FORGIVENESS
NOMAD BIKER ROMANCE SERIES
CHIAH WILDER
Copyright © 2019 by Chiah Wilder
Kindle Edition
Editing by Lisa Cullinan
Cover design by Cheeky Covers
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please purchase only authorized additions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Insurgent MC Series:
Hawk’s Property
Jax’s Dilemma
Chas’s Fervor
Axe’s Fall
Banger’s Ride
Jerry’s Passion
Throttle’s Seduction
Rock’s Redemption
An Insurgent’s Wedding
Outlaw Xmas
Wheelie’s Challenge
Christmas Wish
Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 1 – 4)
Insurgents MC Romance Series: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Box Set (Books 5 – 8)
Night Rebels MC Series:
STEEL
MUERTO
DIABLO
GOLDIE
PACO
SANGRE
ARMY
Steamy Contemporary Romance:
My Sexy Boss
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Notes from Chiah
Author’s Note
About Retribution
About Animal’s Reformation
Other Books by Chiah Wilder
CHAPTER ONE
Flux
“Hey, Flux. I guess I’ll see you tonight at the Alamo Ale House around the usual time?”
Jared “Flux” Hughes glanced up from his phone as he leaned against the open doorjamb of his motel room. Flicking the ash off his joint, he stared at the hulking dude who was passing by his room with a sweet piece hooked under his arm. The pretty redhead could barely walk straight and giggled while she threw Flux an appraising look. Even though he didn’t know who the hell the guy was, he grunted at him and a large grin spread over the bastard’s face like he’d just won the damn lottery.
“Gonna have me a good night.” The guy winked and planted a kiss on the redhead as they threaded their way into a motel room a couple doors down from Flux’s. “See you over at the bar, okay, buddy?”
“Sure, buddy.” Flux threw his joint down and stubbed it with the toe of his boot, lit up another one, then rested his head against the doorframe. The shallow solidarity and the haze of weed numbed him as he slightly closed his eyes.
Flux inhaled and took a sharp hit of the hot-as-fuck air that made rivulets of sweat crisscross his chest. Though the AC unit clunked on in the background, he preferred the heat. At the very least, it made him feel something. He winced on another thick drag as the smoke curled around him. Tucson, Arizona, is nothing but fuckin’ cacti and sand. The thought ran through his mind over and over while he watched the sky go up in flames as the sun hit the horizon. Most people would have thought it was beautiful or some shit. Flux just wanted a beer and an excuse to crash.
“Another fuckin’ day over … and how the hell many more are there gonna be?” he muttered under his breath as he scanned the parking lot in front of him.
He was always aware of what was happening around him—an old habit from his time with the Insurgents MC, and it stayed with him despite his nomad status. If anything, his lack of backup was reason enough to pay extra special attention to his surroundings, which meant fight or flight was a hardcore green light. Plus, it kept him spry and quick on his feet in the rodeo ring when it was only him against a 1,500-pound confused and manipulated bull looking to take out its frustrations on a guy scrambling across the dirt who had just been thrown on his back.
Flux flicked the joint onto the ground and rubbed it out with his heel. He groaned and massaged the back of his neck. His eyes slid closed for a few seconds, then he forced them back open and swallowed hard, refocusing on the parking lot, which was starting to fill up for the night with the day’s rodeo crowd who didn’t feel like driving home.
Envy overtook him as he watched them; their night was as good as gone. Pressing the palm of his hands against his eyelids, his jaw clenched. Flux’s night was just getting started—insomnia was a real big bitch, and it had some nasty talons stuck into him. He could tell that it was going to be another long one by the way the weed sat through his system. Time to get a new dealer … again. Damn body absorbed pain and took on immunities like a fucking champ. Only this time? He didn’t feel much like cheering. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t feel much of anything and that’s the way he preferred it.
The only thing about the night that would be different than any other was the pretty face Flux may or may not bring back to his bed. Otherwise, it was a never-ending line: same time, same place, same shit. He cracked his knuckles and watched a few kids hop out of a minivan while their parents struggled to get all their gear from the hatchback.
“April, Billy! Get over here. Your mother needs help,” the cookie-cutter father with a cowboy hat called out.
The two pre-teens grumbled as they walked slowly to the back of the van.
“Take chances to be kind when you see them,” their father said as he picked up a couple of suitcases.
A small girl of about four rushed over, her dark hair blowing in the hot breeze. “Gimme, Mommy.” The small voice was as bright as a sunbeam.
Flux stared at the girl as another voice from long ago filled his ears. He clenched his hands into fists until his nails dug into his sweaty palms. The child took the small bag from her mother and followed her father across the parking lot. As if sensing Flux’s gaze, she turned her head toward him and a shy smile tugged at her lips before she rushed into the room.
