Brewer

BREWER UNTAMED SONS MC MANCHESTER CHAPTER JESSICA AMES Copyright © 2022 by Jessica Ames www.jessicaamesauthor.com Brewer is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or establishments is solely coincidental. Editing - Dark Syde Edits Proofreader – Gem’s Precise Proofreads Cover Model – Justin Michaels by Reggie Deanching Alpha Readers – Jayne Ruston, Clara Martinez Turco Beta Readers – Lynne Garlick, Lisa Foot, Karen Kerr, Tracey Pearson, Kara Paquin Merideth, Pat Labrie, Jenni Oldham Please note: this book contains material aimed at an adult audience, including sex, violence, and bad language. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under Copyright Act 1911 and the Copyright Act 1988, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express written consent of the author. This book is covered under the United Kingdom’s Copyright Laws. For more information visit: www.gov.uk/copyright/overview CONTENTS Author’s Note 1. Brewer 2. Brewer 3. Ophelia 4. Brewer 5. Ophelia 6. Brewer 7. Ophelia 8. Brewer 9. Ophelia 10. Brewer 11. Ophelia 12. Brewer 13. Ophelia 14. Brewer 15. Ophelia 16. Brewer 17. Brewer 18. Ophelia 19. Brewer 20. Ophelia 21. Brewer Epilogue Did you love Brewer? Get a free book and exclusive content Enjoyed this book? Also by Jessica Ames About the Author AUTHOR’S NOTE This book contains upsetting themes. For a full list of these themes visit: https://www.jessicaamesauthor.com/jessicaamestwcw This book is set in the United Kingdom. Some spellings may differ. CHAPTER 1 BREWER PAST… At the sound of my name being squealed, I glance up from under the bonnet of the car I’m working on. Jamie rushes towards me, his sandy blond hair sticking up, his dungarees undone on one side and flapping loose as he runs. “Uncle Madden!” My nephew is the image of his father. Aside from the hair colouring, they both have the same nose and chin, as well as the same dark blue eyes. I don’t hold that against the boy, though, even if his father is a colossal prick. I hold my hands up before he can touch me, stopping him in his tracks. “Distance, kiddo. I’m full of grease.” Jamie isn’t the type of child to care about getting dirty—he’s spent hours in this garage with me over the summer holidays—but his clothes look new, and the last thing I need is my sister giving me shit. Standing in front of me, he twists the strap of his dungarees between his fingers, his expression hesitant and a little scared. I frown at him. “Hey, you’re not in trouble,” I tell him. “I just don’t want to get grease on you.” I reach behind me and grab a cloth off the top of my tool kit to wipe the excess dirt from my hands, but the dark residue clings under my nails and around the beds. “Can I help you fix it?” Jamie asks, his eyes wide and pleading. Before I can reply, Wren’s voice cuts over me. “Not today, Jay.” I lift my eyes as my sister steps into the workshop holding my niece, Lillia, in her arms. Unlike her brother and father, Lillia has her mother’s dark copper-coloured hair that is scooped up into two pigtails either side of her head. She’s clutching a stuffed bear to her like armour. It’s the one I gave her when she was born and I visited Wren in the hospital. It had only been a fiver from the hospital giftshop, but Lillia loves that bloody bear. She can’t sleep without it, even though it’s getting threadbare in places. Jamie wanders over to the counter that runs the length of the back wall of the garage and picks up a socket wrench. My nephew has always had an interest in cars, one I’m willing to share with him. Lillia is a little young yet, but I’ll teach her too if she wants to know. “Why can’t I help?” he asks, his voice taking on a whiny tone that I know is going to lead to an argument between him and Wren. If I’m being honest, my sister looks exhausted, so I offer a compromise in the hope it’ll calm things before they get started. “If your mum says it’s okay, you can help me in the garage over the weekend,” I say, glancing at Wren for approval. She smiles faintly and gives me a nod. Jamie’s eyes widen. “Really?” “Yeah, kid.” I ruffle his hair as he comes to my side. He’s only six, but at the rate he’s growing, he’s going to be as tall as I am. He definitely got the Kelley genes when it comes to height—at least on the male side. Wren, unlike the rest of us, is fucking tiny, which is why we call her Wren, rather than Serenity. Dad had a thing for watching the birds in the garden before he passed, and he always called her his little wren. Years later, that name still sticks. “I’ll show you how to change out a carburettor,” I offer. I know he’s wanted to do some bigger jobs with me and I think he’s of an age where he should be able to do them. “Yes!” He fist pumps the air, making me laugh. “Thanks, Madden.” Wren’s voice has me turning back to her. “He loves it here.” “I love having him here. You know that.” Her hair is pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and she’s wearing a loose-fitting sweater. “Everything okay?” I ask. She shifts Lillia on her hip and the smile she gives me is entirely forced. “I hate to even ask, but Jamie needs new football boots for school, and with Lillia, we just don’t have the money.” It’s not the first time my sister has come to me like this. I can