Jack: A Christmas Motorcycle Club Romance (Lonely Rider MC Book 2), page 1
Lonely Rider MC
II
JACK
by Melissa Devenport
♥
Table of Contents:
Chapter 01 - The Classic Bad Guy
Chapter 02 - One Good Deed
Chapter 03 - It’s All The Same In The Dark
Chapter 04 - Challenge Accepted
Chapter 05 - Have My Cake And Eat It Too
Chapter 06 - Goddess Of The Stairs
Chapter 07 - The Worst Introduction
Chapter 08 - The Tigress
Chapter 09 - A Shame To Lose Those Fingers
Chapter 10 - A Lively Friday Night
Chapter 11 - Unfinished Business
Chapter 12 - Let Go
Chapter 13 - A Long Ride
Chapter 14 - Sisterly Advice
Chapter 15 - A Peace Offering
Chapter 16 - On The Inside
Chapter 17 - A Straight Answer
Chapter 18 - First Dates
Chapter 19 - A Candlelight Dinner
Chapter 20 - Packing
Chapter 21 - A Man Who Feels Something
Chapter 22 - The Cabin
Chapter 23 - One Chance
Chapter 24 - Not Who You Think I Am
Epilogue - A Surprise
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Lonely Rider MC
II
JACK
Written by Melissa Devenport
Published by Perfect Harmony Publications
© 2018 Perfect Harmony Publications
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission in writing from the publisher.
Chapter 1
The Classic Bad Guy
Jack
Maybe it was the ultimate irony that Jack Stevens never fit the bill of a classic bad guy. He never looked the part. His charming exterior, flashing blue eyes, expensive haircuts, chiseled facial features, bronzed skin, and costly suits screamed money, good taste and breeding. Even if people knew about his past, they wouldn’t have believed it. They wouldn’t have believed he was once homeless, the product of a broken home, escaping his alcoholic and abusive father, living on the streets with his mother until she eventually died from an overdose.
No, people wouldn’t believe he’d done half the shit he’d done. If anything, he looked like old money, perhaps even a trust fund kid. If people bothered to look, they’d find out that he’d gone to an Ivy League school, that he was born to Judy and Richard Stevens, an only child. That he’d grown up in New Jersey and gone to the best schools money had to offer.
Of course, that was bullshit. He’d paid for that past, paid for it with stolen cars and bikes and occasionally with the blood of busted knuckles.
Long story short, he did what it took to survive. He didn’t look like a goon. He didn’t look like some scruffy homeless kid, or a former gang member. Some blonde, a nameless girl from his past, since he didn’t bother with getting to know people, once said he looked like he was in movies.
Jack Stevens was no good guy. So when he watched a tall, slim brunette stagger out of the massive banquet room of their hotel their company Christmas party was held at, he knew he should just let her go. He wasn’t the kind of guy who saved the world. He didn’t hold doors open for people or help old ladies cross the street. He was as ruthless in his safe, upper class, white collar lifestyle as he had been in the shadows of his past.
He would have let her go, the mystery woman, if he hadn’t seen her nearly topple over at the doorway. She swayed and tripped, even though it was obvious she was wearing flats. She slapped a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle, dug in her clutch and produced a set of keys. They flashed silver, catching the twinkling lights overhead. Even across the room, seated at a table alone, a half drunk cheap whiskey in front of him, Jack picked up on it.
He turned his face away from the doorway. The woman lingered there for a moment before she finally righted herself enough to move on. He hadn’t seen her before. Which meant that she was probably someone’s guest or date or a plus one.
She isn’t alone. She’ll be fine. Jack slammed back the rest of his whiskey. He set the glass down on the table with a bang, which was eaten up by the cheesy classic party style music currently blaring over an even cheaper pair of speakers. A few couples here and there and a group of mostly middle aged women from the accounting department, attempted to dance, but it was laughable at best. Laughable, as in it sure as hell wasn’t a funny kind of laugh.
He turned his head and his eyes strayed involuntarily back to the doorway where the brunette stood a minute ago. She wasn’t there any longer. He heaved a sigh, not sure why the hell he cared. Even from a distance, he could tell she wasn’t his type. He preferred blondes and definitely those on the bustier, curvier side of things. That was about as far as a type went. Lately, no one had been his type.
His attention was drawn sharply across the table as Wayde Harper, head of Human Resources, pulled out a chair. He plunked down, heavy set features red and ruddy. He mopped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his shirtsleeve, which was no less damp looking. The light blue had turned a darker color in the areas of the pit and neckline. The guy was about fifty pounds overweight and balding. Though he was just approaching forty, he looked at least twenty years older.
Jack might have cut the guy some slack if he wasn’t completely obnoxious. He flashed Jack a slimy grin like they were actually friends. Which they weren’t. Jack wasn’t friends with anyone. He went to work and did his job. He didn’t socialize. He didn’t fraternize. He didn’t participate in anything more than he had to. He did the bare minimum to get by and was somehow successful.
Probably because people liked a mystery. They liked it a little too much. So he’d decided, on a whim, to change it up. Make an appearance. Just one. One and done.
