by Debra Kayn
All her life she'd chewed her nails. She hated showing her hands to anyone and would hide them at every opportunity. No matter what she'd tried—polish, rewards, mints, sitting on her hands—she'd failed to break the nasty habit that became impulsive when under stress.
To her surprise, two months ago, she broke her thumbnail when she caught her hand in the filing cabinet at the garage. The accident so foreign to her, she sat on the floor and bawled. She hadn't even realized her nails were past the skin and it'd been a couple of weeks since she could remember putting her finger to her mouth.
Dawson caught her having a major meltdown and sat on the floor with her in his lap. It took ten minutes for her to calm down and share her success with him. She'd grown over the last year, but it wasn't until seeing her nails sprouting above her skin that she accepted and validated how far she'd come.
"See? All better." Dawson rolled up to a sitting position, kissed her hard, and stood from the bed. "We better hustle if we're going to be ready in time."
"I'm going to freshen up." She stood from the bed. "Do you think it's going to rain?"
"It's not supposed to, but bring your heavy coat. It's cold outside." Dawson walked to the closet, and a knock came from the other side of the apartment. "Fuck."
She glanced at the clock. "They're already here?"
"I guess our quickie turned into a Longie." Dawson grabbed a pair of boxers out of the drawer and chuckled. "Go get ready. I'll stall them."
Roni gathered her robe and hurried to the bathroom. The concert at the park would start in a half hour. Scott and his girlfriend Yvonne, Luchek and Karen, and Jerald and his newly married wife Tia were joining them for their weekly Saturday night date to the concert and out for a drink afterward.
She smiled inside while she washed her body clean. The first time Dawson surprised her with their perfect date, he'd jokingly stood outside the apartment door, kissed her goodnight, and she'd accidently closed the door on him when he hadn't followed her inside.
To her amusement, she reopened the door and dragged him by the hand straight to the bedroom where he made sweet love to her. He hadn't forgotten the ending to the date they'd created together back at Red Light, and neither had she.
She rinsed the soap off between her legs and patted the towel against her. No time for a shower, she rushed back to the bedroom and dressed for the night. Five minutes later, she walked out to the living room ready to go.
"Hey, everyone." She hugged Karen, Yvonne, Tia, and waved to the guys before grabbing Dawson's hand.
"Maybe there will be a good group playing tonight. I think the last time I went to one of the concerts Pearl Jam, before they were famous, played at the park." Luchek swung his arm around Karen and followed the others out of the apartment.
Roni looked up at Dawson as he locked the front door and smiled. She never went to the park for the music. She went because she loved the weekly reminder of how much she loved Dawson.
Out on the sidewalk, each couple walked together in a straight line with Dawson and Roni taking up the rear of the group. She looped her arm around his back and tucked her hand in his pocket. He'd been right on his forecast. The stars were out, and the temperature was perfect for snuggling.
They arrived at the park a few minutes after the concert started. Rock music blared through the crowd. Dawson stopped at the edge of the crowd, and she slipped in front of him letting him wrap her against his chest.
It was a perfect night.
With her perfect man.
On the perfect date.
She tilted her head and looked up at him. "I love you."
He kissed her upturned lips. "Love you more, sweetheart."
Dear readers —
Thank you so much for reading a series based around prostitution. I saved Roni's story until last, because of the abuse she endured growing up and through adulthood. I understood it would make readers uncomfortable, as it should, to learn about someone suffering. But, we can't ignore reality. We have no right to judge.
There are many, many people who are abused each and every day. We ask ourselves why it happens, and we get no answers. We can't wrap our head around the details and what the abused person must be thinking. We just don't know, and we never will.
What I've learned from stories about the prostitutes in my hometown of Wallace, Idaho and how the bordellos were run filled my head with all kinds of possibilities for stories I could write. While so many of the sex workers were confident and happy with the choices they made in life, there were some women whose only option was to sell their body. Sex masked the trauma and abuse they suffered through and allowed them to hide from the real world, and themselves. We must not forget those who wished to be forgotten.
Usually at the end of a series, I give readers a sneak peek into what they can expect from me next. I've already spilled the secret over social media that my next novel will be in the Motorcycle Club Romance category. My break was well spent by writing a ton, bringing you Red Light: Silver Girls series and putting another series on the shelf for later. It's time to go back to the men who ride motorcycles, love their club, and live a life few will ever experience.
To refresh your memories, I gave you two generations of bikers with the Bantorus MC series, and I messed with your minds and brought you the toughest unredeemable bikers around with Moroad MC series. It's time to do something bigger. Get ready, because my next biker book is going to be like nothing you've ever read before. I'm leaving Federal, Idaho in the new book and bringing you a new club, new bikers, new location, and some heart-stopping suspense. I can't wait to share it with you.
