Untamed Bad Boys: Gay Series Box Set Read online

  Copyright 2018

  All Rights Reserved.

  Disclaimer: This ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is coincidental.

  No section of this book may be copied or reproduced without the author's permission.

  Table of Contents

  Chase

  Gay Royalty

  Stripped Down

  Merciless

  Defender

  Rise Again

  Broken Down

  Chase

  Copyright 2018

  All Rights Reserved.

  Disclaimer: This ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is coincidental.

  No section of this book may be copied or reproduced without the author's permission.

  Description

  Christopher

  I was on the hunt of a serial killer of women and the trail led me back to my hometown. I didn't mean to fall in love. I was looking for any clues and that brought me to the Eight of Spades Bar.

  Joshua Kent was just like any other biker I'd ever met: trashy, full of himself, and a criminal. We barely talked before he kissed me. But I wasn't that easy.

  And more importantly, I had a case to solve. But Joshua knew this underworld better than I could ever know. I needed his help no matter how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

  Joshua

  Christopher walked into my bar and he wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. He didn't belong here with his nice clothes and entitled attitude. He was a challenge. A mountain to conquer.

  Nothing would stop me. Not even the fact that he was a cop.

  I'd help him find the killer and make Christopher mine in the process.

  Chase

  Chapter One

  Christopher Taylor ran through the hallway of FBI headquarters. He rounded a corner and bumped into another agent. A pile papers flew into the air.

  “Sorry!” Christopher yelled as he ran from the scene, dress shoes clacking on the polished floor. He was late yet again for another meeting with his superiors and nothing was going to stop him.

  Christopher made it to Room 301 and took in a deep breath at the closed door. He brushed his disheveled hair as best he could and opened it.

  Four old men with varying degrees of baldness sat around a round oak table. It reminded him a little of King Arthur and his knights. A mug of coffee sat next to each man. Christopher smelled the brew in the air and wished he had time to go to the break room and get a cup.

  “Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Taylor,” Agent Brand said.

  Christopher didn't even have a good excuse this time. There was no traffic, he didn't oversleep, nor did he lose his car keys. He just lost track of time. It was best not to apologize and just move on.

  He sat down and his chair creaked as he took out paper and pen from his briefcase.

  Agent Brand looked to the other old men and nodded. “We can begin now. I called this meeting this morning to go over the recent murders in Jimstown, Arizona.”

  Christopher perked up. Jimstown is where he grew up.

  Agent Brand continued, “The sheriff over there have sent us all the files and we believe there is an active serial killer there.”

  One of the old men took a sip of coffee. “What's the rundown?”

  “So far we have four murders of women all in their early twenties.” Brand hit the lights and the room went dark.

  Christopher could barely see now as he furiously wrote down notes. The projector in the room flicked onto the white screen.

  A picture of a young woman with short blonde hair popped up. She was clearly dead. The photo most likely taken in the morgue. “First murder was Teresa Cullen on June 25. Student at the community college.”

  Christopher hadn't been to Jimstown in years, ever since he left for Quantico. The community college was being built and had only opened just two years ago.

  Brand put the next photo on the projector. “Second was Jane Warner. Four days later on June 29. Another student at the community college.”

  Agent Brand showed them two more victims. They looked very similar and died only a few days apart.

  Christopher tried to sear their images into his mind. He wrote down their names and circled college on his notepad. Each victim was a student. The next one would likely be the same.

  One of the old men coughed. “How are they being killed?”

  Brand put up another picture on the projector. This was a closeup of the neck of the first victim. A gruesome red slash was painted across her neck. “The killer used a knife to make one single slice across the victim's neck.”

  The projector showed a photo of a long knife with a black hilt sitting on the pavement with a ruler next to it to indicate its size. “A knife was left at every crime scene. No prints or DNA evidence was left behind.”

  Christopher put his pen up and Brand stopped talking. “Were the knives left at the scenes all the same type?”

  Agent Brand nodded and showed pictures of the knives from each crime scene. “Our experts tell me this is a fairly common knife that could be found at any pawn shop.”

  “Any evidence of sexual contact?” another agent asked.

  Brand shook his head. “None that the local police were able to find. The motive is still unknown.”

  Christopher's notepad filled up quickly with scribbles all over his paper.

  Brand turned to Christopher. “Since you have ties to that town, we'd like you to head the investigation with the local police.”

  Christopher was speechless. He'd never headed an investigation before. He knew they weren't picking him for his talent though. They needed someone who knew the area. And someone who would follow protocol.

  Brand interrupted his train of thought. “Christopher, will you take the job?”

  He blinked once and realized he'd been staring off into space. “Yes, of course I'll take the position.”

  Brand flicked off the projector and turned on the lights. He passed a file folder across the table. “Everything you need to know about the case is in that. Along with a flight to Arizona. Any questions?”

