New Release - Wheelie by Jessie Cooke

Title: Wheelie

Series: Southside Skulls Motorcycle Club

Author: Jessie Cooke

Genre: MC Romance

Release Date: February 15, 2018

Wheelie just wanted to make love...have a little fun. 

With a beautiful girl in his bed, he'd never believe the nightmare he would be living in the morning. 

He'd never do anything like this, but who would be believe that now? 

Sabrina was torn between doubt and desire, but the need to find her sister's killer would drive her to do what she knew was needed...at all costs. 

As the mystery unfolds, every road leads to something more sinister, and only adds to the confusion of why the girl died. 

There is someone out there who can connect the missing pieces, but that person is missing too. 

This is the 9th book in the Southside Skulls MC Series. It is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from the previous novels, DAX, CODY, GUNNER, ZACK, LEVI, KAT, HUNTER & GARRETT are included in this story too. 

HEA and No cliffhanger. 

Intended for Mature Readers. 

* * * 

The Southside Skulls MC Series is about members of the MC club, and their friends and associates. 

Each story, while focused around one or more main characters, is not necessarily about a Southside Skulls club member, but the story is related to Skulls members and the club.

“Hey, Kimber, darlin’, can you get me one of those blueberry muffins?” Kimber was new to the club. One of the guys brought her home one night and she just never left. She was a pretty, petite little blonde and after a few months of being on the ranch hadn’t caused any trouble that Dax knew of, so he didn’t mind if she stayed. 

“Sure, Dax.” She never looked him directly in the eyes. She was always polite and courteous, but when he looked at her, she looked at the floor and when she spoke back, it was barely above a whisper. That told Dax she was probably well-controlled, abused, or both at some point in her life. She wasn’t much over eighteen either, maybe twenty, twenty-one. When Dax got a break from all the shit that had been going on lately, he’d probably sit down and talk to her. He wasn’t sure why he so desperately wanted to save them all, but it had become almost a compulsion. 

His real job was calling, though. He was sitting at a table in the bar with stacks of invoices in front of him. The IRS had decided to do an audit on the bakery they owned in town. Dax knew it was the Feds’ way of getting them for something, since nothing else they tried to get them for ever stuck. It pissed him off, especially because the accountant didn’t know the difference between the real invoices and the ones that they used to launder money through the business. Maybe that meant the IRS wouldn’t either, but Dax wasn’t willing to take that chance. He was going through each one of them individually and separating them out before the agent showed up later that afternoon.

“You know, back in the eighties they came out with these really cool things called computers. You just scan or type all your information into them and boom, no stacks of paper. You should get one.” Dax didn’t even look up at Handsome. He just raised his right hand and his middle finger. He heard his VP laugh before sliding into the seat on the other side of the table. “In all seriousness, why is that all on paper?”

Dax sighed and looked up at him. “Because hard drives can’t ever be erased. If it was computerized we’d need two programs and the second one would be a hell of a lot harder to shred than these papers will be, smart-ass. Now, how about you help instead of just talking a bunch of shit?”

“I’d love to, Boss, but you told me to ride up to Mystic with Wheelie today, remember?”

Dax rubbed the back of his neck. Another shit storm was going on in Connecticut simultaneously. Some days he wished that he had an office job. “Bring that fucker back here with you,” he told Handsome, narrowing his blue eyes. “In one piece.”

Handsome grinned. “Is it okay if his pieces are a little bruised and torn?”

Dax chuckled. “Yeah, but seriously, save some for me. If that motherfucker doesn’t have one hell of a good explanation as to why the shipment was thirty thousand dollars short...well, you know.”

“Here you go, Dax.” Kimber had slipped quietly up to the table and set the muffin on a plate in front of him. “Would you like some more coffee?”

“Nah, darlin’, I’m good.”

“You?” she asked Handsome. He grinned and ran his eyes up and down her body in a way that would get his ass kicked by his old lady Callie. Dax just rolled his eyes as Handsome, in a whisper, said:

“I’d love some coffee, beautiful. Thank you.” Kimber’s face reddened and as she turned and walked away, Handsome’s eyes stayed glued to her ass. When he turned back and saw Dax looking at him he said, “Just because I’ve already got my entree doesn’t mean I can’t look at the dessert menu.”