Feel free to follow me on Facebook and my website to keep up on the news.
Love,
Deb
Author Bio
Best Selling Romance Author, Debra Kayn lives with her family at the foot of the Bitterroot Mountains in beautiful Northern Idaho. She enjoys riding motorcycles, playing tennis, fishing, photography, and creating chaos for the men in the garage.
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 unbelievable romance book.
Website: www.debrakayn.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/DebraKayn
Facebook: www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage
Debra Kayn's Backlist
Blow Softly – Red Light: Silver Girls series
Touch Slowly – Red Light: Silver Girls series
Fall Gently – Red Light: Silver Girls series
Wrapped Around Him – Moroad MC series
For Life – Moroad MC series,
His Crime – Moroad MC series
Time Owed – Moroad MC series
Falling For Crazy – Moroad MC series
Chasing Down Changes – Moroad MC series
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 He
arts, 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 – Wrapped Around Him
Book 1, Moroad Motorcycle Club series by Debra Kayn
Chapter One
In the shade of the blue tarp pitched off the side of an old travel trailer, sixteen-year-old Jeremy Aldridge sat in a woven, plastic chair oblivious to everything around him. Christina Nickelson noted the boy's solemn expression, one that he always wore, the new scratch along his arm, and the lack of parental supervision—that wasn't required twenty-four/seven for a boy his age.
As Jeremy's former social worker, she wanted to find a reason to bring her suspicions of abuse or neglect to the judge. Her head pounded from the heat of the sun filling her car. Nobody could convince her that Cam Farrell was a good father.
Unaware of her staked out on the road, Jeremy flipped through a magazine, his ankles crossed and propped atop a metal beer keg. An ache settled behind Christina's eyes, and she rubbed her temple. Officially, she'd closed Jeremy's case when full custody went to his birth father.
She glanced down at last year's photo of Jeremy clipped to her file. She swallowed the lump of emotions choking her. He held himself stoic from life's harsh realities, never letting anyone else view the hardships he'd endured in his short life. Maybe that's why she couldn't let Jeremy's case go. She understood his need to hide his feelings from everyone.
She lived with her own loss, loneliness, and fear. The first couple of years after she'd lost both her parents to murder were a blur. The anger, the hurt, the need to understand why life decided to play a cruel trick on her soon showed up and never left.
So far, Jeremy's young life was even worse.
His mom passed away of a drug overdose three months ago. Christina ran her thumb along the edge of the binder and lifted her gaze back to the teenager. His mother's death wasn't the first time she'd met Jeremy. She'd followed his life for the last four years when the school contacted her about unusual bruising.
It wasn't until Jeremy's father stepped up after being an absent father the child's whole life and brought the teenager to live with him that she became even more concerned. She slid the file under the driver's seat of her car. Something about the arrangement didn't feel right, and it wasn't the threat she'd received from Jeremy's dad to stay away from his son or the knife he'd put to her throat, threatening to kill her if she stepped foot on his property again.
When she'd collected herself from that horrifying experience, she'd witnessed Jeremy's wide-eyed shock at the violence by a father he'd never met before that day. She stared out the front window of her car. That reaction from Jeremy held more emotion than she'd ever seen him shed in front of someone before.
She knew that paralyzing fear intimately, until the most unlikely person taught her not to be afraid. If she hadn't reached out and received help, she'd still be stuck in the hell she'd found herself in. The least she could do was unofficially keep an eye on Jeremy and pay the help she'd received forward to someone else.
A deep, haunting rumble drew her attention away from Jeremy. She studied the dust cloud rising in her rearview mirror and turned the keys in the ignition of her late model Honda sedan. The approaching visitor could only be going to one house and though she was not on private property, she wasn't comfortable being caught watching Jeremy.
She put the car in reverse and backed off into the patch of weeds at the side of the road. Heart racing, she shifted into first gear when a motorcycle rider stopped right in front of her, blocking her exit.
The biker's dark gaze caught hers through the windshield. Her stomach pitched, recognizing Mr. Farrell. She gripped the steering wheel with all her strength. He'd warned her not to come back.
Even from twenty feet away, she could feel the contempt rolling off him. She pressed her back into the car's seat. At six foot four, he towered over her by almost a foot. She couldn't guess how much he weighed, but it was a lot. His chest and arms strained against his ragged jean vest. His size alone warned her not to underestimate him.
