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  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.

  Forsaken copyright @ 2019 by Brook Wilder and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. 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 FRONTIER REAPERS MC TRILOGY

  DECEIVED

  BETRAYED

  FORSAKEN

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FORSAKEN

  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

  OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER

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  FORSAKEN

  Chapter 1

  Faye

  I drew in a breath and gripped the steering wheel, feeling a rush of emotion flood my body. I was here. I had done it.

  I had finally made it to my father.

  There was very little elation that could even remotely push past the nervousness I was feeling right now. What if he kicked me out? What if he took one look at me and decided that I wasn’t worthy to be with him? I had nowhere to go, no money to get myself there. The little money I had from the waitressing jobs had been used on the gas to get here, and now I was stranded.

  I had no one to turn to other than my father, the man who had been absent for most of my life. My mother was dead, and the belongings sold off so that I would not remember the hell she put me through the last ten years of my life. I wanted nothing to remind me of the nights I had kept her from choking on her own vomit, the men she had brought around that had me locking myself in my bedroom to escape their leering eyes.

  No, she hadn’t been a mother to me in a long, long time, and I was glad she was dead, more so that she had finally escaped her demons from the alcohol abuse than anything else.

  But now, I had to focus on this meeting with my father. If I botched this up, I was looking at no future. A girl like me would be forced to do things that I wasn’t planning on doing, and no amount of throwing around my father’s name was going to do any good if he didn’t back up the claim. He would likely disown me if he didn’t accept me today, and I would be shunned by this biker community.

  That could not happen.

  Blowing out that breath, I opened the door and climbed out, the cold cutting through my thin layer of clothing. Winter was coming, and it would mean misery for months on end. I was looking forward to it like one would look forward to a root canal. I hated the snow and the cold.

  The clubhouse sat on a hill, with the yard littered with bikes of all kinds. Bikers with the emblazoned crest of the club on their vests milled about in the yard and music drifted out of the open door, along with the occasional spill of laughter. Having grown up around an alcoholic mother, the scene was somewhat comforting and not at all scary.

  I had been ten when my mom told me who my father really was, showing me pictures of her and him back in the day before ‘the mistake’ was made. Yeah, you heard me right. I was the mistake that had ruined her relationship with the Blood Eagles’ president, Hector Blackwood. It seems that it was unpopular to have a kid in a biker gang, and he had all but kicked her out when he had found out she was pregnant with me. On more than one occasion she had ranted against him while drunk off her ass, yelling to the sky as if he could hear her giving him hell on the other side of the state. I suspected she had loved the limelight that had come with being his whore, and I had ruined it all for her.

  But being the naive kid I had been, I had asked to go see my father. I had wanted to see the man that was supposed to be there in my life, see if he really was the bad guy he was touted to be. Mom had said no immediately, but I had worn her down and eventually she had called him.

  The next day, some gruff biker had shown up on her doorstep, and while I thought he was there to collect me it turned out he wasn’t. The shred of decency my father did have was that I was his kid and he didn’t want his enemies to use me in a pawn game. So, Moose (yes that was his name), moved in to our house. For years, he kept me sane when my mom was losing it, providing for me as a father would.

  I started to love the scruffy man, and the night my mom died I begged him to take me to my father.

  “Please,” I cried, grabbing the front of his vest, a piece of him that he never took off. “Please take me to him! I need him!”

  Moose grabbed my arms and pulled me away, sorrow written all over his face.

  “Baby girl, you don’t want no part of what your father is doing. You’re too good for that place and for him.”

  I balled up my fists, my nails biting into my skin.

  “You promised I could see him one day. You promised you would take me to him.”

  He shook his head, his eyes mournful.

  “You need to bury your mamma and move on. Your daddy… things are bad back home, and if you go there, you will get killed. Faye. Leave him be.”

  I hadn’t listened and disappeared for a week until I was sure he had gone back to my father to report my mom’s death. Then I had sold all I could, cremated my mom, and drove here, to this moment that was going to forever change my life.

  Squaring my shoulders, I started up the path, ignoring the looks I got as I did so. My short brown hair and freckles made me seem innocent, but any smart fucker could look into my eyes and see the hardness there.

  I was far from innocent.