Dax just shook his head at his friend. “What time are you and Wheelie taking off?” Wheelie was one of Dax’s newest pledges. He was a prospect for almost two years before they patched him in. He’d given Dax a lot of room for pause in the two years he prospected and if he hadn’t cleaned up his act over the past year, he wouldn’t be wearing the Skulls patch now. The first six months he was a prospect he completely screwed up taking a luxury car out of the garage they fed out of a lot. He didn’t get caught, but the valets were alerted how they were getting in and out, and so that lucrative well dried up that night. About a month after that, he was fucking some girl behind a bar in Boston. He got arrested for public nudity.

At least that was an interesting story. But the last time he got into trouble was the worst. He’d been drunk in a bar with several of the other brothers. He got into a fight with a blue-collar guy over a woman and in the middle of the fight, he pulled out his gun and pressed it into the guy’s forehead. Luckily for him and everyone else, the safety stuck. Dax’s guys pulled him out of there before the police arrived, and they were able to hide him out until it all blew over. But as part of his punishment, Dax got together the most gruesome photos he could find of men with half their heads blown off. Then he made him go to the prison on Sunday and visit every one of the Skulls incarcerated there for murder. They each told him a story about what life in prison was like. 

After that, Wheelie settled down some. He still liked to smoke, drink, and fuck, but those things Dax could handle. What he wasn’t going to tolerate was some little shit self-destructing and taking the club down with him along the way. He knew his guys weren’t angels, but they knew that if they wanted to swim in shit, they needed to do it far away from the ranch. 

Handsome looked at his phone and said, “He was supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago. Did he stay here last night?”

Dax sighed and looked up at his VP. “You think I’m managing curfews now on top of all this other shit?” Kimber was there again with Handsome’s coffee. He blew her a kiss and thanked her. This time as he watched her ass while she walked away Dax said, “Focus, man. You need to find Wheelie and get out there before Captain Bligh hears we’re coming and disappears.”

Captain Bligh was really Captain Blout, a fifty-something-year-old ship captain that had come highly recommended to Dax for the transport of certain merchandise out of the New England ports. The first two trips went smoothly, and the captain sent his man to the ranch in Massachusetts with the package he’d brought back. Each package should contain a hundred grand. Dax had gotten a package the day before that contained seventy. He’d called the good captain first, but the crook wasn’t answering his phone. Dax found out where the captain was staying in Mystic and he was sending Handsome and Wheelie to escort him back to the ranch to answer for the missing thirty grand. The old bastard was going to need to have the thirty grand on him, or he was going to wish he’d drowned himself at sea. 

“Yeah,” Handsome said, taking a gulp of the hot coffee and making a face. “I’ll...” Before he could finish that sentence, a piercing scream or cry came from upstairs. It sounded like someone was being killed. Dax and Handsome were on their feet and up the stairs in seconds with the rest of the guys that had been in the bar trailing behind them. There had only been that one scream, but now that they were at the top of the stairs they could hear a man’s voice repeatedly saying, “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh, motherfucking Christ!” It was Wheelie’s voice. They followed the sound and when Dax tried the door it was locked. He slammed his hand against it. 

“Wheelie! Open up! What the hell is going on in there?”

“Dax! Fuck! I didn’t do this! Fuck! Oh God!” 

“Open the fucking door, Wheelie, or I’m kicking the motherfucker down.” 

The lock disengaged, and the door opened slowly inward. Dax had seen a lot of shit in his life, so nothing much shocked him. But he hadn’t been expecting the sight of the naked brother, saturated in blood...most of it dried.

“Jesus Christ, Wheelie, what the fuck did you do?”

The kid was crying, and the wet tears caused the dark, scarlet blood to flow down his cheeks, over his chin, and across his neck and chest. He had his hands palms-up, and blood dripped down his wrists. “I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head, harder. “I swear, Dax, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t what? What the fuck didn’t you do?” Handsome had already walked into the room. Dax watched as he pulled the comforter back on the bed and cursed. Handsome left it that way and went into the bathroom. Dax could see the blood-soaked sheet that the comforter had been hiding. Between that blood and what was all over Wheelie, there was no way whatever had spilled it was still alive. 

