Zach hells handlers mc b.., p.1
Zach (Hell's Handlers MC Book 1), page 1
Contents
Copyright
Title Page
Note
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Author Note Amazon
Maverick Preview
About the Author
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Copyright © 2018 Lilly Atlas
All rights reserved.
Lilly Atlas Books LLC
ZACH
Hell’s Handlers MC Book 1
Lilly Atlas
Thank you so much for reading Zach. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
Other books by Lilly Atlas
No Prisoners MC Sereis
Hook: A No Prisoners Novella
Striker
Jester
Acer
Lucky
Snake
Trident Ink
Escapades
Hell’s Handlers MC
Zach
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Toni’s no stranger to making mistakes. She has experienced firsthand how walking down the wrong path can send life spiraling out of control. Fortunately, she had someone to drag her from the gutter and help set her on the right track. As penance for the poor choices of her past, she pledges to suppress her baser desires and focus on finding a steady, dependable man, even if that means embracing a boring lifestyle.
The last thing anyone would call Zach is dull. As Enforcer for the Hell's Handlers MC, he embodies the outlaw lifestyle. When Toni moves in next door, Zach can't resist the possibility of a quick, hot, fling. But he soon discovers she's not the easy conquest he's used to.
While Zach works to convince Toni she belongs in his bed, a tenuous relationship with a local gang disintegrates and threatens his MC family. Zach's world is turned upside down when he's unable to keep the danger from touching his club.
As Toni fights to resist Zach's pull, her own peace is shattered by demons from her past. With enemies both old and new barreling down, she throws out her rules and turns to Zach for aid. Soon, she finds herself firmly entrenched in Zach's dangerous world.
Is it possible for her to curb her desires, or is she doomed to repeat the mistakes of her past?
None of it will matter if Zach can't keep their enemies at bay.
Prologue
Tennessee 2008
It was finally fucking over.
Or maybe it was just beginning.
Either way, years, years of busting his ass, taking shit, and being treated like a worthless maggot were finished.
The vote was unanimous.
He was finally a brother.
Well, he was ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the way in. They couldn’t just vote him in and chuck him the patch he’d been salivating over for the past two years. No, they had to throw him one last challenge, and a bitch of a test it was.
A branding. The Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club emblem. On the left forearm. It was as important as the patches on the leather cut each brother wore. So important, if a man was tatted on his left forearm he couldn’t even prospect. No, the emblem had to be seared into clean skin, so anyone and everyone would know who belonged to the motorcycle club.
And if being branded wasn’t bad enough, there were rules that went along with the barbaric ceremony.
Every brother had to be in attendance. Heckling, ribbing, waiting to see just how much the new member wanted to be a part of the life. Waiting for them to crack.
No screaming.
No tears.
No passing out.
A grunt of pain was allowed, but beyond that, any outward show of weakness would null and void the unanimous vote to end the prospecting period and make him a fully-patched member of the Hell’s Handlers MC.
He wouldn’t make a peep. They could cut his fucking arm off and beat him with it and Zach still wouldn’t utter a sound. That patch was his, and the only way he’d give it up was if some lucky motherfucker managed to pry it from his cold, dead hands. Even then, he’d haunt the bastard and wear the thing as a spirit.
A shrill whistle cut through the raucous laughter and drunken male partying around a huge bonfire. The fire was necessary because the night air was barely butting up against forty degrees. And, of course, the guys made him stand around shirtless while he waited for his fate.
Usually, the sound of fucking made up much of the party’s noise, but not tonight. This was just for the men, brothers in all but blood. At least this early part of the night. After Zach got his patch, they’d bring in the club pussy and he’d have his pick of the litter. One, two, hell even three women if he wanted. He’d earned it, watching brother after brother partake in the sweet privilege that was not bestowed on prospects. Club pussy was for patched members only.
And now he was one.
His dick twitched in his pants but died the moment his president spoke. “Okay, fuckers, listen up.”
All around him, his soon to be new brothers lowered their drinks and gave their leader, Copper, their full attention. At twenty-nine, Copper was young to be in the role of club president, and since he’d been at it for almost four years, he was officially the youngest leader in the club’s near fifty-year history.
“We’re just minutes away from welcoming another brother into the club. Shit, Zach’s been one of the best prospects we’ve ever had. Tough as fuckin’ nails, pulls more than his own weight, never runs his mouth, loyal.” A puff of steam drifted from Copper’s mouth as he spoke to the group.
