Shattered Grace (Rough Jesters MC Book 9) Page 6

  He didn’t return my smile, resting his arm on the side of the door. “I thought I told you not to come back, Jill.”

  I gave him a dainty shrug. “I just can’t stay away, apparently. Maybe it’s your charm that keeps me coming back.”

  His frown deepened. “You really should take this seriously, you know. You don’t know who you are messing with.”

  I leaned my arms on the open window. “Then tell me who. I’d love to know more.” I wanted to bait him until he got himself into a corner that he couldn’t get out of. I knew I could get something out of Keith; I just needed the right angle to do so.

  Instead of continuing to frown at me, Keith disarmed me with a smile, and I felt a flutter of desire deep in my gut. Lord, the man was handsome when he did that! That dimple on his left cheek was just sinful and I wanted to touch it.

  With my tongue.

  “You think you are pretty smart, don’t you?” he asked.

  I returned his smile with one of my own. “Most of the time, yes. I can’t help it.”

  “You know, I looked you up,” he answered. “So why don’t we dispense with the bullshit, and you show me your journalist creds, Jill.”

  My smile faded and another feeling came over me, but more like I had been sucker punched this time around. “What?”

  “Your credentials,” he repeated. “That’s what you are, right? A journalist?”

  “Damn you,” I whispered, emotion clogging my throat. “I am a fucking journalist.”

  His eyes roamed over my face. “Yeah, well, anyone can call themselves a journalist nowadays. Even fucking Alex Jones is a journalist to hear him tell it on AM radio. But proving it? That’s another deal altogether.”

  “Just like a biker, right?” I fired back, my pride wounded. I didn’t like the fact that he probably knew all my dirty laundry. What was he thinking about me right now?

  Did he believe what he had read? I didn’t know why I cared about what he thought about me.

  Keith chuckled, pointing at his patch. “I got my creds right here.”

  I pushed at the driver’s side door, rewarded with his own groan when I opened it hard against his body. Climbing out, I pointed my finger in his chest, ignoring the fact that it met solid muscle. “I might not have my credentials, but dammit, I am a journalist. The site might not be the Times, but it is credible. I am credible, and you have no right to tell me otherwise!”

  “Jill,” he started, but I wasn’t done with him yet.

  I was tired of people telling me that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t a real journalist. “I’m going to find out what you are hiding here, and it will be the biggest story of the year, with my damn name on it. You mark my words, Jester boy.”

  He arched a brow. “You see a boy standing in front of you?”

  I made a grand gesture of looking up and down his body. “I haven’t seen anything yet that tells me you are anything but.”

  His eyes darkened with anger and I knew I had struck a nerve. Was I looking at an insecure male? I mean, I was just spouting off in anger. Clearly, he was a man, all male, but it didn’t look like Keith believed it.

  Next thing I knew he had me trapped between the car and his hard body, his face inches from mine. “Trust me, Jill,” he said in a husky tone that had chills breaking out all over my body. “All I would need would be an afternoon to show you the man I am.”

  My mouth went dry. “I would expect you to be faster than that,” I forced out. I was all hot and bothered by his nearness, the scent of his cologne that fit him so well infiltrating my senses. What would he do if I just ran my tongue up his neck, right where that vein was bulging?

  Would he retaliate? Did I want to find out?

  Hell, yeah, I wanted to find out. I wanted a distraction. I wanted this afternoon with Keith’s body covering mine and bringing about something in my life other than this crappy situation I found myself in.

  I craved that closeness.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Keith jumped back ten feet at the sound of another woman’s voice, and I drew in a shaky breath, noting another biker standing next to the car, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t look like a badass biker to me, but the vest she was sporting did at least put the label on her.

  Interesting. First pretty boy here, and now a woman who could literally be a librarian. What kind of club were they running here?

  “You.” She glared at me. “You know you’re trespassing, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve already told her that,” Keith answered, his eyes on me. “Twice.”

  I watched as they exchanged glances between the two of them and wondered if they were together. Probably. They were too much alike.

  Too bad. I held up my hands, grinning. “You got me. Since you have already admitted to finding out who I am, can you blame me for doing so?”

  “It doesn’t matter why you are doing it,” the woman said. “But I’m sure the police would love to come and question you for a few hours because of it.”

  Oh hell. I didn’t want to have any more run-ins with the chief right now. “Fine,” I stated, allowing my discontentment to come through in my voice. “But you can’t hide what you are doing in there forever, and I will be there when that day comes to pass.”

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” the woman said with a cheeky grin before laying a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Let’s go, lover boy. Back inside. We got work to do.”

