Raw Deal (Steel Veins Book 3), page 1
Raw Deal
Steel Veins MC Romance 3
Jackson Kane
Raw Deal © 2020 by Jackson Kane
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Raw Deal is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.
www.hottreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
Formatting: Justine Littleton
E-book ISBN: 978-1-925853-82-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-925853-83-4
Created with Vellum
Contents
Author’s Note:
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
Epilogue
About the Author
About the Publisher
Author’s Note:
No other reading is necessary.
This standalone takes place after the events of Burn Up.
After a divisive philosophy shift and a dramatic change to the Steel Veins leadership four years ago, the cruelest, worst members broke off to form their own MC—the Broken Veins. Pissed off and ruthless as hell, the Broken Veins want nothing more than to see the world burn.
If you like spine-tingling sex and blood-boiling violence, you’ve come to the right place!
This novel contains graphic situations. Raw, edgy, and violent in parts. With gritty, hot sex as well. There are also sensitive situations depicted as well as potential PTSD triggers. Any readers who feel they should not venture into a story told with a real edge on reality in the violent word of an MC should consider this warning before reading…
Prologue
Mason
Present Day
“Tell us about Elisha, Mason,” the federal agent asked me again.
Through the chaos and bloodshed that nipped at our heels every step of the way, Elisha's dark eyes were the first thing that came into focus in my head and in my heart. Despite the fact that it’d been months since I’d seen her, I would never forget that they were the subtlest brown I'd ever seen.
Elisha had a beauty I'd never thought possible before. Up close, with only breath and heat between us, those brown eyes glimmered like stardust.
Then the rest of her flooded me. Her silky brown skin was soft and smooth to the touch. From the tight bun she wore her straightened black hair in to her ginger-kissed lips, every inch and curve of her slim body was etched into my memory.
And of course, her bright blue-and-white inhaler.
Then there was the sex. The sweaty, filthy, raucous sex of two people who spat in the face of reason and defied fate at every turn.
I wouldn't tell them all that. No, that was mine.
“Mason.” This time it was a different voice that called my name. A royal pain in my ass named Harris. “Tell us about the girl.”
I cracked a smile that wasn't meant for them. It was for Elisha. She wasn't in the room to see it, but wherever she was, I hoped she could feel it.
“Nothing to tell really.” I shrugged.
Aside from the fact that I wouldn’t be alive right now if not for her. I'd either be dead or wishing I was.
In hushed tones, they conversed between themselves.
“Don’t be coy, jackass,” Harris shot back. “Gang war, the toppling of an entire MC, gunrunning cartels—you know how serious this all is. You could be in a tremendous amount of trouble, Mason.”
“I guess we’ll have to see, then, won't we?”
“I only have one more question for him before you bring him back to his cell.” Harris closed my file dramatically. “Was she worth losing everything for?”
It took me a moment to reply. I wanted to picture her smiling back at me one more time before I answered.
“Everything?” I laughed. “You mean my freedom and my life?”
They still didn't get it. How could they? Elisha and I were just words on a page to them. Strip all that away and I’d still have the time we spent together. No one could take that away from me. Not the FBI or the Broken Veins.
She saved me in more ways than they could imagine. Elisha was the lighthouse in the storm of my soul. “To answer your question: I don't regret a damn thing.”
Chapter One
Elisha
Five months ago
Once I got on the interstate in Kentucky, it was almost impossible to miss the Broken Veins Motorcycle Club. This was the most efficient route to get from Philly to Arkansas, so it was only a matter of patience. I'd been parked along the road, knowing they'd eventually catch up and pass me.
And when they did, I'd catch Mason.
Once I found the connection between Mason and the Broken Veins, I'd done a tremendous amount of research on that MC. They were ruthless, especially that particular chapter. Countless charges of aggravated assault, rape, murder, drug trafficking… the list went on and on.
I'd already started to have doubts about what I was even doing here, when I'd seen the Broken Veins in my mirror several miles out. Kenneth and I had brought in some tough fugitives before, but never anyone like this.
Still, I'd take an angry biker gang over being back in the office with Kenneth and Chelsea. I fumed at the thought of them lying to my face for however long the affair had been going on.
Two near parallel lines of leather-clad bikers weaved through traffic like a rolling thunderstorm of chrome and rubber. They overtook family sedans and other commuters as if they were standing still. The ones who wouldn't or couldn't get out of the way fast enough received a knuckle rap on their hood from each biker who passed them.
Witnessing the Broken Veins’ callousness and brutality on the road made the inklings of doubt in the back of my head chirp up a little louder.
