by Naomi West
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
Stud: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Cobra Kings MC) copyright 2017 by Naomi West. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
Stud: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Cobra Kings MC)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Books by Naomi West
He Doesn’t Care: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Motorcycle Club Romance (Fourstroke Fiends MC)
He Doesn’t Know: A Bad Boy Second Chance Baby Romance (Devil’s Route MC)
Ride Dirty: Vegas Vipers MC
Baby Blues: Satan Seed MC
Baby with the Savage: The Motor Saints MC
Baby with the Beast: Seven Sinners MC
Wild Child: The Wylde Ones MC
Diesel Daddy: Skull Riders MC
The Devil’s Baby: The Smoking Vipers MC
Pay for Her: The Warhawks MC
Axel’s Little Angel: The Rippers MC
Pistol’s Baby: The Brethren MC
Knocked Up by the Biker: The Ancestors MC
Crave: Santora Mafia
Traded: A Dark Mafia Romance
Mailing List
Stud: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Cobra Kings MC)
By Naomi West
They said I couldn’t have her. I told them to try and stop me.
The bad boy stud has wandered into dangerous territory.
MC President Bishop Blaine thought bedding a pop star would be the story of a lifetime.
He gets what he came for, and then some…
When the diva ends up pregnant with his baby.
LOLA
I thought outlaw bikers were supposed to be tall, dark, tatted—and dumb as rocks.
But Bishop Blaine is only three for four.
And unfortunately for my sake, he's managed to outsmart every member of my security team to get to me.
It’s true: he’s got his own selfish motives in mind.
Like laying his sinful, inked hands over every inch of my body.
But it turns out Bishop got to me just in time.
First, we're ducking a spray of bullets.
Then, next thing I know, he has me out back behind the bar…
Pinned to the wall beneath him, as he lets far more than his eyes travel my forbidden figure.
BISHOP
Lola is famous. Off-limits. Totally uninterested in a rebel biker like me.
Until I make things interesting for her.
Granted, I've had help.
Someone's out to kill her, and I smell a rat in her inner circle.
She can't trust those who are already closest to her, so I plan on making myself as close as possible.
I’m gonna run my filthy hands along those lush curves until I make the little pop starlet shiver and beg for more.
But I should’ve known it would all lead to trouble.
As I discover, it isn’t just a killer we have on our plate.
Because Lola turns up pregnant – and she swears the baby is mine.
This was never supposed to happen.
I’m an outlaw with a motorcycle club to run, not a whipped baby daddy to a famous actress.
Until, all of the sudden, that’s exactly what I am.
But we’re from two different worlds.
She walks red carpets and wears expensive gowns.
I ride choppers and keep my club kutte on my shoulders at all times.
Having a baby together is sheer madness.
But despite all that…
There’s something in my gut that says I have to protect these delicate creatures now – my woman and my baby.
I'm going to catch this falling star and make her mine.
And if the man hunting her thinks he’s gonna lay a finger on my family...
He’d better be ready for war.
Chapter One
Bishop
Bishop Blaine left the clubhouse with a feeling of contentment and several of his men behind him. It had been five years since the Cobra Kings had ridden into Rolling Hills. It had been just a sleepy little town where nothing ever happened, which was just the sort of place the club was looking for. They liked to shake things up a little, and this was the perfect place to do it.
Still young, and not yet a prominent member of the MC, Bishop had been excited about forming a new life in a new place. He’d left behind the dirty city streets he’d grown up on, and the town of Rolling Hills seemed to always have the sun shining on it. He, along with the other members, fully expected the constabulary to chase their dark influence away as soon as possible.
But the people of Rolling Hills had embraced the newcomers. They stayed out of the bikers’ way, but most of them seemed to realize that the Cobra Kings had put them on the map. The members were hired out occasionally to work security, and people came from other towns just so they could say they drank in a bar next to a real biker.
Pulling up to The Dive—a very aptly named bar—Bishop stepped off his bike and swaggered to the door. Now that he had worked his way up to president of the club, he might as well have owned the place. He was never charged for drinks, and there was always something happening. He charged in the door with a grin, expecting the bartender to greet him as usual.
