Jake (Savage Kings MC - South Carolina Book Series 10) Read online

  Jake

  Savage Kings MC - South Carolina

  Lane Hart

  D.B. West

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.

  The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.

  © 2022 Editor's Choice Publishing

  All Rights Reserved.

  Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor’s Choice Publishing

  P.O. Box 10024

  Greensboro, NC 27404

  Edited by Angela Snyder

  Cover by Marianne Nowicki of www.PremadeEbookCoverShop.com

  WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Coming Soon!

  About the Authors

  Synopsis

  Former best friends Jake Rollins and Lucas Bennett used to love competing against each other as kids. Unfortunately, for the past four years they’ve hated each other, all because they fell for the same girl who they both lost.

  Once again, these rivals are in a cut-throat clash to finally earn their Savage Kings MC patch, until they find themselves fighting on the same side in order to stop the woman they love from getting married.

  When Leighton Pearson realizes her sometimes possessive and controlling fiancé has made every decision about the wedding – including rushing her into saying their vows – she begins to have second thoughts. With encouragement from her best friend, Leighton sneaks out of the church right before the wedding ceremony and runs into two men from her past.

  Jake and Lucas had no idea that the man Leighton left at the altar is one of the richest, most powerful men in the country, at least not until they hear gunshots and all hell breaking loose inside the church.

  Kellen Hawthorne is the heir to an empire – one that has enough cash and clout to control politicians and law enforcement in order to keep their illegal enterprises running smoothly all across the country. The Hawthornes always get what they want, and Kellen refuses to let Leighton go without a fight.

  With the Savage Kings backing them, Jake and Lucas will do whatever it takes to keep Leighton safe and away from Kellen, even though they know it could very well start a bloody war between themselves and two incredibly lethal crime syndicates.

  Prologue

  Jake Rollins

  Six years ago…

  This is by far the worst Christmas Eve ever. Hell, the worst year.

  And there’s nobody I can even talk to about it because I’m too embarrassed to tell Lucas or Leighton. I don’t want their fucking pity, so I’ve been avoiding them. My life is shitty enough as it is without all of that crap. It’s why I’ve been spending my free time with a different girl every week, never staying with one long enough for her to get to know me or my family’s nosedive into poverty before I move on. I’m not just using them for sex, though. Nope, I’m enjoying their homecooked meals with their families too.

  As I ride down the pitch-black street to my house, the air so cold the knuckles gripping the handles of my bike are chapped, I realize that the night and my year may be about to get significantly worse.

  I slam on the bike’s brakes as soon as I spot the black van parked at the front curb of my house, skidding sideways to a stop about three houses down. The plastic bag hanging from my front handlebar crunches loudly as it slams back and forth against my knee, making me wince. I hold my breath, hoping the thieves up ahead didn’t hear.

  Thankfully, the big men standing behind the open back doors of the shady vehicle don’t notice me. Nope, they’re apparently too busy coming up with a plan on how to fucking break into our house.

  What kind of lowlifes rob people during Christmas? Well, other than those Home Alone assholes.

  I almost want to yell to the bastards that they’re wasting their time.

  While my parents used to make decent money, enough to keep us firmly within the middle class, ever since my dad got let go from his job managing a vacation resort a year ago, there have been no other “acceptable” opportunities in sight. His pride won’t let him give in and work in retail or fast food, so shit has been rough on my mom as the sole provider. There’s only one television left in our house, and it’s an ancient piece of shit in the living room. Unless the thugs want some used furniture, a bunch of pots and pans, and well-worn clothes, they are shit out of luck. The only other easily transportable item of any significant value was my PlayStation 3 and the five games that went with it, but I just pawned them tonight so I could pick up a few presents for my little brother.

  Joey is only eight years old. He’s still at that innocent age where he believes in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. He doesn’t understand shit about why dad is home every day instead of going to work or why we eat pasta at least four times a week. He just asked one night if we were becoming vegetarians and dug right on in.

  While the retracting light up lightsaber, plastic Darth Vader helmet, and a pack of action figures isn’t much to put under the tree, I know it’ll probably make his fucking year. Mom finally thought he was old enough to watch all the Star Wars movies this summer. Ever since then, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker are pretty much all he talks about.

  Since I’m not willing to take the chance that the goons out front will just grab shit without hurting my family, I pull out my cell phone from my jean pocket to call 9-1-1, praying Verizon hasn’t cut service to it yet. I doubt my mom has paid the bill this month.

