by Debra Kayn
"She's at the house. All the members of Moroad are there, probably drinking your beer to get their drink on and avoiding Christina's shit she's throwing at them." Merk grinned.
Cam grinned back. He missed Christina's attitude and the way she bitched about what was right, and the way she stood up to him when she supported Jeremy.
He started the engine and the high of walking away from the prison dipped. After a year and a half, he wasn't looking forward to confessing to Jeremy that he wasn't his real father, or his part in how he forged the papers getting custody of him. Hell, Jeremy was almost eighteen years old now. If he wanted to make Cam pay, he'd have every right to get him arrested.
"We've got a long ride. Let's go," Cam said, pulling his motorcycle forward and riding out of the parking lot.
Eager to get back to Christina, he led Merk the whole eight hours without stopping. His hands cramped the last one hundred miles and it took everything he had to keep going. His dedication to lifting weights, running around the outside yard, and pushups while cooped in his cell wasn't enough to keep in condition for riding. Fuck, he missed his bike.
He rode down the gravel road to his house. His chest tightened at the spot in the road where the sheriff hauled him away for being a felon in the possession of a weapon. He'd taken the hit for Jeremy, so he could get inside the prison and take care of the threat against Jeremy, and make sure his family stayed safe.
Merk surged forward and rode beside him. "I know we won't have much time to talk once you park your bike, but we need to get together in the next couple of days."
"Trouble?" Cam yelled over the noise.
Merk held up one hand and shook it. "Nothing we haven't seen before, brother."
For the last two years, the gun chain he'd set up from coast to coast brought in more money than the Moroad MC members had ever seen and supported the members in the state penitentiary. He eased back on the throttle, needing time to catch his breath before he arrived at the house. There were always dangers running illegal guns, but the reports he'd received from Merk while on the inside gave him hope that the pressure from Reds calmed down.
The two-story, run down house came into view, except the exterior now had a coat of fresh red paint accented with white doors. He glanced at Merk, and wasn't surprised when his V.P. fell back and let him take the lead. He had a feeling he knew who was responsible for fixing up his place.
Christina's need to clean and provide a normal home for Jeremy obviously had no boundaries when he was gone. He caught sight of his MC brothers congregated in the yard and ran his forearm across his face to wipe the dust off.
He gazed through the double line of men waiting for him and found Jeremy standing at the edge of the crowd. He stopped his motorcycle, shut off the engine, and peeled his body from the seat. His stiff leg protested the movement.
The Moroad MC members, quiet and staying back, lifted their beer cans in the air in a silent welcome. Cam viewed his brothers, looking for the one person he'd waited eighteen months to see.
Jeremy stepped forward. Cam pushed past the anxiety tightening in his chest at not finding Christina and hooked the kid's neck, holding him in place. Taller and more filled out than the last time he'd seen Jeremy, the kid looked him in the eye.
"Welcome home." Jeremy shook Cam's hand.
Jeremy's size wasn't the only thing that'd changed. The scruffy beard, the confidence, and the low timber of his voice surprised Cam, remembering the boy he'd left behind. During his absence, Jeremy found his place within Moroad and matured.
"It's good to be back, kid." Cam squeezed Jeremy's neck, noting the tension running under his fingers. "Feels damn good."
The others, after respecting the kid's need to meet with Cam first, stepped forward. Cam grinned, swept up in the back slaps, the shoves, the punches. The urgency to find Christina grew stronger.
Where the fuck was she?
"Let's get this party going," Stache yelled, thrusting a full can of beer in Cam's hand.
Cam brought the beer to his lips and stepped toward the house. Gunner stopped him, slapping him on the back. He wiped the spilled drink off his beard and clasped Gunner's hand.
"Good to have you back, brother." Gunner pointed over Cam's shoulder. "The women have arrived."
