Savage Angel: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Rough Jesters MC Book 1) 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.

  Savage Angel 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 ROUGH JESTERS MC SERIES

  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

  SAVAGE ANGEL

  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

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  A Word from Brook Wilder

  OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER

  SAVAGE ANGEL

  Chapter 1

  Kristina

  I took a slow, deep breath as I watched the caravan rumbling up the road through the scope of the gun, feeling the thrill of anticipation shoot through my body. While they were still a few miles out, I knew the time to attack was drawing close. After three hours of waiting for them to arrive, it was about to be on.

  The dry desert heat had become quite annoying, and I longed for a good, cold beer to wet my parched lips. I’d have one once this was over and done with. Tonight, we would celebrate our victory and enjoy our pause before the war started that would no doubt come barreling our way after this fallout.

  As the president of the Hell’s Bitches bike club, it was my job to make the other club’s day a bad one. I reveled in the fact that with each human trafficking shipment thwarted, some high-ranking member of that club was somewhere, throwing something and cursing my name and my club’s.

  I enjoyed bringing that kind of anger to a bunch of men. Actually, it was my life’s goal.

  And I was about to bring it to the one man I wished would drop off the face of the earth.

  “You’re thinking about him.”

  I turned to my second in command, arching a brow. “What?”

  Mama Bear gave me a look, a spark of laughter in her pale blue eyes. Opal was her real name, though no one had the balls to call her that to her face lest they end up with a knife in their gut. She had knife skills I’d never seen before, and rumor was she learned from her daddy before they put him away in federal prison for killing a man.

  We all knew her nickname was something she was quite proud of; Mama Bear was the only mom in the club; with two kids who were the apples of her eye. For that reason, I didn’t like to take her on these missions.

  She had something to live for. The rest of us, including me, didn’t.

  But right now, I hated the fact that she could read me like a book. “I’m not thinking about anyone,” I said defiantly before turning back to the scope. “You need to get a hobby.”

  She laughed, her leathers scraping across the dirt and rocks as she got into a better position for the impending attack. “You’re so full of shit, Kris. What you need is a pretty boy in your bed tonight. That will make you forget all about Rex.”

  My chest ached at the sound of his name, the same way it had for the last five years. I used to believe that old saying about time healing old wounds, but it didn’t hold true with this wound. My pain did nothing but fester and I doubted I would ever get over the heartbreak. “My bed is always warm. Yours on the other hand…”

  “Is cold as ice,” she finished for me, a cackle escaping her. “Just the way I like it these days. I ain’t got time to deal with a man. Those kids keep me busy enough.”

  “That and you would probably end up pregnant again,” I teased, watching the caravan draw closer.

  Mama Bear sighed. “You’re probably right. Two’s more than enough.”

  I refocused the scope, thinking about our banter. Mama Bear knew me better than anyone, having been there from the beginning. I’d started Hell’s Bitches five years ago after Rex and I had our falling out. I was out to prove a club could be more than just a bunch of burly men riding on their bikes, breaking their women’s hearts.

  Okay, maybe only my heart had been broken.

  But still, a woman could be just as tough as a man and I had proved it over and over again. My club was fifty strong, all women who could ride, shoot, and knife like the best of them. I personally interviewed and initiated my own prospects, never wanting to have someone who couldn’t handle their shit trying to back me up in a fight.

  I had some of the strongest women in Texas.

  Seeing that the caravan was approaching the first pick point, I pulled my gun back and got to my feet. “It’s time. Let’s ride out.”

  There was a flurry of activity as I climbed onto my bike and slowly maneuvered it down the rocky outcropping we had been using as the lookout point. The hard leather seat burned me through my jeans. My bike was my baby, the only present I hadn’t parted with since that day five years ago. I probably should have sold the damn thing; maybe that was the reason I couldn’t put the past behind me, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I loved my bike. The seat was custom made, the paint scheme a swirl of greens, golds, and blues; all of my favorite colors. I honestly didn’t even notice the small initials that were intertwined on the tank anymore, so small anyone else wouldn’t notice it.

  I knew they were there and what they had stood for.

