X Marks the Spot (Executioners MC Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  X Marks the Spot

  An Executioners MC novel

  By: Kimmie Easley

  COPYRIGHT © 2016

  X Marks the Spot

  Kimmie Easley

  Published by: Wine Worthy Romance

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means either electronic or mechanical. Including but not limited to, photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you received this book from any vendor other than Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, or Createspace, please go to one of the vendors listed and purchase the book legally.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  What a whirlwind. This book has been a game changer for me and my career. I wouldn’t have that career if it weren’t for my amazing husband, Daniel. He has talked me down more times than I care to admit, and I have no doubt there are many more to come. We have a standing date, my love, under the stars!

  D+K

  I want to thank the readers for giving me words of encouragement and helping keep me focused on this project. Cheers to each and every one of you! To my snatches- yeah, you know who you are, snatches be crazy. I love you both to the moon and back! My heart is overflowing when it comes to friends and encouragement. I am truly blessed. Thank you Kelley, DeLaine, and Abbie for the unconditional ‘everything’. I love and appreciate you ladies more than you know. Much love to my personal assistant, Tammy Becraft. You busted your ass to help keep me sane and bring this book to light. I adore you and it’s going to be a great ride!

  CREDITS:

  Cover Model: Alfie Gordillo

  Cover Photographer: Reggie Deanching of R+M Photography

  Cover Designer: DeLaine Roberts of Graphic Expressions

  DEDICATION

  To those who ride.

  CHAPTER ONE

  (Jolene)

  The intense heat from the flames radiated across the barren patch of grass littered with debris. My once baby blue eyes were now red and enflamed, seared from the smoke and ash. My chestnut locks were a mere rat’s nest, tangled with dirt and wooden splinters. I attempted to prop myself up on my wobbly elbows, but the weight on my chest was unbearable. My heavy lungs were like solid cinder blocks, snuffing out the air. I collapsed, but not before spotting Ronin’s massive frame barreling back into the house. My childhood home, which was now nothing more than an out of control blaze of crumbling rubble.

  Childhood home.

  Child.

  I ran my hand over my rounding tummy, silently pleading, begging for some kind of sign. I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing tears to stream down the sides of my face, dampening my disheveled hair. My breathing shallowed as I heard my name.

  “Jo, don’t you fucking die on me.”

  The words escaped through a deep, throaty growl.

  I pried open my heavy, swollen eyelids to find Ronin crouched down over my aching body. His gorgeous face was twisted with torment, his chocolate eyes flooded with fear. His full lips trembled between his mustache and thick beard. Ronin brushed a strand of matted hair from my face and that’s when I noticed his blood soaked hands.

  The last thing I remembered was the thunderous rumble of the motorcycles roaring down the street, melded with the high pitch sirens of the fire trucks. The cops followed, and hopefully, an ambulance wasn’t far behind.

  Hold on, Baby X. Please, hold on for mommy …

  ***

  “Brad, do you have to be such a damn pig?” I hopped up from the leather sofa and crossed the room, slipping on my new Louboutins and snatching up my purse. Brad never moved. The way he reclined on the couch with his shirt halfway unbuttoned and a shit-eating grin on his face made my blood boil.

  “Are we really going to do this again?” He asked, obviously annoyed.

  I shuffled my feet in an attempt to hide my uneasiness. I get myself caught up in the most jacked up situations. “Apparently, since you can’t seem to get a clue.”

  “Yeah, I know. You want to be wined and dined. I get it. Why the hell do you think I paid a fortune to have Claremont’s cater dinner?”

  I leveled my gaze at him. How could such a brilliant attorney be such a dumbass? “That’s my point, catered in. We never go anywhere. God forbid we be seen in public together. You’re embarrassed of me.”

  Brad stood and smoothed out the wrinkles on his pressed slacks. “Come on, it’s not like that and you know it. We talked about this. You know I’m trying to make partner. It’s not professional to get caught screwing the new girl.”

  “Newsflash, I haven’t been the new girl for two years now. And people already know, genius.” I stormed out of Brad’s apartment, leaving him standing there with a gaping mouth and his metaphorical dick in his well-manicured hands.

  Prepping for a bank fraud deposition would probably be more exciting anyway. If not, I still had my designated B.O.B to do the trick. My vibrator had more personality in its pink tip than that douchebag had in his entire body.

  I poured myself a glass of wine to settle my nerves. Brad was an arrogant asshole.

  We had been seeing each other for six months now. Who am I kidding? It’s just been a long series of late night hookups. I was nothing more than a high priced piece of ass.

  I stripped off my expensive pantsuit and tugged on an old tee. Piling my hair up into a messy ponytail, I strolled to the bathroom to wash my face. I detested make-up, only wearing a minimal amount for work. Brad, on the other hand, loved it. The more the better. He liked to remind me that I needed to be painted and poised for court. He said that it made me appear more professional instead of like a young girl playing dress up.

