Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Uncut: An Unacceptables MC Standalone Romance (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  The store clerk’s eyes got wide as her gaze wandered over to me when the bell chimed overhead, announcing my entrance into the tiny shop.

  I nodded over her way. “Hello, darlin’.”

  She feigned a smile. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen, and I knew she was scared shitless. Her hand slowly disappeared under the counter; I knew she was reaching for some sort of weapon hidden under there. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten a reaction like that from a female. I was pretty used to it, and I couldn’t blame her. It was three in the morning, and Jaxon and I had ridden up on screaming hogs wearing cuts, looking meaner than sin. If she were my daughter, I would have taught her to do the same damn thing.

  I pointed to the back, where a big Bathroom sign hung over the hallway. “Just hittin’ the john, dear.”

  I walked into the tiny white washroom that smelled like mildew and piss. The lock clicked. The phone was gripped in my grasp, and I knew I had to dial. I knew it was time. To say that I was nervous was a damn understatement. It was the hardest thing in the fucking world for me to admit, but I was scared shitless to tell Buck about Abel. The other charters needed to know, deserved to hear it from me, but out of all the other presidents, Kane Buckley was going to be the hardest to tell. He needed to be first. I couldn’t bear the thought of him hearing the news from Blaz or Maccon.

  It was two in the morning in Killeen, Texas. Thankfully, Buck was usually still awake at that hour. The phone only rang once before his gruff voice answered, “Yeah? Who the heck is this calling at this hour?”

  “It’s Bear.” I sucked in a deep breath, waiting for his response.

  “Hold on.” I could hear him shuffling a little and Barley mumbling in the background. Buck whispered, “It’s all right, sweetheart. Just a call I have to take.” The sound of him kissing his wife on the cheek came through the line before he shut a door behind him. “Bear? You all right?”

  I chomped down, churned my jaw for a few seconds. No words would come out.

  “Bear? What in the fuck is going on?” Buck’s voice was low as he growled into the phone.

  “It’s Abel,” I finally spit out. Flashes of Abel’s skull ripping open as the bullet pierced the back of his head haunted me while I fought to find the words to explain the horror of that entire situation.

  “What do you mean?” The smallest hint of panic coated the simple question.

  I choked a bit before the words left my throat. “It’s not good, brother.”

  “Bear, you fucking need to spit it out.” His voice was low and even.

  “Fuck, man. H-he was shot. There was nothing we could have done. We walked right into their goddamned trap like fucking idiots.” My voice crackled as the thick words forced themselves out.

  “Who? How? What can I do?” The sounds of his boots stomping down the stairs of his house echoed.

  “The Vilas guys need some time. Ryder is his heir. Between Holt and Ryder, they will let us know what needs to be done. Right now, all we can do is reach out to connections and try to figure out who is truly behind this. We know Sinners were involved.”

  “They’re too small of an organization to have the balls or manpower to go to war with us.” Buck was right; there had to be something more to all of this.

  “I am about halfway back to Atlanta. I will call Blaz and Maccon in the morning.”

  “Safe home, man. Talk tomorrow.”

  “Aye, brother. We will make this right.”

  “Nothin’ can make this right. Regicide will never be all right.” I could hear the twisting of Buck’s heart in his words. It mirrored mine. Rage and sorrow collided as we tried to accept our new reality.

  After taking a piss and washing my hands, I made my way back through the store. “Have a nice mornin’, darlin’.” I nodded at the clerk on my way out. She never muttered a word all the while her eyes stayed glued on me.

  Jaxon was leaning up against his bike, waiting for me.

  “Ready to get home?” I asked, throwing my left leg over my Harley.

  “That’s a damn understatement.”

  We were only a few miles out from our exit. The road was clear and quiet, it had been at least an hour since we had seen any other vehicles on the abandoned highway. I could feel the exhaustion from the last couple of days starting to weigh me down. It felt like it had been years since I had truly slept. A flickering light caught my eye just up ahead, off on the shoulder. Right as I was about to signal to Jaxon, he whistled. He must have been seeing the same thing I was.

  There was a motorcycle on its side, the headlight flickering, the engine making a low crying sound. I flew off my bike, rushing to the aid of the rider who was sprawled out in the damp grass just a few feet from the overturned bike.

  Throwing my helmet to the side, I yelled to Jaxon, “Call 9-1-1!”

  “On it,” he responded and I could hear him pushing the buttons on his cell immediately.

