JAX: MC Biker Romance (New Adult Contemporary Bad Boy Romance)
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Authors: Casey Elliot
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Jax
MC Biker Romance
By: Casey Elliot
© Copyright 2016 Casey Elliot - All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Introduction
Being with this guy is a bad decision. Oh well…
Annabelle LeRange and her best friend have just moved into an apartment in a sketchy part of town, right across from a biker bar. So, what do they do? Go check out the bar, of course. When she attracts the smoldering gaze of the sexy biker across the room, Annabelle knows she’s out of her depth.
The question is not “if” Jax Barton will have the shy redhead, but ‘when’… if only she wasn’t so determined to make it as difficult as possible. It’s a situation that Jax isn’t familiar with—he can’t have her, but he also can’t get her out of his head.
There’s a line between their worlds, and Annabelle is straddling it. But, will she choose to stay safe in her tower in the end, or will she finally give in to her dark side?
This is a 10k word novella.
Chapter 1
Annabelle
“Is that your last box?”
Melissa had just staggered through the door holding an overloaded cardboard box with clothes spewing out the top of it; she peeked her face out from behind it, red and sweaty.
“Yep, just sent off my parents.”
“Aw, no goodbye?” I grinned mischievously at her, and took the box from her arms, setting it on the coffee table.
“Christ, it was like they couldn’t get out of here fast enough! Why were yours so loving?”
I shrugged, “Probably because I’m the last to leave the nest. Your parents have got another two kids and ten years before they can expect to be freed.”
“You’re probably right.”
We’d moved in most of our stuff over the weekend, but Melissa’s parents had been slowly gathering the rest of the stuff she’d left at her house and shipping it over when and as they could. But now, with this box, we were finally done.
“I can’t believe we’re living together,” I said. I grinned at her, “Since when was this a good idea?”
She cackled and began pulling things out of the box. “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”
We both knew that wasn’t true. Melissa and I were probably the last people who would ever do anything devious. She had just finished her business undergrad, and was starting a job as an analyst in town, and I had a bachelor of science and a job at the aquarium… selling tickets, mind you, but I was certain I’d find something a little more relevant before long.
I looked around at our apartment. It had been worth the wait as far as first apartments went. It was way bigger and nicer than anything you could get in the city center, but really, we were only a fifteen minute bus ride away. And, we had a dishwasher; very important things.
The only downside?
“Are they going to let me into the office on Monday if they know I’m living in Malton?” Melissa asked; staring out the window with her nose wrinkled in disgust. I followed her line of sight to a weathered, old man staggering down the sidewalk, clearly drunk. He also looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.
“Just hope that they don’t look too closely at your tax forms,” I suggested.
I let my gaze stray slightly further down the street to where a shady looking bar called The Cruise sat; windows dark and empty.
“I guess we get to see just how loud that is tonight,” I said.
Melissa murmured in agreement.
The Cruise was open every night of the week but only played music on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Our landlord, Aaron, had told us that it wasn’t that loud, and anyway, we had double glazed windows. Still, it looked like a rough-and-tumble place; certainly, not somewhere I could picture myself going.
“So,” I said, clapping my hands and turning to Melissa, “A drink?”
“Or ten!”
She didn’t start work until Monday, and I’d taken the weekend off in anticipation spending my time organizing. More than that, though, I just needed a little time away from responsibility. I’d spent the last four years of my life in a never ending cycle of school and work. I just wanted to relax a little in my new apartment with my best friend.
I pulled the bottle of champagne from the fridge that we’d been reserving for the last box.
“Last box bottle,” Melissa whispered.
“Lost box bottle,” I whispered in reply.
We looked up at each other and descended into giggles. I took the foil off and then held the bottle in front of me, waggling my eyebrows. Melissa held her breath as I twisted the top and, with a loud pop, the cap punched away from the bottle.
And with that, the night had officially begun.
Chapter 2
“Tune!” Melissa called, fisting her wine glass above her head. It was a phrase she’d picked up when she’d studied abroad in England for a semester. Far as I could tell, it meant that she liked the song.
“Another one,” I replied, nodding toward The Cruise. “Apparently, they've got some wicked music game.”
We were sitting out on our balcony, half of which overlooked The Cruise. It was a little bit more exposed than I would have liked with a metal railing providing little protection from prying eyes, but at this point, I was too drunk to really care.
The air was warm, and we were dressed appropriately in shorts and tank tops; our feet bare and pressed against the warm vinyl of the deck. It was one of the longest days of the year, so the sun was just beginning to set. That didn’t seem to both the partygoers of The Cruise any. They were flocking in droves. Apparently, it was Malton’s hottest hot-spot.