  “See you later, Keith,” I called out, watching as he walked away. His shoulders tensed and I bit my lower lip. I really didn’t like pissing him off.

  Frustrated, I climbed back in the car and drove away, back to my crummy hotel room. Why couldn’t I just make friends?

  Of course, I couldn’t make friends with the people I was trying to steal all their secrets from, but it would be nice to not have someone be mad at me every once in a while.

  Tiredly, I entered my hotel room and shut the door with my foot, throwing my laptop bag on the bed.

  What a crummy day.

  I kicked off my shoes and flopped on the bed, picking up the remote. Some mindless TV would keep me entertained for an hour or two until I attacked the computer once more.

  There had to be something there, something I hadn’t found yet.

  The news came on and I turned the volume up. While the computer was a good place to look for a trail, the local news was sometimes a gold mine for information.

  “Top news tonight, a body was found in an abandoned warehouse today. The police have stated that there are no suspects but have said that foul play is suspected.”

  I snorted. That wasn’t news. It was an attention grabber, but clearly no one knew anything about what was going on, only that they had a dead body on their hands and no leads to follow.

  I ran a hand through my hair before rubbing at my aching temples, my mind replaying today’s events. Maybe I could go back to the clubhouse after a day or so and give them some sort of peace offering, wanting to tell their story and not accuse them of anything. It was a trick as old as the newspapers themselves, but at least it would get me inside and get them comfortable talking to me.

  “Tomorrow evening, we will have an exclusive interview with the newest Pulitzer prize nominee, Julian Elbert.”

  I glared at the TV as Julian’s headshot appeared in the right-hand corner of the screen, a smile I knew all too well on his face. I wanted to change the channel immediately, but my hand wouldn’t go to the remote to do so.

  “Julian Elbert burst onto the scene from his days as a college professor to the editor of the New York Times after his extraordinary piece on the former mayor and his unwillingness to put his money where his mouth is. As a result of Mr. Elbert’s sensational insight, Mayor Chumbey was forced to resign his position and the city government because of his refusal to take a hard look at the use of fuel in the public transportation service.”

  My work had caused that, not his. I should be in that picture, smiling
like that, because I knew I had made it, not Julian.

  He was a liar and a thief.

  “We have some excerpts of the exclusive interview, but make sure to tune in tomorrow night to see the one-on-one talk with an extraordinary man.”

  I grabbed the pillow off the bed and squeezed it against my chest as Julian filled the screen, dressed in his customary tailored suit and solid necktie. I had given him one for his birthday, a baby blue one to match his eyes, and he had gushed over it like I had given him a million dollars.

  Back then, I had felt like there was no happier feeling than a man who truly appreciated the small things in life.

  Now I knew it had all been an act.

  “You know, Samantha, this past year has been unbelievable. I am a very lucky man.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” I yelled. “You fucking asshole!”

  Of course, he couldn’t hear me, and neither could the journalist that was interviewing him. How many times had I thought about sending in an anonymous letter to all the news outlets so that they would investigate him and find out what I already knew?

  I hadn’t. I wasn’t petty. I had tried to take him down and failed. The last thing I wanted to do was go through that humiliation again.

  “What would you say is your inspiration, Mr. Elbert?”

  Julian chuckled. “Julian, please. I find my inspiration in the unlikeliest of places, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?” the woman asked, tilting her head to show her interest.

  Julian sat forward in his chair and I watched his expression change to more of a solemn look, one that would resonate with the audience as being sincere.

  I knew it was fake too. “I found myself wandering our fair streets, my hands in my pockets, watching the public transportation work stop over and over again. I knew that I had to do something to get to the bottom of this. Call it divine inspiration.”

  I snorted. This story had so many holes in it that it was nearly see-through. I hated him. I hated what he was attempting to stand for. I hated that his story was nowhere near what had happened. I had stumbled upon the information online, after a long night of studying and trying to find a good topic for my capstone.

  Divine inspiration, my ass.

  “Tune in tomorrow night to see the rest of the interview.”

  I shut off the TV at that point, hating that I had even put it on. I hated seeing anything about Julian. Even hearing his name built up rage like I had never felt before. He had taken everything from me.

  My credibility.

  My ability to love—to trust anyone.

  My confidence that I had talent.

  I clenched the remote in my hand tightly, wanting to throw it at the TV just to watch the screen shatter. I needed something else to get my mind off what I had just seen.

  Somewhere other than here.

  Pushing off the bed, I stalked to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and change into something more appropriate.

