Precarious Read online

  Precarious

  Jokers' Wrath MC

  Bella Jewel

  Published by Bella Jewel, 2014.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  ~*PRECARIOUS*~

  PRECARIOUS | Copyright © 2014 Bella Jewel

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  DEDICATION | This book is dedicated to my very own biker, my husband. Thank you for the countless hours you have put in to helping me out with my work, or just keeping the kids busy while I write.

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE | Ahead of the darkness is where I’ll find him. | ASH

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~*~*~*~`

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN | TRISTAN

  ASH

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | KRYPT

  CHAPTER NINETEEN | ASH

  SANTANA

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | SANTANA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | ASH

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MADDOX

  THE END

  Other works from Bella Jewel | MC Sinners – Hell’s Knights, Heaven’s Sinners and Knights’ Sinner | Stand alones – Number Thirteen, Angels In Leather, Life After Taylah, Wingman, Enslaved By The Ocean. | MELANCHOLY – September 15th 2014

  CHAPTER 1 | 2007 – Santana

  ~*PRECARIOUS*~

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under 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.

  PRECARIOUS

  Copyright © 2014 Bella Jewel

  Precarious is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content, as it is FICTION.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A massive thanks to all the blogs on my tours. You’re amazing for taking the time to share and review for me; you’ll never know how much that means to me.

  A special thanks to Love Between The Sheets for always having time to organize my Release Day Blitz and Cover Reveals. You ladies are super amazing and I’ll always appreciate the effort you’ve given me.

  Thanks to Lisa from Three Chicks and Their Books for always reading an ARC before releasing and helping me out. Thanks to Kylie from Give Me Books for always sharing and reading for me, too. You girls are amazing. I adore you.

  A massive thanks to Ari from Cover it Designs for this gorgeous cover. You never disappoint.

  To Lauren, my crazy, awesome editor. You do such a great job. I couldn’t do it without you. I adore you, lovely.

  To my girls, Belle Aurora and Sali. For always reading and helping me create the best work I can. For always talking to me and making me smile. I love you two, my besties.

  And of course, to my admin MJ for ALWAYS keeping my page running beautifully. I couldn’t do it without you, girly.

  A massive thank you to Kris Scharr. For coming up with the amazing name of Jokers’ Wrath MC. As well as picking the name of a character to show throughout the series. You’re a gorgeous girl and an amazing fan. Thank you.

  And, last but certainly not least. To my loyal readers. You make this real for me; never stop giving such love and passion. You make our journey so amazing.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my very own biker, my husband. Thank you for the countless hours you have put in to helping me out with my work, or just keeping the kids busy while I write.

  You know I’ll love you forever, my big man.

  PROLOGUE

  It is in darkness that we find true nature. We fight over the battle of good and evil. One will take us on a path we can live with, the other will take us on a path we can’t. There is no in-between. There is no right, or wrong. In that moment when our world is closing in on us, there is only ever really one way out.

  Evil will always prevail.

  In evil we find power. To escape the black pit of nothingness, it is a quality we need the most. To seek revenge, we will need all of it. It intertwines in a twisted spiral that can’t be backed away from—a spiral that will change our worlds, a spiral that will re-create who we are, a spiral that will leave us hanging on the edge of insanity.

  These things combined will lead me to do the one thing that will direct my path forever. When my choice is made, I’m ready. What I’m not ready for is her. I’ve gone a long time without feeling, but she’ll be the one to change that. In fact, she’ll change everything I ever believed in with one simple smile.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ahead of the darkness is where I’ll find him.

  ASH

  My boots thud on the stark, tiled floor as I make my way down the long, narrow halls. This place is familiar to me; I’ve spent the last five years of my life working here. I’m a prison guard. It’s not always the nicest job; I’m faced daily with scenes that would send a normal person over the edge.

  But to give up, to back down, has never been something I was good at. I’m as stubborn as I am headstrong, and that’s exactly why I’m good at my job. I’m thorough, I’m professional and I give the prisoners something that no one else can—I give them thought. I am always sure to leave them with something that will change a part of them permanently.

  They call me Wildcard, for more reasons than one: the first reason being they find it utterly hilarious that I’m a woman in a world that is so heavily dominated by men. The second reason is because I can take a man double my size down on a good day. I’m fierce, I’m wild, and that’s why they keep me here.

  I’m here for one reason and one reason only: to do my job. I paint my face with a mask that is rarely broken, making sure my eyes show no fear, making sure my expression doesn’t give away emotion. After all, it isn’t about me—it’s about them. They’re the ones in the cold, lonely cells for crimes they chose to commit. I’m just here to make sure they stay in line.

