Betrayed

  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.

  Betrayed 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

  BETRAYED

  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

  Epilogue

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  BETRAYED

  Chapter 1

  Veronica

  Tony heaved one more time before collapsing on top of me, his sweaty body sticking uncomfortably to mine. I forced myself to think of another place than this, that I wasn’t lying on a cheap comforter under the heavy biker but instead somewhere warm, like Florida. I would be enjoying the sun as it soaked into my skin, cushioned by sugary white sand, without a care in the world.

  But that was just a silly dream, a way for me to escape what was the reality of my life.

  “Fuck,” Tony breathed by my ear, his sweat pooling against my chest. There was going to come a day when the overweight biker keeled over from a heart attack, but I could only hope and pray it wasn’t while I was under him. “You never fail to disappoint.”

  “Just doing my job,” I muttered. “Can you get off of me? I can’t breathe.”

  He grunted but complied, pushing off of me and standing, his dark eyes raking down my naked body. I rolled my eyes as his hand went to his cock, sitting up on the bed.

  “Your time is over Tony.”

  “I could go again.”

  I ignored him, pushing myself off the bed and brushing past him. I didn’t like to linger with any of them. That wasn’t my job. My job was to fuck them and leave them, moving on to the next one without so much as a thought to what I was doing. After four years, I had programmed myself to do just that.

  “Hey, come on Veronica,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me against him, his fetid breath causing my stomach to roll. While Tony wasn’t my favorite, he didn’t leave bruises like the rest, and if he wasn’t so big, I might have actually enjoyed the act. “We’ve got time for another round.”

  I pushed at his chest.

  “You can’t afford another round. Now let me go.”

  His cell vibrated on the table and he pushed me away with a growl, grabbing at it.

  “Go get cleaned up and get the hell out, then. I got work to do.”

  “Gladly,” I said, making my way to the bathroom where I had left my bag.

  Grabbing a wet cloth, I cleaned myself up, wiping down my body to get rid of Tony’s smell. I was a few hours from being able to shower the day’s stench, but the wet cloths I kept in my bag did enough of a trick to help me forget.

  Throwing the cloth in the trash, I stared at the woman in the mirror. The same freckled face stared back at me, with a riot of red curls that were thrown over my shoulder. I hated my long hair. It was thick and impossible to tame even on a good day, but the request – no, the demand – was that the guys liked it long, so I was unable to cut it the way I wanted to. Wide green eyes fringed by strawberry lashes seemed tired, impossibly tired, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

  I had a job to do.

  I gathered my clothes and slipped into them, before stepping into my boots. Today’s outfit: a pair of tight leather pants that hung low on my hips, complimented by a halter top that showed the expanse of my back. Some days I wore heels, but not today. My left ankle was killing me from a fall the night before and the boots seemed to protect it better.

  I fluffed out my curls and, after a few swipes of gloss, I grabbed my bag and stepped out, stopping short of the doorway as I heard my brother’s voice fill the air. Damn Tony. He couldn’t hear worth a damn, so he was forever putting his calls on speaker.

  “I told you to be ready tomorrow,” my brother said angrily as Tony wiped his face with his hand. “Screw this shipment up and I will gut you.”

  “I won’t screw it up,” Tony said, his hand shaking as he held the phone. “I know how important this is.”

  “Important?” my brother repeated. “This heroin shipment will bring millions to the club.”

  “I know, I know,” Tony reiterated.

  I edged along the doorway, mentally filing away everything I was hearing. Another heroin shipment. The Blood Eagles would be itching to get their hands on that kind of money.

  Tony swung his gaze over to me.

  “I got to go,” he said before ending the call.

  I straightened my shoulders and held out my hand.

  “My money, now.”

  His eyes grew hard as he threw the phone on the bed, but I refused to cower. The retaliation on his end would be ten times worse if he didn’t pay the club whore.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he finally said, reaching for his pants. “Next time I want double.”

  I laughed as he handed me a wad of bills, not bothering to count them.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Get out,” he said, turning his back on me.

