The Pope

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Jade Marshall

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0239-1

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To the boy who made my first kiss memorable

  To the young man who made my first love something that I will never regret

  To the man who won my heart and completes me every day

  143TDDUP

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I have so many people that I want to thank. First off Stacey, Audrey, and all the other Evernight Publishing staff members. Without you all, none of this would have been possible. My husband for having a ton of patience and supporting my dream. My daughter, for encouraging me when I feel like quitting.

  My lovely beta readers Surita van der Merwe, Jessica Kuhn, and Celia Moolman. I love your feedback and enthusiasm. You make even my darkest days brighter. To Mr and Mrs van Zyl, for enjoying my work so thoroughly and pimping me out to all of your friends. Even if you did call me graphic…

  To Angie C Cody, Madhuri Palaji, and all the other lovely reviewers for taking a chance on a new author. Thank you to each person that purchased a copy of my first novel, and a special thank you to anyone who left a review. Each person brightened my day and gave me insight into what they would like to see going forward.

  Lastly, to each and every friend, new and old, for your tremendous support. I love giving my stories to you.

  Enjoy.

  LHR

  Jade

  THE POPE

  Gypsy Bastards MC, 2

  Jade Marshall

  Copyright © 2020

  Prologue

  Storm

  Growing up in foster care, I have very few memories I can look back at and remember fondly. Except for Colin and Faye. The one constant through my youth was them. Living in the house beside theirs, my older sister, Winter, and I would often end up at their house. Faye, Colin’s mom, took us under her wing and treated us like the daughters she never had. Everything I know about being a woman, from boiling an egg to how babies are made, and even how my menstrual cycle works, I was taught by Faye.

  Winter and Colin, being five years older than me, quickly fell into a fledgling relationship and were inseparable. I spent a lot of time playing the third wheel or reading. But things change as you grow and by my thirteenth birthday, I realized I was in love with Colin. The problem with being in love with your sister’s boyfriend is the accompanying guilt. I started avoiding both of them, hiding in my room when it was possible and trying to make friends of my own. Being on my own for the first time was exhilarating, and I made many, many mistakes along the way. Let it be known far and wide that I can own up to my mistakes.

  Mistake one: Falling for my sister’s guy.

  Mistake two: Making friends of my own.

  Even at the tender age of thirteen, I got into more trouble than most people do in a lifetime. From things like petty theft and smoking weed to getting arrested for breaking and entering and getting blackout drunk. My youth was spent in a drug and alcohol-induced stupor, running from my own emotions. The consequences reverberate through me to this day.

  At sixteen, I left the only home and family I’d ever known after finally declaring my love for Colin and being gently rejected. In the last ten years, I have not seen nor spoken to my sister. I spent months living on the street and struggling to survive, and even after all this time, I still love Colin.

  The only difference is now we call him Pope.

  Chapter One

  Storm

  “Who do you think of when you masturbate?”

  I turn my head so quickly in my friend Hadley’s direction I can feel my vertebrae crack. We are sitting outside the Gypsy Bastards clubhouse in the early-morning sunshine, at one of the picnic tables beneath an oak tree, enjoying the last remnants of summer. On my rare days off, I try to spend as much time with my best friend as possible, but at this moment, I seriously have to question my judgment.

  She truly is a beautiful woman and has only become more so during the progression of her pregnancy. It’s like her blonde hair shines and her blue eyes sparkle more the further she gets along. Although she looks super-cute in the baby-pink maternity dress she’s wearing today, her stomach is huge. Across from me, she rests her left hand on her swollen stomach while the other holds a bar of chocolate.

  “Jesus, Hadley. What kind of question is that?” I ask.

  She furrows her brow at me before taking a bite of her chocolate. After swallowing, she sighs before returning her attention to me.

  “When I was single, I used to think about me when I flicked the bean. What the hands touching me made me feel, or the mouth on my body would feel like for me. Me and a nameless, faceless person. But now that I have Wolf in my life, I think about him, words he would say, his voice in my ear, stuff like that. I was just wondering if it was the same for other women. I’m not friends with anyone besides you, Kaiya, and Luna, so I picked you to ask. So, who do you think about?”

  My mouth hangs open at her explanation. Since Hadley and Wolf have fallen sickeningly in love and she became pregnant, every thought in her mind seems to pop out of her mouth.

  But to be honest, the moment she asked the question, I knew the answer. Red hair, green eyes, and an Irish lilt run through my mind on a constant loop. Colin. Pope.

  Fucking president to the Gypsy Bastards MC and the only man to ever hold my heart. He is also the only man to ever break my heart. Fucking Pope.

  Looking back at Hadley, I find she’s still waiting patiently for my answer.

  “Okay. Because you’re pregnant, I’m going to humor you, but don’t make a habit of asking me sexual shit. I don’t need to know the details of your sex life with Wolf.” Waiting, I stare directly at her until she nods her head in acceptance.

