Dear Reader,

Heller Raiders MC romance series. Bad boy bikers, dangerous drama, and lots of spice. These are gritty stories including violence, drug use and graphic language. Get ready for a wild ride. Some readers may find content disturbing.

Blue is an emotional story with childhood sexual abuse, sexual assault, drug use and addiction, murder, violence, suicidal thoughts, and dark themes. If you have concerns with these triggers, please consider your mental health before reading.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Blue

Two things drew a crowd to the Heller Raiders MC—weddings and funerals. Not that you could tell a difference between the two. Patches were always getting drunk, getting laid, or getting high.

Outside, bikes rumbled. Inside, girls danced in the center of the chapel, the main gathering room of the club. The clubhouse was a converted church. Fitting, since the MC was the closest I’d ever come to finding salvation. I’d never be saved, but, at least, with two wheels down, I wasn’t dying.

Music blared through the room, and the party bled out into the parking lot where fire crackled in the oil drum. The oil drum wasn’t my scene. I’d heard enough of the old timers talking about riding when outlaw riders could outrun the law.

Rogue, VP of the Heller Raiders, lifted his beer for a toast. Here we go.

“According to wedding tradition,” he said, “the best man’s speech should last as long as the groom can in bed. But we all know Bullet, and no one wants to listen to me talk all night. So, here’s to women and Harleys…and the Hellers who ride them.”

The toast felt like a punch to the gut. They called me Blue because it’d been a while since I’d gotten my dick wet. I’d slit my wrists, eat my gun, or jump from a fucking building before I let anyone discover the truth.

My problem wasn’t getting girls. My issues were deeper and darker. I swallowed hard and ignored the burn of memories I’d choke on before I’d fucking dredge up the cesspool of emotions festering in my gut.

Kodiak hollered. “May your wives and lovers never cross paths.” Then he laughed and wrapped his arms around Bristol who was sitting on his lap.

“Former lovers,” Lacey clarified.

“Stormy, you’re a brave woman.” Vega tossed back a shot. “Bullet, I don’t know fuck about love. But honor her by getting on her and staying on her.”

Vega, Kodiak, and Steele were the newest patches in the club. Former Night Crawlers. They’d protected Bullet while he killed the Crawler MC from the inside.

Murph lifted his glass. “May your wedding night be like fried chicken, a bit of breast, a little thigh, and finger-licking good.”

“You all are assholes, and these are terrible toasts,” Bristol said. “Stormy is my best friend.”

Bristol and Lacey were both Bullet’s former whores, otherwise known as his kittens—his way of claiming their pussies as his property. Although Bullet declared his pimping days were behind him. The guy was a legend. I wanted to be just like him. Ride, fight, and fuck like a beast.

I was one for three. I rode a black and powder-coated Nightster, but I didn’t fight for recreation. Some of the guys enjoyed going to the basement of the MC just to beat the shit out of each other. Nah, I held grudges. If you tried to get a sneak on me, I’d fucking pound your head into the curb, and kick the shit out of you. I might not be strong enough to go fist to fist, but I fought dirty.

Another cheer went around the room. Another toast. Another round of drinks. Another fucking reason to get out of here. This was the shit that pissed me off. The Heller Raiders were celebrating, as if my life hadn’t been fucked over again.

I wasn’t pissed that Bullet married his lay. I guess even a pimp could get sick of professional pussy, not that I would know. I didn’t sample the product. Bullet traded in skin. The girls worked, and I’d made sure no one damaged the merchandise.

Protecting the girls was therapy. Being around pussy was better than seeing a shrink. My head was fucked, and it had nothing to do with the concussion I’d gotten six weeks ago when Stormy’s ex beat the fuck out of me.

I didn’t blame her. I did blame Bullet. He should’ve told me to watch my back, that some mafia hitman and Stormy’s ex were looking for her. Bullet owed me that much. I never would have let Kiss stay at Indulgence, Bullet’s massage spa. I wouldn’t have promised her she’d be safe with me. I wouldn’t have spent three weeks in bed while Kiss crawled back to the streets. I wouldn’t have this knot of rage burning in my gut.

“Blue, why so blue?” Levi maneuvered into the chair next to me, not an easy task with her belly the size of a beachball.

I had to admit, I loved the girl. Everyone loved her. She was like an alpha-hole whisperer when it came to Hellers. When she was around, we all seemed to find our manners. Everyone except Romeo, treasurer and pretty boy of the MC. Not that he was an asshole to her. The opposite was true. According to the girls, Romeo did her dirty. And she loved it. He couldn’t keep his hands off her or, apparently, his dick out of her.

I had an unhealthy preoccupation with sex. Maybe because I had a fucked up history with it.

Jazzy smirked and sat across from me.

“Don’t say shit,” I said to her. Although I was grateful for the distraction. Anything to keep my focus off fucking. Jazzy was a boner killer for me. Good thing because she was Rogue’s old lady, the only patched female in the MC, and she could kick my ass.

“I think your concussion affected your personality,” she said. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Jazzy and I had a tumultuous relationship. I’d say she was like a sister, but I’d never say the shit I said to Jazzy to my sister. Although I didn’t say anything to my sister. Not anymore. We hadn’t spoken in six years, and I was good with that. She could fuck off along with the rest of my family. I was better off without them.

Hana and Jazzy were like a professional tag team when it came to ball busting. Only Hana was dynamite. She came in a small package, wore a property of Blade cut, and she was brutally honest.

“Look at them,” Hana said as she watched the dance floor. “It’s the ballet version of beauty and the beast.”

Stormy stood on her tiptoes, balanced on top of Bullet’s boots as he danced with her. I was glad he was able to save his girl, glad he married her, and had his happily ever after. Good for him.

My life was still fucked.

“I need a drink.” I pushed away from the table and crossed the room to the Altar, the club’s bar.

Cruz stepped up next to me. “There’s a party tonight.”

