Beard in Hiding
A Winston Brothers Story, by Penny Reid
This book is meant to be a companion novel to the Winston Brothers and Solving for Pie series and is not a standalone.
Where this book fits The *start* of this book takes place immediately after the action of ‘Beard Science’ and ‘Beard In Mind,’ but a few weeks before ‘Engagement and Espionage,’ and one year (plus a few months) prior to ‘Marriage and Murder.’
I do not suggest reading this book unless you’ve read a significant number of the Winston Brothers books and ‘Marriage and Murder’ first. This book contains serious spoilers for ‘Marriage and Murder.’ Also, you might be a little lost by the number of characters, who they are, and how they’re relevant to the story.
Warnings This book contains: divorce, discussions of violence and drugs, criminal behavior, portrayal of death / murder, discussions of domestic (mental) abuse, discussions of violence against women and men.
Since this book is very much a romantic comedy and these issues aren’t necessarily par for the course in the genre, I wanted to spell out which subjects might be difficult for readers. Had this been a murder mystery or a thriller (as examples) the potential triggers wouldn’t have been called out. Additionally, as the hero of this book is a rough guy, expect LOTS of non-ironic swearing, crude language, and “f-bomb” usage.
The Characters I never, not in a thousand years, thought I’d write a book for Diane Donner and Jason (Repo) Doe. But in the fall of 2020, while I wrote ‘Marriage and Murder,’ Diane Donner would not be silenced. She wanted to be heard. She demanded it. She wouldn’t let me sleep and she’d hijack the book I was supposed to be writing to let her wishes be known.
I wrote a first draft of this book very quicky (just to get her off my back). I thought about not publishing it, because who in their right mind would want to know about these weirdos with dubious standards and morals? Well, I guess I do. I thought perhaps some of you fine people would as well.
Chapter One
*Jason*
“The finest of pleasures are always the unexpected ones.”
Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus
“You drinking?”
I gave Burro a short nod and didn’t bother to remove my jacket; I wasn’t staying. “The usual.”
He didn’t move. When I glanced up, I found the bartender studying me. “What’s the news? Are Romeo’s boys finally going to cooperate? Did Christine get to Beau?”
I peeled off my leather gloves and stuffed them into my pocket, then reached for a napkin. “None of your business.”
“So, that’s a no.” Finally, he reached for the whiskey bottle reserved for me and filled a tumbler. He then grabbed a different bottle—his preferred brand of gin reserved for him—and filled a shot glass, clinking the two together before handing mine over. “Merry Christmas. Looks like things are about to get tight around here.”
“No,” I ground out. “We’ve known for a while Beau was a long shot. We have other leads.” Beau Winston had turned Christine down weeks ago. This was old news.
Burro tossed back his drink. “All the same, Merry Christmas.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Yep. Christmas Eve today.” He filled his shot glass again and tucked the gin back under the counter. “Twenty-fourth of December. Comes around once a year.”
A ruckus sounded near the entrance followed by a hush. I ignored it. I’d noticed upon walking in that the bar seemed more crowded than usual for 5:00 PM, even for a Saturday. For whatever reason, the younger guys gathered in droves on holidays, preferring the Dragon to The Plank or one of the strip clubs. Christmas in particular was a hard time for recruits who came from families with traditions.
I hadn’t come from a family. I had no traditions. Holidays were just another day. But with so many boys crowded in the room seeking festivities, it’d be a good day to catch up on paperwork.
Stepping back from the bar, intent on vacating the main room before more Wraiths wandered in, I grabbed my drink and pointed at the whiskey bottle still out on the bar top. “Hide that. Don’t let Wolf see it out. He’ll drink the whole thing.”
Again, Burro didn’t move. His eyes, which had grown wide and round, appeared to be preoccupied by something behind me. Oh well. I had another bottle in my room. Time to go.
Banks were closed on Christmas and the Monday after. If I sent my emails tonight, I couldn’t expect any answers until Tuesday. But at least it would be—
“It’s you.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the feminine voice, found a hot blonde pointing an expectant look directly at my face, and then did a double take.
What the—?
The last person, the very last person I’d ever expect to be standing inside the Dragon Biker Bar, watching me like she knew me—or was looking for me?—was Diane Donner Sylvester, local businesswoman, socialite, and church-going glitterati.
What. The. Hell?
Her lips curved in a small smile, and she waited, watching, looking up at me like we knew each other. For the record, we did not know each other. Everyone knew who she was, sure. She was basically famous in these parts. It was impossible to not know who Diane Donner Sylvester—wait, no. Just Donner. She’s divorced, or is about to be.
Eventually, because Diane Donner didn’t disappear after several seconds of my confused staring, I said, “It’s me,” like a fool.
The woman blinked, rocked back on her heels, then looked at the floor. A moment later, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin, jaw set, eyes forward. I watched in complete disbelief as Diane Donner pulled off her jacket, revealing an outfit more commonly seen on teenagers going through a rebellious phase than on a pillar of polite society and mother of two adult children.
Hanging the coat and a little purse on the back of the stool nearest to me, she smiled at Burro. “Good evening. What do you serve?”
“Whatever you want, lady,” he said, openly gawking.
So was I.
I made no attempt to hide my shock. Meanwhile, a different kind of shock, one of profound interest, headed south. I stiffened, sobered by the stab of visceral attraction. Frowning, I searched the room, just to be sure she wasn’t a figment of my imagination, and this wasn’t some joke. But no. Most eyes were on her. Well, technically, most eyes were on her body and most everyone seemed just as stunned as me by her sudden presence.
Her sweet but firm voice said, “Let me think on it for a minute.”
“Take your time,” came Burro’s reply. “I got all night.”
I inhaled a deep breath, returning my attention to her, not quite sure what to make of the woman being here, at the Dragon Biker Bar. She was the implicit sovereign of Green Valley and top of the food chain, apparently out for a night with the bottom feeders. And—wait. Is that a . . . mini skirt? That’s a mini skirt.
Stifling a groan by gritting my teeth, I tore my attention away. In my bewilderment, I rubbed my eyes, but then abruptly stopped. This moment was akin to a dream I’d had too often, but we’d never been here, and she’d never been dressed . . . like that.