The prez wasn’t one to be fucked with. A good few inches over six feet, with a beard the color of a dirty penny, and plenty of hair to match, he was mean as a starving pit-bull. But Copper had the respect of every man in the club. Not just because he held the title of president, but because he’d earned it, dragging the club from the brink of disaster and making it a thriving brotherhood once again.
Zach blew on his hands, trying to infuse some warmth into the frozen digits. Damn, it was colder than a witch’s titty and standing around shirtless for the past half hour hadn’t helped anything.
“Just one more test of this asshole’s strength before he gets to be one of us. Ready, boys?” Copper waved Zach over to the mountain of wood crackling and spitting sparks. Sticking out of the bonfire, a long branding iron roasted away, just waiting to scorch some of Zach’s skin.
Shouts of encouragement and a few hecklers betting on how much of a pussy he was and what octave his scream would hit reached him as he made his way to the fire and his waiting president. Careful to keep his expression neutral, Zach drew up next to his prez and paused. Wasn’t that the whole point? Act like he wasn’t scared. Wasn’t about to shit his pants in anticipation of what would probably be the worst physical pain he’d ever experienced.
Fuckin’ Copper’s facial hair split and his teeth gleamed in the flickering fire. Prez lived for this bull. And if he didn’t, he sure acted like he did with that shitty grin of anticipation. “Anything you want to say first?”
Zach shook his head while he bounced on the balls of his feet, hitting his pecs as hard as he could. Maybe if he could get some pain going somewhere else, the burn of the iron wouldn’t be so bad.
“Won’t work,” Copper said, as though reading his mind. “Tried the same thing when I was in your spot. Ain’t nothing gonna make this shit any better.” He bent and retrieved a bottle from next to his foot. Zach had no idea what was in it, moonshine probably. “You know the drill. Bottle in your left hand. Ten seconds to drink as much as you can. Hold your arm out straight. I’ll mark ya. No dropping the bottle. No spilling. No screaming. No puking. Stay on your feet for two whole minutes. Then you’re a fuckin’ brother.”
Zach nodded. His chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm as his breathing increased and the blood raced through his veins. After blowing out a breath, he grabbed the bottle and brought it to his lips, tilting his head back and opening his throat as much as he could.
Some of the nastiest hooch he’d ever tasted flooded his mouth and streamed down his throat, burning a path to his stomach. Fitting really, since he was about to be burned all to a crisp anyway. Somewhere in t
“Three…two…one…arm!”
Zach tore the bottle from his lips and extended his arm. Unable to look away, he stared in fascinated horror as the glowing end of the iron made contact with the thin skin of his forearm. There was a fraction of a second where his eyes registered the flesh-to-iron connection, but the pain hadn’t yet reached his brain.
And then it did.
All-consuming, searing pain like he’d never experienced fired through his nerve endings. Though the spot being branded was no bigger than a silver dollar, agony seemed to encompass his entire being until he couldn’t recognize where it originated from. Then there was the audible singe accompanied by the stench of melting flesh. He wasn’t expecting that.
Blinding pain was a phrase he’d heard before, but in that moment, he lived it. Darkness clouded his vision, and he slammed his knees back, determined not to succumb to the blissful oblivion that hovered just out of reach.
All around him, men screamed and hollered, but he couldn’t make out their cries over the rushing in his ears. Nostrils flaring with each forceful inhalation and exhalation, he mashed his teeth together, probably pulverizing the enamel, as he fought to remain conscious.
Then, the nausea hit. Instead of helping to lessen the pain, the damn moonshine sloshed in his gut and started a trip back up his esophagus, just as disgusting the second time around.
His eyes locked with Copper’s. The grinning bastard was definitely enjoying it. All the more motivation to remain standing, quiet, and avoid vomiting the moonshine all over.
Copper pulled the iron away and tossed it to the ground, but it did nothing to diminish the agony. After what seemed like an eternity, Copper pulled his gaze away and checked his watch. Seconds ticked by slower than the thickest motor oil dripping from an engine. Finally, he looked at Zach again and this time his smile was genuine, welcoming. “Two minutes, brother.”
Brother. Sweeter fucking words had never been spoken.
Copper grabbed him by the elbow and lifted his throbbing arm. The pain was still there, but now the rush of excitement at achieving his two-year long goal overrode the worst of it. That, and the moonshine was kicking in.
With a loud cry of triumph, Copper held up Zach’s branded arm. “Say hello to your newest brother, men.” Cheers rose up all around.
Zach swayed on his feet as pain and nausea still warred for victory over his consciousness.
