Ruthless

by Gillian Archer

  He looked gorgeous.

  And all mine.

  I floated down the flower-strewn grass aisle, not looking left or right. I already knew the seats were full. My side with family, friends, and coworkers from the Mother Lode Casino. Zag’s side was packed with guys from the shop and, of course, most of the True Brothers Motorcycle Club. It would make for some interesting photos later.

  But I only had eyes for one man. My man.

  When I got to the altar, Zag cupped my face in his hands and took my lips in a bruising kiss that curled my toes and embarrassed the hell out of me.

  “Ahem.”

  Zag kept kissing me.

  Nervous twitters and giggles from the audience had me shifting from foot to foot. Finally, Reb whacked Zag on the back. “Come on, man. You’ll have plenty of time for that on the honeymoon.”

  Zag pulled back and looked down at my burning face. “You look gorgeous. I love you.”

  I just bit my lip and shook my head. Had I really expected anything different from this man? This ceremony was going to go at his pace whether everyone else liked it or not.

  As if to prove my point, he faced the pastor with my hands in his—bouquet and all. “All right, padre. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  The pastor cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…”

  To my own hero, Dave. For all the late nights, bottles, and screaming fits—both mine and our newborn’s!

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my awesome critique partners, Amy Isaman and Paisley Hendricks, for all the hand-holding and butt-kicking. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.

  And the best writing friend I’ve ever had, Sasha Devlin. You’ve talked me off of more proverbial cliffs than anyone should ever have to. Love you!

  And my fabulous editor, Sue Grimshaw. Thank you for loving Zag as much as I do!

  BY GILLIAN ARCHER

  A True Brothers MC Novel

  Ruthless

  Rebellious

  PHOTO: PAISLEY HENDRICKS

  GILLIAN ARCHER has a bachelor’s degree in mining engineering, but prefers to spend her time on happily ever after. She writes the kind of stories she loves to read—the hotter the better! When she’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch, indulging in her latest reality TV fixation, or baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waistline). Gillian Archer lives in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, gorgeous new baby, and two goofy dogs.

  Want more from Gillian Archer?

  The Pleasure Code series, including Wicked Weekend and Up in Knots, is available now.

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  @gillianarcher

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  The Editor’s Corner

  April is a promise of spring, and Loveswept romance is here to warm things up.

  L. P. Dover continues her edgy, emotionally gripping Second Chances series with the story of a beautiful widow who can’t resist a chiseled NFL player in Catching Summer. The Society of Gentlemen series from K. J. Charles continues with the sizzling A Gentleman’s Position. For a new series, ladies, meet Micah, a man who takes what he wants—until he meets the one woman he needs in Stacey Kennedy’s Bound Beneath His Pain. An epic love affair steals the show in Stina Lindenblatt’s This One Moment. Annie Rains continues her small-town Hero’s Welcome series with a cowboy turned Marine in Welcome Home, Cowboy. Gillian Archer is hot on the trend of MC romance, introducing her True Brothers series with Ruthless. And MC Sons of Odin returns with Violetta Rand’s irresistible novel about a sexy-as-sin biker who tempts a good girl to go bad in Possession.

  Off the Hook from USA Today bestselling author Laura Drewry is the first in her Fishing for Trouble series featuring three unforgettable brothers—each of whom is a great catch. Then the swoon-worthy McKinney Brothers series from New York Times bestselling author Claudia Connor continues with J.T. in Worth It All. USA Today bestselling author Alexis Morgan kicks off her new Sergeant Joe’s Boys series with Always for You: Jack, where a foster son learns about love and life in record time. And the new Fireside series tells a story of an old love reunited in His to Love from new Loveswept author Stacey Lynn. USA Today bestselling writing duo M. J. Fields and Chelsea Camaron are back with the Caldwell brothers in Jagger, which is not only full of swagger and sensuality but also packs an emotional punch as the last bachelor standing fights for a woman who’s worth every ounce of trouble. And yet another Aces Hockey romance from Kelly Jamieson releases this month, featuring pro hockey hunk Duncan in Icing. There’s also something naughty for you from New York Times bestselling author Jen McLaughlin in Lust Is the Thorn, where a soon-to-be-ordained priest has to decide who he loves more. Then prepare yourself for razor-sharp suspense from New York Times bestselling author Patricia Rosemoor with His Deception. Two words for you: secret bodyguard. And for fans of the hit TV show Empire, Lisa Marie Perry’s Sin for Me kicks off the sizzling Devil’s Music series.

