Skeletons and secrets. We all have them. They weigh on our souls, even when we try to fool ourselves and pretend they don’t. Since I was a kid I’ve carried a secret that haunts me, casting shadows of doubt over every relationship I have.
I know the signs of someone hiding the truth, because I do it every day. And the sexy little vixen who walked into our Soulless Kings MC definitely isn’t telling us everything. Despite my growing attraction, I’ll die before I let her problems harm my family. The second she brings any trouble down on the club, the biggest problem she’ll have to face… is me.
Riley…
Dodge and weave. As a boxer, that’s what I’m good at. Now, it might be what’s keeping me alive. Someone is after me, threatening the lives of those I love. To protect my friends, I ran… straight into yet another problem.
The MC seems a perfect place to hide, surrounded by renegade bikers. While Joker, the Sergeant at Arms of the club, is sinfully sexy, I can tell he’s suspicious of every move I make. His distrust is palpable, and I fear the very worst if he learns I lied. Yet, when the danger stalking me closes in, I have no choice but to expose my skeletons… and see where they fall.
“What crawled up your ass?” I can’t help but antagonize her.
“Seriously?” When I don’t respond, she continues. “You are without a doubt the worst kind of asshole.”
“Oh yeah?” I quirk a brow at her. “Please, enlighten me.”
Riley twists in her seat, resting her hands on her thighs. I let my eyes travel to the frayed holes in the denim, just beneath her fingertips, and her tan, smooth skin seems to taunt me. I avert my gaze and refocus on the road.
“You think you’re God’s gift,” she finally says after an annoyingly long silence. “You’re an ass to everyone around you and you know it. You’re judgmental, egotistical, cocky, and… and…”
“Don’t stop now, Black Bird. You’re on a roll.”
“What did you just call me?”
I look at Riley and find more questions than answers. It’s hard to miss the way all color seems to drain from her face, or the way the vein in her neck pulses from her increased heart rate.
“Black Bird,” I respond and relish the way she sucks in a breath while simultaneously wondering why that bothers her. Something else for me to figure out.
“Why would you call me that?”
She’s facing forward now, and her right hand is clutching the door handle. This is a perfect example of why there should be child safety locks on the front doors of trucks. Although, I don’t think keeping pissed off, unsuspecting females in is what Ford had in mind when the vehicles were designed, so what do I know?
I nod toward her right wrist. “Your ink.”
Riley glances at her own tiny tat and her body seems to deflate. “Oh.”
Unable to shake the feeling that I’m missing something, that there’s more to this chick than what she’s choosing to show, I decide to start getting answers. I take the next exit and find a parking lot so I can focus.
“Where are you from?” I ask after putting the truck in park.
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it does. Everything matters.”
“Cali.”
That’s the truth. Only people who are actually from California call it Cali.
“What’s your real name?”
“I already told you. Riley Damian.”
When the pulse point in her throat jumps, I know she’s lying. Well, well, well… Miss Riley-whoever-the-fuck has a tell.
ABOUT ANDI RHODES
Andi Rhodes is an author and avid reader of MC romance and romantic suspense. Her books are sassy and suspenseful with a heavy dose of sizzle and are guaranteed to deliver an HEA and all the feels. When she’s not writing, Andi loves spending time with her husband and their pack of dogs. For access to release info, updates, and exclusive content, be sure to sign up for Andi’s newsletter at andirhodes.com.
ABOUT NICOLE CYPHER
Nicole Cypher is an author and avid reader of dark romance. She began her writing journey in college and hasn’t looked back since. In her books you can expect a yummy anti-hero, plenty of action, and a happy ending.
Be sure to sign up for her newsletter at nicolecypher.com to stay up to date on the latest releases, special offers, and exclusive bonus chapters.
Alora – I’ve prided myself on being a strong, independent woman and not needing anyone. I didn’t become a bestselling author by the age of twenty out of pure dumb luck. I worked my tail off to get as far as I have. But there are few perks to having a man in my life. Laughter, romance, and companionship. Battery operated boyfriends can only do so much. Too bad the guy who sets me on fire is a bossy biker who wants to claim me. No way I’m letting him label me as property. Nope. Not happening. Doesn’t matter if he does make my knees weak and my heart race. I’m not giving in!
Rooster – Of all the women to capture my interest, it had to be the most stubborn, sexy, adorable woman on the planet. I love her mind, her sense of humor, and the way she fills out a pair of shorts. I don’t even mind that she’s an exhibitionist, as long as no one touches. Doesn’t matter to me her uncles were both rotten to the core. The Devil’s Fury may think she belongs to them, but I have other plans. Alora will be mine — no matter the cost.
WARNING: Rooster is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series. There are adult situations and bad language. No cliffhanger. Happily-ever-after and laughter guaranteed!
“This book was steamy and laugh out loud funny… Just the perfect combo!!!” – Tanya @ Goodreads
“This book was absolutely worth the wait! It’s everything I have come to expect from this author and more.” – G @ Goodreads
“Woah! Steamy reading ahead. I just finished reading Rooster and I reckon this is the best yet…” – Alice @ BookBub
“This one was outrageously funny and so steamy it fogged my windows up!” – Julie @ BookBub
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
She’s meant to be mine — no matter what her family thinks. And I’ll bury anyone who hurts her.
Titan (Hades Abyss MC 5): Delilah — My three older brothers and overprotective father have run off every guy I’ve ever tried to date. It’s time I made a life of my own. I never thought I’d end up in a motorcycle club, working as a webcam girl. When the club President, Titan, kisses me, then issues a challenge, how can I possibly refuse?
Titan — I’m a possessive bastard. One kiss is all it takes to know Delilah belongs to me. When she’s taken, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, and I’ll bury anyone who’s hurt her. Delilah’s mine, and I’ll kill to protect her.
Grease Monkey — A Bad Boy Romance For all appearances, Gwen’s daddy’s little darling — a socialite with more money than sense — but what she really wants is to break free from her gilded cage. When her Mercedes breaks down, Gwen’s knight in shining tow trucks turns out to be more than she expected. Will the hot mechanic be the first guy to rock her world?
Bonus: Includes Titan (Hades Abyss MC 5) Deleted Scene — What happened when Titan sent Patriot to get MaryAnne…
The rooms where the girls held their shows had a small bathroom where they could shower and change after. I didn’t lurk in the hall like a creeper, but I did stick to the end of the bar nearest the rooms while I nursed a beer. When Delilah came out, her cheeks rosy and a smile on her lips, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her.
“Have a good show?” I asked with a wink.
Her smile broadened. “Always. I wasn’t too loud, was I?”
“If you get a salute from every guy in here, then it just means you’re doing your job right. We don’t have to watch. Just listening to you is enough to make men want to fuck you.”
Her cheeks went crimson and she ducked her head, but not before I saw a pleased little grin on her lips. She was a contradiction. Bold and sassy enough to do a live webcam show of her getting herself off for money, but in person she seemed almost shy at times. It was cute as fuck, just like her. I reached out and ran my fingers through her hair, unable to help myself.