My pulse spiked. Just what I needed, something to get me out of the MC for the rest of the night. Another opportunity to find Kiss.

In the last six weeks, Cruz and I had become friends while I’d been laid up in Blade’s room. Cruz rented the next room over. Our president hadn’t said anything yet, but my time squatting was about up.

I needed fast cash and a new place to live. Before I’d been clocked by the mafia hitman, I’d been renting a room above a hair salon downtown. By now, those locks would have been changed. Thankfully, Jazzy had grabbed a lot of my things while I’d been in bed. Who knew where the rest of my stuff was now, not that I had much to lose.

Since Bullet had closed down Indulgence, I’d become an entrepreneur. Romeo had hooked me up with his source. Parting out eighths was giving me a bit of scratch, and an in to find Kiss.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Cruz followed me to Blade’s room. I grabbed a half dozen baggies of weed and stuffed them into the inside pocket of my cut. Because we were dealing, I carried a pocket pistol.

“How long did it take for you to get your patch?”

Still prospecting for the MC, Cruz wore a cut but without the colors. I’d earned my patch the hard way, not through time, but through service. Hellers and Crawlers had gone to war. I’d proven my loyalty.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Cruz as we stopped in his room. “Nothing changes until your mom puts you up for a vote.” I didn’t know how long it would take for Dozer, Cruz’s sponsor, or mom as we called him, to patch him in. “Dozer is going to make you work for it. Know your club history. Fuck, dude, hang out at the oil drum, get the stories from the old timers.” I slapped his back. “When it happens, you know I’m a yes.”

“You fucking owe me for tonight,” he said with a laugh. “The party is at a trailer on the west side. Bruh, a lot of traffic runs through my friend Kane’s place. He’s chill, but lately I’ve had to ditch his scene.”

“What’s the issue?”

“His sister, Hayley. We hook up occasionally, but it’s nothing serious. We partied a couple weeks ago. She passed out, and I ended up having a threesome with one of her friends and her boyfriend.” He checked his weapon and slid it into his pocket along with his cigarettes. “Hayley’s pissed.” He chuckled. “I never pretended we were anything but friends, and we were barely that, but I guess I was a bit more serious for her.”

I stalled, but not on the threesome, and not that Cruz would split a chick with another guy. If I’d learned anything about Cruz, it was that he didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Apparently, even his fucking girlfriend.

“Fuck, dude, you’re with McKelle. Does she know?” The walls in the MC weren’t soundproof. For Cruz and McKelle, a good fucking either followed a good fight between them or caused one.

I knew because most nights I stayed up with a hard dick and listened to them fuck.

“Yeah, we fought about it. McKelle is fucking psycho, but she’s mine.”

We slipped out the side door, climbed onto our bikes, and rode out of the MC. Should I feel like shit leaving Bullet’s wedding reception? Maybe, probably, but fuck it.

With the wind in my face, and the roar of the pipes of my bike, I should’ve been flying high. But I couldn’t shake the mental playout of what I would do when I finally found Kiss. I was pissed at her for running from me.

I understood she had a volatile history with the MC, and a lot of it was shit. She’d overdosed on heroin in the bathroom. And she had a fucked up relationship with Levi and Romeo. I got it. She hated seeing her ex best friend with her ex bad habit boyfriend, but Levi and Romeo were solid. Levi had a bean in her belly due to pop any day. Romeo was all in with her. From what Jazzy had told me, he always had been.

Another reason it had to hurt Kiss to see them together.

She still owed me more than a fuck off because she was uncomfortable with her former friends. Six weeks of being left on read. I’d broken the dating rule of repeat texting, and I’d tried calling a couple times.

Nothing. If she wasn’t coming to me, she was depending on someone else. Sobriety was a fragile thing. Kiss had been in bed with black for a long time. Black, as in black tar heroin. Before the situation with Bullet and Stormy, she’d been hitting the methadone clinic and trying to find ways of staying clean. Three trips to rehab hadn’t helped, and I wasn’t much of a sober sponsor.

Maybe because I had fucked up issues of my own.

Cruz and I rode to a shit part of town. The roads were rough, and the neighborhood was rougher. Some of the homes had boarded-up windows. Graffiti tagged street signs. Following Cruz, we turned into the Shady Valley mobile home park. Dogs barked as we rode through the old trailer court. The stench of rottenness saturated the air.

Residents loitered on their porches. This used to be Crawler territory. The club was dismantled, but there were still patches lying low. My Heller cut was going to be noticed.

Cars lined the narrow street. Cruz stopped and parked in a gap between two trailers. He nodded toward the older trailer with faded paint on the right. A couple of guys leaned against the rail of a weathered, wooden porch. A blond flipped his hair from his eyes, waved to Cruz, and separated from the group.

Cruz dropped his kickstand. I did the same, stripping off my riding gloves and resting them on my fuel tank.

“You made it,” the guy said and fist bumped Cruz. “I should’ve mentioned Hayley’s inside.”

“Is she still pissed?”

The guy laughed at Cruz’s question. “She still won’t talk to Piper.”

Cruz climbed off his bike. “Then Piper owes me. I’ll take a blow in the bathroom.”

“You’re a dick.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. Dax dried Hayley’s tears. What’s up?” he said to me.

“Kane, this is my friend Blue,” Cruz said.

I stepped closer and shook Kane’s hand.

“I hear you’ve got something for me.”

“Papaya Kush.”

“Sweet.”

If I was going to sell to his friends, I was going to have to get him high. We entered the trailer. I kept one hand in my pocket, but adrenaline was firing through me. The house reeked of weed, and the stale stench of filth.

Dishes filled the sink, and the counters were cluttered with open bags of chips and twelve pack boxes of cheap beer. Stains marred the threadbare carpet. Cigarette butts floated in half-full beer bottles, and a mangy tabby cat stretched along the back of a worn couch.

Typical of the parties and trap houses we’d been crashing, people gathered in the kitchen. More people mingled in the living room. A blonde girl sat on a guy’s lap and toked on a joint. Not Kiss. If she wasn’t here, at least, I could make a little money.

