Snared (Grizzly 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.

  Snared 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.

  Click here to join my VIP reader club and be the first to know about new releases, free book offers, sales, giveaways, early peeks, cover reveals, and more!

  BOOKS IN THE GRIZZLY MC TRILOGY

  TRAPPED

  SNARED

  TANGLED

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  SNARED

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PREVIEW – TANGLED

  OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER

  GET A FREE BOOK

  SNARED

  Chapter One

  Dom

  Music brings people together—everyone knows that. Even people that want to kill each other every two seconds can bond over some sweet tunes.

  Maybe I’m tooting my own horn here. But when James told me he needed me to start spreading around some good vibes up and down the line of Grizzly-Viper territory, to smooth some of the tension between the two, you bet your ass I was game. Maybe it’s not gonna last. Maybe this is just putting a band aid on a bullet wound.

  Maybe…

  Maybe for now, it’s what we need.

  The Grizzly Bar is packed to the gills with Grizzlies and Vipers. Back on home turf, after a few weeks of stretching my limbs in other territories outside of Tomahawk, it’s good to see the familiar faces after seas of nothing but strangers—though, I do love my fans. What I love more is the attention that’s given to me now. Rapt. Unwavering. It’d be surprising if I didn’t know I was damn good at working a crowd. It’s why James has me doing this.

  Shit has been tense since the Vipers’ meth lab was blown to high hell and kingdom come. Spats back and forth are common, fights break out every other damn day, and on neutral ground, too. The two groups don’t mingle much now, not unless there’s fists and guns involved, despite James’ best efforts. But now? Instead of flying fists and hurled swears, heads bob to the beat of my newest song between generous sips of beer.

  I can’t help but grin against the mic as my voice carries over the conversations, smooth and silky, like a good whiskey. Between the shit that went down with James and Lena, my time has been strapped working to help keep the MC out of too much trouble and bringing on good vibes. Ames told me I needed to get back to doing what I was good and passionate about—leading flies to honey.

  “And you’ll never know who I really am until it’s too late to let me go…”

  The set ends with a sexy guitar accompanying the sultry melancholy of the line. Applause follows, and my grin widens as I take a bow.

  Damn! Sure, is good to be back in my element on home turf.

  I signal to my drummer, Danny, that it’s break time. The gangly little string of a twenty-year-old nods to me, tossing his long, black hair over his shoulder, earning himself a sweet little wolf whistle from the crowd. He’s a good kid. Used to be a Viper, actually. We picked him up after he came into the bar a couple years back, stung out on coke in one of our bathrooms. The Vipers didn’t give a shit about what happened to him; James and I figured there was no use letting someone that young throw away their life because their ‘friends’ were pieces of shit. We got him clean, kept him sober, and found out he was actually pretty musically inclined. He hasn’t touched anything harder that a Marlboro menthol since.

  Hopping down from the stage, as Danny goes off to talk to one of the women in the crowd, I make my way over to the bar. Jukebox music starts up, a nice hit of rock to compliment the music that just played. The crowd is thick as I meander through it, but I manage to find an empty spot to lean against the bar on. Out of habit, I scan the place; new faces blend in with old, and that’s behind the bar, too. James has taken to bouncing, meaning he needed a couple extra people picking up the slack of him no longer slinging around drinks.

  Sure enough, as my eyes move through the crowd, I find him standing over by the door, talking to Lena. I smile; she’s getting bigger by the day now. That round belly of hers continues to be the topic of a hell of a lot of conversation. In a world where people are quick to have their ‘loves’ be shitty or do shitty things to them, the rarity of James and Lena’s commitment to each other is kind of sweet. If I didn’t know how rare it was, it might have had me swearing off my ‘romance is bullshit’ rule for myself…

  “Hey there, singer boy. You gonna order something or you gonna spend your night over there with you head in the clouds?”

  I tear my eyes from James and Lena as he leans down to kiss her. Felicity, one of the bar’s newbies, eyes me with a raised fiery brow. I’ve seen that look more than once from her. Hot as she is, she’s not overly flirtatious. Pretty sure she’d sooner kick me in the dick sometimes than do something fun with it.

  I grin.

  “Yeah. Sorry. A whiskey for me, will ya?”

  Her expression softens.

  “Sure thing.”

  She gets to it, and I lean against the bar as I wait. Lena heads to a table towards the back of the bar, where a woman sits. She’s pretty, with honey blonde hair coming down in thick waves over her shoulders and chocolate brown eyes that avert when they see me staring—or maybe I’m the one catching her staring. Either way, I know the woman. She’s Amy Miller, Abel’s younger sister. She’s a cute little thing I’ve seen around some of my shows, though if she’s at the Grizzly Bar, it means that her brother isn’t too far behind her. Sure enough, as I pull my eyes from Amy and Lena chattering with each other, I find the Officer himself.

