Ace (The Rebel’s MC #7)

Prologue

Ace – Twenty-Nine Years Old

I slowly suck on my lip ring as I flip through paperwork for the potential prospects—men required to do grunt work a whole year before possibly earning a patch and becoming a brother.

I study their details, looking for lies before sending the files to Dirty for a hard check, not wanting to waste his time. I come to a pause, tilting my head at the one fucker whose file keeps drawing my attention.

“Twenty-six, grew up in New York, orphan, five degrees, and happily married with two kids… hmm, I call bullshit,” I mumble as I eye the details he’s written for his application.

The way he was fucking women at the last club party didn’t scream a married family man like he has claimed.

Rebels MC is my life, a brotherhood that has opened their arms for all of us club brats—a privilege I’ve never taken for granted.

I learned everything from my brothers, whom I see as uncles, from my father, and alongside my big brother, Dirty, we’ve followed in our fathers’ footsteps.

Joining the club, becoming brothers along with childhood friends, and, even better, officer brothers, we have the majority say over the club and its earnings.

We have earned enough respect to be granted officer roles by the whole brotherhood.

Dirty owns half of Rebel’s Motors and became treasurer because the fucker is that good with numbers and computers.

I took over as club secretary, while owning half of Rebel’s Grub, the diner, and invested all my inheritance and years of savings from grunt work with the brothers in the place.

The officer brothers went in with me, helping build the place up and I fucking love it—owning that responsibility and having their support.

Over the years, I learned a lot from the older generation, our family, along with our affiliated clubs, and between our club, the Rebels MC, The Huntsman, the Devil’s, and The Untamed Hell Fire’s MCs, we’ve had shit loads of traitors between us from when we were growing up to now that we are adults.

Fuckers from prospects to girlfriends—and fuck, even old ladies—have tried to get information on our warehouses and our runs that we transport guns, ammo, money, and, as of the last few years, cocaine.

The cocaine came after we got involved with the Cartel to stop wars between us, that decision bringing more money for all of us, and this fucker has put me on edge.

As I said, I’ve learned a lot over the years.

My job as club secretary is one I’ve worked my ass off for.

I track our businesses and handle paperwork for fun runs, where we raise money for agreed-upon charities, from hospitals to troubled youths.

I also document all personal donations, including my nephew’s school.

I vet all employees, failed with Cheryl obviously, she blindsided us all but from club businesses to the club whores and prospects.

It is my job to ensure they aren’t after club information and basically aren’t psychos and this fucker is showing red flags, ones I missed with Cam.

I’ll always feel guilty about allowing him through, especially after Anchor, our Road Captain and my close friend, nearly lost his old lady because of him.

Granted, I know Dirty also did a background check, but it isn’t the point, I still feel like I failed, especially after I vetted Cheryl and she tried to trap my brother.

Cam, the fucker couldn’t last a year without breaking the rule about fucking the club whores. As a prospect, you need restraint and loyalty. Yes, the club whores cook and clean, but most willingly fuck, hoping for a brother’s property patch, to become an old lady.

I sigh. Cam, after being demanded by my Pres’s old lady Brit - the resident animal thief who keeps bringing animals home from Wincher Vets where she works - to stay put with Anchor's old lady Summer, decided to ignore her command, and the idiot dropped the ball big fucking time and lost his life for it and Summer, fuck, that poor sweet fucking woman.

I suck my lip ring into my mouth, focusing on the crisp print and scribbled notes on the paper before me.

We had gotten Summer back to the clubhouse after she was sedated because she put up a fight, not realizing it was Anchor trying to remove her from the cage she was locked in when she was taken.

Brit had ordered Cam to watch Summer, knowing she needed supervision.

Instead, he was distracted by two ex-club whores who didn’t want Summer around.

They didn’t want another officer’s patched brother taken.

They gave him a blow job and planned to scare Summer off but while they argued, Summer managed to hang herself before discovering she was pregnant with her rapist’s baby.

She’s lucky to be alive while Cam is dead, and the two club whores got kicked out.

I tilt my head at the paperwork and sigh, the uneasy feeling in my gut not fading as I debate whether to trust my instincts.

