The President's Wife: Prequel (Snakes Henchmen MC)

  The President’s Wife

  Snakes Henchmen MC

  Alivia Grayson

  The President’s Wife

  Snakes Henchmen MC

  Copyright © 2018 Alivia Grayson

  The contents of this novel are pure fiction.

  All names, places and events are in no way associated with any persons dead or alive.

  Places and events are used for fictional purposes only.

  Any similarity's to real life events, places or persons are pure coincidence.

  All rights reserved.

  For my Family.

  My beautiful babies, and the man I love with all that I am. For sister and best friend, who gives me the strength every day to keep fighting. Thank you for always believing in me, your love and support mean everything. Without you, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.

  I would also like to thank my dedicated ARC team, who have read this series with love and enthusiasm, and I will be forever grateful to you all!

  I believe that no matter who you are, no matter your ability or disability, if you tell yourself you can do it, you will.

  Never give up and never stop believing in who you are and the person you could be. Because if you believe in yourself, others will too.

  Alivia Grayson

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Shepard

  2. Lynette

  3. Shepard

  4. Lynette

  5. Shepard

  6. Lynette

  7. Shepard

  8. Lynette

  9. Shepard

  10. Lynette

  11. Shepard

  12. Lynette

  13. Shepard

  14. Lynette

  15. Shepard

  16. Lynette

  17. Shepard

  18. Lynette

  19. Shepard

  20. BlackJack

  21. Lynette

  22. Shepard

  23. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Alivia Grayson

  Introduction

  Welcome to Snakes Henchmen MC, here’s where you’ll meet the Motorcycle God’s in leather and denim that have plagued my mind for over ten years.

  They’re strong and powerful, dangerous beyonds words sometimes, but vigilantes who fight for the rights of the innocent. Nothing is too much for these men. You need help, they’ll give it to you. You cross them, you die. That’s all there is too it.

  Beware of the panty-melting, ovary exploding bikers with big hearts and even bigger… ;)

  Chapter One

  Shepard

  Forget what you see in the movies, murder is nothing like that. Killing comes easy only to those who have lived it for so many years they know nothing else. Killing a man isn’t the end of the story. Hell, no, it’s only the middle.

  There’s the planning. Because you need a plan to make sure everything goes perfectly. Of course, it doesn’t always work out, that’s why you need a backup plan. Always have one of those, especially if no killing is in involved, to begin with. Trust me, eighty percent of the time, killing will be essential, even when not planned.

  On those occasions, most of the planning comes after the kill. That’s okay, every kill can’t be perfect, nor anticipated. For the kills you do expect, make sure you always have a cleanup crew on standby. You do not want to leave anything behind. DNA is a bitch and will land you in jail faster than you can blink. You don’t want to leave anything that will tie you to the scene of the crime. All those bullshit things you see on TV and in the movies won’t save you from doing time.

  All those fancy scenes they show you where the killer corners his prey, where the cops all are, yet no one sees a damn thing when you make your escape, it’s all bullshit. If the fucking cops were around, they’d see you. Unless you were a damn good fucking assassin, or you’ve got the cunts on the payroll.

  I’m no assassin, but I’m a damn good killer.

  Made my first kill when I was fifteen. Yes, that’s what I said, fifteen. Saw some guy corner my Dad outside his clubhouse. Pretty fuckin’ ballsy to corner the Prez of the Snakes Henchmen outside his own fucking clubhouse.

  Motherfucker didn’t see me standing in the shadows. I shouldn’t have been there. My dad had told me a million times that he wouldn’t make me a prospect until I was seventeen. Would never introduce me to killing at that age, that’s for sure. However, I just kept on trying to prove to him that I was ready to be the biker I was born to be.

