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  Addison Jane

  Illusive

  The Exiled Eight MC Book Two

  Addison Jane

  Copyright 2021 Addison Jane

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations, or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences ages 18 and older.

  Note: Defiance MC (Hurricane, Grudge and Cole) are characters from the novels in the NOLA Defiance MC and are used with permission and copyright to K E Osborn for publication in 2022.

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Book Design by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover Model by Darrin James

  Photography by Reggie Deanching

  Cover Design by Natasha Snow Designs

  Cover Image Copyright 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  I’d spent most of my life running.

  My past right on my heels.

  But when you take down society’s most dark and twisted elite,

  there isn’t a place on earth you can hide.

  I’d shattered their secrets, and they wanted revenge.

  Only, to get to me, they would have to go through him.

  Huntsman wasn’t just the president of The Exiled Eight MC.

  He was dangerous.

  He was arrogant.

  And he was pure alpha.

  Yet, I’d never felt safer than I did in his arms.

  He was willing to kill for me.

  And they were coming to take my life.

  Only one of us was going to come out of this alive.

  This one is for all of us because 2021 sucked, and we deserve this.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect With Me Online

  About the Author

  ZOEY/Angie

  “Asshole,” I cursed, wiping at the foggy mirror and leaning in close to get a good look at the fresh bruise highlighting my cheekbone. “Dammit!” I’d have to try and hide the mark before Lisa got a glimpse of it. She didn’t take lightly to the men putting their hands on us because then she knew we didn’t make them happy. And unhappy customers aren’t good for business.

  Making quick work of adding another layer of foundation to my face, I swiped extra blush strategically across my cheeks to give me what Lisa liked to call that innocent glow. The heat of the shower washed away some of the shame and disgust that tainted my skin, but it was never going to remove that crawling sensation that had buried itself deep inside.

  A feeling I was fairly sure was permanent.

  The party was still pumping by the time I got back downstairs. I wasted no time, quickly snatching a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by.

  Liquid courage.

  Something to numb my choices.

  Something to wipe my memories.

  The young server didn’t even look twice. He’d been paid not to, even though I was acutely aware of the fact I didn’t look anywhere close to being twenty-one.

  I wouldn’t be here if I did.

  That wasn’t what these men were looking for.

  Eyes skimmed my body as I moved. I swore I could feel them reaching for me, their hands tearing at my clothes, the feel of their breath against my neck. Goddammit. My self-control managed to curb the disgusted shudder I could feel tickling at the base of my spine, but not the nausea that had already begun to stir inside my stomach.

  “Jesus,” I cursed, lifting the alcohol to my lips, desperate for some kind of escape.

  “No drinking, you know the rules.”

  I stilled, my face sinking as the glass was plucked from my grasp before I could even take a single mouthful. Lisa’s taloned fingers wrapped around the tall flute, her long nails clinking against the glass.

  “You’re underage,” she scolded, her nose flaring.

  “Right! Underage,” I repeated, spitting out a sharp laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I am not,” she growled and pressed the glass to her lips, taking a dainty sip just at the edge. Everything she did had to be elegant, high class, from the way she drank to her sleek ink-black hair cut into a sharp, sophisticated bob. Her eyes scanned the room constantly, aware of everything that was going on, mentally matching men with the generous array of teenage girls scattered throughout the room. Her eyes finally fell back to me, disappointment clearly evident. “You think stumbling around with a glass of alcohol in your hand is going to make these men want to get anywhere near you?”

  “All the more reason,” I quipped, my lip curling.

  “Angie…”

  “Too young to drink, but just the right age to be fucked by perverts. Got ya.” The low murmur was meant to be under my breath, but like always, I underestimated Lisa Eyler and her ability to see, hear, and smell defiance.

  And also her innate ability to tear it from you.

  Her perfectly crafted persona didn’t falter for a second. The typical warm, welcoming smile plastered across her face as she hooked her arm through mine directed me through the crowd.

  Throngs of A-list celebrities, CEOs, and court judges mixed and mingled like any high-profile event you would expect in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

  It was everything you’d assume from this type of event.

  Million-dollar homes, wealthy residents, expensive parties.

  Oh, and teenage girls being paraded in front of rich, untouchable men and sold like fucking cattle.