  I round the corner to the security gates, and smile when I see the Control Officer, Tristan. He’s a friend, both inside and outside of work. His job, basically, is to make sure the guards are always doing their jobs correctly. He’s fantastic at what he does, and he’s a great person to work with.

  “Good morning, Ash.” He smiles as I approach.

  “Morning, Tris. How are things this morning?”

  He shrugs. “Same as they were yesterday; hectic.”

  I laugh, reaching up to tuck a strand of chocolate-brown hair behind my ear. “It’s what we thrive on. Anything I need to know about this morning?”

  He runs a scanner over a fellow guard who is starting his shift for the day. It doesn’t matter if you’re a guard or a visit
or; you go through intensive security every visit. They can’t risk allowing weapons, or any items that can be used as weapons, inside the prison.

  “You’re on Ward D.” He winks. “They’re behaving so far.”

  I let out a snort, before stepping forward and putting my purse down. I lift my arms above my head and he runs the scanner over me.

  “Henry is on that ward,” I say. “How has he been behaving?”

  He shakes his head, running the scanner down over my legs. “How does he always behave? Nice shoes.”

  I grin down at my boots. I’m not the kind of girl to go for heels. I live in boots—knee-highs, ankle boots, Doc Martens, you name it. The ones I’m wearing today are black ankle boots that match my skinny jeans. Of course I don’t get to wear them long. As soon as I’m inside I have to get into uniform, but I don’t leave the house without looking sassy. “Thanks, they were a bargain.”

  “You’re good,” he says, waving me through. “Have a good day. Meet me for lunch?”

  I nod. “Absolutely.”

  I go through quite a long process just to get into Ward D. Even though we’re not a maximum-security prison, this is still where our worst inmates are kept. I am never without another two guards by my side when I’m working in that section, purely for safety reasons, and they’re usually male. There are only four female guards in the entire prison.

  The prisoners up here are problematic. They spend a great deal of time with our prison psychologist because of the crimes they’re in here for. It’s her job to decide if they need further treatment in a mental facility. There have been countless suicides. They’re criminals, and in most cases their minds are challenged in some way, shape, or form. It’s why they choose to do the sick and deranged things they do. In a majority of cases, there is pain that stems from childhood that leads to such activities.

  “Morning, Ash,” Luke, the guard standing outside the ward, says when I approach.

  Luke is only slightly older than me, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes. He seems nice enough, but he doesn’t usually say a great deal. It’s probably perfect with this job, because he’s always straight to the point and doesn’t get caught up in any drama.

  “Hey Josh. How are things this morning?”

  He shrugs, staring down the hall. “Fine. You ready to do your rounds?”

  I nod. Usually rounds are what I do first. I go around, check out the cells and the prisoners, and then I’m usually sectioned in a certain area where I’ll spend the day. Sometimes it’s in the break room, other times it’s in the yard, and there are also times when I do paperwork in the office. It just depends on the behavior of the prisoners that day.

  I head in to get changed, gather my weapons, and then join Luke back at the gates, ready for our rounds.

  Our uniform is quite simple. We wear a dark green pair of pants, a light green button-up, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of solid boots. Our hair—in a female’s case—needs to be either short or tied up tightly. No jewelry.

  “We’ll check Maximus first, and move down from there.”

  I nod, following him down.

  Maximus is one of our more difficult prisoners. He’s been behind bars for only about a year after murdering his wife in a rage. He’s an angry, bitter man who barely makes progress, spending most of his time cramped in his cell.

  Maximus is serving life in prison. He’s in his early thirties, and has a history of violence. His first crime was at the tender age of fifteen, when he held up a gas station with a gun. He beat the woman behind the counter so badly she had to have reconstructive surgery to her face. That was just that start of his spiral into a violent life.

  Maximus is tall, bulky and bald. He’s got a range of tattoos on his body, running down his arms, and even over his fingers. He has got stark blue eyes, and a cold smile. His inner thoughts are quite disturbing, and I feel it has a lot to do with his life as a boy. His father was sent to prison when Maximus was only four for sexual assault. His mother was a drug-using whore, and spent most of her time high and in the arms of other men.

  We stop at his cell and look in. As always he’s staring at the wall, fists balled tightly.

  We are guards, but we are also sent here to be role models for the prisoners. They notice how we behave and how well we interact; we can hold our own, but we also show them a certain level of respect that is said to help them cope.

  “Good morning, Maximus,” I say.

  He turns and locks eyes with me, narrowing them just slightly.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” I ask him, returning his stare, holding his gaze.

  He glares at me. “I don’t fuckin’ sleep.”

  “Any reason why?”

  He growls. “Because I don’t trust any fucker in this place. They’re all out for blood.”