“You seen Giselle over there?” He turned his head, indicating a tall, curvy redhead who was most definitely married, though her husband was MIA at the party. Probably because he knew the damn thing would be boring as hell and couldn’t bring himself to endure it.
“Saw,” Jack corrected under his breath.
“Hmm?” Wayde’s thick eyebrows, like two bushy caterpillars which stood out in direct contrast to his balding head, rose a notch.
“Nothing.” Jack did his best not to make a disgusted sound.
“Or- there was this chick. Nice piece. Tall, thin, legs for days. She was wearing a red dress. Long, not the kind of thing suitable for an office party.” Wayde’s lecherous grin gave little doubt to the fact that he very much liked the woman in question’s lack of judgment when it came to fashion.
“Can’t say I have,” Jack muttered.
“She had long dark hair, green eyes. God, she looked like a model. Long, long legs,” Wayde repeated again. “I like tall women. I could just damn well climb them like a tree.”
“I think you mean like a monkey. They would be the tree.”
“What’s that?” Wayde leaned forward to hear over the music.
“Nothing,” Jack said again. “I was just saying that I hadn’t seen her.” The description, however, seemed to match the woman he’d just seen at the door. The one digging out keys even though she was obviously completely hammered. She was tall, brunette, slim, and had on a long red dress, which really wasn’t suitable at all for an office thing, though he was loathe to agree on any of Wayde’s points.
“Tall women. Lord. I just have to wonder how many positions she could get herself into with those legs. God, legs like that deserve to be locked around my waist.”
Jack tuned out the rest of Wayde’s statement. It was a skill he’d developed over the years, a way to shut out copious amounts of bullshit. How the guy was head of human resources was anyone’s best guess. Maybe he couldn’t be fired since he ran the hiring and firing department. Maybe it was because they worked for a union and no one had actually had the audacity to complain about sexual harassment. Maybe Wayde didn’t do that kind of shit at work. Maybe he saved it for extra special moments like the office Christmas party, for guys like Jack, who didn’t give two fucks about what Wayde thought.
Must be why he singled me out. Because he knows I won’t report him, since I actually don’t give a shit. Or wore… maybe Wayde searched the room to find someone he thought was just like him. The thought sent a shudder up Jack’s spine.
However delightful the company was, he decided to cut things short. He gestured to the bar then back at his empty glass. Wayde, who seemed completely clueless, got the hint pretty damn fast. Unfortunately.
As soon as Jack stood, he shoved back his chair as well.
Fuck me. Jack stalked away, weaving in and out of the people congregated around the room. He overheard snatches of conversation. Some of it about business. God, who talked business in their downtime? Weren’t parties like this a good excuse to overeat, get plastered, dance like a fool, and nurse a hangover for two days straight? It was his first Christmas party, ever, so he really didn’t know. But he’d assumed. Apparently he assumed wrong.
Wayde was still trailing behind him, a much more persistent shadow than Jack would have thought the guy had the actual brain power to be. He dodged left and right, slid in behind a group of three women laughing like a bunch of honking birds, skipped past the bar and ducked out of the room, hopefully unseen.
Chapter 2
One Good Deed
Jack
Jack waited a minute, but Wayde didn’t make an appearance. There were a few people mulling about on the landing, which branched off into several different hallways and a large staircase to the right.
Jack stepped away, towards the railing. He inhaled sharply, thankful to be away from everyone, just for a few minutes. Why the fuck did I even come to this thing? Oh right. Because I actually thought it might be good for me. Silence. It never used to bother him. An empty house wasn’t as bad as predictability. He’d come as much to throw people off as to avoid another night spent alone.
Unfortunately, changing things up seemed to give people exactly what they wanted. Women always had been drawn to him like a damn magnet. Most of the time he ignored the attention. It always made him uncomfortable, being the focus of things.
He spotted a blonde, Emma, he thought, also from accounting. She raised a brow and glanced his way. It was obvious, from the look in her eyes, what she wanted and it didn’t involve going home alone. Everyone knew Emma was single. Everyone knew she had a damn thing for him. Well, him and half the other guys in the office.
Jack ducked his head and all but fled down the stairs. He’d been at the party for a few hours. Enough to have put in his token appearance, so he could get the hell out of there. His black shoes skimmed over the steps in his hurry. He’d worn a damn suit again, though he hated them. They were confining and rigid. He wished that he’d opted for jeans and a leather jacket. What would it have hurt to scandalize a few people?
No. He knew the rules. He knew what it took to remain invisible, to blend in. He never did anything that might draw attention to himself. Monday to Friday he wore damn suits and slacks and prickly dress shirts. He drove a non-descript, domestic sedan, a few years old. He lived in a regular house, a bungalow that hadn’t been remodeled since the nineties. That was the image he put out there. Just a regular guy. Like any other guy.
He was so focused on making an escape through the lobby that he wasn’t paying attention and nearly ran down the woman who was in front of him. He dipped right as his attention refocused, in an effort to avert disaster. His shoulder brushed hers. Too hard. She stumbled and he automatically threw out a hand to catch her.
