Forever Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  Her hand squeezing my forearm just a little tighter brings me from the memories of the beaten and bloodied bodies littering the desert landscape around me, snapping me back to the standoff we’re in. I hear her whisper angrily, “I’m not a whore,” and her tone makes me smile. She’s a little wild cat. Good for her. She might have given Marc and his Demons a run for their money.

  “You have ten seconds to get your piece of shit bikes off my highway or there’s gonna be a problem!” I yell over the low rumble of my guys’ bikes as a couple start up behind me, ready to chase these fuckers if they start shit and run.

  The familiar squeak of our local auto body shops’ parts van finds me over the noise and laughter from the Demons and I spare a look over my shoulder, seeing five more guys jump from the beat up Ford. I don’t hide the scowl on my face as I spot my brother sitting in the driver’s seat. He gives me a two finger mock salute and I give him the normal middle finger, anger at his refusing to listen to me, boiling inside of me.

  My older brother Abel, better known as Preacher, has given me nothing but trouble in the last six months or so. He had a huge role in the fuck up that was North Carolina and my dealing with the Hellions MC out there. He’s unstable at times, like our mother was, our childhood abuse sticking with him more than it has me and I carry a heavy guilt for that.

  “We’ll leave,” Marc’s voice breaks in over the objections from his men and he steps forward, his shadow elongating over the blacktop and the woman’s hand digging into my arm even more, making me want to shake her, but I stand firm. Marc spits close to my feet, trying again to disrespect me, but my boys know to keep their cool. “But not before I get somethin’ in return.”

  “We don’t owe you a damn thing, Di-ab-lo.” Esbirro, my Sergeant at Arms, barks from beside me. I’ve known him since we were eight and I trust him without hesitation. He’s been a Ghost since we graduated High School and I left for the Marines, learning all he knows about weapons from his father and my uncle. I swear the man could take apart, clean, and put back together any type of weapon effortlessly and while blindfolded. “You still owe us for the way you returned the last set of girls.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Ramon has replaced them or fixed them up by now,” Marc and the Demons laugh at their careless disregard for another human being.

  See, I buy my guys some girls from a few different escort services a couple of times a month, because, let’s face it, in a town with a little over 200 people as the population and most of them being family of some sort, there isn’t a lot of choices here in Goldfield. So, I take some of the profits from our various enterprises and pay for some Vegas girls to come and stay a weekend, keeping my guys happy. These are the girls that the Demons sometimes intercept and decide to kidnap for their own pleasure.

  Esbirro shifts in straddling his bike, unsnapping the buckles holding his shotgun to the saddlebag. I hate that he carries that bulky weapon, but he won’t leave the clubhouse without it and it does make a statement. “Yeah, well, Ramon isn’t too happy with you. So put your tail between your pussy legs and get the hell outta here before I lose my patience and blow your fuckin’ heads off.”

  The Demons take a collective step forward, not being ones to take name-calling, and instinctively I try and push the woman behind me as I notice my guys sidling up beside me, forming a strong line. Her fingers loosen their grip, trailing down my forearm, skimming the back of my hand and resting on my waistline, the simple touch sending a strange warmth throughout my entire body even here in the warm night.

  I turn to ask her what her name is, looking down into her dark brown eyes being lit up by the still burning flare, but before the words leave my tongue a gunshot rings out and a look of terror filled pain crosses her gaze. She releases the hold on my waist, stepping back from me, and looks down at her chest.

  The roar of the Demons fleeing, as they usually do, drowns out the shouts from my guys trying to figure out where it came from. Still with my eyes locked on this woman, I see it. The blood rushing to stain her shirt through a gunshot wound in her left side. She looks back up at me, tears filling her eyes as her hands try to stop the flow and I reach out to her just in time to catch her from falling to her knees onto the blacktop.

  I’m cradling her in my arms as she brings her hands up, the fear growing in her brown eyes when she spots the blood on her hands. “They s-s-sh-shot me?” she whimpers.

  “You’ll be ok darlin’,” I tell her and swing her up into my arms while yelling for them all to get back to the clubhouse and call the Doc. Jogging over to the van that is waiting with the back doors open for me to hustle her into, my brother is crouched inside, a solemn look on his face and I know the look oh so well.

  Laying the girl on her back and wincing as she groans when one of my Enforcers, Bear, pulls her further in so that they can close the doors, I yank on my brother’s arm. “I know by the look on your damn face that you were the one to fire the shot.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him. “You get your ass back to the club and you better pray to whatever fucked up God listens to you and lets you think your crazy thoughts that this girl lives, or so help me…”

  I stop, seeing the hurt in Able’s expression. He may be my older brother but he has always been a little weak. I lean in closer and harshly whisper, “You just better pray, brother.” I let him go and slam the door in his face. Watching him scramble through the van and into the driver’s seat, he throws it in reverse; the tires screech as he whips it around to head back to town.

  I go back to straddle my Harley, bringing it to life with the familiar vibration soothing some of the nerves running through my body. “Your brother jus’ caused us some shit, didn’t he?” Esbirro, one of the two to hang back and wait for me asks. I look over to him as I pull on my skullcap, not bothering to buckle it. I need to get back to town and make sure the Doc has been called.

