Riding the Line (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation)

by Winter Travers

  “Well, I’m happy for him. I wish he would have made those changes before I ever met him.”

  Royal shook her head. “No, you don’t because if he had been a better guy, you would have never left Destin, and this amazing life you’re building in Rockton would never have happened.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I really hate when you’re right,” I grumbled.

  “You’ve got your life figured out, Indy.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “You, Grit, and this baby are all I have left.”

  “Then let’s get started on getting your life figured out.”

  *

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frost

  “Can we do that again?”

  “We just did,” I panted.

  “I mean again again.” Indiana lifted her head from my chest and smiled. “That thing you did with your thumb?” She winked. “Two very enthusiastic thumbs up.”

  “You’re crazy, darlin’.” I steadied my breathing and pressed my hand on her bare back.

  She laid her head back down and sighed. “I think I’ll fit in just fine around here, then.”

  That was the damn truth.

  “I was talking to Royal when you were in church,” she whispered.

  “Yeah? She okay?” Marco had told us everything the Meeks had planned before they struck a deal with the Banachis. Pure evil lived in Destin, and Royal had been damn lucky to get out when she did.

  She ran her fingers over my chest. “Yeah.”

  “Just letting me know you talked to her, or is there something else?”

  Her hand stopped. “She said Grit is doing better, and I made the comment that I wish he would have been a better guy before.” She tipped her back and looked at me. “But then I never would have met you because if Grit would have known how to actually treat me decent, I never would have moved to Rockton and worked at the club.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, darlin’.”

  “So I really went through some shit, but I had to go through that to get to you. I wouldn’t be right here if it hadn’t been for Grit.” She reached up and placed a finger on my lips. “In a weird way, I sort of owe Grit for fucking up so bad that he chased me clear across the country and right to you.”

  “This life right now is your reward, darlin’. You don’t deserve anything but the best from this day forward.” I brushed her hair back from her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. “But there ain’t no way in hell I will ever say I owe Grit. Fuck that asshole.”

  “There’s my badass biker,” she laughed. “For about two seconds, I was thankful for Grit being an ass, and then, I got over it.”

  Thank fucking God. I knew Royal was one of those hippy chicks who could see the good in everything, but sometimes, there wasn’t any good in people.

  Rider Meeks was a good fucking example of that.

  Willing to sell his kid and baby mama for a few thousand dollars? Fuck that asshole, too.

  “So, is she sticking around?” I asked.

  Indiana nodded. “I think so. She said Grit and I are all she has besides her baby. I think she needs to be here, and I hope she can become part of the family I found here.”

  “You think Royal is gonna wanna hang out with a bunch of bikers? Raise her baby?”

  The life I lived with the rest of the Knights wasn’t for the faint of the heart. We lived hard and rode the line between good and evil. Every now and then, we crossed that line, but we always ended on the right side.

  “I think this club is exactly what she needs. At the end of the day, you guys are a family. You have each other’s back, no matter what.”

  “We ride the line, darlin’. Live hard, love even harder.”

  Her hand caressed my cheek. “And that is what I love about you, Frost. This club is your life and family. Nothing comes between that.”

  “And now, you’re a part of that.” I closed the space between our mouths. The plush softness of her lips melded into my hard and unyielding ones.

  “I think I wanna ride that line with you forever, Frost,” she whispered against my lips.

  “Forever and ever, darlin’.”

  *

  Chapter Twenty

  Indiana

  “Is this really happening?”

  I tipped my head back and looked at the large building. “Uh, I think so.”

  Royal rubbed her stomach. “I think you’re living in a fantasy world, Indy. You went from living in shithole Destin to opening your own pole dancing studio.”

  “Pole Stars.” The name rolled off my tongue. “I am the lead instructor at Pole Stars Rockton.” Yeah, I was still pretty shocked about it, too. We still had a long way to go, but it was going to happen.

  A week ago, King had announced that Meg, Cyn, and Paige’s hair-brained idea was actually going to happen.

  Royal was settling in well in the clubhouse. It was good to have my best friend back in my life, and I could easily see her living in Rockton once everything settled back down.

  Surveillance at the club had been upped by a hundred, and no one went anywhere unless there was two members with them. Of course, that wasn’t really a hassle because the only places we were allowed to go were the clubhouse and the dance studio.

  Reva was also able to go to work, but I think the reason why that was okay was because she literally worked across the street. Hero spent his days at Hair of the Dog while Easy was chasing Luna and Greta around.

  Luna and Greta weren’t supposed to be going anywhere, either, but it was just a known fact that Luna was going to do whatever she wanted and Easy better be there watching her.

  We walked into the building, and I turned in a slow circle. “This place is huge,” I gasped.

