JOKER_An Evil Dead MC Story Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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 Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Preview of HAMMER

  Also by Nicole James

  JOKER

  An Evil Dead MC Story

  By

  Nicole James

  JOKER

  An Evil Dead MC Story

  Nicole James

  Published by Nicole James

  Copyright 2018 Nicole James

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Cover Photography by CJC Photography - http://www.cjc-photography.com/

  Cover Model: Jamieson Fitzpatrick

  Editing by Cookie Lynn Publishing

  Chapter One

  “Remember when you showed up at the clubhouse, and I took you in and personally sponsored you? I told you the day would come when I’d need that favor repaid.”

  Joker ran a hand down his face. He’d been dreading this day for weeks. Sitting across the desk from his chapter president, he tried to hold back his irritation. He couldn’t tell the man no, couldn’t question his decision, and he sure as hell couldn’t fail him.

  “We talked about this. You said you were good with it, so what’s with the attitude? You got a problem with it now?”

  Joker dropped his booted ankle from his knee, sat up straighter, and met Undertaker’s eyes. “No. No problem. You want me to be her new shadow, then I’m her new shadow.”

  Undertaker’s eyes narrowed. “I need someone I can trust not to fuck this up. I was thinkin’ that was you. Am I wrong?”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “Good.” Undertaker leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Just so I’m crystal clear. You take care of her like she’s family, you don’t let anything get past you, and you don’t fucking lose her. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m askin’ you because this means something to me. She means something to me.”

  Joker nodded. Oh, he was all too aware of that fact, but just what exactly this girl meant to his president, or why exactly she meant anything, he was fuckin’ clueless. The girl was a pain in his ass; hell, the girl had become a pain in everyone’s ass.

  But if Undertaker wanted him on protection duty, he’d take care of her. He wasn’t about to let his president down, not when the man had been such an integral part of his life. He owed Undertaker everything.

  “When’s this happening?”

  “Today. Now.”

  “Now?”

  “That a problem?”

  “I was supposed to meet a guy later today.”

  Undertaker cupped his hand to his ear. “You hear that? That’s a whole lot of not giving a fuck.”

  “Got it.”

  “You bring your pickup like I told you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. We’re all going over to Holly’s old apartment, loading up her stuff and takin’ her to the new place.”

  “Her sister bringing her?”

  Undertaker shook his head. “She and Blood are packing shit up. Thought it may be too traumatic for Holly to be there.”

  Joker wasn’t sure why it would be traumatic. He hadn’t been filled in on the whole backstory of this girl. He just knew she’d been through some shit. He’d been out of town when the club had made the raid on Blood’s old man’s place, Black Jack Boudreaux, the local crime boss and one bad motherfucker. Now a dead motherfucker, compliments of his son. How Holly ended up involved and brought to the clubhouse Joker still wasn’t clear on, but he didn’t ask a lot of questions. To tell the truth, he really didn’t give a fuck. That was Undertaker’s deal, and he was glad to leave it to him.

  “Holly riding over with you?” he asked.

  “Nope. AJ is. You’ve got Holly. Thought this would be a good chance for the two of you to get acquainted.”

  “We gotta be acquainted?” Joker’s brow shot up.

  “You’ll be spending a lot of time around each other, so yeah.”

  Joker’s eyes slid to the window. The girl was difficult to say the least, and hell if he planned to put up with that bullshit. Might as well lay it out for her—the sooner the better. “She ready now?”

  “I’ll bring her downstairs in a couple minutes. I want to talk to her first.”

  Joker stood. “That it?”

  Undertaker studied him. A shadow of a doubt crossed the man’s eyes, so Joker reassured him. “I got this.”

  His president nodded. “Anything happens to her, I’ll beat your ass.”

  “Right.” Joker turned to leave. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  ***

  Undertaker watched Joker walk toward the office door. He hoped he’d picked the right man for this job. The kid was young and cocky, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and his loyalty was never in question.

  ***

  Holly’s ear was pressed to the outside of the door. She’d only caught the end of the conversation, but they were talking about her.

  Undertaker was sending her away? No, it couldn’t be true. She jumped back as the door opened and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The man paused, his gaze skating over her, then turned back to his president. “This who you’re lookin’ for?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, brushing past her and down the hall. Her eyes followed him until Undertaker’s voice broke her stare.

  “Holly!”

  She jerked her head back. He raised his hand and curled two fingers, indicating she come in. She gave him a smile, trying her best to cover how upset she was at what she’d overheard. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah. Sit down.”

