by Sophia Gray
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.
Outlaw’s Kiss: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Raging Reapers MC) (Outlaw Rogues Book 2) copyright 2017 by Sophia Gray. 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
Outlaw’s Kiss: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Raging Reapers MC) (Outlaw Rogues Book 2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Also by Sophia Gray
Outlaw’s Sins: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Violent Spawn MC)
Exposed: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Fury Riders MC)
Ignite: Satan’s Blazes MC
Diablo: Hellriders MC
Savage: Rogue Demons MC
The Baby Bump: Black Knights MC
The Baby Vow: The Angel’s Keepers MC
The Baby Oath: Anarchy’s Reign MC
The Baby Pact: The Twisted Saints MC
His Branded Bride: Steel Devils MC
His Inked Bride: Black Aces MC
His Bound Bride: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
His Captive Bride: Grim Rebels MC
Moan: The Cantonneli Mafia
Consume Me: The Bleeding Prophets MC
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Outlaw’s Kiss: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Raging Reapers MC) (Outlaw Rogues Book 2)
By Sophia Gray
She lied about our baby.
Bridgette swore she’d do whatever it takes to get away from the biker.
But the outlaw’s kiss is a powerful addiction.
And when he comes to claim his woman and their secret baby…
All hell threatens to break loose.
BRIDGETTE
When he left, he was a boy named Kyle.
But he’s back now… and he’s not a little boy anymore.
He’s become something I never thought possible:
A cold-blooded killer.
The man who came back home is an outlaw rogue with blood on his hands, ink on his arms, and the crest of an outlaw motorcycle club blazed across his leather jacket.
I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s done.
But I can see in his eyes that he’s different.
Tougher, crueler, darker, deadlier.
I loved him back then.
But he terrifies me now.
Because he’s discovered my secret, the thing I’ve been hiding from him for six long years…
Our baby daughter.
I can’t let him find us.
If he does, he’ll never let me or my little girl leave his sight ever again.
I have to get my daughter out of here, before it’s too late.
And I’ll give him whatever it takes to keep her safe.
FALCON
I thought I knew what anger was.
Then I found out that the girl I left back in my hometown – my first love – has been hiding a secret baby from me.
And my rage reaches a whole new level.
Lie to me? Hide my family? Steal my little girl?
Hell f**king no.
I’m far from a saint, but there are some things that I hold sacred.
And protecting what’s mine is top of the list.
I’m coming home to claim what belongs to me:
The woman I left behind… and the baby I put in her belly.
Chapter 1
Bridgette
“Still haven’t found yourself a good man, sweetie?”
Bridgette fought her natural instinct to grimace at Mrs. Brown’s friendly question. The plump receptionist was a regular customer at her bake shop since she was in the habit of bringing in treats to the office where she worked. But sometimes she could be just a little too nosy.
Instead, Bridgette plastered on a sweet-as-pie smile as she continued to package up the dozen chocolate cupcakes Mrs. Brown had ordered. “I’m working on it,” she reassured her.
“They’re hard to come by,” Mrs. Brown sighed, readjusting her blouse. “And with your bad luck….”
Bridgette didn’t need reminding of just how few good men there were out there. One bad one had been enough for her. Most of the residents of the town knew the story, either from her mouth directly or from hearsay. The small-town rumor mill was always churning, and secrets never stayed secret for long.
Besides, a knocked-up eighteen-year-old turned teenage mother…everyone knew there was a tragic story lurking behind that reality. Even her daughter Gabby had picked up on the wounds from Bridgette’s past and knew better than to ask about her daddy.
“Who knows,” Bridgette offered brightly. The effusive optimism in her voice was an act, of course; it was easier to keep people from prying when she could pretend to have a handle on things. “Maybe my luck’s about to change. Maybe Prince Charming’s on his way into town as we speak.” She folded the lid of the cardboard box in, taking a moment to admire the bright, beautiful logo printed on the top.
It had been six months since all her hard work had paid off—two jobs and long shifts, frugal living that would make even Scrooge look like a spendthrift, the drawn-out process of groveling at four different banks for a business loan and, hardest of all, the countless times she’d had to tell her precious Gabby that they couldn’t afford this toy or that movie. The look of disappointment on her little girl’s face had nearly shattered her too many times.