But everyone inside was focused on the back corner. Bishop paused, frowning, as he took in the scene. The Dive was crowded with bikers and those who wanted to be bikers, but the vast majority of the crowd appeared to be young men and women. They pushed and shoved at each other as they tried to get to the very back booth, holding their phones up and taking random pictures of the wall as they targeted whatever was back there. The ruckus was so loud that even the old jukebox in the corner couldn’t compete with it.
Bishop strode up to the bar where Jimmy Stevens was absentmindedly wiping down a beer mug as he stared at the circle of chaos. “Hey!” Bishop shouted. “What’s going on?”
The bartender jumped at the president’s voice, instantly setting down the towel and filling the mug with Bishop’s favorite beer. “Sorry! I didn’t even see you come in! You’re never going to believe it. Lola Lennox is here! Right here in my bar!” There were stars in his eyes as he passed over the foamy drink.
Taking a long, slow sip without breaking his gaze from the bartender, Bishop asked, “Who?”
Sluice, the vice president of the Cobra Kings and Bishop’s right-hand man, elbowed him. “You know, that popstar chick. The one who sings all those sexy songs.”<
br />
Bishop shot him a quizzical look. “How the hell would you know?”
His dark eyes darting to the floor, Sluice shrugged. “Hey, sometimes the radio is just on, man.”
“Well, what’s some celebrity doing in a place like this?” There weren’t very many interesting places to go in Rolling Hills, but The Dive seemed like the least likely one for a young singer to visit. The crowd parted slightly, giving him a glimpse of waves of blonde hair that rested gracefully against a beautiful face. Someone moved, and the image was gone.
Jimmy shook his head, his neck still craned around to stay focused on the crowd. He was clearly just as fascinated as everyone else in the crowd. “Beats me. She just showed up with her bodyguards on either side of her and ordered a drink. I didn’t quite put two and two together until all these young kids started piling in here. They aren’t even ordering anything, and I don’t care. This is going to be big business. Maybe I can get an autographed picture of her to put on the wall, you know, like some of the big city restaurants do.” His green eyes glittered with the thought of more profit.
At the mention of bodyguards, Bishop’s eyes sorted through the crowd until they landed on two broad-shouldered men in black T-shirts and jeans. They stood between the singer’s booth and the crowd, their arms folded and their backs straight, staring straight out into space as though they didn’t see the hordes of people around them. One man was bald, a permanent frown etched on his face from years of protecting snotty celebs. The other was much younger, with a full head of dark hair and eyes to match. There was a hint of pride in his face, as though he felt the throng was there to see him.
“That one looks like a cocky ass,” Bishop remarked.
Jimmy nodded and picked up another mug to dry. “You should have seen him swagger in here like he owned the place. But hell, I’d be pretty stuck-up too if I got to spend all my time with a babe like that.”
Just then, the crowd erupted with even louder cheers and whoops as the girl stood up. She swung her long hair over her shoulder as she got out of the booth and headed for the restroom. The bodyguards did their part, holding out their strong arms to keep the crowd at bay as they escorted her partway across the bar. They then took up their usual stance on either side of the restroom door.
Bishop couldn’t help but notice just how hot this chick was. That blonde hair was natural; he could tell. Her big blue eyes had remained fixed on her destination instead of looking at any of her fans, but Bishop had still been able to see the deep cerulean of her irises. With her plump, pink lips and the slight upturn at the tip of her nose, she was gorgeous.
And that wasn’t even taking into account her body. Slim and athletic, she had graced it with a wide-shouldered crop top in black and jean shorts. She could have been anybody, just a girl next door, but everyone was going crazy over her.
“What did you say her name was again?” Bishop asked, taking another sip of beer. He was feeling a buzz come on, but it wasn’t from the alcohol.
“Lola Lennox,” Jimmy repeated. “Every chick in Rolling Hills is going to want to come piss in my restroom now. I’m going to have to get a bouncer just to check IDs at the door, cause you know they’re not all going to be 21. Fuck, I’m sure some of the ones in here right now aren’t. You got a guy who needs a part-time job?” He finally turned away from the crowd to look at Bishop.
“I’m sure we do.” Bishop could arrange it easily, but that wasn’t the strategy that was on his mind. He’d already had every girl in this town. Well, every girl that was worth having. He was getting bored with trying to find someone new, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to settle down anytime soon. He hadn’t missed the way her shorts hugged her hips and her taut ass, or the way her generous breasts jiggled as she strutted across the room. She’d held her sharp little chin high in the air, as though she was above everyone else, but Bishop was sure he could put her underneath him. Maybe an out-of-town celebrity was just the thing he needed to satisfy his craving. “How long is she going to be here?”