  She took a chair.

  “No use pussy-footin’ around it, so I’m givin’ it to you straight, babe. We’re gonna load up your stuff today and haul it to the new place.”

  Her eyes dropped to the hands in her lap. “Oh.”

  “You got the keys?”

  She nodded. “Picked them up last week.”

  “Good.”

  “Couldn’t we wait until tomorrow—?”

  “Nope. School starts back Monday. You’ve still got shit to unpack and get settled.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, darlin’. It’s a done deal. You got my number. You need me, you call me anytime. Joker’s waitin’ downstairs for you.”

  She turned her head, her eyes on the door. Joker—the man who’d just walked out of the office, she presumed. She was being pawned off on some club member like she was a chore.

  “Everything’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. You’ll see.”

  Undertaker’s soft words drew her gaze back to his face. He’d done so much for her—literally saved her life, took her in, gave her t
ime to heal, been more patient with her than she could ever ask for, and now it was her turn to pay him back by leaving gracefully.

  She swallowed down her fear and anger and rose to her feet, her knees suddenly feeling weak. “Thank you. Really, for everything.”

  He nodded. “You’re welcome, Holly. I only want the best for you, girl.”

  She put on a brave face. “Well, I’ll go then.”

  He didn’t stand or offer a hug like he had in the past, and she was actually grateful. If he had, she’d have lost it, collapsed into his arms, and burst into tears, begging him not to send her away. Perhaps he sensed that.

  She moved to the door, glancing back one last time, and that’s when she saw the look of worry on his face. She wanted him to be proud of her, so she lifted her chin and left the office with all the dignity she could muster, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Reaching the lower level, she saw the man from Undertaker’s office waiting by the front door, slouched against the frame. When he saw her approaching, he straightened.

  “Come on, sweet cheeks, you’re with me.”

  Her brow lifted. Was this guy for real?

  He opened the door and strode out, leaving her to follow if she wanted to reply to that comment, and she most definitely did. He stopped at his truck, and she finally had his attention again. “I’m not going anywhere with a man who calls me sweet cheeks.”

  “They warned me you’d be difficult.”

  She slammed her hands on her hips. “Who told you that?”

  “Everyone.”

  She rolled her eyes. “They did not.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Her hands dropped, but she was speechless.

  “No? Good. Get in the truck.” He opened the door for her.

  “No.”

  His shoulders slumped. He pivoted, scooped her up, and plopped her on the seat. Then he leaned in to buckle her seatbelt, and suddenly all she could think about was how good he smelled. He paused, nose to nose with her.

  “We’re not gonna have any more trouble, right?”

  She folded her arms, lifted her chin, and stared out the windshield, refusing to give him the answer he was waiting for.

  “Right?” he repeated.

  She finally deigned to look at him. “Oh, there’s going to be trouble. You can count on it.”

  He shook his head and pulled back, slamming the door closed. A moment later he was around the truck and sliding behind the wheel.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as he laid his arm on the back of the seat and twisted as he backed the truck out, then spun the wheel around and around to aim them at the gate. A moment later, they were across the gravel and pulling out onto the blacktop.

  She pressed her hand to the glass of her passenger window as the clubhouse where she’d felt so safe faded into the distance in her side-view mirror. As it did, her anxiety level rose. Her body flushed with heat and her pulse started to race. She drew in a deep calming breath like Dr. Carter had taught her and tried to remember Undertaker’s words. She’d heard him tell the man beside her that he’d beat his ass if he let anything happen to her.

  She dared to glance over at him.

  He had one wrist draped across the top of the wheel while he tapped the screen on the dashboard, clicking through songs till he found one he liked.

  His dark blond hair fell to just past his shoulders, and a sexy-as-hell beard grew along his jaw. It wasn’t overgrown like some of the others in the MC. Instead his was close to his face and looked like it’d be soft to touch.

  Now why had that thought popped into her head? Like she cared how soft his beard was. Her eyes moved to the road, her chin lifting, but a moment later, she was back to studying him out of the corner of her eye.

  He wore jeans, biker boots, and a white wife-beater undershirt that exposed his muscular arms and laid flat against his abs. She wondered inanely why he wasn’t wearing his black leather vest, the one all the brothers in the MC wore. But then she remembered Undertaker told her once they only wore them when they were on their bikes, not when they were in vehicles. Regardless of what he wore, she couldn’t deny the man was drop-dead gorgeous.

  She thought Undertaker had called him Joker, but she’d been so mad and upset at the time, it had barely registered. Now she wished she’d asked some questions. “What exactly is your job?”

