Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) (39 page)

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Book 3 in the Insurgents MC Series

Coming in December, 2015

The first time Chas saw his son’s teacher, he wanted her in his bed.

Chas, the hardened, tattooed member of the Insurgents Motorcycle Club, has sworn off women since his divorce left him bitter and jaded. The last thing he wants to do is settle down with another old lady.

His relationships now are easy and free—exactly the way he likes it.

Until he meets curvaceous Addie. The sexy redhead whose eyes set him on fire.

He has to have her between his sheets.

And he knows she wants him. Eyes don’t lie.

Addie O’Leary has lusted after her student’s dad ever since she saw him.

She has guarded her heart and her life for the last two years. Now Chas, the muscular, dirty-mouthed, rugged outlaw biker threatens to tear down all her barriers.

Always loving the bad boy, Chas is a dangerous badass with an attitude
and
an outlaw MC. His charming smile pulls at Addie’s heart and his chiseled chest makes her body overheat.

Carrying around a deep, dark secret, Addie is afraid her past will destroy her future. Chas seems to be her only hope for redemption. Will he be able to intervene before it’s too late?

Chas knows Addie is hiding something. He makes it his mission to find out what it is, and, once he does, he’ll claim her as his woman.

Chas’s Fervor

L
izzie Quinn washed
her hands again, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn’t get the blood off her fingers. Looking under the bright lights above her bathroom mirror, she saw streaks of it filling in the grooves and ridges of her skin. There was just so much blood.

Her husband lightly knocked on the door. “Lizzie, aren’t you done in there yet? You’ve had the water running for the past hour.”

“Go away, Ian.” A stray strand of golden red hair flopped in her face, and she blew it away while she continued scrubbing. She’d never be able to get rid of the blood, or the horror of what had happened. Lizzie leaned over the chrome faucet and sobbed, her tears dripping into the sink below.

Lifting her head slowly, she stared at her reflection in the mirror: redness around her puffy, green eyes made her porcelain skin appear more translucent, and the dark circles under them made her look like a stand-in for a zombie movie.

How had a beautiful summer day morphed into such evilness? If only she’d stayed home instead of following Ian earlier that day. It’d been Lizzie’s suspicions of him having an affair which had coaxed her out into the white sunlight, making her duck into alleyways, bushes, and storefronts to avoid detection.

When Ian had entered a large, two-story brick house in a genteel, suburban neighborhood, Lizzie figured her hunches had been right. She’d stood before the bright red door, battling with whether she should go in or leave. She’d decided to go in and catch her cheating husband in the act. Lizzie had turned the doorknob then stepped into the marble foyer, frigid air from the air conditioner washing over her as she’d listened for sounds of betrayal. Nothing. The silence had been deafening.

Then she’d heard it—a loud
swoosh
, like the winter wind, followed by a gurgle somewhere to the right of her. Walking down the large entry, she’d entered the kitchen, and shock slapped her in the face: Ian calmly opened a large plastic bag, placing a bloodied hunting knife in it. Lizzie looked from Ian to a woman in her thirties who was crumpled on the hardwood floor as pools of red pulsed around her, soaking into her white cotton dress. The woman’s eyes were dull and lifeless like two blue marbles, sucking Lizzie into the dark, sunken holes. And as much as she’d wanted to tear her gaze away from the lifelessness of them, Lizzie couldn’t.

“What in the
fuck
are you doing here?”

Startled, she’d turned and caught Ian’s icy stare. Shaking her head, she’d padded over to the collapsed woman and knelt down, taking the lifeless hand in hers—the skin still warm.

“What’s going on here? We have to call 911.” She’d glanced back at Ian, and his stone-cold indifference had frozen Lizzie to the spot.

“We’re not calling anyone.”

“But she’s dead,” she’d whispered.

“I know, that’s the point.” With precision, Ian had placed the wrapped knife in his briefcase, and Lizzie noticed he wore gloves.

Wide-eyed, she’d gasped. “You
wanted
to kill her? Why? Who is she?”

“I don’t know. I’m not paid to get to know the targets, just to eliminate them. You shouldn’t have come here. You’ve left all kinds of evidence.” Snapping his briefcase shut, Ian had straightened his tie and walked toward the backdoor. “You’ve made a mess of things, Lizzie.”

“I’m going to call the police.” Dialing the number on her phone, she’d stopped when Ian rushed over.

By the way he’d gripped her arm, bruises would be inevitable. In a low, hard-edged voice, he’d said, “You won’t call the police unless you want to be arrested. Your finger and footprints are all over the place. Your hands are covered in blood, as well as your clothes. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison, you’ll go home, clean up, and decide where you want to go for dinner tonight. Do you understand?”

With a fallen face, she’d nodded, numbness overtaking her.

“Good. I’ll be home later. I’d give you a goodbye kiss, but I can’t chance any contamination from you.” At that, he’d left the house, closing the back door quietly.

After he’d gone, Lizzie had leaped up and rushed over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. With trembling lips, her racing mind told her to go to the police, but Ian’s words haunted her. He was right—her finger and footprints were everywhere. The only thing she could do was run. Run far and run fast.

*     *     *

Another knock on
the door brought Lizzie back to the present.

“Open up now, we have to talk.”

Dreading seeing him, she dried her hands and turned the doorknob. Ian stood just outside the door, a scowl on his lean, smooth face. As he grabbed her arm, she yanked it away and brushed past him, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows which gave a beautiful view of the Chicago cityscape.

