Jacob (Exposed Marco's MMA Boys #5) Read online

  JACOB

  EXPOSED

  Marco’s MMA Boys

  Book 5

  By

  S.M. DONALDSON

  Table of Contents

  INTRODUCTION

  DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Titles By S.M. Donaldson

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  Jacob Exposed

  All rights reserved. This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher.

  Thank you for respecting the work of this Author.

  Jacob Exposed is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book are either from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, with exception to brand names, Artists named, and their song lyrics, and direct quotes from movies whose titles have been named. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2016 SM Donaldson

  Cover by: Indie Vention-Designs

  Cover Model: Jason Estes

  Photography by: RLS Photography

  Editing by: Chelly Peeler

  Beta Readers: Chelsea Camaron and Kimberly Holm

  E-Book Version

  ISBN-10: 0-9908631-8-2

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9908631-8-2

  Introduction

  *Intended for mature audiences only 18+*

  This book contains strong language, strong sexual situations, violence, and sexual assault/rape, which may be triggering to some survivors.

  This is not meant to be a true or exact depiction of how federal agents would do their jobs or how the cases would work, rather it’s a work of fiction meant to entertain.

  This book is written in a true southern dialect, from a true southern person. Therefore, it is NOT going to have proper grammar. That being said, the “g” isn’t cut off of every “ing” ending.

  DEDICATION

  To Becky for living the gypsy life being undercover and making sure to tell me the stories.

  DESCRIPTION

  Jacob Foster knows all too well about living a life of lies and deceit. After a string of bad cases working for the CIA, he’s tired of the undercover world and agency politics. Needing to find himself again, he leaves everything behind to move home. Letting his focus be on helping his sister and her newborn son, he pushes the past behind him.

  Life goes on, years go by, and he finds normalcy.

  Roxanne Gilliland knew nothing but the life the ATF created for her from childhood. Following in her father’s footsteps, she’s let the agency direct her world. But there is always the one case that comes along. That one case takes everything and everyone away from her.

  She moves on—new town, new life, but the threat never leaves her mind.

  What happens when an old friend lands on her front porch and everyone’s secrets threaten to be exposed? They knew each other as agents. Later, they went from friends to lovers. When Jacob is forced undercover as a fighter to win against the past, is he strong enough to win the match and Roxanne’s heart?

  This book contains strong language, strong sexual situations, violence, and sexual assault/rape, which may be triggering to some survivors.

  CHAPTER 1

  JACOB

  TEN YEARS AGO…

  DALLAS, TX

  Standing in an old warehouse and seeing shit unfold around me, it all just pisses me off.

  My boss, Raines, steps toward me. “Son, I know you’re pissed, but keep it under control. If you lose your shit right now, it could be your ass.”

  “Fuck them. Fuck my job, fuck it all.” I start for the door.

  “I need to debrief you,” I hear him call out.

  “Tomorrow,” I bark. I’m done with this shit for tonight.

  An hour later, I’m sitting on the couch drinking beer number six. How did I go from working construction with my dad, to enlisting in the Army at eighteen for three years and then being recruited to work for the CIA? This is just crazy, that was five years ago. Every damn day I look at how the planet is going to shit and crumbling around me. I’m tired of watching how this world works. I’m only twenty-six and I’m just sick of it. Certain people don’t have to pay for crimes and some government agencies just let it happen. Don’t get me wrong, I know the CIA’s reputation and I know underhanded shit goes on, but for the FBI to step in, then just up and say that the drug cartel that I’ve sunk the last two years of my life into gets a slap on the wrist because their boss donated to the right campaign fund? Well, that’s the last damn straw. They walked in that warehouse and pretty much got every damn bit of evidence I had, but they’ll never get it all because I’m fucking smart. I’m an analyst, one of the few that also goes into the field, and I follow every trail. I follow money, I follow contacts, I look over every piece of evidence. I know everything about these people, from who their dry cleaner is to how they like to fuck their wife and girlfriends. I see every shitty thing this group has done. Every murder they’ve committed, every junkie that has OD’d on their shit, and I’m over it. I finish the last of my current beer and just toss the bottle at the trash can, missing it.

  I sit here in my efficiency apartment; the walls look like someone hosed them down with piss. The appliances are from the early seventies probably, the lighting reminds me of a bad horror movie and it has this damn smell. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of it. But I’m living in a shithole because I’m supposed to be a broke construction worker with a slight drug problem. My personal cell phone rings, breaking me from my thoughts and I look at the screen to see my sister’s name.

  “Hey, it’s my favorite little sis.” I try to sound normal.

  I hear her sniff into the phone. “Jacob.”

  “Sloan. What’s wrong, sweetie? The football player being an asshole?”

