Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction: Avenging Angels MC Book 0.5

by Nia Farrell

  “Fuck,” he growled, and started to move. “You like this, don’t you, baby? Taking my cock up your ass. Jesus, you feel good. Warm walls hugging me, going deep, no end in sight. Take it,” he grated, jacking his hips and pistoning in, then cutting loose on her, reaming her out, balls slapping her pussy as he fucked her. Soon there was a break in his rhythm, a hitch in his breath. He tunneled in deep and held her tight against him as he came inside her, filling the end of his condom.

  When Mad Dog pulled out, Isabella collapsed onto the bed, sore in places she’d never been, wondering what the hell she’d just done. He took care of his condom, washed his hands, and stripped off his clothes before coming back to bed, wearing nothing but dog tags and ink.

  “Roll over,” he said, slapping her bottom when she failed to move fast enough.

  He’d brought a warm, wet washcloth to clean her with. His consideration touched her, and she blinked back fresh tears.

  The corners of his mouth turned down as he worked. “That’s the second time I’ve made you cry. Tell me it’s not gonna be a habit.”

  She sniffed, wishing she had a tissue. “Guess you’ll have to keep me around if you want to find out. I figured this was it. Don’t you guys, like, top ‘em and drop ‘em?”

  He chuckled. “You mean, hit it and quit it? Yeah, something like that. But every rule has exceptions. Richie and Anna, case in point. But, unlike Richie, I refuse to be anyone’s dirty little secret. You wanna be my old lady? You tell your folks, or I will.”

  Could she? Should she? “My dad might be tricky.”

  Mad Dog nodded as if he understood. “Just let me know when it’s done so I can watch my back.”

  “You think he’d what? Order a hit? Oh, Luke, believe me. You don’t have to worry about that with my dad. Nope. Not my dad,” she assured him. Coherent thought fled when he bent his head to kiss her. Later, Isabella promised herself, yielding once more to his possession.

  He’d know about Uncle Giovanni soon enough.

  And now for a sneak peek at

  FIND HER

  Avenging Angels MC Book 1

  by

  Nia Farrell

  Prologue

  Rose: It’s only a matter of time before they come for her again. Their party favor, Krissy Castellari. The Blackwater Demons MC took Miss High and Mighty five days after me. They’ll use her like a fuck toy until she’s broken, and from the crying I heard, they like to play rough.

  I’ll find out soon enough. I’d be up there with her, except that I’m the daughter of their rival and a virgin. The Demon’s president, Reaper, is saving me for his son, who’s due back any day.

  Footsteps sound on the stairs. Krissy looks wildly around the basement where they’re keeping us. Prissy Krissy never wanted anything to do with me in school. Now she’s begging me to save her. How can I, when I can’t save myself?

  It takes two of them to drag her away. Unable to watch, I focus on the basement window, good for little more than a patch of light when it’s daytime. I stare at it, and blink when I see the brilliant blue eyes of my brother’s best friend, Michael O’Flaherty. Only for a moment, then he’s gone.

  I say nothing to Krissy when they bring her back, but I cling to the memory like a lifeline, holding onto the first glimmer of hope I’ve had since being taken.

  Michael: The local mob boss Giovanni Visconti contacted me as soon as word came that his security guy was found dead behind a biker bar and the girl he’d been with—Visconti’s niece—had been taken. Krissy doesn’t know it, but there’s a tracking device in the bracelet that her uncle gave her. All well and good, except her late date took her off the grid so they could hook up, and no one in his organization knows fuck about passwords and hacking.

  Good thing that I do.

  I pinpoint her location. A few phone calls later, Mr. Visconti tells me that it’s a safehouse owned by the Blackwater Demons MC. He knows I was in Marine recon. He thinks I can extract her. I manage to convince him that enlisting the aid of their rivals, the Avenging Angels MC, might be his best hope for bringing her out alive. Right now, there are too many unknowns. Numbers. Weapons. Logistics—who’s where in the house. I need to scout it out. Once I know what we’re dealing with, I’ll call him from the field.

  Depending on what I find, it may be after I’ve talked to the Vice President of the Avenging Angels, Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan, my best friend since grade school and my brother in arms.

  I park off road and walk a mile in. There’s not a bike in sight near the two-story farmhouse. I’m guessing they’re parked in the machine shed out back. A basement window glows feebly in the dark, and I focus my binoculars on it, hoping like hell that Krissy is down there.

  She is, but she isn’t alone. They’ve got Mad Dog’s little sister Rose, too. Son of a bitch.

  The girls’ heads snap at the same time. They’re hearing something. Three Demons come down the stairs. Two of them drag Krissy away. When Rose turns her head toward the window I’m watching, the hopelessness on her face is wrenching. I know I shouldn’t, but I risk it anyway. Crawling to the house, I come close enough to the small pane of glass that she fucking sees me. Only for a moment, but she knows that she’s been found. Now if we can just get them both the hell out of there….

