BROKEN ANGEL: Devil's Route MC

by Nicole Fox

  What I really loved about the house was the sunny, yellow kitchen. And there was plenty of space in the garage for both Jake's car and his bike. There were good schools in the area, and really, everything seemed perfect.

  “You all right?” Jake asked, coming to stand behind me as I stared out the kitchen window into the backyard, watching Cole and Maverick playing fetch. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder and his hands across my stomach, which wasn't growing yet but would be soon.

  “Yeah,” I said, smiling happily. For the first time since I'd found out that I was pregnant with Cole, it felt as though maybe my life was on the right track. “Yeah, everything's just ... perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  “Good,” Jake told me. He lightly kissed the side of my neck, and I could feel his smile against my skin.

  THE END

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  [Bonus Content – Novel #1] CAGED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

  As a gift to you, enjoy this exclusive bonus content!

  I’VE GOT HER CAGED AND DESPERATE FOR A TASTE OF THE BAD BOY.

  The boss only wants Joey Banks straightened out, but I’ve got a different plan in mind.

  I’m going to kill the man and take the smuggling route for my own.

  No one else needs to get hurt. The plan is as simple as it gets.

  Until I meet Joey’s daughter.

  She might look like an angel…

  but she f*cks like the devil.

  And then I find out she’s letting me reel her back in so she can get her own revenge on her father.

  Fair enough; I can respect a little deception. I’m no stranger to it myself.

  We might even have made a good team – if she hadn’t turned on me.

  Now I’ve got no choice but to call in a siege.

  I’m going to have to fight my way out, but I’m not leaving empty-handed.

  I’m taking that fiery b*tch with me no matter what.

  Chapter One

  Lydia

  Buck's Diner on Highway 65 was the type of shit-hole stop-over you could get a cup of coffee for 99¢, a bowl of chili for a couple bucks, and the toughest cut of meat you've ever had for just under ten. The gas station next door kept a steady stream of truckers and travelers, all going to some destination other than the nearest town, and most of them just looked like they were passing.

  It was the perfect place for a woman like me. Drifting, trying to fly below the radar, just wanting to make it from day to day, and stay one step ahead of my past. Because that's all you had out here, really, on this lonely stretch of road. Your day-to-day, and your past. Futures were for rich folks and people who didn't have anything they were running from.

  Today was slow. Achingly slow. Even the lunch rush had been as sparse as the desert land I was looking out over from where I sat on an overturned milk crate next to the fire exit door, trashy paperback folded up in my hands, the smell of old, stale cigarette butts filling the air.

  My book was one of those old bodice rippers, the type my mom would get into back when she was alive. The clerks at the truck stop next door kept them rotated and well-stocked for the truckers that came in. The older drivers were insatiable in the way some of them read these. I guess I could be, too, on slow days like these.

  Out of all the types I read this was one of my favorites. The bad boy, a good-for-nothing rugged type with the secret heart of gold. Didn't matter if he was the noble savage type, or the Scotsman, or just a trashy biker. I loved them all. Because, when you're stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of drunk rednecks and truckers as far as the eye could see, what else were you going to do?

  “Amy!” Buck called to the back of the house, his voice rebounding through the clatter of dishes and kitchen work before it reached me. “You got a table, one top! Number five!”

  Number five, the corner booth.

  Buck didn't use my real name because, quite frankly, I'd never given it to him. He paid my tips under the table, kept my names off the forms, the works. I wasn't altogether sure if he knew I was working under an assumed name, but he knew something was up, I was sure of it. Why else would a pretty girl who could read be working in a place like this, especially when she wasn't knocked up with her third baby from her high school prom date? I had the feeling Buck had seen his fair share of desperate cases like me, though.

  I leaned my head back into the fire exit door as I closed my bent-up romance novel and stuffed it in my apron. “On it, Buck!” I shouted back, then heaved myself up from the plastic crate to head back inside.

  I'd had dozens of gigs like this one, all over the west and south, all in the kinds of places you don't see a new face very often. At least not one that sticks around. Places like these, you start to realize, are the kinds of places that people go when they want to disappear. If you weren't born around here, then you were probably trying to stay away from something else. Sometimes the law, sometimes bad decisions, sometimes just their past in general.

  Me? I'm Lydia Banks, and I was running from my pops, Joey Banks, one of the biggest movers and shakers in in the Tri-State area. Richer than sin, and twice as deadly to your health. I learned that the hard way when I watched him beat my mother to death in a paranoid rage because he thought she was working with outside forces to bring him down. I high-tailed it out of there and kept to the shadier side of life ever since that night. No social media, no emails. Hell, not even a phone.

  It's amazing how easily you can hide in a country this big. Just don't tell anyone your real name, and you're set.