“I like it,” I said. When she’d first arrived, her hair had been a medium brown, not too far off from the color of my hair. Since I’d last seen her, she’d dyed it black with purple streaks. It made her look as pale as Snow White, and her vivid blue eyes stood out even more.
She came a little closer, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag giving an indication she might be nervous. “Thank you. Not just for the compliment, but for giving us a safe place to work. I know the club takes a cut, but it’s better than trying to do this at the apartment. I’d be scared someone would find me.”
“Not going to let anything hurt you, angel.” I stroked my finger down her nose, then leaned back a little so I wouldn’t be tempted to do far more. Shit. She had to be half my age. The fact she never tried to get a drink, other than asking for a bottle of water or a soda, made me wonder if she was even twenty-one. I knew she was legal or she wouldn’t be able to do the webcam show at all.
Missy had come to us with the idea a year ago and she’d hashed out the details with the club officers. We got twenty percent from each girl to not only offer protection, but Missy also paid Wizard to set up the site and the programming required for it to work. The woman had started her own company and she’d been smart about it. For a fee, Wizard tracked all the people using the site and made sure it remained operational. How she handled payment to the girls working for her was her business and hers alone.
I always felt bad taking any money from Delilah. Hell, I was the only one paying her. When she paid her twenty percent each week, it was like she’d paid me to watch her get off. Shit. And now I was getting hard again.
“I also wanted to thank you for not… not making me feel like…” She bit her lip and looked away.
“Like a whore?” I asked.
She gave a jerky nod and glanced at me. “I know what I’m doing isn’t exactly conventional. Some guys might consider it prostitution and think they had a right to take what they wanted. I feel safe here. No one ever says anything bad to me. The few who do make remarks are always teasing.”
“You know Missy comes here even when she’s not doing her show, right?” I asked. I wasn’t so sure my brothers were only teasing. Delilah was hot as hell and I knew every damn one of the men in my club would gladly have her on her back, bent over a table, or on her knees. Then I’d have to bust their damn heads. I’d already started to think of her as mine, even though we seldom interacted with one another. They knew how I felt about her, but it didn’t mean they didn’t want her just the same.
“Yeah, she said she likes to party with the club. She’s tried to get me to come with her.”
I straightened, towering over her. “Don’t come to the parties at the clubhouse. You hear me, Delilah?”
Her eyes went wide, and she paled a little before anger tightened her features. “I’m not a child, Titan. If I want to attend a party, I will. It’s why I left home, so I could have a life. I didn’t trade one dad for another.”
Ouch. “Dad? You think I’m your second daddy?”
She visibly swallowed and tried to take a step back, but I reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, yanking her toward me. I leaned down, and my gaze locked with hers.
“Then maybe I ought to turn you over my knee and spank you.”
She gasped and swayed toward me. And in that moment, I knew it was a lost cause. There was no fucking way I’d ever be able to walk away from her. I kissed her. Hard. My tongue thrust between her lips as I took what I wanted, bent her to my will, and had her whimpering for more. Her hands fisted my cut as she clung to me. I wound her long hair around my hand, anchoring her.
I’d always been a demanding man in the bedroom, and it wasn’t something I’d change anytime soon. I liked being in control. The way she melted against me told me enough. She might have some spunk, but deep down, she was a submissive little thing. She’d take my orders and love every second of it.
I nipped her jaw, then put my lips by her ear. “You want to come to a party? Want to know what will happen?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
Published by Changeling Press Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland Genres/Themes: MC Romance, Action Adventure, New Adult, Suspense
Justice: I expected to spend most of the rest of my life in prison. Even so, I worked for my club, Salvation’s Bane, gathering valuable information about Palm Beach and all the clubs residing there. Imagine my surprise when a short, clumsy, curvy female comes to my rescue. The moment I see her in that prim skirt stretched tight over her ass and the blouse straining to contain her tits I know I want her. I’m just not sure she’s capable of handling all I have to give after eight years in the big house.
Mae: Archer “Justice” Creed may not be completely innocent, but he’s not guilty of the crime they convicted him of. Fighting to get him freed was a long, hard battle, but I’m not letting them keep him behind bars a second longer. What I didn’t count on was being attracted to the big, tattooed former lawyer. I know a perfumed rock would look good to him after eight long years in prison, but he’s ready and I’m willing. Too bad he’s an arrogant asshole out of bed. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck with the big brute. I ruffled some feathers at the DA’s office when I got Justice freed, and now I could be in some danger. But do I trust Justice to protect me, or should I go back to Rycks, my guardian and an enforcer in Black Reign MC? Our clubs aren’t exactly enemies, but they’re not friends.
Oh, and those ruffled feathers I mentioned before? They’re coming after me. And Justice.
Justice had heard this a thousand times since he went away for murder eight years ago. Usually after he’d beat a motherfucker for pissing him off and some judge was giving him extra time.
This time was different.
“I find myself in the position of being the one to inform you that your conviction has been overturned.”
OK. He wasn’t expecting that.
“Your lawyer mounted an investigation into the prosecuting attorney for your trial, and there were several… irregularities discovered. While the details of the case are still being hammered out, one thing is certain. Due to prosecutorial misconduct, your conviction is overturned with prejudice.”
The judge was an older, balding man with thick glasses and a ruddy complexion. Justice had liked the man on sight, but now Justice wanted to vote him judge of the fucking year. “I haven’t reviewed the case because I don’t care much, so your lawyer can review the particulars if you want them.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “I carry out the job the state presents me with. If it doesn’t require a judgment from me, I just carry out the order.”
He didn’t look apologetic at all. Yeah. Justice liked him.
“All I know is the state’s attorney overstepped his authority in your case. As such, you cannot be retried for the same crime. The state apologizes for its mistreatment of you.”
“I ain’t goin’ back to that fuckin’ place for any reason, judge,” Justice said, earning him a frown from the bailiff but a small smile from the judge.
“Can’t say that I blame you, son. There are procedures –”
“Ain’t. Goin’. Back.”
Again, the bailiff frowned, this time putting his hand on his weapon and taking a threatening step forward.
“Stop it, George,” the judge said in an exasperated tone. “The man wouldn’t be in this position if Alister hadn’t fucked up the case in the first damned place.”
Justice raised an eyebrow. He’d never heard a judge talk that way in court before. He liked this guy better every second.
The judge turned his attention back to Justice. “I only have one question. After that, you’re free to go. The state will send your belongings to the address of your choosing, and you don’t have to go collect them yourself.”
“Ask,” Justice said, crossing his arms over his chest. This ought to be good.
“Why do they call you Justice?”
The question surprised Justice, but only because he expected everyone in the fucking state to know his name. But then, it had been twelve years. “I used to be a lawyer.”
“Oh? For what state?”
“Florida.” Justice leveled his gaze on the judge. Not backing down an inch.
The older man narrowed his eyes. “Archer Creed…” Then he sat back in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Don’t ask me if I’m the Archer Creed or I might just do something to earn that prison sentence.”