  “He probably has,” I reply, Esbirro and Tracker, my Road Captain, both laugh. “Preacher always does.” I grumble to myself, gunning the throttle and sailing through the first two gears within seconds. The taillights of my guys and the van are dots in the distance, and the dark of the night seems to be closing in on me, but there is one thing that won’t leave me and it bothers me more than anything else at this moment.

  Her brown eyes and the way she felt in my arms; it’s like they are burnt into my skin and mind. I don’t need woman problems right now, especially if my brother just shot her. So, scowling into the night, I punch the throttle even more, pushing my bike to a dangerous speed.

  Goldfield won’t be its quiet self on this night, that’s for damn sure.

  Highway Don't Care

  By

  Lani Lynn Vale

  The Freebirds Series (Book 2)

  Copyright ©2013 Lani Lynn Vale

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

  in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Her

  Snark. Jokes. Attitude.

  These were all things I used to disguise the hole in my heart. I'm not a happy person. I don't live life. I just exist. That is until that beautiful man rides in on his Harley Fat Boy and burns rubber on the way into my heart.

  Him

  My life's been no hayride either. Everyone I've ever loved in life has died or betrayed me. So I stay back and watch. Unless you're one of my brothers, you get nothing from me. I don't participate. I ride. I eat. I sleep. I work. And I repeat. That is until Ember stomps into my life with her bad attitude. She's all piss and vinegar, and makes me want to share my bike seat for the first time.

  Together

  They fight like cats and dogs. Don't see eye to eye on a single thing. They rant, rave, and yell.

  They bring out the best in each other. They heal each other's hearts and souls. They find what they were missing, even the things they never even knew they had.

  Everything is perfect. If you didn't count a gang, one of the biggest in
the South, gunning for Ember. That, or the pure evilness that is Gabe's ex-girlfriend. Gabe will have to put his life on the line to save the one woman he loves, but will it be enough?

  One thing is constant in life. It's about the journey, not about the destination.

  Excerpt:

  All eyes turned to me as I walked into the bay area of the garage. Everyone was there. Gabe, Blaine and Elliot, Sam and Cheyenne, James, Jack and Max. All the boys had beers in their hands, and the girls were drinking what looked like sweet tea.

  “So, how did he measure up?” Elliott asked when he saw me walk through the back door.

  Cheyenne and Blaine snickered and my stomach sank. Why would they ask that? Looking to Gabe for a clue as to what was going on, I found him giving Elliott the look. You know, the one where if it were possible, he’d be slicing you in half with his death ray stare.

  “How did what measure up?” I asked confused.

  “You know...the package.” Jack chimed in, glancing at Gabe then back to me.

  Glancing around, I tried to figure out what the hell they were talking about, but found nothing.

  “I’m confused. What are y’all talking about?”

  “Well, apparently, Ember dear, your man over here forgot to turn off the sound on his microphone. Your sexcapades were heard over the airwaves. Unlucky for you, everyone was playing at the time. So, how big was he best friend?” Cheyenne teased.

  My face flamed, and I was stunned speechless.

  They’d heard the entire thing!

  Turning my own death ray stare towards Gabe, I found him contemplating the rafter’s in the ceiling. I let my eyes travel down his t-shirt covered chest, down to his jean-clad package. This was one of those times where I was supposed to let it go. Unfortunately, my mouth didn’t agree with my mind.

  “Well.” I drawled, “I never got him out of me long enough to measure him. My Gabe has some stamina. I did measure him with my fists and mouth though. How big would that make him if he takes up both fists and all of my mouth?”

  They all looked thunderstruck.

  Poor Max’s face was bright red, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Blaine’s mouth was hanging open, and Gabe was close to crying he was laughing so hard. Albeit silently. It was the type of laugh when you were laughing so hard no sound came out.

  Cheyenne came unstuck first.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Come on, let’s go measure.” She said grabbing onto my arm.

  I shook her off, and turned back to Gabe.

  I slapped him on the arm and said, “Knock it off, you big galoot.”

  Naked Dirty Love

  By

  Selene Chardou

  The Rough Riders Series (Book 2)

  Copyright ©2014 Selene Chardou

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

  in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Club life is all about money, fast bikes and faster women. Most importantly though is brotherhood. Trey Lennon knows he had it as a Demon's Bastard but now he is a Lucifer's Saint, his life seems like he's starting all over again.

  Then she comes along.

  Kyra Hughes.

  The daughter of Jonesy Hughes, the President of the Demon's Bastards. The one woman Trey couldn't have as Demon's Bastard and the last person he should be attracted to as a Lucifer's Saints club member.

  The two clubs have kept the peace between each other for a long time but Carlito Navarro has other plans. He is intent on destroying the cozy situation between the clubs to make way for Aztecas Infierno, the MC and cartel who has his lifelong allegiance. Now he's found the club's weak link, he's going to use it.

  And burn it all to the ground.

  Excerpt:

  Everything was now official.