“Dax!” Handsome yelled from the bathroom. “You better come see this.”

“Dax...” Wheelie reached for him with his blood-drenched hands but thankfully caught himself before touching his president. “I didn’t do that. Please, when you see...oh fuck, I didn’t do it!” Dax drew his eyes away from the hysterical kid and headed for the bathroom. He could hear him still crying and protesting behind him. He knew that he didn’t want to know what Wheelie didn’t do, even before he stepped into the small bathroom and was instantly nauseated by the smell. Dax had smelled death many times and without seeing what Handsome was staring down at in the tub, he knew that was what he was smelling. The shower curtain had been white, but a dark red, bloody handprint stained it now as it lay torn from the pole on the floor next to the tub. The tub had been filled too full, and water had sloshed over the sides. Dax looked at Handsome before finally turning his eyes downward on the grisly scene. 

“Oh Jesus.” Handsome had his hand over his nose and mouth, and Dax did the same as he stared down into the tub. It was more blood than water, but that wasn’t the horrifying thing. A young woman was soaking in it. She was nude, at least as far as Dax could see where the scarlet water didn’t cover her. One arm hung limply over the side of the tub. Her hand was facing upwards and covered in cuts surrounded by dried blood. Her head was lying back against the porcelain tile, tipped at an odd angle to the right. The hair that was plastered to her face and shoulders looked like it used to be blonde, but now it was red in places where the blood was wet and almost black where it had dried. A deep gash was drawn across her throat, almost ear to ear, and it was obvious that was where the blood that filled the tub had come from. Her green eyes were open and staring up at them, and her mouth was shaped in a perfect “O” like she had died screaming. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone heard her? “Wheelie!” The kid appeared in the doorway, now with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was shaking from head to toe, but Dax doubted that it was from being cold. “Who is she?”

“I met her at a party last night, the one I went to with Buzz. It was at this chick’s house in Dorchester...”

“Fucking Dorchester? What the fuck were you doing in Dorchester? You know...” Handsome stopped his rant when Dax put his hand up. The club was having problems with another club that had staked Dorchester out as their turf. They all knew they weren’t supposed to go there unless it was on Dax’s orders. But that wasn’t the important issue at the moment.

“Go on,” Dax told Wheelie, a hell of a lot calmer than he was feeling. 

“I know we weren’t supposed to be there. I told Buzz, but we had already smoked some weed and both of us had a few beers. He said this house was out on the border where the rich people lived and there was no way we’d run into any of the Blades there...” He was talking fast, without taking a breath. “I know we shouldn’t have. Fuck!” He looked down at the woman. “Fuck...” He whimpered. 

“Focus!” Dax snapped at him. “On me. Who is she?”

“She lived at the house. She wasn’t supposed to be at the party, it was her sister’s deal. Their parents were out of town and they were house sitting. I was smoking on the back patio and she came down and the next thing I know, we’re making out. Her sister came out and freaked out on us, so Buzz and I went to leave. I was getting on my bike out front and all of a sudden she was there with a backpack. She said she was sick of her parents and her sister treating her like a kid. She wanted to come with us. She was hot, Dax, and old enough,” he added quickly. 

“Well, she’s not hot anymore, Wheelie, and she’s dead. So tell me how the fuck that happened?”

“I don’t know. I fucking swear to God I don’t know. I woke up covered in blood and I was freaking out. I got up to look for her and this is where I found her...how I found her. I didn’t do it, Dax! I swear to God!”

“Dax!” Handsome called out. Dax took a deep breath to steady himself. He wanted to drop the kid right there. 

“Don’t move!” he told him before he went into the other room. Hawk had followed them up and now he was standing next to the mirrored dresser with a wallet in his hand. At least he had sense enough to put on his gloves before he touched it, Dax thought. 

“You should see this,” he said, holding out the wallet.

“Um...Dax...” That was Gunner, Dax’s brother. He turned and looked at Gunner first. He was holding a towel in his hand; it was a white one like the ones the girls stocked the clubhouse bathrooms with. But this one was covered with blood and in the center of it, like it had been wrapped up, sat a hunting knife. The fucking knife was huge, with a serrated edge and a pearl handle. Blood covered the blade and the white handle was stained with it as well. 