  “Mostly, hot famous guys. Maybe a musician or even just some hot guy I see when getting coffee or something. It differs from time to time, depending on my mood.”

  “So none of the guys around here?” She arches her eyebrow at me.

  “What do you want from me, Hadley? You know the guys are all gorgeous, but there is nothing that could persuade me to get together with any of them.”

  The lie flows from my lips without much effort. What I feel for Pope is in the past and he already broke my heart once. I won’t create an opportunity for it to happen again.

  “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. But let me tell you, anyone with eyes can see that the two of you want each other.”

  My forehead creases as I glare at her. Hadley lifts her hands in a gesture of surrender before she bursts out laughing.

  “Okay, let’s talk about something else. Have you picked a name for the baby yet?”

  “Well, since we found it it’s a girl, it made it somewhat easier to decide on a name.” She smiles as she rubs her hand over her swollen stomach.

  “So? The suspense is killing me here.”

  “Ainsley. Our daughter’s name will be Ainsley.” Hadley’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears which in turn causes me to tear up with her.

  “It’s beautiful, Hadley.”

  “Thanks.” Abruptly, she rises from her spot before moving toward the clubhouse. After a few steps, she looks back over her shoul
der. “Are you coming? I’m craving some pancakes.”

  Nodding, I rise and follow her inside.

  Chapter Two

  Pope

  Having coffee at the kitchen table in the clubhouse, I watch as Storm and Hadley start whipping up a batch of pancakes. Delicious aromas waft around the kitchen and infuse the clubhouse with a feeling of home. It might not be that for many people, but to me, the Gypsy Bastard clubhouse is home. A long time ago, just after we bought the property and the building, I had a contractor come and renovate the upper floor, creating rooms and a communal bathroom for the guys. But I had the loft renovated into more of an apartment space for myself. The guys and club ass refer to it as the president’s quarters and no one is allowed in my space, I don’t even fuck women up there. I sank every cent I had into this place and I haven’t regretted it one single day.

  In front of me, I watch the women cook. The last space we renovated, and this was only last year, was the kitchen. All new cupboards, counters, and even new appliances and crockery. One of the guys who used to hang around the club was a carpenter, so we got everything at a steal.

  Laughter tinkles from Storm and even though I try my hardest not to, my gaze travels to her. I wonder what Beast said to elicit that sound from her. Standing there, her black hair with purple streaks, her almond eyes sparkling with mirth, her hand lands on his chest as she continues to laugh at whatever he said. My gaze is glued to her hand as my jealousy spikes. Shaking my head, I look back toward the newspaper I was reading. Beast has no interest in Storm and even if he did, I couldn’t do a thing about it.

  I gave up my opportunity to do that years ago.

  A stack of blueberry pancakes is placed in front of me. Looking up, I smile at Storm.

  “Thanks, sweets.”

  She winks at me before she turns and walks away. My gaze is instantly locked on the curve of her ass and the way her hips sway as she walks back toward Hadley. My thoughts drift and I find myself fantasizing about grabbing her by the ass and lifting her into the air.

  “Pope?”

  Storm stares at me from the other side of the table.

  “Shit, sorry. I have a lot on my mind. What were you saying?” I need to get my mind out of the gutter and focus on the conversations around me.

  “I want to know if Hadley and I can borrow Justice for a while. We want to get the crib I bought and set it up at Wolf’s house, but we need someone to carry it up the stairs. Probably won’t be more than an hour.”

  I look toward Wolf, who nods his agreement. Even though he was overly jealous of the friendship between Hadley and Justice in the beginning, he soon figured out they are more like siblings and constantly give each other hell. It helps that Justice would probably die to protect the woman who belongs to my sergeant at arms.

  “Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. Wolf has to get down to the shop to see a new customer and Sparrow is on his way to Dusk. Everyone else is busy and I have a meeting, so use the prospect for whatever you need, but have him back by noon. He needs to clean out and stock the bar before the party tonight.”

  Dusk is the strip club where Storm works. The Gypsy Bastards also owns a percentage of it and Sparrow does the books. Wolf owns a legitimate business doing custom work on motorcycles, of which the club also owns a percentage and recently, the club helped Hadley start her tattoo parlor, which means we get a cut from that as well.

  Storm nods at me and then rises to rinse her plate and load the dishwasher before walking out of the room to presumably talk to Justice about their plans. Everyone around me continues to talk and finish their meal before heading out.

  ****

  My meeting with McLaughlin goes well. They are completely satisfied with the last shipment of AR15s they received. Throughout the years, we have built up quite the name for ourselves. Although we try as a club to keep most of our businesses legitimate—the strip club, custom bike shop, and tattoo shop—we weren’t making enough money. An opportunity presented itself to us and we jumped at the chance. We now run guns across the border for the Mexican cartel and have quite the network of people—not always good people—who are very happy to buy their hardware from us. From the Italian mafia to the Irish mob, we sell indiscriminately as long as the cash is right, and McLaughlin and the Irish mob have the right money.