  Invitation only, of course.

  Lisa’s nails pinched at my skin with enough pressure to make my knees weak and a slight
whimper escaped from my throat. “Lisa,” I hissed, a painful crack in my voice that could have easily been mistaken for pleading.

  She didn’t respond, not until we reached the double doors at the end of the hall. One hard shove and I went flying through them, stumbling, fighting to catch myself but failing. My hip hit the floor first, the carpet burning at my palms as I reached out to try and brace myself.

  “Get up.”

  Fighting the aches and pains resonating through my body, I tried to ignore them for just a second while I found my feet. I may have spent the past couple of years being beaten, broken, and used, but I hadn’t been defeated.

  Not fucking yet.

  “Go to hell,” I snapped through clenched teeth, blood dripping down my arm from where her nails had pierced my skin. I stood tall, meeting the hellfire gaze of the woman I’d once seen as a person I thought I could aspire to.

  This kick-ass bitch, holding her own in a world full of men.

  The kind of men who looked down on women, not seeing them as equals.

  Though what I hadn’t realized when I’d first met her was her hold over these men wasn’t because they looked up to her, and it wasn’t because they respected her or the millions of dollars she had worked hard for.

  No.

  This world didn’t run on respect.

  It was fueled by fear.

  And Lisa Eyler had every single one of these men by the damn balls.

  Especially one in particular.

  The only person in this hell hole who rivaled that of Lisa when it came to arrogance and narcissistic behavior—her husband, Steven. His slicked-back dark hair was always shiny and rock hard with half a tub of hair gel pushed through it.

  To the press, Steven and Lisa were a power couple.

  They’d both attended Stonewall University—one of the most prestigious in the country for turning out influential people from politicians and CEOs to leading sports stars. They’d been in the news, in documentaries, Forbes and Time. Every article names them as one of the most wealthy and influential couples of today. Steven came from old money—rich grandparents who made smart investments in their family’s futures.

  That’s where people think they made their millions.

  That’s where they’d be wrong.

  Lisa was seen more like a woman who worked her way to the top, though no one could really pinpoint how. But the only reason she got to the top was because of Steven, his family, his money, and his connections, and he was happy to let her play that role. Happy to watch on as she cracked the whip, while he simply sat back like this adoring husband and watched on.

  People saw her as an independent, powerful woman, believing she was the one who wore the pants in the relationship.

  And that’s exactly what she wanted the world to think.

  More importantly that’s exactly what she wanted to think.

  It was clear, though, to anyone who was inside the bolted gates that Lisa would have done anything to please that man. She loved him, almost in a crazy obsessive kind of way. He hardly attended the parties she ran, and I’m still not sure why, but she would go straight to him when they ended. She needed him to make her feel good given that during these parties, not a single man who attended wanted her.

  She wasn’t a part of the fetish they desired, and there were moments you could see the jealousy reach its fever pitch in her eyes.

  Steven was her love.

  She was completely and utterly loyal to him.

  And he was undoubtedly loyal to her and only her.

  Except when he wasn’t.

  Which were the nights he was in my bed.

  When I didn’t move, she stormed forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair in her hand. I squashed the painful scream that filled my throat, feeling single hairs being ripped from my scalp one after another as she pulled harder, forcing me to slink back, then onto my knees to escape the pain.

  “You want to go back home, Angie?” she taunted, crouching down and pressing her face right in close to mine. She reached out, brushing away the stray tears that were now decorating my cheeks, thanks to the pulsating ache in my skull.

  “Let me go,” I hissed through gritted teeth, her grip easing just slightly.

  “We brought you here,” she whispered, the gentle tone much like that of a mother trying to soothe her child. “We protected you from your dad. Pay for you to go to a good school. Found sponsors so you could join your little swim team…”

  I was finally getting good grades, and I had always had this addiction to the water, but now with her backing me, I finally had the chance to make the regional team.

  Gritting my teeth, I listened to the speech, the one I’d heard time and fucking time again.

  How she was so good to me.

  How she had saved me.

  Given me a life I could have never dreamed of.

  Reminding me of what I could go back to if I wanted to walk away…

  A run-down apartment with the electricity turned off more often than it was on.