  Chapter One

  Five days earlier….

  Rose McLanahan slipped in a CD, cranked up the volume, and settled in for a long night ahead. Balancing the books at each of the Avenging Angels MC businesses was demanding, but none more so than their tattoo parlor Angel Ink. Flynn McGee, the man running it, really needed to learn some basics. She was getting so tired of his shit, and his same old excuse.

  He was an artist, not an accountant.

  True enough. But then neither was she, not really. She’d had high school business courses and one year of community college toward her goal of becoming CPA. It was her dream…and her ticket out of Southern Illinois. Once she passed her exam and got her license, she could go anywhere. Champaign-Urbana. Springfield. Maybe even Chicago.

  Right.

  Taking the shoebox half-filled with paper, Rose separated out the bills from the handwritten receipts that she entered into Accounts Receivable. On the books, Angel Ink had officially had a good week. Unofficially, only a percentage of the work had been done. The rest was laundered cash that she wasn’t supposed to know about, like she was an innocent child, or a blonde bimbo whose only counting was notch posts on her bed.

  Rose didn’t have any notches. Instead, she had a mind, and she knew how to use it.

  Midnight came. Then one AM. Fucking Flynn. Paying cash for deliveries way beyond what he’d listed in receipts. She was going to have to figure up the difference and leave a note. Again.

  Next Monday, she’d be playing catchup with a pile of back-dated receipts that had miraculously appeared.

  Sighing, she went back into Accounts Receivable on the computer. Rather than write everything down, she decided to print it. She’d been too focused to restart her CD before now, but she had to admit, the music made the building seem less scary, masking the creaks and groans that came with a century-old structure.

  She was about to hit play when she heard it. A noise that didn’t belong. Men’s voices. Things crashing. She grabbed her purse, dove under the desk, pulled out her cell phone, and flipped it open. Nothing. A blank screen. Fucking battery. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

  Rose had been raised on the mantra, if you need help, you call on the Angels. Dialing 911 would have the law sticking their fucking noses in where they didn’t belong. She might be able to punch three numbers and hide again. Calling the clubhouse, waiting for someone to answer, then they’d want to wake her dad…no, she’d be exposed to whatever was coming down the hall.

  She reached in again for her last, best hope—the Sig Sauer P290RS 9 mm that she carried in her purse. It had eight rounds of takedown power in the extended clip. Depending on how they were clustered, she could probably take out two, maybe three of them be
fore they got to her, but whoever was left would make her pay, and dearly.

  Either way, she was fucked.

  The door crashed open. Men came in, wearing heavy boots and accompanied by the smell of gasoline. File drawers were opened. They laughed as they poured. “All of it,” one of them said. “Otherwise Reaper and Mojo will have our asses.”

  Mother fuck. They were Blackwater Demons. Reaper and Mojo were the club’s President and Sergeant at Arms. Her only hope now was that they wouldn’t find her, and that she’d somehow escape the fire they were planning to set. Barring that, it would be the security system footage to show her family who had her.

  A quick glance behind the desk, and she saw a blank screen taunting her. Someone had probably turned it off for a late-night session that included kink and ink and had forgotten to turn it back on.

  Fucking Flynn.

  “Come on,” one of them barked. “Every room needs doused. Once we torch it, we can pick up a party favor.”

  “Or two,” said another. “Bad enough, I gotta go last. I need me some ass. The sooner, the better.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Drill ‘em and fill ‘em. Snake, how’s come you don’t never tell them what else you’re givin’ ‘em?”

  “‘Cause it don’t matter, Bull,” he laughed. “Ain’t none of ‘em gonna live long enough for the symptoms to show.”

  Oh, God.

  Hands trembling, Rose pressed her shaking fingers to her lips, squeezed shut her eyes, and silently prayed for deliverance. Footsteps sounded, headed for the door.

  God’s answer must have been not yet¸ because the next thing she saw was a scuffed pair of biker boots and the meaty fist that dragged her out by the hair and pulled her to a stand. Her purse was stripped away by someone with a weasel’s sharp face and a lean, wiry body, deceptively strong.

  Neither of them was wearing a cut.

  “Bull!” Weasel called. “We found our party favor! Lookee here!” Plopping her purse on the gas-soaked desk, he pulled out her billfold and opened it up. “No fucking way!” he crowed. “Hey, Bull!” he yelled towards the opened office door. “We got fucking Rose McLanahan! The Avenging Angels’ Little Princess! What’s your daddy thinking, girl? Letting you out of the compound this late at night? Papa Bear needs to keep better track of his cub. Guess he’ll learn, won’t he?”