  Riding down the freeway from my meeting, I head toward Wolf and Hadley’s place, hoping to spend some time around Storm. Although I pushed her away years ago out of a sense of loyalty to her sister Winter, it has become one of the greatest regrets of my life. I constantly keep her at arm’s length because I don’t want to hurt her again. The last time almost killed her and if I let her in, this time might kill me.

  Storm ran away from home, ran away from me, and from the little she has told me about that time, I know it wasn’t good. She lived on the street for a while and even though I don’t know all the details, I do know something bad happened. Something bad enough that she has taken self-defense classes for years to ensure she’s never in that position again.

  And then there are the drugs. When she first came back into my life, it was with less of a strut and more of a stumble. She was hooked on heroin and in a bad place when I saw her at Dusk. Luckily, with some help from Doc, she went through rehab and detox and has been clean for about four years. Thinking back on those dark days breaks my heart, knowing what she went through. Fearing she may relapse and end up killing herself this time keeps me from baring my feelings to her.

  That doesn’t stop me from wanting her, though, and the longer she’s around, the more my feelings for her grow. I thought about going up to Kilkenny in Ireland to visit my mom for a while and get my head back on straight, but with everything going on, there isn’t a chance for me to get away. Instead, I sulk around and keep a watch on her, trying to remain sane. There’s no way to explain the pain in my chest when other men look at her or she gives one of my brothers attention. The hardest part is going to Dusk and watching her dance. Don’t get me wrong, she is a goddamned goddess on stage, but every time, I just want to jump up on stage and carry her away from all the other gazes locked on her body.

  Deep in thought, I almost miss my turn and have to correct quickly. The car behind me honks loudly but I don’t have an opportunity to change course before I feel the car clip my rear wheel. An image of Storm smiling flashes in my mind as my Harley swerves but at the last second, I regain control and keep her upright. My adrenaline spikes and I thank all that is holy that I didn’t wreck. For the rest of the drive, my attention is focused on getting there safely.

  A near-death experience is exactly what I needed to get my ass in gear. No more running. No more pushing her away. It’s time to claim the woman I have always wanted but have been too afraid to go after.

  Parking my Harley beside the curb, I wave back at a blond-haired kid down the street. The suburbs make me itch and feel out of my depth, and I very rarely come here, but this where Storm is and I need to see her right now. Reaffirm that I’m still alive and start the long road to fixing everything I’ve fucked up between us. Striding with purpose, I push open the front door without knocking and move through the house, entering the kitchen just in time to watch Storm crumble to the floor.

  Chapter Three

  Storm

  You always think there will be time. Time to apologize, to make things right, or to say sorry. But that isn’t always the truth. Sometimes, your time runs out before you are ready. And you lose the chance to fix things.

  My phone clatters to the floor as Hadley screams, but she sounds so far away. Like my head is underwater and I can’t hear properly. Hands cup my face and tilt it up to look into bright-green eyes. The concern is etched on Pope’s face.

  How did I end up on the floor? Where is my phone? And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. My sister is dead.

  My sister died.

  My sister, who I haven’t spoken to in ten years, the only family I had, has left me alone in this world.

  My body
is no longer under my control as a gut-wrenching, soul-shattering scream is torn free from my lungs and tears stream down my face. My body is wracked with tremors as I sob uncontrollably. Panic consumes me and although I can hear Pope speaking to me, there is no way to hear him above the shattering of my own heart or the unstoppable sobbing. My chest feels like an anvil is pressing down on it and I can’t seem to catch my breath. As the world goes dark around me, I see the panic clearly in Pope’s eyes and it breaks my heart just a little bit more.

  ****

  I wake up with a start and bolt upright. Looking around, I’m unable to recognize the room or bed I am in. The walls are painted a dove gray and the bedding is the same color. Color accents in differing shades of red are scattered around the room. Rising from the bed, I look around. In the corner is a burgundy reading chair and a bookshelf most people would be jealous of, stacked with all the greatest horror and thriller writers. Black curtains hide a window from view but as I draw them back, I can see the parking lot for the Gypsy Bastard compound.

  In the back of my mind, a thought niggles, something important, something I need to remember. Yet, every time I try to grab on to the thought, my mind pushes it away, trying to protect me from something I instinctively know will be painful. Instead of trying harder to remember, I leave the room. As I walk into the lounge area, I know exactly where I am. The presidential quarters, where no woman or man, besides Pope, is ever allowed. Turning in a circle, I take in my surrounding with a new perspective.

  As I turn again, a blown-up photo catches my eye. In the middle of the living room wall, where any other man would usually have a big-ass flat-screen TV, Pope has a blown-up canvas of a photo I took on a run. All the guys are together, some of the wives and girlfriends as well, having a beer. Tears prick my eyes as I stare at it, remembering what a great day that was.