Betrayed

Betrayed

A Wicked Warriors Motorcycle Club Mystery Romance

by

Camilla Isles

Copyright 2016 Camilla Isles

All rights reserved.

All characters engaging in sexual activities are 18 years of age or older.

Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

This book is for mature audiences only.

Prologue

The young woman’s glassy eyes seemed to stare vacantly at the ceiling of the car’s trunk lid. No longer were they filled with merriment or joy or the hopeful anticipation of love, motherhood, and a career in the theater. Her eyelids hung down limply, partially covering the lifeless eyes that no longer blinked or registered. Her name was Amy. She had been a vibrant 28-year-old woman until someone decided it was time for her life to end.

She was the sister of the President of the Wicked Warriors, a motorcycle club that sounded more dangerous than it actually was. Amy’s friend was getting married in a month, and she was helping with the planning and all the other small details that go into a wedding and drive a bride nuts. The bride, Lily, was marrying the Vice President of the WWMC, a man Amy had known for most of her life.

The perpetrator attempted to burn the vehicle with Amy’s body in it, but failed miserably. Only smoke instead of flames erupted from the car’s interior. Giving up in disgust, the killer left to bring back a can of gasoline for burning the car to a nice crispy finish. But a hunter, who smelled the odd odor of smoldering upholstery and paint, would find the vehicle first and call the police before the murderous maniac could finish the job.

And so it began. The selfish and repugnant needs of one would start an avalanche of despair in a club struggling to maintain a moral code. Amidst the storm were two people who came together to fight against the tirade of deception that could consume the club.

Chapter One

The day he met Ginger was both the best and worst day of his life. Justin Taylor was the President of the Wicked Warriors and the owner-operator of the auto body shop they ran. He would be starting a paint job on a 2012 Dodge Dart when Ginger’s phone call came in later that morning.

It started out just like any other day.

*****

Big Red got up with some effort from his chair in the reception area and slowly wheeled his oxygen tank on a little red two-wheeler behind him. He handed a folder of Profit and Loss statements back to Lily at the desk.

“I’m going to run down to Betty’s Diner before she stops serving biscuits and gravy,” he said with a little cough, taking his winter jacket from the hook by the front door. “It’s almost 11:00.” The aging patriarch and one of the founders of the Warriors a generation ago looked as battered and scarred by the passing years as his open black leather vest and red bandana. If it weren’t for the ever-present oxygen tubes in his nostrils, he’d looked more like a burly pirate than the CEO of a thriving business.

“Oh, you know she’ll save some for you, Red,” Lily hollered out pleasantly from behind the desk. “You’re her number one customer.”

“And I’m going to drive you there.” Connor swooped in the front door, arriving later than usual today, and leaned over the front desk to kiss his fiancé. “I’ll be right back, Lily.” Connor was quite a bit shorter and scrawnier than Justin and some of the others, but he had the same rugged and confident air about him. His hair was a dark dirty blonde, and it matched the sparse moustache and chin whiskers on his leathery but boyish face.

“Love you, babe. You taste like you’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes already. You shouldn’t smoke so much, especially when you’re running a fever. Are you feeling better now, Connor?”

“Yep! Those three extra hours of sleep seemed to do the trick.”

Then she stood and hollered as they walked out the door, a gust of blustery winter wind sneaking in behind them. “And don’t stay to eat – you’re taking me out for a late lunch when everyone else gets back.” She hoped he heard her.

Justin was Big Red’s son and the alpha dog of the group. He looked up from the vintage Dodge Charger he was taping in preparation for a retro candy-apple red paint job. His mind wandered as his dad and Connor, who had practically lived at his house as a brother when they were kids, slammed the door to the company pickup truck out front.

The WW Motorcycle Club ran the auto body garage out on Route 68 outside of Trinity. Part of the building housed an office, clubhouse, and the “church,” which is what they called their meeting room for the club.

The Wicked Warriors had been involved in illegal activities back in the 80s and 90s, but when Justin’s father took over as president he steered the club away from criminal mischief. It wasn’t difficult to do, as a dozen deaths from their drug dealing days left only a skeleton crew of living members and a new desire to leave the stench of death, prison, and hell-raising behind them.

Justin’s father, Big Red, raised two children on his own after their alcoholic mother took off when Amy was only two and Justin four. Big Red didn’t want his children growing up in an atmosphere of dope and crime. They’d lost one parent, and they didn’t need to lose another one to prison. So he used his modest savings from years as a mechanic to open the auto repair shop and give jobs to his club members.

Eventually, the club had enough money to build a larger building adjacent to the original, installing new equipment and a first-class ventilation system. The original building became their clubhouse, complete with a bar. It gave the members a place to bring their families and hang out with good friends. Every day was a celebration of life for the extended family of the Wicked Warriors.