She glanced to her right, to her left, and turned her head and peered out the back window. If she tried to drive around him, she'd go in the ditch or hit a tree.
A low roar broke through her fright and another dust cloud rose up in the road, growing in intensity. Her hope that others were coming to help her crashed into the pit of her stomach when she caught sight of more motorcycle riders. As the president of Moroad Motorcycle Club, Mr. Farrell had backup. They weren't here to help her.
Without giving anything away, she reached over, rolled up the driver's side window, and hit the lock button on the door. Her whole body shook with the need to flee. The added security only reinstated the danger of being here.
Glass windows would not stop a man who had already held a knife to her throat.
Two bikers stopped beside Mr. Farrell in front of her car. Sweat broke out between her breasts, and she wanted to desperately pull her Tee away from her body and turn the air conditioner on.
She'd purposely stayed on the public road, in case Mr. Farrell spotted her. It was her right to be here. He couldn't hurt her when she was following the law.
She blindly reached over to the passenger seat for her cell and swiped the screen taking the phone out of standby. The moment Mr. Farrell looked away from her; she glanced down and wanted to cry. The Bitterroot Mountains with its many peaks and valleys made getting reception difficult, and she was in a dead zone.
What was she going to do? No one knew her location. She kept to herself, because making friends meant explaining her past to them. Even calling 911 was out of the question. If her boss found out she used her free time to check up on a closed child welfare case, the county would fire her.
Children had a right to move on with their new life, and her work creed demanded that she not become emotionally involved with the kids within her care or the guardians. She'd always followed the rules, until she had to say goodbye to Jeremy and his biker dad threatened her.
Even though she only worked part time for the county, the job gave her a roof over her head and enough food to survive. She was a minimalist, and her needs were little.
Mr. Farrell got off his motorcycle and walked toward her car. She shoved the phone between her legs and held on to the door in case the lock gave way. He appeared twice as big and scary today.
His gloved fist banged on the window. She flinched and pointed toward the road. "Excuse me, if you and your friends could please move, I need to leave."
"Get out." His low, rough voice came through loud and clear through the glass.
She shook her head. "I'm late for an appointment."
Mr. Farrell stepped away from the car and walked to his motorcycle. Relief weakened her body and she held on to the steering wheel, ready to leave. The second they moved their motorcycles, she was out of here.
The biker with an ugly white scar running down his left bicep and a tattoo of the devil on his right bicep unclipped a long braided rope from the handlebar of his motorcycle. She strained to hear what Mr. Farrell was telling the man, but over the car's rough idle she couldn't make out a single word. A few seconds later, Mr. Farrell sat on his motorcycle and revved the engine. She inhaled a deep breath. Once he moved out of the way, she'd leave.
Intent on watching him ride away, she almost missed the object flying through the air out of her peripheral vision. On instinct, she ducked and turned away from the window. The explosion of sha
ttered glass barely made any sense to her when a strong hand squeezed around her upper arm, removing her from the vehicle. Horrified, she gawked at the stern mustached man holding her before looking back at her car.
Glass littered the inside of her seat and the door stood wide open. She gasped, tugging on her arm, but he held strong.
She jerked harder. "Let me go."
The man yanked her back, and she stumbled into his body. Her throat and lungs screamed. She dropped her hand from his chest, not wanting to touch any part of him.
"Cam wants you in the house." The man forcibly led her down the road.
She searched all around her, looking for someone she could yell to for help. The other biker with the scar rode past them and parked in the yard. She looked toward the trailer for Jeremy, but he was gone.
Her arm ached under the man's hold. She dragged her feet. Surviving was her only option. She had to find a way to get back to her car and leave.
Mr. Farrell's promise to kill her if she contacted Jeremy fresh in her mind, she pulled harder, digging her sneakers into the gravel. Her shoes created a dust trail of their own. She had to get away.
"Listen, I don't know who you are." She cried out in pain, trying to pry his fingers from her arm. "I turned down the wrong road. I just want to go back to town."
"Coming here was your first mistake." The man pulled her past the travel trailer and dragged her up onto the steps of the porch to the two-story, run-down house Mr. Farrell owned.
Jeremy came out the front door and stopped. "Ms. Nickelson? Stache? What's going on?"
"None of your business, kid." Stache stepped around Jeremy, shoved her inside the house, and closed the door.
She scrambled to get to the door and leave when Jeremy swung through blocking her way. Lightheaded and scared, she grabbed Jeremy.
"I'll get you out of here," she whispered. "All we have to do is—"
"Outside, kid." Mr. Farrell leaned against the stair railing in the foyer. He gazed at her intently. "Now."
