The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Ball busters with a whole lot of heart.

  The tattered flag they gave him was the same flag he brought back from Afghanistan, the same flag that survived the bomb at the clubhouse. That flag symbolizes not only freedom but survival, and it proudly hangs in our living room.

  “Jesus,” he hisses as we make our way to the Twin Tower footprints, the tranquil sound of the waterfalls washing over us. Staring at the names of the men and women who died on that September day, watching as Stryker runs his fingers over some of them, I realize how grateful I am for the sacrifice not only he’s made but the sacrifice of all the young men and women who enlist in the military. I’m ashamed to admit I never gave much thought to veterans before I met Stryker.

  He glances back at me.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to see this with my own eyes.”

  “I got us tickets to the museum too, but if it’s too much—” My words trail off as he lifts his finger to my lips and silences me.

  “Sometimes I forget,” he admits. “I pretend the only reason I enlisted was to become a man because my father was useless in that department. I forget how I felt when I saw those towers collapse, how the anger ate away at me like a cancer. I forget that while thousands of people volunteered with the recovery here, I stood in front of a recruiting office.”

  I watch him turn around, his eyes scanning the names before diverting back toward the tallest building our city has ever known.

  “You see that building, pretty girl?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, letting my eyes travel to the top and to the spire that pokes the beautiful blue sky.

  “That’s proof that terror can’t win,” he says softly, lifting his hands to my face. “And so are you.”

  My gaze drops from the spire and meets his soulful, brown eyes.

  “Those eyes,” he rasps. “I didn’t want to stick. I didn’t want to find a home, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t, not at all, not one bit. But then I found these eyes,” he says as his thumbs stroke the skin beneath my eyes. “Felt that lightning, and fuck me, my plan went to shit.”

  A chuckle escapes my lips as my eyes fill with tears. They’re not the tears of heartache, remorse and fear I’ve cried over the last six months. They’re tears of promise, of happiness and of beauty.

  “I’m still waiting on you, pretty girl,” he murmurs as he leans into me. His breath touches my lips and I close my eyes briefly waiting for the kiss that never comes.

  “Maybe you don’t have to wait much longer,” I say, opening my eyes as I wrap my arms around his neck. “I think I’m ready.”

  I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows and narrows his eyes, searching mine to be sure I’ve actually said the words I know he’s patiently been waiting to hear.

  “Ready for what?”

  “Everything,” I whisper.

  I want him to touch me again.

  I want to feel him on top of me.

  I want to look into his eyes and feel him inside me.

  I want to reclaim my body.

  I want to give him the pieces they took from me.

  I want his dirty promises.

  And then I’ll give him what he’s really been waiting on.

  I’ll give him the notebook.

  Stryker

  Staring down at the paper in my hands I read the test results over and over before lifting my gaze back to hers. She shuffles her weight from foot to foot as she gnaws on her lower lip and her pretty green eyes bore into mine. So many questions are on the tip of my tongue but I don’t find my voice and so I ask them with my eyes and hope she answers.

  “I’m clean,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

  “Yeah, I see that,” I reply hoarsely, holding the paper in the air between us.

  “It’s the last part of the nightmare,” she says. “It’s the validation I needed to know I can move forward. Those results are my freedom tower,” she rasps, before finding the will to smile. “I’m free.”

  She’ll never be free.

  Not fully.

  But I get what she’s saying. She’ll always be the girl who survived a traumatic experience but she won’t always be the victim. She will rebuild, and now with a clear head she can do that.

  She takes the paper from my hands and tears it in half, letting the pieces fall to the floor before she steps closer and wraps her arms around my neck.

  “I want you, Stryker,” she whispers.

  These are the words I’ve been waiting to hear, the words I wasn’t so sure would ever escape her lips. Words I was okay not hearing ever again as long as I had her, but fuck if those words aren’t music to my fucking ears.

  Keeping myself in check, I drop my hands to her hips and touch my forehead to hers.

  “I want you to be sure,” I tell her.

  “I am,” she says with conviction. “I want all your dirty promises, soldier…every last one.” She pauses and cocks her head to the side as her eyes flicker with uncertainty. “I mean if that’s what you want, if you still—”

  “Shut up, Gina,” I cut her off, squeezing her hips in my hands. “There isn’t a fucking thing I want more in this world than to be buried between your legs, watching your pretty face as you come all over my cock. I want to taste that sweet cunt of yours too. I want that a whole lot, maybe more than I want to ride you up against the wall. Yeah, I want you dripping on my tongue as you grind against my face. I want you screaming my name, begging for more, and when you’re finally full and think you can’t possibly come anymore…I want to be the one who proves you wrong. I want that every night of my life, every fucking night until I’m dead and buried.”

  “Dirty promises,” she breathes.

  “No, that’s a fact,” I correct.

  “A lot more than five,” she comments.