Could I really handle this on my own?
These bikers were a crackling storm cloud on a sunny day; every aspect of them emanated danger. I began to ask myself why I was even taking this bounty. Getting away from Kenneth and the office was one thing, but going toe-to-toe with a vicious gang of thugs?
What was I trying to prove?
“Incoming call from… Kenneth” sounded over my car's speakers.
I sighed with exasperation. “Ignore.”
Kenneth had blown up my phone so much that it was making my Bluetooth ache. I was on the verge of outright disabling it, but I was waiting to hear back from a few other leads I'd been chasing down.
The image of my now ex-fiancé, Kenneth, thrashing around on top of our receptionist, Chelsea, had chased me across three states. It was only last night that I caught them. The wound was too fresh for me to talk to him right now.
No matter how hard I pushed down the gas pedal, I couldn't outrun it. I knew I couldn't dodge Kenneth forever, but even the thought of the sound of his voice made me both sick and angry.
I'd have to deal with him at some point, and it was going to be messy. Now wasn't the time. I had other things to worry about.
Scanning my mirrors, I thought I spotted my fugitive near the back of the pack. The rider, like the others, wore no helmet and a black leather vest adorned with brightly colored patches. Mason's vest was left open, the wind sending it flapping behind him like great leather bat wings.
Despite all my research, the only picture of Mason that turned up was the same dated mugshot that was clipped to his file. It was almost like someone had gone through and wiped him from most of the databases. Mason basically ceased to exist after he skipped bail two years ago.
I was chasing a ghost.
Mason blazed past my rearview, then my side mirror, then disappeared. I freaked out for a second, thinking I'd somehow lost him in my blind spot. He abruptly appeared two lanes closer, riding next to me. He was so close that, if my window were down, we could've touched hands.
I gasped, sinking low in my seat. Did he somehow know I was tracking him down?
Drifting slowly behind me, I saw the car he swerved around that put him right next to me. It eased my worry. I hadn't even started following him yet. Of course he couldn't possibly know who I was.
I couldn't tell if he actually slowed down or if that was just the rate the Broken Veins were traveling. Whatever the reason, I used the opportunity to steal glances at the man. I needed to confirm that he really was the fugitive I was looking for.
The dusty golden yellow wheat fields that blanketed the far side of the road behind Mason made him look like a mirage. The midday sun caught his bare chest and stomach at ju st the right angle to set his tawny beige skin on fire. The glistening rough lines of his sculpted muscles carved hard angles of deep shadow across his torso.
Jesus. I swallowed, feeling a lump rise in my throat. That tiny photo left a lot to the imagination.
His layered walnut hair danced like heavy smoke on the wind. Occasional strands fleetingly caught on the rugged stubble that encased his strong, square jaw. My eyes flickered over the many tattoos that were etched into his summer-worn flesh.
I felt my pulse quicken and the corner of my bottom lip slide between my teeth. My eyes darted away again; it was all I could do just to stay on the road. In my line of work, I thought I'd seen every variety of criminal, but I'd never seen a man like him before.
When I turned back, he was looking right at me. My eyes flared in surprise. He must have seen that, because his mouth cracked into a wicked grin.
Mason wore dangerous confidence as easily as he wore the black-and-white printed bandanna around his neck. From behind his dark shades, I could swear he winked at me. He twisted the throttle, and his engine screamed to life. The quick acceleration lifted the front wheel of his vintage black Harley Davidson off the ground for a moment. Then he bombed forward and rejoined his pack.
I exhaled watching him go, feeling a little exhausted. Even though I hadn't dealt with bikers before, I knew they couldn't all be like him. I'd never found the biker lifestyle appealing. However, after seeing him up close, I could understand how some women could get caught up in it. Mason was the epitome of unyielding outlaw freedom.
Focus, Elisha.
My white SUV wasn't built for speeds like the rockets-on-wheels the Broken Veins were riding. After they blew by, it was a struggle just to keep up and not lose them completely.
I didn't have to tail them for long. I'd caught up with the bikers just before lunch and knew they'd have to stop eventually. When they did, that was my window to grab Mason.
Soon enough, they slowed, pulling off the highway and into a small state-run rest area. I kept my distance, always maintaining an eyeline on Mason. I didn't come this far to have him slip away. Justified or not, it was the truth. He wasn't just a handsome biker; he was also a half-million-dollar bounty.
Kenneth and I had been together for ten years, ever since we graduated from high school. Everything I had was jointly owned with him. Our cars, the house, even the bounty hunter company we'd started a few years ago was in both our names. I thought we were building a life together.