When we walked into the living room, those on the couch moved off and gave space to us. I pulled a baggie and my pipe from my pocket and handed them to Kane. He loaded the bowl, brought the pipe to his lips, and inhaled long and deep.

As he held his breath, he passed the pipe back to me, but I nodded to Cruz. Once he’d taken a hit, he gave the pipe to me.

Kane blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “Fuck, dude.” He leaned his head back, reached an arm behind him, and sank his fingers into the cat’s fur. “This is my favorite pussy.”

A hallway stretched to the back of the trailer to bedrooms and a bathroom. While Kane and Cruz smoked my weed, I kept my head down, but I was fucking marking every blonde in the room.

A girl came from the hall and paused. “Did you know he would be here?” she asked Kane. This must be the pissed sister.

“You’re looking good, Hayley.” Cruz blew a stream of smoke in her direction.

“Fuck off.” She glared at him. “You’re both assholes. I’m out of here.” She stormed across the room, banged the door open, and flipped them off as she left.

While they smoked the bowl, I sold a couple of baggies. A guy with his hair in a ponytail, wearing a leather jacket, stumbled out of the back room. His eyes were blown as he slumped into the ratty recliner next to the couch.

“This is Sam,” Kane said to me.

I nodded. “Blue.”

Sam smiled at Cruz. “I haven’t seen you around in a while. What’ve you been up to?”

Cruz knew everyone. The Mr. Rogers of the neighborhood. “Not much.”

Kane took another hit off the pipe. “Where’s your girl?” he asked Sam while holding his breath.

“Having a chocolate bar in the bedroom.”

Hair on the back of my neck prickled. Kiss had confessed to me that chocolate bars, a dangerous combination of heroin and Xanax, were her weakness. My gut clenched as I thought of her in the other room, potentially taking her last breath.

Kane wasn’t aware that I’d stopped smoking to pay attention to the discussions happening around me.

“She wanted to smoke a bowl earlier,” Kane said to Sam. “Blue has eighths. Take a hit off of this shit.” He passed the bowl.

Sam blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Fuck, that’s good. How much?”

My attention was on the hallway, willing a petite blonde to come striding into the room. I didn’t care if she was high. I fucking needed Kiss back in my orbit.

“Blue?”

I turned to Kane and cocked a brow.

“Do you have a bag for my friend?”

I reached into my pocket and tossed a baggie onto the table. Sam inspected the buds, opened the baggie, and sniffed the weed.

Cruz stared at the doorway. Two girls came into the trailer. One had curly red hair hanging to her juicy ass. A tight T-shirt had been altered with a pair of scissors to make room for her tits. The other had short, dark hair, and she clung to a guy with a shaved head and a face full of tatts. The guy’s gaze lingered for a moment on Cruz, then went to Sam. The redhead smiled and waved at Cruz. Maybe I’d been idolizing the wrong Heller.

“Anyone you know?” I asked with a smirk on my face.

Cruz’s only reply was a barely discernable nod.

“I’ll take another bag.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of balloons mixed in with his money. “Cash or trade?”

“Cash.” Fuck heroin. I owned my truths. One hit, and I’d be hooked. Maybe that’s why I understood Kiss and the appeal of just saying fuck it and letting addiction have me. I stuffed the money into my pocket.

Cruz casually stood, but his hand tapped against his thigh. “Time to go.”

Not yet. I needed in the back bedroom where a girl was fucked up on heroin and Xanax.

Before I could speak, Cruz draped an arm over my shoulder. “Through the bedroom.” We weaved through the short, crowded hall.

“Is there a problem?” Kane asked, following us into the bedroom.

“Not with you and me,” Cruz said to Kane. “But I don’t like your friends.”

Bile rose into my throat. Needles covered the top of the dresser. Blood splatter from junkies dotted the walls. Kiss and another girl sat on the bed with a couple of guys. She looked like shit. Dark bruises circled her eyes. How long had she been binging?

Her gaze connected with mine, and tears filled her eyes. She whispered, “Blue,” and shook her head. “Why are you here?”

I rushed to her side, and she curled into herself.

“Why the fuck are you here?” I asked. “Fuck, Kiss. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m sorry,” she almost didn’t speak the words, but her lips moved.

“You should be. Are you smoking or shooting?” Both were a death sentence for this girl. I flung her paraphernalia, a straw and foils, across the room. “You’re fucking better than this.”

“Stop,” she whimpered.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” one of the guys on the bed asked as he tightened a tourniquet on his arm.

Cruz crossed to the window, pried it open, and shoved out the screen. “I’m not fucking around,” he said to me. “We need to go, now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Kane raked his fingers through his hair.

“Do you know him?” Sam asked Kiss.

“She does, and she’s coming with me.” I grabbed her hand, pulled her to me, and lifted her into my arms.

“I need my backpack.”

“We need to go,” I said.

“Blue, it’s all I have.”

Cruz jumped out of the window. I carried her to the ledge, slipped her legs through, and handed her to Cruz. He grabbed onto her and carefully lowered her.

“Don’t jump,” one of the guys said and laughed.

“What the fuck is wrong with using the front door?” Sam asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Kane said. “But I’ve known Cruz long enough to trust his spider senses.”

I grabbed her pink backpack off the floor and jumped out the window. Kiss reached for me. Cruz handed her over and took the backpack. Her thin arms clung to my neck.

Kane and Sam followed us out, dropping into the weeds surrounding the trailer.

“Give her to me,” Sam said and reached for Kiss.

I ignored his request, and Cruz held a finger up to his lips.

Sticks and dead grass crunched beneath our feet as we approached the neighbor’s trailer. Late-night news blared through the screens. Staying out of the swath of light from the window, we rounded the rear of the trailer.

Cruz gripped my shoulder. Two unmarked police cars rolled slowly down the street, passed in front of us, and stopped. Another vehicle approached from the cross street, shutting down their headlights as they neared the trailers.

