Contents
Revved Up Soul
CHAPTER ONE Jasmine
CHAPTER TWO Jasmine
CHAPTER THREE Jasmine
CHAPTER FOUR Jasmine
CHAPTER FIVE Luke
CHAPTER SIX Jasmine
CHAPTER SEVEN Luke
CHAPTER EIGHT Jasmine
CHAPTER NINE Jasmine
CHAPTER TEN Luke
CHAPTER ELEVEN Jasmine
CHAPTER TWELVE Luke
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Jasmine
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Luke
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Augustus
CHAPTER SIXTEEN Jasmine
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Jasmine
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Luke
CHAPTER NINETEEN Jasmine
CHAPTER TWENTY Jasmine
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Augustus
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Kayla
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Jasmine
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Luke - 17
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Jasmine
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Jasmine
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Luke
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Luke
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Augustus
CHAPTER THIRTY Luke
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Jasmine
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Luke
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Jasmine
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Gabriel
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Jasmine
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Kayla
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Luke
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Jasmine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Luke
CHAPTER FORTY Jasmine
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Luke
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Gabriel
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Romance In Red
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR Augustus
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Jasmine
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Luke
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN Jasmine
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Epilogue
Revved Up Soul
Steel Knights Motorcycle Series
#1
Written By: Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Kathryn Lorde
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2015 by Liz K. Lorde
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CHAPTER ONE
Jasmine
For a week straight now she had seen the mysterious and handsome stranger roaming the halls of St.Augustine; yet he was nowhere to be found this morning. Stop fantasizing, she chided, the guy is probably as bull headed as he looks.
Jasmine Giuseppe was sitting alone again today, unsure of how satisfied she should be with saving the life of two criminals – saving a gang member’s life was hardly the same as rescuing a family man from the jaws of death. The hospital’s lunch area was bustling with the usual chatter; complaining about the macaroni and cheese, eying fries and fawning over cheesecake.
Was she tempted? Absolutely, would she give in? Not today.
Jasmine lazily poked at her salad, which was laced in her favorite dressing of thousand islands. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t make any friends; did nobody like her at all? Connecting with people was never this hard. At least her mentor, Augustus Lark, would sit with her every once in a while.
Jasmine sighed and then ate a small helping of her salad. Too bad I didn’t straighten my hair today. Jasmine curiously pushed around a few leafs of her salad. She had long, thick, curly ringlets of raven hair that when she stood up would hang to her ass. She’d learned over her years of residency that getting close to people was a dangerous thing. Patients die, friends of friends pass, Brothers— Jasmine’s eyes stung then, welling up and threatening more. Stupid, she thought.
That was when a plastic brown tray of fries, practically a mountain of them, absolutely covered in cheese, crashed down to the other end of her table. What the hell was this?
A man sat down, dressed tightly in a black biker jacket with his jet hair swept into a small pony tail.
Jasmine eyed the man carefully, staring daggers into him – in hopes that he might openly bleed for the intrusion of her space. Fluttering, nervous little butterflies made her chest dance with excitement.
The devilishly handsome biker turned his chair and kicked his feet up onto the nearest seat; grabbing a cheese laden fry and popping it in his mouth. He had the most shit eating grin Jasmine had ever seen on a person’s face, like he had just climbed a mountain and was ready to piss off its end. She noted the thick bronze ring on his finger, but could not make out its engraving.
“Can I help you?” She snapped in a whisper. Her heart tapped quicker against her breastbone. She’d never seen eyes such as his. One brown as tree bark, the other blue as a summer’s sky. The blue in them reminded her of Mr. Prestly, oddly enough – she had hesitated that day.
Hesitation, it was the currency dealt by death. She shuddered, pulling herself from that moment.
The Biker popped another golden, crispy … Jasmine had to look away. Suddenly her salad didn’t seem nearly as satisfying. She flicked her gaze back to the man, admiring his roguish and handsome face – he had just a bit of stubble, not too much, enough to give him a sexy and rugged look. He had a hooked nose and upturned eyes. Jasmine felt a tightness form in her core.
Ugh. Not a chance, steel cowboy.
Languidly, the man picked up another fry and brought his feet off of the chair, turning to face Jasmine and leaned forward. “Yeah, you can sit there and look pretty for me,” he japed, “can have some fries too, if you want,” his voice was much deeper than she had expected, given his childish demeanor.
Wow that’s not grating at all. Jasmine raised her eyebrows, “Uh, no,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
“Why?” The Biker teasingly brought the fry up and above his head, letting it slowly sink down to his mouth – not breaking eye contact.