When he came behind her and put his arms on her shoulders, she shrugged them off.

“We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.

“Do we?”

“Don’t be like that. Why don’t you get dressed in something nice and we can go out to La Petite Maison—your favorite restaurant. We can talk there. Does that sound good?” He placed his thin, cold lips on her neck, making her shudder. “I have a quick errand I have to run, but I’ll be back in less than two hours. Be ready.” A thin thread of danger weaved through his voice.

Nodding curtly, Lizzie leaned her head on the cool window and looked out at Lake Michigan. From the penthouse, the sunbathers, joggers, and sailboats looked like mere dots in a vast landscape painting.

Ian’s heels clacked on the marble floors as he walked out. After she heard the front door close, she waited fifteen minutes, staring at the dots below, not daring to move. When he didn’t return, she dashed to the closet and took out her suitcases. Lizzie threw only the necessities in them then pocketed the wad of cash Ian had in the wall safe. With suitcases, cash, purse, and keys, she left her penthouse condominium. Having no clue where she was going, she decided to grab a cab and take a train out of the city. She’d have to reinvent herself, but she didn’t have any idea how to do that. The only two things she knew for certain were that she wasn’t going to go to prison for something she didn’t do, and she had to flee from Ian.

Ian, the man she loved and married two years before, for better or for worse, was a paid assassin, and blood money bought everything they owned—cars, the condo, her clothes,
everything.

Looking out of the cab as the city streets whizzed by, she made a decision—Lizzie Quinn would disappear forever.

Two years later

Pinewood Springs, CO

L
ooking at the
clock on the wall, Addie fumed as she saw the hands read five o’clock. The eight-year-old boy seated next to her at the reading table tried to act as though he didn’t care that his mother was forty-five minutes late picking him up.

It had been a few weeks since Jack had joined the pilot reading group. Addie had liked him instantly. The young boy was so eager to learn and in just the short time he’d been in the program, he’d shown some marked improvements. Addie had five students in her after-school program at the library. As head librarian, she’d been able to put the program together, and if she could prove its success to the city board, she could obtain funding for future sessions.

Jack’s big, brown eyes looked down at his hands as he rubbed them over and over. A slight tremble made his lower lip shake, and his dark brown bangs fell down past his forehead into his eyes. Picking up the phone, Addie called Jack’s mother for the umpteenth time, and again, the call went straight to voicemail. Addie left a message much more curt than her previous ones on the mother’s answering machine.

“I don’t think my mom’s coming,” Jack mumbled as he looked down at his hands.

In a soft voice, Addie said, “Oh, I’m sure she just got tied up. She’s probably rushing to get here, but in case she’s running very late, I should call your father and see if he can pick you up instead.”

A smile cracked over Jack’s face. “Yeah, he’ll come get me.”

As she began to dial the number she had in Jack’s file, a jangle of chains and the loud clack of footsteps on the linoleum floor made her look up from her task. Coming toward the reading table was a tall, lean, muscular man. Dark brown hair fell in long layers a little bit past his collar bone, and his black eyes shone like well-polished quartz. A strong jaw and high cheekbones were covered by his five o’clock shadow. His legs were powerful, every corded muscle emphasized by the tight denim covering them, and his fitted black t-shirt showed off a finely sculpted chest. He exuded confidence, power, and blatant sex. Staring at him, she was rendered speechless, and his commanding presence and sensual angles of his handsome face captivated her. After glancing briefly at her, he rushed over to Jack, bent down, and ran his hand through Jack’s dark hair. Jack looked up at him, smiling, while tears brimmed in his eyes.

Crouching down, Chas put a large hand on his boy’s shoulder, moving Jack closer to him.

“Hey, little buddy, what’s wrong? Why’re you all upset?”

“He thought his parents forgot about picking him up,” Addie said as she stood up and crossed her arms over her ivory blouse.

Ignoring her, Chas hugged his son. Circling his small arms around his dad’s neck, Jack hid his face.

“You know I’d never forget you, right, buddy? Your mom called me just fifteen minutes ago telling me to pick you up, that’s all.”

In a hitched voice, Jack asked, “Why didn’t Mom come? She knew she was supposed to pick me up after the reading circle.”

“At four-fifteen, forty-five minutes ago,” Addie interjected as she went to the table and leaned against it.

“I’m aware of the time. I learned how to tell time when I was in grade school. I don’t need you telling me what I already know.” He threw her a sideways glare then focused his attention back on his son.

“Apparently, you weren’t a very good learner,” she muttered under her breath, but the way he stiffened his back led her to believe he had overheard her.

“Your mom had something unexpected come up. She called me, and here I am. You know one of us will always be around to pick you up, right?”

Jack nodded slowly.

“Okay, so all’s good now, right?”

“Yeah. Am I going home on the hog?” Jack’s eyes lit up, the fear in them gone since his dad was there.

“You bet.”

Standing up, Chas turned to stare at Addie full-on, a look of surprise crossing over his face. Pushing back on his black engineer boots, his dark gaze moved up her body, lingering on her curvy hips—accentuated by her pencil skirt—then brazenly rested on her chest for several seconds before stopping on her rose-tinted cheeks. Heat flushed against her fair and lightly freckled skin, making it blush pink as he blatantly checked her out.