to
the front of the room with her new camera in hand. I swear the woman takes pictures of every fuckin’ thing. Leo takes a crap in the toilet—we need a picture! Teagan blinks, holy shit she’s never blinked like that before—we need a fuckin’ picture.
I love the woman, but the last thing I want is to be placed and posed for the next hour takin’ sixty thousand goddamn photos. I eye the exit to my left and consider how much shit I’ll be in if I bolt now.
“Don’t even think about it,” Priest growls in my ear, effectively answering my question.
“What? I wasn’t going to do anything.” I flash him my most charming smile that has his eyes narrowing on me.
“Save it,” he growls. “I saw you eyein’ the fuckin’ door, and if you even think of leaving before my wife makes us pose for no less than thirty pictures, I’ll tell Jax you were the one to put that scratch on the back fender of his customer’s ‘cuda last week.”
My jaw drops open. “You wouldn’t.” I gasp.
Priest smirks. “Try me.”
Oh, he’s playing dirty.
Of course, I didn’t mean to scratch the ‘cuda… but what’s a guy to do when Crazy Train is blasting through the garage speakers and you’ve got a perfectly good creeper lying around? I’m pretty certain my rock card would have been revoked had I not jumped on the creeper and ridden that sonofabitch like it was my very own crazy train.
Looking back, I realize that doing so in the middle of a garage that’s constantly packed with timeless restoration pieces may not have been the best idea. Add in swinging my wrench around as I played air guitar—it was literally a recipe for disaster.
“Where is Jax by the way? Seems kinda like he should be here,” Priest comments, and I try but fail to hide my cringe.
Beside me, Demon’s eyes narrow on me as I pointedly avoid the penetrating gaze of my Prez.
“Why isn’t El Diablo over here ever questioned about his love life? I don’t see y’all quizzing him on his latest fuck.”
Demon takes a menacing step forward. I second guess my attempt at turning the spotlight off me. “No one asks about my latest fuck because no one knows who they are. The bitches know better than to open their mouths if they ever want my dick inside of it again.”
Priest raises his brow at me as if to say, Was that necessary?
Choosing to ignore them both, I step out of the pew and head toward the front. An outsider would probably think there was a damn celebrity in the room with Willow’s flash rivaling that of experienced paparazzi.
“Congrats man.” I clasp Bullet on his shoulder and pull him into a hug.
His ‘thanks’ is muffled in my neck as he slaps my back before pulling away with a grin mirroring the Cheshire cat.
“How’s it feel, Dad?”
Even though Bullet has been every bit of a dad and more to the boys for the past year, I’m sure it feels damn good knowing they’re legally, finally his. I overheard him talking to Priest once about being scared the boys would be taken away. I don’t have any kids but I love all the little shits that my brothers are filling our house with, and the thought of losing any one of them makes me sick.
“Fucking good.” He laughs out loud, something he rarely did before Holly and the boys came along. He opens his mouth to continue but is cut off by the sound of my cell ringing in my pocket. I hold up a finger, silently asking him to hang on for just a minute, but when I get a look at the caller, I groan.
Bullet, having not missed Jax’s name, raises a brow. “Trouble in paradicks—I mean, paradise? I was just going to ask why he isn’t here.”
Jesus Christ. These bikers are nosier than their women. I feel like my life has become a fuckin’ soap opera and they’re all wondering where their favorite character is.
I flip him off for his comment and accept the call with words on the tip of my tongue to end the call quick.
“Jax, listen, now’s not a goo—”
“Maddox.”
The tone of Jax’s voice immediately puts me on edge. I don’t think he’s scared, but he’s definitely in a situation that has him on guard, which means I need to be as well.
“Talk,” I grunt, and the short command gains not only Bullet’s attention, but all of my brothers.
There are some low murmurs and rustling on the other end of the line before Jax starts to speak. “Since the shop is closed today, I figured I’d head over to corrupt to see if they needed any help. I know that place basically runs itself now, but I wanted to check in. A woman came in looking for a job—guess she saw the flyers on the doors. At the bar she asked Malcolm who she needed to speak with, and that’s when everything went south. Girl had a hood pulled over her head so I couldn’t see her at the time, but Malcolm’s reaction was enough. Told her since dancers didn’t wear masks there was no way she could work there. Implied she needed to wear a damn bag over her head. Ran outta here like her tail was on fire.”