  I ripped the helmet off of the injured, passed-out rider and was shocked to find that it was a woman. I checked for a pulse—it was faint, but there. She wasn’t breathing. Without second-guessing it, I started CPR. The song “Staying Alive” played in my head just like the instructor had taught me in the class I had taken in high school when I was getting my lifeguard certification. At the time, I’d thought it was the most ludicrous thing on the damn planet, but in that moment, it worked.

  I had no idea how long I was pumping on her chest, if Jaxon was talking or not, or even when the responders arrived. It wasn’t until a paramedic pulled me off of her that my brain snapped back into focus.

  The flashing lights of the ambulance stung my eyes as I ran next to the rolling gurney. I was about to jump into the bus with her when Jaxon’s hand gripped my arm firmly, pulling me back.

  “Let’s follow them to the hospital. Let them do their jobs.”

  With wide eyes, I gaped at my VP as we stood next to our bikes. He was right, but it took him shouting in my face a few more times to get me to snap out of my autopilot protector mentality. In the moment we’d found that woman, she had become my responsibility. It was my job to make sure she was going to be all right.

  Jaxon’s deep voice broke through the air, “Bear! Get a fucking grip!” he yelled again, barely registering as he pulled me over to where I had thrown my own bike to the ground.

  I pulled my helmet back on, jumped on my bike and hauled ass to follow the flashing lights of the ambulance to the closest emergency room.

  Continue Reading…

  Grab your copy here.

  Undeniable

  A Delta Force Heroes & Unacceptables MC Crossover

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Ryan

  I kicked at the gravel next to the front tire of my brother’s beat-up white Bronco, the hot summer sun making the black suit I’d been forced to wear that much more uncomfortable. I tugged at the knot of the tie, ripped off the jacket, and yelled at the top of my lungs. No one was around to witness my tantrum, but I wouldn’t have given a fuck if anyone had seen it. Everyone and anyone could go fuck themselves for all I cared at that point.

  Standing in the middle of the driveway, I knew the actions that had to be taken, but I had no idea how to even put one foot in front of the other. “Fuck, man,” I cussed under my breath. “Why’d you have to die?”

  I wasn’t mad at Cameron for leaving, joining the Marines, or even for getting blown up; I was fucking pissed that he’d been taken from us. I was angry that my mother was ripped apart, that my father could barely look me in the eye, that everyone felt sorry for me and my family. I was irritated that I was dealing with all of the bullshit and then missing my big brother at the same time. At nineteen, you’re just not ready to have to bury your older brother; I guess no one is ever really ready for that shit though.

  When I hopped into the dusty driver’s seat, the old springs complained under me. I took in a deep breath of the musty smell as I let my imagination get the better of me. I conjured up
our conversation as I drove down the dirt road from my house to the funeral home.

  “Easy on the gas with ’em sharp turns, Ry. Her suspension doesn’t like ’em.” My brother would have teased me as I hugged the shoulder turning right past the Lewis plantation.

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember. You should have done the airbag lift like I said, not a body lift. You stubborn asshole,” I mumbled under my breath. I knew it was crazy, but talking out loud to him made me feel better, made him feel less gone. “You know I’m going to have to finish what you started.”

  “Ryan, you know it would break mom’s heart if she got two folded flags. One is enough for a lifetime. Just let sleeping dogs lie.” He would have put his hand on my shoulder and pleaded with me. He would have called me an idiot, yelled in my face. I knew that even though he’d wanted nothing more than to defend our country, he had wanted me as far away from war as possible; he made sure to tell me so over and over while I was growing up. Every male member of our family had served in one or multiple branches of the military, but Cameron was steadfast in making me go to college and break the mold.

  “You’re destined to be something so much more. Become a doctor. Become a teacher. Fuck, open a restaurant or write a damn book. Travel the world.” I could hear him rattling off as many different professions as he could think of while trying his damnedest to convince me that signing my life away on that dotted line did not have to be my destiny.

  “I can’t fucking do that, brother. I’m sorry.” I cursed the tears that welled up in my eyes.

  “Better get those out now,” I could hear Cameron reminding me. “Axston men don’t cry. Dad would have your ass if he saw you right now.”

  That bitter old man wasn’t going to be winning any father of the year awards any time soon, but I still had an overwhelming need to please him and make him proud. Crying wasn’t a thing that men did, not in our family. I was going to have to sit in that damn truck with Cam’s dog tags swinging from the rearview mirror until I could get a damn grip.

  Parked in the back of the full lot, I watched as numerous people dressed in black and many in military uniforms filed into the small funeral home. One by one, they bowed their heads as my crying mother and my stoic father shook their hands.

  I watched as my mother sobbed into a tissue in her hand as everyone’s lips read, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Followed by hers expressing appreciation for them attending.

