Wicked Legacy: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Rough Jesters MC Book 8)

by Brook Wilder

  The revulsion on her face said it all. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, some of my anger diffused. Amy was living in the same hell I had with Red and while my time with him was limited, hers would still continue as long as she was there. “You have to leave the bar, Amy. It’s not safe there.”

  Amy let out a bitter laugh, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Where would I go, Cora? I don’t have anything to look forward to in my life. I need the money.”

  “But at what expense?” I asked her, taking her by the shoulders. “He’s not going to stop.”

  She burst into tears and I pulled her into a hug, her body wracked with sobs. I knew how she felt. I had been there more times than I cared to count, the sick feeling never truly going away. How many times had he abused her as well? I had always suspected that Red had forced Amy to do the same things, especially while I was out with Amelia, but she had never said as much.

  Now I knew what she had suffered through. Pulling back, I decided that she should not be left here. “Come with me,” I told her. “There are people that are willing to help; people who hate Red as much as we do. They can keep you safe.”

  Hope flared in her eyes. “Really?”

  I nodded. “I’m about to go myself. Why don’t you come with me?”

  She looked down at the T-shirt and jeans she was wearing. “But I don’t have anything.”

  I stepped away from her. “We will worry about that later. They can help you. I’m sure of it.”

  At least I hoped they would be willing.

  ***

  An hour later, I pulled my car up to the ramshackle house on the outskirts of town, the rusted tin roof and empty overgrown yard looking nothing like the safe haven I had pictured it to be.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Amy asked in a small voice as I shut off the engine.

  I clenched my jaw, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “I’m positive. Come on.”

  We climbed out of the car and walked up to the porch, the front door opening before we could get any further. Two burly-looking men stepped out, blocking the door with guns already drawn. “State your business, ladies,” one of them said, motioning toward us with his gun.

  “I’m here to see Clayton,” I stated. “And my sister and my baby.”

  He gave me a courtesy once-over. “You’re Cora?”

  I lifted my chin. “I am.”

  He looked over at Amy. “Who’s she?”

  “My coworker and friend,” I answered, linking arms with a trembling Amy. “She can be trusted. She needs protection.”

  He gave a shrug and moved out of the way. “Come in. Give me the keys. We will hide your car.”

  I didn’t know what that meant, but I handed them over anyway as we passed, stepping into a dimly lit living room, the carpet worn and threadbare.

  “Cora!”

  I caught my sister as she flew into my arms, squeezing me tightly. “Em. Are you okay?”

  She pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “I’m fine, but I am so ready to be done with this place. You should have seen the bed they gave me last night. It was full of dust that had me sneezing half the night! Are you here to take me home?”

  “Not yet,” I said, looking over her shoulder. There were other bikers milling about the room, some sitting on furniture that had seen better days, some lounging against the wall, bottles of beer in their hands. I was surprised to see both men and women present, all watching the proceedings with interest. “Where’s Amelia?” I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my baby girl until now and I desperately wanted to see her.

  “She’s right here.”

  Clayton’s voice filled the air and I felt my heart kick up a notch as I realized he was holding a sleeping Amelia in his arms. She looked so tiny in his grasp and I felt my resolve softening even more at the sight. “Hey,” he said, giving me a half smile. “She’s sleeping.”

  “You look like a natural,” I answered, finding my voice. He didn’t look like holding his child was anything he hadn’t done before.

  He gave me a shrug. “Until she poops or pukes. I can’t deal with that shit.”

  I nearly laughed aloud. He could stare down a hail of bullets coming his way, but bodily fluids freaked him out?

  Emily rounded on me, her hands on her hips. “Clayton said you would be coming, but he didn’t say what would happen after you did. Why is Amy here, anyway? Is she part of this whole deal?”

  Amy. Right. The sight of Clayton holding our daughter so cautiously had scrambled my thoughts. “Red sent a message.”

  “What kind of message?” Clayton asked instantly, his expression hard.

  I pulled the pictures out of my back pocket, showing him. “I don’t know what he wants, but he’s telling me something. He sent these with Amy.”

  “He didn’t say anything to me,” Amy added tearfully, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it.”

  The door opened behind us and an older woman dressed in all black pushed her way through, flanked by two other women dressed similarly. I stepped closer to Clayton as her gaze swept the room, finally landing on Amy. “There she is.”

  I looked at Amy, who was just as confused as I was.

  “Mama Bear,” one of the others in the room said, standing. “I didn’t know you were in this Mexican hellhole like the rest of us.”

  Mama Bear didn’t answer, pulling a wicked-looking gun from the holster under her arm and pointing it at Amy. “You little cartel-loving bitch.”

  A murmur went through the room as I saw Amy’s eyes widen. What was going on here?

