Broken Beauty: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Rough Jesters MC Book 2) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Broken Beauty copyright @ 2019 by Brook Wilder and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. This is an Advanced Review Copy, and no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  BOOKS IN THE ROUGH JESTERS MC SERIES

  FREE PREQUEL: WIDOW MAKER

  BOOK 1: SAVAGE ANGEL

  BOOK 2: BROKEN BEAUTY

  BOOK 3: CORRUPT HONOR

  BOOK 4: RUINED MERCY

  BOOK 5: SINFUL HAVEN

  BOOK 6: TAINTED DESIRE

  BOOK 7: OUTLAW VIRTUE

  BOOK 8: WICKED LEGACY

  BOOK 9: SHATTERED GRACE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BROKEN BEAUTY

  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

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  A Word from Brook Wilder

  OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER

  BROKEN BEAUTY

  Chapter 1

  Corey

  I peered through the binoculars, looking for a good way in. Casing these joints had become my full-time responsibility lately.

  But I wasn’t complaining; I had a good reason to put myself in this position.

  “What about now?”

  I looked at Chuckler, shaking my head. He was ready to go in guns blazing, as he always was, hating just sitting around, waiting. “Not yet, fucker.”

  “Dammit,” he swore, checking his gun. “I’m ready to take down some Azteca ass.”

  I chuckled. “Be careful with your choice of words there.”

  Chuckler flipped me off. “Fuck you. You know what I mean.”

  Oh, I did. I wanted nothing more than for some Aztecas to meet the bullets in my gun or the end of my fists. I had taken more down these last six months than I had in my entire time with the Rough Jesters. As road captain, I was responsible for leading the club out on raids, though Rex, the Jester’s president, had tried to stop me. He had told me I was too close to these raids, that I was allowing my emotions to show in my work.

  I didn’t fucking care if my emotions showed. I hoped we scared the shit out of them, kept them wondering if we were about to hit. Anyone who escaped our wrath ran back to Cesar Gutierrez, their commander, to give him our calling card.

  The man I wanted to come face to face with.

  I wanted to do more than come face to face with him. I wanted to be locked in a room with him, just for an hour or so, so that I could use him as a punching bag.

  He was the reason I was out here today, and every other day, waiting for my chance. So far, we hadn’t gotten lucky enough to capture Gutierrez, though the Jesters and the Hell’s Bitches had taken a chunk out of his known personal associates over the last six months. Together we had hit every house this side of the border, raiding all we could find and leaving no witnesses. Putting a bullet in each Azteca made me feel like I was doing something other than sitting on my heels at least, but it was also putting a dent in their ability to trade.

  Soon we would flush out that asshole. I could feel it in my bones, and I hoped today was the day it would happen. Six months ago, he took something precious from me, something I hadn’t realized was so precious until it was too late. What had started as just a fringe benefit had turned into something more, something I never thought I would feel again.

  And now she was gone, too. Six months of pain, of blame, of nights I drank myself into a stupor, until Rex told me to get my shit together and find Jessie. He had given me full responsibility of these raids, allowing me to have more leeway than was normal in hopes that I would pull it off.

  So far, though, I hadn’t found her. In all the trashed shitholes we turned upside down, there was no sign of her. There had been plenty of sightings though, more than one Azteca telling me of a brunette in Cesar’s custody.

  It killed me that I knew who had her, but couldn’t find him.

  Blowing out a breath, I looked through the binoculars again, watching. Jessie Vargas was a woman I should have never touched, a woman far too young for my thirty-two-year-old ass. She was the newest one recruited into the Hell’s Bitches, one their president, Kristina, had stated had great potential.

  It had been a chance meeting for us, really, one I hadn’t anticipated.

  ***

  I motioned for another beer, pushing the empty bottle out of the way. The bar was quiet tonight, the tinny sound of the old jukebox in the corner filling the air instead of normal conversation. It seemed everyone had something better to do than get drunk tonight, which was just fine by me.

  After all, I craved solace every once and a while.

  Jimmy placed a beer in my line of sight and I picked it up. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

  “You gonna crash on my couch again tonight, Ironsides?”

  I chuckled. “Maybe.”

  The old bartender shook his head and walked off, wiping down the dinged up bar top as he did so. Jimmy had been serving me beers for years, since my discharge from the army. A veteran himself, he had picked my ass off this barstool more than once, but never asked any questions about my self-destructive tendencies.