“Fuck, where was that?”

“Right under the edge of the bed,” Gunner said. 

“Put it back.” He sighed and turned toward Hawk. “What do you want me to look at?”

Hawk flipped open the wallet. Dax didn’t have his gloves and he had no fucking idea how they were going to fix this yet, so he didn’t touch it. He was looking at a Massachusetts driver’s license with a picture of a beautiful woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and green eyes. She was twenty-one. He looked at the name on the license. Her name was Pamela Kent. Kent? Why did that name sound familiar? 

“You see it, Boss?” Hawk asked. Dax looked at the license again, at the street address in Dorchester. He knew that address too. The name and the address...

“Oh my fucking God!”

Hawk for once didn’t have that smug or sarcastic look he usually carried on his face. He actually looked genuinely afraid. “This is Bartholomew Kent III’s kid.”

This couldn’t have been any worse, unless President Trump’s daughter had been visiting. Bartholomew Kent III was the Southside’s newest District Attorney elect. He had won the election on a platform of being tough on crime. Most specifically, getting rid of the gangs on the Southside, all of them, even the ones that rode Harleys and gave a big percentage of their profits back to the community. Bart Kent made a campaign commercial calling them out, and telling them this community didn’t want their “blood money.” 

“Dax?” He heard Wheelie’s voice behind him. His temper was at the breaking point and the sound of that whine in a grown-ass man’s voice was what pushed him over the edge...at least that’s what he told himself. He spun around and let his fist catch the underside of Wheelie’s jaw. The other man was thrown backwards about two feet before he hit the floor. There was complete silence in the room. Dax stared at Wheelie for a few seconds as he rubbed his knuckles and then he said: 

“Nobody touches any fucking thing else. Get him out of here and the rest of you get out. Church in fifteen minutes.”

“Boss, what are we going to do?” Hawk was the only one stupid enough to ask Dax anything while he was that pissed. Dax shot flames out of his eyes as he looked at the old man and said: 

“We might as well drink the fucking poison Kool-Aid before the cavalry gets here. You and Wheelie go first.” He could hear Hawk laughing as he left the room. He wished he were kidding.

Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.

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Release - Garrett by Jessie Cooke

Title: Garrett

Series: Southside Skulls Motorcycle Club

Author: Jessie Cooke

Genre: MC Romance

Release Date: January 15, 2018 

Garrett “Bear” Banks, has the stealth of a sniper and the strength of a viper. but the bad things he’s done, have taken their toll, and now… a life changing decision will free him from his demons.

What he hasn’t planned on, is a woman getting in the way. 

Paige is ready to put her demons to rest, when a giant of a man appears just at the wrong time to make the right decision.

Two tortured people standing at the same place in life, at the start of a journey that will change both of their lives, and those they love…forever.

This is the 8th book in the Southside Skulls MC Series. It is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from the previous novels, DAX, CODY, GUNNER, ZACK, LEVI, KAT & HUNTER are included in this story too.

The Southside Skulls MC Series is about members of the MC club, their associates, and friends. 

Each story, while focused around one or more main characters, is not necessarily about a Southside Skulls club member, but the story is related to Skulls members and the club. 

HEA and No cliffhanger. 

Intended for Mature Readers

“Winter wonderland, my ass,” Garrett said aloud as he trudged up the hill, dressed in white from his head to his toes. He blended easily with the fresh snow, so he should really be happier about it, but cold just wasn’t his thing. It wasn’t that Vegas couldn’t get cold in the winter. Those desert storms could make a man’s balls feel like frozen meatballs. But it was still not the same as winter in Massachusetts. He was anxious to finish this job for Dax and get back home. He’d been in the middle of wrapping up his business when Dax called.

Garrett had five sealed letters in the saddlebags of his bike, but for some reason he’d been carrying the sixth one around in his pocket. Maybe it was because that was the most important one. That was the one that explained to his little girl why she would be better off in a world where he didn’t exist. One last kill…one more sin to add to the list of many, and then he’d be ready to stand up and answer for them all, in front of his maker. If his mother was right with the stories she told him when he was little, and there was a set of pearly gates and a little man named Joseph who sent you up the escalator or down into the heat, he knew where he was going, and it was good that he’d rather be warm. His life hadn’t been all bad, and his sweet little Jessie was proof of that, but he had done unspeakable things and answering for them was the only part of dying that worried him.