“That’s disgusting.”
Crunch. Then a moan. Even his stupid and exaggerated moans were strangely satisfying to hear.
“I seriously don’t understand how you can eat that pile of crap,” Jasmine chided, flicking back a couple strands of her raven hair. Chili cheese fries are infinitely better than just cheese fries. Mom, rest her soul, would be rolling in her grave if she saw Jasmine now, turning down a plate of fries for some silly salad. “You’re going to ruin that body of yours,” Jasmine added casually, a wave of heat rushed through her then and a nervous sensation pricked at her feet.
Shit.
The Biker laughed something deep from his chest. “I know how to take care of my body,” he replied confidently, his gorgeous and oh so exotic set of eyes gleame
d playfully. “Need me to help you take care of yours?”
Her jaw dropped and her brows rose half an inch. Liquid fire filled her veins. W-what? Was he serious? She could feel her cheeks blushing like the morn as she squirmed in her chair. I’m actually being hit on right now. And then something peculiar happened – something vastly unusual for Jasmine’s routine interactions with the opposite sex – even for as different as it already was.
She laughed.
“I mean come on.”
Jasmine’s tongue was locked with devil’s love, and her body had long since submitted to nervousness.
He pointed with his thumb and index finger at Jasmine’s bowl of salad. “You gotta get some meat on those bones little lady – kick back and let live,” he raised his chin in emphasis. “You feel me?”
She brushed back her hair and smiled. “Is this your routine?” She asked. “Peddling food to health conscious and fiercely independent doctors?”
“Nah,” he took a moment to eat and then cocked his head. “Should it be? My usual shtick works pretty well.”
“Oh?” Jasmine batted her eyes, only barely aware of her quicker breathing. “Enlighten me, steel cowboy.”
“Ride like my life depends on it and live each day like it’s my last.”
Damn.
The Biker’s smirk widened half an inch, and he offered his hand to Jasmine. It was a big hand, or at least in comparison to her own delicate little ones, a real man’s kind of hand. She could see callouses on his fingertips.
Dark, sensual waves crashed against Jasmine’s core – leaving her feeling exposed.
“Luke,” he said, softness in his voice. In that moment he could not have sounded more divine. “Luke Reynolds.” What a sexy—no! Control yourself woman.
Jasmine reached her hand to join Luke’s and shook it – her itty bitty hand dwarfed by the man’s She curiously noted the contrast of his white, pinkish skin against her own, which her mother always told her was ‘kissed by the sun’. “I’m Jasmine Giuseppe,” a half smile walked across her face. “And just so we’re clear, cowboy, I’m not available, so don’t get anything going through that thick skull of yours.” It was true in a way, she had her career to focus on – the past still haunted her too much. More than she wanted to admit.
“I’d never dream of it, Doc. Not my type anyway.” Like hell I’m not, was that supposed to be a challenge? For the first time since she had moved to Sequim, Jasmine had finally made a friend.
If she could just stop wanting to jump his bones at least.
Day One of Seven.
Taking the stairs was always exhausting considering just how much Jasmine had to be on the move during her shifts at St. Augustine; but it kept her figure slim and in an odd way she cherished them, since it helped to clear her mind. She had a peculiar longing for the man she’d met yesterday.
I wish I was home already. Season three of House M.D and a pint of cherry ice cream – was there really a better way to spend the evening? If only Robert Chase were real, she swooned.
Jasmine worked her way up the staircase, fingers of sunlight pouring through the windows while dust particles danced to their own tune.
The concrete walls were a simplistic gun metal color, but along them were graffiti of various different things – all color and urban and creative – funded by the hospital through Project Hope. The image of young Alejandra popped into her head, the rebellious girl’s face twisted into a sneer; she had dark and stormy eyes that held too much pain for such a young wildcat.
Nose twitching, Jasmine could smell the familiar foulness of a cigarette. The residents frequently used the stairwell as a place to destress, but she hadn’t caught anyone on the way up and was expecting the trend to continue. She felt a hot pulse throughout her body when her eyes landed on the man.
Well if it isn’t the jerkface himself. “Hey,” she called out.
Luke shifted his head, looking down at Jasmine as she traversed the steps. His person was leaning against the yellow railing, his arms resting lackadaisically. He exhaled a long breath of smoke. “Hey yourself,” he had another drag, “wasn’t expecting to bump into you – looked for you at lunch.”