  Clayton placed Amelia in Emily’s arms, touching her forehead lightly before he stepped back. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “But,” Emily said, clutching Amelia. “What about Cora? What is going on here?”

  Clayton’s jaw tightened. “Go now. Your sister stays.”

  I swallowed at the hard edge of his tone, not sure what he was thinking about this situation. Whatever it was, it didn’t involve my sister or my child. “Go,” I forced out. “Please.”

  Emily’s jaw set tightly but she moved away from the situation and through the front door, where the gathering bikers parted to let her pass before closing the gap again.

  While I wanted to step even closer to Clayton, I didn’t. “Amy is here because of me,” I said, my voice quivering. “She wasn’t safe where she was.”

  Mama Bear let out a short bark of a laugh. “This bitch shouldn’t be here. I hope you looked for a fucking tracker. I bet my bike she’s got one on her somewhere. Where did they plant it, huh? Up your cunt, maybe?”

  Amy’s eyes were wild as she looked at me, shaking her head emphatically. “I don’t know what this crazy bitch is talking about.”

  “Crazy bitch?” Mama Bear roared. Before I knew what was happening, she had Amy by her hair, dragging her toward the back of the house. “I’ll show you crazy!”

  Amy was screaming, trying to pull away, and I started after them, only to be restrained by Clayton. “You don’t want to mess with her,” he warned, his voice in my ear as others followed the duo through the house.

  I wrenched my arm from him, tears burning my eyes. “She’s my friend! I brought her here for protection, not to be accosted by some crazy person!”

  “Cora! Wait,” he started, but I was already following the crowd, pushing my way through until I found myself out back, surrounded by men and women alike. Mama Bear and Amy were in the center of the circle, Amy’s face streaked with tears. “Let her go,” I said, marching into the circle.

  The older woman snickered, her gun trained on Amy. “You think I am going to listen to you?”

  “No, but you sure as shit will listen to me.”

  Everyone, including Mama Bear, turned to see another woman striding into the circle, the look on her face murderous. There was something about her walk, like she knew she was in charge, that had me taking a step back, bumping into Clayton’s solid form in the process. “That’s Widow Maker,” he whispere
d in my ear, his arm encircling my waist.

  The leader of the Bitches. Siren’s former president.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked, glancing at the silently crying Amy before addressing the older woman. “Why the hell are you here? You don’t belong here any longer.”

  The older woman had the grace to look embarrassed, giving her a stiff nod. “I’ve been following this one here for months. She’s working for the cartel.”

  “She works in a bar,” I called out.

  Widow Maker swung her gaze to me. “And who the fuck are you?”

  “Cora,” Clayton answered, holding me against him. “She’s with Siren.”

  Widow Maker glared at me a moment longer before turning back to the duo and I let out a shaky breath. “Cora, stop,” Clayton said in a low voice. “This shit is bad enough. I don’t need you to be in it.”

  “That’s my friend,” I whimpered softly. His arm tightened against my waist and I knew he was acknowledging the fact. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Amy.

  He couldn’t.

  “What proof do you have?” Widow Maker was asking Mama Bear. “You can’t execute an innocent person.”

  “This ain’t no innocent person,” the older biker spat. “I’ve got tapes of her phone calls to Villarreal about the upcoming shipments and video of her fucking one of the cartel members like her life depended on it. Trust me, this isn’t just a bartender.”

  I looked at Amy, who was crying and shaking her head, and waited for her to deny the fact that she was doing any of this. That wasn’t the Amy I knew! She was innocent. A hardworking person who got caught up in Red’s evil trap—like me.

  Widow Maker gazed at Amy for a moment before stepping back. “Fine then. Do your dirty work, then get the hell out of here. You don’t belong here anymore.”

  Something passed over Mama Bear’s face before she shuttered it, turning her attention back to Amy. I watched as she forced the young woman to her knees, pulling her gun and placing it at the back of her head.

  No, this could not be happening! “You can’t shoot her!” I shouted, attempting to break Clayton’s hold on me. “She did nothing wrong! Tell them, Amy! Tell them that you’re innocent! Please!”

  “Help me, Cora!” Amy finally screamed, her voice cracking. “Don’t let them do this, please!”

  My heart broke and I stomped on Clayton’s foot, hearing him grunt under the force, but it was enough for him to loosen his hold. I took off in a sprint, my entire body moving in slow motion as I made a mad dash for Amy.

  The sound of a gun echoed in my ears and Amy fell forward face-first into the dirt. Someone let out a bloodcurdling wail, and only after Clayton pulled me close to him did I realize that it was me.

  “And you,” Mama Bear pointed her gun at my chest, her face hard like stone. “Red’s little whore. I’ve been waiting on this moment.”