  Friend Loveswept and let the romance begin!

  Until next month—Happy Romance!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Rebellious

  A True Brothers MC Novel

  by Gillian Archer

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  Emily Clark

  JULY 19

  RENO, NEVADA

  Tucker Gifford looked up from his scruffy sneakers and gave me a self-conscious smile. “Hey, Miss Clark.”

  Despite the sad sight in front of me, my heart melted. The kid was just so damn cute. And sad.

  Although at eight, he was too young to do much of anything all by himself, I’d seen him alone plenty of times around our apartment complex. But always with that tough but oh-so-vulnerable expression. He defined the term latchkey kid.

  For the second time in a week, I’d come home to him sitting on the front step of the complex’s entrance. Only this time he had a sack of groceries next to him. Not quite sure what to make of that, I smiled in return. “Hey, Tucker. You get locked out again?”

  He hitched a shoulder in reply. Crap, that couldn’t be a good sign. Usually he talked a mile a minute.

  It’d been a long day. My summer job at the bookstore had given me a killer headache. All I wanted was a few Tylenol and some mindless TV. But clearly Tucker was hurting, and I couldn’t just leave him. I stopped next to him and sat down on the step, uncaring of my mostly white sundress.

  Okay, I cared a little.

  Peering into the grocery bag, I spotted potato chips, cookies, soda, and beef jerky. Much more than a kid would buy for an afternoon snack. My heart sank at the implication. Had his mom left him for the night? Or, shit, the whole weekend?

  “Have you called your mom?”

  Tucker looked away, avoiding my probing eyes. “My cellphone’s dead.”

  “You can borrow mine.” I reached into my purse.

  “I don’t remember her number. She changed it last week.”

  Of course she did. His mother, Rhonda, had put me on her shit list very soon after they moved in over a month ago. The first time we’d met, I smiled at her, and she’d given me a snide “What the hell are you looking at?” accompanied by a hostile glare. Lovely woman. I knew and got along with the majority of the people in our complex, but Mrs. Gifford had done little to ingratiate herself with her new neighbors. Me especially.

  I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gifford. Although if he was anything like his wife, he had to be a piece of work, too.

  “So what’s on tap for tonight?” I gave Tucker a smile that I just wasn’t feeling. “Gonna play some video games with Jonas?”

  “Nope.” Tucker ducked his head and scraped intently at the dirt unde
r his fingernails. “They went on vacation.”

  Which didn’t really explain why he was waiting in front of the apartments. Was he waiting for his mom? Or someone else? I’d only ever seen him hanging out with our neighbor Jonas, or coming or going all by himself or with his mother. I wanted to ask about his dad but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Was the man even in Tucker’s life? Could I be making a bad situation worse by asking about him? Probably.

  The ache behind my eyes pounded harder. Really all I wanted was to collapse on my sofa and watch some Real Housewives while I drowned myself in red wine and pizza, but clearly that wasn’t gonna happen tonight. I gave Tucker a weary smile—it was all I was capable of right that second. “How about you come in and help me eat the pizza that’s on its way?”

  I mentally crossed my fingers. It would be on its way once I made the phone call.