  Shaking out of the thought, I slid the bike behind a huge boulder with the rest of the women, grabbing my gun in the process. Heavily armed with this one, I wondered when the Pacific Cartel would double up on their security considering this was our fifth hit this month alone. Surprisingly, there were no Rough Jesters in attendance, which made me worry about an ambush. While we’d set up checkpoints all along the route and each one had come out clean, I still had this nagging sensation someone was out there, lurking in the shadows.

  I held up my hand as the rumbling grew louder, noting the drone that followed the truck at a distance. What the hell was that thing for anyway?

  Well, at least Rex would have a front seat to see me take down another one of the runs.

  With a smile on my face, I pulled out my pistol from the waistband of my jeans and checked the rounds, ensuring nothing had changed from the last time I’d checked it.

  This was the moment I craved, the one that brought me all kinds of feels. It was also the moment I thought Rex and I had shared t
ogether. I thought we had understood each other and connected on the same wave length.

  Boy I had been wrong all the way around. Rex didn’t want me on the same wave length as him. He had wanted me to be the pretty girl sitting on his lap or waiting in the wings for the ‘men’ to come back from handling business.

  Well, I was about to show him yet again that he had been wrong on both accounts. I wasn’t about to waste my skills over being some man’s property. I wasn’t just a pretty face.

  I was the Widow Maker. “Let’s do this.”

  The road exploded in front of the truck and it screeched to a halt, giving us enough time to surround it before they even knew what was going on. I wrenched open the door to the driver side, shooting the driver before he had a chance to pull his own gun, the bullet hitting him dead center between the eyes. Blood sprayed against the passenger window, but I didn’t even bat an eye. “Cab’s clear.”

  “Road’s clear,” Eileen ‘Siren’ Vaughn, called out, her voice floating in the breeze. She and some of the other women had scouted the checkpoints earlier. Siren was my road captain, though looking at her you wouldn’t have expected her to be part of a women’s bike club. The other women teased her endlessly about her dainty looks, but beneath the sweet and innocent face was a hellcat with claws to match.

  I straightened my shoulders, holding my gun to my side. “Let’s see what we have then.” Cautiously, I approached the back of the truck, waiting for the moment men would pour out of the back and catch us off guard.

  When it didn’t happen, I yanked up the sliding door, surprised to see it packed full of crates, no doubt full of drugs and guns bound for Mexico. Another shipment I would sell to fund our cause and our club. I didn’t feel any emotional attachment to the drugs or the guns, knowing I couldn’t stop all the runs that left this place every single day.

  So, I might as well make money off it.

  It was the human trafficking I couldn’t stand. The Pacifica Cartel was into stealing girls, women, and sometimes young boys for the evils of the world who were then sold into private prostitution or thrown onto the street to make money for the cartel.

  I hated it. The one thing I hated more was that the Rough Jesters supported those runs.

  Climbing into the truck, I moved to the back, drawing up short when I saw a person lying on her side amongst the boxes. “Shit,” I said, crouching down to touch her shoulder. The back of the metal truck trapped the dry Texas heat inside making the temperature soar, and there was no telling how long she had been back here, suffering.

  I gently turned her over, not at all surprised to see a beautiful young woman in front of me, her mouth taped shut and her arms tied behind her. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and I tucked my gun back into my jeans, attempting to look non-threatening. “You’re okay. I-we are rescuing you.”

  She blinked rapidly as I reached down and carefully removed the tape from her mouth before pulling out my knife to slice through the ropes tied at her wrists. She flinched, but I didn’t stop sawing through them until they broke free.

  “Can you stand?” I asked, sliding the knife back into the sheath strapped to my thigh.

  “I, yes,” she said, her voice cracking.

  I grabbed her arm gently and helped her to her feet, steadying her as she wobbled a bit. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  The women moved aside, and I jumped down from the truck, then helped her down.

  “Thank you,” she said as someone passed her a bottle of water. “I’m Leigh.”

  “Kris,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Sit on the bumper there and get your bearings. We’ll be pulling out shortly.”

  She nodded, her hands trembling.

  I walked away, blowing out a breath.

  “Why was there only one?” Mama Bear asked as we headed toward the bikes. “That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, you know.”