Four cars pulled into the yard, blowing a dust story over everyone. He eyed Katie, Lola, Jessie, and Tiff dance their way to the men. He had no interest in the Moroad women. The only woman he wanted was his, and she seemed to be missing.
"Where's Christina?" Cam said, raising his voice over the noise.
Gunner frowned. "She was here earlier. Maybe she's in the house."
Cam stepped away, brushing off Bear's attempt at distracting him and escaping Johnson heading his way. He wasn't going to let anyone stop him from finding Christina.
Ahead of him, Merk slipped out the front door of his house. He paused with his boot on the porch step, surprised to find Christina went against his orders not to have Moroad members inside the house with her.
"Merk..." Cam studied his V.P's frown. "Where is she?"
"Inside." Merk pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped the box against his hand. "She didn't know if she could handle seeing you with everyone around, so she's giving you time with the men."
Bull shit. He walked to the door and Merk stopped him again. His muscled tightened. He wanted nothing more to beat anyone who tried to stop him. He'd been patient, but he expected Christina outside to greet him when he rode in.
"It's been eighteen months, brother," Merk said. "Go easy on her..."
Cam bumped his chest against Merk. "Don't tell me how to take care of my woman."
Merk stared at him, holding him back from rushing into the house to Christina, and finally stepped around Cam and walked to the yard. He wasted no time, and walked through the door. Only one reason would keep Christina from going outside to meet him. She was scared.
He checked the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen. Not stopping, he walked out the backdoor and his racing heart petered out when he found her. She sat at the once old, broken picnic table that now had a fresh coat of white paint and a fixed leg.
Christina stared out at the Bitterroot Mountains reminding him of the day he'd broken her spirit. He walked through the grass, gazing at her the whole time. Her body became aware of him before she acknowledged his arrival.
Her fingers curled into her palms. He'd waited to feel those hands on him, and he wanted to rush over and force her to touch him. Holding himself back, he hitched his hip on the edge of the table. He took in the slenderness of her bare arms. Arms that used to wrap around him, begging him not to leave her. Except, he had left her.
"Black or white?" he said, pulling the words from his chest.
Her chin dipped to her chest and she whispered, "If I lie, will you keep me?"
Relief squeezed his throat and he swallowed. His body, unable to ignore her, hardened. It'd been too long since he'd had her.
"I wouldn't let you go, even if you told me the truth." He straightened and walked over and sat beside her.
She slipped her hand into his and leaned her head against his arm. "I wanted to meet you out front, but my legs...they're shaking. I can't even move."
He turned his upper body and lifted her onto his lap. "I need you."
Her arms wrapped around him. He thrust his fingers into her hair, cupping her head, and brought her mouth closer. He trembled, starving for a taste of her warmth.
"I missed you." She traced his lips with her finger.
His chest rose and fell, sucking in air she'd stolen. "Kiss me before I fuck you right here on this table."
Her smile slipped and her eyes warmed. "Okay."
Her lips land softly on his. Pressure filled the inside of his head. Her scent, a mix between freedom and woman, intoxicated him. He opened her mouth with his tongue. The sweet sensation singed every nerve. He held her still, not wanting to let her go and knowing a kiss wasn't enough. Afraid of breaking her, he
eased back, raining kisses along her jaw, her neck, inhaling the scent of everything good.
"Cam..."
He inhaled deeply, snuggled against her neck. She made him weak. "Give me a second, baby."
The arms around him tightened. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes. No longer living in prison, he wavered over the pressure of being on the outside. He had a club to take care of, a woman he needed to reconnect with, and a gun chain that threatened his freedom. All of that hinged on the outcome of telling Jeremy the truth. A truth that could put him back in prison for life.
Author Bio
Top Selling Romance Author, Debra Kayn, lives with her family at the foot of the Bitterroot Mountains in beautiful Idaho. She enjoys riding motorcycles, playing tennis, fishing, and driving the men crazy in the garage.