A large box vehicle rolled to a stop. S.W.A.T. was on the scene.

“We need some distance between us and them.” Cruz crouched and pointed to the next trailer down.

Branches snapped in the distance. Cruz flattened out on the ground. Sam and Kane dropped and did the same. I ducked next to a pickup truck tire and, holding Kiss close to my chest, leaned against the front panel of the vehicle.

In the past few weeks, she’d lost weight and lost her color. She was fragile in my arms, a butterfly with broken wings.

I stilled. She heard it, too. Her hands balled into fists and clutched my shirt.

“Shh.” I slowed my breathing but still drank in the scent of her. Not the vile stench of drugs, but the underneath softness of the insecure girl. Contrary to what Bullet thought, Kiss and I had never been anything more than friends. I’d never fucked her, never kissed her. I’d hardly touched her.

Not that I hadn’t wanted more. Not that I hadn’t fucked my fist to thoughts of having her under me. I had her in my arms now, but this girl was a fucked up beautiful disaster.

A small group of guys in S.W.A.T. gear skirted the rear of the property. Focused on their target, they moved with stealth toward Kane’s trailer.

Sweat trickled down my temples, and my heart slammed against my ribs to the point I couldn’t quell the adrenaline firing through my veins. My fluctuating breaths left me lightheaded and amped as fuck.

As soon as they cleared the adjacent trailer, I released an exhale. Cruz, Sam, and Kane crawled to my hiding spot. We huddled together.

“That was fucking close,” I said.

“Our bikes aren’t an option.” Cruz chewed his thumbnail. Cops waited up and down the street. S.W.A.T. was moving into position.

“We need to get farther away, blend in with the neighbors, and wait it out.” I raised up enough to peer over the top of the vehicle.

Kiss tapped my shoulder. “I can walk.”

She slid down my body but clung to my cut.

“Stay close to me.” My voice was just above a whisper.

“Why do you keep trying to save me?”

Because I wanted to be her savior, even if it meant becoming her tormentor. I’d find a way to get through to her. Everyone had given up on her. I wouldn’t.

“Later,” Cruz said.

“There’s a trailer for rent next to the vacant lot.” Kane pointed to the left.

As quietly as possible, we crept along the back of the trailers. More police cars approached.

We scurried past two more trailers. Officers holding K9 units gathered on the corner, pointing in the direction of Kane’s trailer.

Cruz held his hand up, signaling for us to hold back. He strode to the front of the trailer and tugged the For Rent sign from the ground. Then he waved us toward the rickety porch. I sat next to him on the top step and pulled Kiss onto my lap.

Kane and Sam sat on the bottom step.

“How did you know?” Kane asked Cruz.

“Because he’s a fucking narc.” Sam seethed with his accusation. “And his friend came for Kiss. What was the plan? To let the rest of us take the hit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kane snapped. “I’ve known Cruz too long.” But his gaze hardened on me. “I don’t know you. Are you dealing for the cops?”

“He’s with me,” Cruz said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Have you looked at his cut? Blue’s a Heller Raider.” Kiss leaned her head on my shoulder. She could scarcely keep her eyes open, and her words slurred. “He’d never work with the cops.”

I wiped drool from her mouth. “Stay with me, Kiss.”

“I just need to sleep for a minute.”

Boom! A concussion grenade blasted the neighborhood. Car alarms blared, and dogs barked. The cops shouted orders, and neighbors began to filter out of their trailers to watch the entertainment.

“Fuck, Kane, they brought in the big guns for you.” Sam pulled out his cigarettes.

“Not for me,” Kane said. “Maybe for me, but I’m not dealing. Do they usually bring in S.W.A.T. for a party?”

“Nah.” Cruz spoke with the cigarette bouncing between his lips. “This is a no-knock warrant.” He nodded toward Sam. “Watch your back. I think the warrant is for you.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Sam leaned against the wooden slats of the porch.

Cruz leaned forward and spoke to Sam. “Because you’re pushing black, and the skinhead with the face full of ink sold scripts to an undercover a couple weeks ago. As soon as he saw you, he pulled out his phone, sent a text that couldn’t have been more than one word.”

Sam’s forehead pinched, and his gaze narrowed on Cruz. “Who the fuck are you, Sherlock Home?”

The cop cars were now flashing their lights and warning residents closest to Kane’s trailer to stay in their homes.

“It’s Sherlock Holmes, and no, I’m observant.”

Kane snorted. “He’s a fucking savant with spider senses.”

Sam stared down the street at the commotion of the bust. “If they’re looking for me, I need to get off the street.” He crushed his cigarette beneath his boot, climbed the few porch steps, and checked the door of the trailer. “I’ll find a way in.” He jumped off the backside of the porch, checking windows as he moved to the rear of the trailer.

Neighbors loitered in their driveways, on the street, and kicked back on their porches to watch the raid happening at Kane’s trailer.

Two minutes later, the door popped open. We filtered into the trailer and bolted the door.

Cruz and Kane opened the curtains in the living room and the blinds in the kitchen.

“Stay out of sight in the bedrooms,” Cruz said. “Cops will do a window search before forcing their way in. Don’t give them anything to see.”

Sam sagged against the wall and glanced to Cruz. “I owe you.”

“I wasn’t trying to save your ass,” he said with a serious note. “But understand, I have a favor from you on tap when I need it.”

He nodded.

I led Kiss to the rear of the trailer and into one of the back bedrooms. There wasn’t any furniture, but the place seemed clean. It didn’t stink, and the carpets had vacuum cleaner tracks. She dropped to the floor, lay on her side, and pillowed her hands beneath her cheek.

I sat underneath the window, leaned against the wall, bent my knees, and draped my hands over them. She rolled and faced me.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?” I asked.

Red and blue lights cut through the blinds and illuminated the room. Blonde hair that reminded me of pale sunsets tumbled around her face, but her blue eyes clouded with a drug induced inkiness.