But the end result still filled her with pride. Her own bake shop, Gabby’s Baked Goods, was still in the process of becoming a true staple of the community, but she didn’t doubt that it would soon be a success. High-end baked goods like pistachio brownies and chocolate croissants weren’t southerners’ go-to for their sweet cravings, but she was gaining more and more converts with every passing week. And as soon as she was past just breaking even, she could start building the life she’d always hoped for.
For now, the best part was seeing the logo with her daughter’s name stamped on every box of sweets she sold. It meant she’d almost made it, that she was close to crawling out of the hole her ex had left her in. Most of all, it was a beautiful reminder for her of why she was doing this, why she was fighting so hard. It was for her daughter, the one good thing that had come out of the darkest time of her life.
Bridgette pulled down a bit of pastel pink ribbon from the spool hanging above her and began tying up the box. She’d been clumsy at first, but continual practice had brought her to the point where she could box up anything with a beautiful bow blind-folded. She snipped off the ribbon and handed it over to Mrs. Brown, her smile
still beatific.
“Don’t give up hope, honey,” Mrs. Brown urged her, a sad smile on her lips.
Don’t waste your breath, Bridgette thought angrily. But she didn’t let her irritation show. Instead, she thanked Mrs. Brown and waved her out the door.
She was used to the well-meaning words of encouragement. It was all she’d heard since Kyle had ditched her and their then-unborn baby girl. Somehow being broke and pregnant made her the helpless victim in desperate need of pats on the arm and sympathetic cooing. She was that poor thing, heartbroken and alone and struggling to make ends meet. But Bridgette was determined not to be the love-struck girl who couldn’t function after her man left her.
# # #
Kyle. She tried not to think about him, especially since there was so much anger and resentment attached to her memory of him. He’d been her high school sweetheart, and a bit of a troublemaker—the kind of boy who skipped class and flipped off his teachers whenever he felt like it. He hadn’t graduated, but that had never bothered Bridgette.
She realized she’d been young and stupid, running around with him like she had. He was a pretty boy with a mean streak, ripped muscles, a growing collection of tattoos, and no plan for his future. Sure, she’d always known he ran with a dangerous crowd and the job he never discussed was probably not legal, but he wasn’t a user. He had a short fuse, but he was sweet, too. And that had been enough for her.
She’d been wild about him, for sure, and even after all that had happened, she would still sometimes think of his touch when she was alone at night. When they’d been together, every kiss, every second of contact was an explosion of molten fire that threatened to burn out of control.
But he’d left. Not even left, but disappeared. They hadn’t even fought. He just never came home one night. Or the night after.
She called him, his friends, his few relatives, anyone, but no one could tell her where he’d gone. She’d even called the police, but they didn’t have any help to offer. She was left to imagine the worst, and every night she’d pray he would turn up, back from one of his spontaneous road trips.
Then one morning she’d woken up to a ransacked dresser. He was the only one with a key, and there was no sign of a forced entry, meaning it had to be him. He’d left no note, no sign of where he might be. The only way she knew he was gone for good was by the empty place in the drawer where they kept all their cash. She had nothing in the bank, no credit card, no savings. All she had to remember him by was a trashy little apartment with rent due in a week and a positive pregnancy test that she would never get to show him.
But the past was in the past, she told herself, grabbing a dishrag to wipe down the counter. It wasn’t really dirty, but she needed something to distract herself before she wandered too far into her memories. She’d promised herself long ago that she wouldn’t look back, only forward. She had her daughter and their future to think of, and Kyle wouldn’t—couldn’t—be a part of that future.
She glanced at the clock on the wall almost reflexively. Closing time was coming. She’d have to pick Gabby up from her after school daycare soon. She glanced out at the street, trying to see if there was anyone hanging around the entrance.
When she’d first opened her bake shop, things had been fine. The neighborhood was perfectly safe. It was a quiet little town, so she never felt uneasy closing up and heading out to her car by herself. But these last few days, there had been a couple of strange men hanging around outside. They looked a little shady—burly guys, a little unkempt, who mostly wore leather jackets. The kind of guys who never smiled, who made her skin crawl a little. They reminded her a little of the kind of guys Kyle would sometimes hang around.
They never said anything to her, but they would stare at her, and one even trailed her out to her car once. She’d gotten the hell out of there as quickly as she could, and she’d even considered calling the cops, but she figured the police wouldn’t be able to do much when the guys hadn’t even spoken one word to her. Still, the way they looked at her…they weren’t even like the leering men who sometimes whistled after her when she was out running errands. These men seemed to glare at her with a burning hatred. She didn’t understand it.
