Shattered Grace Read online

  “Good idea,” I told her, rubbing a hand over my face. I hadn’t slept well the night before, probably because I had guzzled half a bottle of vodka and spent the early morning hours hugging the toilet as a result. That was one thing I hadn’t gotten completely used to: the partying that went on in this clubhouse.

  Hell, they all should need liver transplants by now.

  “You know, I noticed something else,” Sabrina said after a moment. “There’s a car spying on the clubhouse.”

  “Really?” I asked. Sabrina was one of those people that noticed everything. “What kind of car?”

  “One of those beat-up ones,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen before her. “But a woman is always behind the wheel. She’s got a DSLR too. I’m betting a journalist. Ballsy one at that.”

  “Have you told Crankshaft?” Crankshaft, aka Harrison, was one of the Rough Jester council members, and also Sabrina’s husband. A rough-looking guy that could scare little kids with a snarl, he was a completely different person around Sabrina when he wasn’t out killing and taking names for the club. I always thought it was interesting the looks he gave her, like he was a man starving, whenever they were together. I mean, Sabs was great and all, but I had never seen a man look at anyone like that.

  If that was my future, I was in a shitload of trouble.

  Not that women went for the geek type. Sure, since I had bulked up, more than one woman in the clubhouse had approached me and gave me a good time, but that was only because of the patch I wore on my vest.

  I wasn’t looking for anything serious to begin with.

  Sabrina sighed. “No. It’s clear that she is trying to be incognito and Harrison, well, he’s anything but, you know?”

  That was true. The man was like a bull in a china shop most of the time.

  “Anyway,” she continued, biting her lower lip. “I’m worried, Keith. There’s so much illegal stuff swirling around both clubs. After the most recent skirmish with the cartel, I’m afraid that our entire existence is up in the air. What if they start picking us off? What if we go to prison? I don’t want to be separated from my husband or my friends like that.”

  “Hey,” I said, laying a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about it. We aren’t gonna let that happen. They might attack with kills, but we attack with the computers, remember? We are going to find that perfect information to get us all out of this mess.”

  “I know,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “I just am not sleeping well at night right now.”

  Yeah, none of us were. Sabs was right about one thing. The club was in an uproar lately. First the members defecting from both the Jesters and the Bitches, resulting in an all-out war that hadn’t ended well, and now this CIA mess.

  If they had ever wanted a challenge, they sure as hell had one on their hands right now. “I’ll go investigate,” I said abruptly, just to ease her concerns. I didn’t like seeing my best friend like this.

  Sabrina lifted her hopeful eyes in my direction. “Will you really? I know I should tell the others, but I think we need to be discreet first, find out what she’s doing here and what she’s after.”

  I straightened, attempting to ease the tension in my shoulders. “I can do that.”

  A smile crossed her lips. “From the looks of it, she’s cute—well, when she’s staring at me through a camera lens, that is. Looks way more like your type, Wires.”

  I rolled my eyes at the mention of my club name. So, I had wired one computer system for Chains and now that was my name. Well, it wasn’t the only thing I had wired over the last few months. Turned out, IT wasn’t my only skill set and I had a knack for wiring anything from cars to bombs.

  Yeah, like those C-4 bricks? I could knock that out in no time flat. Still, my name wasn’t quite what I had envisioned. “You mean she’s a stalker chick that goes for brains?”

  Sabs punched me in the shoulder, grinning broadly now. I was glad to see the shadows in her eyes were chased away for now. “You are way more than that. Look at you. I barely recognize the braces-wearing kid from high school.”

  “Not to mention the acne, high-water jeans, and the slicked-back hair,” I added with a laugh. I had been a complete train wreck my first year in high school, so much so that I spent most of that year in the library.

  Turned out, that was the one place jocks and bullies didn’t come looking for you.

  Her grin faded and her expression took on a serious tone. “Just don’t forget those cute girls can totally screw you over as well, Keith. I don’t want to see you get hurt or be betrayed by a girl. We can be so mean.”

  Yeah, I knew that as well. Sabrina had been one of the few women I considered a friend in high school and in college, mainly because she was genuine.

  That, and she hadn’t been one to be anyone else but what you saw. She had gotten me through some rough times. “I’ve got this,” I said, turning back to my screen. “Give me a chance to get rid of her before you go to anyone else.” I wanted to prove that I was more than just Wires the computer geek.

  She didn’t respond, but the clicking of her fingernails on the keyboard told me she was done with the conversation. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that there was more to a pretty face most of the time. Most women had a hidden agenda, unfortunately, and this one, if she was looking for a story of some sort, was going to be out for more than just using her camera to take pictures.

