Title: Jester
Series: No Prisoners MC Romance #2
Author: Lilly Atlas
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 1, 2016
“Can I start off by saying that I want my own Jester? A hot, huge, and hard biker that will take care of your every need? Who does not want that?” - Goodreads Review
Chapter 1
Bile burned its way up Emily’s esophagus, then straight back down when she refused to give in to her body’s need to revolt. She was in trouble. Serious trouble. The kind of trouble that could result in her being wheeled from her house in a body bag.
“Johnny,” she whispered. Her heart broke a little as the reality set in of how low he’d sunk.
Across the living room, her brother was bound to one of their kitchen chairs. Purple bruising mottled his face, which was swollen like a balloon, displaying the evidence of what must have been an awful beating. Each time Johnny inhaled, a pain-filled wheeze hit her ears. Rivers of sweat ran down his face, and, despite his limp posture, he quivered, no doubt craving the heroin that ran his life.
Her lower lip stung and she forced her jaw to relax and end the punishment her teeth inflicted. Whenever she was nervous, she bit her bottom lip, and right now she could have bitten straight through.
Four gun-toting, tattooed bikers took up residence in her living room. The house she’d spent her hard earned time and money turning into a home had been violated. She racked her brain, trying to think of a solution, a way out of this terrifying situation, but fear clogged her mind and nothing came to her.
“Well, Emily, what’s it gonna be? We ain’t got all fuckin’ day.” Snake’s voice was dark and threatening. He towered over her, all six-foot-three of him. A single muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed. But it was the way he stared at her that sent chills down her spine, like he took pleasure in her fear, got off on it even.
“I—” The words stuck in her arid throat, and she coughed. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Just don’t hurt Johnny anymore.”
“There you go, boys. At least one of the Carver siblings ain’t a complete fuckin’ moron. She’s pretty too.” Snake winked at her. His tongue darted out and flicked back and forth before disappearing into his mouth.
Her breath stilled. The end of his tongue was forked, each half wiggling independently.
“Emily, shut up. Don’t—” Johnny’s slurred protest was cut short by a quick blow to his already battered face.
She winced as the short, wiry man, whose bald head resembled an egg, connected his fist with Johnny’s face. Johnny’s head snapped back, and blood sprayed from his mouth, across the beige carpet like a geyser, seeping into the fibers. The crimson splatter would stay there, deep inside the wool, no matter how much she scrubbed. She’d never forget this moment—one more thing ruined by the trauma of the day.
“Stop,” she cried out. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I said I’d help you.” Emily’s voice cracked with the effort to hold back a sob.
Twenty minutes ago, Emily had bounced into the house she shared with Johnny, elated that school was out for the summer. Teaching first grade was her true passion, but by the end of May she was beyond ready for the decompression time the summer months afforded. Instead of beginning her much anticipated vacation, she’d been cast as a character in Johnny’s nightmare.
Two steps into her home and a man grabbed her arm. She fought against his hold, but was no match for his strength. Snake then invited her to sit on her own couch while he presented her options. Comply with his demands, or watch Johnny die. Not much of a choice for someone who was more a mother to Johnny than a sister.
A firm hand took hold of her chin with a vice grip. Snake’s eyes bore into hers, like two windows to nothingness. Black, soulless orbs that didn’t reveal a hint of what was brewing behind them. He made a sound she swore was a hiss, and she prayed she wouldn’t see fangs when he smiled.
“This is all very touching.” Snake laughed and drew away, waving his hand back and forth between Emily and her brother.
He turned his head, the motion making a snake tattoo on his neck look like it was slithering. The inked reptile rose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. Johnny had talked about a man nicknamed Snake—before Emily knew Johnny was part of an outlaw biker gang—saying the man had a tattoo of a three-foot-long rattlesnake from his neck to his groin. The serpent’s head moved as its master did, its mouth open wide, revealing two fangs that dripped with venom, ready to strike at any time. Even the way Snake moved resembled a reptile studying its prey, looking for weaknesses and an opportunity to attack.
“Perhaps, Johnny, you should’ve given more of a shit about your sister when you were stealing from me.” He shook his head and tsked, much as Emily would when one of her first graders broke a classroom rule, except the consequences here were far worse. “If you’d done your job, and sold the merchandise instead of snorting it, we wouldn’t have ever known you had a sister. But, lucky for you, she seems willing to step in and clean up your mess.”
Story of her life. She’d been cleaning up after Johnny since he was a kid, years before their parents died.
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