by Chiah Wilder
Allegiance
Nomad Biker Romance Series
Chiah Wilder
Contents
1. Tank
2. Lena
3. Lena
4. Lena
5. Lena
6. Lena
7. Tank
8. Tank
9. Lena
10. Lena
11. Tank
12. Lena
13. Lena
14. Lena
15. Tank
16. Lena
17. Tank
18. Tank
19. Lena
20. Tank
21. Lena
22. Tank
Epilogue
Notes from Chiah
CROW: Night Rebels MC
Forgiveness: Nomad Biker Romance
Retribution: Nomad Biker Romance
Smokey’s Distraction: Insurgents MC
Other Books by Chiah Wilder:
Allegiance: Nomad Biker Romance
Copyright © 2021 by Chiah Wilder
Editing by Dana Hood
Cover design by Cheeky Covers
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Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Insurgent MC Series:
Hawk’s Property
Jax’s Dilemma
Chas’s Fervor
Axe’s Fall
Banger’s Ride
Jerry’s Passion
Throttle’s Seduction
Rock’s Redemption
An Insurgent’s Wedding
Outlaw Xmas
Wheelie’s Challenge
Christmas Wish
Animal’s Reformation
Shadow’s Surrender
Smokey’s Distraction
Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 1 – 4)
Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 5 – 8)
Night Rebels MC Series:
STEEL
MUERTO
DIABLO
GOLDIE
PACO
SANGRE
ARMY
CHAINS
Night Rebels MC Romance Series: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club Box Set (Book 1 – 4)
Nomad Biker Romance Series:
Forgiveness
Retribution
Steamy Contemporary Romance:
My Sexy Boss
Created with Vellum
Tank
Tank observed the party he’d been dreading for weeks. For all he cared, the chatty guests in summer suits and shimmering cocktail dresses; the loud, dull music; the bright lights from the chandelier flooding out the candlelight; and the thin woman in a barely there dress with big lips and bigger breasts sauntering in his direction, could disappear in a puff of smoke.
The blonde flashed him a smile, showing her impossibly white teeth. That’s my cue. Lifting one corner of his mouth in a weak half-smile, he turned and made his way through the crowd, in need of a drink.
Gripping the gray laminate bar top, he ordered a bourbon and waited patiently while an animated group of women pushed up against him.
Once the drink was placed in front of him, he dug in his pocket and dropped a few singles into the tip jar. Pushing his way through the line of guests waiting to place their orders, he found a spot away from the crowd and took a deep draw of his drink, savoring the fiery smooth taste.
A pat on the back drew Tank’s attention. Spinning around, a wide grin spread across his face when he saw one of his best friends.
“I see you found the bar,” Dawson said, bumping Tank’s fist with his.
He lifted the glass. “I always do.”
“When did you get here?”
“Not too long ago. I didn’t expect so many people.”
Dawson laughed. “Me neither, but Tabby and her mother wanted a big bash. If it had been up to me, I’d have cut the list way down.”
“Get used to not having a say in shit once you get hitched.” Tank threw back the rest of the bourbon and stared at his friend. “Are you sure about deleting those dating apps and shutting out all the other chicks, buddy? It’s not too late to back out.”
“I’m not looking to back out.”
“It’s ’cause you’re thinking with your dick. I know how that goes.” When Dawson grew quiet, Tank cleared his throat. “My history with marriage isn’t much to go by, but—”
“This is my engagement party, dude. I think it’s a little late for the buyer beware bullshit. I know what I’m doing, and I’m good. Be happy for me.” Dawson squeezed Tank’s shoulder and grinned, looking him dead in the eyes. “Your history consists of one woman, one divorce, and you let that experience keep you from taking a chance on finding the one. So Trish wasn’t it. You guys were young, so give yourself a break.”
“Doesn’t excuse what happened, does it?”
“You grew as a person, didn’t you?”
Tank winked at him. “Easy, there. You’re sounding like some fuckin’ daytime talk show shrink.”
Snorting, Dawson rolled his eyes. “One bad experience doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever have. That’s just loaded wisdom I’m trying to impart to you. If you could find someone like Tabby, you’d know instantly that all the BS you went through before doesn’t matter.”
“Well, all I can say is, I hope your marriage turns out better than mine did.” Tank bumped Dawson’s shoulder with his, ignoring the bitter burn at the center of his chest. Divorce was a bitch, but so were most women. End of story.
“Tabby’s pretty special. I’m going to love making you eat your words when you meet the right one. Mark my words, bro, it’ll happen.”