  Ain’t no kid of fifteen ready to join a motorcycle club. Ain’t no way for them to know what the fuck they’re getting themselves involved with. Hell, there’s no way a kid of seventeen could possibly understand what he’s getting himself into. Not that prospects are used for anything other than clearing up the mess patched members make. Tests of loyalty and any shit job you can think of is passed to each prospect. Whether you can handle it or not is soon proven. Having the Prez beat you to a pulp to see how much you can take before you crack is a tough one. Especially for me because he’s my father. However, those are the rules of the club, and I was prepared for it.

  I had to wonder why my old man was outside the gate with only two of his men for backup. I didn’t think on it. Couldn’t fucking think on it, I was too hyped up watching what was going down. Ain’t no way I was gonna let any motherfucker off my old man. Even if the guy had balls of fuckin’ steel to stand up to three Snakes all alone.

  I don’t know what was going through my fifteen-year-old brain right then, but I crept around the massive oak tree, nothing on my mind other than protecting my old man. I’d protect him like he did my Ma, Robbie, and me.

  Fuckin’ loved my old man, he brought me up right, taught me right from wrong, even keeping to the biker’s code to do so. He'd been a good Prez, and every damn brother respected him. There was no way I was going to let this punk ass motherfucker end my father’s life like he was nothing, he was everything to me.

  The cunt in front of my dad, a Devils Hornet of all things – saw the massive patch on the back of his cut – was somewhat bigger than Apollo, taller, too. One thing my dad taught me was that it didn’t matter how big a guy was, it was all about brains and using them right. There’s no pride in facing a man down if you intend to literally stab him in the back. I had a feeling this motherfucker was going to do just that. Even at fifteen, I knew he was going to wait until my dad turned around before he took his shot.

  No point pullin’ his gun, CueBall and Decker would pop a cap in his fuckin’ head before he got it outta his damn belt.

  I couldn’t hear what the fuck they were saying. Had too much adrenaline pumping through me. My hand clasped over the blade at my ankle. A knife my grandfather gave me a couple of months before. He told me that one day soon, I’d prove myself worthy of the club. That day had come all too soon.

  ‘We ain’t askin’ for much, Apollo.’ Hornet cunt said.

  ‘You ain’t pushin’ drugs in my town, Thorn. Don’t care what deal you’re tryin’ ta cut with us. We don’t make deals with Hornets.’

  Drugs. ‘Bout right for those cunts. My Daddy cleaned up the drugs in this town when he took over the club from his father, Spike. Devils Hornets MC weren’t the first club to come to my father with the idea of trafficking drugs through Bardsville with his help. The local Mafia we in charge of the drugs scene, even they didn’t push them through our town. Apollo had made a deal with Vinnie Vidal years ago to keep this town clean.

  ‘You’re a dead man, Apollo! Any fuckin’ day now!’

  I blocked out CueBall, making my way like some fucking ninja in the night to the fucker threatening
my old man. Might have only been fifteen, but I knew then that no one would threaten those I love and get away with it. I was a tall kid, already 140 pounds of muscle. Pays to work out in the gym with your daddy every day.

  I was as tall as the guy threatening Apollo. Almost 6-foot. Yeah, I was a tall kid. I grabbed the back of motherfuckers head and jerked it back. Didn’t give him a chance to fight me, didn’t give him a chance to say anything, I merely told him, ‘Go to hell, you Hornet Cunt!’ That’s when I slit him from ear to ear.

  Was it like the movies where I stood there with a heaving chest and crazy eyes?

  No. Not even close. The heavy bastard jerked in my arms as he died, blood spurting all over the damn place. My arms ached, my stomach was tight, my legs felt like Jell-O, and I was seconds from throwing the fuck up.

  I’d killed a man.

  It wasn’t until my dad grabbed me that I let go of the dead guy. ‘What the hell did you think you were doin’?’

  ‘He was gonna kill you.’ I ain’t no pussy ass motherfucker, but I won’t lie and tell you that I wasn’t scared, that I didn’t have tears falling from my eyes. I did. I was fifteen for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t think it through before I carried out the kill.

  ‘So you decided to fuckin’ kill him first?’

