Sweet Whiskey Dreams: Deacons of Peril MC Book One Read online

  Sweet Whiskey Dreams

  Deacons of Peril MC Book One

  Vera Quinn

  Contents

  Note from the author

  Character List

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Also by Vera Quinn

  Contact or follow me:

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Vera Quinn

  Cover design by Tracie Douglas @ Dark Water

  Covers: www.facebook.com/darkwatercovers

  Editing and Formatting by Maggie Kern @ www.facebook.com/Ms.Kedits

  This book is a work of fiction. The names characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used factiously and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for short quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, in any form, or used in whole or part by any means existing or produced in the future without written permission from the author.

  Dedication

  Dedication. . .

  I am dedicating Sweet Whiskey Dreams to my readers. Every one of you is appreciated and thank you for letting me share my passion with you.

  Note from the author

  In many of my books, I have different diseases and illnesses that my characters face in their lifetimes.

  Lupus is the one in this book. Lupus can be unpredictable, and it ravages various parts of the body. Even though each case has its similarities, it can be challenging how it affects each person is different. It’s hard to detect, strikes without warning, has no known cause or cure, and has an array of symptoms. The treatments for one person may not work for the next. It can go into remission and then the flare-ups are unpredictable. For more informative information you can go to:

  The National Resource Center on Lupus

  www.lupus.org

  The books I write are fiction, but I try to state true facts on any disease I write about. Jenna, my character with Lupus, had to endure extreme treatments. Her recovery time in the book from chemo is one that isn’t common in most cases. This is where the fiction part comes in. All the character’s symptoms and reactions to the chemo can happen but the recovery time is normally longer.

  I don’t wish to portray the timeline as a true one, considering it depends on each person’s body and reactions to the chemo.

  Character List

  Eli “Grinder” James

  Jenna “Red” Taylor

  Ryder James Taylor - 18 yrs. old

  Whiskey Rose Taylor - 18 yrs. old

  Deidra “D.D.” James

  Maximus “Max” James - 20 yrs. old

  Liam James - 19 yrs. old

  Lexi James - 16 yrs. old

  Candy Lawson

  Dixie James - 15 yrs. old

  Trace James - 13 yrs. old

  Club members:

  Grinder – President

  Trapper – Vice President

  Seal – Enforcer

  Bogie – Sergeant-at-arms

  Chipper – Road Captain

  Tanker –Tech Guy

  Eagle –Treasurer

  Patched members:

  Max – Baller – Bull Frog –Buzzard

  Dom – Jester – Buckshot

  Prospects:

  Zeke – Wally – Reese – Dalton – Preston

  Work associate - Sid

  Prologue

  Jenna…

  I know what I’m going to do tonight; I have no right to do it, but sometimes the pain that you carry in your soul guides you instead of your conscience. I keep telling myself. Jenna stop, but I can’t. I need this. I can’t survive another day of the nothingness that I have been feeling.

  My pain has been guiding me since that awful night three years ago. That night tore away every dream I had ever had. It took my past, my future, my hopes, my dreams, my husband and my unborn daughter. I lost everything that meant anything to me. My life no longer has any meaning or purpose. I haven’t been living, just existing. Not feeling, just going through a hollow life until the realization hits me that I have lost everything, and then I feel excruciating pain where my heart once was. I relive that night every night in my nightmares.

  The slick abandoned road we should have never been on, water that had risen over the road from the swollen creek from all the rain we received over the last few days, and I was in too big a hurry to get home for my baby shower. Chase told me we should stay on the main road. I don’t know why I didn’t listen to the man I loved and still love, but I was determined to take the shortcut that was barely used anymore. I will have that stupid decision on my conscience until my dying day. Our maternity photos had run later than we expected, and I was rushing to stay on schedule. I knew I should have slowed down, but I didn’t want to be rude and keep people waiting. Why couldn’t I just have taken my time and listened to what Chase said? One flooded creek and a darkness I couldn’t see in because of the sheets of rain falling on my windshield. I remember Chase’s voice saying be careful, but it’s so soft in my memories now. I barely remember when I lost control of our car and my foot automatically went to the brake. I knew when my foot hit the peddle that I was in trouble and I had done the wrong thing. I panicked and then I had no control and I heard my screams. I saw Chase trying to reach over and help me get control but we were no longer on the road, and I felt the car hit the water. I felt the big thump and the seatbelt tightened around my pregnant belly so tight. I tried to fight with the belt when I was hit with something in the face and then it was all darkness. The darkness pulled me under and deeper and deeper until there was nothing.