  “What the—?” A burly biker stopped just inside the door, the scowl on his face morphing into something much more frightening. “Goddamn,” he whistled, sweeping her with a lecher’s gaze from her head down to her toes and back up to fasten on her almost-C-cup breasts. “Let’s hurry the fuck up and get the hell out of here. Reaper will want first crack at this one. I’m calling seconds.”

  “What the fuck?” This, from the beefy one fisting her hair.

  “I’m in charge of this operation, Tank. I get next go, once he’s done with her. God knows how long that will be. Not every day he gets an Angel to warm his bed. The President’s daughter, no less. Tie her up, tape that mouth, and get a fucking blindfold on her. Be quick about it, Maggot. We shoulda been gone by now.”

  Maggot—the weasely one, probably a prospect, with a name like that—cursed beneath his breath.

  He used packing tape to bind her wrists in front of her. When it didn’t want to stick to the skin of her face, he wound it completely around her head. Taking a crumpled bandana from his back pocket, he shook it out, folded into a triangle, and covered her eyes, pulling it tight before tying a knot at the back of her head.

  The excess fabric hanging over her nose reeked of stale sweat and chewing tobacco. The cage they shoved her into didn’t smell much better.

  “On your knees, girl,” Tank growled. “Ain’t that how they do it in your club? Have you crawl and beg for whips and chains and all that kinky stuff? Let me tell you something, girlie. Real men don’t need that shit. Only toy we need is a fuck toy. Any party favor comes into our club, she’s in for the ride of her life. A one-way ticket to paradise if you’re lucky…or the highway to hell if you’re not.”

  Look for Find Her –

  Avenging Angels MC Book1

  coming soon!

  Author’s Biography

  Nia Farrell is the author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a 2016 Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens. A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt, she’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days.

  Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years. She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes. In her book Something More, BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD, earning a nomination for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.

  Her debut books from The Three Graces series, Something Else, Something Different, and Something More, are kink with a paranormal twist. Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play. Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it’s her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States, with a Monty-Python-inspired diner that’s central to the plotlines.

  Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on. She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband’s suggestion. She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

  NIA FARRELL TITLES

  Something Else (The Three Graces Book One). Three soulmates forge a future from the flames of their pasts in an interracial New Age New Adult MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance. “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good.” Released August 25, 2015. Length 17,872 words.

  Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/SomethingElseWP

  Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG1

  Something Different (The Three Graces Book Two). Starving artist Anna James has sworn off men. Rock gods Jackson and Jacob Thomason just promised her the best sex of her life. Does Anna dare submit to the part-Comanche twins who perform as No Mercy? Released September 29, 2015. Length 17,235 words.

  Teasers and except at http://bit.ly/SomethingDifferentWP

  Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG2

  Something More (The Three Graces Book Three) Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards. Rachel Givens is supposed to be dead. She has post-rape PTSD and a three-year-old autistic daughter, father unknown. When her former lovers—a biker and a porn star—walk into the restaurant where she works, this single mother learns just how much more she can handle. Release October 15, 2015. Length 18,613 words.

  Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/SomethingMoreWP

  Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG3

  The Three Graces Trilogy (paperback) includes Something Else, Something Different, and Something More. Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the USA and home of the Three Graces—three young women whose names all mean “Grace.” Three women. Six men. Things are about to get interesting. Released April 2, 2016. Length 230 6x9 pages.

  Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TGr

  Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six—the sequel to Something Else). When morning sickness hits the house, a Dominant veteran with PTSD and an American Indian musician propose to give their psychic submissive a very special honeymoon. They’re giving Grace the capture fantasy of her dreams at Replay, a BDSM theme resort where patrons role play in the past. Released May 5, 2016. Length 21,578 words/105 5x8 pages. Nominated Best Erotica and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

  Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TG6WP

  Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/TG6

  Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/TG6p

  Audiobook buy link http://myboo
k.to/TG6a

  Dark Moons Rising. On the most dangerous night of the year, a daughter of light finds unexpected sanctuary with two dark lords, handsome as men, stunning as centaurs. An otherworldly sword-and-sorcery paranormal shifter ménage erotic romance novelette. Released March 10, 2016. Length 9,210 words.

  Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/DMRWP

  Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/DMR

  Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/DMRp

  As Wicked as You Want (Forever Ours Book One). It’s a past life for The Three Grace’s Nico, J.T., and Grace, a Victorian erotic romance BDSM MMF ménage with a bisexual British history professor, his American stepsister who’s been living as a man since serving in the Civil War, and her Irish messmate who serves as apprentice in her art studio and who has been fighting his attraction to “Lane.” Released August 1, 2016. Length 155,467 words / 609 pages.

  Voted #1 Erotica and #10 overall, The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016. Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

  Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/AWAYWWP

  Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/FO1