  ‘I’d kill any and every man who ever threatens you. You’re my dad, but you’re also gonna be my Prez one day. I'd fuckin’ kill, bleed, and die for you.’

  ‘Vince,’ He grabbed me, hugging me like a damn bear.

  ‘Boys got fuckin’ balls, Prez. Every brother in this damn club will one day follow him like a Shepherd herding his sheep.’

  ‘You’re right, CueBall,’ Apollo grabbed my shoulders. ‘He’s gonna be a damn fine Shepherd one of these days, but it ain’t today. Get this shit cleaned up, boys. Make sure you get rid, so no one finds a damn trace of that sonofabitch. You come with me.’

  I had my first real drink that night. Made my daddy proud. Never told my mother, though. She’d have blown her lid, and locked me up in my room until I reached eighteen.

  I got my road name that night, too. Shepherd. Only my poor Momma is dyslexic and couldn’t spell Shepherd. She ended up sewing Shepard on my patch. Didn’t give a shit, the name stuck, and that’s whom I became. The man I have been ever since.

  It didn’t take long before I became a prospect. Took even less for me to be a patched member. I was VP by the time I was twenty-six. Got voted in after old Cal, my dad’s old VP was gunned down and killed.

  A killer I may be, but I don’t kill for the sake of it, I end lives only when there’s no other option. Ain’t nobody can say otherwise.

  I’ve led a good life. One filled with fighting, death, laughs, love for my brothers. Even found myself a woman, who gave me a couple of kids. It might just have been the biggest mistake I made sleeping with that bitch.

  I’ll tell you for why.

  You’d think a man like me would be able to hold onto his woman and child, wouldn’t you? Big, bad biker, Vice President of the Snakes Henchmen, one of the largest charters there is. The Mother Charter.

  My old lady was a little out there sometimes, we weren’t in love, but one night with Celia led to Tate. The second she told me she was pregnant, I made her mine. I didn’t give her any choice in the matter. The Snakes don’t knock women up and let them walk away with our kids.

  We had an all right couple years. I stayed faithful to a woman who couldn’t stand me. I couldn’t bear even looking at her half the time, but she was the mother of my kid, and I’d made a commitment, one I wouldn't back out of. Who cared if I’d set myself up for a lifetime of misery with a woman I couldn’t love.

  I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t told her I loved her. I needed to keep her sweet somehow. I couldn’t risk Celia taking off with my boy because she was unhappy. She told me she loved me a few times, but I knew she was just echoing the words I’d spoken first. I doubt she thought I loved her when I said the words. In effect, we were living a lie from the start.

  I buried my heart and soul in my club, and into loving my son. I may not have cared much for his mother, but my boy was everything to me, and he loved his daddy just as much.

  Celia couldn’t stand it, hated that Tate would rather be with me than her. I know that must’ve hurt being his mother, but what the hell was I supposed to do about it? She was hardly mother material anyway.

  Tate was four when Celia told me, she was pregnant again. I was shocked, at first. I thought she might have cheated on me somewhere along the way. It turns out she was faithful if nothing else.

  Nova Louise Jackson was born on the 22 of September, Tate’s fifth birthday. She was tiny but beautiful, and Tate adored her. Celia took to motherhood a second time around like she did the first time. Awfully. She tried to be a good mother, but she was always more important than her children. It seemed to me that she’d rather party than spend time with her children.

  That's why it made it so hard to understand why Celia did what she did that day. The day she stole my little girl. Took her and left my son behind in a world of hurt and insecurities. We had seven years together, Nova, Tate, and me, seven wonderful years that will never be forgotten.

  Almost two years later, and I still wonder if Nova misses me.

  Does she call for me in the night like she used to?

  Does she wonder where I am?

  Is Celia taking care of her?

  I’ve searched everywhere, had every kind of private investigator out looking for them, but it seems they’ve vanished off the face of the earth. I got told that if Celia had gone underground, the chances of finding her would be slim to none.