  Three days later, I woke up in the hospital disoriented and surrounded by machines and people I didn’t know. One conversation with my dad and my heart was shattered. I cursed the heavens that let me wake up without my family. With time and as the details became clear in my head, I knew there would never be another day of happiness for me. I buried that with Chase and our daughter. The last three years I have gone through the motions but not really lived. I’ve been tormented with regret and what ifs.

  I don’t know how this plan even formed or if I am just in self-preservation mode. I tried drowning my sorrow in alcohol and then prescription sedatives for anxiety. I even mixed the two. I tried throwing myself into work, but when you’re on a downhill slide into depression and trying to numb yourself, interior decorating is not a business that flourishes. Old college t-shirts and sweats is not the way to dress to impress new clients. I tried one-on-one counseling and group therapy, but when you can’t form words that can express how you’re feeling, it’s hopeless and a waste of time. I can’t even look at a church anymore and I know that would crush Chase, if he knew. Chase had deep spiritual beliefs and I am letting him down. I am quite the disappointment; the thoughts I was left with to end it all. Then one day I was walking by the park, and I noticed the mothers with their children and they looked so happy. The seed was planted. I can’t replace my family, but I can fill this emp
ty loneliness inside me with someone to love. I have taken measures that ensure after I walk away tonight, just maybe I can fill some of that loneliness with someone else that belongs only to me. May God help me if this doesn’t work.

  1

  Jenna…

  I have had two men sit down in the seat across from me tonight and they didn’t like my rules that I stated up front. I need to be more tactful and flirt my way through the first part. This is about a one-night stand not a lifelong commitment. Why is it men can’t stand when they aren’t in control and the tables are turned on them? I need to tone down my personality a little and wait until he commits to just one night.

  I’m sitting at the table right in front of the bar. I have noticed on the weekends I have come in here that this is the place to sit to get the most attention, and I paid more money than this entire table and two chairs are worth to sit here. I have left nothing to chance to make tonight happen the right way. I changed my dull brown hair to a deep red. All the magazines say red is the new blonde when it comes to a man’s preference; I’m not a vain woman, but I know I’m not an ugly person. I have lost the curves that Chase once loved, but I notice some men take a second look in my direction. My breasts are large for my body frame and my butt still has somewhat of a curve to it. I used to love to cook and eat and add that to the squats I did, it all made my legs and butt have just the right shape for me, but even with my weight loss I still have a passable body. The clothes I’m wearing are trashy chic; a lot on the trashy side and only chic because of the price tags and they were purchased at an exclusive boutique. The price tags were outrageous even for my taste. The woman in the boutique raged they were the ‘it’ style to wear for a night out at the club and it would turn the heat up in a chilly relationship. Most decent women wouldn't be caught out in this dress. I feel like my butt is hanging out and my boobs are doing a peep show, but it has a designer tag and the heels make my legs look great. I need to look the part of a woman on the prowl. I need to act available even if my I’m not and I don’t think I ever will be again.

  I see the tall dark-haired man that walks in the door and just by the way he carries himself piques my interest. As he walks closer, I can see his face clearer and the scruff he is sporting does nothing to take away from his chiseled good looks. He is young, I’m guessing a good eight to ten years younger than my thirty-four years. His worn jeans and leather vest tell me he is no businessman. His wind-blown hair looks messy but sexy. His biceps are bulging, his chest is massive, his hips slim and his jeans look painted on his muscular legs that lead down to some type of work boots. He is one fine specimen of a man, but in my life before I would have never chosen this man for me. I have a gut feeling I need to proceed with caution with this man. He has an edgy feel about him just from how he looks. This man is going to be a challenge and I don’t know if I’m up for it. I don’t even know if edgy is the right word—alpha-dangerous would better describe him—but I ignore that tingle of warning going up my spine and plaster on my fake smile. He stops at my table and has a slow, sexy smile on his face. He makes it no secret he’s checking my body out. Yes, this man is going to be a challenge. He comes across as a take-charge kind of man, and while he may think he is in charge tonight, tonight is mine and I will accept nothing less.

  “Red, is this chair taken?” Not very original but I’ll play along. His voice is deep and raspy.

  “It is now, handsome. What can I order you to drink?” I wave my hand to the bartender who's making sure my night proceeds the way I want it to by keeping the alcohol flowing.

  “Shouldn't I be asking you what you'd like to drink?” the stranger asks. The man sits down, and a waitress is there to take our order.

  “Not tonight darlin’, it's all on me. What's your pleasure?” I wink at the man and lay it on thick. His smile becomes bigger.

  “My kind of lady,” the stranger says to me and then looks at the waitress. “Whiskey, neat.”

  The waitress looks at me; so far tonight I have stuck to soda.

  “Make that two, top-shelf please.” The waitress raises her eyebrow and I smile at her. That was my signal to her and the bartender to keep them coming.