  Moving my hands around her waist I flick the button open on her jeans with one hand as I keep my eyes glued to hers.

  “Give me the green light, pretty girl, and I’ll give you a glimpse of what forever looks like, but be sure because I’ll never take what you’re not willing to give.”

  “I want to give you everything,” she says.

  “Green light,” I repeat.

  Laying her hand over mine she slowly slides my hand inside her pants until my fingers touch the lace that covers the part of her we’re both dying to reclaim. Her hand leaves mine and moves to the waistband of her jeans and she works them down her hips. My fingers start to move and a whimper escapes her lips causing my hand to immediately still.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” she groans.

  “You’re sure?”

  She grabs my shoulders and pushes down on me until I’m on my knees in front of her and my hands are assisting hers at tugging the denim down her legs.

  “I’m sure,” she says as she kicks off the jeans and hooks her thumbs around her thong. “Give me your mouth,” she demands, her eyes sparkling with determination.

  I don’t give her a chance to pull her panties off as my mouth comes crashing over her lace covered pussy. My teeth nip at the lace and my tongue slides over her, tasting what I’ve missed. Her hands find their way to my head and she presses against it, shoving my face and tongue deeper inside of her. I pull the thong down to her thighs and shove her legs further apart as I bury my head between her legs and eat her like I’m being sent to the chair, and she’s the meal I’ve requested before my execution.

  I glance up at her and watch her lose herself, chasing the high of getting off on my tongue as she grinds her cunt against me to her own rhythm. Keeping my eyes on her face, I slowly slide two fingers into her sleek heat, and when I know for certain she’s still with me, I fuck the shit out of her with my fingers and press my tongue to her clit.

  Come for me, pretty girl.

  Give it all back to me.

  Let me give it all back to you.

  She clenches around me, holding my fingers tightly inside her as my tongue continues to
ravage her nerves and then she comes.

  She gives me her freedom and trusts me to protect it.

  Now, that’s the fucking beautiful I’ve been waiting for.

  She stills, leans over me as her fingers dig into my shoulders and I slowly lean back to asses her features.

  “I’ve got you,” I rasp, withdrawing my fingers from her before taking hold of her thighs and steadying her on her wobbly feet. Her green eyes, filled with lust and satisfaction, meet mine and the grin spreads across her face.

  “Yeah, you do,” she says breathlessly.

  My grin matches the one on her face as she wraps herself around me, pushes me down onto my back and straddles me.

  “What do you want, pretty girl?” I ask as I reach up and thread my fingers through her hair.

  “Everything,” she replies, unbuttoning my cargos. “But this…this I need.”

  “Then take what you need,” I tell her, before bringing her mouth down to mine.

  That kiss is the last thing I take from her before I hand over the control and let her set the pace as she takes a seat on my cock, slowly taking in every inch. I forgot how fucking good it felt to be inside her, but what I longed for most was to watch her. However, I didn’t bank on how fucking beautiful she’d be this time, how fucking liberating it would be to watch her ride my cock and reconnect with her own body.

  Fucking beautiful.

  We go at it like a bunch of horny teenagers, making up for the last six months as we wash away the terror and find all the beauty. By the time the sun rises I’m fucking dead and not even the threat of nightmares can keep me from holding her close as I fall asleep.

  “Stryker,” she whispers against my ear.

  “Hmm,” I mutter, keeping my eyes closed. How the fuck is she not tired?

  Then my lips quirk as she pinches my nipple.

  I’ve got my girl back.

  “You can’t go to bed,” she says.

  “Babe, you just rode my cock like a bucking bronco, go to sleep. I promise I’ll let you at it again in a couple of hours.”

  “No,” she insists, leaning over my limp body, pressing those fucking delicious tits of hers in my face.

  She’s going to kill me.

  Fact number twelve thousand sixty-eight.

  I open one eye as she reaches for something on the nightstand and then slaps it against my chest.

  “There’s something else I have to give you,” she starts, pulling my arms until I’m forced to sit up. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Stryker or I won’t wake you up with a blowjob,” she warns.

  I cock an eyebrow as she shoves the marble notebook into my hands.

  “What’s this?” I say, fighting off sleep as I picture her on her knees with her mouth full.

  God, I’m a lucky man.

  “Open it,” she orders, tapping her nails against the cover. “Wait,” she says as I move to open the book and leans down to press her lips to mine. “Okay, green light. Go!”

  I laugh, opening the book and glance down at the lined pages. Narrowing my eyes, I flip through the pages and see they are all filled, the same thing written repeatedly on every line.

  Gina Kincaid.

  “I’ve practiced writing it a thousand times.”

  Beautiful.

  Right there in a name.

  A name written a thousand times.

  A name that’s filled every page of a notebook.

  Hers.

  Mine.

  Us.

  Beautiful.