  I grabbed a towel as I walked through the kitchen, slapping it down over my shoulder. Here, at least, I didn't have to pretend I was some kind of trashy waitress that was one step away from stripping, like I had at the last joint. They made me crawl into the booth with customers and flirt with them no matter how gross the guys were, my skirt was short enough I might as well have not even been wearing one, and the managers always had a nasty tendency to get a little too handsy.

  Buck kept out of my way as long as I did a good job, and he let me wear whatever I wanted. Normally that just amounted to a decent top and some jeans I didn't mind smelling like a greasy spoon at the end of the day. Throw an apron over it all, put my hair back in a ponytail, and you've got a work uniform. Or at least enough of one to keep him happy.

  I pushed through the kitchen's swinging doors and headed out onto the floor. Without even glancing to my table, I grabbed a menu off the counter and swung back around to head to my customers. What I saw sitting at the table almost made me stumble.

  He was tall, with short and shaggy dark hair with auburn notes that shone in the brilliant sun streaming in through the windows. His shoulders were broad, and he had an easy way about him that told you he could handle himself in a fight. I briefly wondered if he could handle himself, or me, in something other than a fight. Something about the way he sat there, relaxed, but still aware of his surroundings as he waited for me to bring him the menu.

  And he was looking right back at me.

  His eyes flickered up and down my body, returning the favor I'd given him. His full lips curled up a little at the edge, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Start you off with anything, handsome?” I asked as I handed him the menu.

  “Water, and a coffee.”

  “Room for cream?”

  He shook his head, waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I'm fine. No cream. Sugar I like it sweet.”

  “Makes two of us,” I replied, my lips curling into a little smile of invitation. “Be right back with your water, handsome.” I turned and headed back to the counter, my mind already imaging all the things he could do to me. I could practically feel his eyes on my ass as I sashayed away, my hips moving seductively as I crossed the floor.

  I poured his
glass of ice water and cup of coffee, visions of us already dancing in my head. A man like that didn't show up every day, let alone at a greasy spoon diner in the middle of nowhere. He might never come back. I glanced up as I grabbed the sugar shaker from beside the tray of coffee cups ad caught him watching me.

  He didn't glance away. His eyes just followed me as I brought his drinks to the booth and set them down on the table in front of him, leaning forward as far as I could, my face just inches from his. “You're not from around here, are you?” I asked as I pulled back a little, my lips still close.

  He smirked, his dark brown eyes smiling along with the rest of him. He glanced down at my full, unmarked lips, then back up my eyes. “Aren't I supposed to have some big, burly trucker ask me that out here, and not some young and pretty waitress?”

  “Well, if you need to mark it off your bucket list,” I nearly purred, “I could go next door and grab a couple to come ask for me, instead.”

  He chuckled, still not taking his eyes from mine. “You're right. I'm just passing through on my way to LA. Something tells me you're not from around here either . . .” He paused and looked down at my name tag, his eyes lingering as they passed over the swell of my breasts. “ . . . Amy.”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted with a little smile. “Been around long enough that all the regulars know me, though.”

  “Well, of course. Who wouldn't want to get to know a pretty face like yours?”

  I blushed and glanced away, licking my top lip and biting my lower. I looked back to him as I straightened up a little. “Decide on what you want to eat, yet, mister?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes still locked on to mine as his finger blindly pointed to the wrong item on the menu. “The steak.”

  “Uh-uh,” I replied as I shook my head, my pony tail waving back and forth like a flag. “You don't want the steak, handsome. It's awful. Go with the meatloaf or burger. Mario does a good one, and you definitely won't be disappointed.”

  He eyed me curiously, seeming to decide whether my advice was good or not. I guess I measured up, because he finally nodded. “Cheeseburger with fries, then. No onions.”

  I smiled as I pulled out my order pad and scrawled down his selection. “Anything else?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. I figured he’d catch the implication.

  The handsome stranger looked like he was about to take me up on my offer, but stopped himself and shook his head. “Gotta be somewhere, so I should probably just get the burger,” he admitted.

  I smiled and shrugged. “Your choice, handsome, kitchen's still open.” I turned around and went back, shouting his order to Mario as I came around the counter.

  “Coming up!” Mario shouted back through the kitchen window as he started to get to work on the order.

  There was just something about this guy, about how his eyes seemed to bore into mine with that dark, penetrating gaze of his. There was a measure of cockiness there too, that was almost charming. For a moment, I'd almost thought he was going to take me up on my implied offer.

  Alas, like I said, I'd been living on trashy romance fiction for months. With a life like mine, spent always on the run, you can't exactly bother to get close to anyone. With the jobs I was working and the bars I could afford, I didn't exactly get the pick of the litter on who walked through the door either. It had been awhile, I realized. Too bad he was like all the rest who passed through here and had somewhere, anywhere, else to be.