  Chapter 18

  Halftrack

  I pulled Cora against my chest, locking my arms around her tightly. The moment she had gotten free, time had literally stood still. All I could picture was a bullet in her head … her falling to the ground.

  The fear had been more than I could handle.

  “Let me go!” Cora screamed, clawing at my arms, drawing blood with her fingernails. “Let me go!”

  I wasn’t about to do that. “She can be trusted,” I growled at Mama Bear, who still had her gun trained on Cora. The split had been rough on the older woman, the exhaustion lining her face, but she still commanded authority even without the Hell’s Bitches’ patch on her person. I could see the nods of respect for the former second-in-command, but it had been obvious in the exchange between Widow Maker and Mama Bear that she still wasn’t welcome in the president’s eyes.

  She slid her gun further north until it was pointed at my head. “Out of the way, Halftrack. I will shoot you if I need to.”

  “You can’t go around shooting Jesters,” someone called out, rewarded with a grumble amongst those that were gathered. “It’s against code.”

  She gave them a cruel smile. “I can and I will if I need to. I have no code anymore, remember?”

  I turned from her, not caring if she had the gun pointed at me. Hell, she wasn’t gonna be the last. Cora still fought against my grasp, but I couldn’t let her go. I had no idea what she would do. “I demand a trial. This isn’t how we deal with shit like this.”

  Widow Maker ran a hand through her long hair, her eyes still on Mama Bear. “Halftrack’s right. If he’s willing to vouch for her, then she deserves a trial. Even you can’t disagree with that.”

  Mama Bear relented, waving her gun at me. “You better be glad I always liked you, Halftrack. I could squeeze off two shots right now and we would all be downing shots in ten minutes in your memory.”

  I gave her a grim smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

  A spark of laughter filled her eyes. “Fine. I will allow the trial, but if she’s found guilty, I dole out the punishment.”

  “Fine,” Widow Maker sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I’ll go get Chains.”

  Everyone watched as the Bitches’ president pushed her way through the crowd and I took the moment to pull Cora to the side, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet when I saw the tears tracking down her face. Taking her face in my hands, I forced her to look at me. “This shit is serious,” I said softly. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

  She swallowed. “They shot her for no fucking reason.”

  I didn’t know if I necessarily believed that anymore. While Mama Bear was ruthless, she was fair, and she wouldn’t execute an innocent person for shits and giggles. “She’s dead, but you aren’t. I’ll protect you the best I can, but I can’t if you don’t tell me everything.”

  “I’ve told you everything,” she stated. “I just want to go home, Clayton.”

  Yeah, I did too. “Stay beside me and don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Mama Bear,” Chains said loudly as he entered the circle, glancing at the dead girl at her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m closing a loop,” she stated, tucking her gun back in the holster. “This shit with the cartel has been going on long enough. I’m taking it in my own hands, starting with these two. But Halftrack says he can vouch for her, so I’ll let the clubs decide.”

  Chains looked over at me. “Halftrack, that true?”

  I nodded. “She can be trusted.”

  He rolled his shoulders, clearly bothered by the situation. “Well then, state your case so we can get out of this heat.”

  Mama Bear nodded. “I’ve been hired to watch that bar for months now.”

  “By who?” Widow Maker interrupted, her hands on her hips.

  “By a private party interested in the comings and goings there,” she shot back. “That bar is a distribution center for the cartel, and we have been marking the shipments of fentanyl.”

  “And Cora brought us the list of deliveries,” I added, hoping to bolster the support of the rest in attendance. “She took a huge risk by doing so without us asking.”

  “That’s true,” Widow Maker admitted, giving me a nod. “Cora has given us no reason to think she’s working with the cartel.”

  Mama Bear smirked. “Well, did she tell you how she’s working for Red? And I don’t mean as a bartender either.”

  Widow Maker’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  Cora stiffened beside me and I had the feeling that she hadn’t been completely truthful with me. Why the hell not? I had personally asked her so that I could protect her, and now I was concerned it might cost us a shootout where neither of us would get out alive.

  Shit.

  “She’s his whore,” Mama Bear said triumphantly. “I saw her fuck one of the cartel’s men with my own eyes. What’s to say he’s not sampling his own goods from time to time?”

  Widow Maker marched over, grabbing Cora by her arm. “Is this true?”

  “No,” Cora whis
pered. “It’s not true. I’ve never slept with him.”

  Widow Maker looked back at Mama Bear. “Explain.”

  Mama Bear crossed her arms over chest. “He’s been pimping her out.”

  I felt my chest crack open at her accusation, remembering what Cora had told me just a few hours ago. No, Cora would have told me that little piece of information.

  “Halftrack,” Chains’ voice boomed out over the murmur of the crowd. “A word.”