  As soon as I unlock the screen, the device glows like a goddamn spotlight. I know I’ve fucked up when I hear a deep voice say, “Someone’s in the street three houses down.”

  Fuck.

  Why didn’t I go hide around the side of Mrs. Burch’s house before I tried to use the damn thing? I’ll blame it on not eating enough today to think shit through. I’ve lost fifteen pounds since we became “vegetarians.”

  “Hey!” a man’s booming voice calls out before he uses his own phone to light up his way toward me. “You okay, kid?”

  Well, now I’m screwed since he’s definitely seen me. Better play dumb.

  “Ah, yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t see a thing.”

  “Good,” the dude says in what sounds like relief. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the magic for you. Santa’s supposed to sneak off before you see him.”

  “Huh?” I ask aloud, thinking these guys must be fucked in the head. I’m able to get
a good look at one of the dudes standing in the light from the van’s interior, and the hairy, tattoo-covered goon, definitely isn’t a jolly old elf.

  “Take the bags on up to the porch and leave them by the door,” he says over his shoulder while he keeps walking toward me. And for some reason, I don’t even try to take off.

  Maybe because the dude is huge and looks like he’s in decent enough shape to chase me down before I can pedal up any speed on my bike. Or maybe because the guys with him are actually taking the bags of shit they stole back to the house.

  “Don’t tell the kids who live here that you saw us, okay?” the man says quietly. “You know, out of respect for their folks?”

  “Who are you?” I finally ask him when he’s standing right in front of my tire, his phone keeping his face in shadows but illuminating the black leather biker cut he’s wearing over a white hoodie.

  “Roman McNamara,” he says and holds out his palm for me to shake it. I do, still very fucking confused. His grip is firm through his leather gloves, which I presume he’s wearing to hide his fingerprints. “Where the hell are your gloves at? It’s below freezing out here!”

  The robber is worried about my cold hands?

  “We’ve got a few extra pairs in the van if you need some.”

  I never get a chance to respond before he sighs and says, “Come on. You’re one of the Rollins’ boys, aren’t you?”

  “How did you know my name?” I ask in surprise as I climb off my bike and push it along beside him. I guess if he was going to kill me for being a witness, he would’ve done it already and he wouldn’t have cared about my lack of gloves.

  “Your family is one on our list,” Roman replies. “If you tell your kid brother, though, I’ll come back here and kick your ass.”

  Ah, and there it is – the threat I was waiting for.

  “Tell my brother what? That you tried to fucking rob us?”

  The Roman guy freezes and turns to face me. “Rob you? That’s what you think we’re doing outside your house?”

  “I told you the windowless van looks suspicious,” another guy remarks as he jumps down from the back of the vehicle.

  “Oh, I’m so fucking sorry. All the sleighs and reindeers were rented out tonight,” Roman replies, making the other guys chuckle quietly. Finally, with my phone and Roman’s still lit up, I’m close enough to make out some of their features – mostly their clothes. And it looks like all of them are wearing the same black jackets with white patches and jeans. They’re bikers?

  Then, someone still standing hunched over up in the van lights up their phone and moves, casting a glow over the back of the cargo area that’s full of huge red, green, and white bags with Christmas trees and candy canes on them.

  “This is the Rollins’ oldest boy,” Roman tells the guys.

  He actually knows my family?

  Oh shit.

  This may be even worse than a robbery.

  “You’re a fucking charity?” I say in understanding. “Handing out toys and shit to poor families?”

  “Almost everyone goes through some hard times at least once in their life,” Roman says. “It’s the decent thing to do to help out your neighbors when you can.”

  My dad is going to lose his shit. I bet he throws whatever they brought in the garbage rather than accept the help.

  Roman’s phone light lowers to the handlebar of my bike, and he asks, “What’s in the bag?”

  “Nothing,” I grunt the word out, my thoughts still focused on how miserable Christmas is going to be having to listen to my dad bitch about charity…

  He grabs it before I can even say a word to stop him, then him and another guy are shining their lights down inside. “Presents for your little brother?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “How did you pay for this?” he asks.

  “I had a few dollars saved up.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s none of your damned business!” My voice cracks on the expletive, ruining whatever affect I was going for.

