Chapter Reveal~ Lay It Down by Carina Adams


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The Bastards MC Series Boxed contains the first two books in the series - Always Been Mine and Honey Whiskey

 

Josephine Walker:
My carefully constructed, picture perfect life is crumbling around me. For the first time in fifteen years, I don't know who I want to be.

 

I need to find me.

 

I'm done playing it safe, done caring what others think. I want wild and crazy. And, as much as I try to ignore it, I want Matt to see me as more than just his best friend.

 

Matty Murphy:
The Bastards live in a world most don't understand. We follow our own rules, only accountable to each other, the innocents we protect, and the people we couldn't save. Each of us wears a mask, hiding behind a polite smile and a respectable job, covering the monsters inside. I made peace with who I was a long time ago. I have no regrets.

 

Except one.

 

Jo Walker. I'm not letting her go without a fight.

Release Date : April 7th

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Prologue
Matty
A giggle floated across the room, snagging my attention from the conversation a few of the guys were having around me. I didnā€™t have to look up to know who the contagious sound was coming fromā€”Joes had a laugh like no other. It was a sound that always made me smile.
Then again, Jo had an uncanny ability to make everyone around her react that way. Iā€™d once bet a co-worker he couldnā€™t spend the entire day locked in a car with her without laughing. The crotchety old bastard was adamant that she was annoying as fuck and he wouldnā€™t as much as crack a smile. Heā€™d even rolled his eyes at her as they were leaving, scowling at whatever story sheā€™d been sharing.
I didnā€™t gloatā€”muchā€”when he walked up at the end of the day and put a fifty in my hand. I did laugh loudly as I walked to my car, but that was only because Iā€™d been in his shoes.
I may have been a member of the Josephine Walker fan club, but after that day, Robert Pappas became the president. Any time one of our co-workers complained about the new kid, Old Bobbyā€”as Jo affectionately called himā€”was quick to put them in their place. Easiest money Iā€™d ever made.
Another laugh pulled my thoughts back to the present, and I looked up, watching her with our work friends. A group of us had come out for our monthly ā€œBabes and Boozeā€ night; I inwardly cringed at the God-awful title it had been given. It was the one evening a month when we grabbed our significant others and went out drinking to forget that we were responsible adults, a night we all looked forward to for weeks.
There was only one rule: no talking about work. It might sound simple to follow, but at least one of us broke it every month. We couldnā€™t leave the job at the office, no matter how hard we tried. A bad case stayed with you long after youā€™d gone home. We all had ā€˜em, but some of us were a lot more fucking unlucky than others. Sometimes you just needed to lift the bottle, drown the memories, and depend on your friends to get you home.
Tonight, that was my plan. As much as I loved my job, some days I wished Iā€™d stayed a carpenter. A bored housewife who wanted to flirt with the help was a hell of a lot easier to forget than the case Iā€™d been assigned this week. Todd, a tiny toddler, had been beaten bloody because his mom didnā€™t have one fucking ounce of maternal instinct and lacked even the smallest amount of motherly love. Iā€™d seen some fucked up shitā€”hell, we all had in this jobā€”but Iā€™d never forget his bruised face, eye swollen shut, and the fear that made every inch of his body shrink away when I walked into his hospital room. He would never remember the words I had whispered or even begin to understand what I meant when I promised him heā€™d never go through it again. But Iā€™d never forget.
That kid had gotten to me. Part of me wanted to scoop him up and take him home, spend the rest of my life making sure he never missed another meal or bath and proving to him that he could be a kid, a real kid, without fear of physical harm. Another part of me wanted to call Rocker and have the boys come take care of the parents, just to make sure they never got him back. Instead, I did my job. I let the law work the way it was designed and prayed that it wouldnā€™t let me down. Because I sure as shit didnā€™t know how I would react if his parents got him back and hurt him again. I wasnā€™t sure I could do my job if there was a next time.
I could rest easier knowing that one of the best foster moms I had ever worked with was staying at his bedside at the hospital until Todd was discharged. Then she would take him home and love him like her own until his parents could get their shit together. She would hold him, and scare away the monsters in the night, tell him he was adorable and funny and sweet, and give him lots of kisses. She was a fucking saint, the kind of mom every kid deserved. The idea that she might save him then Iā€™d have to take him back to shitty-ass parents pissed me off.