  Abel pushes through the doors, looking tired as hell. He comes over to the bar, giving me a nod and a grunt before Felicity slides my whiskey and Abel’s choice of beer across to the both of us.

  “Rough day, Abe?” I ask.

  He takes a generous gulp of beer before nodding.

  “Long,” he gruffs out. “Couple kids getting into a dumb little spat turned into someone pulling a knife and two of them getting stabbed.”

  That doesn’t sound good.

  “Grizzlies and Vipers? Hadn’t heard of any of that from James.”

  “Not Grizzlies and Vipers—wannabes. Teens. They figured they could make some kinda impression on one side or the other.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, it’s not. Doesn’t help that, with Marc out of the picture, there a huge power vacuum. Lyle and Eric probably aren’t making things better. Least of all Lyle, the fucking traitor.”

  Abel spits out the sentiment like it’s snake poison. It’s no secret among us that Lyle—a state police officer and formerly a right hand to Marc—used to be a Grizzly. It’s an ugly, dark st
ain all of us wish we could wash out the sheets. But, you know… Some stains are just too nasty to scrub. Like Abel, Lyle played an instrumental part in keeping things neutral between Grizzly and Viper territories; peace was more important than busting people for something as petty as pot. Problem was, Lyle was never too jazzed about the lack of action peace-keeping brought with it. Soon as he became a state police officer, he was a snake slithering around in the garden looking to corrupt everything in his path.

  “Speak of the Devil…”

  Abel’s gaze is cast to the door, eyes narrowed, and his lips set down in a hard frown. I follow, and see the Snake himself stalking in through the doors with a self-satisfied grin on his face. He knows James can’t keep him from the bar; it would be bad PR, since we’re trying to keep shit from blowing up.

  Doesn’t mean James is happy about it, though. If looks could kill…

  This is gonna be trouble.

  There’s a crackle through the bar as he moves between tables toward some of the Vipers toward the back. He’s not worse for wear, considering his buddy Marc is dead; given what James said about everything that happened, it wouldn’t surprise me if the bastard was happy Marc was out of the way, giving him the chance to swoop in and take the Vipers for himself.

  Abel and I tense as Lyle pauses on his way to the group pf Vipers at the table Amy and Lena are sitting at. Amy shrinks back, obviously uncomfortable. Lena, bless the woman, levels a glare at him as his head tilts, and he laughs. Yeah, this is gonna go South, fast.

  I set my whiskey down and stand straight as Lyle leans over their table, hands on the top and his body much too much in their space. Amy’s eyes widen, and her skin pales, when Lyle reaches out, trailing his fingers over Amy’s jaw. The kicker is when he grabs her chain and forces her head up to look at him.

  Ah, shit!

  Before I can grab him, Abel is pushed off from the bar, headed toward the back. Groaning, I leave too, but instead of following after Abel, I grab Danny and bring him back on stage.

  “Whoa, break’s over already…”

  “Just follow my lead, ‘kay?”

  Danny’s brow raises, but he shrugs and sits there at the drums, ready. Abel’s at the table already, where Amy, Lena, and Lyle are, in Lyle’s face while the bastard smiles at him, saying something fly. People like him—men especially—make me fucking sick.

  “Drumroll, please.”

  My voice carries once more over the mic, making people looks away from Abel and Lyle, their voices starting to rise, and up to the stage. Danny gives a loud roll of the drums, and I continue.

  “Drumroll for Officer Lyle Johnson, who we welcome to the Grizzly Bar but wish to remind about how to act around women.”

  Laughter fills the bar, and Lyle looks to the stage where I stand. He looks like he could rip my head off, but I grin at him and tilt my head.

  “No hard feelings, just keeping the peace, Officer.”

  Lyle scoffs and turns from Abel, Amy, and Lena.

  “Up! Out!” he commands the Vipers around them, who all stand without question.

  That’s a bit concerning, but it’s better than a barfight. I stay on stage as Lyle bumps shoulders with James on the way out, hopping down only when Lyle and the rest of the Vipers are out of the building. James and I converge on Amy and Lena.

  “Are you alright?” James immediately asks of Lena.

  I leave him to his woman, as I put a hand on Abel’s shoulder as he tends to Amy.

  “What’d that fucker say to you?”