At least it was light out when she closed up the shop. And she didn’t see anyone out there now.
The ringing of the phone startled her, making her jump a little. She wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Gabby’s Baked Goods Bakery, how may I help you?” she asked pleasantly.
“Hi, Bridgette? Hon, it’s Marcy, Lena’s mom.”
The mom of one of Gabby’s friends from school. The face of a heavyset woman with tight blonde curls flashed into Bridgette’s mind. They’d set up a play-date or two for their girls, but she didn’t know the woman well.
“Listen, I hate to even ask this of you, but I’m in charge of a charity for breast cancer research, and we’re doing a fun run tomorrow. Problem is, the woman who was going to do the goodies for the runners is sicker than a dog, and I remember you saying you’d opened up a place. Do you think you could help us out? We’d need ten dozen treats for tomorrow morning. We could pay you, of course, but we’re in a bit of a bind here.”
Bridgette’s grip tightened on the phone. That was a big order. She couldn’t afford to turn anything down now, not with her bakery just barely making it. Not to mention what good publicity it would be to have her baked goods served at a community event like that.
The problem was, she’d have to stay late to get the order filled. And Gabby was supposed to get picked up from daycare at five sharp. She’d been late too many times, trying to run errands or get groceries or finish something up around the shop. And she didn’t want to pick her daughter up only to run back to the bakery and make Gabby sit there for hours, bored out of her mind. There was nowhere for her to sit, and nothing for her to do. She didn’t share her mother’s penchant for baking either, so having Gabby help wouldn’t work either.
“Marcy, I’d love to, but I’ve got Gabby—“
“Oh, that’s no problem! Lena’s home now. Gabby could just come over if you need someone to watch her while you get things together.”
“I don’t want to impose—,” Bridgette began, but Marcy interrupted her.
“Don’t worry about it! We love having Gabby over. And it’s the least I can do since you’re doing us such a huge favor. You need me to pick her up?”
Bridgette glanced out the door again, scanning the empty sidewalk. If she stayed late, she’d have to walk to her car alone…. And if those men were still there….
No. She couldn’t afford to let those creeps, whoever they were, run her life and ruin her business. She refused to be scared.
“That would be a huge help, Marcy.”
Bridgette gave Marcy the address for the daycare, finalized the order and pricing with her, and thanked her again for helping with Gabby. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m headed out.” She called over to her daycare lady to give her a heads up, just to make sure everything would run smoothly.
Then she started working. It was definitely going to be Gabby’s Baked Goods’s biggest order to date.
At first Bridgette couldn’t help but peer nervously out the front door every few minutes, even after she’d locked up and flipped the closed sign for the night. But soon the logistics of baking ten dozen cookies consumed her, and she was lost in the chore of turning raw ingredients into delectable treats.
Baking had always been a calming process for herself, especially after Kyle had left; it had been a comfort and a distraction, and eventually it became the basis for the business plan that she’d hoped to be her salvation. Even after six months in business, she still found comfort in the familiar, repetitive tasks.
# # #
It was after eight by the time all the cookies had been removed from her industrial-sized oven, cooled, and boxed up. Bridgette was exhausted, and bits of dried dough
still clung to parts of her arms; she was looking forward to a shower that night. But she was proud of the work and excited by the opportunity.
If only things could take off…she was sick of wondering how long her financial instability would last. She wanted to start saving for Gabby’s future. She wanted her to have a college fund and a plan so her baby girl wouldn’t find herself trapped and scared and alone like she had.
Bridgette stacked the boxes behind the counter so they’d be ready to be picked up the next day. Marcy had requested she keep them at the bakery, since the run location was in town anyway. She flipped off the lights, gathered up her purse, and headed for the front door when she thought she saw movement over in the halo of the streetlamp to the left of her bakery.
The keys trembled in her hands a little as she unlocked the front door and prepared to head out into the night. It was just your imagination, she reassured herself. You’re just nervous because of those guys. But she couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling in her gut.
She took a deep, calming breath and pushed through the front door and into the sticky air of the humid summer night. She relocked the door behind her, clutched her purse tighter, and turned down the sidewalk. The community lot where she parked wasn’t that far away. She could make it. If she had to, she could run.