Three days later and I was still pissed off. I could feel the tension flow through my body, as if it was just waiting for someone to infuriate me further so I could use my fists and get out some of this anger. I took a long drag off my bottle, hoping it would help me forget this week.
Joes picked that moment to look over at me, her smile slowly fading into a frown as she caught my eye. Shit! I hadnā€™t even realized I was giving her the death glare until she raised an eyebrow and tipped her head in silent question. I shook mine, hoping she would understand that she wasnā€™t my target, and sent her a quick smile. Our friend Teagan grabbed Joā€™s arm, dragging her eyes away from mine, and said something that made everyone laugh.
Jesus, she was gorgeous when she laughed. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I took another gulp of my Sam Adams, unable to tear my eyes away from her. She'd pulled her dark hair back, giving me the perfect view of her face; her usually pale skin had a pink tone tonight, probably from all the alcohol sheā€™d consumed, but it suited her. Even from halfway across the bar, I could see the pale blue-green of her eyes. She was beautiful all the time, but when she laughedā€¦
No. I shook my head, scowling at my thoughts. She was taken. Seriously fucking taken. Happily married taken. I ground my teeth at the idea. Married to a fucking douchenozzle who didnā€™t even begin to deserve her. I may have some serious shit buried deep, but compared to that fucker, I looked like a prince. I took another swig, pissed at my thoughts. She was my Joes, my best friend. That was it. That was all she could ever be, and any other ideas that filtered through my mind, Iā€™d blame on the booze or my miserably fucked up week. Just another reason for me to be pissed off at the world.
I needed a shot. Screw oneā€”I needed ten. Chased by a couple glasses of Jack. I turned back to my buddies, made my excuses, and headed to the bar.
ā€œYou okay?ā€ Joeyā€™s voice was full of concern as she slid up to the counter next to me.
I nodded, threw my head back, and swallowed, hissing as the harsh liquor burned its way down my throat. ā€œI will be.ā€
ā€œWanna talk about it?ā€
I could feel her heated gaze but refused to look at her. I didnā€™t need to see the concern I was sure was etched all over her face. Instead I shook my head and lifted the next shot in line. She chuckled, and I turned to her in surprise.
ā€œJesus, you are a stubborn ass!ā€ She shook her head, but I couldnā€™t tell if it was in annoyance or humor. Then she smiled and stepped in closer, wrapping her arms around my hips. ā€œIā€™m sorry you had such a rough day.ā€
I sighed, moving my arm around her back and pulling her close. If she didnā€™t care that Billy or our friends saw us like this, I didnā€™t either. Fuck ā€˜em. Half of ā€˜em thought we were already screwing, and the other half knew she thought of me like a big brother. I couldnā€™t care less about any of their opinions. As for Billy, he could suck it. I leaned my chin down to rest on the top of her head, enjoying her soft body against me, while she gave me a quick squeeze then pulled away.
I let her back up but kept my arm over her shoulders. My mood instantly improved. ā€œWhat was that for?ā€
She smiled up at me then shrugged. ā€œYou needed a hug.ā€ She laughed lightly, as if embarrassed by her actions. She tipped her head back to meet my eyes then wrinkled her nose. ā€œI like her.ā€
One of the many reasons she was my best friend, Jo was a master at changing the subject and could distract me from even my worst thoughts. ā€œYeah?ā€
ā€œYeah.ā€ Jo smirked. ā€œI mean, obviously sheā€™s gonna wake up in a few weeks and wonder why in the hell sheā€™s dating an old man who looks like you, but in the meantime, she seems pretty great.ā€
ā€œOld man, huh? Last time I checked, you were about a minute younger than me.ā€
ā€œDude, you turn thirty-five next month and thatā€™s ancient!ā€ Her eyes grew wide in exaggeration, and she laughed. ā€œAnd what is she, like, twelve?ā€
I snorted. Tay definitely looked a lot younger than twenty-six. ā€œYep, something like that.ā€ I couldnā€™t help but smile down at her.
ā€œSeriously though, she is beautiful. You werenā€™t lying; I think she may be the prettiest woman Iā€™ve ever met.ā€ A frown crossed her features, but she cleared her face before I could say anything.
I raised an eyebrow, sure I was missing something.
ā€œAnd sheā€™s nice. I canā€™t believe Iā€™m going to say this, but I think youā€™ve finally found it.ā€
ā€œIt?ā€ I didnā€™t want to know what she meant, but I had to ask.