Big Red wanted a newer and safer environment for his men, and the new building worked out well…but it wasn’t in time to prevent cancer from developing in Big Red’s lungs, caused by the paint fumes and other toxic chemicals.

But cancer wasn’t going to beat him. Big Red continued working despite the fatigue from his chemo treatments, until he collapsed one day in the spraying room. That was the day Justin told him it was time to rest, that he couldn’t beat this thing if he continued to work. It was difficult for Big Red to take orders from his son, but he was coming to grips with the situation and realized that at some point he had to hand the reins over, though he still comes in for a few hours every day to lend his guidance and accumulated business savvy.

That was the same day Big Red gave the gavel of power to his son. The club was unanimous in their vote for Justin to become the new President, although it was a bittersweet moment for them, realizing that Red’s days were numbered.

Justin made his best friend, Connor, Vice President of the Warriors. They had grown up together, and Connor’s father had also been a part of the club until he was murdered back during the club’s drug days. Connor was only four at the time. After that, Connor became an almost permanent fixture at Justin’s house, which was fine with Big Red.

The house was filled with children’s laughter, with Connor spending many a night at the Taylor’s home while his mother worked nights. So the three – Justin, Amy, and Connor – grew up together along with their extended family.

Big Red continued to come to the club each day with his portable oxygen tank. Once in a while he would look in at the goings on in the body shop, but Justin didn’t want him exposed to the fumes, so he usually kept his distance, preferring to let him guide the success of the shop as the Chief Executive Officer.

Amy, his sister, worked as a secretary for the Rosewood Company, an automotive plant in the town of Trinity. She’d worked there from the time she was fresh out of high school, now going on 10 years, though she still had fading dreams of a career in acting and dancing if she could ever make her way out of this town. She had one son, 12-year-old Aaron, who was born when she was only 16. The father was never in the picture, and Amy would never say who he was. Maybe she didn’t want him around, or maybe she didn’t want the responsibilities of parenthood to hold him back they way it had tied her to a small town life forever.

Aaron looked like a younger version of his Uncle Justin, with a shock of brown hair and big green eyes. He didn’t have his uncle’s bulk and was smaller than the other kids his age, but he was smart and had a lot of the other Taylor genes. Justin had set up a college fund for him when he was 3 years old.

Lily, Connor’s fiancée, worked answering the phone and keeping the books for Big Red’s Auto Shop. She flung her long blond hair over her right shoulder as she held the phone out for Justin. Lily was a gorgeous girl with bright blue eyes and porcelain skin. Her sweet demeanor was a welcome sight and a stark contrast to the rough and tumble guys who inhabited the auto shop. But they kept on their best behavior around Lily; Connor made sure of that.

“Justin, you’ve got a call,” Lily said. “It’s the Health Department.”

Shit,
Justin thought.
Just what I need.

“Hello,” he said into the phone in his best business voice.

“Mr. Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“This is Ginger Lawrence from the Health Department, and I’ll be coming out in an hour to test your ventilation system. I just wanted to make sure you’re open and will be there today.”

“Yes, I’ll be here,” Justin said with a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.”

Justin hung up the phone and gave it back to Lily.

“Everybody, stop what you’re doing. We need to do a clean up before the Health Inspector gets here.”

Everyone groaned. Justin thought his day couldn’t get any worse than a health inspection, but unfortunately he was wrong.

Chapter Two

A health inspector wasn’t what Ginger Lawrence had aspired to be, but it paid well and she wasn’t one to complain too much. She had wanted a career as a nurse, but found she didn’t have the heart to watch people suffer. She loved the helping part, but after being an aid at a nursing home and watching countless elderly patients waste away from debilitating life-ending illnesses and depression, she decided nursing wasn’t for her.

She beat herself up over that decision, feeling she was too weak, but a friend reminded her that not everyone is cut out for certain careers and it was nothing to be ashamed of. So she decided to help protect people’s health in another way, by preventing sickness as much as possible through health inspections. This meant she had to test restaurant kitchens, looking for possible food contamination, mice feces, and roach infestations. Not the glamorous career she’d envisioned when she was younger, but it paid the bills.

She also tested the air quality in certain industrial plants and in auto body shops where paint fumes were prevalent. Today she headed to Big Red’s Auto Body Shop, a first for her. She’d never been there as Ricky, a co-worker, normally handled the industrial inspections in this area. She didn’t really trust Ricky. Word was he could be bought off for a price, allowing certain shops and restaurants to remain open if they paid him under the table. Ginger wondered if Big Red’s shop was the same way. 

When Ginger drove up to the shop in her silver Toyota Camry she noticed all the Harley’s parked outside. Now she remembered. This was the home of the Wicked Warriors Motorcycle Club. She’d heard the stories growing up, how the club dealt drugs and sold illegal firearms back in the day, with numerous murders going unsolved. But in more recent times the club had managed to turn its evil ways around. There was no end to the rumors, though, that still swirled through the town streets, and once you have a certain reputation, it’s difficult to shed all the ill-will and bad blood.

