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Jace (The Black Hornets MC)
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She doesn’t belong here. Leti, with her perfect skin and dark hair.
Jace is the first book in the Black Hornets MC Series.
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I grabbed a lipstick on my bathroom counter and opened the cap. I tried to roll it up, but then quickly realized that this wasn’t my real lipstick. Shit. I immediately put it back down on the counter next to several other makeup items.
Which one was my real lipstick?
I grabbed another lipstick tube and opened it up. I let out a slight sigh of relief when I saw real lipstick inside instead of a fake container. I brushed the bright red lipstick across my lips, and then I looked at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes usually had a golden brightness to them, but now they just looked dark brown and dull. I poked slightly at the puffy bags under my eyes and let out a long sigh. I was tired, and it was started to show everywhere on my face.
How did I get myself into this mess again?
My eyes fell to down to my bracelet on my wrist. It was a simple string braided bracelet. The colors of the strings had faded over the years, and it wasn’t nearly as bright and colorful as it once was. But I refused to take it off. My brother and I made them for one another. It was a way for us to always be connected. Flashes of my brother’s face came into my mind, and I closed my eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. It was because they took my brother. That’s how I got into this mess. I was trying to save my brother’s life. I would do anything to save him.
I kept that in the forefront of my mind as I packed up all my things.
My entire carry-on suitcase was filled with different kinds of makeup. I had a powder foundation, powder blush, and several different eyeshadow compacts. Hell, with all the makeup in there I looked like traveling beauty counter.
Which I guess was the point.
I was supposed to look like makeup artist heading home from a photo shoot in Mexico. There was even stitched logo of a makeup beauty brand on my bag to sell my story. But all of those makeup cases were filled with a completely different power than what was found in regular makeup.
Cocaine, to be exact.
Two months ago, my life was turned upside down. After the death of my father, a man in the street approached me and told me my father owed a debt that now sat on my shoulders. Which scared me enough, since my family didn’t have a lot of money. My father was from Mexico, and my mother was from the United States. My father had immigrated to the U.S. as a child, and he met my mother when they both attended college. They fell in love their freshman year and were together ever since. My mother died in childbirth trying to have my younger brother, and my father was never the same. We were struggling to keep our heads afloat when depression sucked my father under. My father tried the best he could. He tried to work through the grief of losing the love of his life. However, his grief eventually became too much for him to bear. Which meant I had to step up as the older sibling and take care of our family.
When I was fifteen, I took on two after-school jobs to help pay our bills. It was tough working all of those hours, but as my father’s depression worsened his will to work dissipated as well. The only time my father seemed to be somewhat happy was when we would visit our extended family in Mexico. But those trips slowly became fewer and far between because of our dwindling finances.
By the time I turned eighteen, I barely recognized my father. He wasn’t the man that he used to be. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, my father decided to leave us, and he took his own life.
It left my brother and me parent-less. With no family left in the United States, we were all on our own. Luckily, since I was eighteen, I was able to become my brother’s legal guardian. I was at least thankful that my father waited until after my birthday because otherwise, we would have been forced to move back to Mexico to the only family we had left.
After my father’s death, I tried to do well by my brother. I wanted to get him to keep at it with school by promising him that when he got into high school, I’d finally work on going to a community college. We’d graduate at the same time and have a big celebration with ice cream and all the food he could ever dream of.
Those were our dreams. Graduating high school and college alive and food as far as the eye could see on a table that wasn’t splintered and decaying.