Fuck. That bastard and his high and mighty bullshit. “They’re not worth it if they’re fuckin’ ugly, man.” His words grate on me, sending my thoughts back to a time and place I don’t want to think about. Not today. Not ever.
“Jesus Christ, get to the fuckin’ point, Jax.” Today is about celebrating with my brothers, not dealing with shit Jax should be able to handle himself.
Jax blows out an unsteady breath. “Right, right. Sorry. Anyway, I don’t know why, Maddox—I can’t fuckin’ explain it, but I went to find her. It was like I needed to find her.” His voice seems to shake, but that can’t be right. Why is he going to so much trouble for this girl?
“Okay, and? Did you find her?”
Silence comes from the other line lasting several seconds before he clears his throat and speaks, “I found her.”
I repeat my earlier comment. “Okay, and?”
“And I think you need to get down here… maybe bring Demon too.”
My brows hit my hairline. No one ever suggests bringing Demon. Demon is a fuckin’ loose cannon, and lately, a borderline possible liability. “Why do I need to bring Demon?”
At the sound of his name, Demon turns to look at me and I hold his narrowed eyes.
Jax’s voice comes back but this time it’s quieter, barely above a mumble. “Listen, I could be way off base here, but this girl—something’s wrong Madd. She’s fucking terrified of her own shadow, but it’s not just the way she’s looking over her shoulder with every move she makes.”
“Then what is it?”
“I have a feeling the reason she’s so scared is because someone hurt her… bad Maddox.”
I pause. “Why do you think that?”
Jax pulls in a shaky breath before releasing it. “Because the scars are written all over her face.”
CHAPTER 1
JAX
30 years old
Thirty minutes before
What the fuck am I doing here?
The neon signs in the windows of Corrupt are dimmed out by the Colorado sun, but still, like a moth drawn to a flame, I was lured by them as I drove by. There are a thousand reasons I should have ignored their pull but like a siren, they sang to me and like always, I was too weak to deny their call.
I’ve been sitting in my truck for ten minutes staring at the tinted windows, my eyes straining uselessly to see within. Looking, searching.
I don’t know why. Don’t lie to yourself, you know exactly why you’re here, and who you’re looking for.
Him. Always him.
Even though I know he’s not here, I climb out of my truck and relish the feel of the summer sun on my back. I fucking hate the cold. I should move somewhere warmer. My chest squeezes painfully at the thought, almost as if my heart is punishing my stupid fucking mind for daring to think such a vile thought.
You’re a fool. My mind taunts the useless organ in my chest.
And it is exactly that. Useless. The heart that is supposed to serve me; to pump blood through my body and breathe life into the other parts, no longer lives to serve me.
It lives for him.
Each beat serves to keep me alive so that I can have one more taste of him. His love, his hate. I’ll take whatever he gives me and drink it up as if my soul is dying of thirst.
Because it is. I am.
I push through the door and into the bar that the club owns. I’m not one of them—a Heaven’s Guardian. But you wouldn’t know it from the way people look at me when I walk in. The men stand taller and straighten their shoulders. The women’s eyes turn calculating, hungry with desire.
I may not be a Guardian, but I’m fucking one. And to them that’s enough to garner the same respect. It’s not something I ask for or would ever expect, but it’s given to me all the same.
I make my way through the crowd of people, unsurprised to see it filled to capacity. It doesn’t matter that it’s Tuesday afternoon, the place never has a dull day. I reach the bar and my eyes connect with Malcolm, the bartender.
“What can I get ya, man?” he asks as he leans over the bar and crosses his arms over the weathered wood.
Though he’s been here a few years, my stance on the guy hasn’t changed.
I don’t like him. Never have, never will. There’s something slimy lurking beneath his murky green eyes, and I don’t like the feeling that crawls down my back every time he’s near. I’ve mentioned it to Angel a hundred times, but when the guys are around, it’s like a switch is flipped.
The silent psychopath disappears and out comes Mr. Nice Guy. He can charm them with his smile all he wants, but he can’t hide from me.