The judge’s previously congenial face hardened. This was the type of judge Justice was used to. “I like you, son. It’s the only reason I don’t slap you with a contempt charge for that remark.” He held Justice’s gaze for a moment before speaking again. “I know the case. Was a bit dug into my own business at the time, but I remember thinking they’d hand you your ass for the stunt you pulled.”
“You were right.”
“Sorry I was. I can’t condone violence in any form, but the bastard got what he deserved.”
“I only bucked the system, your honor. Bastard had so many people in his pocket, everything I had got thrown out before it could be presented to a jury.”
“Ironic that you’d get railroaded into a conviction for a crime you may not have committed in the very case that got you disbarred.”
Justice shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“I’m surprised your lawyer isn’t present for this.”
“Far as I know, I don’t have one.”
“Well, someone took up the cause. Must have a good mind, too, to get that conviction overturned so quickly”
“Quick? If you call eight years quick, you’re older than you look.”
Surprisingly, that got a sharp bark of laughter from the judge. “Considering the family involved and the fact that Florida doesn’t like looking bad in legal matters, yeah. I’d call it quick. Are you telling me you’ve never met the lawyer who filed this on your behalf?”
“I’m sayin’ I didn’t know anything was being done on my behalf in the first Goddamned place.” Justice glanced at the bailiff. Sure enough, the man winced at his language. There was no way to stop the smirk Justice threw the other man’s way. He loved goading easy marks.
The judge had opened his mouth to say something when there was a commotion outside the chamber doors just before they burst open. A short, busty woman in four-inch heels stumbled through the door. She carried a briefcase with several pieces of paper sticking out, and her hair, which probably was supposed to be in a tight bun, was sticking out in several directions in jet-black, kinky curls. No. Curls wasn’t exactly right. They wanted to be curls, but they were mostly a frizzy mess. The glasses she wore were too big for her elfin face, her eyes the color of perfect sapphires. She wore a white blouse tucked into a black skirt. The blouse hung from her arms but stretched tightly across her breasts, and her skirt gapped at the waist, but looked like she was barely able to squeeze that generous ass into it. She carried a suit jacket draped over one arm as she caught the door with the other hand to keep from falling. All in all, she was a hot mess.
“Judge Harlan!” She stumbled once more, then righted herself and hurried to the front of the courtroom… to stand beside Justice? What the fuck?
Judge Harlan gave a long-suffering but amused sigh. “Mae Stephens. I should have known you were behind this.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
Glory -– Who up and moves to another state where they don’t know anyone and don’t have a job or a place to live? Me, that’s who. When I heard Devil’s Fury was running an underground clinic for women like me — victims of boys pretending to be men — I knew I had to be a part of it. What I didn’t count on was falling for an alpha biker with a heart of gold or turning to mush every time he holds my daughter. There’s more to Wolf than most people realize, and now that he’s decided I’m his and he’s mine, I’m holding on and never letting go. I won’t even let a killer stand in the way of my happily-ever-after.
Wolf — When my ex left for greener pastures I should have been broken-hearted. So why wasn’t I? One look at the angel who walks into Church and I know… Glory’s meant to be mine, and so is her adorable little girl. Just one problem. Well, two. She’s skittish — she’s been badly hurt by men before, and I’m not exactly a prize. I came back from the war broken physically and mentally. I know Glory can do better. But I always get what I want, and I want Glory. When someone tries to destroy my new family, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe… even if it means letting Glory see the darkness inside me.
WARNING: Wolf’s story is part of the Devil’s Fury MC series and contains some violence, bad language, sensitive issues, and adult situations. Guaranteed happily-ever-after, a baby who will steal your heart, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
“A must read for everyone that loves HEAs. Hot men, strong female characters, and lots of sexy times. What’s not to like?” – nbenigno, BookBub
“Wolf and Glory together is pure genius.” – mbtoner8, BookBub
“Prepare for waterworks with this roller coaster ride! Great story line, fantastic characters, and a love that reminds us why book boyfriends are fire!” – lauracriddle1, BookBub
“The twists and turns of this book kept me turning pages…” – T. Carney, BookBub
I’d lost my mind. What sane person picked up and moved to another state without having a job lined up, all because they wanted to volunteer for an underground clinic, which could lead to imprisonment? Me, that’s who. Although, I now questioned exactly how sane I was. My daughter, Sienna, wasn’t quite a year old, so she didn’t understand what was happening. As long as I fed her on time, and maintained her routine, she didn’t much care where we lived. She did need a roof over her head and I didn’t have housing figured out.
My hands trembled as I followed Tank through the Devil’s Fury clubhouse. Until the second trimester of my pregnancy, I hadn’t even known him, or his wife. Emmie had become a good friend since then, and when I’d heard what the Devil’s Fury wanted to accomplish, I knew I needed to be a part of it.
“Let me do the talking,” Tank said. “You’ll know when you need to speak up.”
“All right. I won’t get in trouble for being here?” I asked, looking around.
“No. You’re with me, and that’s enough. Only my brother is expecting me, so we may not get a warm reception when we first walk in. Their bark is worse than their bite, at least where women are concerned. Just don’t fuck up and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Right. Because that didn’t make chills skate down my spine. Exactly what would they do to me if I did fuck up? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Tank pushed open some double doors and strolled inside with me on his heels.
“Don’t start the party without me,” Tank said, a smile in his voice.
A man stood at the head of the table, and I assumed he was the club President. I didn’t know much about the way a place like this worked, but Tank’s wife had gone over the basics. I eyed the man’s cut. Badger — President. Yep, I’d been right. I tried to hide the way my hands trembled and hoped no one realized I was out of my depth right now.
“Motherfucker,” Badger muttered. “I should gut you for barging into Church uninvited.”
My stomach clenched and I gave Tank the side-eye. I hoped he was right about these men not getting angry and taking it out on me. I’d defend myself, but I doubted I was much of a match for the guys in the room. And gut him? Did he mean literally?
“Technically, I had an invitation from your VP, and I come bearing gifts.” He reached over and yanked me from where I’d stood partially behind him. I winced and wanted to rub my arm. “Meet Glory.”
“We don’t allow club whores in Church,” one of them said. I eyed his cut. Demon — Sgt. at Arms. Same rank as Tank. Which meant I needed to toe the line, according to Emmie. However, I’ve never been good at doing what I should.
Tank winced and I felt my face flush. A club whore? That’s what they thought? I wanted to scan my clothes, thinking maybe I’d dressed wrong. No. Jeans and a heather gray tee. Nothing overtly sexy about what I had on. In fact, my shirt was even on the loose side.
Anger sparked inside me. Emmie had explained what the club whores were, and how these men didn’t respect them, not even a little. They used them and tossed them aside. And this asshole thought I was a club whore?
I jabbed a finger in Demon’s direction and snarled. “I’m not a fucking club whore. You try to put your dick anywhere near me, I’ll rip it off.”
