Against My Lips, Motorcycle Romance: AcesWild MC Series

Jesse Dalton, AcesWild MC Biker

Against My Lips (AcesWild MC Romance)

BOOK 1

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J
ust two weeks after my 18
^th
birthday, I was sitting in a truck stop restaurant hundreds of miles from home, trying to figure out what my next step should be. I didn't know a single soul here near the Louisiana/Texas border, and that was fine with me. I had saved $1,000 from my cashier job at Wal-Mart over the past few months just to prepare for this journey, but I knew that wasn't going to last forever. I had taken the bus this far but if I kept going; I wouldn't have any money for food or emergencies. There would be no one to call for help if I got in trouble, so I needed to be smart.

The rest stop was filled with the smell of greasy breakfast food and stale smoke. Everyone looked like they hadn't slept in days, and there wasn't much talking going on. Any other girl my age probably would have been afraid, but after what I had endured at home this place might as well have been a carnival.

I picked at the eggs and bacon on my plate, but I didn't have much of an appetite. My new plan was to try to find a decent trucker who was headed in my direction that would let me ride with him for a little cash. I planned to stand just a little way down this dusty road and stick out my thumb, hoping for the best. I scanned the room for anyone who looked like they wouldn't murder me, and I settled on a guy wearing a baseball cap with kind brown eyes. He looked like he was probably in his early 40s, and he was clean. He was also smiling as he looked at something on his phone. I decided I would head out as soon as he looked like he was leaving.

He headed to the bathroom about five minutes later, and I hung back to watch which truck he climbed into, then I quickly headed down the road a ways to wait for him. I heard the loud rumble of his truck's engine, and I said a silent prayer to whoever was listening to please make him be the one to help me.

I needed a way out of the hell I had been living in. My stepfather, Steve, saved all of his pent-up anger toward my mother and took it out on me. Ever since she left me with him, he had drank himself into oblivion every night and found the smallest excuse to leave bruises on my body. To the community, he was an upstanding citizen; he was a police officer that helped people in trouble and took the bad guys off the streets. No one knew that he was a bad guy; the worst kind of man.

My mother had been my best friend. I had a great childhood, just the two of us after my dad died in a car accident. We never had much, but it didn't matter to me. She had worked hard as a medical secretary at Dr. Chase's office, and she always made sure I had everything I needed. Everything changed when she started dating Steve.

At first, he seemed like the perfect man. He would take us both out to dinner and bowling. He bought me nice presents for my birthday and never acted like I was in the way. What could be better than having a big, strong police officer around to protect us and take care of us? After just six months, my mom decided to marry him and move us into his house.

I got my own big bedroom and decorated it pink and purple. I was 14 years old, and I believed we had finally found a happy place. We were the perfect new family from the outside.

One night I was awakened by the sound of my mother crying downstairs. I crept quietly down and could see my mother curled in a ball against the wall hiding her face. Steve was standing over her, and I waited for him to crouch down and comfort her like a sweet husband should. Instead, I watched in horror as he pulled back his foot and kicked her as hard as he could in the side. She screamed out in pain, and I started to cry. When he walked away, telling her she was a piece of shit whore, her eyes met mine. I had never seen her look as ashamed as she did when she saw me. She motioned for me to go upstairs, so I ran to my bedroom and cried under my covers.

I tried to talk to her about it when Steve was at work, but she brushed it off, blaming herself. She said she wasn't trying hard enough to be a good wife and thank him for what he was doing for us. I let it go, but that wasn't the last time I saw it happen.

He would be loving and sweet to her in public, ever the perfect husband and father to me. But at least once a week his temper would flare, and my mother would get the brunt of his anger. I always managed to stay out of it until the day after I turned 16. I woke to find a note on my pillow from my mother. It said she had to go to California to start a new life for us and she would be back soon. She couldn't take the abuse anymore, and she said that she knew Steve would never hurt me.

I never got a chance to tell her how wrong she was about that. As soon as he figured out she was gone, he came to me looking for answers. I protected my mom and didn't tell him what I knew, so he slapped me hard across the face. The next day he apologized and brought home gifts for me, but I didn't want them. I just waited for her to come back for me, and then I would be free. But she never came back. When she saved herself, she sacrificed me.

Now I was on a mission to find her. I swallowed my pride and stuck my thumb out. The sun was beating down on me, and I was sweating through my black t-shirt. He was approaching slowly as his truck gathered momentum, and I hoped he would see me. I tried to look indifferent as he got close, and I locked eyes with him from my position on the side of the road. Then I watched the truck roar right past me down the road.

I hung my head with disappointment. I thought for sure he was a nice guy and would stop. Maybe he didn't stop because he was a good guy. Either way it seemed I was out of luck. I started walking down the road with nothing but my small backpack, pushing my cheap sunglasses up my nose. About five minutes later, I heard another truck approaching.

When I turned around, it damn sure looked like the one that had just passed me by. This time it slowed down when it got close and pulled over just a little way past me. The driver opened the door, and I climbed in.