This fucker will turn into a traitor, I just fucking know it. Despite the friendship he seems to have with some old ladies, I’m not fucking risking our club and knowing our luck, he’s gotten close to them on purpose.

Shaking my head, I press the denied stamp onto his file, set the file on my desk, and groan as I lean back, stretching my neck, my body aching like shit.

I’ve been going through paperwork for fucking hours, and I’m beat.

Despite the laughter from the common room, I shut my eyes.

I can’t be bothered to join everyone and their happy couples.

I know the shit my friends had to go through to get to where they are now which gives me hives and I know as soon as I walk into that room, the women will get on my back about settling down. E

I look at the picture of my parents, me, and my brother on my desk and I smile slightly.

Growing up watching my father dote on my mother, watching him love her, fuck, despite the shit the brothers have gone through, deep down I think I want that kind of love one day. I just don’t know if I can handle all the jealous shit from women I’ve fucked over the years who still pop up.

My phone pings, drawing my attention, and I grab it, open the chat with all the officer brothers, and snort.

Tank:

Pussy is at the gates…

I type out a quick reply to Tank, and hit send.

Me:

She’s getting desperate, she’s been at the diner most of the week causing shit with Harriet and AJ.

And that isn’t a lie. I don’t know what she expects I’ll do but getting her back in the club is never going to happen after the shit she wanted to do to Summer.

My phone goes off again, and I grin widely.

Dirty:

Maybe she misses your cock, little brother.

“Fucker,” I chuckle as I read the message and send a reply.

Me:

Actually, I never fucked her, fuck you very much.

I press send with a chuckle, a grin stretching across my face as I glance at the screen, but my grin fades sharply when a voice behind my door demands, “What do you mean you told Ashley about my affair? What the hell, Scott?” and I freeze in shock.

What the fuck?

Affair?

My phone pings, but I ignore it and slowly stand and walk over to my office door as quietly as I can, my heart fucking pounding.

Mama had an affair?

“Honey,” Dad sighs, “she was struggling with what Trigger had done. She needed some help, some guidance, and I was that person for her. You know how much that girl loves that man, fuck, she didn’t even bat an eye when her parents disowned her because she chose him!”

“I don’t care!” Mama growls, “What if it gets back to our kids, huh, Scott? What if Luca finds out that there was a chance you may not have been his father?! It would have destroyed him!”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have opened your fucking legs for Judge Reynold's brother while he was prospecting for the fucking club. You begged him to all because you wanted your lover closer and caused shit for the club. And for what? Because I was working my ass off to keep up with your spending habits!” Dad snaps back before a slap echoes, and I blink and blink again.

Judge Reynolds, the man who is always trying to do shit against the club, always trying to have our club raided or ensure brothers get locked up over the tiniest of things.

The same man who tried having Judge Jones, a man we see as family, who didn’t want to join the club, disbarred every chance he gets.

She…

Fuck.

“Scott...” Mama chokes as my phone pings again. I ignore it as bile rises in my throat.

“No,” he sneers, “you are the one who fucked up, you are the reason why I had to test my own fucking child to ensure he was mine. You were the one who threatened to abort my fucking son if I left you before the test even came back stating he was mine, and yet you assault me because I was trying to help two kids that had lost their way?” he scoffs, “I have tried my fucking hardest to get over the shit, over the fucking heartbreak you have caused and as soon as you don’t like some home truths, you smack me.

Sleep in the fucking guest room tonight! ”

“Scott,” Mama sobs, and I don’t think, I grab the door and pull it open so hard it slams against the wall, and both mama and dad look my way in shock.

Mama sucks in a breath at my cold eyes, which are my father's eyes, just like my brother. Dad clears his throat seeing I’m trembling and not in control of my anger.

“Son,” he begins, but I cut him off and demand coldly, “You cheated on Dad?” Mama flinches, “A man who always puts you and your wants first?”

“It-it was before you were born,” she whispers, and I curl my lip at the woman I thought looked at dad like he hung the moon.

“How long?” I demand, “How long did you fuck around on my father right under his nose?”

Her bottom lip wobbles, and Dad answers, “For six months, the prospect is dead, son, and you are mine. The DNA test proved it, you shouldn’t have heard us, I’m sorry.”