Badger sat and leaned back in his chair, apparently settling for the show. I hoped like hell there wouldn’t be one. I’d been warned not to let these men push me around and at the same time, I had to act respectful. It was a fine line, and I hoped I didn’t cross it. Even though being around men still scared the crap out of me at times, I didn’t want them to think I was too soft. They needed to know I could handle myself in this world. If I couldn’t prove myself to them, I could be asked to leave.
Demon stared down his nose at me.
“First off, I have a woman so I wouldn’t want my dick anywhere near you. Second, you point at me again, and I’ll –”
Badger cleared his throat and shook his head, giving Demon a look that clearly said shut up. The Sergeant-at-Arms clamped his lips shut and glared at me. I folded my arms and stared back, faking way more bravery than I actually had. I hoped no one noticed I was shaking.
“Introduce Glory, Tank,” someone else said.
“Glory has a four-year degree in biology and was accepted into medical school. She only attended for one semester before she had to quit and stay home,” Tank said.
“Why did you have to quit?” another man asked. Blades was stitched on his cut.
“Fuck that. She doesn’t even look old enough to be out of high school.” The man partway down the table leaned forward, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “No offense.”
I looked up at Tank, knowing this was the moment he’d mentioned. The time I’d knew I needed to speak. They needed to hear my story, understand why I was here and why I needed to help in any way I could. I faced the table of men.
“I graduated high school when I was fourteen, then finished my four-year degree in three years. I was seventeen when I was accepted into medical school. The reason I dropped out is personal, but considering why I’m here, I’ll share it with you. I was walking across campus one night when two guys dragged me off into the bushes. They hit me several times, nearly knocking me out, then took turns raping me.”
I scanned the room, stopping on each brother for a few seconds before moving on to the next. I dared for one single man to utter anything about me deserving it, or any other bullshit I’d already heard a million times since the incident. Several gazed back at me with sympathy. Others looked furious, but I didn’t think it was at me. No, I thought they wanted to track down the two men who’d hurt me, and if I had names for them, I’d gladly let them do their worst. I doubted I was their first, or their last, victim.
“I have a daughter as a consequence of that night. No one found me for thirty-six hours, and by the time I was treated, it was too late for the morning-after pill to be as effective. They treated me for STDs and sent me on my way.” I took a breath and my fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. “My parents threw me out when I refused to have an abortion. Sienna, my daughter, is developmentally delayed but she’s an angel. No matter how she was conceived, I’m lucky to be her mom.”
“You dropped out to take care of your kid or because you were scared to be on campus?” another man asked. I checked for a name, needing to make sure I could recognize these men later. Ripper.
“A little of both,” I admitted. “I’m eighteen, in case anyone wondered. Almost nineteen. Tank heard about your project to help rape victims and thought of me. We met at the OB-GYN when I was there for a check-up during my pregnancy, and I spilled my story to his wife.”
The VP, Slash, narrowed his gaze at Tank. “Anything I need to know, brother?”
Tank shook his head. “Got a vasectomy when the girls were about two years old. Those three are more than enough. We were just there for a routine thing. Emmie didn’t want to go alone.”
“You want to help as what? Medical staff?” Badger asked me.
“After having been the victim of two rapists, I can understand where these women are emotionally and mentally,” I said. “I have enough training to help with the basics, but you’d still need a licensed doctor or nurse practitioner. I’m CPR certified, and I’ve been taking some online nursing classes. I just haven’t been able to do the hands-on part because of Sienna.”
“She’ll need a place to stay,” Tank said. “Any objections to letting her use one of the apartments?”
“They only have one bedroom,” Ripper said. “She needs more space if she has a daughter.”
I wanted to smile. These men had no idea the conditions I’d been dealing with since finding out I was pregnant. A one bedroom behind a fence? Seemed more like paradise to me. Having two bedrooms was a luxury, and not one I necessarily needed. As long as I had a roof over our heads, could keep Sienna cool in the summer or warm in the winter, and keep us both fed nothing else mattered.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
Helen — I’ve made some bad choices. The worst was falling for a man who kidnapped me and held me hostage. He wants my baby. There’s no way he’s getting it without a fight.
Trucker — The small redhead blows me away, and not only because of the knife sticking out of her very pregnant belly. She’s fierce and brave as any member of Bones. I know I have to protect her and her kid with my very life. Once the asshole who did this is dead, then I’ll prove to her why I’m the best choice to be her man.
Vicious (Salvation’s Bane MC 1)
Lucrecia: Me and my sister Mae were on our own until Rycks from Black Reign, one of Lake Worth’s most infamous MCs, takes us in. When Mae is kidnapped, Rycks sends me to Palm Beach and Salvation’s Bane.
Vicious: I might be falling for the little dancer in my care. Not that I’ll ever admit it. We’ll pull out all the stops to rescue Mae. Salvation’s Bane. Bones. Shadow Demons. Hell, even Black Reign. Busting Mae out of some rich banker’s estate will be a piece of cake. No worries. Yeah. Right…
**WARNING** Graphic language and violence. The men of Bones MC and Salvation’s Bane don’t play by the rules. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect the women they love.
“Helen and Trucker. And a baby. For me, it was the little things he did for her that just stole my heart. The highlight for me was when Helen goes from not trusting him to falling in love with him. That kind of change takes time… he was also sweet, understanding, and proud that his woman is strong. Trucker is fast, quick read that will tug at your heart strings while satisfying your urge to read an MC Romance.”
Trucker rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right where you fuckin’ left it, you bastard!” He had no idea who was calling out, but it didn’t much matter to Trucker. It was all pretty much the same every time a member of the club needed a vehicle other than their own bike. He’d long ago given up being really angry. Besides, it was all part of the camaraderie.
“Ain’t you in charge of all the vehicles around here?”
“Yep. Ain’t no Goddamned babysitter though. And I ain’t your Goddamned housekeeper! You take somethin’, you can damned well put it back where you found it.”
“Fucker!”
Trucker continued working on the bike in his shop, a grin tugging at his lips. The men of Bones could act like kids sometimes. It was all part of the fun. They’d had several close calls recently, and the whole of Bones needed to have a little fun.
That was the beauty of Bones. They’d started out as an MC club of men. Now, they were becoming a family complete with wives and children. Trucker was gratified to see Cain and Torpedo encouraging the change. Oh, they still sometimes skirted the edge of legality and wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done to protect their own people, but now they did more toward protecting their community. Their reputation was mostly enough to keep out the rabble who thought they’d just run roughshod through Somerset. The ones who weren’t as afraid as they should be soon learned to be.
Thirty minutes later, Torpedo, their vice-president, came into his shop. “Seriously, Trucker. Where’s the fuckin’ RV?”
Trucker didn’t look up from his task. “In the barn where I intend to service it when I get done servicing the bikes in here.”
“Not that RV, the other one.”
He looked up. “The ‘80 Winnebago?”
“Yeah. Couple of the prospects wanted to go huntin’. I told them they could take that one. Figured if they trashed it, you wouldn’t have to kill them over it.”