“I didn’t get the messages.” She shifted her gaze away from me.

“Don’t bullshit me, Kiss. I’ve been texting you for six weeks. I’ve been hitting up parties and trap houses with Cruz since I’ve been able to sit on my bike. I was out of my fucking head worried about you. You didn’t say shit to anyone. You just left. Fuck. Kiss, at Indulgence—” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know if they hurt you.”

She kept her eyes lowered. A couple moments of silence followed. She wasn’t going to explain, maybe ask how the fuck I coped with my injuries. She was able to walk away from that night.

“At least, fucking look at me.”

“Fine.” Her gaze snapped back at me.

“Don’t fucking try to guilt me on this.” I’d been her 911 for weeks before shit went down at Indulgence. I’d bought her food, hotels, and paid her fucking cell phone bill for the last few months, so she wouldn’t have to go to her source and pay with pussy.

“I’m not.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “I wanted to call.”

“You should’ve been at the MC, then you wouldn’t have had to worry about calling. But you gave zero fucks about me.”

“Now, who is dealing in guilt?”

I sighed and plucked a stray string from the threadbare patch at the knee of my jeans. “I guess I am. I was down for three weeks, Kiss.” Apathy was worse than rejection. I’d nearly lost everything trying to protect her. I betrayed my friendship with Bullet. I’d lied to my mentor, to a man who’d shown me nothing but respect—for her. “You could’ve told me to my face to fuck off.”

“It wasn’t about you.”

I growled, and my teeth clenched. It was never about me. Only it was always about me. “That’s the problem, Kiss. It should’ve been about me.”

“I couldn’t stay at the MC. I didn’t mean to stay away from you.” Her voice quieted. “I couldn’t call or text.” She released a shaky exhale. “I sold my phone.”

“For black?”

She nodded.

I dropped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. “Make me understand, Kiss. Because I’m trying to figure out why I give a fuck when you don’t. I’m talking about everything. You don’t give a fuck about me. You clearly don’t care about yourself or about staying clean.”

“I’m not worth caring about. I told you I’d eventually fuck you over, but you wouldn’t believe me. Don’t make this my fault. What do you want from me?”

Before I could reply, Cruz stood in the hallway, read the room, and spoke to the other guys.

“In here.” Cruz indicated the room across the hall. “They need a bit of privacy.”

“I don’t know who the fuck he is to her,” Sam said. “But I’ve been feeding her habit. We deal in trade, and she owes me.”

Tears slipped onto Kiss’s cheeks, and her eyes slowly closed. This was how she fucked me up.

I jumped to my feet and crossed the room. “You stick another fucking needle in her and the next hit you put in your veins will be drain cleaner.”

Cruz stepped between us. “Step back, Sam. Make sure you want this kind of trouble. She’s a fucking Heller, and that makes her ours.”

“Calm the fuck out,” Kane said. “We’ve got bigger problems. The whole fucking police department is in my crib.” He glared at Sam. “I’m not blaming you, but this might all be your fault. You need to sit the fuck down.”

Sam stared past me to Kiss. Then he glared at Cruz. “Consider the favor repaid.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Cruz said. “I’ll decide when we’re square.” He turned to me. “You good?”

I nodded. “I swear, if he comes near her again, it’s on sight.” No warning. No words. I’d fucking take him out.

“I got your back, bruh.” Cruz stepped into the room across the hall. I returned to Kiss and sat in the same position as before. This time, she crawled across the carpet, sat next to me, and leaned against the wall. We were both silent as dogs barked outside the trailer. Blue lights continued to cut through the darkness.

“I don’t know what to do for you,” I said to her. “You need help. What I’m doing isn’t working.”

“I don’t want to go to rehab again.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “You don’t know how hard it is to stay clean.”

“Yes, I do.” I lived it every fucking day. Memories were my demons. Had I thought of sticking a needle in my arm to turn my pain into pleasure? I did, as many times as I thought about swallowing my gun to blow the fucking images I couldn’t forget out of my head.

Like the moon, I had a dark side. A monster lurked inside me. Drugs promised an escape, but I had a greater fear of what could be unleashed. Suffering was penance for a fucked up life.

“We all have demons, Kiss. Every time you shoot up, you’re letting your fears control you.”

Tears slipped onto her cheeks. “In treatment, the first step is admitting we’re powerless over our addictions. Nailed it.”

“Fuck twelve steps. You have to make a choice. Decide if you want to live or die.”

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The best things happen… After Dark

Enter a realm of passion and danger, where desire thrives in the shadows. In After Dark, meet heroes who play by their own rules, from mafia enforcers and rebellious bad boys to motorcycle club kings, dominant lovers, ruthless hitmen, and cunning assassins.

Succumb to the magnetic pull of anti-heroes who walk the fine line between darkness and desire.

Witness their fiery chemistry as they navigate a world where love is as dangerous as it is intoxicating.

Explore the depths of pleasure, pain, and power as love blossoms in the most forbidden corners of the heart.

From the seedy streets of the underworld to the heights of ecstasy, these stories will leave you spellbound and craving more. Get lost in this intoxicating escape into a world where danger and passion collide.

Are you ready to be seduced by those who defy convention and embrace the darkness within? Order your copy now and let the allure of these anti-heroes consume you.

Including stories from:
Stephanie Morris – USA Today bestselling author
Courtney Dean-USA Today Bestselling Author
Bella Emy – USA Today Bestselling Author
Charmaine Louise Shelton
VK Holt
Euryia Larsen
Rachel Radner
Darah Lace
KyAnn Waters
Tara Lee
Tristina Brockway
Ali Rivers
Dilana Rose
Courtney W. Dixon

Sneak Peek Excerpt

Pretty Deadly

He’d keep me or he’d kill me. Either way, he wasn’t going to let me go.

Eric Spade

Lust and a beautiful woman can make a man weak. Pretty deadly. She makes me question my purpose. She’s in bed with my enemy. To take down a king, sometimes you have to sacrifice his queen.