  Dizzy claimed him as his son, and welcomed his homecoming. Trista and Linx were safe, and would be able to go back to their glamorous life. For Linx, that meant being the bassist for the wildly successful band, Winter’s Regret; for his sister, that meant being the wife of a rock star. However, for Trey, nothing changed at all except his cut and his club.

  He didn’t have his girl and what awaited him in the future, as a member of the Saints, was anyone’s guess. He should have felt settled but an overwhelming feeling of restlessness had taken root and wouldn’t let go.

  Cillian strolled out of the clubhouse and made his way over, sitting beside him on the picnic table bench. Trey smoked a cigarette and glanced at the club VP before he looked away.

  “We got chapel in a few minutes, and Da wanted to make sure you were comin’. How you doin’?” Cillian said in a fairly strong Northern Irish accent.

  Trey shrugged his shoulders. “I’m as good as I’m gonna be.”

  His older brother stared at him for a long time. “You lost your girl, Trey. I’m not going to sugarcoat the situation and tell ya everything will be all right. When I lost Gisela, nothin’ was okay—”

  “She wasn’t dead, Cillian, just gone. Keri can’t come back into my life and I’ll never hear her laugh or see her smile again. Nel, her old man, had her murdered ’cause she was with me and that’s something I have to take to the grave with me. How am I supposed to forgive myself when I caused this nightmare in the first place? I shoulda never shot Brooklyn.”

  “Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” Cillian glared with cold blue eyes. “You can’t take anythin’ back now. All you can do is move the fuck on. Keri would’ve wanted that.”

  “Yeah, I know…but move on to what? To who?” Trey wondered as he stubbed out his cigarette.

  “Only you know the who, brother. As to the what, shit is about to go down with Aztecas Infierno and we need you on board. This negotiation is a make or break deal. We need you to straighten up and fly right. Be your usual badass self ’cause the manpower is a must. They think we’re gettin’ soft. I need some intel on what Carlito’s doin’. Every since he got together with Brendan’s daughter, he seems to think he’s got somethin’ on us when he ain’t got shit,” Cillian explained in a quiet voice.

  “Shouldn’t we be talkin’ about this in chapel? I mean, if the Feds are watchin’, we’re just givin’ them info.”

  One Ride

  By

  Chelsea Camaron

  The Hellions Ride Series (Book 1)

  Copyright ©2014 Chelsea Camaron

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

  in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Delilah “Doll” Reklinger never imagined her life with anyone that wasn’t a Hellion. She never imagined there would be a Hellion that could prove himself worthy enough to her father, Roundman, Hellions Club President. Content in living in the bubble of safety the motorcycle club family has always provided, Doll never thought that danger surrounded her.

  Roundman has kept the Hellions contained for the last thirty years by controlling the chaos surrounding their lifestyle. When the dangerous side to their business comes knocking on his door, he realizes his precious Doll isn’t safe. The Hellions code may be that women and children are off limits in any altercation or dispute, but that doesn’t mean their enemies follow that same moral compass.

  His only child, now in danger from the association to him and his club, Roundman makes a decision. He sends her away with a charter club member that he trusts, in hopes that the trouble won’t follow.

  One ride across the country. One simple ride.

  Talon “Tripp” Crews has been ordered to take Doll on one ride away and to keep her safe. She’s off limits. His head knows this, but his body can’t deny the attraction. She’s feisty, fierce, and fearless.

  Constantly in close confines together, can they deny the chemistry? Will they give into the desire? Can one ride turn lust into love?

  Excerpt:

  Doll

  “Tripp, you son of a bitch, I’m not done talkin’ to you.” He stops on the spot, but do
esn’t turn around. Rex and Sass are standing still by their bike watching everything as it continues to unfold. He’s making no attempt to acknowledge me. Frustration running high, I march up behind him. I poke him in the shoulder, in an attempt to get him to turn around. When that fails, I jab my finger into the top of his shoulder. Still, nothing. Walking around to face him, I’m met with a mixture of laughter and lust in his eyes. He’s enjoying this, the fucker.

  “You just fucking kissed me. I don’t even know your real damn name and you kissed me! You’ve insulted me, belittled me, taken me from my home to God knows where, and I don’t even know your fucking name!” I say jabbing my finger in his chest. Our eyes are now locked, battling each other in the stare downs of stare downs. My eyes are full of fury and his full of fun, maybe. Is this turning him on?

  “If you’re running your mouth so I kiss you again, it ain’t gonna happen Doll. You’re wound up. You need to release the tension. How ‘bout we see if Jared can give you some ink?”

  “You have lost your ever lovin’ fuckin’ mind if you think I’m going to let some friend of yours permanently mark my body. Again, I don’t even know your name. Yet, I’m supposed to trust some guy you know to tattoo me? Really? I may end up with Tripp tattooed on my ass.”

  He laughs at me. Not the little ‘ha ha you’re so funny’ kind of laugh. No, Tripp folds over holding his stomach because he’s laughing so hard at me.

  “What the fuck is so damn funny?”

  Tripp stands up. The smile now gone from his face, replaced with his ever present serious glare, he looks directly at me.