Trucker snorted but went back to work. “You know better. They take it out, they bring it back like they found it. With everything clean. Including the fuckin’ toilet.”
“Not a problem. Except, we can’t find it.”
“It’s in the other bay in the barn. Serviced it for Cheetah a couple weeks ago. She always puts things back where they belong. Must be the absence of the Y chromosome.”
“Cheetah?”
Trucker paused, looking up at Torpedo. “Yeah. Said she needed it. Didn’t see no reason not to let her have it. Didn’t think she was gonna be out this long, but ain’t none of my business. And I know I saw her just a few days ago.”
“Hmm. Well, it’s gone.”
Trucker shrugged. “Give her a call. See what she’s got goin’ on. She called first dibs though. Ain’t tellin’ her she’s got to come back, and neither are you or any of the others.”
“Hey. I had no intention. She may not be a patched member, but she’s done good by the club and ExFil.”
“Text her. Make sure she actually has it. I’d hate to have to start the fuckin’ day with a killin’ if that fucker Pig took it.”
“I thought Stunner took care of that little fuck?”
“He did. Boy seems to have responded to brute force more than all the fuckin’ talkin’ and smacks upside the head in the world.”
“Good thing Mama was able to patch him up. I was worried about the fucker for a while there.”
Trucker shrugged. “He’d been asking for it for a while. Guess him mouthin’ off to little Suzie wasn’t the worst thing he did, but maybe it will be the last.”
“Boy can’t even look at Stunner without shivering.” Torpedo laughed. “It’s funny as shit.”
“He got what he deserved. I just hope he learns from it.”
“Sent a text. Though, I don’t remember seeing Cheetah today. She’s probably got the thing parked at some community event. Wasn’t there a fun run today? She usually makes hot chocolate and coffee, or lemonade and iced tea for things like that.”
“Good point.” Trucker took out his phone and sent off a quick text to Cheetah behind Torpedo’s before shoving it back in his pocket. She might ignore one text for a few minutes, but not two.
“Bikes look good?” Torpedo nodded to the line of six bikes Trucker was servicing.
“Yep. Routine stuff.” Trucker pointed to Torpedo’s bike. “You could go a little easier on the brakes.”
Torpedo grinned at him. “Now, what fun would that be?”
“No fun if you end up on the pavement.”
“True that.”
Torpedo turned to go, but Trucker called to him. “Let me know when you find Cheetah and my RV.” He didn’t have to wait long. Trucker actually heard the old Winnebago long before he saw the thing.
Picking up a rag to wipe off the wrench he was using, Trucker walked outside his workshop into the brisk, February air. Off in the distance, screaming up the long driveway to the clubhouse, was the missing RV.
“What the everlasting fuck? Torpedo!”
“I see it, Trucker.” Torpedo was just outside the building talking with Bohannon, Sword, and Viper.
“Is that Cheetah?”
“Don’t know. Comin’ in hot though.”
“Look out!”
The Winnebago made a sharp turn and slid to a halt next to the clubhouse in the parking lot. Several men jumped out of the way. A few seconds later, the door to the back flew open. Cheetah stumbled out.
“We need Mama! Help!”
The men headed for the RV. Bohannon yelled for Luna, his woman, to go for Mama and Pops. Trucker ran for the RV along with the others. Something made him… uncomfortable. There was a tingle between his shoulder blades that always meant there was something wrong. What it could possibly be, Trucker couldn’t imagine. Not in their home territory. Cheetah had brought the RV into their clubhouse, so he doubted she’d brought danger to their door.
An ear-piercing shriek came from inside the Winnebago. A woman? The men looked at each other before Bohannon, who was closest, shoved Cheetah out of the way and entered the vehicle. Trucker was right behind him. What he saw froze his blood.
There was a table that folded down into a bed across from the stove and counter. On that bed lay a very pregnant woman who had been stabbed in the abdomen. He knew she’d been stabbed because the knife handle was still sticking out. The blade appeared to have been stabilized, probably by Cheetah, but the wound was steadily and persistently dripping blood onto the thin mattress and down to the floor.
Sweat beaded the young woman’s face, strands of dark auburn hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her expression was one of pain, fear, and grief. Her gaze locked with Trucker’s, sea-green eyes sparkling like diamonds with her tears. “Help me. Please.” Her voice was tremulous. Her lips quivered as tears coursed from her eyes down her temples.
“What the fuck happened here?” Bohannon demanded as he checked the small area for anyone else.
“What’s it look like?” Cheetah bit out. “She’s been fucking stabbed! Get her to Mama!”
Trucker couldn’t seem to move. He was caught in some kind of web as he continued to stare into the young woman’s eyes. He couldn’t register much other than the brilliant green of her eyes and the red blood staining her clothing around the knife.
“Get her inside,” Bohannon ordered. “Luna’s gettin’ Mama, but she can’t do anything out here. Not enough room.”
When Bohannon moved to the girl, Trucker shouldered his way in front of his brother, carefully scooping her up into his arms. Her hands were covered in blood, one shaking horribly where it fluttered close to the knife. He could tell she wanted it out but knew better than to just yank.
“Easy,” he said, as he turned sideways to get them out of the small door. With his size and her advanced pregnancy, they barely fit, and he had to be careful not to jar her too much with that knife stuck in her abdomen. “Just relax if you can. We’ll get you taken care of.”
“No police,” she gasped.
Trucker looked up sharply at Cheetah as he got them in firm ground, out of the RV. She just shook her head before falling into step behind them. Later. He’d deal with that later. Getting the girl to Mama was the main concern at the moment.
“They call me Trucker,” he said as he strode up to the clubhouse in long, confident strides. “What’s your name, little miss?”
“Helen.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
I hate bullies. Gymnastics moms are the worst, too. So when a girl who looks no older than the kids with the overbearing mothers steps in to take over, I’m more than a little skeptical. Her name is, of all things, Kitty, and I’ve been watching her from a distance. I just didn’t realize she was a highly trained athlete in the body of a young, beguiling, innocent woman. Everything about her calls to my protective instincts. Especially when I find her putting herself in the hands of the very tormentor who broke my sister.
One thing Tobias had decided over the last few weeks was that little girls ought to be able to be little girls. Oh, and gymnastics moms were bitches.
Like right now. There was a busty redhead yelling at a kid who looked like she was maybe in her late teens. Tall with flame-orange hair, the girl looked like she was on the verge of crying. Which pissed Tobias the fuck off. He wanted to punch the bitch in the face. Let her take a fall. Maybe she’d find out the fucking mat wasn’t so fucking soft when she landed.
Just as he was about to intervene — it was his Goddamned gym in the first fucking place — another girl inserted herself between the two. This girl looked close to the same age. Slight of build, she carried herself with confidence. It was the only indication she might be older than a teenager. Her mahogany-colored hair was braided into a long, thick tail at the back of her head that fell almost to her hips. It was what gave her away.