Flux stared at the empty spot she’d just occupied and a
rush of memories flooded his mind. Fuck no! No! Welcoming the pain, he pounded his fists against his head, hard and steady, as he shoved the recollections that threatened to resurface back into the padlocked box that lingered in the dark corners of his mind. For several seconds, he stood there gulping air until the shadows were gone while he crossed his arms over his chest and slowly relaxed.
The screech of rubber caught his attention, and he side-eyed over to the commotion as a cherry-red pickup truck pulled into a spot, spitting gravel in the process. The ignition jerked off with an audible hitch that bounced across the parking lot, and Flux weighed the idea of heading out to the bar now. The truth was, he wanted to get back on his Harley—even the smallest ride cleared out his skull for a couple seconds. His fingertips were already itching to clutch the vibrating handlebars as he sat there turning it over in his brain.
His attention got shot to shit when a curvy blonde hit the pavement from the pickup’s driver’s seat and slammed the door. Flux homed in on the lucky SOB who got to stare at the chick’s tight ass in those jeans when he came out of the other side of the truck. The man, who was wearing cowboy boots and a hat, hissed something barely audible—a faint echo across the air. But whatever he said must’ve had something to do with Blondie because she squared her shoulders and threw the cowboy a death stare. After a few seconds, the chick sashayed around the car in sky-high heels, which made her wavy hair sway back and forth across her back.
A low growl came from the back of Flux’s throat. Come on, baby. Turn around so I can see the rest of you. The woman pointed a finger at the man, and even though Flux couldn’t hear their argument, there was no doubt it was heated. Blondie was right up in the dude’s face, and she was giving it as good as he was—which was impressive considering Cowboy had a good foot on Blondie. When the dude raised his arm with his hand clenched into a fist, Flux straightened up as a shot of adrenaline surged through him. If this jerk had any idea of hitting this chick, Flux would make sure the asshole would spend the rest of the night in the emergency room. No matter what the situation, Flux never tolerated that shit, and he wasn’t about to make an exception now.
“You cold bitch!” the man screamed.
“And you’re an asshole!” she yelled back.
The guy threw his hands up, fists flexing in the air before he shoved off the passenger side of the truck. “You’re a fucking waste of time.” He gave her the middle finger and stalked away toward the motel rooms at the far side of the lot.
Flux relaxed and chuckled as he watched Blondie fluff her hair as if she didn’t give a damn that Cowboy had just stormed off. Look my way, baby. If she looked half as good as her backside and profile, he may have to approach her and strike up a conversation. At least there was something different going on at the motel, because for the past several days, the highlight of his nights had been watching the local hookers pedal in the parking lot while unsuspecting tourists gasped and averted their eyes.
When Blondie turned to watch the asshole stomp away, Flux jerked backward, nearly tripping over himself and back into the motel room. He sucked in a sharp breath. Damn! It wasn’t just a sweet ass she was rocking, she was fucking gorgeous. And those lips … He groaned inwardly.
Even in the fading light, Flux could see the pink tint of sunburn painted across her nose and cheeks. Her golden hair danced around her shoulders in a mass of waves his fingers itched to touch. An inch of skin peeked out between the bottom of her tight tank top and the top of her even tighter jeans—a tempting sliver of flesh that he had a sudden, overwhelming desire to explore … with his tongue. His gaze moved upward and landed on a pair of rounded tits that he guessed would fit just right in his large hands. He skimmed the bottom of his lip with his front teeth. Fuck.
Flux’s Levi’s grew tight in the crotch, and he shifted as he tried to relieve some of the discomfort. What the fuck? One look at this hot chick and my dick acts like I’m in high school? The glaring fantasy that shot through his mind of her plump lips locked around him and his hand tangled in her hair while she stared up at him up? Yeah, that wasn’t helping to calm him down. Fuck. Flux stood stock-still as he watched Blondie pull down that damn form-fitting top, then strut her fine behind in the opposite direction while she tossed her car keys up and down into her open palm. He blew out a long breath then closed the door to his room. After that tease, he needed to get his ass to the bar and lose himself in a few beers and shots of whiskey. Flux strode over to his motorcycle, looked one last time at the hot chick as she entered her room, revved up the engine, and sped away.
The country-themed dive bar wasn’t packed to the studs with locals yet, but Flux knew it was only a matter of time before they started to pour in. Since the rodeo had been in town, the Alamo Ale House had been his go-to watering hole. The beer was cold, the food was edible, and it didn’t cost him an arm or a leg when he got the tab. But if truth be told, it was like any other dive he’d frequented on his constant travels while his life swirled further down into the depths of hellish darkness—one fucking second at a time.