  Christopher opened up the file and saw the same photos of the victims. There was also a plane ticket for tomorrow morning. The FBI wasn't known for being patient.

  “I think I got everything.”

  “Good. Let us know if you need any help when you get there. Agent Vargus is here if you need backup.”

  Christopher cringed at the name. Vargus had been in his graduating class at Quantico and used every chance to hit on him. He was a complete tool. It would take a lot for Christopher to have to ask for his help.

  “Don't worry, sir. I'll find this killer.”

  Brand clasped his hand. “Good luck out there.”

  The rest of the old men stood up as Christopher left the office. He couldn't help but smile.

  He was finally moving up to the big leagues.

  But there was a knot in his stomach. He'd have to solve these crimes all by himself.

  And Christopher didn't know if he was ready for that.

  Chapter Two

  Joshua Kent sat at a large table made from reclaimed wood. The members of the Dog Soldiers MC sat around discussing the current events that were affecting the club.

  “And what are we going to do about the guns with the Devil Hearts MC?” Cameron Danver, the treasurer asked.

  Cameron was the brains of the operation. He'd been with the MC for ten years now, working the books, making sure that the club had enough money to operate. Every member understood that without Cameron, the Dog Soldiers wouldn't even exist.

  “Fuck
those Irish bastards. We shouldn't even be talking to them, let alone selling them weapons just so they could kill us later,” Joshua said.

  Flash York put his hands up to settle the table down. He was the president of the Dog Soldiers and had been for fifteen years, making him the oldest member. “I know the Irish MC aren't exactly our allies. But let us not forget that we're sitting on crates and crates of unsold guns. The Mexicans don't want them. The other chapters don't want them either.”

  Cameron nodded. “He's right. Our money is extremely tight right now. If we can unload the guns, that would greatly help the club.”

  Gunner Vallen, the vice president, leaned forward in his seat. “This club is going to need more than just money. We are in need of new members. We lost our sgt-at-arms last year and Wilder is going to be in prison for God knows how long.”

  The entire table looked down to the end at the new prospect, Jett Rockwell. He was the only one in the last few years who had taken an interest in joining.

  “I call for a vote on selling guns to the Devil Hearts MC,” Flash began, “All in favor?”

  Gunner said, “Aye.”

  Cameron echoed the same.

  They all looked at Joshua. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it on the table. He wanted nothing to do with the Irish. But he couldn't go against the club. “Aye,” he said.

  Flash ignored the prospect who didn't have voting rights yet. “I vote the same.” He banged the wooden gavel onto the table. “It's settled then. I'll reach out to Aiden at the Devil Hearts and set up a deal.”

  Joshua exhaled sharply. He knew that this could go very wrong. The Devil Hearts couldn't be trusted. They had been hated enemies for years.

  But he was only a member. It would've done nothing to vote against the group.

  “We have some other matters to attend now,” Flash said, looking to Gunner.

  Gunner had a big smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed from a little too much booze too early in the morning. Gunner had a problem but nobody wanted to admit it. Least of all Gunner. “We've been in need of a sgt-in-arms and I think we can all agree that we found our next one.”

  Flash threw something across the table at Joshua. He picked it up and flipped it over to see the sgt-at-arms patch.

  “Are you bullshitting me?” Joshua asked.

  “We wouldn't bullshit about this,” Flash replied. He took a long hunting knife out of his belt. The silver blade was attached to a worn black hilt. “The Dog Soldiers MC are promoting you to sgt-at arms.” He opened his palm and sliced the knife across the skin, leaving a trail of red. Blood trickled down onto the wood table as he closed his fist and squeezed.

  As the vice president, Gunner was next. “Congratulations, Joshua.” He quickly sliced his hand and let the blood flow.

  Cameron did the same before handing over the knife to Joshua. He held the blade in his hand remembering the last time he cut himself for the club.

  It was the best day of his life. Joshua had been a prospect for the Dog Soldiers for two years when they finally patched him in. He almost cried at the table as the ritual blood sacrifice began. He gladly cut himself and let his blood join the club.

  Now he was just as happy as he was that day. But he knew he had a ton more responsibility now. He nodded to the other members and cut himself. Joshua watched as the red dripped from his wound and joined with the others.

  Flash smiled. “Let's welcome our new sgt-at-arms.”

  Chapter Three

  Christopher landed at Phoenix International Airport with just a backpack filled with a change of clothes. He only needed the outfit he was wearing; black pants and a black suit jacket, the chosen uniform of male agents.

  A taxi picked him up outside.

  “Where are you headed?” the driver asked. The cab smelled like cigarettes and takeout food.

  “Jimstown,” Christopher replied.

  The cab driver turned back to Christopher and took his sunglasses off. “You sure?”

  He laughed. “Yep. Jimstown.”

  “Sorry. It's just I don't get many fares that want to go there.”