Kitty was obviously very good with the kids, but she also seemed to be an accomplished gymnast on her own. Not much bigger than the orange-haired kid, she had more muscle in her legs and arms, though she was much shorter than the adult redhead. She talked to the older woman for a moment, smiling a megawatt smile, seeming to smooth things over. The older woman backed off, but shook her finger at the young girl once before turning back to the mothers’ area.
Tobias watched as the two girls interacted for a while, Kitty obviously giving some pointers before putting a hand on the other girl’s shoulder and urging her back to the large, square spring floor. Tobias had no idea how they kept everyone from slamming into each other, but each gymnast seemed to have his or her own section, depending on what they were working on. He watched for several minutes while the two girls went through some moves, then Kitty encouraged the other one to do the skill she’d previously fallen on. Immediately, Tobias could see how the stuff they’d worked on for a scant few minutes fit with the skill the kid was trying to learn. She stumbled a little on the landing, but she didn’t fall on her face, and it was obvious she was pleased with the change.
The orange-haired kid jumped up and down, clapping her hands, and threw herself into Kitty’s arms. They both laughed for a few seconds before the girl did the skill again. Then again. Repetition was a staple of gymnastics.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d taken on this responsibility. He’d volunteered to hire a decent coach and install the recommended equipment. Not high-end, but sturdy and competition legal. Three days a week, he opened the gym for the coach and her band of tumblers. They ranged in age from about five or six to high-school boys and girls. Classes were free to the students through level seven. Everything beyond that was preparation for elite-level gymnastics, which he knew from previous experience was basically Olympic level. Professionals. This coach said she didn’t teach that level, and most of the kids were just that. Kids. Either in cheerleading or school gymnastics. Even though Salvation’s Bane had discovered she was trying to break into elite gymnastics, they paid the coach for her time and gave her a decent, rent-free place for her students to train. In return, Bane used the place as a tax write-off and sometimes, occasionally, every once in a very little while, laundered money when they were paid for some paramilitary operation inside the US without permission. Happened from time to time when Thorn took jobs outside of ExFil, the security company run by the president of their sister club, Bones. Or something like that. Tobias didn’t do tax shit. He punched things.
The reason Tobias had taken on this responsibility was twofold. First, he wanted control over the remodel of the building. He was the instructor for any police or military organization they trained, so he wanted a say in what it was OK to change. Second? Yeah. He really hated gymnastics moms. Always had. In his opinion, they were worse than Little League dads and pageant moms. They pushed these tiny little girls into doing things they could — and often did — hurt themselves doing. Tobias saw it as his mission in life to make sure any mom who was out-of-bounds got called out. Dads didn’t seem to be as bad, but there were one or two. The come-to-Jesus meetings had been swift and eye opening for those men.
As he watched, the two girls continued until Kitty encouraged the younger one to continue on her own. Kitty gave a little wave and went to the balance beam and started working out, stretching and doing handstands and such on the narrow surface. The younger girl’s mother, instead of praising the girl like Tobias thought she should, gestured wildly at her, obviously displeased about something. Fucking bitch.
Tobias made his way from his office to the stair on the balcony overlooking the massive gym. The place was three stories of open space. When he was training the guys, they built scale models on the floor to replicate urban settings or whatever they needed. Now, it was filled with local children on competitive gymnastics apparatus. He trotted down the stairs and stalked straight toward the orange-haired gymnast and her mother.
“Tobias.” The warning came from the gallery where some of the parents waited for the lessons to be concluded. Stryker gave him an exasperated look. “You can’t go beating up on women you don’t like. It’s bad for business.”
“Ain’t like we’re gettin’ money from this anyway. It’s a fuckin’ tax write-off.”
“Yeah, but we still need it. I know you’re headed to the redhead, and I’d say with good reason, but keep it down, OK? We don’t want people afraid to come here.”
“They yell at their kids like that, maybe they need to be afraid.”
“Yeah, well, if you run them off, what happens then? Be nice so the kid has a safe place to go if she needs it.”
Tobias sighed. He and Stryker always had each other’s backs. But sometimes it was a bitch when Stryker was right.
“Fuckin’ bitches are just as vicious as I remember.” Tobias still stood there, watching. The mother seemed to sense his presence and glanced in his direction. Did a double take. Then she stood up straighter, her entire focus on Tobias, her daughter and the girl’s perceived failure forgotten. She pushed her chest out and slinked his way.
“Yeah,” Stryker chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “I hear ya. Good luck with that.”
“Wait. You leaving?” It was all Tobias could do not to burst out in a maniacal laugh. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the woman. More that he was afraid of what he’d do to the bitch if he had to be in her company more than a few seconds.
“Only stepped in to calm your tits. How you proceed from here is all you, brother.”
“Fucker.”
As the woman approached him — eyefucking the living hell out of him — it took everything in Tobias not to take a step back away from her. The only thing making him stand his ground was his Marine pride. No gymnastic-mom bitch was making this Marine retreat.
“Hello there,” she purred. Perfectly manicured nails reached for his chest. Before she could touch his shirt, however, Tobias caught her wrist. A not-so-subtle hint she shouldn’t touch him. “I don’t remember seeing you around. I’m Madonna.” She glanced behind him, not making an effort to hide what she was doing. “Where’d your friend go?”
“None of your fuckin’ business.” Rude, but Tobias wasn’t in the mood.
Red just shrugged. “His loss, but no matter.” She gave him a carnivorous smile. “You’re still here. We could…” She trailed off, her smile going even wider, “pass the time in private until my daughter’s finished for the day. Could take a few hours.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
Hayley — Having both a father and brother who are in law enforcement, and overprotective, doesn’t make it easy to date. Which is why I was still a virgin at eighteen and had never had a serious boyfriend. If I’d realized chasing Cuddles through the biker compound would result in the hottest night of my life, I might have fixed my hair and dressed a little better. Not that Hawk seemed to mind. He made my knees weak and blew my mind. I just didn’t realize the night would end with a free gift with purchase — one that’s an eighteen-year-long commitment.
Hawk — Never thought I’d make it to the age of forty without ever finding someone special. But I did. Then I met Hayley. She’s the last woman I should fall for, but I can’t seem to help myself. Too bad I figured it out after she disappeared. If I’d known our one night had repercussions, I’d have tried harder to find her. Finding out I have a daughter is the best and scariest thing, but it means I get what I want most. A family.
WARNING: Hawk is part of the Reckless Kings MC series and contains scenes of graphic violence and adult relationships, a couple who just can’t seem to get it right, a troublesome raccoon, and some well-meaning meddlesome bikers who aren’t above causing a bit of mischief.
I leaned against the back of the Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse, enjoying a cigarette and a little alone time. We’d been here two days with Beast and his woman. I understood the reason behind the trip to Alabama, but I was ready to get back home. Nothing against the Reapers, but the men with old ladies only wanted to do family-oriented shit and the single ones were all about the free pussy in the clubhouse. I’d have preferred the middle of the road. Or maybe I was getting old. The women in the clubhouse only wanted to sink their teeth into someone in hopes of getting claimed.