Nalini Bryan

Fear is my constant companion. I’ve been held hostage by the Kyng of the cartel until a stranger takes me, stealing me from my nightmare. I thought he had come to rescue me. I was wrong.

Excerpt

I wasn’t just a killer. Some men wielded power like a weapon. They sharpened their knives of intimidation, yet hid behind the false security of walls, guards, and guns.

Real power came from patience. Like a spider spinning an intricate web, I only needed to wait for my prey to vibrate one of the gossamer filaments. To make one misstep. Once I had him, I intended to make him suffer the same fate as his victims, to watch life slowly fade from his black, soulless eyes.

The cartel Kyng peddled his poison on the streets while wearing Brioni like Bond. The man reeked of hypocrisy while reigning over his empire. His day of reckoning had come.

I’d become an artist, torture my medium. Kyng would be my masterpiece. He’d die a slow, agonizing death. I’d perfected my craft and refined my pharmaceuticals. In small doses, scopolamine could make my targets groggy, but I wanted their bodies stiff with the incapacitating effects, and I wanted their minds paralyzed with fear.

The first kill had gone unnoticed by law enforcement. Another drug dealer dead in the street, caught in the crossfire of a dangerous profession. Another followed. Both were members of Kyng’s cartel.

A smug smile curled my lips. Not even Kyng realized he had an enemy at the door. Then I killed Laf, the one considered his top general. As long as the medical examiner continued to rule the deaths as drug overdoses, I’d continue to send them to hell.

Sitting in the corner of Inferno, Kyng’s posh playpen of iniquity, I flicked open the lid of my lighter and rolled the wheel, striking the flint. Flames licked the wick. I breathed in the scent, snapped the lid closed, and then flipped it open again.

People crowded onto the dance floor of the posh downtown nightclub. Chrome, glass, and exclusivity. Music droned out the chatter of voices. Women wore leather. Sweat slicked their skin as they pulsed and gyrated on the dance floor. I didn’t come to dance. I was here for a specific purpose.

In the corner, roped off in a private area, Kyng surrounded himself with guards. Massive men scanned the crowd, protecting their boss. I lifted my cola to my lips, letting my gaze linger over the rim. The man smiled and laughed, arrogant in his position.

No one was untouchable. Every man had a weakness. Madden Kyng’s stood to his left. Nalini Bryan. My prey was stunningly beautiful but deceptively deadly.

Heat slipped under my skin with the hunt. A cascade of dark hair draped over her bare shoulder. Long lashes framed sultry brown eyes rimmed with black. Red slicked across her luscious lips. Leather pants rode low on her hips. The flawless flesh of her full tits played peek-a-boo through a red, lace-up corset. A diamond jewel winked from her bellybutton of her exposed midriff.

She was petite. I could span her waist with my hands or crush her throat with one fist. Movements were fluid as she swiveled her hips to the music. The song changed to something popular with a faster beat. The crowd cheered. One of the other girls tugged her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor.

Kyng grabbed her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and yanked her onto his lap. His palm covered the tit cresting out of her corset, and his mouth slammed onto hers. He kissed her, groped her, then shoved her off his lap and smacked her ass.

Nalini stumbled to catch her balance as she wiped smudged lipstick from her face. Kyng bent over the table and snorted another line up his nose.

As Nalini and the blonde moved onto the dance floor, Kyng nodded at one of his men to follow them. In the crowd, I was just another guy dancing, looking to get laid.

I had the ability to blend in when I needed camouflaged but also to intimidate when the situation required it. To quote the movies, I had a particular set of skills that made me dangerous to men like Kyng. I could find anyone. Some might call me a killer. They’d be right. I killed. But I didn’t see it as murder.

I balanced the scales of justice.

True justice was an eye for an eye. Kyng was a drug dealer. His victims died with his poison in their veins. He didn’t know it yet, but he would. I was his endgame, and he’d meet the same fate.

Planning my next moves, I waited for an opportunity for checkmate. To kill the king, I’d take his queen. The one thing he couldn’t live without.

I slipped my lighter into my pocket. Staying near the edges of the dance floor, I worked my way closer to the women. Bodies with sweat-slicked skin bumped into me. The pungent odor of sweat blended with the cloying scent of perfumes. Lights flashed, and the bass of the music matched the steady rhythm of my pulse.

I wasn’t immune to the spike of adrenaline or the coil of tension knotting in my gut. I’d hunted, cloaked in the shadows. The fucker understood the game too well. Moves and countermoves.

It wasn’t enough to kill him. I wanted him to suffer.

For weeks, while watching Kyng, I’d watched her. She’d become an obsession as much as Madden. I wanted them both.

Advanced Excerpt – Order on Amazon!

ADULT CONTENT – 18+ Only

Romeo

Was he going to eye fuck her all night?

I loathed the way he put his hand on her hip, nuzzled her neck, and licked his fucking lip after he had his mouth on hers. He towered over her and tucked her close to his side.

I really hated how she gazed up at him with those sultry summer eyes, golden amber and bronzed like the sunset over the ocean. He was a god of the gridiron. He should focus those hands on catching footballs.

Feelings weren’t my thing but fuck all if I didn’t hate the idea of her having a boyfriend. Greyson Cooper, running back for the Eminence University Rooks didn’t belong in the MC, and he sure as fuck didn’t belong with Levi.

“It’s good to hear her laugh.”

I snapped my gaze to Dozer, one of my best friends. He’d mistakenly thought my attention was on Pippa as she danced with Levi and Hana. Pippa had been our girl, but then bad shit happened. The kind of shit nightmares were made of.

I’ve been in some fucked up situations. That was life in the motorcycle club. I didn’t catch feelings, but I loved Pippa. Not a romantic love, but she was important to me because she was important to Dozer. I loved my brothers in the MC. Dozer more than the others…because of her.