  And I knew he wouldn’t ask any questions tonight either.

  “A shot of whiskey.”

  A brunette took the stool next to me, her face contorted in pain. I had never seen her in there before and she barely looked legal, much less old enough to be ordering a shot of whiskey.

  Jimmy walked over and arched a brow. “ID?”

  She made a sound and reached into her back pocket, throwing the plastic card onto the bar top. “I’m old enough.”

  He picked up the card, compared the picture to her face, and then slid it back. “Barely. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  She craned her neck to the side to pop it as she took the license back from him. “Yeah, well, it’s been a shit of a birthday so far, but thanks all the same.”

  Jimmy nodded and I motioned for him to put it on my tab, eyeing the woman out the corner of my eye. She was one of those plain sorts of pretty, with average features and a body to match.

  But there was something tortured in her expression, something that reminded me of myself. “Hey,” I said, tipping my beer to her. “Happy birthday.”

  She gave me a once over as Jimmy sat her shot in front of her. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  I nodded, noting the bandage sticking out from under her sleeve of her shirt. “New tattoo?”

  She looked at me in surprise. “How did you know?”

  I
grinned. “Been there, done that, sweetheart. Except you are doing it in the right order. I got drunk before my first one and threw up all over the artist.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth and answering desire stirred low in my gut. “No you didn’t.”

  “I did,” I said. “He was a tough bastard. Wiped off my puke and kept going like it was nothing.”

  She picked up her shot, holding it up to me. “Well then, here’s to shitty first tattoo encounters.”

  I held up my beer and clinked it against her glass. “And to do overs.”

  ***

  I shook out of the memory, a grin still coming to my face despite everything that had happened. I hadn’t known who she was that day, nor did I ask, and after quite a few drinks, we found ourselves in Jimmy’s spare room, fucking our brains out. She was gone the next morning and I hadn’t seen her again until the day she walked into the gun range.

  Who would have thought the woman whose body I had learned every inch of would end up my trainee? It had been a favor for Rex really, one I had been told to keep under wraps because it was before our two clubs had forged a partnership.

  The day she walked into that gun range had been my downfall. Not only did she smoke the targets that day, but Jessie had also blown me away with her drive to perfection. I tried to stay away, but in a moment of weakness, I kissed her again, thoughts of continuing what we had started in that dingy bedroom in my mind.

  And she had kissed me back.

  From then on, we met as often as we could while keeping the relationship under wraps from both our clubs. The tension between the two MCs had been tight there for a little while, and neither of us wanted to shake things up any more than they already were.

  The problem was, my feelings for Jessie grew serious. It had nothing to do with her becoming a full-fledged member of the Bitches, or the fact that we fit perfectly together between the sheets.

  No, it was because of her quiet nature when no one else was around, the way she curled in my lap and told me of all the shit she had gone through in her life. It was the way she refused to give up even though she had more than enough excuses to do so.

  I hadn’t had feelings for anyone in a long time, closing myself off to my own tortured world. Jessie had brought me out of it, and then I had fucking lost her.

  Grinding my teeth together, I looked at the house, the feeling in my gut telling me to get ready to raid. I wouldn’t stop looking for her, not until I had her in my arms again or I carried her body home. The night of Rex and Kristina’s wedding was the worst night of my life, watching helplessly when they threw Jessie into that van and drove away. The days after were chaos, me tearing into any Azteca stronghold I could find to search for her.

  And I hadn’t stopped since.

  Once I found Jessie, I wasn’t going to let her go. I would protect her, not let my guard down like I did six months ago. I should have been more alert. I should have been more aware that we were all targets and that Cesar would hit us where it hurt the most.

  Placing the binoculars down, I picked up my guns, checking both of them to keep my mind sharp. At some point this would end, and I wasn’t so sure I was ready to face the potential loss when it did.

  I failed Molly. I failed my squad that fateful day in Iraq. And if I couldn’t find Jessie alive, she would be one more person on that list.

  I wasn’t about to let someone else down again.

  Looking over at Chuckler, I met his eyes. “We are after Gutierrez. If you see him, he’s mine.” I gave this speech every time we did a raid, reminding them all that I wanted to be the one who took him in and tortured the hell out of him before I put a bullet between his eyes.