  Tucker didn’t say anything. But he hefted his grocery bag and followed me into the building and up the flight of stairs to our floor. His apartment was next door to mine, and I couldn’t help but look in its direction as I unlocked my deadbolt. The whole floor was unusually quiet. Usually I could hear the bumping bass that had started once Tucker and his mom moved in.

  I gave him another weak smile over my shoulder before pushing open the door and ushering him inside.

  An hour later, with most of a large pizza demolished and a few cans of cola that I’d found at the back of my fridge consumed, I felt a little braver. Mostly because Tucker had relaxed enough to crack a few jokes and share a few unknowingly heartbreaking details about his life. Like the fact that he much preferred to spend time with his father.

  “So what’s the plan for tonight? Do you know when your mom’s coming home? I could make up the couch for you or…” I hesitated. Was I making the right call here? Given the way Tucker had talked about him, I knew he loved his dad. I hoped the man was more worthy of the emotion than his mother.

  Tucker reached for his next piece of pizza. “Or what?”

  “Or we could call your dad. If your mom’s not coming home, wouldn’t you rather be with him? Especially since you’re locked out.”

  “He’s not home.” Tucker grabbed his slice of pizza and shoved most of it into his mouth in one huge bite.

  “We could call his cell?”

  Tucker shook his head. “Don’t know his new number, either.”

  What was it with his family? How could everyone need new phone numbers every other week? It was crazy. “Well, he’ll be home eventually, right? I could run you by his house later on tonight.”

  Tucker’s whole face lit up with hope; then he sagged with a frown. “It’s Wednesday. He’ll be at…work till late.”

  “He’s at work? What’s he do?”

  “He’s a…um, mechanic.”

  “And he’s working tonight? All night on a Wednesday?” Yeah, that wasn’t weird. My mind raced at all the possibilities. Tucker had made his dad sound awesome, but now I wondered.

  Until tonight, there hadn’t been anything really happening with Tucker that I could report to DCFS, the authorities. He was a latchkey kid. Then again, he wasn’t the only one in the apartment complex. But it was obvious Rhonda had left him alone for the night—if not the entire weekend—and I had to do something.

  “Tucker, I need to talk to your dad. Can we drop by his shop? Do you know the name? We can call first if you want.”

  Again he hitched a shoulder in reply.

  I struggled not to snap at him. I knew this couldn’t be easy for him, either. “Come on, Tuck, grab your stuff. I’ll run you over there.”

  Because if I didn’t talk to his dad tonight, I was calling the authorities. Not that I was gonna tell him that. I didn’t want to spook him and lose his trust before I knew he was taken care of. Even if it was with DCFS. I knew from my own experiences that foster care could be pretty rough. And I didn’t want that for this sweet little guy. Hopefully his dad was the kind who gave a shit, although judging from his taste in women, I wasn’t too optimistic.

  After a little cajoling, we were inside my car. It was a piece-of-crap car, but with student loans still weighing down on me, it would have to last me a little bit longer. In five short years, I’d finally be debt free. I sank the key into the ignition and turned it. It only took two tries before the engine finally started. Thank God for tiny favors! With a triumphant grin, I turned to Tucker, who I made sit in the backseat. “So where are we going?”

  His brow wrinkling at my inexplicable euphoria, Tucker just shook his head. “Downtown.”

  Ten minutes later, my shoulders shrank the farther we drove into the downtown corridor. I wouldn’t walk through this neighborhood in the light of day, so I really didn’t feel comfortable driving down these streets at dusk. The time I spent at each stop sign decreased until I was practically rolling through the last one.

  We finally reached what Tucker declared to be his dad’s mechanic shop. The sign over the closed roller bay doors read “Dirty Side Down Mechanics.” Of course the closed doors and lack of vehicles outside didn’t bode well for finding Mr. Gifford.

  I coasted to a stop in front of the shop, then turned to Tucker. “So if he’s not at work, you sure he’s not at home?”

  “Not on Wednesdays.” Tucker stared mulishly out the side window.