  I snapped my phone into the dock, clicked the playlist button, and flung myself across the bed, better known as my home office. I took a generous sip of Chardonnay as I made a mental list of paperwork that I needed to take care of as I prepared for a long night ahead.

  After hours of reading over affidavits and polishing off the bottle of wine, I turned off the table lamp in hopes of fending off the insomniac demons that I have been wrestling with for years. Snarky bastards. Not that it mattered anyway. As I settled in, my phone buzzed, vibrating against the wooden nightstand.

  Assuming that it was Brad, I rolled my eyes and reached across the bed to silence the buzzing when I noticed the caller ID flash across the touch screen.

  Jessa Miller.

  I hadn’t spoken
to my older sister in over a year, and even then, it was only because Jessa had picked up our dad’s phone when I called for Christmas. Blood flooded my ears. My hands trembled as I held my cell thinking back on the last conversation I’d had with Jessa. A fucking disaster.

  The wine sloshed around in my stomach. Nothing good ever came out of Jericho, California. Including myself.

  Ding.

  I attempted to regain my composure before listening to the voicemail. I forced my shaky finger to press the tiny voicemail icon.

  “Jo, this is Jessa. I know you don’t wanna hear from me. And to be honest, the feeling is mutual, but I had no choice. You need to come home. It’s important. Pop needs you. The club needs you.”

  Click.

  My sister never had been much on pleasantries or manners.

  One sentence rang in my ears. “Pop needs you.” Fuck the club. I couldn’t put enough space between me and The Executioners. However, when it came to my pop, that was damn near impossible. Jesse Miller was the president of The Executioners Motorcycle Club, and like always, the club came first.

  I silenced my phone before tossing back an Ambien. I tried to shove the call out of my mind as I tugged the comforter up over my face. If it involved the MC, it was nothing that couldn’t wait until morning.

  ***

  I stirred, stretching my arms high above my head. The blanket was wadded up into a ball and my pillow was on the floor. The distinct aroma of coffee tickled my nose. I climbed out of bed and tried to shake off the sleeping pill hangover. With wobbly legs, I rounded the corner to find Brad standing in my kitchen, making himself at home with my newspaper.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His head shot up and he flashed his million-dollar smile. “Morning, sleepyhead. Made you some coffee.”

  I reluctantly took the offered mug and inhaled the steamy liquid of the gods. I could live off nothing but coffee and alcohol.

  Brad leaned in and gently kissed my cheek, a dead giveaway. He was up to something. “I was going to make you a nice breakfast, but there’s nothing edible in this house.”

  I raised my mug in the air. “This is all I need, thanks. Again, what are you doing here?”

  He relaxed his beaming smile, drawing his lips into a serious line. “I didn’t like the way we left things last night.”

  Here we go. I released a heavy sigh. Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against the counter. “And you thought breaking in and making coffee would set things right?”

  Planting himself directly in front of me, Brad ran one hand under the hem of my shirt. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said as he wagged his eyebrows.

  Slapping his hand away, I sneered. “I’m not stupid. You didn’t get laid last night and you’re horny.”

  “Who says I didn’t?” He winked.

  The man was a real jackass. “Damn, you’re an asshole.” I escaped his hold by dipping out from underneath his arm. “You don’t just show up at someone’s house and let yourself in without asking permission.”

  “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. Besides, I tried to call three times. Your phone must be off or dead.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. I tried to piece together the night before and the message from my sister. Darting down the hallway, with Brad following close behind, I fumbled around for my cell phone.

  Five missed calls.

  “What the hell, Jolene? You’re acting weird. What’s the deal? I’m not into playing games. I’m not a kid from the hill country. There are literally hundreds of women waiting to take your place.”

  Hill country?

  I leveled my gaze. “You need to go.”

  Brad threw his hands in the air. “What happened to your sense of humor? You know I’m only joking.”

  My pulse raced. I was at my breaking point. The anxiety of not knowing what was going on back home was physically and mentally exhausting. I shoved the hair back from my forehead, forgetting that I had just rolled out of bed. “Seriously, you need to go.”

  Brad furrowed his trimmed eyebrows before the stone expression fell over his face like a blanket. “Fuck it. I don’t need this shit.”

  After the front door slammed, I stumbled backwards and plopped down on the side of the bed. My fingers refused to function as I struggled to listen to the voicemails. The first was a hang up call. The next three were Brad, obviously irritated that he wasn’t the center of attention.

  The final message was from Jessa. My heart stopped at the serious, curt tone in my sister’s voice.

  “Jo, this is not the time for this stubborn ass bullshit. Pick up the fucking phone.” She paused for a moment. “Fine, you need to come home. Shit is going down with the club. Serious shit. Call me back.”