  “You bought all of this with a few saved dollars?” He grills me worse than my mom when she knows I’ve done something wrong. And for some unknown reason, I get the same cornered rat panic, knowing that I can’t escape and no lie will satisfy this kitty. Only the truth or blood.

  “Fine. I pawned my PlayStation 3 and a couple of games I never played with anymore. It’s no big deal.” I try so hard to sound nonchalant, but I can feel my cheeks burning in the cool evening air.

  “You’re a good brother,” he says, placing the bag back on my handlebar. My only response is a shrug because that’s not exactly true. Joey is so much younger than me that I’ve always given him hell, called him a baby and shit.

  “Yo, man. We got any more of those fours?” Roman yells to the guy in the van.

  “Yep,” comes the guy’s response, and Roman reaches inside to take a big box from him, something so bulky and unwieldy that it requires two hands. Then, it’s hanging in the air in front of me like my very own Polaris, radiant and untouchable.

  Holy fucking tits. It’s a PlayStation 4. On Christmas. Nobody gets the new PlayStation on Christmas.

  “Here.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I look up at his face and ask.

  “Well, there is one question I need you to answer honestly before I can give this to you,” Roman says seriously. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

  “This Santa shit is going to his fucking head,” someone remarks, making the other men laugh.

  “Take it,” Roman says as he thrusts it toward me.

  I have to put the kickstand down on my bike to free up both hands. And a tiny part of me still thinks this is some sort of joke and he’ll give me an empty box. But nope, when I take it, it’s heavy enough to have the real deal inside.

  “I still can’t believe a bunch of bikers are out here playing Santa Claus,” I mutter under my breath.

  “We just recently founded a new Savage Kings chapter in town, and this was our first fundraiser. It turned out better than expected.”

  “Savage Kings, huh?”

  “That’s right. Maybe we’ll see you around the clubhouse when you turn eighteen.”

  “Eighteen?” I repeat, still dazed.

  “That’s the minimum age to start prospecting to become a member.”

  “Oh.”

  “Being a badass on a motorcycle isn’t for everyone, though,” Roman replies as the guy jumps down from the back of the van and they close it up. “See ya, kid,” he says as two guys climb up in the van and start it. In front of it, I hear the roar of a thunderous engine and step into the center of the street to watch the Harley take off with the van following behind it. The dude is riding even though it’s cold as shit?

  I guess those guys are pretty badass.

  Once the shock wears off of the surreal meeting with the strange men, I get my bike put up in the garage, and then I quietly creep into the house through the side door with my bag and box in case my parents are already asleep.

  They’re still awake and are unloading a giant Christmas bag full of gifts under the Christmas tree. They don’t look all that surprised to see me sneaking in.

  “You saw them out there, didn’t you?” Dad asks without making eye contact with me, his unshaven jaw clenched tight.

  “They were cool guys,” I reply rather than comment on what they were doing here. I know my dad is embarrassed about being out of work and having to accept help from strangers. I get it. I wish I could help more; but when I offered to quit the basketball and baseball team to get a job after school, my parents insisted that I keep playing. They still think there’s a chance I can get a scholarship and go to college. But the truth is, I think I just want to be done with school once I graduate in a few years. I don’t see the point of going on to college for four more years, especially not when I could be working and making my own money.

  My mom comes over and takes the box and bag from my h
ands.

  “I wish you hadn’t sold your things,” she says sadly.

  “It’s no big deal. I got a better system now anyway,” I say as she hands the gifts to my dad to place under the tree. Then, my mom hugs me tight. “We promise things won’t always be so bad.”

  “I know, Mom. You and dad are doing the best you can. Nobody is perfect, right?”

  Well, nobody except for maybe Leighton Pearson. That girl is unlike anyone else. She’s beautiful, smart, sweet, and so tough she kicked a guy’s ass for touching hers. And she’s my boy Lucas’s best friend. They’re always together, making me think there’s more than just friendship between them even though they both deny it.

  Even if Leighton isn’t hooking up with Lucas, I know I have about the same chance with her as I do winning the lottery. My reputation lately as a player hasn’t exactly been doing me any favors either.

  But for some reason, tonight has filled me up with a little bit of hope that wasn’t there yesterday.

  Maybe my dad will find a job soon and shit at home can get back to normal. Then, I won’t have any excuses left for not trying to convince Leighton to finally go out with me.

  Chapter One