Wild

by Laramie Briscoe

  Wild

  Heaven Hill Generations #2

  Laramie Briscoe

  Contents

  Copyright

  Also By Laramie Briscoe

  New Release Alerts

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Thank You!

  Connect With Laramie

  Also by Laramie

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 Laramie Briscoe

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  * * *

  Edited by: Elfwerks Editing

  Cover Art by: TE Black Designs

  Proofread by: Dawn Bourgeois & Danielle Wentworth

  Beta Read by: Keyla Handley & Danielle Wentworth

  Cover Photography: Deposit Photos

  Also By Laramie Briscoe

  Heaven Hill Series

  Meant To Be

  Out of Darkness

  Losing Control

  Worth The Battle

  Dirty Little Secret

  Second Chance Love

  Rough Patch

  Beginning of Forever

  Home Free

  Shield My Heart

  A Heaven Hill Christmas

  * * *

  Heaven Hill Next Generation

  Hurricane

  Wild

  * * *

  Rockin’ Country Series

  Only The Beginning

  One Day at A Time

  The Price of Love

  Full Circle

  Hard To Love

  Reaper’s Girl

  * * *

  The Moonshine Task Force Series

  Renegade

  Tank

  Havoc

  Ace

  Menace

  Cruise

  * * *

  Stand Alones

  Sketch

  Sass

  Trick

  New Release Alerts

  JOIN MY MAILING LIST

  http://sitel.ink/LBList

  * * *

  JOIN MY READERS GROUP

  fbl.ink/LaramiesLounge

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for reading my books!

  If you’ve ever felt alone - know that you aren’t, and eventually you’ll find your person!

  * * *

  - Laramie

  Blurb

  He was my salvation...

  * * *

  Addalynn “Addie” Blackfoot

  I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, doing something I shouldn’t have been doing. As Tyler Blackfoot’s daughter, I know better. There are expectations to being who I am, but I’ve never fully lived up to them.

  Adoption.

  It’s supposed to be the answer to prayers – both for the parents and the child. Me? I’ve always felt a little out of place, like I couldn’t settle down, a flower blowing in the breeze, waiting to be uprooted.

  Until the moment he stepped in front of me, taking the blade of the knife meant for me. I didn’t know his name, but the way he looked at me, it was like he knew all my secrets, but didn’t care. It was reckless and passionate, and I never thought of the consequences.

  I figured after I got what I wanted from him, I could break it off and never see him again.

  I was wrong.

  * * *

  Wilder “Wild” Evans

  * * *

  She came into my life when I least expected it. Strong, fearless, and ready to take whatever the asshole holding the knife was going to dish out.

  For months after, I couldn’t get enough of her. Her joy in life, the way her eyes lit up when she saw me, and the smile that popped dimples in her cheeks when she wasn’t paying attention. She calmed every part of a man who’d never had steady and I craved it.

  Then it was gone. She became a different person, left without a trace, and ignored my texts.

  Fate intervened, and I found her again.

  I'm her calm...

  She's my wild...

  Prologue

  Addie

  March (The Present)

  “You’re so full of shit.” I hug Tatum tightly around the neck, doing my best to get my emotions under control. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried,” I reference the wreck my best friend had while running from her boyfriend’s crazy parents. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister, and when I heard she’d been in an accident, my mind immediately went to worst-case scenario.

  Conditions had been treacherous after an ice storm had almost crippled Warren County, and Tatum had lost control, ending up with an injured ankle and a totaled SUV. As I’m about to say something else to her, the doorbell to CRISIS, the women’s shelter my mom runs, rings, causing us to both glance up at the camera positioned over the door.

  And this moment is when my normal day comes to an abrupt end. The man standing at the door is one I’ve been hanging out with lately. In secret. Meaning no one knows, except he and I. Since we started, I’ve wanted to keep it that way. Yet here he is, right in my damn front yard.