Right now, though, he needed to put that on the back burner and concentrate on the task at hand. He kept walking, climbing steadily, and each one of his steps left an indentation in the virgin white powder that covered the earth. He was a big man, weighing in at 310 pounds the last time he checked. That number might be worrisome if he weren’t six-foot-six and the weight weren’t evenly distributed and almost solid muscle. Of course, even if it were fat, it wouldn’t matter now.  

The higher Garrett climbed, the more frigid the air became. His face was covered with a white knit ski mask, but the skin around his eyes stung from the ice that was clinging to his bottom lashes. He should be wearing his goggles, but he hated walking around in them. He’d put them on when he reached his rendezvous point. His thick, white leather gloves were heated at least, and they felt fucking fabulous. His hands were the most important tool he had besides his rifle, so he had to take care of them, but the rest of his body was fucking freezing. The thick, white coveralls he was wearing were saturated with the wet, falling snow and if he thought he was ever going to need it again, he might have worried that his dick would freeze solid and crack right off.

He pushed on. He’d worked in a lot of worse places under a lot of worse conditions. He slowly maneuvered a path that was littered with hidden bushes, stumps, and rocks, but by now he knew where every one of them was at even though the snow had blanketed them all during the night. The branches of the trees that were still visible hung heavily toward the ground, the icicles tugging at them and dangling perilously close to Garrett’s head at times. He walked the obstacle course in snow up to his knees, and it took twice as long as it would have taken in clear weather. It was easy to see why Dax hadn’t tried to take on this job himself, and despite putting his own urgent business aside to do it, Garrett didn’t really mind. This was the one thing in his life that he’d been good at. He was sure it wouldn’t be the thing that got him into heaven, but once he took his own life, that probably wasn’t going to be an option anyways.

When he finally scaled the top of the snowy ridge, he dropped the heavy rifle that had been slung over his shoulder and the backpack he carried, down into the snow, and let his heavy body fall beside them. He lay there in the snow for several minutes, creating a snow angel the size of a dragon before he finally sat up and grabbed his water bottle. As he drank, he looked in the direction of the curling smoke. He couldn’t see the cabin with his naked eye, but he’d already scoped the place out, and he knew Josiah Miller’s routines.

He reached over and unzipped the protective case the rifle was sheathed in. He pulled it out and began his safety checks. The rifle was like an old friend to him. It had taken countless lives…but it had saved countless more. He worked as part of a team in the military, with a spotter, but the truth was that he preferred to work alone. It was the same with most of the rest of his life. He preferred solitude, and he didn’t have very many close relationships. It was why he’d chosen to be a nomad, why he hadn’t seen or talked to his mother in three years, and why he knew he’d be a terrible father to his beautiful little girl—at least, it was one of the reasons. He sighed and began pulling things out of the backpack and setting up his area.

Garrett had studied aerial maps of the place before even going up the mountain for the first time. He’d looked at photographs and satellite pictures, and the first time he went up, he took photos of his own from every angle. He walked the perimeter until he found the perfect spot to stage his kill and then he’d established his own escape route. Then for the next few days he watched Josiah Miller come in and out of the cabin and he got familiar with his target’s routines. Now, he lay down in the snow, ranged the target, and adjusted the position of the gun for the wind and elevation and other variables.

Garrett didn’t like to think of himself as a killer, but he had to admit that was what he was. While he was in the Navy, he could justify what he did by telling himself it was only a job, and one that was saving humanity at that. But once he got out and his job had morphed into traveling the United States for the MC and doing almost exactly the same thing, he wasn’t able to justify it that way any longer. He kept doing it, because it was all he was good at…and he took jobs like this one for Dax because, well, there were just some people you didn’t say no to. Garrett had known Dax for so long that he knew Dax wouldn’t have faulted him for turning the job down, but Dax had been one of very few constants in Garrett’s life. Dax wasn’t frightened or fazed by the changes in Garrett’s personality when he was gone, and he was also one of a handful of people that Garrett knew would be there, saddled up and ready to ride or die, if he needed him. So, he wasn’t about to tell Dax no, even if the job did get in the way of his own plans, temporarily.