Copper whistled, reigning in the crazy. “He’s now to be shown the same respect any other brother receives. He’s going to make a damn fine addition to the club.”
Zach’s chest constricted as pride surged.
“Proud of you, brother,” Copper said, for Zach’s ears only. “You were one hell of a prospect, and you’ll be one hell of an addition to the club.”
“Thanks, Prez.”
Raising his voice again, Copper turned to the rowdy crowd. “Now someone get Zach a beer and some pussy. The man’s waited long enough.”
They wouldn’t be giving him any pain medication for the burn, but losing his dick in a club girl should take care of the last of the discomfort.
Brothers converged on him from all angles, slapping his back and welcoming him. Not only would the moment be burned into his skin forever, but it was seared into his brain as well.
Best night of his life.
He was in.
Now it was time to set his sights on an executive position.
Enforcer would do quite nicely.
Chapter One
Tennessee Present Day
Toni trailed her hand along the sparkling clean counter top as she strolled the length of the diner. Spotless. Always clean to the point of sanitized. The health department had nothing on her parents.
All her life, their family-owned diner had done well. Their baby. More so than their flesh and blood child. A fact that had messed with Toni’s head growing up, but she’d long ago come to terms with. Or so she liked to think. Some people just weren’t meant to be parents.
The diner had been a thriving business from the moment Lucy and Roger Jennings hung the first open sign in the window.
Location, location, location.
They’d always had it going for them. The town itself was itty bitty. A true American small town where neighbors borrowed a cup of sugar, citizens were all up in each other’s business, and gossip spread like a fiery line of gasoline lit by a match.
Townsend, Tennessee just happened to be one of the gateways to the Great Smoky Mountains. Fortunate for business owners because throngs of tourists, campers, and hikers shuttled through the area year after year. Summertime never failed to be packed with visitors from all over, eager to spend time in one of America’s most beautiful regions.
Closing down the diner would be a tragedy. It was iconic. A landmark in their little slice of the world. Some of the regulars had been enjoying the cooking here almost daily for thirty-plus years. As a child, Toni used to imagine owning it all by herself. Having everyone in town swing by to chat with her as much as to eat the food. The diner had been home to her more than her actual house had. Especially as she grew into her preteen years, and her relationship with her parents deteriorated.
The chatter of the townspeople. The smells of frying bacon, brewing coffee, and cinnamon rolls. Even the heat of the kitchen after hours of cooking comforted her. The sights, sounds, and smells of the diner were so burned into her sense memory, it was difficult to think about parting with it forever.
But now Toni lived in Chicago. Had a job in Chicago. A boyfriend in Chicago. A life in Chicago. One she wasn’t willing to give up to run the diner her deceased parents left in her care. Especially given the fact that she hadn’t spoken to her parents in over five years.
Really, it was a wonder anything had been left to her at all. Her inheritance came down to one of two things. Either Lucy and Roger hadn’t gotten around to changing their will before their untimely deaths, or they just figured screw it, Toni was their only child. Who else would they leave their legacy to?
So, she inherited a diner.
And a house.
Two things that were now solely her responsibility. Two responsibilities she didn’t want.
The plan was to find a buyer for the diner as well as the house. The money she’d receive would go a long way toward purchasing her dream home in Chicago.
Selling the diner would be the best decision all around. She could vet the new owners. Choose someone who would continue to run it as a diner so she didn’t feel like she was selling off the one good thing from her childhood. No matter her fondness for the establishment, she didn’t want it. It wasn’t part of her life plan.
For some reason, she had to keep reminding herself of that. The idea of someone else owning and operating what her child-self had imagined running put a bad taste in her mouth. Even if a buyer planned to run the diner exactly as her parents had, some things would inevitably change. And something about that had her heart aching.
The last piece of her childhood, last good piece anyway, and she was selling it off like a fatted calf bound for slaughter.
From the booth closest to the entrance, her phone chirped. She’d dropped her purse there when she arrived, because it would be hard to forget on her way out. After digging the phone out of her giant bag, she grinned at the display. “Hi, Uncle Mark,” she greeted her favorite person in the world.
“Hi, sweetie. How’re you holding up? I’m so sorry I had to jet five minutes after the funeral.”
“I’m good, Uncle Mark. And I think I told you the last four times you apologized, to knock it off.” She sighed. “Let’s be real here, no one would have held it against you if you hadn’t come at all.”
He snorted. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I didn’t do it for them. I did it for you.”