  Serious shit with the MC.

  Dammit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  (Ronin)

  “This is bullshit and you know it. A fucking witch hunt.” Rage boiled deep in my gut as I paced the tiny room. My vision was still blurry and my head hurt like a motherfucker.

  “Look man, you’re gonna need to calm down.”

  My shoulders throbbed as I whipped my head around, snarling at Jimmy X. Jimmy was the club’s VP and the only levelheaded son-of-a-bitch in the crew.

  Jimmy put his hands up, palms out, and took a couple of steps backwards. “Boy, back up now. I know you’re a big ass motherfucker, but Herc’s bigger. Don’t make me call him in here. You know he doesn’t like confrontation.”

  I pumped my fists. My nostrils flared as I scanned the room, surveying my brothers one by one.

  Jimmy must have been the poor fucker who drew the short straw. He stood in the middle of the room, with the crew strategically planted around him. Stoner, a fellow club veteran, stood off to one side. The way he bounced on the balls of his feet gave away his shot nerves. Zombie, a soldier, sidled up next to Jimmy. However, he was careful to stay one foot behind his senior. He was a greasy fuck, inside and out. A first class bastard. And by the look of his greasy smirk, he was hoping that I got out of line. The douchebag was itching to pounce.

  Patsy, Zombie’s old lady, had backed herself into a far corner. That Prince Charming of hers had managed to beat any ounce of self-esteem right out of her.

  Hercules, the MC’s Enforcer, was better known as Herc. He lagged behind, filling the doorframe, ready to bolt if given the chance. His gaze darted around the room, trying not to make eye contact with me. He folded his arms across his humongous chest and jutted his chin into the air. The big brood was trying to appear tough. He was gigantic, standing at six eight and three hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle. My own six three frame seemed average next to my big, tenderhearted brother.

  “Where’s Jesse?” My chest heaved as the words escaped through clenched teeth.

  “He’s on his way. He and Clint had to take care of some business.”

  Clint was the MC’s Road Captain and if I had to pick one, my closest friend. He was the only thing I had when it came to a real family. The fact that he and Jesse were MIA was a bad sign.

  Jimmy took another step in my direction, with Zombie close on his heels.

  “Son, you know I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

  Instincts kicked in and I widened my stance. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I rubbed the back of my head, feeling the painful lump that had already doubled in size. “One of you hit me over the damn head.”

  Zombie’s face twisted into a snarl as he snickered. “That would be me. That tire iron left a pretty nasty mark.”

  I sprang into action and lunged at Zombie. My vision tunneled, the room faded to black as the bump on my head throbbed, sending a shooting pain through my right eye.

  “Hell yeah!” Zombie braced himself with a switchblade in hand.

  The only thing I remembered was the sight of Herc barreling into the room and then struggling for air.

  Lights out.

  ***

  “Hey there, handsome. Good to see you’re still w
ith us. Herc will be thrilled to hear the good news.”

  I pried open my heavy lids. Realizing I was on the couch, I swung my long legs over the side and planted my size thirteen boots on the floor. Jessa used the opportunity to plop down beside me. Her cheap, heavy perfume made my nose twitch.

  She might be the Prez’s daughter, but she was a fucking mess. One that I wanted no part of, although babysitting her had somehow evolved into part of my job description.

  I struggled to stand, but quickly fell back onto the couch.

  “Easy, big boy.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and massaged until I rudely shook her off, not that she would get the hint.

  She was always pawing at me. Delusional bitch.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  She left one hand next to my arm, grazing her fingertips along my bare bicep. “Seems like you had to be taken down a notch and Herc was the weapon of choice. Choke hold.”

  I strained to swallow. The meathead must have done a real number on me this time. I’ll have to deal with him later.

  “Jesse here yet?”

  She stood and readjusted the strap of leather she called a top. “No, but he’ll explain when he gets back from Chico. We were put on lockdown.”

  “Lockdown? What the fuck’s in Chico?”

  She peered down at me. I hated the way the small glint in her eyes reminded me of the past. They were too familiar, haunting, reminding me of the life I could have had.

  Jessa planted a hand on her hip. “Look, I told you we’re on lockdown. That’s all I can say. You know how it goes. A bitch knows nothing.” She tossed her head to one side and blew me a flaming red lipstick kiss.

  She sashayed out of the room, leaving me to wonder why I was at the damn cabin in the first place. Lockdown? There must be some serious shit going down if Jesse put us on lockdown. Why the hell wasn’t I privy to the intel? As the club’s Sargent at Arms, I had every right to know, especially if the information put my brothers at risk.

  Air, I needed some fucking air. The room was closing in around me. I stepped out onto the porch to try to clear my head, only to find two wide-eyed prospects standing guard.