  What the fuck is he doing here? Hurrying out, I open and close the door, pulling him away from the entrance, hoping no one else can hear what we’re about to say to one another. I’m not prepared to answer the questions that his presence here today might bring forward.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss, folding my arms over my chest. Part of the move is self-preservation, to keep him from getting too close. The other reason is because of the chill in the air - it’s gone down to my bones. Badly I want to snuggle up against him, the way I did last night after he’d gone to sleep and before I snuck out in the dark of the night. I shiver because the weather is cold still, patches of ice cover the ground, snow falls down softly, and if this was any other situation, it’d be damn near romantic. But I’m not normal, and this situation is what it is.

  He takes those sunglasses of his off, pushing the bag he’s holding towards me.

  “Your clothes. Figured you might want them back, especially when you left in the middle of the night in just a pair of my sweatpants and a t-shirt.” His fa
ce holds a mocking smile. It’s obvious he’s unhappy with me and pissed off about the way I left. Irritation is evident in his expression as he stares down at me.

  My face burns and I pray that no one has turned on the mic at the door, that they aren’t hearing this. The situation with Wilder Evans is so complicated, such a fucking shit show. I don’t relish explaining it to anyone who might ask. In the time we’ve been hanging out, he’s gotten too close. So that means I need to push. Push him as far away as I can. “You can burn them for all I care.”

  “You and I both know that’s a lie, Addie. The bra and panties? They’re your favorites. They’re my favorites.” He gestures between us. The heat in his eyes burns me to the core. I’ve never known a man as intense as he is, and maybe that’s what scares me the most.

  I close my eyes against the picture he makes standing over me. All broad-shouldered, hair a little too long, scruff covering his entire jaw, those blue eyes of his bright as he stares at me. The leather jacket he wears gives him the look of a man not to be messed with. The black jeans that are almost white at the knees and crotch rest easily on his hips, just the right amount of baggy I like. The wallet chain, the watch he wears on his wrist, the silver belt buckle, the earrings in his ears, and the ink I know that rests underneath the shirt he wears. Everything about Wilder turns me on.

  But he’s dangerous. Reminds me way too much of my Dad and makes me want things I swore I never wanted. In a life where I’ve never felt I truly belong, the man standing in front of me is the other piece to my irregular puzzle shape. While I’m the bottom right corner that only has so much to give – he’s the piece that snugs right in, connecting me to the rest of them all. That shit’s scary and exactly why I push him away.

  He swept into my life when I least expected him, but right when I needed him, simultaneously pissing me off and taking a knife to the side that I should have taken. Since then we haven’t been able to stay away from one another, but we both know it has to stop. When I don’t take the bag, he sets it on the steps, and then leans in, his lips pressing against my cheek. It almost breaks my heart, the sweetness of it all, the soft way he caresses my arm, moving his fingers down to mine.

  “Don’t.” I turn, but not quick enough to avoid the affection.

  “C’mon Addie, you and I both know this isn’t over.” He puts his sunglasses back on.

  “Yes it is,” I say the words with steel in my voice. Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll be true.

  “No, it’s not. People like us? Who aren’t sure where we fit? We fit together. We’re the outlaws, the outliers, the rebels without a cause. Only we do have a cause. To figure out where the fuck we belong.”

  “I don’t belong anywhere,” I argue, fully believing what I’m telling him. There’s a rambling spirit inside me, one that wants to explore everything, see where I truly feel at home.

  A devilish smile spreads across his face, the same type of smile that got him into my panties the first time. “You do, you belong with me.”

  “I don’t, Wild. I really don’t.” I shake my head, breathing in the cold air, hoping it settles the raging sea of my stomach and heart. Last night, I did feel a peace with him I’ve never felt anywhere else before.

  “You’ll see. I’m gonna show you that we belong.”

  “I don’t belong anywhere. Don’t know my real family, don’t know where I came from, have no fucking idea where I’m going. It’s in your best interest to just let me go.”

  He gives me a look before he starts walking to his bike. As he gets there, he swings a leg over, taking a seat. I know exactly what it’s like to have him straddle me the way he’s straddling the seat, and I’m trying like hell not to let that distract me. He starts the bike, giving me a wave as he leaves.

  I watch him until I can no longer see him, before I pick up the bag and go back in, where I tell a questioning Tate that I don’t want to tell my story just yet.

  My heart is just starting to calm when my mom comes in with hot chocolate for us. As she hands me mine, I’m not prepared for what she has to say.