“I dunno. She can stay as long as she likes, though. She’ll be good for every business in town.”
Bishop looked to Sluice. “It’s been a while since we started any trouble.”
Chapter Two
Lola
Lola Lennox stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She clearly remembered what her last school picture had looked like before she’d run away from this little dump of a town, and she knew she wasn’t the same person anymore. With the help of a fabulous makeup artist, she was no longer the mousey little academic of Rolling Hills High School.
It had been six years since she’d left at the ripe age of 16. She had been told her entire life that it was important to work hard, make good grades, and keep her nose clean. Lola had done that to the best of her abilities, and she had quickly risen to the top of her class. She constantly brought home excellent report cards and awards, but it was somehow never enough for her perfectionist parents.
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother would say, the corners of her thin lips twitching ever downward. “But did you put together the curriculum for that Sunday school class you said you were going to teach? Those little kids are depending on you.”
“I know,” Lola had replied patiently. “I’m going to do it on Saturday. Right now, I’m getting ready to go out with some friends.”
“I don’t think so, Laura,” her father had interrupted. That had been her name when she had still been from this town, though now she didn’t consider herself to be from anywhere. “You have obligations, and you have to take care of them first. Not only do you have the Sunday school class, but you need to put together your campaign plan.”
“Campaign plan?” She had looked at her father in his leather armchair, feeling confused.
“You’ve got to be class president all four years to make it look really good for your résumé,” he had reminded her. “You’re going to be applying to colleges next year, and you’ve got to make the best impression possible.”
That was how it had always been. The constant demands were just too much, and Laura had finally had enough one day. She’d decided on her new name, packed her things, and left in the middle of the night. Taking the sedan she had bought with her own babysitting money, Laura had headed for the Hollywood hills as Lola Lennox. She hadn’t known if she would make it or not, but that hadn’t mattered. She had to get away, and she had to try.
After only a year of open mic nights, Lola had been snapped up for a recording contract. And yet somehow she had still landed right back where she’d started, coming home to visit her parents out of sheer guilt. What a mistake that had been.
Lola stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to her seat at her booth. She had just wanted a quiet drink alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been alone, and it wasn’t going to happen now. Even in this Podunk town, she didn’t dare go anywhere without her bodyguards. It was a good thing, too, since the crowd had arrived only a minute after the bartender had set her margarita down in front of her. Fortunately, this crowd was nothing compared to what she usually experienced. No professional paparazzi had shown up yet, and it was limited to kids with phones. She could handle that.
But what she wasn’t sure she could handle was the homecoming she had received when she’d shown up on her parents’ doorstep. It hadn’t gone as planned. Lola sank down into the booth, accepting the new drink her bodyguard had fetched, and reflected on the fact that she truly didn’t have a hometown anymore.
* * *
“Stay in the car,” she commanded as she picked up her purse and took a deep breath.
“But—”
“I said stay in the car!” Lola didn’t like to get mean with her bodyguards. They had kept her safe when fans went wild, and she was grateful to them for it. Sure, that was their job, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them. And she had come to like Butch, thinking of the big bald man as an older brother who was always looking out for her. “I need to d
o this by myself.”
“Just let her go,” Chris remarked, leaning back in the passenger seat of the car. “It’s not like anything is going to happen here. I bet the whole town freaks out when there’s something as small as a fender bender.”
Lola couldn’t argue with him on that, but she secretly loathed his arrogance. What did he know about Rolling Hills? Nothing, that’s what.
“I might be in there a while, so just be patient.” She gripped the handle of her handbag, wishing she didn’t have to do this. But she had already come all the way here, and there was no point in turning tail now.
“You gonna tell us just what the hell we’re doing here, anyway?” Chris asked, arching his dark eyebrows. “I highly doubt this town is big enough to support one of your concerts. Their biggest event is probably the election of a Corn Queen.”
It was a Peach Queen, actually, but she didn’t bother correcting him. She didn’t have to, since Bruce decided to speak up instead.
“Hey, it’s not our business!” he barked. “This is where she wants to go, so this is where we are. You knew that was how it was when you signed on, so shut up about it.”