  The constant questioning of whether I would eat that day because my father spent everything he had earned on alcohol.

  Him using me as his personal punching bag because apparently, it was my fault my mom died.

  I paid for my parents’ decisions every single damn day of my life. That was until two years ago when Lisa showed up like the fairy godmother I thought I deserved. She told me I was beautiful, told me how much potential I had to be something amazing. I inhaled the praise, greedy for more when I was at a place in my life where I didn’t even need amazing.

  I would have been happy with merely being something.

  Anything.

  And to begin with, the attention from these older men, it was exactly what I thought I wanted. They fawned over me, offered to buy me gifts, worshiped me in a way I’d never been before. Fucking them actually made me feel powerful until I began to realize I was not the one in power. They talked a good game, made me feel like I was special because they knew they were doing something wrong.

  The sweet words were nothing because, the moment we reached the bedroom, they’d be ripping my clothes off, sticking their dick in me for less than three minutes, then moving on.

  All they wanted was to get off.

  To be satisfied.

  Problem was I was purely the pawn in that process.

  They didn’t give a shit about whether I felt good.

  Hell, a lot of the time I’m sure they liked it better when I didn’t.

  I was being used.

  Coerced.

  Blackmailed.

  And when I tried to say no, tell Lisa I didn’t want to do this anymore, I was beaten.

  I’d taken a leap of faith.

  Right into the fires of hell.

  And now I was praying that one day they might actually destroy me.

  Lisa finally released me from her tight grip, my sore and aching body sinking back onto the floor.

  “Now you’re going to get up,” she explained, her fingers caressing my jaw as she stepped back. “You’re going to plaster a beautiful, welcoming smile on your face, and you are going to please the man I send in here for you. Are we clear?”

  Gritting my teeth, I fought every natural urge I had to fight back, knowing it wouldn’t be any use because all it would get me was punishment.

  Locked away.

  Probably beaten.

  And while telling Lisa to go fuck herself could have been worth a few days of not being able to get out of bed, it wasn’t worth it.

  Because a few days ago things changed.

  So I shut my mouth.

  “I said… Are. We. Clear?”

  I cleared my throat, swallowing back the tears, and answered, “Crystal.”

  ZOEY

  Sixteen Years Later

  “Blair, move it,” I called from the front door of our little two-bedroom apartment.

  My foot tapped impatiently on the tiled floor as I once again took another look at the time on m
y phone. I was going to be late—nothing new there.

  “Keep your pants on,” my teenage daughter screamed back at me, forcing me to take two deep, hopefully calming breaths.

  The kid was the brightest light in my life, but Blair was also the sharpest pain in my ass. She was like a walking, talking lesson in karma.

  A few seconds later, Blair came flying out of her room, her backpack hanging from one shoulder as she hopped around fighting to pull on one of her shoes. “I’m just letting it be known again…” she protested, slightly out of breath, “… I’m not happy about this.” Blair finally got the defiant shoe on and huffed out an exhausted breath.

  “Noted, for the eighty-fourth time.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me as she headed for the front door, and I returned the gesture—because I was mature like that—before pulling it closed behind us.

  “Why can’t I just go to the local public school?” Blair continued to groan as we pulled out of the apartment complex parking lot in my trusty Toyota. This car had gotten us across the country and back again on several occasions. I’d been waiting for years for her to break down, but she was still hanging in there.

  Blair yanked uncomfortably at the collar of her polo shirt, then her nose screwed up in disgust. “You know… public school,” she continued in annoyance when I didn’t reply. “Where they don’t wear plaid skirts and collared shirts that make me feel like I’m being slowly decapitated.”

  “Wow! Where’s your crown at, drama queen?” I quipped.

  Blair patted her hand around on the top of her head. “Oh, dammit, I must have left it back at the apartment with my get-me-the-hell-out-of-here wand.” I tried hard not to smile. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need that today, so can we go back and get it?”

  “Sorry, your majesty. The carriage is almost at the kingdom,” I informed her in a hoity-toity voice, pointing to the large building up ahead.

  “Fantastic.”

  She felt like I was punishing her. And while I’d always fought tooth and nail to make sure Blair was happy, this was one of those times where I needed to put my foot down and remind myself she would thank me later.