  “Isn’t it!” Meg called. “It’s a blank slate, and I can’t wait for Pole Stars to take it over!”

  Meg gave us the tour of the space, and I got more and more excited with each idea she threw at us.

  “This is really happening,” I cried.

  Meg put her arm around my shoulders. “We’ll make you the best studio, and you’ll teach the masses of Rockton how to shake their asses.”

  “You need to put that on a billboard,” Royal laughed.

  Meg pointed at Royal. “And that’s why you’re in charge of marketing. Can’t really have you whirling around on a pole when you’re nine months pregnant.” Royal planned on being another instructor, but that wasn’t going to happen until she pushed my little niece or nephew out. Until then, she was going to do everything she could to promote the hell out of Pole Stars.

  Royal’s phone rang. “It’s Grit. I better take this.”

  I rolled my eyes and wandered around with Meg. I had come to terms with the fact that Grit wasn’t ever going to fully be out of my life if Royal was in it, but that didn’t mean I had to stand by and listen to her talk to him.

  “We’re gonna put floor-to-ceiling mirrors on these two walls, and there will be enough for twenty-two poles in this studio.” Meg moved to the middle of the building and held her arms out in front of her in a V. “Studio A this way. “She turned to the right. “And Studio B this way. We’ll be able to have—”

  Royal’s blood-curdling scream ricocheted off the walls, and she dropped to her knees. “No!”

  Meg and I rushed over to her, and I tried to pull the phone from her.

  “No, please, no. Don’t do this. He didn’t do anything!” Royal sobbed into the phone.

  I snatched the phone from her hand and stabbed the speaker button. “Who is this?” I yelled.

  “I’m sorry, Royal. I tried to fix it. I just wanted to make everything right.”

  I realized it was Grit. His voice was weak, and his breathing was shallow.

  “What’s wrong, Grit? Where are you?” I shouted.

  “I’m sor—” A loud bang sounded and shook me to the core. Meg jumped, and Royal sobbed uncontrollably while I tried to keep my grip on the phone.

  I clutched the phone in my hand and tried to figure out what the hel
l was happening. “Grit!” I shouted. “Grit, can you hear me?”

  A loud booming voice filled the deafening silence. “Inform Mr. Banachi the deal is off, and I’m coming for what belongs to me.”

  The line went dead, and I dropped the phone. I grabbed Royal by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “What happened, Royal? What did they say when you answered the phone?”

  “He’s dead, Indy,” she sobbed. “They killed Grit because Marco did something. They said they were fucked over, and now, I was going to pay for it.” She struggled to breathe and gagged. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why they killed Grit!”

  Meg’s eyes connected with mine. She pulled out her phone and headed out the front door.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Frost shouted.

  I gathered Royal in my arms and just held her.

  Meg gave Frost the quick rundown of what little we knew, then slipped out the door.

  Frost couched next to us and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Let me get her, darlin’. You guys don’t need to be on the dirty floor.”

  Royal clung to me, her crying uncontrollable, and sobs ripped from her lips. “He didn’t do anything,” she shouted. “Why?!”

  Frost managed to pull her from me and gathered her in his arms. I grabbed the phone from the ground and chased behind Frost as he stalked back to the clubhouse.

  A black town car with blacked-out windows pulled up to the front door, and Marco jumped out.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Frost thundered.

  King and the rest of the guys burst out of the clubhouse and stood toe to toe with Marco.

  Marco took a deep breath. “I made a mistake.”

  *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Royal

  Why?

  Indiana’s Sloppy Joe Recipe

  Perfect for your next impromptu MC gathering

  6 lbs. lean ground beef

  1 small onion, minced

  3 cans tomato soup

  4 Tbsp yellow mustard

  1 ¼ cups brown sugar

  1 Tbsp Worcestershire

  Salt and pepper to taste

  Brown ground beef with onion.

  Drain grease.

  Put back on heat. Add tomato soup, yellow mustard, brown sugar, Worcestershire, salt and pepper.

  Bring to simmer.

  Simmer for 1 hour.

  Serve on your favorite bun.

  ***Halve or quarter the recipe if you’re not cooking for Lo and the boys.

  Coming Soon

  Trapped with the Bad Bay

  Wild Preacher’s Club, book 2

  Thrill Seeker

  Kings of Vengeance MC, book 5

  About the Author

  Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and to the place they now call home.

  Winter spends her days writing happily ever-afters, and her nights being a karate mom hauling her son to practices and tournaments.. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, puppies, and baking.

  Winter loves to stay connected with her readers. Don’t hesitate to reach out and contact her.

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  Dive into the first chapter of Nickel!

  Nickel

  Fallen Lords MC

  Book 1

  Chapter 1

  Karmen

  I couldn’t find a box big enough to fit him in.