  “Got it,” Chuckler said, motioning to the rest of the crew. A mix of Jesters and Bitches, all wanting to find Jessie and bring her back safely, waited behind us. Her disappearance hit both clubs hard and united the clubs with a common goal.

  I rolled my shoulders and stood, sliding my guns into their holsters under my arms. While I preferred a long-range rifle for my weapon of choice, these raids were far more personal.

  I wanted to be up close with those I would kill, not hiding behind airstrikes and artillery shells.

  I had spent months calling in airstrikes and getting into firefights, leveling neighborhoods and dropping hajjis. My training had been intense, but I quickly rose through the ranks to become one of the best and earned more than my share of kills.

  And it was a rush for a while. The first time I dialed it in—the roar of the jet, the deep bass of explosion, and the bone-shattering shockwave a few second later—had given me a thrill, a reason to get up in the morning.

  All that was before I met Molly, before she took over my life and gave me something more to think about. Just before my last deployment, I started thinking about my future, making sure to put a ring on her finger and giving her my last name so my future would be waiting for me when I came home. I would be getting out and starting that farming job on her father’s farm, and settling into a new path that would carry us for rest of our lives.

  But it all came crashing down when she was killed.

  Clearing my throat, I shook out of the memories that had filled my life with pain until Jessie had fallen into it. With her, the ache had lessened and I could see a future again, one that would be far different than the dreams of my past.

  Until she was taken from me as well. I didn’t know what I had done in my life to deserve this. Maybe it was the kills, the use of force the good Lord above couldn’t fucking stand, but I was starting to think he had it out for me.

  I just wished it had been me instead of Jess that night.

  I hoped we’d come out victorious on one of these raids and I could have Jessie in my arms again. Until then, I wouldn’t quit. I wouldn’t stop. She wouldn’t if it were me out there, and I wasn’t about to abandon her. I wanted a second chance to show her the world wasn’t all shit and that she had made me feel things I hadn’t anticipated.

  “Alright,” I finally said. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 2

  Jessie

  He rolled off me and I fought hard not to shudder, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. I learned the hard way the best reaction was no reaction at all. If I did react in any way, he would use it against me, and I was tired of being abused.

  Drawing the sheet over my body, I listened for the sounds of his clothes rustling, knowing he was finished with me for the night. Sometimes he stayed, sleeping on and off, and fucking me when he was awake. Other times it was a quick fuck, one like tonight’s, that gave me some peace and quiet for the rest of the night.

  I craved those quiet moments, the ones that would allow me to fold inside myself and forget I was a captive.

  Forget that I was a broken shell of myself.

  After six months in Cesar Gutierrez’s company, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I guess I should have been grateful he took a shine to me and kept me as his own personal slave instead of giving me to the rest of the men.

  Some women came into the Aztecas as captives and were handed off to the hungry men, only to disappear a day or two later. I too had been handed off once, when I had seized an opportunity to escape during my first month.

  They moved me from one vehicle to the next, not bothering to tie my arms or my legs like they had in the past. My two guards were drunk off their asses from a party the night before and it hadn’t been hard at all to push past them and run.

  The hot asphalt had burned my bare feet, and my heart pounded with each step. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, hoping I could get away.

  It didn’t work, of course. And I suffered the consequences. Cesar passed me around like a liquor bottle to any man who wanted a turn from sundown to sunrise, until I lost count. Then it was his turn, and he made sure to hurt me.

  Thank God Cesar was smart enough to give me birth control so he could keep me longer or I would be pregnant with a bastard kid of his. A small blessing in the living hell I found my
self in.

  I told myself I could deal with this kind of shit. I had been doing it all my life. I told myself I just had to endure one more day, one more hour, one more second. I told myself help was coming.

  But each day, the thought of never getting out of this place, of having to live this life until I was of no use to Cesar anymore, rooted deeper in my mind. Each day, I knew my time was running out; he’d get bored of toying with me, and then he’d kill me.

  Little by little, he was breaking me. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to give up.

  Swallowing hard, I heard him approach the bed, his ugly face peering over me. I hated that face, hated that tattoo on his neck. I hated the way he looked at me like he owned me, and if I knew I could’ve gotten away with it, I would have killed his ass months ago.

  “Querida,” he said softly, his hand running down the side of my face. “Why do you look at me so?”