Ginger looked over at the original building, which now held the club’s headquarters. There was a huge sign over the door that read
Wicked Warriors Motorcycle Club
in bright orange letters. A skull and crossbones logo was etched into the sign below their name.
Not the best way to run from an illegal past
, Ginger thought.

She walked closer to the old building before going into the much newer body shop she had come to inspect. There was some kind of writing on the door that she wanted to get a closer look at. There were a few bikes outside and some rugged laughter inside. Below the skull and crossbones on the main sign it said
Sovereign Domain of the Wicked Warriors.
And on the door in cursive letters she read:

Beyond this portal

the laws of God and men

do not exist. Only the

Code of the Warriors

reigns supreme.

Surrender your souls to us,

All ye who enter here.

Scary dudes…or immature boys playing pirate,
she thought
. Not sure which.

She turned and headed back to the new and professional looking auto shop, pulling her coat’s hood over her black hair. The cold winter days were about to do her in. Ginger hated the winters in the North, and decided that one day she’d move south to sunny Florida and live in a home with an orange tree in the backyard.

Ginger was raised an only child, but the stereotype of a spoiled brat didn’t fit her at all. Her parents were responsible and ensured that she understood the value of a dollar and how to be independent. They wanted to bestow these traits onto their daughter in case anything ever happened to them, which was a good thing since they both died in a fiery head-on collision when she was 22. The thought of it still haunted her.

Five years later, Ginger had a good job, a condo, and a five-year-old vehicle that she owned free and clear. She knew her parents would be proud of her level-headedness.

But Ginger was lonely and felt that her life was lacking an important ingredient, like excitement and thrills. She dated many men, and her beautiful dark eyes and hair made her a catch, but every man her friends set her up with was either too boring or only interested in one thing. She longed for the thrill of a man who wasn’t part of the normal day-to-day boredom, predictability, and banality that her life had fallen into. Ginger was the Third Little Pig who had built a stable life on a solid foundation of bricks and mortar, and she wasn’t sure she had what it took to venture into parts unknown. Whether she liked it or not, she was about to find out.

*****

Ginger walked through the front door of Big Red’s and into a bright reception area where Lily sat behind the desk.

“Hi, I’m Ginger Lawrence from the Health Department.”

“Hello…wait right here, Ms. Lawrence. I’ll get the owner.”

Ginger looked around the front office, which had a professional air about it. The receptionist had a nice glass-topped desk, and the surrounding waiting area was large with nice comfy chairs and a large-screen TV as well as plenty of vending machines for snacks and drinks. She was a little surprised, knowing the reputation of the owners.

Lily pushed the door to the body shop open. “Justin!”

A big man in a white T-shirt and tattooed arms turned towards her. He took a heavy chrome bumper for an old pickup truck off his shoulder and set it gently on the floor with one hand. Lily wiped a smudge of grease from his face with her thumb as he walked through the doorway.

Time stopped for Ginger as she watched him enter the room. He drove his fingers through his thick brown hair, and Ginger could see the ripples of his abs through his white T-shirt. Normally she wasn’t left breathless by good-looking men, but this guy had an animalistic aura about him that tugged at her insides and ignited a flame Ginger had never felt before. His jaw was strong, his eyes were deep but sparkled too much to be brooding, and his arms bulged nicely from real work and not from hours at the gym. He looked like Tarzan walking out of the jungle, part man and part civilized beast. She felt slightly nervous, an odd feeling for her. But with her mundane existence, she rather welcomed the sensation all the same.

The man reached out his hand to shake hers.

“Hi, my name is Justin Taylor.” His voice was full and rich, dripping with testosterone. “My father owns the place. Is Ricky sick? He usually does the inspection.” Justin let go of her hand very slowly, but Ginger didn’t mind, even though his grip was too firm and made her feel very fragile.

“Hello, I’m Ginger Lawrence, and yes, Ricky is out sick. He has pneumonia and has been in the hospital for a few days, so I’m covering his assignments.”

“Oh…that’s too bad about Ricky. Lily, send a get-well balloon and a six-pack to the hospital for us.” He looked at Ginger. “Jefferson Memorial?”

She nodded. “But I’m not sure you can get a six-pack in there, Mr. Taylor.”

Justin smiled and gave Ginger a wink. “We have our ways.”

“What’s his last name?” Lily asked.

Ginger answered, “Wilkes.”

Justin was intrigued the moment he saw the dark haired beauty. Most women he came in contact with were also beautiful, but with a hard edge – usually muscular, tattooed, trash-talking, hard-drinking, and easy.