  What she didn’t know was that I was the type of guy that had been through some shit in my life and I wouldn’t have any blinders on when it came to figuring her out. I had the world at my fingertips and in today’s world, everyone’s business could be found on the internet.

  I just needed her name to find out her secrets. We all had them.

  Our little spy would be no different.

  Chapter 3

  Jill

  I brought the camera up and snapped a few pics of the newest biker entering the building, the shutter rapidly firing with each click. I had spent the last week casing out this building from down the street, surprised that no one had noticed me yet. It seemed that everyone that came into the building had one thing on their mind and didn’t notice their surroundings very often.

  I had seen quite the variety, too. Men and women alike had graced the concrete building, with a smattering of motorcycles parked in a row, mostly in front. Every once in a while someone would pull up onto the lawn and park their bike right there, but for the most part, they seemed to be very much rule followers.

  For bikers.

  I lowered the camera, sighing as I did so. Really, they were quite boring to be the hot topic on the chat sites. I hadn’t really known what to expect when I made the decision to chase the lead.

  Okay, maybe I had some preconceived notions. Hot, burly bikers with lots of hair, always breaking out into drunken fights. That was kind of what I had pictured in my mind.

  What I found was the complete opposite. There was a lot of hair, but on their faces and not sticking out of their T-shirts, and not in a horrible-beard-championship sort of way.

  No, I hadn’t really seen anyone under the age of sixty go into the clubhouse and trust me, I had spent a lot of time watching the comings and goings. These guys, whew, they were pretty hot in my opinion, all muscled and seriously lacking the beer guts I had also thought I would see.

  And definitely not someone I would have been attracted to the first go-around. I had been really surprised to feel all hot and bothered the more I watched. Maybe it had just been too long since I had any male companionship, but there were a few that, while they were intimidating, I wouldn’t mind getting an introduction to.

  “You are crazy,” I muttered as I rested my forehead against my camera. I was here to get a story, one that would bring me back to the profession I loved so damn much. Writing was like breathing to me, and if I couldn’t churn out meaningful work, work that was far more than just a paycheck, I felt like I was dying inside. This was far more than just getting even with Juli
an. I needed this in my life. I needed to feel like I was still worthy of being a journalist. Julian’s betrayal had sucked all the life out of me.

  So that was why I needed this so damn much. I needed to get back in my groove, to find that meaningful piece of life that I knew was still there.

  And then maybe I could move on with the rest of my life.

  Which meant I had to break this story. I stared at the concrete building, thinking about the dirt I had on this club. Whoever was pushing out information wasn’t doing a very good job.

  Either that or they had someone who was very good at covering up their tracks. The Rough Jesters were under the direction of Rex Harper, who had risen to power a few years ago when the former president had died. Rumor was that he hadn’t been a completely popular choice due to his young age, which had spiraled out of control when another biker club, the Hell’s Bitches, had joined forces with them. I had also found out that the two presidents, the woman only going by Kristina, were married.

  That was a juicy piece of gossip, almost like a reality TV show. If I was that kind of journalist, I might be interested in getting them into some sort of production.

  There were all sorts of rumors floating around about their ties to the CIA and to the cartel, going back to the inception of the club itself. It seemed that there had been a shitload of money funneled through the Rough Jesters at one time, most of it coming from the cartel.

  If that wasn’t money laundering, I didn’t know what was.

  But that was where the trail had gone cold. Well, not so much cold, but I had hightailed it down here the moment I had heard about federal involvement with an illegally run biker club. I hadn’t figured out the connection yet, but it was there, I just knew it.

  Sitting in this car, watching them come in and out of the clubhouse, wasn’t going to be enough, though.

  I had to find a way in. I had briefly thought about offering myself up as some new recruit but thought against it. I wasn’t one to use a gun or fight. I was a writer and these hands hadn’t done any violence in my entire life.

  Well, unless you counted my plants. Those poor things never stayed alive for long.

  Oh, and the way I had pictured killing Julian with my bare hands for what he had done to me. Now that could bring out the violent side. I had imagined his death a thousand times over, satisfied with each result as long as he suffered.

  I really should look into writing violent crime novels. Maybe if this story didn’t pan out, I would give it serious consideration.

  Anyway, I wasn’t going to be a good recruit, so that solved that. Which meant I would have to find another way in. It was obvious to me that the club tended to stick together. One night I had gotten brave enough to hang around after dark just to see what went on.

  They sure did like to party. The music was booming, the laughter loud enough to drift down the street and to my ears.

  I felt jealous that they had each other while I was sitting in this car, alone and unsure.

