Strays (Red Kings MC Book 1)

  STRAYS

  Book One

  Red Kings Series

  By Eliza Marsh

  Contents

  STRAYS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  Thank You

  About The Author

  1

  “Can I get y'all anything else?”

  The elderly couple at the table smiled up at the waitress who had just delivered their plates. “No, thank you, dear,” the woman said politely.

  Jackie nodded and turned back towards the counter, nearly colliding with another server carrying a tray full of food. “Oh, sorry!” The other woman merely glared at her and continued down the line of tables, unimpressed. “Bitch,” Jackie mumbled to herself as she walked behind the counter, only to lean against it in exhaustion.

  It had been a busy Friday night in the diner, filled with teenagers on dates and families that came in weekly. The crowd had finally died down a bit, allowing Jackie to take a minute to catch her breath. She laughed to herself as she thought of her current situation, a thousand miles from home, hoping the new location would bring better opportunities. And yet here she was in her mid-twenties working odd shifts at a diner to cover the rent for a less-than-stellar apartment.

  She looked around and smiled, admitting to herself that things could definitely be worse. In all honesty, she was lucky she had stumbled upon this place, otherwise who knows what she would be doing to pay the bills.

  On first inspection, one would think the diner was going for an old 1950s theme, but really it was just because it hadn't been updated since its opening in 1957. The white walls played host to dozens of pictures from past decades, while the red vinyl booths and metal tables sat atop a black and white checkered floor. There was an old jukebox in the corner that only seemed to play three songs on repeat. When Jackie had first entered the place over a year ago, she had half-expected the waitresses to be on roller-skates.

  The restaurant was on the small side, a handful of booths, seven tables, and a few place-settings at the counter next to the register, but it usually filled up quickly. At least it was run by good people who took care of their employees and customers.

  “Jackie, order up!” The dark-haired woman sighed and stood from her slouched position against the counter, waving to the cook through the pick-up window. She grabbed the final plate of the evening and placed it in front of one of her favorite regulars, Thomas. He was short with graying hair and kind eyes, an otherwise inconspicuous older man.

  “Thanks, Jackie,” he said with a broad smile as she placed a bottle of ketchup next to his plate and grinned. He wasn't a high-maintenance customer and left her large tips most of the time, so she never minded spending a few extra minutes talking with him.

  Her shift was almost over, and she was more than ready to take off the apron, go home, and sink into a relaxing bubble bath. Since the day she and her best friend Tyler had left Chicago, this was the first steady, long-term job she had managed to hold. True, it was not a spectacular job – the hours were terrible, and by the end of the day, she was dead on her feet and tired beyond belief - but it was necessary. She was happy in their new home of Macon, Georgia, and was very glad that they were hanging around, at least for the time being. She'd stick with this job as long as she could.

  After the last of her customers trickled out, she wasted no time cleaning up and collecting all of her things. It was nearing eleven-thirty, and she was ready to head home and go to bed. She was unusually tired tonight. It looked like her bath would be postponed in favor of getting as much sleep as she could before she had to wake up for her early morning shift.

  Buttoning up her coat and taking her bag from the counter, Jackie made her way to the door. She stopped to look at the empty diner one last time, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then shut the lights off and stepped out into the chilly November night.

  Locking the door, she was startled by the sounds of a scuffle coming from across the street. The noise caught her attention on the usually quiet corner, and she looked to see a group of men standing in the alley between two brick buildings. She instantly recognized the leather vests they wore, connecting them to an outlaw biker gang known as the Red Kings. Jackie had seen this group many times in the diner, even waited on them occasionally, but she was now getting her first glimpse of the danger everyone whispered about.

  As one of the men moved slightly to the side, she noticed a huddled figure in the middle of the group. He frequented the diner, but she had never actually spoken to him. She wasn't sure she wanted to meet a man that associated with criminals. He was probably a criminal himself. She just hoped that neither he nor the intimidating bikers would see her.

  On the other side of the street, Dean Rockwell was angry, even more so than usual. The Vice President and enforcer of the Red Kings' Macon charter was a man that many feared. But along with that fear, people respected him. They were continually striving to be on his good side – something that didn't happen easily.

  If the Kings wanted something, you gave it to them. If they needed something, you did everything you could to help them. If you lied to them, you suffered severe consequences. Said consequences almost always came with an angry biker holding a gun to your head or a knife at your throat.

  Tonight was no different.

  As Dean considered the man cowering at his feet, he could easily see a resemblance between him and a cat. A scared cat that had no claws. He mentally rolled his eyes at the man's pathetic behavior. He should just shoot him and be done with it. But no, the boss wanted to give the little traitor another chance.