  Did I mention Maximus has a bad case of paranoia? He’s probably not entirely wrong. There is a certain ranking within the inmates; certain groups that stick together, and certain people who tend to be targeted. Anyone who murders or rapes children barely ever make it through their sentence alive. It’s like a secret code. The next in that line are men who hurt women. There are a lot of those, but they too seem to be a target.

  “Has something happened we need to know about?” Luke asks, his voice firm but kind.

  Maximus shifts, his big body extremely daunting.

  “I see them lookin’ at me. They’re just waitin’ for the right time to wrap their hands around my throat and squeeze the fuckin’ life out of me.”

  “Why would you think they want to do that?” I ask. “Has something happened? You know you should report anything that happens.”

  His eyes narrow and his whole body rattles. “I killed my fuckin’ wife. I put my hands around her throat and took her life. They’re just gettin’ back what she lost.”

  “Perhaps you need to speak to Mandy again,” I say, referring to our Prison Psychologist. “It would seem you’re still struggling to deal with—”

  “Listen to me, bitch,” he hisses, cutting me off. “Hows about you go back to your hoity-toity little palace and leave us here to live with what we’ve created. I don’t regret killing her; I don’t regret watching the life fade from her eyes as I held her to the floor. Nothing your little psychologist will say can change that, so give it up.”

  I get this a lot, too. The name-calling, the ‘give it up, you can’t help me’. I guess, in a sense, they’re right. I can’t truly help them if they don’t want to be helped. After all, they’re in prison because of the crimes they committed; I’m just here to make sure it all runs smoothly, however I do try to make it as comfortable as possible for them. I make a note to tell Mandy about his comments, though.

  “Fine,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Are you eating? Joining in the other activities?”

  His eyes flash. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t fuckin’ want to. Because I want to get out of here alive.”

  “Why do you want to get out of here alive?”

  He clenches his fists. “Because I have unfinished business.”

  I raise my brows and he snorts. “Don’t look at me like that, Wildcard. I know what you’re thinkin’.”

  Oh yeah, did I mention the nickname has spread? The prisoners learned it very quickly the day I put one of the inmates on his ass for lunging at me. It was in the yard, and he decided he’d had enough and tried to take me out. It lasted a matter of seconds before he was on his back. I don’t like to go down easily.

  “What is it you think I’m thinking?” I ask, leaning my hip against the cell.

  “That I’m goin’ to do something bad and get back in here. Well, you’re wrong. I will never come back in here.”

  “I hope that’s true,” I say, pushing back. “Good to see you again, Maximus.”

  Luke gives me a half-smirk and we move down the hall to the next cell. This one holds Jimmy. He’s only twenty-eight years old. Jimmy suffers from schizophrenia, a
nd so far is dealing with prison life, however Mandy is working on getting him moved to a better-equipped mental facility. We like to check on him, make sure he’s doing okay, but he rarely comes out.

  He’s serving fifteen years for pulling off an armed robbery at a bank. He shot three people, killing one. He got away with a whole lot of cash, and was caught only weeks later. To look at him you’d think Jimmy was just a normal man, with his sandy-blond hair and green eyes, but there’s so much going on behind that exterior.

  “Good morning, Jimmy,” I say, staring into his cell where he’s sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He does this most days.

  He looks up at me, his eyes empty.

  “It’s good to see you,” I say, my voice strong.

  I am tough when it comes down to needing to control one, but otherwise I speak to prisoners in a calm, respectful tone. There is no need to make matters worse.

  Jimmy begins murmuring to himself, answering questions and making out like he’s speaking to another person.

  “Do you know what Bill told me?” he asks, finally focusing on me.

  Bill is one of the voices that haunt Jimmy.

  “What did he tell you, Jimmy?”

  “He told me how to escape. He showed me how to kill the guards and get out.”

  Slightly concerning, but mostly talk. It would be extremely difficult to escape. In fact, I’d go as far as saying it’s impossible.

  “But you know what would happen if you escaped, Jimmy. Don’t you?”

  He shakes his head from side to side. “Bill will keep me safe.”

  “Have you talked to Mandy this week?” I ask.

  He presses his cuffed hands to his chest, suddenly changing the subject. “It hurts right here, like I can’t breathe.”

  Jimmy also suffers from severe nightmares. Jimmy’s mother tried to drown him in the bath when he was five. He remembers it clearly and tells me often, repeating her exact words.

  “My momma tried to drown me,” he says, his eyes going vacant as he repeats the same words she told him, words he’s told me so many times over. “Jimmy, you’re a bad child, and bad children go to hell. I can’t look after a bad child anymore. You make me angry because you’re such a bad, fat, ugly child. I am doing you a favor. This is where you’re meant to be.”