  “Jacob, I-I’m pregnant.” I’m seriously lost as to what to say.

  Think. “What have Mom and Dad said?” I question.

  “I-I can’t tell them. I’m a disappointment. I don’t know what to do.” She’s crying harder now.

  “What has the football god Lucas said?” I’m curious if he’s going to be a stand-up guy or if I’m going to have to kill him.

  “He wants me to get rid of it, but I just can’t do that.” She sniffs. “It may be stupid, but I just can’t.” Yep, gonna have to kill him.

  “No, sweetie, it’s not stupid. He’s a selfish asshole. It’s all going to be okay.”

  “How do you know that? I can’t go to any medical programs now. Dad is going to be so damn angry.”

  “Hey, give him more credit. Yes, he’ll be upset, but he won’t be angry. He may want to kill Lucas,
but I do, too. First step, you gotta tell them. I’ve got some leave coming up. I’ll put in for it and come home to check on you. We’ll get this figured out, I promise, little sis.”

  “Okay. I’ll, um, I’ll go home this weekend and talk to them. You don’t need to use your leave time. You won’t get much of it before your next deployment.” My family still thinks I’m in the Army.

  “It’s okay, I was planning a trip home anyway.”

  “Jacob, you’re the best big brother ever.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say with a small laugh. “I’ll see you soon, little bit.”

  “Thanks. Bye, Jacob.” She clicks off and I lay my phone on the end table.

  Rubbing my hands up and down my face, I know I need a change. I can’t do this. Grabbing my agency phone, I call my boss before I talk myself out of it.

  “Raines,” he barks into the phone.

  “So they fucked us on this case.”

  “Yep, Foster. They fucked us. Without so much as a tickle or a reach around.” I can tell he’s had a few drinks.

  “I’m done, Raines. This was my last case. My family’s got some shit going on, I’m needed back there.”

  “Fuck. Foster, don’t do this. Don’t walk away. You’re the best damn analyst I’ve got.”

  “Nope. I’m done living in shithole apartments, hanging out with asshole criminals, analyzing their every move just so people who’re supposed to be on my side can screw me over.”

  I hear him grunt. “All right. I’ll debrief you tomorrow. I’d like to go over some other options with you, though, we may still be able to use you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tomorrow. I gotta talk to my boss.”

  “Fine.” I hit end and throw the phone on my desk.

  ~*~*~

  Two weeks later, I’m sitting in my parents’ living room in Hagans, Florida, looking at some ads for houses. My family thinks I got a medical discharge because of a shoulder injury. Which is somewhat true. I’ve had a shoulder injury, from when I got shot a couple of years ago. So I’m going back to construction work and doing a little hush hush freelance work on the side for the agency.

  After I narrow my choices down to two places, I put the paper down. “Okay, so this is what I want to propose. I’m going to get a three-bedroom house. Sloan is going to finish school in something. She and the baby can live with me until she’s able to get her own place.”

  My mom sits up a little. “That’s sweet, honey, but she and the baby can stay here with us.”

  “Mom, Sloan needs her own space. You guys have already turned my room into an office. That’d put Sloan and the baby in a room together. I’m sure that’s fine with her, but she’s been living on her own now for a while. She doesn’t need to feel like she’s taking steps back in life. I want her to know she can still be moving forward.”

  My dad nods his head. “As much as I’d love to have her here, honey, he’s right. Sloan’s always been independent. This is already weighing on her mind, I’m sure. She doesn’t want to come back home. This way it’s like she just has a roommate.”

  My mom sighs. “I guess you guys are right. When are you going to talk to her about this?”

  “In a little bit. I’m meeting her for lunch before I go check in with a buddy of mine about a job coming up.”

  Dad gets up and walks past me, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” If he only knew the things I’ve witnessed and done, he wouldn’t think I’m a good man.

  CHAPTER 2

  JACOB

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER…

  “Come on, Sloan, you can do this,” I tell my sister as she grips my hand through another hard contraction. I’ve been home now for seven months, helping my sister get ready for this baby. Her ex got picked up by the NFL team in New Orleans. She won’t take anything from him. She won’t even cash the check he gave her to go get an abortion. She keeps the damn thing as a reminder she says.

  “Fuck, this hurts, Jacob,” she says with a sob.

  “It’s going to be okay. You’re the toughest chick I know, little sis. You got this.”

  Of course the one weekend our parents are out of town, she goes into labor. They are camping down at Lake Ockeechobee. Well, they were. Now they’re headed here, actually they should be getting here anytime.

  “FUCK!” Sloan yells as another contraction hits. I almost scream the same thing given my hand feels like it’s being crushed in a vice grip.

  The door swings open and in comes my mom and dad. My mom is practically out of breath. “I’m here.”