His fingers curled around warm skin and a set of huge green eyes, green with brown flecks that caught the light of the chandelier overhead and sparkled. They were hazy, those eyes, unfocused, even when the woman blinked hard a few times.
He glanced down to where his hand remained on her arm, hanging on a fraction too long. He dropped it away quickly, back to his side. Something silver glinted in her other hand. A set of keys.
She was the one who was drunk. Obviously drunk. She had that dazed look and easy smile of someone with zero inhibitions. She smiled at him and raised the keys and he felt, strangely enough, like he was the one who had too many, though he’d drunk only two shorts of whiskey the entire night. He wasn’t even buzzed.
Why then, did his eyes keep falling back to her lips? They were full and a nice pink coral, a natural hue, since any lipstick or lip gloss she might have had on was long gone. He was dimly aware of the dress, a flowing red garment that was cut too low in front and far too low in the back. It wasn’t elegant or classy. It was far more bohemian, as was the long hair that trailed in unruly waves over her dainty shoulders and down her back. The dress had a slit that revealed one long leg and a whole lot of creamy skin.
Unfortunately Wayde’s words echoed through his mind and he berated himself for even noticing those legs. The woman with no name was obviously the one Wayde had been talking about.
“Are you leaving?” Jack found himself asking. He wasn’t sure why and his voice sounded rusty with disuse.
The brunette nodded. “Yes.” She held up her keys and flashed him a grin.
“The party wasn’t as entertaining as you thought?”
Her eyes swept over him and a wave of hard heat hit him right in the gut. And… in lower places, if he was willing to admit it. His cock jumped to life, flying at half mast, though hopefully not noticeable in his damn pants.
“I wasn’t expecting much. At least the drinks were good.” She giggled, high and sweet, though it was clearly alcohol induced.
Jack had the feeling she wouldn’t talk to him at any other time. She looked like a good girl. One of those stuck up, real trust fund girls, from a good family. Girls who were smart enough not be swayed by animal good looks and a charming smile.
Although, driving drunk was definitely not sexy and it sure as hell wasn’t smart. He eyed the keys clutched tightly in her fist. “Did you drive?”
The woman grinned up at him. She giggled again and rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
The problem was, he didn’t believe her. Jack was used to seeing straight through people. He was no damn hero, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to let her take to the streets and risk killing herself or others.
“I’ll call you a cab.” He slid his phone out of his back pocket. “What area do you live in?”
“Parkridge.”
He froze. No way. No damn way. “What a coincidence,” he said thickly. His eyes focused on the woman’s face, on her dainty jawline, her alabaster skin, the high cheekbones, her gorgeous eyes, but mostly on those full lips. He closed his eyes briefly and imagined what those lips would feel like wrapped around the base of his cock. It’s been a long damn time. Too fucking long. She’s not my type. “You work here?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, like she was trying to focus through her swimming head. “No,” she finally said. “I mean, uh- no. Technically no. Not right now.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re here by yourself then.”
She shook her head. “Is it that obvious that I’m pathetically single?”
Jack’s chest tightened. Something hard and feral leached into his bloodstream. It had been a long time. Over a year. No matter how he tried to justify coming to the fucking party, that he was changing it up, doing the opposite of what everyone expected, he had to admit that he was lonely. Lonely enough that he’d made the mistake of thinking the damn office party would help. Lonely enough to stoop to new pathetically low levels.
“What a coincidence,” he said again, voice like gravel. “I live in Maple Grove. I’ll get us a cab and I can drop you off along the way.”
“Really?”
Only because I don’t want to see you get killed. He dreaded reading the headlines in the morning that reported a drunk driving accident and a pedestrian related death.
He smoothly reached over and grabbed the brunette’s keys. He tucked them into his jacket pocket, regardless of her protests. He stepped to the right, fending off her attempts to reach them as he brought his phone to his ear to call for a cab.
As luck would have it, one pulled up to the glass doors. Jack didn’t bother waiting. He gripped the brunette’s arm and tugged her forward. She let out a startled gasp, but didn’t pull her arm away. By the time they were through the double doors, she’d relaxed enough into his grip. She was trusting. Far too trusting.
He wanted to do one good deed. One. Just one. He just hoped he could trust himself enough to drop her off at her house and continue on his way. Only a real bastard would bypass her neighborhood and continue to his. Only a real bastard, but then again, despite the fact that he looked the part, Jack had never been a good guy.
Chapter 3
It’s All The Same In The Dark
Tia
The guy in the cab with her was sex incarnate. He was the kind of guy that women would do anything to get in bed with. The kind that did things to people. Did things as in caused a few wet panties. Her own would probably have been soaked, if she’d worn any.
Stupid. Tia Reid had been so nervous about going to the damn Christmas party that she’d doused her nerves with a few shots of vodka before she even left the house. Stupid. She was stupid for even considering going to a party when she’d just been hired and didn’t even start until the following Monday. Stupid. It was ridiculous that HR even extended the invitation. Stupid. It was stupid that she was alone and had been so self-conscious she’d had far too many drinks throughout the evening. Stupid. It was even worse that since she broke up with Jeremy eight months ago, she hadn’t had the willpower to pick herself back up and put herself back out there.