He looked for me? Jasmine wanted to force herself not to smile, but she was powerless. “I didn’t see you,” she replied, finally reaching the next floor and leaning with her backside against the railing, next to Luke. In her head, she pictured a mass of residents flooding into the small confines of the stairwell, all puffing away at their various cigars and cigarettes; still wouldn’t move, she thought. Jasmine was just delighted to have ran into him.
“Tomorrow then,” he suggested, blowing thin strips of smoke away from her face. At least he’s not a total asshole. “Unless,” he paused, giving a deadly smirk that sent waves of heat straight to Jasmine’s core, “you’ve found someone else to torment you with food you secretly want. In that case I’ll find some other hottie,” he shrugged, trying to contain his amusement.
Jasmine chuckled dryly. “Like anyone else in this hospital of the opposite sex could put up with a dude like you; I keep a stress ball in my pocket just for you, you know,” she snarked.
“Flattered.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “And don’t go around using ‘hottie’ what are you eighteen? Hells bells.”
“Shit,” he blurted, “didn’t know you were five-o.” Luke stubbed out his death stick and flicked it carelessly down the stairwell. He then pointed to the muscular biceps on each of his arms, “swear I’ve got licenses for them.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes harder than she thought humanly possible. She pictured herself with a whiffle bat that had the word ‘nerd’ written in sharpie on it. I’d beat him senseless, I mean really. It was then that she pulled herself back to reality and noticed something peculiar on the ground. A Polaroid? She bent down to pick it up, looking at a much younger Luke, whose arm was locked around a young boy of a man; the boy looked just like Luke, save for the fact he had a messy, tousled mop of black hair.
Squinting, Luke inspected the photo in her hand. “Oh,” he said, taking the picture from Jasmine’s hand. “That’s mine – didn’t realize it even fell.”
“Who is it?”
“Hmn? Oh, that’s my baby bro.”
“You two look pretty inseparable,” Jasmine noted.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “What can I say, he’s my compass. Keeps me from bashing in too many skulls,” Luke then crossed his arms into a dominant pose, the sexy leather jacket creaking against the flow of his body. “Seriously though, if you’ve got the hots for my bro – I’ll shoot him myself, or give you his number. Haven’t decided yet.”
“Oh stop,” Jasmine gave a short laugh. “I don’t need any more blood on these hands because of this body,” Jasmine gestured for emphasis.
“Right. We’re doing lunch tomorrow, so be ready for that.”
Jasmine put up a hand and started walking away, wishing that her white coat wouldn’t hide her ass so well when she wanted to occasionally show it off. “Yeah we’ll see about that,” she answered, leaving through the door.
Day Two
She looked and looked, but to no avail; she couldn’t find him. Today she had decided to be adventurous and try the pan fried salmon along with her Cesar. She could imagine the soft texture of it even now, melting in her mouth like butter. The salmon was drizzled in succulent oil, salted to perfection with a dash of lemon pepper that invited her nose to take in all of the wonderful smells; Jasmine’s stomach grumbled and her mouth began to salivate impatiently.
So hungry. Just as she impaled the slab of deliciousness a hand shot out, holding down her plate and another hand joined it, a plastic knife cutting away a good chunk of the fish. What the hell!
Luke scooped up the piece and ate it all in one go, before dropping his plate casually onto the table. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “not bad!”
“Does it taste better because it was mine?” Jasmine scowled, venom drippin
g from her every word. She noted the black thing on the floor.
“Absolutely,” he responded, sitting down and eating away at his slice of supreme pizza. It had a golden, cheese filled crust – topped with black olives and savory pepperoni; she could smell the browned onions. Munster cheese was melted gloriously over the bread and the crown jewel of the slice was the smattering of jalapenos. He placed what remained of his slice back on the plate, cleaning his hands and mouth of the grease.
Jasmine felt her face redden and she looked away from the man, wishing someone would fan her off or possibly throw her into a frigid stream. Eating like an undignified slob should be disgusting but he makes it look … god I just want to—ugh! “Why are you even here,” she interrogated, springing up and slicing off a portion of his pizza. “And two can play at that game, you know,” she barked, sitting herself back down. Twin serpents of fire twisted up her spine. Jasmine nibbled on her portion of the stolen pizza, nodding, “I should steal people’s food more often, this does taste better,” she said more to herself than anything.
Luke chuckled, “Mannn you’re a spitfire today,” he said. “I like it.”
“Well get used to it, you piss me off.” Oh, and you kind of make my heart sing – and you make my head hurt … and you just wind me up so well. Her eyes fell back onto that black object; it had to be his wallet. “That your wallet?” She pointed to it.
Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance Page 1