  “I know,” I admitted, pushing my hair out of my eyes. Though I had it in a messy bun on the top of my head, my bandana had loosened and allowed the wisps at my hairline to stick to my sweaty face. I wasn’t a vain woman by any means, but I cared about my hair. I liked to keep it long; the dirty blonde locks were my trademark. “Someone wanted her across the border. She’s important to someone.”

  “Or she crossed the wrong person,” Mama Bear replied with a sad note in her voice. “At any rate, we will get her back where she belongs.”

  I looked back at the truck and the brains that were splattered all about the cab. “She can ride with me.” While none of us were the least bit squeamish about the sight, I didn’t know who I was dealing with. The realization was unsettling.

  “Got it,” Mama Bear said, pausing long enough to place a hand on my arm. “You all right?”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Get ready to move out.”

  She nodded and walked away, giving me the room I needed to catch my breath.

  I hated this. I hated finding women, innocent women like this, and growing more suspicious with each one that Rex and the Jesters supported it.

  The man I knew, back long ago, would have never allowed this to happen to any woman.

  After all, he had saved me from likely the same fate.

  “Don’t think about it,” I growled at myself, pulling my thoughts together. That Rex, and the person I used to be, were long gone now and had been for many years. After five years, I had grown up and acquired quite a few tats depicting my stories, my own struggles.

  And I’d done it all without him by my side.

  My chest ached again, and I rubbed it absentmindedly, knowing it wasn’t going to help. In my moments of drunken weaknesses, I allowed myself to miss him. I missed his touch, the way he made me feel, and how he’d chased away all my demons.

  I missed the way he smelled, the quirky grin he would give me whenever we were joking around with each other.

  Most of all, I simply missed him.

  “Kris! We’re ready.”

  Shaking out of the thought, I started back to the truck. Forget that shit. I had things that required my attention and lamenting over Rex wasn’t going to help with any of it.

  I joined Mama Bear and Siren at the truck, where Leigh sat drinking water.

  “What do you want us to do with that?” Mama Bear asked, pointing to the drone that still hovered above the truck, watching our every move.

  I grinned and pulled out my gun, aiming for the white speck with its blinking lights. “I got it.”

  I just hoped Rex was watching.

  Chapter 2

  Rex

  I held in a chuckle as the screen went fuzzy and stroked my beard with my fingers. There had been no mistaking who had fired the shot that took down the drone, nor who had interrupted the shipment.

  Kristina was at it again.

  “What are we gonna do?” Corey ‘Ironsides’ Steele, asked as he leaned against the doorway of the monitor room. “That was a message, you know.”

  I looked up at my road captain, allowing a smirk to escape. “She’s been sending messages for years now. Too bad they’re always at the end of a gun.”

  Ironsides chuckled, a glint of humor in his eyes. “At least none of those bullets have killed you yet.”

  “She nearly did,” I answered, remembering the scar just below my collarbone. To this day, I still couldn’t believe she’d shot me. But, it was my own damn fault I’d been there in the first place.

  It was just another piece of our shitty puzzle we still needed to figure out and now that she had stepped over this line, I would have to pull the trigger.

  I was going to have to bring her in. The man she shot today was one of my club members, not to mention she cost me a hell of a lot of money stealing that shipment.

  And I had people to answer to as well. “Round up some boys, we’re going.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Ironsides said, his jaw dropping open. “You’re going to go after her now? Really?”

  I swallowed the bitter taste
in my throat. “I don’t have a choice. She’s crossed a line.”

  “About goddamn time,” Ironsides responded, running a hand over his head. “I thought I’d never hear you say that.”

  That made two of us.

  For five years I’d let Kris and her little gang of women have the upper hand on me and mine, ignoring the jabs that she had chained me down forever, hence my nickname, ‘Chains.’ I took it all in stride, not denying the fact that Kris had a pull over me. “Get the guys together. I want to pull out in ten.”

  “Alright then,” Ironsides said, walking out of the room.

  I sat back in the chair, staring at the screen. I would do what needed to be done. As president of the Jesters, I had to show them we weren’t going to take this lightly.

  No matter how much it pained me to do so.