  I was a four-star general’s son. I was the brother of a casualty of war. What was I? Nothing. Yet.

  I took a few deep breaths in, counted to ten over and over, trying to calm my shaking nerves. Fuck this. Turned the key and let the throaty engine roar to life. I wasn’t going to go in to pay my final respects to Cameron without having something to tell him. I needed to have something to show for myself before I could feel right actually saying goodbye.

  Walking into the recruiter’s office felt all too right, the bell chiming over my head as I stepped inside.

  “Can I help you, son?” A middle-aged, clean-shaven man in a Marine Corps uniform started to clamber to his feet from behind his desk.

  “Where do I sign?”

  Continue Reading…

  Grab your copy here.

  Note From the Author

  Thank you for reading Uncut. In doing so, you have helped fulfill a very important goal of mine. From every purchase of any of my books, I donate to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation. The mission of the foundation is to "help better the lives of abused and at-risk children, and to build community awareness regarding the needs of children."

  The Marcie Mazzola Foundation was established in 2003 by my family. On July 6, 2002, Marcie died tragically in an automobile accident. Although she was only 21 at the time of her death, Marcie had experienced many things and touched many lives. She was a beautiful young woman whose inner beauty surpassed even her physical beauty because of her compassionate nature and treatment of others.

  At the time of her death, Marcie was involved in a civil lawsuit against a school bus driver who had sexually abused her when she was 11 years old. Prior to her death, it had been expected that the case would be won, but since Marcie could no longer testify, it was going to be next to impossible to win. Marcie’s attorney met with her family to determine if the suit should be continued. He advised the family that Marcie had confided in him her intention to donate her entire award to help sexually and physically abused children if she won the case. Once this was known, the family had no doubt that the suit had to continue.

  The attorney’s strong commitment to Marcie prompted him to proceed with the case, and against all odds, it was won. Marcie’s estate was awarded a monetary settlement. With her attorney’s guidance and continued support, the family established a foundation as a tribute to Marcie’s life, which would continue her legacy to help children.

  To learn more about The Marcie Mazzola Foundation, please visit:

  http://www.marciemazzolafoundation.org

  Marcie Mazzola Foundation

  158 Burr Road,

  Commack, NY 11725

  phone: 631-858-1855 • fax: 631-462-8544 email: info@marciemazzolafoundation.org

  About the Author

  Bestselling author, Kristen Hope Mazzola, is a Florida native that has found herself loving a North Carolina life. She writes contemporary romance ranging from steamy romantic comedy, sexy erotica, angsty new adult, all the way to sports romance – with dirty bikers, hot military men, and swoon-worthy rockstars in between. A portion of her royalties is donated to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation.

  Stay Connected

  www.KristenHopeMazzola.com

  AuthorKristenMazzola@gmail.com

  All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  The Crashing Series:

  Crashing: The Wedding

  Crashing Back Down

  Falling Back Together

  The Unacceptables MC Standalone Series:

  Unacceptable

  Unspeakable

  Unbreakable

  Untouchable

  Unbearable

  Undeniable

  The Hysterics Standalone Series:

  The Hysterics

  Colt & Serena: A Hysterics Short Story

  Shots On Goal Standalone Series:

  Hat Trick

  Cross Checked

  Cherry Picked

  Low Blow

  Playoff Beard

  Off Duty

  Standalones:

  Stupid Hearts

  Rough & Tumble

  Boxsets:

  The Crashing Series

  Lust & Love

  The Shots on Goal Series Box Set

  The Unacceptables Series Box Set

  The Huntress Series (co-written with Dawn Robertson):

  The Huntress (Book 1)

  The Hopeless (Book 2)

  The Nameless (Book 3)

  Charity Compilations:

  30 Dirty Martinis

  Word Search For Warriors: Authors For A Cause (Volume 1)

  The 69 Series:

  (multi-author collaborations for charity)

  Hook & Ladder 69

  Bleed Blue 69

  Acknowledgments

  First off, I want to thank the entire book community. Over the last five years I have seen my dreams come true in more ways than I could have ever imaged, I have made more friends, seen much success, and traveled all over. Without this amazing book community that I have found myself in, I would not be the person I am today or live such a wonderful and fulfilled life. I truly grateful to this community for helping me rise from the ashes at one of the lowest times in my life. The book world saved me.

  To Kelly: You have become such a shining light in this world for me and I truly appreciate you support and friendship. I love you, girl.

  To Steph: I am so thankful that this book community has brought us together. You’re amazing and the help that you have given to me since we met is invaluable.

  To My Giant: Thanks for making me name Mike
y after you!! He was a great addition to this series and it’s all thanks to you.