  My dad looks at my sister and shakes his head. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

  “Daddy!” she screams, then he can’t leave. He goes up beside her head, trying to calm her while my mother gets settled on the other side.

  “I’m going to step out for a few minutes,” I say and my parents nod.

  My dad calls my name and tosses me his keys. “Will you go park my truck better and out of the way? Your mother wanted to get in here so fast, I’m taking up like six parking spaces with that camper behind it.”

  I nod and walk out the door.

  “I love you, Jacob,” my sister cries.

  “I love you, too, little bit.”

  After moving my dad’s truck, I take a seat in the coffee shop of our small hospital. I need to check some shit. I’m in the middle of some work for the agency. I’m just glad I didn’t have to leave to go somewhere because Sloan would’ve been alone. She’s two weeks early.

  Checking my phone, I see Raines has texted me. Shit, I have to go to Pensacola next week. They’re starting a case there soon with the ATF and they need my intel.

  A few hours later, my sister has had a beautiful little boy. Sage Eli Foster, my nephew. I hold him and talk to him. “You’re going to be a big tough guy. One day your dipshit dad is going to decide he wants to know you and I’m going to kick his ass.”

  The baby makes a squeak noise and I grab his pacifier, placing him back in the clear hospital bassinet. I step over to my parents and quietly speak, trying not to wake my sister or the baby.

  My parents think I do some construction consulting on the side, they still know nothing about my former life. “Mom, I have a big consulting project coming up. I have to go to Pensacola next week to talk with some engineers. Do you think you can stay with Sloan and the baby for a couple of nights while I’m gone?”

  She smiles. “Sure. You gotta be careful. I’m afraid you are going to run yourself ragged.”

  My dad shakes his head, we both know how my mom worries.

  ~*~*~

  Walking into an old warehouse, I see a group sitting around. Raines stands up and walks toward me, shaking my hand. “Damn good to see you, Foster.”

  “You, too.”

  He turns as we step into the group. “This is Jacob Foster. He’s one of the best analysts I’ve ever had. The FBI fucked that up for me, so now he’s kind enough to do some side work for us.”

  A guy with a deep tan and dark hair stands up. “Mitch Layton, good to meet you. Yep, the FBI never know how to share.”

  A shorter guy with blonde hair stands up. “Frank Weeks.”

  An older, gruff man stands up. “I’m Dick Cason, these two doofus’s boss. Come join us at the table.”

  Once we’re over at the table, they start to tell me about some local crew that is trying to work with a bigger cartel. They are operating through a local MMA gym and strip club, they believe.

  “We’re going to put an undercover female on the inside of the strip club,” Dick says gruffly. “I’m not thrilled about putting her there since I’ve known her practically all of her life, but I need the best and she’s the best.”

  “What’s she going to do in there?” I ask. “Bartend?”

  “She’s going to strip and wait tables,” he says blankly.

  My eyes pop open. “Seriously?”

  He shakes his head. “She feel
s like this will be the easiest way to go in without suspicion. They aren’t going to think an agent will actually take off clothes. It’s only topless, I’m still not happy about it, but she’s bullheaded. She says she won’t half ass this, so that’s what I have.”

  “How is she going to carry a weapon?”

  Mitch laughs. “Trust me, she’ll have one close, but she won’t need one.”

  “Where is she today?”

  “Right here,” I hear a female voice say behind me.

  I stand up and turn to face her. “Jacob Foster.”

  She sticks her hand out. “Roxanne Gilliland, or Zanne Gilbert.” She’s fucking hot. She could totally be a stripper. A tight body, even though right now it’s covered in cargo pants and a simple Rolling Stones vintage shirt.

  “You sure you wanna go in like this? I mean I’m only here as an outside analyst, but it’s going to be nuts.”

  She shrugs. “Worrying I won’t do my damn job?”

  I shake my head. The ATF is fucking crazy. “All right, show me some of the evidence you’ve got and I’ll get started.”

  She pulls out a cigarette and lights it, dropping into the chair next to me. “Well, okay,” she says with a certain sass. As we go through her notes, I feel like we’re fucking each other with our eyes. Maybe I’m wrong and it’s just been too damn long since I’ve gotten some ass.

  Eight hours later, I’m lying in a hotel room staring at the damn ceiling, thinking through the notes of this case. A knock at my door brings me from my night of fun.

  Looking through the peep hole, I see Agent Gilliland. I open the door and see she’s got beer. “I figured you could use something to drink after today.”

  “You figured right,” I say with a smile as she hands me one while walking in.

  Once she’s inside my room, she sits on the bed opposite of me. “So what made you become a freelance?”

  I open the beer. “Tired of getting fucked over. Living in shit and my family having no clue what I’m doing or where I am.”

  She nods. “Yeah, I get that.”