  “Your dad called from the clubhouse while you were talking to Wild outside. He said to tell you thank you for taking care of him, but there’s no reason now you should be hanging out with the new prospect outside of club situations.”

  Prospect? When the fuck did that happen? How could he not have told me over the last few days we’ve spent together?

  And that’s when I realize life totally is out to get me, and it’s thrown me a great big fuck you. As I look down at my feet, I have the thought maybe sometimes to move forward, you have to go back. Back to where it all started, even if that beginning is as big of a mystery to you as it is to everyone else.

  One

  Wild

  January (The Past)

  Inhale the future, exhale the past.

  I read that on a shirt somewhere in a gift shop at the beach. It was hanging above all these wooden signs that had white-girl wasted sayings on them. You know, the ramblings of a girl who’s had her heart broken and gotten drunk on three glasses of wine. Those sayings always made me roll my eyes. I never believed any of them were true until this morning when I packed the saddlebags of my motorcycle to the brim, put on a backpack and started heading north up I-55. I’m not sure where I want to go, all I do know for sure is I wanna be anywhere but here. Mississippi has nothing and no one for me. The only things that matter are the bike between my legs, the memories in my brain, and the container of ashes that hold the only person who ever gave a shit about me.

  Exhaling is getting a lot easier the further I get away from the pain, the loneliness, and the same old shit. On the horizon as I head north, is the unknown, it may not be better, but it can’t be much worse than this nothing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Cities pass as I ride, heading nowhere in particular. All I know is I want to go north. I pass Jackson and Hernando, Memphis once I cross the border, hopping onto I-40 and then at Nashville I hit I-65.

  Hours later I approach a city called Bowling Green. It’s normal-sized, bigger than where I’m from, I realize when I see a sign proclaiming it’s available for the next five exits. As I’m approaching exit twenty-eight, my bike starts making a horrible noise.

  “Of course,” I say to the wind, to anyone who will listen. “Of course this shit would happen to me.”

  I coast off the exit and into a parking lot of a placed called Wet Wanda’s. I have no idea what this is, but it looks like a strip joint. At this time of early evening, no one is in the parking lot and as I come to a stop, my bike dies. There’s a gas station across the street, but there’s no one for me to call.

  I’m alone in the fucking world.

  There’s no one to even know I’ve left or where I’m going. Never has the feeling of complete abandonment been so front and center as it is right now. There’s a heaviness in my gut, a tightness in my throat. Is this where I give up? Is this the end for me? When I finally say enough is enough and tell this cruel place I’m in both physically and mentally I’ve had enough?

  It would be so easy. So goddamn easy. Nobody would miss me. Nobody would care. Hell, nobody would even know. I’d be just another John Doe waiting for someone to identify me. Only no one would show up. No different than what’s happened in many other towns all along this great nation.

  Looking to the left and right, I try to make a decision, what is it I’m going to do? For all intents and purposes no one even knows the name Wilder Evans – it means nothing – if I get rid of my wallet before I do it, I can leave without a trace.

  As those thoughts are jumbling around in my head, running through my mind like one of those trains I lived near back in Mississippi, I hear the rumble of motorcycle pipes. That reminds me of the shitty farmhouse back in Mississippi too. Every time a train would go by, a swift wind would come through, it would shake the structure. Knocking off the pictures my grandfather loved of his bride in happier times. Back before my mom made a mess of things, and I b
ecame an extra mouth to feed. Or let’s call it like it was – a smart mouth dick who needed someone to love him.

  Thank God for gramps, because I didn’t even know what it felt like to have arms wrapped around me the first time he gave me a hug.

  The sound of those bikes gets closer, and I begin to feel nervous as I see two men wearing cuts. I’ve never been affiliated with a MC, not officially, but when I did hang out with others back home, they were all joined in. They classified me as a hanger-on, and I guess my whole life has been something of that nature.

  The two men come to a stop in front of me, both shutting the motors off. Even though one of them wears a full-face helmet, and the rest of us wear sunglasses, they watch me. I know they do, and I watch them. There are a million ways they can see me. Am I just a loner passing through? Am I someone coming here, trying to make trouble?