  I shouldered my bag and walked out of the room, stuffing the bills into my pocket. Tony would get over it and next week I would be back in his little hovel of a room, doing the same thing. Despite the fact I hated having sex with him, Tony was a regular customer, and he paid exactly what he was supposed to pay without giving any lip.

  I couldn’t say the same thing for the rest.

  The sun was shining as I stepped outside, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes as I started down the street. I fucking hated my life. The dreams about being on a beach… that was all crap. For four years I had been servicing the members of the Blood Eagles, passed around from member to member until they all became a blur. I had done things I wasn’t proud of, but now taking the money didn’t even bother me. I needed the money.

  Not that it was helping.

  Clearing my throat, I thought about my brother, Roger. He was the reason I was in this mess to begin with, selling his only sister to the club to settle his own debts. I had gone from a high school graduate with college on her mind to a prostitute. I had fought – oh, I had fought – the first few months. The bruises, the broken bones… they had taught me a valuable lesson quickly. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  So, I’d taken matters into my own hands. I’d started charging for my services, haggling with Hector Blackwood and the others on a price to buy my freedom and working on that
goal. The problem was, they enjoyed changing their minds constantly. Just when I thought I was close on getting out, they would raise the price and I was stuck once more. I hated it. I hated them. I hated my brother.

  I turned down the alley, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders as I walked toward the small crappy apartment they let me have on the backside of the clubhouse. It was the only place I could get away for a while, forget who I was and how my life had ended up.

  But they were underestimating me as well. They might see me as a whore who did nothing but spread her legs, but I had been gathering their secrets for years.

  And now I was ready to sell them to their enemy in my own bid of freedom.

  Chapter 2

  Colby

  I adjusted the collar of my shirt, looking in the mirror to make sure it was laying flat. I wasn’t keen on wearing the dress shirt, but today was a special day, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin it for Branden and Laura.

  The collar looked fine, so I reached for my vest, sliding the leather on over the dress shirt, and ran a hand through my hair. Of course, today wasn’t a normal wedding for the couple, not when they were surrounded by a large group of bikers, myself included. My brother was the president of the Frontier Reapers, a clubhouse that all of us had been members of, my younger brother included, for years. We were a family, a brotherhood that would only be separated by death, and I was proud to wear this vest today.

  A hand clapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see a grinning Jaxon standing behind me. Jaxon was the youngest of the three brothers and by far the most aggravating.

  “I can’t believe that Brandon is biting the bullet today.”

  I grinned.

  “What? You don’t like Laura?”

  Jaxon shook his head.

  “I like her just fine. Don’t go spreading rumors that I don’t. She will cut off my balls.”

  Laughing, I gripped his shoulder with my own hand.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’m just glad Branden is happy.”’

  And he was. The grin he’d had on his face since the day she agreed to marry him couldn’t be wiped off.

  “Me too,” Jaxon admitted, dropping his hand from my shoulder. “I just always thought you would be first to get hitched.”

  His words hit me square in the chest, a turbulence of emotions running through my body. It wasn’t because of his words, but of the meaning behind them.

  “I’m going to check on Branden,” Jaxon was saying, oblivious to my inner struggle. “We got ten minutes.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’ll be right there.”

  Jaxon walked out of the small room we were getting dressed in, and I blew out a breath, staring hard at my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back didn’t look ruffled on the inside, freezing up every time he thought about what could have been.

  No, the man staring back was a hard-ass, a man that loved the women and tattooing, riding his bike with very little cause for concern for his own life.

  But inside, I didn’t feel like that. I woke up this morning knowing that at some point during the day I would think about her, think about the life I was supposed to have.

  “Shit,” I muttered, running a hand roughly through my hair.

  Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from participating in this wedding, but it wasn’t the place I really wanted to be. Hell, I wanted to get rip-roaring drunk, which I planned to at the reception. I wanted to forget the pain, like my heart had been ripped from my chest.

  All because I had dared to think I could have a normal fucking life.