  “Nothing important, Abel,” she says quietly. “I don’t want you to get involved in dealing with him…”

  “And I don’t want the likes of Lyle Johnson laying his hands on my baby sister.”

  Seems this little soiree isn’t doing as much to bring a little between Viper and Grizzly after all. People are still shit. Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose. That being said…

  “Hey,” I cut into Abel and Amy’s conversation. “Seriously, though, are you alright? Lyle’s not an easy pill to swallow, even with something to wash him down.”

  Amy cuts scared eyes my way. They’re rimmed red and ready to brim over with tears. Honestly, I feel bad for her; she may be Abel’s sister, but she’s always stayed pretty distanced from the thick of MC dealings. Dealing with Lyle directly obviously spooked the hell out of her.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. I think I’m going to go home, though.”

  She stands, quickly gathering her things.

  Lena kisses James and pulls away from him.

  “I’ll drive you,” she says, no room for Amy to deny her offer. “That way you don’t have to waste money and time on a taxi.”

  Smart girl. No way Amy should leave on her own, just in case.

  “Be careful,” James says, kissing Lena again.

  “You know I will.”

  “Call when you get home.”

  “You know it.”

  “You too, Amy,” Abel speaks up. “I’ll still be here; you won’t be bothering me if you call.”

  Amy gives a small sound of acknowledgement and is quick to leave as she practically runs from the bar. I frown. Never met a woman quite so skittish before.

  “Seriously, she gonna be okay, Abe?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.” Abel ran his hand through his hair. “I just know Amy doesn’t want to be bothered by any of this. It hasn’t been long since…”

  He doesn’t have to say it; James and I know what he’s talking about. There’s a reason Amy doesn’t dip her toes in the MC pool. It’s only been a few years since her husband, Adam, was killed. Signs pointed to Vipers, but as things were there wasn’t enough solid proof to follow the lead, let alone point to a person. Come to think of it, Lyle had handled that case.

  No wonder it’d gone cold.

  “Go on and head out too,” James tells Abel. “Clear your head and stay out of trouble. I know you were going to be security tonight, but with the Vipers out there’s no need.”

  Abel smirks.

  “Since when do you tell the Sheriff what to do?”

  “Since he’s in my bar.”

  Abel chuckles.

  “Right, right.” He turns to me. “Thanks for handling that the way you did. I thought I was gonna rip his head from his shoulders.”

  “Don’t mention it, man. Just don’t let Lyle Johnson get under your skin. He’s not worth it.”

  Chapter Two

  Amy

  “What time period do you need?”

  “Late 18th century, early 19th century—England specifically.”

  “Alright.”

  Jeremy Wade was a regular at the Tomahawk Library and Archive. A local high school student, thickly bespectacled, a gangly frame dwarfed by his baggy clothing, he was a sweet kid, truly, but easily bullied. I never minded helping him when came in; he’s one of the most respectful teenagers I’ve ever met, and he puts my books back where they belong.

  Knowledge of the Dewy Decimal System be damned; I’d hired him if it were in budget.

  “What’s your paper on, Jeremy?” I ask, needing to narrow down to find him the proper sources.

  “The Golden Age of Piracy,” he says as he pushes his thick glasses up his nose. “Mainly how the time’s culture fostered and environment where piracy was desirable among common and often disenfranchised people.”

  I smile. Like I said: smart kid.

  We don’t have too many sources on piracy, but plenty on the 18th and 19th centuries to get everything going. I begin moving down the aisles, plucking one book after another from the shelving. Jeremy trails right behind me, holding his pile of books close to his chest like they’re something precious—and they really are.

  “Nice to see a woman busy at work these days.”

  I let out an embarrassing squeak, dropping the book I was handing to Jeremy. It clatters to the floor, the pages splayed open as the spine lands on its face. Officer Lyle Johnson stands at the end of the bookcase, leaning against the edge. He’s also a
regular, but I haven’t seen him since the night at the bar. I can still feel the slide of his fingers against my face and remember his words sending a chill down my spine.

  We had good times, once. We should do it again.

  Mistakes of a lonely woman… It’s definitely not happening again. My stomach drops though; why else is he here? He’s not in uniform.

  I clear my throat.

  “Jeremy, go ahead and take these up front,” I tell him. “Maddison can check you out. Tell her I said to give you an extra week, so you can have plenty of time to have all your research done for your project.”

  Jeremy looks nervously between Lyle and me. Everyone in Tomahawk knows about Lyle, and everyone knows not to cross him. He’s as bad if not worse than Marc. For that reason, I can’t fault Jeremy for backing away without question and leaving the two of us alone. That said, it doesn’t make me feel better about being alone with him.