"What is a young lady like you doing on the side of the road? I came back because I couldn't bear the thought of you getting in with one of those other guys. Plus, you kind of remind me of a little bit of my own daughter."

"My name is Brooke Bailey. I need to go to California to ask my mother some questions. She can't seem to answer her phone. I can give you a little bit of money in exchange for the ride. Where are you headed?

"My name is Jim Stone. I don't need your money, Brooke. I'm headed to California. Burbank. I can take you as far as you need to go. I'm not into any funny business, so I hope you're not trying to sell me anything."

"All I want is a ride. I promise not to bother you."

"All right then. California, here we come."

He threw my backpack into the rear of the cab where his bed was as I climbed up inside. It was a newer truck, so it was comfortable. I was surprised to see how clean he kept it, and I felt like my instincts were right about him.

"You ready, Brooke Bailey?"

"I'm more than ready. Just get me the hell out of here."

He pulled out onto the road around 10:00 am, and we drove straight through until 10:00 pm, only stopping once for a quick bathroom break. We had driven all the way through Texas, and we were in some small town in Nevada. Jim pulled into a stop near a motel, and we got out.

"I'm gonna get you a room for tonight and I'll sleep in the truck. You look like you could use some good sleep."

I tried to protest, but he wouldn't listen. He headed into the office to speak to the clerk. He came out a few minutes later with a room key for me.

"I'm headed over to Jack's Place for some food and a couple of beers. It looks rough, but my good friend Sally works the bar and the grill. No one will bother you. Do you want to go?"

"Yeah, just let me just freshen up quick."

I went into the small room that wasn't anything special, but the idea of a bed after so long was heavenly. I went to the bathroom quickly and headed back outside. I brought my backpack with me because I didn't like the idea of leaving it anywhere. It was all I had left to my name.

Jack's Place was right across the street from the motel, so it took us all of 30 seconds to get there. The windows were covered in neon beer signs, and the sign was dirty and broken in a couple of places. When we stepped inside there was a bar to the right with about five guys sitting at it. On the left was a line of booths, and straight ahead there was a tiny dance floor and a jukebox.

Jim headed for one of the booths and I followed him. There was a small menu there featuring burgers and sandwiches.

"Order whatever you want. This one's on me. Sally gives me a discount anyway."

"Well, I'll be damned. Is that you Jim Stone? Haven't seen you around here in a while!" a woman with large breasts, bleach blonde hair, and a warm smile approached the table with a pen and pad in her hand.

"Sally, darlin, how are ya? You're looking as beautiful as ever."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Who is this pretty little thing?"

"This is Brooke. I'm giving her a ride to California to see her mother."

"Hello, Ma'am," I smiled up at her and she returned it.

"We barely ever see pretty young ladies in here. I'm usually the only broad around. Why don't I bring you each one of my specials?"

"Sounds good," Jim was talking to Sally, but I suddenly couldn't focus on their conversation. Something, or should I say someone had stopped all rational thought.

Sitting at the end of the bar facing in my direction was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. His grayish-blue eyes were filled with anger and a hint of sadness, and my heart went out to him. I knew it was the same look that I offered the world. His hair was the color of a raven, dark as the night, and it was cut short. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, but the five o'clock shadow just made him that much more beautiful. I guessed he was around 25 years old, but I could have been wrong. All I knew was that he had made my world come to a complete stop.

"Are you okay, Brooke?" Jim's voice snapped me out of it, and I was embarrassed. I felt my cheeks catch fire as I tried to cover up what I had been doing. It was too late. Jim took a look over his shoulder and saw what had me breathless.

"Brooke, that's one man you can look at but should never go near. He has more baggage than you might think. That's Jesse Dalton, and he’s surrounded by ghosts," I snuck another glance his way and found him still nursing the same beer.

"He can't be that bad. We all have a past. He looks sad."

"Now I know I barely know you, but please listen to me. Jesse is not anyone you want to go giving your heart to. I don't think he'd take it anyway. Just forget you ever saw him over there."

Our food came shortly after that. We each got a tuna melt and fries, which tasted delicious. I sat there stealing glances. Jim kept shaking his head.

"Listen, Brooke. Jesse is in a motorcycle club. The AcesWild MC. A few months back, the rest of his club was killed in a standoff with the feds. He was the last man standing; now everyone thinks that he ratted them out. He’s not some nice guy with a broken heart, he’s dangerous, and you need to stay far away."

"Wow. But I still think everyone has their reasons for doing what they do."

"Yeah, well his reasons are not honorable. He wants to be alone and you should let him be."

I couldn't stop staring at him. His leather jacket was worn from plenty of wear and long rides on his motorcycle. There was a flaming patch on one arm, and all I could do was sit there and wonder what he looked like underneath it. He was tugging at my heart, and he had no idea I was even in the room. Maybe there was something I could do to change that.

After dinner and a couple of beers, Jim was ready for some sleep. He told me it was time to go, but I hesitated.