  I can’t give up searching, and I never will, but my father is right, I’ve put everything I have into searching for Nova. Everything. I still have a son here who needs me. He lost his mother and sister, and I haven't been there for him as much as I should have. Poor kid probably thinks I blame him. That could never be. He was just twelve years old when Celia took Nova, what the hell could he have done to stop her? Even my momma couldn't prevent that bitch from walking away with my little girl.

  I still lie in bed at night with my baby girls teddy bear and hold it to my chest, breathe in the scent of my daughter, and pray to the almighty to bring her home safe to me.

  There were a couple of nights after it first happened where my boy would walk into my room in tears. It killed me. Tate was always a robust, and spirited kid. He always wanted to be a biker like his daddy and grandfather. However, those few nights he was nothing but a little boy missing his sister, and wondering why his momma left him.

  ‘Dad?’ He said one night after creeping into my room. I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t sleep. ‘Can I... I mean,’

  ‘Come here,’ I patted the bed. I knew what he wanted, his dad. He climbed into the bed and curled into me. ‘Bad dream, Bud?’ I asked him after I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, and he’d wrapped his tight around my waist.

  He shook his head. ‘Dad? I know Celia took Nova,’ He’d refused to call her Mom after she left. Couldn’t say as I blamed him, she was no mother to him. ‘But I’m still here. I love you, Daddy.’ It brought tears to my eyes as he hugged me. It made me realize how much my son was hurting, how I needed to get the fuck out of my head and be his father.

  And I did just that.

  “Can I get you something, handsome?” Lynette’s soft voice brings me outta my head and back to the here and now.

  Lynette is a damn good friend of mine, she lives next door to Tate and me with her little girl, Willow. Beautiful little girl with big hazel eyes and long brown hair. Eleven years old and quite small for her age. Tate seems to have taken her under his wing. I wouldn’t say he’s replaced Nova with Willow, but he has that brother-sister bond with the girl.

  Lynette is beautiful in a classic kind of way. Her big green eyes are the color of grass. Such a strange shade of green. Her dark hair is so fuckin’ shiny it makes me wonder what the hell she washes it in.

&n
bsp; She’s a bartender here at the clubhouse. I gave her the job because she needed extra money for Willow, her job at the diner in town didn’t pay enough, especially as her hours were cut short. Lynette is a proud woman and wouldn’t let me give her the money she needed. I had to respect her for that.

  I wouldn’t let her whore herself out to any of these guys, she’s better than that, not that she asked to work as a whore here, she’s got more class than that. It’s not like they ain’t tried a few times to get in her panties. Lynette ain’t claimed, and wouldn’t say yes to any of these fuckers if they asked. She’s young, free, and single. So in all fairness, she's free game to the brothers.

  I made damn sure they all knew what would happen to any motherfucker who touches her. Don’t give a fuck what they say or think; she’s off limits. Lynette is a good girl, she shouldn’t be working here like this. However, I’d much rather her work here at the clubhouse where I can keep an eye on her so I can keep her safe than she works somewhere else. Of course, Lynette would make a lot more money if she stripped in the titty bar we own across town, but I’m liable to kill any man that so much as looks at her, let alone touches her.

  At least she has enough respect for me to listen to what I have to say. I don’t want Lynette stripping, and so, she backed out of the interview. I only found out she’d gotten an interview when CueBall told me she’d asked about a job. Decker would have given it to her, too. I told her I wouldn’t allow it, that’s when she told me about needing money for Willow. Lynette would do anything for her kid, anything. Even if that meant stripping her clothes for old perverts. I hated seeing her upset, and I can’t deny I was annoyed that she hadn’t come to me. Lynette knew I would have given her whatever she needed. Shit, I’d spent long enough making sure she was okay. She didn’t want my money though, she wanted to provide for her daughter. I admired her for that, that’s why I offered her this job. Anything is better than taking her clothes off, even serving drinks to a bunch of foulmouthed bikers.