ā€œYour future.ā€ I didnā€™t know what to say, and she shrugged knowingly. ā€œYou donā€™t have to say anything, but itā€™s been written all over your face all night. Youā€™re distracted because of work, yeah, but youā€™ve got this goofy surprised look too. As if you just realized something important. Kind of like the one you had when you realized you were in love with Becky.ā€ Jo moved her attention to the bar, as if avoiding me, and grabbed my glass of whiskey. After taking a giant gulp, she turned back to me. ā€œI was worried. After Bexā€¦ā€
She bit her bottom lip and ā€œhmphedā€ the way she did when she was debating something. That habit always distracted me and pulled my thoughts to places they shouldnā€™t be, like wondering what sounds she would make if it was my teeth sinking into her. Forcing my mind to clear, I raised the third shot and downed it fast.
ā€œI just worry about you.ā€
ā€œI know.ā€ Iā€™d been a screwed up mess after my divorce; there wasnā€™t a bottle of booze I didnā€™t like.
Joes had come to my hotel a few weeks after Iā€™d left my house, and she made me sober up. She stayed with me for days while I acted like a pathetic loser, whining and crying and telling her I didnā€™t have a future without my wife or kid. It was an embarrassing time, and Iā€™d wiped most of it from my mindā€”of course sheā€™d remembered.
I swallowed hard. ā€œYou really think Taylorā€™s future material? ā€˜Cause sheā€™s obviously too good for me.ā€
Jo chuckled. ā€œObviously. But sheā€™s young and youā€™reā€¦ well, youā€™re you. Sheā€™s probably convinced sheā€™s the lucky one.ā€ She shook her head again. ā€œYou be nice to her!ā€
Iā€™d been seeing Taylor for a few weeks, and even though Iā€™d told Jo all about her and Taylor all about Joes, Iā€™d been dreading introducing them. Becky hadnā€™t been bothered by the fact that my best friend was a woman; she trusted me, and I never would have betrayed that trust. But someā€”hell, mostā€”of the women Iā€™d dated since the divorce didnā€™t feel the same way. My last girlfriend had been convinced that I was going to leave her for Jo one day; instead I broke it off because she wouldnā€™t stop obsessing and wanted me to stop seeing Joes anywhere other than work. I apparently needed to come with a warning label: Hot female best friend included. Petty, self-centered, and jealous women need not apply.
Taylor wasnā€™t jealous of anyone; she knew she was damn close to perfection and didnā€™t have a problem letting everyone know she was Godā€™s gift to men. Yet not only was the threat of another woman still there, but I would do anything for the other woman in this scenario. I just didnā€™t know how Tay would feel once she figured out how close Joes and I really were.
I was worried about Jo too. Sheā€™d been crushed after my divorce. She tells everyone that Iā€™m her best friend, but there were times when it seemed that she and Bex were closer than we were. Sheā€™d laugh and tell me it was the ā€œgirl codeā€ that made her take Beckyā€™s side in arguments and that I was still her best friend. Iā€™d complain about it, but secretly, I liked the fact that the two of them were cohorts, because it meant I got to spend more time with my two favorite girls. When Bex left me though, sheā€™d dropped Jo too, devastating my friend. I didnā€™t want to be the cause of that pain again. If she and Taylor got close, and Tay and I didnā€™t work out, Joes would be left once more.
It had been almost a month since weā€™d started dating, almost two since weā€™d met, and it was time for me to introduce the two most important women in my life. Figures it would happen at such a fan-fucking-tastic time, but the week had already been shit, and if they didnā€™t like each other, that would be par for the course my life had taken lately. I may not have shown it, but I was relieved to avoid that bomb and happy that at least Jo liked Taylor.
ā€œWhen am I not nice?ā€
Jo only answered my question with an angry one-eyebrow look.
ā€œHey!ā€ I held up my hands in defense. ā€œIā€™m nice to her!ā€ I laughed.
ā€œWho are you being nice to?ā€ Pretty Boy Billy Boy came up behind Jo and wrapped his arms around her possessively.
There wasnā€™t a single man in that bar still wearing what theyā€™d worn to work except for him. No, everyone else had gone home and changed into jeans. But Billy? His pompous ass needed the entire world to see he wore a suit and tie; he needed everyone to think he was important.
Fucking asshat. I reached for my glass and took a long drink as he slid his face into Joā€™s neck. I fucking hated him with every fiber of my body, but I nodded my hello. ā€œBilly.ā€
ā€œMatt.ā€ His voice was just as cool as mine; there was clearly only one reason we needed to talk to each other, and she was standing right between us. He gave Joes a quick squeeze, making her squeak. ā€œYou ready to go, Pudge? Iā€™m exhausted!ā€