That was the only type of women he attracted, it seemed, and while they were good for a lay, he didn’t want to settle for that. He didn’t want a woman who would turn out like the alcoholic, abusive woman who abandoned him at a very early age. Justin could have settled down with any one of a half-dozen girls he grew up with. They all wanted the leader of the club, and it didn’t hurt that he had the good looks and muscles to complete the package.

But Justin had an eye for the more feminine and educated girls that wore heels and business skirts and worked in offices downtown. A sweet girl with a good head on her shoulders is what he pined for, but with his tattoos and biker reputation, most of them ran in the other direction before he could get to know them.

“Let me show you around the shop.”

Lily had taken her place back behind the desk and smiled at Ginger as she walked by, then nodded to Justin, as if to say, “You better get her number.” Justin was way ahead of her.

Ginger took the report form and clipboard out of her satchel. She took her job seriously and wasn’t about to be swayed by the rugged handsomeness of the man before her, although, she admitted to herself, it was difficult not to stare at him. She wondered if he knew that her ravenous eyes were caressing his body, and when she looked away she couldn’t help but fantasize about being swept up like a rag doll by one of his strong, manly arms.

Justin’s mind was wrapped up in the living doll beside him too. It wasn’t often he was left spellbound by a woman’s beauty. Her looks had him salivating, but it wasn’t just what was up her skirt that interested him. Her friendly yet professional manner, the intelligence that shone through her bright eyes, and the strength that was so obvious behind her tender frame all gave him a weak feeling in the pit of his stomach that was unfamiliar too him. Of course, her skirt allowed Justin to drink in her long legs, which didn’t hurt in the least. He tried not to stare at her tiny ass in the tight skirt, but he stole a glance every chance he could get.

He could see the rest of the guys snickering in the corner.
Bunch of lame asses,
he thought. He loved them, but, damn, he didn’t want them to mess it up for him.

“I can answer any questions you might have,” Justin said as he showed Ginger around the auto body shop.

“Oh, I’ve done auto shops before, but thanks,” Ginger answered. She could have kicked herself as she turned away from his disappointed face. She was so used to being independent and businesslike that she didn’t recognize the moments she should invite someone into her space, especially the gorgeous Justin. She would be inviting him into more than that before too long.

Ginger turned around just as Justin was ready to walk back into the front office.

“Wait, why don’t you show me the shop’s ventilation system.”

Justin smiled and said, “Right this way.”

Ginger made her inspection of the ventilation system and took a reading of the oxygen levels in the painting room. Everything seemed to be in order. She was slightly surprised, not expecting state of the art equipment, but the owners did a good job of keeping the environment healthy for the workers.

When Ginger finished, she let Justin know everything was in working order.

“You’ll be getting a Class-A rating, Mr. Taylor. Your equipment complies with all of my requirements…”
And so does you body,
she thought. “…and it’s very well-maintained too.”

“Well, thank you, ma’am…uh, Mrs. Lawrence.”

Screw the “Ms.” thing at a time like this,
she thought. “It’s Miss Lawrence, but please call me Ginger. You run a clean shop here, Mr. Taylor.”

“Call me Justin.”

She made some notations on her report and then, with her white teeth gleaming behind her full red lips, she said, “Well, Justin, I’d rather eat in your shop than in a lot of the restaurants I’ve inspected.”

They both did a polite laugh, but his little fishing expedition had gotten him the information he was looking for – plus a shoehorn into a lunch date. “So…Ginger, you’re pretty far from your office back in town, and it
is
lunch time. Why don’t you let me take you to get a bite? Most of the diners around here are inspected by Ricky, so you might get food poisoning if I’m not there to guide you.”

Justin gave her a boyish grin, but Ginger’s jaw dropped from the scandalous accusation.

“Oh – no, Ginger. I’m just kidding around. Ricky’s a great guy, as far as I know. But there are a lot of just plain bad restaurants around here.”

That seemed to make her feel a little better. Ginger looked at her watch and was surprised it was already noon. “I didn’t realize it was time for lunch already. Time flies
…
”
…when you’re working around a handsome hunk.
“I am a little hungry, so sure, I’d love to get lunch,” Ginger said as she put her clipboard back into her work satchel.

“How about I drive us to the café on the edge of town?”

“Not on your Harley, I hope.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you in this weather. We’ll take the SUV.”

The boys gave Justin a smartass salute as he looked for the keys on the rack. “It’s already running and warm for you,” Merlin said with a wink.

“Take care of Dad when he gets back.”

“We always do,” Trick, one of the club members, answered. “Hey, is Connor coming back today? He’s been out all morning.”

“Ask Lily; she should know,” Justin answered as he put on his coat and escorted Ginger to his black SUV.”

“He better be!” Lily said sternly.

*****

They made small talk on the way. Justin started.

“So, are you from around here?”