  But I had come dressed to impress, my jeans molding to my body like a second skin, the halter top allowing my breasts to move freely under the scrap of clothing. I wasn’t small by any means and often used my assets, including my boobs, to get what I wanted. Sometimes I gave more if I had an inkling to do so. My body was a weapon, a valuable one.

  “Hey darling. Where are you going?”

  I turned to see a short biker walking my way, his bald head glistening in the sun.

  “Hi there, sunshine. Are you talking to me?”

  He smiled, his eyes roaming down my body with a hungry gaze. “I sure am. Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Let me show you around.”

  “That’s very sweet of you.” I walked toward him, keeping my smile on my face and attempting not to show my irritation.

  The biker’s eyes dilated as I drifted my hand up his arm, sliding it down the front of his vest. I could feel the bulge of his gun just inside his vest, my breath hitching as I formulated my plan. I wanted to give my father a welcome he would never forget, and this biker was going to help me.

  His hand reached for my hip, and I reacted, sliding my hand inside his vest and grabbing his gun quickly, leveling it at his chest.

  “What the hell?” He demanded as I cocked back the hammer.

  “I’m not your darling,” I said, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Nor did I tell you could touch me.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” he sneered, looking at the gun. “No one touches my gun.”

  I smirk
ed. “Go on, try. You’ll be dead before you can take your first step.”

  “Faye.” The voice reverberated through me and I almost lost control of the gun.

  “Moose.”

  “This man bothering you?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I answered with a laugh as the bulky biker came into view. “Should I shoot him?”

  Moose gave the man a critical eye. “I don’t wanna clean up blood today. Come on, I know what you are here for.”

  Chapter 2

  Jaxon

  “This is not the right way to do this, and you know it. It will be a slaughter of our brothers, our families, our town. Once we start this war, we will never get out of it.”

  I shifted in my chair, wishing that I could get out of the room and on my bike. All this talk was getting us nowhere. It was time to show our power to the Blood Eagles, not sit around like old women and talk about it.

  And it was all because of Brendan. Ever since the day he got married, he had grown soft in his dealings with the rival biker gang, no doubt thinking about his wife and unborn child in the mix. I didn’t blame my brother. He did have more to lose than I did, but that was no excuse to allow the Eagles to run all over us.

  Just in the last week, three of our brotherhood had been jumped at a local bar, presumably by the Blood Eagles, and landed – all three – in the hospital. Yesterday, someone had burned down one of the businesses that was supported by the Frontiers.

  It was only a matter of time before someone got killed, and I did not want that blood on my hands.

  “We have no choice,” I growled, looking my brother in the eye. “What if it’s Laura next time? Or Colby?”

  Brendan’s jaw clenched, and I knew I had hit a sore spot.

  “They will never get to our family, Jax. I would die before that happened.”

  I shook my head, a chuckle escaping my lips.

  “But you refuse to wage war on the very club that nearly killed your wife.”

  Brendan slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing in the small room. As president of the Frontier Reapers, Brendan held a great deal of power over what the club did and didn’t do. I had moved up in the ranks in the last few months, after our brother Colby had moved to Florida with his girlfriend and given up his position as Vice President. I was Brendan’s right-hand man, yet at the moment we were more like enemies.

  “I don’t need to be reminded of what I almost lost,” he was saying, anger radiating from every pore. “But I will be damned to hell if I pull this trigger and we lose everything, Jax.”

  “Where is your backbone?” I sneered, pushing Brendan to the edge. “This needs to happen Brendan. You and I both know it.”

  Brendan rubbed a hand over his face wearily, lines of exhaustion evident. For months we had discussed what to do with the Blood Eagles, counteracting their attacks with some of our own, but never in a sense where someone might die. Now they had ramped up their attacks, and our club was taking the brunt of their assault.

  “I know, dammit, I know. But we are talking lives, Jax. Surely that has to weigh heavily on you.”

  I stood, bracing my arms on the desk.

  “It does, but I don’t want us to be on the losing end of this war. The guys are ready, I’m ready. It’s you that keeps questioning what we need to do. Let us go and tear into them, stop them before they have a chance to wipe us off the face of the earth.”

  Indecision flickered in Brendan’s eyes, and I knew he was considering my proposal. I was itching to have the blood of a Blood Eagle on my hands, one in particular that would cripple the biker gang.