  That, and I didn’t really have anyone to call to even combat the loneliness. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had turned their back on me. Even those that I considered to be close friends had run at the first hint of a scandal.

  If only one person had been nice enough to stick it out with me, hold my hand, and tell me I was going to be okay, that they believed me.

  No one had. I cringed as I thought about all the tears I had wasted on Julian, all the hurt that had built up inside with no outlet to express myself to.

  I hadn’t been the best at judging character, but that didn’t mean I was a criminal.

  Even though people had treated me like one.

  Drawing in a breath, I forced the thoughts away. I wasn’t going to linger on myself any longer. I was stronger than that. I didn’t need any help.

  I just needed a great story, a chance to put my name out there and build my reputation again.

  I picked up the camera and looked through the lens once more, catching a biker walking by at that moment, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. He was tall and lean, though I could see the bulk of muscles under his fitted shirt. He was wearing a vest too, which meant I was staring at yet another Rough Jester.

  He just didn’t fit the bill. Clean-shaven, he had the classic good-boy look to him, with short brown hair that barely ruffled in the breeze. He seemed to be taking a break from something, leaning up against the concrete building, and while I fully expected him to pull out a cigarette for a smoke break, he didn’t.

  No, he was apparently enjoying just being in the moment.

  When was the last time I had enjoyed life like that? When was the last time I had noticed how the sun felt on my face, or jogged through the park to clear my head?

  It had been a long, long time, that was for sure.

  Unable to help it, I watched him a bit longer, wondering what was going through his mind.

  Was he just a recruit or full-fledged?

  How did a guy like him get tied up in the club?

  What was his role?

  Was he someone important?

  Why the hell did he have to be so good-looking?

  As if he could hear my train of thought, he glanced in my direction, causing me to squeak as I ducked low in the seat, holding my camera to my chest. I had rehearsed all sorts of stories about what I was doing in case any of them approached me, from bird-watching to land-surveying.

  Not that they would believe me. I mean, my car was a pigsty full of food wrappers and drink bottles, my camera far too expensive to just belong to a regular person.

  But hey, maybe it would break the ice and I would get my questions answered.

  Without moving, I raised the camera in the general direction of the biker, sighing in relief as I realized that he wasn’t storming my way, demanding to know why I was here.

  Too bad; it might have been nice to make his acquaintance.

  Chapter 4

  Wires

  The next afternoon, I eased my car into a parking spot down the street from the clubhouse, noting the same white car parked not far from me. She was here again, our little spy.

  After my discussion with Sabs, I had decided to go outside and see what I could find. Sure enough, there was a woman in a car with a big-ass camera trained on the clubhouse. I didn’t see any signs of her listening to the conversations outside, but it was more like she was taking pictures of the coming and goings of the members.

  What she was going to prove with those pics was yet to be known, but either way, we had to get rid of her. If Chains or any of the other council members found her, it wouldn’t be good.

  Which meant this was my deal to handle.

  I climbed out of the car and straightened my vest, putting on my best scowl as I did so. I wasn’t the best with confrontation, preferring to be the person in the background avoiding everyone else. I wasn’t a pansy, but I just preferred to have an even-keeled life.

  With even-keeled friends.

  Chuckling, I shut the door. I didn’t have even-keeled friends anymore. The Rough Jesters were far from any sort of even-keeled.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and casually approached the car, my words going through my head. I wanted to scare her off, but my curiosity was piqued to know why she was here and what she was looking for.

  If I could find that out, then maybe I could deter anyone else from showing up too. If there was some sort of rumor swirling around on the internet, Sabs and I could knock it out.

  After all, she had been covering our tracks for months. Together we had tried to wipe away any traces of the Jesters and the Bitches online, making certain that we kept the information to a minimum. The feds already had a jump on both clubs, so there wasn’t any reason to wipe the information away completely.

  But we had squashed some of the more detrimental information, especially the stuff that tied us to the cartel.

  That shit could destroy the clubs and I couldn’t let that happen. There was family involved now. Sabs was knee-deep
in the club; her future was tied into the club by way of her now-husband.

  Hell, she was the closest thing I had to family now, the one person that had stood by me during rough times.

  I would do anything for her.

  I reached the bumper of the car, resting my hand on the trunk briefly before moving forward. She saw me before I could reach the driver’s side door, pushing open the door and stepping out before I could even get there. Quickly I took in her tall frame, the way her ass moved in her skinny jeans, and groaned inwardly.

  Damn, she was attractive.

  When she turned, I struggled to keep the frown on my face. She had the classic girl-next-door look, her short hair framing her face, bright blue eyes staring back at me in startled surprise. “Hey.”