Some would think I’d lost part of my soul for Pippa. But I hadn’t killed for her. I’d killed for Dozer. He was the fighter, but that night, the one that changed her, and changed me—that night Pippa had come before his need for vengeance.

Pippa didn’t tell me what had happened in those terrifying fourteen hours of hell. She didn’t have to. We’d found her, but not in time to save her. Not that she wasn’t fucked up from the savagery of a man who’d taken what was ours. He’d broken her, but she’d survived. He didn’t.

I’d never get the memory out of my head. Not of Pippa lying on a dirty mattress, wishing she were dead…and not of the beaten, bloody bastard who’d raped her.

Heller justice.

I’d broken bones. I wasn’t a fighter because I preferred to use my hands to get a girl off. But I’d never tasted the dark, satisfying flavor of blood and violence the way I did that night. He was dead because I’d killed him. He shouldn’t have fucked with the Hellers, shouldn’t have touched what was ours.

My hand curled into a fist on my thigh. Maybe I was territorial, but Levi was ours. I narrowed my gaze on her. Blood rushed through me hot and volatile. Her gaze met mine, and the laugh fell from her lips. She took a step away from Rook.

Good.

I’d never really had a girlfriend. The closest thing I’d come to caring was with Pippa and Dozer. We’d been good together, the three of us. But there was never going to be anything more than friendship between me and Pip. I wasn’t part of their love story—then the nightmare happened.

I couldn’t shut off my need to protect her, but I didn’t want back in her bed either. All I felt was relief. What the fuck did that say about me? I didn’t care about the girls I slept with, and I didn’t sleep with girls I cared about.

Maybe it explained my sudden possessiveness toward Levi. All I knew was my jealousy over her boyfriend simmered like acid in my gut.

I drank from a bottle of vodka like it was water although it wasn’t doing shit to improve my pissed-off mood.

“If he puts his hand on her ass again, I’m going to break it.”

Dozer paused with his beer at his lips. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The juicer. Rook. Coop. Whatever the fuck you want to call him. I don’t like his hands on Levi.”

Dozer stilled as he stared at me. I knew what he was thinking. I couldn’t get jealous over a girl that I’d put in the friendzone. That didn’t mean I wanted her scoring with some juiced-up jock.

“Don’t be a dick, Romeo. You go near her, and you’ll fuck her up. Then I’ll have to beat your ass. Coop is headed to the NFL, he’s rich as fuck, and isn’t a biker. He’s fucking perfect for her.”

“He’s not one of us.”

Dozer drank his beer. “The only one of us she ever wanted was you. The only reason you’re interested now is because she’s found someone else.” He set his beer on the table. “Don’t fuck this up for her, Romeo. You’ll get bored in a couple weeks. I love you, brother. But you won’t be good for her, and Levi deserves better.”

That was the fucking truth. I was shit.

Besides Shannon, my foster mom, I had important women in my life. Levi, Jazzy, Hana, and Pippa. I suppose it was time to add Gabi to my list. They were off limits. Hana and Pippa were with Blade and Dozer. And Gabi was with Torch.

Levi was everything sweet and good. I’d wreck her, and I’d never been interested in virgins.

Outside of the special girls in my life, my pursuit of pussy was legendary. Always looking to get a girl off and get myself off. Females were beautiful. If I had a pussy, I’d spend all day playing with it. Sweet, wet, soft. I fucking loved sex.

Until the night Pippa was nearly taken from Dozer. Everything was changing. Including me.

Three years ago, Vance left the MC. Tonight, he’d patched back in, put on his cut, and took his place at our table. His return had a lot to do with his sister, Hana. The girl was a Heller before she ever wore the cut claiming her as the property of our president, Blade.

I turned to the girl next to me. Blonde, feisty, and overly opinionated, basically Jazzy was beautiful, but a bitch. I swear she had balls bigger than most of the patches in the MC. Her dad was the enforcer of the club. Apparently, that hardass-ready-to-fight attitude needed for the sergeant at arms patch was in the DNA.

Jazzy never backed down from a fight, especially one that could get a little bloody. Thank fuck she was more like a sister. A sledgehammer wouldn’t nail her down. If she had her way, we’d be skirting the lines of family. Not because she wanted me. Jazzy’s snatch had teeth like a Venus flytrap. I wasn’t getting close to her. Most days, I was just the biker with the good weed.

About now I needed a joint. I pushed away from the table.

Not only did I need to get high, but I couldn’t sit around and watch Rook take my crush. Fuck me.

I smiled, laughed, and pretended everything was fucking great. But my fuck-all life was shit. Had always been shit.

The story wasn’t a fucking fairytale. Maybe, like my name, it was more of a Shakespearean play. Life and death, love and hate, freewill or just destined to die a tragic death.

They called me Romeo. I was the pretty boy, the guy girls wanted to fuck at two in the morning. Too bad they didn’t believe me when I was honest. I wasn’t looking for anything more than getting my dick wet. As soon as they caught feels I was out. Emotional attachments were toxic.

But I had good friends, friends that I knew I could trust when there wasn’t much I could depend on growing up. I was a poor foster care kid who happened to luck into a house of Hellers. Shannon, my last foster mom, had a younger brother. She called him Rogue.

He was big, tough, and mean as hell. He was everything I wasn’t. And I had him to thank for everything good in my life. He took a scrawny kid, me, without shit to my name, hated people, hated to be touched, and brought me to the MC to make some friends. That’s when the crew made me one of them. We were tight then, tighter now.

This was where I belonged, a rented room in the back of the MC. I kicked the door closed and crashed onto my bed. With the flick of my wrist, I opened my Zippo, sparked the flint, and drew the flame to the tip of the joint.

The paper and weed burned, the sweet, pungent smell hitting me a moment before the mellowing burn as I inhaled. A curl of smoke escaped my nostrils.

A knock sounded on the door. Before I could tell whoever it was to fuck off, the door opened, and Jazzy let herself in.

“Thank god,” she said, bouncing onto my bed, snatching the joint from my fingers, and taking a few puffs.