  "I thought we were clear, Luther," Dean said, his gravelly voice a rough break in the quiet of the side alley. "The Kings buy guns from you and only you on the one stipulation that you can sell to absolutely anyone else except the Saints." He paused, large tattooed arms crossed over his equally large chest. "And who the fuck did you go and sell guns to?"

  "D, I swear, it was just a one-time thing," Luther replied with a hint of a stutter, leaning against the brick wall at his back as he sat on the cold ground. "They were in a bind, offered me double. You can't say no to that kind of cash."

  "Sure you can," said a short blond man sporting a treasurer's patch on his kutte. "It's really simple. No. It's called loyalty and keeping your word, asshole."

  Luther started to respond again, but Dean pressed a knife to his throat - deep enough to scare him, but not cause any significant damage. “You want to live, don't you, Luther?”

  "It won't happen again, I swear!" he yelled frantically in reply, trying to inch away from the sharp blade as he held his hands in the air in surrender. "Please Dean, gimme another chance."

  The biker glared down at him, a dangerous glint in his eye as he contemplated his target. Pressing on the knife again, this time drawing blood, he made sure his message was cle
ar. "One last chance. And if you cross us again, I will hunt you down and break every bone in your body with my bare hands before killing you."

  With one last look of disgust at the frightened man, Dean pulled his knife back and made his way to the four bikes at the end of the alley, the other outlaws following. He threw one leg over the machine and turned his head back to the man.

  “Keep your phone on, Luther.”

  With that, Dean started his bike, ready to take off. They were all more than ready to go to the clubhouse, have a cold beer, and find a few ladies to warm their beds. Pulling away from the curb, Dean caught the eyes of someone across the street. He cursed under his breath without even realizing it.

  “Shit.”

  "Shit."

  That was the only thing that came out of Jackie's mouth. Her mind was whirling with the scene she had witnessed from her position over the past thirty seconds. She didn't hear much, but what she managed to pick up, coupled with the images of the knife, the scared man, and the bikers, shook her to the core.

  Jacqueline Reeves was many things, but brave wasn't one of them. She was generally smart, realistic, and rational. However, at this exact moment in time, all thought had flown out of the window. An intelligent person would have run away as soon as they saw what was happening. She just couldn't take her eyes off of the situation as it unfolded in front of her. Now that it was over, she tried to convince her legs to move. She reasoned with herself that she hadn't seen any actual crime, so they wouldn't want to kill her. But the part in the movies where the girl gets kidnapped when she is all alone on the streets popped into her mind.

  The movie never ended well for that girl.

  Jackie did not want to be that girl.

  She was startled by the group of bikes coming to life and then by the pair of cold, dark eyes that met hers across the street. Looking away from him, she pretended not to have noticed anything and started walking down the parking lot to her car. If she was lucky, she could get there peacefully, run home to Tyler, pack their things, and be out of Macon before this group of thugs could find her again. She heard a few bikes speed past her and expelled a breath, counting the steps that took her closer to the safe haven of her car. She was almost there, could practically touch the door handle.

  There was a loud screech in front of her, the rumbling sound of a motorcycle filling her ears. The man perched on top of the machine was the same one she locked eyes with just a few moments ago. Except now, the only thing that separated them was a small patch of grass and a curb. He was much more intimidating at this distance. A dark t-shirt was stretched tight over broad shoulders and muscular, tattooed arms, a leather vest over top. Shaggy black hair fell across a tan, angular face, and his nose had obviously been broken at least once before. There was a deep scar through the brow above his right eye and a smaller one on his cheek. The short beard he was sporting only served to intensify his look further, and the knife on his belt glinted maliciously when the light from the streetlamp caught it just right.

  His dark eyes narrowed.

  She swallowed, fear electrifying her nerves.

  This was it. She was going to die.

  Jackie took a small step back, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Maybe she could outrun him if she could catch him off guard. The biker stared her down, eyes cold and a scowl on his face. From his expression, she could tell that if she tried to run, he would catch her and painfully end her life.

  “You didn't see or hear anything. Did you?”

  His voice was deep and rough, only adding to her fear. She shook her head frantically without actually processing the words at first. When she realized what he was asking and that it wasn't so much an actual question, she shook her head more firmly and looked at him again.

  “Good. Let's keep it that way.”

  And then he sped away with another screech, leaving her to thank her lucky stars that she wasn't just viciously murdered.

  2

  The weekend had been pretty uneventful, but after the horrific Friday night she'd had, Jackie couldn't have been happier. She tossed and turned in bed until the early hours of the morning, trying to rid herself of the thought that she had been followed home and was about to be violently removed from the world. She awoke the next day feeling even more exhausted than the night before. As much as she would have loved to catch up on her sleep on the weekends like everyone else did, she just couldn't afford to miss any work. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn't too busy during the early shift. She spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday working as many hours as she could pick up to make some extra money.