  Hector Blackwood.

  Hector was the president of the Blood Eagles and the mastermind behind the attacks. I was certain of it. There was no love lost between my family and the president, especially Brendan and Laura. Hector had nearly killed Laura, and I thought that Brendan would want revenge.

  But it sounded like my older brother wanted peace.

  “No. I won’t allow it.”

  I exhaled, disappointment swirling in my bones.

  “Well, then. I’m sorry as well.”

  Brendan blew out a breath, his eyes on me.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Jax. I won’t bury a brother before me.”

  I didn’t answer, instead pushing my way out of the office and out into the commons area of the club. The buzz of discussion amongst the loud music barely registered as I stalked through the space, giving the eat-shit look to anyone that dared meet my eye. I couldn’t believe that Brendan was laying down on this. We were a fucking biker gang, not some pansy club that did rides and shit.

  Every man in this club knew the implications of being a Blood Eagle, and every one of them was ready to die for their club.

  My mood only grew worse as I stepped out into the sun, feeling the cold chill of the wind in the air. Winter was coming, which meant months of cold-ass weather and snow, hindering our ability to ride. I hated winter.

  Hell, there wasn’t much I did like nowadays. Without Colby here, I had no one to back me up, no one to give Brendan any reason to change his mind.

  No, I was on my damn own.

  Locating my bike, I swung my leg over the seat and fired it up, letting it idle for a few moments. Fuck Brendan. Fuck the peace talks. Hector needed to pay for what he had done to my family, to my club, and if I was the only one willing to do so, then so be it.

  It wasn’t like I had anything to live for or anyone to go home to. Brendan had Laura. Colby was gone.

  At least I wouldn’t die lying down.

  I backed the bike out of the space and pulled out onto the highway, gunning it toward my destination. I had to catch Hector off guard. I couldn’t just drive up to the club and take him. I would be dead before I hit the doorway.

  No, I had to do something unexpected, something he wouldn’t see coming.

  And then, maybe, we would get some retribution from the pain the Blood Eagle president had caused our family and our club.

  A grin split my face. I was going to show my brother that he was wrong in his thinking. There was only one way to stop this war, and it was to cut the head off the snake.

  And I would do it with capturing Hector Blackwood.

  Chapter 3

  Faye

  I was about to meet my father.

  My palms were sweating, and I felt slightly nauseous, but I didn’t let my anxiety show as Moose escorted me through the clubhouse. It wasn’t what I thought it would look like, nothing more than a concrete building full of sweaty biker men and a crude looking bar with a tired looking woman manning it. Men were everywhere, lounging on broken down couches that had seen better days, watching T.V.s that were mounted on the walls. There were a few women milling about, and their clothing choices told me they were here for the money and nothing else.

  I recognized those glassy stares, having seen them more than once from my own mother.

  “That was some stunt you pulled out there,” Moose murmured close to my ear, his hand on my elbow giving me the strength that I could do with. “Didn’t I tell you to stay?”

  I gave a small laugh, grateful that he was here.

  “Don’t you know I never listen?”

  “That is an understatement,” he chuckled, squeezing my elbow. “He’s not going to be happy to see you, Faye. You came at a bad time.”

  I doubted any time was a really good one. But I was here, and I wasn’t going to back out.

  Moose guided me toward the back of the clubhouse, and I steeled against my nerves as we entered a small room. Behind the desk sat a man with a woman in his lap that was probably no older than I was. His hand was caressing her hips, and it was obvious what she was doing, though they were still fully clothed.

  My cheeks burned as Moose cleared his throat, getting their attention.

  “Boss, there’s someone here you should meet.”

  My father’s angry gaze moved from Moose to me, surprise f
iltering his expression.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I came to join you and the club,” I announced as he pushed the girl off his lap, nearly sending her to the floor.

  She righted herself and gave me a dirty look as she pushed past us, clearly mad that I had interrupted her chance with the president.

  Hector looked at me hard, taking in my appearance and likely attempting to see the resemblance. While I had more of my mom’s looks than his, I had his mouth and eyes.

  There was no doubt this man was my father.

  Finally, after a few tense moments, he leaned back in his chair.

  “Well I guess Moose was right. You are my kid. Congratulations.”