  Well, that makes me sound like a murderer or something. Nickel, the man in question, is still very much alive, I assure you. I should probably go back a little bit and explain.

  My father went to prison when I was thirteen, and I can’t remember my mother. She left before I could even have a memory of her. He always told me we were better off without her. Things were rough for us, but we always had each other. Well, I had my dad. My dad had me and beer. I can’t remember a time I didn’t smell hops on his breath.

  I went to my first day of preschool and asked the teacher why her breath didn’t smell like my dad. That ended up with my dad in the principal’s office for an hour and me crying the whole way home while my dad yelled at me. That was the last time I ever mentioned my dad’s drinking to anyone. I was a fast learner and caught on quick. One mess up, and I never made the same mistake again.

  The night my dad went to prison, I was at home, like normal, while he was out at the bar three miles down the road. He regularly walked to the bar and stumbled home, but that night, there was a severe storm predicted to blow in, so he decided he would take the truck. That decision changed my life and made me see everything in a whole new light.

  I was sprawled out on the living room floor, watching TV, when there was a loud pounding on the front door, and I figured it was my dad. It was normal for him to forget his keys and bang to get inside.

  I opened the door to two police officers, with my grandma, Vivian, standing behind them. I only saw my grandma at Christmas. I knew the second I laid eyes on her, something was not right.

  It seemed my father had decided to call it a night after drinking almost a twenty-four pack of beer and tried to drive home. In that three-mile drive to the house that had no turns or curves on it, my father had managed to hit a soccer mom in her minivan with her three children in the back. Only one child survived.

  The police told me I had to go with my grandma until they figured something out. Meanwhile, she stood behind them, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. After they were done, my grandma barged between the two police officers and started firing off orders about packing a bag and getting all my stuff ready to go. We weren’t going to stay in the “hell hole” anymore.

  While I was packing up my things, completely in shock, I heard my grandma down the hall, bitching and moaning about having to take care of me. I knew then and there that things were never going to be the same.

  After she hauled me over to her trailer—that was not much better than the “hell hole” I used to live in—I begged to see my dad. Every day, she told me, and I quote, “I couldn’t see the bastard yet.”

  Two weeks after I went to live with Vivian—she hated when I called her Grandma—I finally got to see my dad. After I was searched, I was led to a room with a glass wall and partitions separating small stools that faced the window. I was told to sit on the stool furthest to the left and wait. Vivian sat in the corner, pissed off that the guards said she had to be in there with me, even though I honestly didn’t want her there.

  It had taken ten minutes before my father walked through the door. He looked the same as the last time I had seen him, except for the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. He sat down on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. He motioned his hand for me to do the same. I put the receiver to my ear and held my breath.

  “Hey, baby.” He always called me baby. I couldn’t remember him ever using my real name unless he was serious, and serious didn’t often happen with my dad.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I whispered.

  “Everything going okay over at Vivian’s?”

  I nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t plan for this to happen.” My first thought was, what a stupid saying. Who the hell plans to drink twenty-four beers and then plow a family off the road? There’s probably a very short list of people who plan for something like that.

  “It’s okay.” What else was I supposed to say?

  “I think I’m going to be in here for a while.”

  I nodded again, because it finally hit me. Seeing my father behind a thick glass wall in an orange jumpsuit was hammering it home, that life as I knew it was about to change. A tear I had been holdin
g in streaked down my face and landed on the small ledge in front of me.

  “Don’t cry, baby.” His eyes were on me, watching the tears I was so desperately trying to hold in finally run down my cheeks.

  “I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” I wheezed out. My tears were coming fast and furious now. I was five seconds away from becoming an emotional, blubbering mess.

  “You don’t need to worry. Vivian is going to take care of you. I had the police call her as soon as they could,” he said, trying to reassure me.

  I was unable to talk. I tried wiping at the tears, but by the time I whisked them away, new ones were falling, taking their place.

  “Karmen,” he sternly said into the phone. I glanced up and found him staring at me. “Handels don’t cry, Karmen. Dry your tears. Nothing can be done now but to go on and make the best of the situation we are in.”

  I wiped my eyes again, willing the tears to stop. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Kleenex Vivian had pressed into my hand as I walked to the door before. My father’s words rang in my head. He always used to say, “We need to make the best of our situation.” He would always tell me that when we would run out of money or had to find a new place to live.

  “I don’t know how to go on, Daddy. Vivian doesn’t want me there,” I hiccupped into the phone.

  My dad shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, baby. We both have to do things we don’t want to right now. I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”

  “I know,” I whispered. I didn’t want my dad to worry about me when he was in prison. I’d have to keep my fears to myself about living with Vivian.

  “Go on, I need to talk to your grandma now.” I nodded my understanding. “I love you, Karmen. Please don’t forget that.”