My hand tightened on the glass when I heard the nickname he still used. Fucking hate him. I clenched my jaw, remembering the promise Iā€™d made to Jo last year about minding my own goddamned business. As much as I wanted to beat his ass into oblivion for the sly way he constantly talked down to her, I had to hold it in. He was Joā€™s choice, not mine. My job was to support her.
Pudge, Joes told me once, was his term of endearment for her. I didn't understand how a name like that could ever be anything other than an insult. And only an absolute selfish fuck would not be able to see how much it bothered her; it freaking bothered me for her. She wasn't fat. I hated the word curvyā€”since it had been overused in the last few years to explain away obesityā€”but that was exactly what Jo was. She reminded me of the 50s pin-up girls in Uncle Liam's workshopā€”full and round in all the right places, tight and toned in the rest. Lately she'd gotten too thin for my liking, a fact I blamed on Billy and his insulting nickname. I tried to keep my face blank but knew my repulsion must show.
Jo caught my look, and for an instant, shame drifted over hers and she broke eye contact. Patting Billyā€™s hand, she nodded. ā€œYeah, babe. Iā€™ll be right there. Go get the coats?ā€ Billy grumbled but retreated back to their table, and she turned eyes that vaguely reminded me of the Caribbean Sea to me. ā€œYou sure youā€™re okay? ā€˜Cause if you need me to, I can stay.ā€ She smirked suddenly. ā€œIā€™m not sure how your girlfriend would feel about me hitching a ride home, butā€¦ā€
I fought the urge to haul her into my arms and instead cupped the softness of her cheek. I stared into her eyes, getting lost for a minute as I thought about what I really wanted to say. Fucking right I need you to stay. I need you to come home with me, need you to make this entire week fade into oblivion. Reality crept in, and I shook my head. ā€œNo. Go home. I need to go save Taylor from Teagan anyway.ā€
She reached a hand up, covering mine. ā€œYou know Iā€™m here if you need me, right? I'll always be just a phone call away.ā€
I nodded. There wasnā€™t much I was sure about anymore, but that fact was clear.
She dropped her hand to my chest as she stepped into me, stretching up on tiptoes, and kissed my cheek. ā€œLove you, Matty.ā€ She smiled quickly then backed away, my hand falling from her. ā€œSee you tomorrow!ā€ Jo called over her shoulder as she made her way to Billy.
I finished off the whiskey before I turned and leaned back against the bar. Taylor was lost in conversation with a group of clerks from work, not even noticing that I wasnā€™t where sheā€™d left me earlier. I watched her laugh with my friends, waiting for her to realize I was staring, hoping she could feel my eyes on her. She never gave me as much as a glance.
Jo was wrong; Taylor wasnā€™t my future. I had to be honest with myself, as much as I fucking hated the idea. There was only one woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, and she was taken by a dickwad who thought he was too good for her. If she was mine, Iā€™d do anything to keep a smile on her face, make her happy, and keep her safe.
I glowered at that thought, knowing Iā€™d never have the chance. The ball-busting truth was that Billy wasnā€™t the only one bad for her; the skeletons in my closet terrified even me and were hidden away for a damned good reason. If Joes knew a quarter of my shit, the secrets I kept, sheā€™d run away screaming. Iā€™d never be able to let her in because once I did, sheā€™d leave and never look back. That was not a chance I was willing to take.
No, Jo would never be mine.
That cold hard fact pissed me off more than everything else that had happened this week. Fuck my life. I turned back to the bar and ordered another round.


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Carina Adams has been writing and creating characters for as long as she can remember, allowing her to fall in love with the next man of her dreams with every new story.
Thankfully, fate stepped in and granted her the ultimate wish - a life full of men. Carina lives in a picturesque New England town with her husband, the man who ruined the thought of all others, and two amazing sons who always keep her on her toes.
Carina received her MBA in May, but would much rather play with her imaginary friends (the voices in her head) than work her 8 to 5. When she isnā€™t trying to juggle being a working mom with karate and football practices, surprising her children with her sci-fi movie knowledge, or writing, you can find her with her nose pressed against her kindle, laughing with friends, or living life vicariously as her Derby Girl persona, Writers Block.
Carina is the author the of Bastards MC series and best selling Forever Red. She is currently writing Out of The Blue, the follow up to Forever Red. She loves to hear feedback from her readers, no matter what type. You can email her at:
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