  -Bonus Epilogue-

  Ally

  Most people live their lives wondering about the afterlife. They ask themselves if it exists, if there really is a Heaven, and some question how the people who claim to love them—how those people will mourn the loss of them once they’re gone.

  I never had to wonder, I died at fourteen years old and I can answer all those questions for you.

  There most definitely is no Heaven and I can tell you for a fact that Satan exists.

  So does hell.

  As for the people who claimed to love me?

  Well, I’d like to think they cared, maybe shed some tears when they realized I was never coming back to them. I like to think they fought, that they never gave up hope on me, but I’m twenty-six years old and I’m still living in hell.

  They gave up on finding me.

  They mourned me.

  They probably even had a service for me.

  Now, I’m just a distant memory, a piece of them they lost.

  I’ve been sexually abused, sold, traded and now I’m property of a motorcycle club. I am a self-proclaimed whore, who has no respect for her body. I’ll spread my legs and suck dick on command as long as someone fills my veins with the shit that makes me forget I once had the perfect life.

  I came from a good home, with two parents who loved me and my twin brother more than anything in this whole world.

  I had friends.

  A best friend who would have ended up right where I am today if I hadn’t of switched places with her. If I hadn’t of been the innocent fourteen-year-old girl who naively devised a plan to turn her best friend into her sister by setting her up with my brother.

  I often wonder if that ever worked.

  If my death brought them together. They were just kids, but who knows. It could happen.

  Don’t tell me I’m being foolish.

  I need to believe there is still something beautiful outside the walls of this clubhouse.

  I need to believe love exists.

  I thought I was in love once.

  Three years ago after Rush’s old lady caught me and him together she threatened to castrate him and blow all his secrets wide open. Rush handed me over to the club, let them all have a go at me, but only one actually saw me for more than a quick fuck.

  Stryker.

  When you’ve lived the life I have you give up on the knight in shining armor and take whatever the fuck you can get. Stryker used me to fuck like every other Satan’s Knight, but he never fed my habit and to me that was big. It was huge. To me that meant he cared about me. I wasn’t just a hole for him to fuck but a woman he saw life in.

  He didn’t care.

  He just pitied me.

  Tying the band around my bony and bruised arm, I flick my skin trying to find a vein.

  I don’t want anyone’s pity.

  I don’t want anything but my drugs.

  I want to forget this life and remember who I was before I was shoved into the back of a van.

  Finding a viable vein, I shove the needle into my arm and press down with my thumb, emptying the contents of the syringe into my bloodstream.

  I close my eyes, waiting for the heroin to kick in and to be transcended back in time—to the pretty blonde girl with blue eyes that match her brothers.

  I pucker my dry lips and kiss Ally goodbye and welcome the memory of Alexandria.

  © Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

  Wanderer Book Two A Nomad Series Novel

  By Janine Infante Bosco

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN-13: 9781370200245

  Published by Janine Infante Bosco

  Copy Edited/formatted by: Jennifer Bosco

  Proofread and edited by Trish Bacher of Editor in Heels

  Cover Design: JB’s Cover Obsession Design

  Front Cover Image by: Photographer Wander Pedro Aguiar

  Front Cover Models: Marshall Perrin

  -Prologue-

  Cobra

  Present Day

  As a boy, I identified desperation as a narcotic, something toxic that defined a man as weak. It was the sense of hopelessness I saw in my old ma
n’s eyes every time the cops knocked on our front door. It robbed him of his ability to think straight and made him crave vengeance.

  For my father, desperation was his confirmed resignation on life.

  As a man, my views have changed, and I now identify desperation as an act of war. The fundamentals of war are; someone wins, and someone dies trying, but it is the cause not the death that makes the martyr.

  My cause is simple.

  It’s driven by the ice in my veins.

  Fueled by the blood in my eyes.

  Sparked by the hate in my soul.

  My cause is retribution.

  I’ve been grooming myself for this battle since I was fourteen years old, since Vladimir Yankovich first took my sister. Back then, he didn’t have a face, nor did he have a name. By the time I discovered who was responsible for the tragedy that claimed our lives; the Russian cocksucker had already taken more from me by brutally killing my parents.

  I became familiar with desperation and morphed into the same hopeless man my father used to be. I wandered alone, hunting a faceless stranger for years, adding to my list of immoralities but never got my due vengeance.

  I gave up before I signed away on my confirmed resignation too. Resolving that all the sins I committed chasing the devil would eventually catch up with me. Life only lets you get away with inflicting evil for so long. Sooner or later we all pay the price, and when you get the bill you better be prepared to pay.

  Today I got the bill and I’m paying for my sins, but I’m not the only one, she’s paying too.

  With the heart of an angel and a soul so pure, I was sure she was sent from Heaven.

  So sweet.

  So innocent.

  She brought light into my life. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her I would never love anyone the way I love her.