  Chapter Two

  Kort

  From the description Milo had given me when he first found her, that was definitely Lydia Banks waiting on me. Long blonde hair, legs you wanted to kiss, and the deepest blue eyes any man had ever fallen into. She was thin but still curvy, and she could move those hips when she wanted to.

  Had to give credit where credit was due. Joey Banks popped out one beautiful woman when he had her. Fiery, too, I could tell. Just the way she looked at me made me want to tear her clothes off and see how high up those legs really went. I wondered mindlessly about what her nails would feel like as they scratched up and down my back, and whether she'd mind if I pulled on that pony tail of hers. I had a feeling she wouldn't.

  Honestly, I was impressed, too. Not only was she gorgeous, and sassy, but she'd been on the run for a while. Not everyone had the determination to go underground like she had for the last five years. Cutting yourself off from family was one thing, but friends too? Most people wanted a life, or got tired of the run. Not Lydia that much was for sure. This girl had an iron will inside her, one I wouldn't have to take lightly.

  And the way she’d flirted with me while taking my order? Milo hadn't mentioned how much she liked bad boys... He'd had to force her out of the place he'd caught her in, drag her all the way back to his car and stuff her away before she could make a run for it. She finally managed to which was how Milo had gotten in trouble with her daddy in the first place: Joey Banks.

  Milo's death still fucked me up inside, especially with the way things had gone down. Word was, Joey had just snapped when Milo told him the bad news and beat my friend to death with his fists. Just his fists. They had to pull the drugged out, crazed asshole off my buddy's bloody corpse, even keep him from going back for a second round on poor Milo's face.

  Milo’d been so close, too, to getting inside the operation like our boss wanted him to. Bringing Lydia home would have nearly set him for life, put him in a real position to start moving up through our organization. If he'd managed to deliver the Warehouse, the middle-man clearing house of the region, to our boss, he would have been in the clear. He'd have been a prince among men, a king among princes.

  Too bad Lydia brought him down that way. Not that she meant to, of course. She had no idea what was going to happen to Milo, just like Milo didn't have a fucking clue either. If he had, he probably wouldn't have gone back to Joey empty handed. He would have just cut and run and told him to find another way in.

  I reached down, took a sip of my coffee, and watched as Lydia started up her side work.

  She glanced back at me as she brushed a stray blonde hair back behind her ear, a light smile on her lips. Something about that smile reminded me of a shark. Not in a scary way, or anything. But something about a shark's smile always said, “I'm going to eat you for lunch.”

  Of course, given a choice between Jaws or Lydia, I'd take Lydia any day of the week.

  I had to remember that sweet body, or that inviting smile, of hers, wasn't what I was here for. I was here for some coffee and a burger, then to follow her back to her place.

  I'd make the grab tonight when she got home from her shift, before she got suspicious and started to go on the move again. Shove her in the car, then head for the Warehouse before anyone got alerted and called the cops for an abduction. I hated to drag her back to her psycho dad, but if I didn't have Lydia I didn't have shit. No way Joey or his men were letting me through the doors of that fortress without some sort of offering to pave my way forward.

  And, if I couldn't make it through the doors and past all the guns surrounding that place like a ring of steel, then there was no way in hell I was going to get to Joey Banks.

  I had in my mind the different ways that motherfucker was going to pay. One way or another, I was going to get my pound of flesh from his old psycho hide before I delivered him over to the boss. That was the promise I'd made over poor Milo's grave, and it was the promise I meant to keep.

  All I had to do was make sure I didn't spook the girl. She was like a deer in the forest, and I had to approach this carefully. I'd stay, I'd finish my burger, then I'd keep an eye on her from afar. No more, no less.

  Chapter Three

  Lydia

  A few minutes after I'd put the order in, the stranger got up and headed to the restroom. I still hadn't been able to take my eyes off him, even while I was refilling the saltshakers and cutting my lemons. I'd noticed, too, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off me.

  I heard the table at the booth move a little and glanced back
to watch him go to the bathroom, his great ass moving perfectly in his tight jeans as he went. Maybe it was the steamy, trashy book I'd just been reading, or the fact I’d been in a long dry spell, or maybe it was just extreme boredom, but I took off my little half apron and got up to follow him, even when all my instincts were ringing out a warning.

  I'd seen the way he looked at me, had felt the connection we had, even if it was just physical, a momentary and tenuous moment between strangers. I knew he was leaving right after this, but I didn't give a shit. I needed something more than what my books had been giving me, something to shake up the ennui of life on the run. I disappeared around the corner from the dining area and propped myself up right in front of the men's restroom.