  Finding a chair, I sank into it. I had to get myself together before I stood next to Branden, or he would know what was up. He knew the entire story, one that had spilled out after a shit ton of alcohol and a few damn tears I didn’t like to remember. It was easy to hide the inward pain, pain that hadn’t been caused just by her.

  I wanted to push the people in the gateway in front of me, eager to get off the damn plane and into the arms of the one person that could give me the comfort I needed. Tonight, I would spend some much-needed time with Amelia, my fiancée, and tomorrow we would drive to Washington for Paul’s funeral. My heart ached, but I pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his death. He was gone and if he knew the tears I had cried for his ass, he would laugh in my face.

  Still, it didn’t seem right that Paul was really gone. We had met in boot camp and had become fast friends over our love for fast bikes and loose women. When he had found out that we would be stationed in Iraq together, the fucker had brought enough posters of both to decorate our tent. I had confided in him about my entire life, my brothers, Amelia, everything. In turn, he had told me about the woman he was going to propose to when we got back.

  And now he was arriving in a damn wooden box.

  My throat closed up as I finally made it through the gate and down the escalator, searching for a familiar redhead that I could hold in my arms. Amelia and I had been together since high school, and before this tour I had put a ring on her finger, promising her the damn white picket fence and shit once I returned. While I still had a year left on this tour, they had allowed me to come home for Paul’s funeral for a few days, three days that I planned to spend with her.

  The baggage claim came into view and I spotted Amelia near the entrance, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I could almost smell her perfume, I was so fucking close.

  She turned, and I grinned, shouldering the duffel bag as I approached her.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes babe.”

  “Colby,” she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “I-I’m glad you made it.”

  I frowned. Hell, this was not how I planned for this to go. I fully expected to be kissing her before we made it out of the airport, potentially fucking her in the car before we got on the highway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked away and I felt my chest cave in.

  “Maybe we should get in the car.”

  I dropped my bag, reaching for her arm.

  “What is it? Is it my family?”

  God, I couldn’t take any more bad news today.

  Amelia shook her head, drawing in a deep breath before she looked at me. It was then I saw the tears in her eyes, the same eyes that I dreamed about at night.

  “I-I didn’t want to do this here, but I can’t lie to you. I… there’s someone else, Colby. I’m so sorry.”

  “What the hell?” I asked, my voice surprisingly calm and nothing like the rage that was building.

  I couldn’t have heard her right. I had been protecting my ass, keeping it alive overseas, and she had been fucking someone else? Oh hell, no!

  She took a step back, covering her stomach with her arm. I noticed that the ring was missing from her finger, the one that she had picked out herself.

  “I’m pregnant, Colby. I-I love him.”

  I didn’t want to ask who. Hell, it didn’t matter at this point. Guilt was written all over her face and she was carrying his bastard.

  “Fuck you,” I bit out, picking up my bag. “I hope you are fucking happy.”

  She colored as people started to stare.

  “Colby, I don’t want it to be like this between us.”

  I gave her a harsh laugh.

  “Babe, there is no us anymore.”

  I jolted out of the memory, swearing that I’d let it sneak up on me once again.

  Fuck Amelia. I had gone to Paul’s funeral and pushed Amelia out of my mind…

  Out of my heart had taken a lot longer, and I had nearly killed myself in an attempt to do so.

  Standing, I forced myself to walk toward the door. I was going to get my big brother married then find some random chick for hot reception sex later on. Fuck that white picket life and ex-fiancées who knew how to kick a man when he’s down.

  Chapter 3

  Veronica br />
  I shouldn’t be here.

  The thought ran through my mind more than once as I stood in the corner of the room, watching the rest of the party-goers enjoy the reception. The funny thing was, not many of them had even given me a second glance, and I had stayed largely away from those that would know my face, just in case.

  Truthfully, I didn’t want to ruin the president of the Frontier Reapers wedding day. No, that was the last thing I wanted to do, and he had looked so damn happy with his new bride that I had thought about leaving just so I wouldn’t. I wasn’t one to make a big scene, more comfortable in private than I was in the limelight. If the wrong person recognized me, they would make some sort of scene about my being there and ruin all my plans of getting away from the Blood Eagles.