Nothing against the club whores, but they didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting claimed by me. I wanted a woman who looked like an angel on the outside, but clawed my back and screamed my name in the bedroom. Someone respectable to the outside world who only showed that devilish side in private. I was starting to think she was a damn unicorn and I’d never find her.
I inhaled another lungful of nicotine before letting it out. Beast had mostly given up smoking since he’d found out Lyssa was pregnant. Before that, he’d have been out here with me. I had no problem with his priorities changing, as long as he focused on the club when we needed him. But I sometimes felt like I’d lost my brother. He wasn’t down to party like he’d been before, even though he’d slowed down a bit even before Lyssa showed up.
I heard something rustling through the grass and a muttered “I’m going to kill you when I find you.” Definitely a woman’s voice. Since I doubted it was a club whore, it had to be one of the old ladies or some other family member of the Dixie Reapers. Which meant I needed to give her a wide berth.
A fat raccoon went waddling by me wearing a harness and dragging a leash. I stared at it, wondering if I’d had more to drink than I thought or if I’d gone crazy. Who the fuck leashed a raccoon?
A moment later a goddess stepped into the moonlight. Cut-off shorts clung to her like a second skin, and the tank she had on left little to the imagination. Her long, blonde hair fell in curls nearly to her waist.
“I swear to God, Cuddles, I’m going to turn you into a fur muff when I catch you.”
I nearly choked as I tried to hold back a laugh. Cuddles? She might be beautiful, but she was damn sure peculiar if she’d made a pet of that raccoon and named it something so ridiculous. Oddly, I found her intriguing, even if she was crazy as a bedbug.
I watched her stomp past me, mesmerized by the sway of her ass. The shorts barely covered her ass cheeks, and fuck if I wasn’t jealous of them for getting to cup the tempting globes. I reached down to adjust myself, my cock getting uncomfortably hard.
“Cuddles? Cuddles! Goddamnit! We’re not supposed to be in here to begin with. Are you trying to get me killed?” She huffed and stamped her foot.
“Need some help, beautiful?” I asked, pushing away from the wall and stepping out of the shadows.
She whirled to face me, hand at her throat, and her blue eyes wide. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Hawk. My club is here visiting the Dixie Reapers. I think the question is who are you?”
She folded her arms, like she was trying to hold herself together. Her lips pressed together, and she glanced away. It was clear she didn’t want to give me her name, which made me want to know even more.
“Guess I should go get Tank,” I said. “I’m sure he can spare a few men to help you find your pet.”
She jolted. “No! Wait, I… I’m not supposed to be inside the gates, but Cuddles took off and I needed to find him.”
Now we were getting somewhere.
“I’ll help you find Cuddles, on one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Your name, for one.”
She licked her lips and shifted on her feet. “Hayley. Hayley Daniels.”
“That wasn’t so painful, was it? All right, Hayley. My second condition is that you spend some time with me while my club is here.”
She jolted and took a step back. “I can’t! I… you don’t understand.”
I moved closer until I could reach out and wrap a lock of her honey-colored hair around my fingers. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“My family tolerates the Dixie Reapers, but my dad and brother will go through the roof if they find out I’m hanging around bikers. You said you’re only here visiting. Why bother spending time with me?”
“Because I find you fascinating.”
“When you say spend time… what exactly do you mean? Because if it’s sex, I don’t do one-night stands.”
“I don’t take what isn’t offered, beautiful. Just want to get to know you. Not asking for anything more.”
“All right. I need to catch Cuddles before he gets into trouble.”
I took her hand and led her farther into the darkness. I couldn’t believe I was going to spend the night chasing after a fucking raccoon. We finally found the beast, tail up in a trash can. It might have been funny, if Preacher didn’t have a gun trained on it.
“No!” Hayley screamed and took off.
Preacher swung his gun toward her before seeing me and lowering the weapon. “Christ, Hawk. All those women at the clubhouse and you had to go and find the most innocent girl in town? What the hell are you doing inside the compound, Hayley? Your dad and brother know you’re here?”
“Not exactly,” she said, reaching into the trash and pulling out her pet. She gripped the leash when she set Cuddles on the ground. The raccoon reached up and wrapped its front paws around her leg, brushing his head against her. “Cuddles ran off. He came in here and I had to catch him.”
Preacher ran a hand over his head. “Who the fuck is on the damn gate tonight?”
She danced from foot to foot again. “Spencer.”
Preacher rolled his eyes. “Of-fucking-course. Naturally he let you waltz right in without telling anyone.”
I glanced from Preacher to Hayley and back again. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means Spencer would do anything for Hayley. They were best friends until he started to prospect for us. Her brother had a shit fit and read Spencer the riot act, forbidding him to go anywhere near Hayley.”
“Your brother sounds like an asshole,” I said.
Hayley snickered. “You’re not wrong. He has a god complex.”
“Take Cuddles and get the fuck out of here, Hayley. We don’t need your dad and brother putting us under a microscope. We may be more legit these days, but old habits die hard.”
She gave a jerky nod, picked up her pet, and walked off. I watched her a moment before deciding to follow. I tried to tell myself we’d made a deal and she needed to uphold her end. I had to wonder if it was more. I hadn’t liked the idea of her and some punk ass wannabe being close. No, if she was going to have a biker between her thighs, it would be me.
I was starting to understand how Beast had fallen so hard and fast for his woman. Seeing Hayley tramp through the compound, chasing a raccoon of all things, something inside me had twisted into a pretzel. I didn’t like the feeling in my gut, or the way my heart beat a little faster in her presence.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe and make them mine. No one will take them from me.
Kraken (Hades Abyss MC 4 — Mississippi Chapter) Phoebe — Kraken is different from any man I’ve ever met. He’s more than a decade older than me, but I don’t care. I know the Sadistic Saints will never let me go, but I’ll risk it all to be with Kraken.
Kraken — Never counted on finding a single mom trapped in a life she didn’t ask for. Taking her with me means war, but there’s no way I’ll walk out of here without her. Phoebe’s mine, so is her daughter, Ember, and I’ll spill as much blood as I deem necessary to protect my family. No one will take them from me.
Demon (Devil’s Fury MC 6) Farrah — I knew what it would mean if I flirted with the Devil’s Fury Sergeant-at-Arms. Leave it to me to find trouble around every corner. I’m not winning at the adulting thing.
Demon — She was a one-night stand, until the condom broke. Then I found out she lied to me. The hot little number in my bed is the daughter of a Dixie Reaper. Now I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe, and I’ll make her mine — permanently.
I left my room with Joe’s hand on my ass, and made my way to the main part of the clubhouse. I’d been right about the party getting out of control. Naked women paraded through the area, smashed bottles crunched under my feet, and smoke hung heavy in the air. I doubted they were smoking cigarettes, or at least not only that. Three men sat at the bar with colors from another club — Hades Abyss MC was stitched on the rockers. I ran my hands down my short skirt and took a breath to steady my nerves. At least with Deuce and his crew, I knew what to expect. These guys were an unknown.
Then again, after surviving my first night here, I could live through anything.