“I’m not lookin’ for anything serious, so that’s not gonna happen. And besides, I’m good with the way things are.” Chuckling, he added, “There are just too many chicks to settle down with just one.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re hopeless.” Shaking his head, Dawson sighed. “Well, I guess I better go mingle. Behave, my man.” With a cheesy-ass grin, he clapped Tank on the shoulder and disappeared inside the tightly packed crowd.
Tank turned his attention to the backyard of the mansion that Tabby’s parents had rented by the beach. The view was epic, and so was everything else that came with the hefty price tag to impress their guests. Breathing in through his nose, he exhaled slowly, contemplating how much longer he’d have to endure hobnobbing with the beautiful people before it was considered polite to leave for the night.
He watched Dawson walk up to a tall blonde and wrap his arms around her. When Tabby grinned up at her fiancé, Tank chuckled, knowing full well the couple was still in their honeymoon phase. Once everything was said and done, though, nothing would be
the same. He knew that firsthand and hoped his friend was ready for the challenges ahead.
Placing his empty glass on a nearby table, he muttered, “Behave, my ass.”
Snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, he strolled out to the back.
The sweet scent of roses hung in the air, mingling with the smells of chargrilled steak and fresh baked bread flowing through an open window facing the backyard, and his stomach growled. Clutching the champagne flute, he walked back into the mansion and toward several buffet tables, each sporting ice carvings, flower arrangements, or both. A few of the waitstaff, carrying trays of appetizers, rushed by him before he could catch their attention.
“Dammit.” Tank looked at the empty buffet tables. When the fuck are they gonna serve the food? All he wanted was some chow before he hightailed it out of there.
After draining the last bit of champagne, he set the glass on the table and gazed out over the garden, gleaming under a twinkling canopy of tiny white lights. The shimmering ocean was a blaze of orange and dusky purple, the vibrant streaks of color painting the sky. At that moment, all Tank wanted to do was jump on his Harley and take a long ride down Sunrise Strand Boulevard, along the coast. Tank could almost smell the salty air and feel the warm breeze stroking his face.
“Would you like a shrimp toast hors d’oeuvres?” a waiter inquired.
“Yeah—thanks.” Tank snatched three of the appetizers from the tray and popped them into his mouth.
As he chewed, he watched Dawson, laughing and talking to a group of people who looked as though their clothes cost more than what Tank made in a month at his printing business. He wasn’t surprised his friend had married into a wealthy family. Dawson always had the golden touch when it came to making money. Tabby’s father had gone to Dawson’s law firm when a real estate problem had come up with Jerry Fitzgerald—one of the richest men in town. The guy practically owned all the real estate in Santa Teresita, and he made damn sure everyone knew it. Tank never liked the man or his family, even though he’d dated Quinn Fitzgerald, Jerry’s youngest daughter, for a short time back in high school. Quinn was the rebellious one in the family, and she loved pushing her parents’ buttons. When they were younger, hanging out with Tank was her ultimate act of rebellion. The problem was, she still wanted him as a side gig, even though they’d graduated thirteen years before. Sometimes, when the urge hit and he was tired of the club girls, he’d take Quinn up on what she was offering. But mostly, he regarded her as a spoiled, bratty pain in the ass.
Delicious smells wafted through the air. He looked behind him and saw the waitstaff setting down platters of food on the buffet tables, and a small crowd was gathering around the spread. He shoved a hand through his thick, sandy brown hair, messing up the lame hair gel he’d used that morning, and maneuvered his way through the guests. A majority of the people in his way parted as soon as he got close to them.
“Is everything good to go? Can I go to town?” Tank asked a frazzled, curly-haired waitress standing behind an array of salads, seafood, cold cuts, and cheeses.
The waitress sputtered, blushing, looking everywhere but at him. “I–I’m not sure…”
Tank smiled. “It’s not that hard of a question.”
She shrugged, then chewed on her lower lip.
A striking woman with dark brown hair interjected with, “I’m sorry, but dinner will be served after the toasts.” Her voice was smooth, like a fine glass of whiskey.
Taken aback, he stared at the olive-skinned beauty before letting his gaze trail down her body, to her gunmetal beaded ballet shoes, and then back up, lingering on her luscious cleavage in her V-neck blouse, until settling on her gold stud nose piercing.
Her lips parted, and a pink blush crept across her cheeks. Fuck. His gaze lowered to her cleavage again. When she drew in a sharp breath, her tits rose. Lust gripped his spine, shooting a jolt straight to his balls.
She cleared her throat, bringing his attention to her eyes. “The toasts shouldn’t take too long.”