Her love of family ties and laughter makes her a natural to write heartwarming contemporary stories to the delight of her readers. Oh, let's cut to the chase. She loves to write about REAL MEN and the WOMEN who love them.
When Debra was nineteen years old, a man kissed her without introducing himself. When they finally came up for air, the first words out of his mouth were...will you have my babies? Considering Debra's weakness for a sexy, badass man, who is strong enough to survive her attitude, she said yes. A quick wedding at the House of Amour and four babies later, she's living her own romance book.
Website: www.debrakayn.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/DebraKayn
Facebook: www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage
Debra Kayn's Backlist
Wrapped Around Him – Moroad MC series
For Life – Moroad MC series, releasing soon
Breathing His Air – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Aching To Exhale – Lagsturns Motorcycle Club
Soothing His Madness – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Grasping for Freedom – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Fighting To Ride – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Struggling For Justice – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Starving For Vengeance – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Living A Beautiful War – Bantorus Motorcycle Club
Laying Down His Colors – Bantorus Motorcycle Club, anthology titled Melt My Heart
Archer, A Hard Body Novel, book 1
Weston, A Hard Body Novel, book 2
Biker Babe in Black, The Chromes and Wheels Gang, book 1
Ride Free, The Chromes and Wheels Gang, book 2
Healing Trace
Wildly, Playing For Hearts, book 1
Seductively, Playing For Hearts, book 2
Conveniently, Playing For Hearts, book 3
Secretly, Playing For Hearts, book 4
Surprisingly, Playing For Hearts, book 5
Chantilly's Cowboy, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch, book 1
Val's Rancher, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch, book 2
Margot's Lawman, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch, book 3
Florentine's Hero, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch, book 4
Suite Cowboy
Hijinks
Resurrecting Charlie's Girl
Betraying the Prince
Love Rescued Me
Double Agent
Breaking Fire Code
Sample Chapter – Living A Beautiful War
Book 8, Bantorus Motorcycle Club series by Debra Kayn
Chapter One
In the back of the main room of the Sterling Building, three men shook hands with Kurt, Bantorus MC, Federal Charter's president. Ink rolled his lips over his teeth, uncomfortable with the scene playing out in front of him. Every Saturday for the last month, he'd witnessed the same three men single out and make contact with Kurt.
Usually, the only customers visiting Silver Girls —the only adult entertainment joint in Federal— were miners from the local silver mines. Ink studied the men. Dressed in worn jeans, shirts with the sleeves cut off, and black riding boots; Ink suspected they were bikers looking for a club. However, the serious expression on each man's face and tightly controlled attitude was not a classic sign of eager, willing-to-please, hopeful prospects.
The men's attention focused on Kurt, not the girls dancing or the music blaring in the room. Ink drew his gaze away from the group and found Lilly standing several feet away from the huddle. Anyone else would think the daughter of the president of the mother club in Pitnam was doing her managerial job of watching over the dancers, but he knew differently. Lilly had her nose where it didn't belong and because of his lack of self-control, he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
He'd received his first official warning to stay away from Lilly six months ago when she came to Federal to be closer to him. If anyone caught him touching Lilly again, he'd have his patches stripped and be without a club.
Not that he had any opportunity to be alone with her since Kurt caught him with his hands and mouth on her. Lilly had stopped using every excuse to be around him lately. The most he got out of her was a shrug and the occasional middle finger before she stormed away. The stubborn girl was trying to protect him from getting in trouble.
As a result, he had the biggest case of blue balls ever and lived every day on the verge of kicking someone's ass, because Lilly was the only woman he wanted.
All natural blonde hair down to the top of her perky ass, eyes darker than whiskey and full of emotions, Lilly had the ability to stomp his heart. He leaned back against the wall. His body tense, he expected trouble. Until he found out what Kurt had going down on the side and Lilly was safe, he'd be on guard and protect her.
Because of the warning, there was nothing else he could do, but wait.