“I can’t believe there’s such a happening bar just across the street from us,” Melissa said. “It was a lot easier to laugh about going there when it didn’t seem like we were missing out.”
I laughed. “You want to go to The Cruise?”
She shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t hate it. It could be an adventure, you know?”
“Like some sort of sociological experiment?”
She clinked glasses with me. “Always the science mind.”
I looked down at the windows of The Cruise again, lit from the inside by a couple haggard strings of colored lights. “I suppose; at least, this way we’ll know if we’re missing out or not.”
She leaped to her feet, downing the rest of her wine. “So, we’re doing this then? We’re going to The Cruise?”
I followed her up. “For science!”
We spent the bare minimum amount of time getting ready since we were both already pretty drunk. I left my hair down around my shoulders and didn’t bother with any makeup. I put on my favorite black miniskirt though, and a flowy tank top that exposed just the right amount of cleavage. I figured I should at least try to look the part. Melissa went even further than that. She rummaged through her drawers until she found her denim micro mini, and paired it with a gauzy black top with a pink bra underneath.
“Go big or go home,” she said with a wink when she came out from her room.
I laughed and grabbed my purse, shoving some cash and our cards in it.
We crossed the street just as the last rays of the sun had disappeared over the tops of the buildings, and the sky was turning an inky blue. As we approached the front door, a loud rumbling and a couple hoots from behind us nearly scared us out of our skins. A group of bikers shot past, turning right at the end of the building to access the parking lot.
I looked over at Melissa, waggling my eyebrows. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, ey?”
She threaded her elbow through mine and we entered.
The interior was dimly lit, and it was full of people. There were pool tables in the corner by the door and up on a raised ledge beside the bar. The dance floor was surrounded by little circular tables where people of all ages were drinking and shouting over the music. It wasn’t like I had pictured it would be. Yes, it was still trashy. There were no less than three stripper poles on the raised platform beside the dance floor.
Besides all that though, it just seemed like... a bar; nothing crazy. There were people sitting, having a quiet drink. There were people dancing wildly to the Bruno Mars song playing. There were also people who looked like they would eat anyone that approached them, and I recognized them as the bikers who had passed us outside. If we just avoid them, we could probably end up having a decent time.
“Drinks?” I suggested.
Melissa nodded, and we headed to the bar where a tall, slender brunette was pouring shots. We ordered two gin and sevens, which were way cheaper here than anywhere in downtown Kingston would have been. The downside was that they had no beers on tap, and clearly no ability to make anything more complicated than highballs with the mix.
Whatever. That was their business. I would take the cheaper drinks with less variety any day.
We took one of the few empty tables by the dance floor; our backs to the scary guys in the corner. From that vantage point, The Cruise almost looked normal… minus the stripper poles; of course.
The next song was Melissa’s favorite, and she pulled me up and toward the dance floor, the liquid in my glass sloshing dangerously. “It’s time!” she called.
Whatever time it was, I was ready. I loved dancing, especially when the music was as good as it was here. The flashing neon lights and the crowd of people felt like home to me, and I swung my hips and moved my arms toward the ceiling with happiness. There was the perfect amount of people on the floor—enough that we weren’t dancing by ourselves, but not so many that we couldn’t move. I was free to do all the weird and fancy footwork that was normally reserved for when I danced around my room while cleaning.
Melissa laughed at me like she always did, but damn if I wasn’t the dancing queen.
I twirled, my eyes scanning the room again. I caught the eyes of someone across the room and I stopped on a dime. He was over with the group of scary bikers, but leaning up against the table rather than sitting on it. His hair was black or as close to it as a brown could get. He was probably a half foot taller than me with a thick, square jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble. And, he was staggeringly hot.
I resumed my dancing, aware that he’d seen me lose my shit upon seeing him, but determined to play it off. I looked back to Melissa who had caught my stare and was now looking at me with wide eyes.
She leaned into my ear. “That boy is trouble.”
I glanced over at him again, taking stock of his appearance; the same leather vest as all the other bikers were wearing, which said “Brixton MC” on the back, and a white t-shirt underneath that was just tight enough for me to see that he was completely corded with muscles… tattoos covering his arms and creeping up his neck… fingerless leather gloves, and a bold stare that in no way matched the leisurely way he was leaning up against the table.
“That’s no boy,” I said, trying to keep my voice as quiet as the music would allow. “That’s a man.”