  His eyes left the road to swing to her. “My job?”

  “In regards to me.”

  “I’m your new shadow.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Where you go, I go.”

  Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “For what?”

  “Don’t be obtuse.”

  “Ob-what?”

  “Don’t play stupid.”

  “Look, sugar, I’m no happier than you about this situation, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Wanna bet?” She threw his words from earlier back at him. The corner of his mouth pulled up as he glanced out the windshield. “You think I’m funny? Do you find me amusing?”

  “I find you a pain in the ass.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”

  “Don’t plan to, angel.”

  “What is with you and all these cutesy nicknames?”

  “Is all you do is bitch? This how it’s gonna be the whole time we’re together?”

  “Oh, so now I’m a bitch, too?”

  “You said it, babe.”

  “Stop with the fake endearments. I have a name. Use it.”

  He huffed out a breath, pulled the truck to the side of the road, and jammed it in park. Then he turned, and she found herself leaning against the door as he invaded her space.

  “Look, Holly, we need to get some things straight right here and now. I get you don’t like the situation. I’m not thrilled with it either, but we’re stuck with each other, so let’s try to get along.”

  “I don’t want to get along with you.”

  “This is what Undertaker wants. Remember him? The guy you’re so enthralled with? Wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?”

  She turned and faced the front, her arms folded and her jaw thrust out. “I don’t like you, and I don’t need you.”

  “I can turn this truck around and tell him you want someone different. Maybe he’ll put Sandman on you. Or Bam-Bam. Maybe you’d like them better.” He chuckled at the thought, and that only pissed her off more, but she stubbornly refused to answer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t about to let it drop.

  “Is that what you want?”

  When she still wouldn’t answer, he put the truck in gear and swung in a U-turn. Panic filled her at the thought of Undertaker being displeased. She sat up straight, her arms coming quickly unfolded, and her voice panicked as she demanded, “What are you doing?”

  “Takin’ you back. Suits me fine to dump your ass on one of my brothers. You can be their fucking problem.”

  “So, I’m a fucking problem?”

  “You’re acting like a stubborn child, throwing a tantrum because you can’t have your way.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “Then prove it. Start acting like a grownup.”

  “Turn the truck around!”

  He gave her a look. “Ask me nicely.”

  He had her, and he knew it, and that got on her last nerve. Didn’t he know she was scared to death? Couldn’t he tell she was distraught and freaked at the thought of leaving Undertaker and the safety of the club? He kept driving, waiting for her to concede. She had no choice; another hundred yards and they’d be at the stockade.

  “Please turn around,” she whispered.

  At least he didn’t rub it in or take pleasure from that small victory. Instead he quietly swung the truck back in the right direction.

  She stared out her window, wondering why she suddenly felt shaky and sick inside. Her anger was her last defense against her feelings. Without it, she could only sit there and feel—feel all the fear
and anxiety rolling through her. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to cope, and what if she couldn’t?

  She looked down at the phone clutched in her hand. She had Undertaker’s number. He’d programmed it into her cell phone. She could call him if it got too bad. She took in a deep slow breath, tried to calm herself, and repeated the mantra to herself. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

  Chapter Two

  The last of the boxes and furniture from the old apartment had been carried into Holly’s new place. The boys from the club had all left, except for Blood and Joker who stood out by the curb.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Holly insisted.

  Cat looked up from the bed she was making, shaking out the clean flat sheet and watching it float to the mattress. “Of course I’m staying. It’s your first night here.”

  “Everyone will think I’m a child.”

  “Who’s going to know?”

  “Blood will. And that other guy,” she spit out.

  “Joker?”

  “Yes, him!”

  “So what if he does? They all know this isn’t easy for you. He knows why he’s here.”

  “Oh, so I’m a laughing stock? Poor little messed up Holly—”

  “Stop. Don’t put yourself down like that. I mean it, Hol.”

  She plopped down on the bed. “I hate it here.”

  “You haven’t even given it a chance.”

  “And I hate him. He’s a jerk.”

  “Who? Joker?”

  “Yes, Joker. What a stupid name.”

  “Holly, you barely know the guy. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  “Did he do something?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “He told me to grow up.”

  “Oh. I see. He hurt your feelings.”

  “Now you make me sound like a child.”

  “Holly, he’s just here to protect you, to make you feel safe.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  “Please don’t say that. I feel bad enough as it is. Everything that happened to you was my fault. You must hate me.”

  “None of it was your fault. I’m sorry.”