  “I didn't take you as a whiskey drinker. You’ve been sipping that soda for a while.”

  That surprises me; I thought he just arrived. I guess my shock shows on my face.

  “Did you really think I would just approach a woman without first watching her for a while?”

  “That’s a bit stalkerish isn’t it, Whiskey?” The man full out laughs at me and I see the sparkle in his eyes. His eyes are a deep blue like a Caribbean ocean.

  “I’m passing through and I can't let my guard down. You never know who is safe to be around these days.”

  The waitress sets two glasses in front of each of us and Whiskey gives her a strange look.

  “The boss said the second one is on the house.” The waitress is giving off a nonchalant attitude and she’s convincing.

  “Tell your boss thank you,” I say before Whiskey responds. “Bring us another, I feel lucky tonight.” The waitress just smiles and winks at me.

  “I will repeat myself, I didn't take you for a whiskey drinker.” The man looks like he wants to say something else, but he hesitates. The waitress walks on giving out other drinks. I pick up my first tumbler of whiskey and take a drink; the burn feels good and I finish it all. Whiskey looks around amused. “I stand corrected.”

  “Drink up, Whiskey, you’re getting behind and we can't let that happen, tonight is just beginning.” Whiskey drinks his tumbler dry.

  “If I didn't know any better, beautiful, I would think you were trying to get me buzzed so you can have your way with me. Save your money, I’m easy,” Whiskey laughs. “You don't need to seduce the willing. Our night was sealed as soon as I sat down.” Whiskey changes the subject. “Why did the other two men get sent on their way? You want a walk on the wild side?”

  I look at Whiskey and then down to my other drink. I drain my drink. I no sooner have it gone, and the waitress is there with four more drinks. Whiskey guzzles his second. “Change the next round to whatever is in a longneck and slow them down to one at a time.” The waitress nods her head and leaves us.

  “I have some rules, Whiskey.” I look him in the eyes letting him know I'm serious.

  “The name is Grinder, not Whiskey,” he tells me. “I don't live by anyone's rules and if you want to remember our time together tonight you need to slow down on the alcohol. I’m easy but I don’t take advantage of a woman drunk off her ass.”

  “Is Grinder a first or last name, if you don't mind me asking? Why are you wearing a leather vest in this heat, it must be in the nineties outside?” I get side-tracked by the strange name and a question that has been bothering me since I saw him walk up to my table. I also ignore what he’s said about my drinking. I have built up a tolerance to most alcohol in the last few years.

  “Grinder is my road name, and this is not a vest, it’s a cut.” I must look as confused as I feel. “I’m in a motorcycle club and I assume you know nothing about my lifestyle.” Whiskey sounds impatient but he still has a smile in his eyes.

  “Whiskey, cool your jets, I don't need to know about your lifestyle, and you're right, I don't even know anyone that rides a motorcycle. I don't want to know your history or your future, I just have a few simple questions.” The man looks as if he’s waiting, so I go on. “The first is, what’s your first and last name? The first so I know what name to scream out when you give me the first orgasm I’ve had in three years, and your last because I refuse to get naked with anyone that I don’t know what their last name is. That crosses the line between scratching an itch and being a slut. I’m no slut but like any other healthy woman, I have needs and I think you are the man that could help me with those.” I can tell the man is taken aback by my truthfulness.

  “Are names really that important when I intend to give you more than one orgasm? The kind that starts at your toes, shoots warmt
h up your legs and makes its way to your clit that’s craving the attention that only I can give it?”

  My panties are already wet. I have never had a man talk to me like this. Chase only spoke to me in soft words. This is different but a good different. I feel an ache in my nipples from wanting attention. I down another drink and instead of cooling me off, it sends a warmth through my body. I feel on edge for some reason. I try to focus, it’s time to slow the alcohol down before I blurt everything out.

  “It’s a must for me. I'm not a slut and to guarantee I’m not going to turn into your stalker one-night stand, I don't want to exchange phone numbers or addresses. I don't care what your sign is or your lifestyle. I'm not looking for a commitment, promises or sweet words—all I want is to have one night of countless all-consuming orgasms. I want you to fuck me until I don't know who I am. Not at your place, not at mine, but in the hotel room across the road. When check-out time comes, then we go our separate ways. Hopefully my body will ache for days and your body will know just how much I appreciated your assets. Is that plain enough? I don’t even want to share a meal. I do have one other question though. Do I need to be worried about a jealous girlfriend or wife stabbing me in the back? I’m not a homewrecker. Can you handle all of that, Whiskey?” I have blurted everything out and not in a tactful way. Have I screwed it all up with my liquored-up outburst?