How could I have been so blind? It made me both sad and furious!
I couldn't see any way that this breakup wouldn't be extremely messy, and Kenneth had a lot more legal connections than I did. If he was feeling petty enough, he could try to take everything from me, and I just wouldn't have enough money to hire a lawyer who could match his.
The money I'd stand to make on this bounty was the only chance of equaling the playing field. It was the only way I could fight Kenneth, if it came to that.
It didn't matter how terrifying the Broken Veins were. I didn't have the luxury of quitting.
The off-ramp split into two short roads, one for cars and the other for big trucks. There was a liquor store/welcome center/restaurant sandwiched between the two. The bikers took the former, and I took the latter. That put me at the back of the building with a fantastic vantage point on the restrooms.
Now all I had to do was wait and be ready.
While the bikers got lunch, I reviewed Mason's file and ate the food I'd packed. He’d been arrested a few times, all vehicle theft related. The most recent one was a borderline misdemeanor.
Most of the charges were dropped when he was in his midtwenties, but North Carolina still wanted him real bad. Bad enough to issue a bounty that was worth half a million dollars. Something seemed odd about the whole thing, but I triple-checked and made sure.
Mason Stone was a wanted man, and I was going to be the one to bring him in.
Kenneth rejected this bounty before I'd even had the chance to review the file. He'd been doing that far too frequently lately. We were supposed to be partners. We'd have to reevaluate those roles when I came back to the office. My mind cascaded into anger and worry over Kenneth’s latest cheating incident.
That's not why I took this job, I reminded myself. I was here to catch a fugitive, not dwell on the past. I forced all that out and resumed poring over the little info there was about Mason.
He didn't have much in the way of family. His mother died when he was young, and there was some mention of a sister, but that was about it. There was only one real lead, and it was written in pencil by one of the Carver, North Carolina, police officers. 'Presumed association with the outlaw motorcycle club the Broken Veins.'
His file almost looked like it had been scrubbed by some other government agency, like the CIA, NSA, or feds. That wasn't a big deal, though. The government redacted information in files all the time.
“Incoming text from… Julie” came through the car speakers. Julie was an old friend of mine. We were cadets together in the police academy. She was the only one who stood up for me when I was 'disqualified' because of misfiled paperwork. Apparently being black and female was still too progressive for Lawrence County, Alabama.
Some movement near the bathroom had my eyes snapping back up. Mason walked in and closed the door behind him. The text message sounded through the speakers. “Broken Veins are headed to an annual club-wide meet up just outside of Little Rock, Arkansas.”
Damn. I'd known the where, just not the why. If Mason made it to the meet, there would be too many bikers around for me to even get near him. I grabbed my gun and cuffs and hurriedly climbed out of the car.
“Why do you need this? I hope you're not doing anything silly….” The text-to-voice audio from my speakers trailed off the farther away I went from my SUV.
I didn't even have time to lie to her. If I was going to catch Mason, I'd have to do it right now.
I did a quick scan for any other Broken Veins when I reached the bathroom door. There weren’t any around. Tightly gripping the gun on my hip, hidden beneath my blazer, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Occupied” came the gravelly voice behind it.
I swallowed, then forced myself to proceed. “Sorry to bother you. I just… I dropped my wedding band in there. Can I please come in and look around for it?” My voice was both frantic and nervous, very little of which was acting.
Calm down. He's just another fugitive, I reminded myself.
“You dropped your wedding band in the men's bathroom?” As soon as the door opened, I pushed my way inside and then closed it tightly. I would need privacy for what came next.
“Not exactly.” I smiled innocently.
Mason's eyes narrowed as he worked out if he'd seen me before. It was irrational, I knew, but I felt a little wounded by that. How many girls did he pull that stunt with on the highway?
“You,” he said, brushing his hair back. A slow smile crept across his rugged tan face. “White SUV?”
I smiled back slightly and dipped my head. “Yeah.”
Mason Stone lived up to his namesake. His dark, sand-colored body looked rock hard. I fought the urge to run my fingers down his torso. I'd never seen any man in person who was in as good shape as he was. He was something out of a magazine.
“I take it you're not looking for a ring,” Mason remarked, letting his eyes wander down my body as well.
“No.” It was hard to keep my concentration.
“Then what can I do for you?” My heart rate spiked at the smokey tone of his question. It held so many implications.
I exhaled through gritted teeth. I was a little afraid. I also felt something else as well, something I hadn't felt in a very long time. It was an undeniable, primal attraction. Why did he have to be so damn handsome?