“Whatcha want, honey? Jack or Budweiser?” the waitress asked.
“One of each, Cassie.” The cute brunette had become one of his favorite barmaids—she remembered what he drank and she left him the hell alone. All the other waitresses tried chatting him up, batting their lashes and hinting for rides on his bike and on his dick. He didn’t go for that shit. No woman had ridden on the back of his bike except for … Alicia. No fuckin’ way I’m going there.
“Here you go, honey. Just call me over when you’re ready for another round.” Cassie turned around and headed toward a table of men.
Flux recognized the bull riders at the table. He’d worked with all of them at one time or another. He was the one responsible to keep these guys safe once the bulls threw their asses off of them. Flux had only been seventeen the first time he’d faced a half-ton bull in the rodeo arena. As a bullfighter, his job had been to distract the animal once the bull rider was on the ground. He’d loved the rush of adrenaline and had decided that would be his career until one hot and humid day when he was nineteen years old, he met Hawk, Banger, Throttle, Hubcap, and Tank at a biker rally in Elgin, Texas. The town was just south of Johnson City, his hometown, and he’d never seen so much chrome, tattoos, and badass motorcycles as he did that weekend. After that, Flux had traded in his horse for a Harley-Davidson, and he made his way to Pinewood Springs, Colorado, to prospect for the Insurgents MC.
Flux shook his head. Damn … that seems like a lifetime ago. When his world had flipped upside down in such a horrific and unspeakable way, he couldn’t get his head on straight. He couldn’t stay still—he was restless and had to get away and keep one step ahead of the memories. He’d gone to Banger, the president, and told him he was too fucked up to be any good to the brothers. Flux wanted to go nomad, and after a unanimous vote from the brotherhood, his bottom rocker was replaced by the word Nomad. That had been six years ago, and he’d crisscrossed the country more times than he could count, but the fucking memories never went away—they were constant reminders of the guilt that ate at him all the time.
“Come on, honeycakes. Let me give you a kiss,” Chet Teel said, his Arkansas drawl irritating the hell out of Flux, but then, anything Chet did irked the fuck out of him. The bull rider and the bullfighter didn’t care too much for each other.
“You got enough women clamoring to give you a kiss—you don’t need one from me,” Cassie said as she placed a bunch of beer bottles in front of the men.
“But you’re the one I want, honeycakes.” Chet wrapped his arm around the brunette’s waist, but she spun out of it and rushed away. “I didn’t want that bitch anyway.” Chet picked up his beer and brought it to his lips.
“That’s right—you’re still trying to get lucky with Maggie,” Louie said. The other men guffawed.
“Damn right,” Chet replied, glaring at them.
Flux caught Cassie’s eye and lifted his chin. She ambled over.
“Might as well.” He jerked his head toward Chet. “If that asshole proves to be more than you can handle, let me know. I’ll take care of him.”
A soft smile turned up her lips. “Thanks, Flux, I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be back in a few with your drinks.”
Flux watched her disappear into the burgeoning crowd and took a long drink from the neck of his beer. He was positioned in the corner of the bar and it gave him full view of the door. It was a perfect angle to watch for any signs of trouble or any hot chicks who might pique his interest.
Soon a good-looking redhead was on his radar as she made a beeline for his loner corner like a homing missile. Fuckin’ great. Flux ran a finger through the condensation along the side of his beer bottle, then put it down in front of him. The only woman he wanted to approach him was Blondie, not this pumped-up woman who looked like a typical biker groupie: too much makeup, too-small clothes, and desperation oozing out of every pore. He made sharp eye contact, shook his head no, and abruptly looked away. “Take the fuckin’ hint, sweetheart,” he muttered, refusing to look and see if she was still charging forward on her misguided quest to get her fingers wrapped around his dick.
The front door pushed open, and the small hairs on the back of his neck sprang up when he saw Blondie walk in and sway her way across the room until she stopped in front of a vintage jukebox. Her curvy hip rested against the machine while she stared at the contents. In the five nights that Flux had spent at the bar, he couldn’t remember anyone getting near the jukebox that was stocked with forty-fives. Maybe he’d just go on over and help the sexy lady make a good selection. Blondie would be an improvement to the women he’d brought back to his room the past few nights, and he had to admit that he’d love to have a few rounds with her between his sheets. If she was even ten percent as good in bed as she was sexy, he’d have hit a home run. He might even break his damn rule and invite her for another night in his bed. His one-night-only rule kept him sated—no emotions, just carnal lust. That was just the way he needed it.
Forgiveness Page 1