“Get moving, whore,” Joe said, shoving me from behind.
I stumbled and made my way over to the bar. Deuce had his head thrown back, laughing his ass off at something they said. His eyes lit with an unholy fire as he saw me approaching. The smirk on his lips made my stomach flip and knot. It never meant anything good.
“Here she is, boys. The best I have to offer. The three of you are welcome to take her to the playroom, or just have your fun with her out here,” Deuce said. “The rest of us wouldn’t mind watching.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and plastered a smile on my face. “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”
“She’ll treat you real good,” Deuce said. The look he cast my way clearly said there would be hell to pay if I didn’t. “She’ll do anything you want.”
The man closest to me turned and my breath caught at how striking he was. Handsome didn’t seem to do him justice. Ink covered his arms and peeked from the neck of his shirt. His beard wasn’t wild like Deuce’s but trimmed neatly and the perfect length. I scanned his cut and saw his name: Kraken — Sgt at Arms. He blocked the others from my view and I wondered if they were officers too.
“They’re here for business,” Deuce said. “Why don’t you take them and show them all a good time?”
“No offense, but we don’t like sharing,” one of the others said. “If she’s your best, let Kraken have her.”
The biker stood and held out his hand. My palm slid against Kraken’s rougher one and shivers raked my spine. I’d never met anyone who looked at me the way he did. I could drown in his gaze. He led me down the hall and my heart slammed against my ribs. He drew me to a stop in the middle of the hallway and I wondered if he wanted to start here. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d been shoved to my knees or backed against the wall.
“Where’s your room?” he asked.
My… No. No, no, no. We couldn’t go in there. It felt like someone tightened their hand around my throat. My heart raced, and my knees nearly gave out.
“Not my room.”
He looked down at me, pinning me in place with his gaze. “You got something to hide?”
“I…”
His grip tightened on my hand and my eyes went wide as I sucked in a breath. Pain shot through my wrist and up my arm. I whimpered and he loosened his hold, but dragged me farther down the hallway. He stopped in front of the last three doors, eyeing each one. I dug in my heels when he opened the one to my room.
“No, we can’t… please!”
He yanked me into the room, but the moment he saw the crib in the corner, he froze. “What the fuck?”
“Please. I’ll do whatever you want, but not in here. Not near my baby.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You look like a damn kid yourself and you have a baby? In a clubhouse?”
“You didn’t care a minute ago how young I look,” I said. I inwardly winced and wondered if he would hit me. Deuce had, and for much less. This guy was visiting the Sadistic Saints, and held rank in his club. Now wasn’t the time for me to be mouthy.
“I don’t fuck kids. I figured if you were out there on offer, you must be legal, but now I’m not so sure. Don’t know a single damn club who lets a whore keep a kid in her room. Start talking, girl. How old are you? Why the hell are you here?”
I sucked in a breath, wondering if I could trust him. He hadn’t tried to force himself on me, or demand I drop to my knees. It made him different from the men who’d come here before. I could be wrong. What if Deuce sent him here to gain my trust, see if I was loyal?
He moved in closer and tipped my chin up. “Baby girl, talk to me. You aren’t like the others, are you? Girls like you, especially with little babies, don’t live like this. You’re a pretty little thing, look sweet as sugar.”
I licked my lips and glanced away. “If Deuce walks by or sends someone else and they don’t hear us having sex, it won’t end well for me. Just… tell me what you like. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You want to have sex?” he asked.
I gave a slight nod.
“Really? Want a good hard fucking?” He moved in closer, pressing against me.
I swallowed hard and waited. He reached for me, sliding his hand up under my skirt, wedging it between my thighs. He stroked my panties and I tried not to lock up or run.
“You’re not wet. Makes me think you don’t want me after all.”
“No! I… I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”
He backed me against the wall. “Again, start talking, pretty girl. Why are you here? Because I wasn’t patched in yesterday. You’re no fucking club whore.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
“Her characters are phenomenal and have a lot of depth to them. She is absolutely fantastic at writing an engaging sexy story. Harley Wylde keeps the words flowing so that you have to turn the page to see what happens next.”– All Author Interview
Glitter: Yes, that’s my real name. Born stripper name, I know. I’ve been on my own since I was 14. When I tried to get a job with Salvations Bane MC at their strip club, Salvation’s Angels, their security saw right through my fake ID. Lucky for me, the club sent me to Beach Fit, their fitness club, until I turned 18. Now I work at Angels, and the crowd here loves me. Stryker’s still looking out for me. For some reason he thinks I’m a magnet for trouble. Now that I’ve got his full attention, I know what I want, and I’m going to prove him right.
Stryker: We try our best to keep things at the club legit. Last thing we need is an underage dancer attracting too much attention. OK, so she’s legal now, has been for nearly two years, but that girl’s everything this old man doesn’t need — and can’t afford. But there’s another club encroaching on our territory, setting up a BDSM club on the other side of town, as a front to run drugs. Now I’ve got word there’s even more going on at The Dark than drugs. I was right. And who do I find right in the middle of it but Glitter. Only, she’s not involved with the thugs at The Dark. She’s their prisoner — a sub who has no idea what it means to be a sub, but she thinks she wants to learn.
Challenge issued? Challenge ’effin accepted.
WARNING: This book contains scenes of an intense physical relationship between an older man and a younger woman, as well as extreme, graphic violence. These men aren’t angels and neither are the women. They love as hard as they fight. As always, you can expect a HEA with No Cheating.
There was no possible way for Stryker to ignore the little pixie dancer twirling around the pole half naked. He’d been watching her every fucking night she’d worked for a couple of months now, unable to take his focus someplace else. Glitter was not a woman he’d normally pursue. She was too innocent for the likes of him. He’d known it from the moment she plopped herself down in the chair across from his desk and told him her name was Glitter. And that, yes, that was her real name. Laugh at his own peril.
But here he was. Prowling the main room at Salvation’s Angels instead of checking on things over at the Playground. So he could watch Glitter’s set. Or, more accurately, so he could watch Glitter. Period.
The girl haunted his dreams. She wasn’t what one would call a classic beauty, but she had a force of personality that everyone she met loved and wanted to soak up. When she danced on stage, she was a temptress. When she played off stage, she was like a little kitten. Stryker wasn’t normally attracted to the bubbly type, but Glitter was more than just her personality. He had no idea why, but underneath the sex appeal he sensed a vulnerable woman. There were times when Stryker could see her scanning the room when she thought no one was watching and she just looked… tired. Especially when she had to mediate one squabble or another with the girls in the dressing room. It was that vulnerability that fascinated Stryker and made him want Glitter with everything in him.
Well, tonight he was going to have her. He was a patched member of Salvation’s Bane, and she was an employee at Salvation’s Angels. They weren’t supposed to fraternize with each other, but Stryker wasn’t above bending a few rules. Thorn might kick his a** if he found out he’d f**ked the bubbly little dancer, but it would be worth it. And any man who wouldn’t risk the wrath of his president to sample a woman didn’t want to taste her bad enough.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
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