Page 1 of Making Choices

PROLOGUE

CARTER

Aged: Nineteen

“He’s in here,” my best friend, Zeke, grumbles in a low voice. “Hasn’t moved since Angelis dropped him off once the fuckin’ cops let him go after the…”

When he trails off rather than say the word that’s liable to ignite my temper, I wrap a hand around the pillow next to me and slam it down over my head to block out his unwanted sympathy. This isn’t the first attempted intervention he’s pulled and it’s unlikely to be the last—not that whatever he has planned this time will work.

I’m a lost cause. Charged with affray after gate crashing a funeral. My face has been splashed over the front page of every newspaper. Even made the nightly bulletin the day it happened. I’ve embarrassed my brotherhood. Brought them to the attention of the Maddison Clan and dragged our club into the spotlight shone by the organised crime taskforce onto the Australian underworld.

My life as I once pictured it is over.

Biding my time, drowning my sorrows in beer and weed, as I work up the courage to notch the barrel of my handgun under my chin, squeeze the trigger, and make this foregone future a reality.

Boom.

One well-placed shot is all it’ll take.

My rage will be defeated.

My guilt will be appeased.

The solution is simple.

Now, I just need them to leave me the fuck alone long enough for me to grow the balls needed to make the ten steps from my bed to the shower cubicle to enact my plan. It’s a shit act to pull. Leaving one of my brothers, or worse my mother or little Cherub, to find my body. Can’t be helped, though. I mightn’t want to sully the clubhouse, but my bedroom is the only place I can close my eyes without seeing her.

Jenna fucking Greatbatch.

Of course, this reprieve is only possible because she refused to come here. She deliberately snubbed my world. Rejected the chance to understand what drove me to join the brotherhood I’ve idolised since I was a small boy. Ignored my pleas for her to see my world for what it is.

Pure freedom.

In truth, the bottom rocker I proudly wear on the cut I discarded two weeks ago in lieu of a black suit was the main cause of our problems.

I wanted her and the club where I’m a prospect.

She wanted me for my dick and the clout bouncing on it brought her around campus.

We were toxic together yet deadly apart…

When the bedroom door slams, I allow myself to sigh with relief.

Zeke can be a pushy motherfucker.

Especially when he’s presented with a problem that no one else can solve.

If he hadn’t already been christened with his road name when he was eight, I would’ve definitely thrown Mr. Fix-it into the mix as an option. Not that it matters now. I’ve missed the lead up to our patching in ceremony. After my life imploded, I checked out of any reality that didn’t involve smoking, drinking, and sucking on a joint—all activities I can safely partake from my bed—so I will no longer be joining my best friends when they patch into the Shamrocks in two days’ time.

I guess, the club is just one more thing Jenna took from me.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I grumble to myself as tentacles of misery wrap themselves around me again. “Fuck me in the eye with a rusty dildo.”

“Ew. Pass.” The softly spoken retort belongs to someone who most definitely shouldn’t be in my room. “Not even sure where I’d get a rusty dildo anyhow… aren’t they rubber?”

When the bed shakes as she climbs onto the mattress next to me, I toss the pillow on the floor, and roll onto my side to face her. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Zeke snuck me in,” little Cherub tells me with a wide grin. She plonks her arse on top of the covers and crosses her legs. Her bright-blue eyes twinkle as she says, “He said you needed someone to talk sense into you…” Trailing off, Cherub wrinkles up her nose then she drops the punchline. “And since we all know I’m the only person remotely equipped for the job, I came straightaway.”

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