He pointed to the cheese platter. “I can’t even take one of them fancy crackers? C’mon, I’m starving here.” He gave her his most beguiling smile, boyish and charming. The one that had landed him into countless beds.
Her chestnut eyes fixed on his, as if she were studying him. Finally, she crossed her arms and shook her head. “That isn’t going to work here. I’m on a strict schedule from the bride’s family, and if I so much as budge from that timetable, my staff will be overrun with a flood of guests, eliminating my chance of getting a much-needed referral.” Resting her hands on the table, she leaned toward him. “Do yourself a favor and catch one of the appetizer trays I’ve been shuffling out.”
The scent of her perfume wrapped around his libido, causing him to stand there, staring at her like a moron. Pushing his desire aside, he cocked his head to the side.
“Is that how you treat all your client’s guests?” Straightening, she held her head high. Sassy, defiant, and feisty. I like that.
“Only the ones who think I’ll bend over backward for them just because they’re good-looking and think they’re charming.” Licking her sexy lips, she held his gaze. “Do you need anything else, sir?”
“Well, you told me.” Tank chuckled as he snatched another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Her sharp tongue and quick dismissal floored him. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had come up against him like that. Usually, he was beating them off, so he had to admit, her cheekiness was a refreshing change. His eyes lowered, pausing at her throat where her pulse jumped like a frenzied rabbit, making him feel smug. Yeah, she’s fuckin’ attracted to me, and the feeling is sure as hell mutual.
“Drew?” A lilting, feminine voice chirped from over his shoulder.
Nearly choking on his drink, he turned, just as a sweet little blonde eased up to him, plastering herself to his side. Shit, he had no idea Quinn was going to be there, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Of all people, she’d never miss out on one of the social events of the summer.
Flicking her long hair over her shoulder, she looked up at him and batted her false eyelashes. The heady scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils, forcing him to wrinkle his nose.
“Hey, Quinn.”
She pursed her lips in a pout. “Where have you been all this time? I’ve been dying for a dance.”
Quinn Fitzgerald—the Princess of Santa Teresita. Fuck. He glanced over at the fiery caterer and threw her a small smile, but she quickly looked away.
Tugging on his arm, Quinn snapped, “I’m over here.”
Tank hesitated before looking down at her.
“Did you really plan to make me wait all night before you came to me?”
“I didn’t see you,” he huffed, downing the rest of his drink.
“But you knew I was going to be here. You should’ve looked for me.”
“I didn’t know shit. Anyway, I’m gonna take off after I get some food.”
She side-eyed the attractive caterer while telling him, “They’re not serving it yet, and you know how I love to dance.”
Anger crackled along his nerves. Quinn wasn’t his date, and for the past six months, Tank had been keeping her at arm’s length. He was bored with her—plain and simple. Besides, she was engaged to Mason, a hotshot investment man in L.A., but at the moment, Quinn was acting like they were dating again. And the way she was sending the keep-your-hands-off-my-man vibes to the pretty caterer was pissing him off big-time.
“One dance and that’s it,” he muttered as he pulled away from her.
“Daddy isn’t here tonight, so relax.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
Back in high school, Quinn’s father had ended their five-month relationship real fast once he’d gotten wind of what was going down between them. There was no way in hell he was going to let his precious daughter continue to see a kid from the other side of the tracks who rode a motorcycle.
Being
the rebel, Quinn kept in contact, but he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her in that way. He’d been dating Trish, and a couple of years later, the two of them got hitched. Quinn never stopped trying to contact him, but he always ignored her. Tank had his fair share of flaws, but being a cheating womanizer wasn’t one of them. He’d always been loyal to Trish, but he couldn’t say the same about her.
“Are you still with me?”
Quinn’s shrill voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about something.”
She ran a pink-tipped nail down the side of his face. “About how good we are between the sheets?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you do think of me, right?” She brushed her lips across his jaw and stepped back. “Because I think about you a lot, baby.”
“Cut that shit out.” He looked over his shoulder at the sassy woman who pretended not to be looking, but he knew she was. “We’re just friends. You know that.”
“Yeah, friends with benefits. Although, the benefits have been dry for far too long.”
He sighed. “I want to keep it at just friends. I’ve told you that before.”
He’d been crystal clear over the past six months that sex was off the table, yet here she was, plastered up against him, as if they were the ones engaged.
“We’ll always be friends.”
“You still like tripping over the wrong side of the tracks, don’t you?”
Quinn’s fingers tightened on his arm, all but yanking him toward the dance floor.
“Baby, don’t tease me. You know the night’s not complete without a dance.” She smiled up at him, her eyes shooting daggers. “Come on.”