  Jackie sang along with the radio as she parked her old model Ford truck in front of the diner on Monday afternoon. Picking up her purse, she locked the vehicle and made the trek from the parking lot to the building. It was still relatively warm outside, nothing compared to the harsh winters of Chicago that she had grown accustomed to growing up.

  The bells on the door of the diner chimed merrily as she went inside, the smell of coffee and hearty southern food hitting her nose as soon as she entered. There was something oddly comforting about the consistent aroma in the small restaurant that made the place feel very homey. It wasn't a fancy place by any means; the paint was faded, the vinyl-covered booths were torn, and none of the staff had any formal training. But it was a clean place, full of good people and good food that the locals always seemed to enjoy.

  Jackie made her way to the counter, waving to Elaine and Beth, two of the other employees working the evening shift and two of her favorite.

  Elaine was a wonderful older woman with gray hair, loving brown eyes, and a round frame. She and the owner had been friends for decades before Elaine decided to bring her skills to the kitchen. What had started as a few days a week making her famous muffins and pies had turned into a labor of love cultivating the perfect home-cooked, southern menu.

  Despite running her kitchen with an iron grip, Elaine had an incredibly warm and welcoming personality. Her mothering nature and the way she fussed over everyone and everything made people very attached to her. Jackie's mother worked long hours as a nurse to support their family and was rarely home to raise her properly. Now, as an adult, Jackie relished in the fact that someone wanted to take care of her – asking if she ate properly, how her love life was going, and what she was planning for her future.

  “Good afternoon, dear,” the cook said, smiling at the younger woman. “Feeling better today?”

  She was also a very observant woman. Nothing got past Elaine, and she had a knack for spotting a lie, so there were no secrets with her. When Jackie had gone into work on Saturday, she had been bombarded with questions before she even managed to put her stuff down. Had something happened? Was she well? Did she need to go home? Jackie had avoided a real answer, brushing off her concerns with a quick excuse about working too much and needing some sleep. Elaine didn't believe her completely, which was said by the look on her face, but she let the issue go when Jackie insisted everything was fine.

  “I'm much better today. Slept in this morning for the first time in ages.”

  “Have any company in bed with you?” Beth asked from behind the counter with a cheeky grin.

  Beth was a spunky, carefree Latina in her junior year of high school. Beautiful and full of personality, she was quite a hit with guys both at school and at the diner. She was also fiercely determined to work for the things she wanted, unlike so many kids her age. She had just gotten her license, but her parents didn't have the money to buy her a car, so Beth took matters into her own hands. A few months ago, she had entered the diner and asked for a job, a huge smile plastered on her face.

  "Nope," Jackie replied, a knowing smile on her face. "Tyler didn't either, in case you were wondering."

  Beth also happened to have the world's biggest teenage crush on Tyler, and she wasn't shy when it came to letting him know about it. Jackie loved to watch him squirm under the flirtatious gaze of the young girl, falling over himself to be ou
t of her way and avoid any contact with her. Even though he was a decade older, Beth had it in her mind that she had a chance with Tyler if she just tried hard enough to get his attention.

  Jackie may have encouraged it despite Tyler's constant protest of the whole situation. It was way too amusing for her to do anything but laugh. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if the entire female population of Macon, Georgia, fell in love with her best friend. Puberty had done him right, as he had hit a sudden growth spurt at age sixteen and was now easily a head taller than her. He had a wiry, lean build, and with his blond hair, baby blue eyes, and dazzling smile, he could easily get away with murder. When the two were out together, she would often get curious looks from passersby, no doubt wondering if they were a couple. She was almost a mirror opposite of the man. She stood at an average height, with dark brown eyes and thick brunette locks that contrasted against her fair skin. They did make a pretty nice pair, but it had only ever been friendship between them and would likely always stay that way.

  As simple as things were, she was content with her work at the diner and life with her best friend.

  The afternoon passed in a flurry of activity, with Beth and Jackie joking around and Elaine trying to keep everyone focused on their work. The best part of the evening was when Tyler stepped through the door. Beth's face lit up, and she tried to make a beeline towards the pretty blond boy as his eyes got wide. He made a cautious detour around the tables to avoid her and was lucky enough to make it to an empty booth as Beth got stopped by a needy customer. Jackie watched the whole showdown with amusement and grabbed a cup of coffee to take to her friend, roommate, and traveling companion.

  “Where's your bike?” she asked as she placed the cup in front of him and sat on the other side of the booth. “Your girlfriend is usually waiting at the door for you when she hears that thing coming.”

  He glared at the girlfriend comment but decided to ignore it. “I left the bike at the apartment. Spent my gas money on dinner last night, so I had to walk today.” Jackie looked at him sympathetically, knowing it was hard for him to give up riding his motorcycle for other, more necessary, needs.