It seemed like he'd tried everything to forget about Lilly. He'd voluntarily left Pitnam, home to the Bantorus Motorcycle Club, four years ago and helped Kurt start the charter in Federal, Idaho, to get away from Lilly. His plan backfired. Distance only made Lilly more determined to come after him. She'd packed her bags, told no one she was traveling to the Silver Valley, and arrived with no clue what she was doing to him.
She was hell on two sexy, strong legs, and the sweetest girl who'd ever walked into his life when she was twelve years old and announced she was staying. His chest tightened. Lilly scared the shit out of him.
If anyone got wind that he'd sampled her sweet pussy on more than one occasion, he'd be lying six feet deep. If Lilly's dad, the president of Bantorus MC, even thought that Ink's relationship went back to when Lilly was twelve years old and he was twenty-four years old, Prez would castrate him, and then slowly kill him.
There were things about Lilly he couldn't put into words or excuse. He'd tried. Fuck, he'd tried. He was tired of running away from what he'd always wanted, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Cutter, his MC brother, lumbered over to Ink. "Ten more minutes and we'll lock the doors, and get the Silver Girls back to the clubhouse."
"Sounds good, brother." Ink lifted his chin, motioning to the back of the room. "What's up with Kurt and those guys? Have you seen them before?"
"Germ asked me the same thing. He said Prez spent last Saturday night during the show talking to some men he hadn't seen around before." Cutter pulled a handful of sunflower seeds out of his pocket and popped them all into his mouth. "At least we know it's not about Los Li."
"Right," Ink mumbled.
Thankfully, the U.S. arm of the Mexican mafia who'd continually warred against Bantorus MC over the last thirty years would now spend a lifetime locked behind bars in four different prisons. It'd been a quiet six months over the winter for the club, which let everyone wind down and relax. Ink took the down time to throw himself into working double shift in the warehouse assembling rifles for the militia, and put a good chunk of change in the bank. The added distraction kept him away from Lilly, but not even manual labor kept his mind off her.
The men in question walked away from Kurt and headed toward the backdoor. Ink followed them with his gaze and rested his hand on the butt of his pistol at his hip. The men neither
spoke nor looked around at the other customers.
"Something's definitely up," Cutter said, around a jaw full of seeds.
Ink looked back to Kurt and found him gone. Two seconds later, Lilly followed the men's path, her boots moving quickly over the floor and her blonde hair waving in her wake. Ink slapped Cutter in the stomach. "Stay in here and watch over the girls."
Ink followed Lilly down the hallway and slipped outside before the door could shut behind her. He hooked her arm.
Startled, she jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Shit. You scared me."
"Get inside." He caught her again, guiding her toward the door.
"Wait a second." She dug her boots in and jerked his arm. "Come with me."
"Jesus," he muttered, following her. "You know the rules. All girls stay in the building during working hours."
"Will you keep your voice down?" She kept walking to the end of the block, stopped at the corner, and held up her hand. "Don't you want to know what Kurt's doing with those men?"
A group of motorcycle engines started. Ink tilted his head, studying the sounds. He knew the timing and the noise of each muffler belonging to his MC brothers. Hell, he'd worked on every motorcycle in the club himself to know them by sound. None of the bikes belonged to Bantorus.
Lilly leaned her warm body against him and whispered. "They've been meeting with—"
"Sh." Ink looked around the corner, spotted three riders and before they rode around the corner, the jean vests on their back showed up under the streetlight and each one of them had a get back whip hanging from their left handlebar.
Too far away to read the patches or see their colors, he moved back around the corner. He went through the list of motorcycle clubs in the Northwest. There were the Skull Worshippers out of Washington, Chrome and Wheels from the Oregon coast, the Hellstones from Nevada, and a few nomad riders for Lagsturns MC still hanging around Southern Oregon. None of the noted MCs wore a territorial patch and typically stayed away from Bantorus MC.