Garrett took the high-powered binoculars out of his backpack and while he sat with his back against a tree, he brought them up to his face. He adjusted them until the cabin came into focus. There were no signs of life outside, but the smoke from the chimney told him Miller was inside. It was almost time for him to rise and drink his coffee on the porch. It was what he did every day. Garrett marveled sometimes at how people were such creatures of habit. It was what had gotten a lot of them killed, and they probably didn’t even know it. Garrett had the opportunity to take Miller out many times over that week that he’d been watching him, but he had to wait until everything was in place.

This man had taken Dax’s old lady with the intention of doing her great harm. Even to a killer like Garrett, that was not okay. Miller thought he was paying Dax back for ending his old man’s miserable, hateful existence. He couldn’t see that Dax had done the world a great favor. Dax had also saved Cody and his older brother from continuing to suffer the horrors of abuse the man heaped upon them, but Josiah Miller either didn’t know or didn’t care about any of that. From what Dax told Garrett about what he’d been able to find out about Josiah’s past, the old man hadn’t been any easier on him. But the kid had watched Dax kill him, and then he had spent eighteen years locked up. He was a kid when he went to prison, and according to the prison psychologist’s notes that Dax had somehow gotten his hands on, Josiah had created a fantasy parent in his head. He’d managed to block out the broken bones that could still be seen on an x-ray. When the psychologist asked him about the knife and burn scars on his back, he’d blamed them on his mother and her “string of men.” If not for the fact that Cody had almost identical scarring on his own back, that might be believable.

Josiah had allowed his hate for Dax, Cody, and the Skulls to fester for all the years he was locked up and he’d come out mean, vengeful, and dangerous. The only way Dax could rest easy and know that his family was safe was if this man was no longer on the planet, and Garrett was okay with that. But Josiah had found a place where Dax and his crew would never be able to take their bikes to get at him, so Garrett had made a promise to Dax that before he took him out, Josiah would know who was behind the bullet. He’d set that up last night and now all he had to do was wait.

He lowered the binoculars and, with some effort, got his big hand into the pocket on the front of the coveralls. The photo he put there was hard from the cold. If he bent it in half, it would probably break. He smiled as he looked at Jessie’s little face. His daughter looked like an angel, and Garrett still marveled at how he could be any part of her. Jessie had just turned four years old. She had blonde hair and big, round brown eyes. Her eyelashes were longer than any Garrett had ever seen and all she had to do was bat them in his direction to get anything she ever wanted. She had the softest skin. Garrett had touched many women, and he loved the feel of a woman’s soft skin against his calloused fingers. But Jessie’s was even softer…it was so new. Everything about her was new, and that was a big reason why he had finally decided she’d be better off without him.

Garrett was home on leave when he met Leanne. She was the cousin of one of his brothers in the Sin City Flames and she was home from college at the same time. Garrett met her at a party at the club and by the end of the night he’d taken her back to his place. They’d spent the rest of the weekend in bed, and in the shower and on his couch and even once up against the wall in the garage where he kept his bike. She was hot, and they both consumed a lot of alcohol that weekend. A few times he remembered using a condom, but a few more times they’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment and they hadn’t.

It was Garrett’s club brother, Leanne’s cousin, who had written to him and told him about the baby. He was in Niger at the time and the letter took months to reach him. By the time he got it, the baby was four months old and Leanne had met someone. By the time Garrett made it home again on leave, Jessie was almost a year old and Leanne was planning a wedding. The man she was marrying wasn’t in the club. He had some professional job and a big house and a nice car. He was well-groomed and educated and articulate and worlds apart from who and what Garrett was. But when Leanne asked Garrett to sign papers giving up his rights to the baby, he had flatly refused. He knew as soon as he saw her that she was his. It was some kind of unspoken bond as soon as his eyes met his daughter’s eyes. They were his eyes, and although everything else about her was her mother, he recognized the same eyes he saw in the mirror every day, looking back at him through his baby. He’d never loved anything or anyone at first sight before, but Jessie’s smile was seared into his soul, the first time she pointed it in his direction. He’d gone to his platoon leader and they’d arranged for a DNA test that proved Garrett was her father.