  “Great.” I sighed, picturing us trolling the local bars for his father. Not in this lifetime. Definitely not with a child in tow, and judging from the location of his shop, I really wouldn’t fit in at his father’s no doubt dubious choice of drinking hole. Dammit, I was gonna have to call DCFS.

  Memories of my own visits with burnt-out social workers and lackluster foster parents had my throat thickening with tears. I knew the system failed and I really didn’t want to put Tucker through that, but what were my options? With a heavy heart, I reached for my purse.

  “He’s probably at the clubhouse.”

  I paused. “Clubhouse? What does that mean?” The innocuous word didn’t jive with our surroundings. Plus I had a hard time imagining someone who worked here having a treehouse.

  Tucker just shrugged. “It’s down the street.”

  My car groaned as I put it back into gear, and we rolled down the street at a slow pace. The neighborhood was mostly empty, as it was a mix of warehouses and battered, vacant prewar houses. My stomach knotted up as I stopped in front of a fenced-off block a minute later.

  An eight-foot fence topped with razor wire loomed overhead. And the sight on the other side of the fence wasn’t much more comforting. At least twenty motorcycles sat in the parking lot while my car and the entire block bounced from the bumping bass emanating from the plain cinderblock building.

  “Your dad is here?”

  “Yeah, that’s his bike over there.” Tucker gestured toward the parking lot.

  Suddenly “clubhouse” took on a more sinister meaning. Tucker’s dad was a biker. One of those kinda bikers.

  I’d had some recent exposure to what bikers were like. My best friend, Jessica, was getting married to a biker in two months. They’d been together for over a year, and I still had a hard time believing it. We were middle-class good girls who toed the line. Neither me nor Jess had ever had a walk on the wild side. But then she broke all the rules last year.

  Apparently, Jess and Zag, her biker, had started out as a one-night stand, but one night became two and got complicated by a drug-dealing ex-club member who targeted Jessica after she saw him selling drugs in a parking lot. An accidental pregnancy, two bullet wounds, and a year later, they were in love and getting married.

  I kinda hoped this was Zag’s club. At least then there’d be a somewhat familiar face.

  I eyed the stocky guy guarding the compound gates. It wasn’t so much the clothes that intimidated—I’d seen plenty of guys in jeans and leather jackets. But even the poor lighting couldn’t hide the tattoos on his neck or the annoyed body language when he crossed his arms and sent a glare my way. I really didn’t want to have a conversation
with him.

  I bit my lip and turned to Tucker. “Do you know a Zag by any chance?”

  “He’s my dad’s best friend. How do you know Zag?” Tucker’s eyes widened.

  “Small world. He’s marrying my best friend.” I pulled out my cellphone and ignored the hostile looks the guard tossed our way. Pulling up my bestie’s number, I made the call.

  Per usual, Jessica didn’t even bother with a hello. “What the hell? I thought you said you were too tired to go out tonight.”

  “I still am.” I laughed. “Not that it really stopped me.”

  “Never mind. Hey, is Zag around?” Please say no. Please say no.

  “Not right now. He’s having a boys’ night. Why?”

  “Um, any chance he’s at his clubhouse?”

  “What? I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

  I ignored her pointed question. “Could you call him up and ask him to meet me out in front of the clubhouse? Call me back if he’s not here.”

  “Here?!” Jessica’s shriek had me pulling my phone away from my ear. “What the hell are you doing at the clubhouse, Em? Do you know where you are?”

  “Uh, yeah, Jess. Like I said, I’m at—”

  “The clubhouse, I heard. You know what I mean. Zag’s club isn’t something you should be screwing around with. Those guys are hard-core. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “I don’t have time for a lecture, Jess. Just tell him I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

  “When did you get so damn stubborn?” Jessica hissed her irritation. “Fine. Just be careful. And you’re telling me all about this later.”

  “Fine,” I said, mocking her tone.

  “Tomorrow. Over coffee.”