By: Bella Jewel

Beau lifts his head, revealing those incredible grey eyes. They’re lighter grey, like a storm cloud that has given off all its rain and is fading into the blue sky. His black hair drops over his forehead and his expression is almost murderous as he glares at me. They don’t like being here; it’s not abnormal.

“My name is Ash,” I begin, “I just came to check in on you. I’m a guard here.”

His glare doesn’t waver; in fact, it’s a little intimidating. He’s lethal; it seeps off him.

“Have you had any troubles overnight?”

He doesn’t answer; he just keeps his killer expression trained on me.


He doesn’t move. It’s unnerving.

“You’re the vice president of the Jokers’ Wrath MC. That must be a different kind of lifestyle?”

His eyes narrow, but he still says nothing. Interesting. It clearly gets a reaction out of him, even if he refuses to speak.

“I know you have no family. I suppose that’s what they are? Would I be correct?”

His eyes flash and then harden. His jaw tics and it’s clear family is a touchy subject. Just to test my theory, I ask a difficult question. I wouldn’t usually do this, but Tristan has instructed that I get as much as I can out of him, so I go ahead.

“I was informed you lost your sister at a young age. Is that why you did what you did?

Like a flip is switched, he thrashes in his chains, his eyes wild and frantic.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath.

He jerks, his large body arching upwards in what is clearly anguish. His entire frame is straining, his wrists jerking on the chains, his face going a dark shade of red with emotion.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I say, my voice tough, even though I feel horrible. “Calm down, Beau.”

His fists are clenched so tightly they’re white; his arms are bulging, ropes of muscle pulsing beneath his skin. He thrashes harder, panting. I turn to the Jeremy, who is already radioing it in. Only minutes later more guards arrive and we all step in. Blood is running heavily down Beau’s wrists. If we don’t stop him, it will get worse.

I take one of his arms, and the muscles flex beneath my fingers as I hold him firmly. Three other guards take different parts of his body. He growls and snaps, then he barks, “Fuck off, you cunts.”

Well, then. It would appear Beau can talk.

“You don’t settle down, you’ll end up in bigger trouble than it’s worth,” Luke growls at him.

I didn’t even see Luke come in.

Beau turns his eyes to me and bares his teeth. I glare at him, not showing any kind of emotion. He swings his body to the side, sending me flying backwards onto my ass. He did it on purpose, I know he did, and that makes me angry. It’s not the first time this has happened; I’m always being knocked over. Anger swells in my chest all the same, because I still hate it. I might have upset him, but he doesn’t need to push me around.

I get to my feet and walk forward, pressing my fingers down onto his shoulder and pinching a nerve there—I learned this in training. He roars in pain and lurches forward, landing on the floor. It hurts, I know it hurts, but it’s an easy and effective way to take a prisoner down without the need for weapons.

I lean down, rocking on my heels as he stares up at me with rage in his features. In a low, growling tone, I say, “Don’t touch me again.”

Then I get up and leave.

They can deal with Beau Dawson.


“You look exhausted,” Claire says when I drag my backside into the house that night.

I throw my purse down and shrug my jacket off. “Mentally exhausted, perhaps.”

She pours a glass of the red wine she’s drinking, and brings it over to me as I drop down onto the couch. “Here you are.”

“Ohh, you’re a champ.”

She smiles and flops down beside me on the couch.

“Can I ask you something?”

I sip the wine, closing my eyes and groaning with delight. “Sure,” I finally manage.

“I overheard Leo talking this afternoon.”

My eyes pop open and I turn to her. “And . . .”

“And I heard that . . . Queen of Whoretown is pregnant.”

I snort at her choice of words. “I don’t know a great deal about it, but I did warn him last night that he needs to be careful.”

“What does he see in a girl like her?” She pouts prettily.

“She’s easy.” I shrug. “Leo is complicated and she doesn’t question him, she just gives him what he wants.”

“Complicated is certainly what Leo is.”

I nod, pursing my lips. “Does it bother you?”

She shakes her head quickly, too quickly, if you ask me. “No, of course not.” She waves her hand and snorts. “He can do whatever he wants.

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