“This is a private party,” I said.

“Good. I need a little quiet.” She passed the joint back to me.

“Hanging out in my room with the door closed is going to give the wrong impression.” If I had a girl in my room, it wasn’t usually to pass around a joint.

She snorted, flopped onto her back, and blew a stream of smoke from her pouty lips. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Nothing is wrong with me,” I said.

She rolled onto her side. “Romeo, you can talk about her.”

I covered the flare of heat rushing through me with a smile. If she was talking about what happened with Pippa, nah, that shit would stay inside me. Pippa was where she belonged, with Dozer.

And no way could she know about the fucked up thoughts in my head about Levi. I couldn’t want her and would never touch her because I’d hurt her. I wasn’t ignorant of her feelings for me. I just wasn’t prepared for her to have feelings for anyone else.

Shifting the focus away from me, I asked her about Vance. They had history. “He’s engaged,” I said.

“Nice try, but Vance and I were over long before he left the MC. It’s strange to call him Torch now, but I guess it makes sense. He’s changed.” She turned her head. “Everything is changing. Blade has Hana. I’ve never seen a more pussy-whipped boy than Dozer. Levi has Coop.”

I sat up. That was the shit I didn’t want to hear. “Has she fucked him?”

I could bite off my tongue. The words tasted like shit in my mouth. Levi was saving herself, wanted to lose her V-card like a fucking Hallmark movie. Not with some football player on a break from jersey chasers.

“I hope so.” She rolled onto her stomach. “You should be happy. She’s finally given up on converting you.”

I growled and took a swig of vodka. Then another.

Jazzy rolled off the bed. “I don’t know if it’s what happened to Pippa, or if you’re pissed at Dozer, but whatever it is, it’s fucking you up.”

She wasn’t one to offer hugs. That was Levi.

Jazzy paused at the door. “Get your shit together, Romeo.”

Yeah, that was more of what I expected.

The problem, this was me having my shit together.

 

Levi

 

I must have a sick and twisted need for punishment. Mental torment. I was a smart girl, went to Eminence University, and was dating the varsity running back for the EU football team, Greyson Cooper. Everyone called him Coop.

Yet here I was in the Heller Raiders MC still hopelessly in love with the bad boy that had me since puberty. I think it was Pippa that had said it best about bikers. Ink, muscles, hard dicks, and Harleys.

I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a tattoo. I did have my ears pierced, as in one hole in the lobe with tiny diamond studs that my grandmother, Willow, had given me on my sixteenth birthday.

I don’t recall ever having a birthday with my mom and dad. Both were incarcerated. My dad would never walk out of the state pen. That’s what murder got a man. My mother would be getting manicures with her celly for at least another five years. She’d already served nearly twenty. Even if she did get out, I didn’t plan to ever see her again. I wasn’t anything like them.

Thank god I had my grandma and grandpa. I called them mom and dad. In the MC, he was known as Bear. Original Heller and while sweet to me, I’m pretty sure he could crush a skull in his bare hands. My mom was his ride or die old lady.

I wasn’t anything like my parents/grandparents either. Riding on the back of a Harley was fine, but wearing a cut declaring me someone’s property wasn’t going to happen.

I’d be twenty-two in a few months, and sadly, I was still a virgin because I’d foolishly been saving myself for Romeo as he fucked his way through the entire female population.

But I had a boyfriend now. My thoughts shouldn’t have been on Romeo. Tell that to my heart that refused to get the message. Romeo wasn’t interested. So, I’d taken a bit of his advice. The best way to get over one girl was to get on another. Only for me, I was trying to get over a pretty boy biker with a rugged, fit-as-fuck footballer.

As I danced, Coop slid in close behind me and curled his muscular arms around my waist.

“You’re killing me,” he said against my neck. His hands roamed over my hips, teasing with the edge of my short, pleated skirt.

I spun in his embrace, ran my hands up his chiseled chest, and then looped my arms around his thick neck. Everything about him was thick and hard, including the cock pressed to my belly. A cock I’d yet to get up close and personal with. “I’d hate to be the cause of your death.”

He smiled, causing a dimple in his right cheek. Butterflies fluttered in my tummy as his breath caressed my lips, and his fingers brushed against the bare skin of my midriff. Coop was huge, with long fingers that could span my waist.

“Every time I kiss you, I worry I’m going to get my ass kicked.”

“I’ve seen the guys you face off against on the field. You can handle a couple of Hellers.”

He chuckled. “Good thing Dozer likes me. I know he carries a gun.”

“We all do. Don’t worry about Dozer. He doesn’t need the gun.”

He lifted a brow. “We?”

“Yes, but I’m a better shot than Romeo. I’ll defend you.”

“You know your friends are scary as hell.”

“I do, but you can kiss me anyway.”

I wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but I did like the way his full lips slanted over mine. I’m sure the butterflies in my belly were from his soft kiss as he parted my lips, not from my insecurity because Romeo sat across the room.

I curled my fingers into the silky hair at the nape of Coop’s neck. Warmth tingled in my breasts as his tongue licked into my mouth.

With a heavy sigh, I inhaled the expensive scent of cologne lingering on his flesh. I fell for the eyes first. I wanted my soul pierced. I wanted someone to look at me like they would fight just for a taste of me. After the eyes, it was the smell. Even in the dark, I wanted to steep in the masculine scent of a lover.

I think. I couldn’t be exactly sure because I’d never experienced either.

“Are you daydreaming?” he asked with that dark as sin voice, deep and naughty, and paired with a smile to convert a nun to depravity.

Coop’s broad chest pressed against me, and he pulled me closer. He might be a running back, but he was built more like a bodybuilder. His thick thighs aligned with mine as he rocked the hard edge of his cock against my pelvis.

Breath rushed from my lungs. I’d been in this position before, feeling the effect I had on him, but still not sure what to do about it because I’d seen him have the same reaction for a red Solo cup full of rum and a large pizza.