  Christopher spent the drive in silence. His parents could've picked him up at the airport but he hadn't told them he was coming home yet. He thought about it but couldn't get himself to pick up the phone.

  He actually thought that he might stay at hotel. He hadn't talked to his parents in a few months. Christopher hung up on his mother the last time they spoke. His mother wanted Christopher to come home for Christmas but he was too busy on a case. He understood how his mom felt but there was nothing to do about it. Some things were said by both parties that they probably wished they could take back.

  Christopher wouldn't be able to keep his appearance in Jimstown a secret. Word would get around to his parents and that would only make things worse.

  The cab pulled up to an old Victorian-style house. Tall slanted roof with long windows on both levels. A large white porch wrapped around the entire house. Christopher had a lot of memories attached to this place. Some good and some bad.

  Christopher paid the cabbie and he grunted a thank you. Christopher stood on the sidewalk, unable to move. “Come on, Christopher. It won't be that bad,” he told himself.

  He forced his way to the front door and knocked. Footsteps coming down stairs could be heard. The door opened and Christopher's mother stood there with her mouth open.

  “Christopher? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

  “Hi Mom. Everything is all right. I'm in town for work and I was wondering if I could stay here.”

  Lindsay Taylor smiled, wrinkles showing below her eyes. “What a surprise! Come in. Come in.”

  Christopher walked past her into the entryway and Lindsay closed the door behind them. Everything looked exactly how he remembered it. The wood floors, the chandelier hanging from above, the side table against the stairs that held the phone.

  “The house looks great, Mom.”

  Lindsay led the way into the kitchen. Nothing had changed. The white-tiled island, the wood cabinets, and the appliances were all from the early 90's. “It's been a long time since you've been back home, Christopher.”

  He knew that it wouldn't take long for his mom to bring that up. “I know. Work has kept me pretty busy.”

  Lindsay opened the fridge and brought out a pitcher of yellow lemonade. She didn't even bother asking Christopher if he wanted any. She just poured two glasses and handed one to heim “Work. Work. Work. Don't you do anything else?”

  Christopher took a sip and remembered the summers drinking lemonade in the backyard. “I like what I do, Mom. I don't need anything else.”

  “What are you working on now?”

  Christopher knew this was a minefield. Not that he couldn't talk about it but more like he didn't want to talk about it. Last time they talked about his work, Christopher's mom tried to convince him that his job was bad for him.

  “There's been a string of murders at the community colleges that I've been brought in to investigate.”

  “The news of that has been spreading around. It's just terrible what's been done to those young girls. I can't fathom a man or woman could do that to another human being.”

  Christopher had seen it all too much. Humanity was capable of doing anything. “Do you know any information that might help me?”

  He knew the minute it came out of his mouth that it was going to be taken the wrong way.

  Lindsay put down her glass and scoffed. “Do you think I associate with murders and rapists?”

  “Of course not, Mom. I was just hoping you had maybe heard something.”

  “How long do you need to stay here?”

  That was it. It didn't take long for Christopher to overstay his welcome. “I'm not sure. As long as the investigation lasts. But if you don't want me to stay, I could go to a hotel.”

  “Hogwash! I won't have it going around town that my own son is staying at a hotel. You can stay in your old room. It's
just the way you left it.”

  “Where's Dad?”

  “On another of his business trips. Said he was going to be gone a few days.”

  Christopher grew up believing that his father really was going away on business. He realized it when he got older that his father was taking little vacations to get away from his mom.

  “Where did he go off to this time?”

  Lindsay left Christopher alone in the kitchen to drink his lemonade. He knew that it was going to be tough coming back home and He was completely right.

  Christopher lugged his backpack up the steep stairs and went into the first door on the right. His mom wasn't kidding. The room hadn't been touched since he left. A movie poster of Silence of the Lambs still hung above his bed. It was the one movie that made him feel like he could make a difference. It was the movie that inspired him to join the FBI.

  And now he was on the hunt for his own serial killer.

  Chapter Four

  Christopher crouched down in the hot sun and examined the pavement. A dark blood stain was the only thing left of Felicity Glen.

  He looked up at the large community college standing before him. The whole place had been built after se had left Jimstown. The town wasn't as small as he remembered. Students ran by, almost knocking Christopher over.

  The file told Christopher that the time of death was estimated around 8:30 pm. “What was she doing here so late?”

  The young cop didn't know if Christopher was talking to him or was asking a rhetorical question. Christopher looked up at him and Randall Hillsby knew he needed to answer back. “I'm not sure,” he replied with a shrug.

  Randall was a fresh face on the police force. Barely out of the academy and the station pairs him up with an FBI agent on a big-time case.

  Christopher knew what was really going on here. The local cops wanted to solve this case on their own. The only help Christopher was going to get was from a rookie cop who was barely wet behind the ears.