She was almost two by the time Garrett came home again and they met in court with their lawyers. Garrett was having second thoughts about staying in the little girl’s life until he saw her again. Most kids were afraid of him. He was like Goliath to their David, and he didn’t blame them. But Jessie had seen him that day and once again she’d smiled and stretched out her tiny little arms. Leanne cried when she saw him pick her up, and the man Leanne married had been the one to suggest they call the hearing off and share custody of the baby.

Garrett had to go back for almost another year after that and when he came home again and visited the toddler, things between them were still just as good. The difference was Garrett. He was plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. He refused to take the medication the army gave him. He’d be damned if he’d walk around drooling like a fucking zombie. He self-medicated with weed and alcohol, and sex. His life was an endless party while he was awake and a house of horrors while he slept. The only thing that brought him peace was Jessie. He was selfish enough at first to revel in that and visit her as often as Leanne would let him.

But it had only taken him a few months of visits to realize she had the kind of life he’d never be able to give her. She had a huge room and it seemed to have everything in it that any little girl could ever want or need. He would sit on the floor for hours sometimes while she introduced him to her dolls and stuffed animals and fixed them all tea with a china tea set he was afraid to touch. Or they’d sit in the backyard of the house that looked like a park. It had rolling hills and a play set unlike any Garrett had ever seen. Jessie was always smiling and she talked nonstop to him about her friends at preschool and her mommy and Jake. Jake was her stepfather, the one that worked every day to give her everything she had, everything she wanted, and everything Garrett knew she deserved. It didn’t take him long to realize that the longer he stayed in her life, the more she’d come to know that her real father was the man who tucked her in every night and told her a story…not the funny giant who just came to visit and didn’t have anything of value to offer her.

The day Garrett had that realization was the day he started planning his own death. He would have gone through with it by now, but the letters had taken him weeks to write. He wanted the people he cared about, and most importantly Jessie, to know that leaving them was a necessity, not a choice. He wanted Jessie to know how much he loved her and he needed her to know that the only thing that would ever take him from her was the knowledge that she was going to be so much better off without him. She might forget him eventually, and her mother might choose to not even give her the letter, but his soul wouldn’t have been able to rest if he hadn’t tried to explain it to her. Garrett wasn’t a talker and when he did talk, he wasn’t articulate like Jake. He’d spent hours on spell-checking the letter alone. He didn’t want his little girl to think she’d come from a man without a brain. He wasn’t stupid, but even as a kid, school had not been his thing.

Once he finally finished her letter, he’d written the rest of them, slipped them into envelopes, and was gathering what he needed for his final trip. That was when Dax called and now instead of resting in a box, he was freezing his ass off on the side of a mountain. Thankfully, that would be over soon. He saw movement near the cabin and with one hand, he tucked Jessie’s picture back in his pocket and with the other, he picked up the binoculars.

Garrett focused them on the porch and saw Josiah Miller. He was wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of jeans and boots. He had a coffee mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was leaning up against one of the wooden beams and looking out at the snow that surrounded him. Garrett knew it would take Miller a few minutes to see what he’d left him. He lay down in the snow behind his rifle and put the binoculars down. He sighted his scope, taking his time as Miller continued to nurse his coffee. Garrett’s finger caressed the trigger and watched through the powerful scope as Miller’s eyes grew wide, his face went pale, and the mug slipped from his fingers. The bullet tore through his head before the mug even finished shattering against the wooden porch.

Garrett took his time packing his things up, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, before walking the two miles down to where the cabin was and the dead man lay, to do the same. The first thing he did was take down the picture he’d stolen out of Miller’s things while he was sleeping a few nights before. It was one that he’d had taken of Dax with his gun to some thug’s head. It was black and white and big enough for Miller to see from the porch where he stood each day. Garrett would gather the rest of the pictures once the body was taken care of. He’d take what he found in the cabin to Dax and then he’d go home to Las Vegas…for one last visit before he met Josiah Miller in hell.

Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.

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