  Something like attire for a bar. I needed a drink or ten and a few hours where I could forget that my life was a hot mess.

  Keith’s handsome face flitted through my mind and I brushed it off, frowning at my own reflection in the mirror above the sink. The last thing I imagined Keith wanted to do was hang out with me. He had made it pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome anywhere near the clubhouse.

  Though, now that I was thinking about it, our interaction had been something else. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hard body pressed against mine.

  Like he wanted me too.

  “Get it together, Anders,” I muttered to myself, grabbing the washcloth off the sink. Keith didn’t want me. I didn’t even know him. Unfortunately, he knew everything about me, and I hated the way that made me feel in return.

  And when that other chick had shown up, I had felt a spurt of jealousy. Jealousy toward someone I didn’t even know. He was right about one thing, though, and I would die before I let him know how much he had hurt me with just a few words. He knew who he was, and his precious club had accepted him, had given him his creds.

  Me, I was still hanging out there alone in the world, waiting for someone to do the same to me, to acknowledge the fact that I was part of the journalism world.

  I wanted someone else to acknowledge me, dammit.

  Rubbing a hand over my face, I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

  I needed alcohol and lots of it.

  Chapter 12

  Wires

  I headed down the hall, my mood still dark. There was yet another party going on in the main room, the laughter and music especially loud tonight.

  I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it was because I was just tired, not sleeping well over the last few days catching up with me.

  Or maybe it was the interaction I had with Jill earlier that was still under my skin. I hated that I had to walk away like that, to throw her creds or the lack thereof in her face and see the devastation in her eyes.

  Despite what I had read about Jill, that look in her eyes had made me question those facts. I didn’t like being that person I had been with her today. I wasn’t a Rough Jester with a capital R. I was a computer nerd who had found some muscle along the way. I wasn’t a mean person, which probably had been my downfall for most of my life.

  “Hey, Keith.”

  I turned to find Sabrina behind me. “Hey, Sabs.”

  “You coming over for pizza tonight?” she asked as she fell in step with me. “Harrison is looking forward to kicking your ass in COD later.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, not tonight.” I did spend a lot of time with Sabs and Crankshaft during the week, bonding over our mutual love for video games. Normally I would be all over her invitation, but I wasn’t feeling it.

  “Something on your mind?” she said, surprised that I had turned her down. “Got plans or something?”

  I gave her a half smile. “Why? You worried?”

  She punched me in the shoulder. “Of course I am. If I don’t look out for you, who will?”

  I chuckled. “I might go to the bar and have a drink.”

  Sabrina grabbed my arm, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Is this about earlier, with Jill? Look, I’m sorry I called you lover boy in front of her, but c’mon. You were as subtle as an elephant.”

  “No, it’s not that.” I forced out, frowning. “Why would I worry about that?”

  Sabrina arched a brow. “I don’t think you are telling the truth, Keith, but remember what Widow Maker said. She wanted you to keep tabs on Jill, feed her information so that we can have her on our side when the time comes.”

  Sabrina was right. Widow Maker had asked us to do just that. “It doesn’t matter now,” I growled. “We chased her off.”

  Sabrina grinned, holding up her phone. “Would you like to know where she’s at?”

  “What are you doing?” I answered as she started typing away on her phone. “Did you hack her cell?”

  “You damn right I did,” Sabrina answered, holding it up so I could see her screen. “She’s at Marco’s. You could meet her there.”

  “You’re scary, you know that?”

  “C’mon, lover boy.” She smirked. “Think of it as my apology to you.”

  I stared at the screen, my jaw working. Marco’s was a bar that the Jesters did frequent from time to time, which meant my presence wouldn’t rouse any suspicions.

  Except maybe for Jill. I should laugh this off, tell Sabs I was going home and forget about today or how Jill had looked when I threw her shit back in her face. “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll go make peace.”

  She patted me on the shoulder and tucked her phone back in her pocket. “Just be careful, all right? I’m still on the fence on whether or not I trust her.”

  ***

  I showed up at Marco’s an hour later, after a shower to clear my head. Dressed down in a T-shirt and jeans, I left my vest at home.

  Tonight, I wasn’t going to be Wires. I was going to be Keith Morrison.
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br />   Jill was easy to find the moment I walked in, sitting all alone at a table far away from the cover band that was playing, her table littered with beer bottles. I walked to the bar and grabbed a bucket of beer before heading over, plunking it on the table.

  “Keith,” she stammered, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. “What are you doing here?”

  I sat in the chair across from her, grabbing one of the bottles out of the bucket. “Having a drink. You?”

  She flushed. “Some of the same.”