by Gemma Snow
She squeezed her brother tightly and looked up to meet blue eyes so similar to her own.
“I thought you were in South America,” she said, not even bothering to hide the tears of joy that were fully streaming down her face now.
“I was,” he said. “And I’ll go back soon. But the way I see it, you’re my home, Hollie, and it’s time I come back for a bit.”
She wrapped her arms around him, around their friends and, eventually, around the men she dearly loved. For this day, as they celebrated love in its many forms, friendship, family affection, romance, for the night, as they lost each other in the deep throes of pleasure, and for decades to come, Cade and Sawyer remained Hollie’s safe ports, and she worked every day to be theirs. Their story was proof that family could be found if a woman only knew where to look and that, with love and good people by her side, she could truly weather any storm—as long as they were together.
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Red Wolves Motorcycle Club: Along Came Merrie
Beth D. Carter
Excerpt
Merrie eased up on the gas when she finally accepted the truth. She was lost. Miles from nowhere, she looked down at her gas tank light flickering dangerously low. She dug around on the passenger seat until she found her phone then illuminated it to check her bars.
Of course. Dead.
Story of her life—dead end jobs, dead end future. She’d been taking care of herself since before she should’ve and the only job she’d been able to get at age fifteen was working on a dairy farm. It was nice but it didn’t pay all that much, and she’d gotten tired of her ass being grabbed each time she came by with the coffee carafe. The idea of moving to Cheyenne had sounded good at the time but now—lost in the middle of Wyoming—somehow it didn’t seem all that smart. Why was it that none of the roads had marker signs?
She’d gotten turned around at that last pit stop—that’s what had happened. Too many roads branched out for the truckers and she’d become confused about which road she’d been on. She was always doing stupid things like that. How hard was it to follow a road?
Apparently, very hard.
It only added to the melancholy lingering in her soul. She had wanted to start over, begin a new chapter in her life, so she’d donated most of her stuff to charity, keeping only the items that were important. It had depressed the hell out of her when she’d discovered all her worldly possessions had fitted in her trunk. It wasn’t as if she’d had a happy childhood full of memorabilia and crap. Hell, she’d barely graduated high school.
A glow in the distant sky lifted her spirits. A glow meant people, civilization. Hopefully it also meant a gas station or maybe someone who had information on how far the next one was—and food would be a plus. She hadn’t eaten since the truck stop a few hours ago.
She pressed harder on the gas pedal. The quicker she reached the lights, the quicker she’d get back on the right track. Merrie kept her fingers crossed that she wasn’t too far from her destination. Who knew driving could be so exhausting?
Her focus stayed on the lights and, as she grew closer, the shape of a large barn converted into a bar drew closer. Dozens of motorcycles surrounded it, big silver and black monstrosities that pushed a slither of unease down her spine. The only bikers she’d really heard of were the made up ones on television and they were dangerous bad asses. Plus, being a woman had her naturally distrustful of bars. There were too many horror stories where a girl went into a bar never to be seen again, and this one held bikers. She slowed upon noticing an old public telephone booth toward the back of the building. Never mind that it belonged in a museum—relief poured through her. She wouldn’t have to go inside to ask for directions. She could simply call the police to help her.
Merrie flicked off her headlights as she pulled into the parking lot then headed around back near the telephone booth. She didn’t see anyone, so she turned off her car and opened the door. Getting out, she looked around and took a step toward the call box when she heard a man laugh. She swung around. In the shadows of the building, two men talked and shook hands. They wore leather vests with many patches on them but one of the men had a band of red running along the bottom of his while the other didn’t. The second man faced her, the patch on his vest white with a red devil and two Ds on it.
Suddenly, the bearded man who faced her turned his head and looked directly at her. He tapped the other guy on the shoulder and he spun on his heel too. The second biker, his goatee cut close to his chin, glared at her like she was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. Seriously creeped out, Merrie debated if she should get back in her car and just leave. The telephone stood only a few feet away. Without knowing where she was, she had no way to judge how far the next gas stop would be. Did she really want to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere? Mind made up, she pushed her misgivings away as she hurried over to the phone.
She picked up the receiver, heard a dial tone and breathed a sigh of relief. It worked! She dug in her jeans pocket for some coins and was just about to put them into the phone, when a hand twisted in her hair and pulled sharply. Needle-like pain pricked her scalp and Merrie raised her hands instinctively, trying to alleviate the throb. The phone receiver fell to dangle at the bottom of the phone box.
“Ouch!”
The man holding her hair jerked her away from the phone booth. He twisted his hand, bringing her head up so she stared into his face. Tears flooded her eyes.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, trying to free herself. This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with this type of torment. Her mother had liked to hurt her whenever she was in her drunken rages.
The biker backhanded her. White-hot heat exploded in her cheek as the force of the hit spun her around. Dirt filled her mouth as she landed hard on her front and tears filled her eyes when her nerve endings processed the pain. Fear replaced every single coherent thought and instinct in Merrie’s mind. She pushed herself up and glanced at the man, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture for him to leave her alone.
“I asked who you are,” he said coldly. “I didn’t ask for a fucking attitude.”
“M-my name is M-Merrie,” she whimpered, spitting out dirt and blood. Her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth. “P-please don’t hurt me.”
“Merrie. Well, Merrie, who were you calling?”
“N-no one,” she said.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her up to stand in front of him. He bent her arm behind her until she whimpered and tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight.
“Now why don’t I believe you?” He shook her. “Were you calling the club? Are you someone’s old lady? Or just a fucking spy?”
“I don’t know any club. Please let me go!”
“Who were you calling?” he demanded again. This time he brought his hand back in a fist.
“The police!” she cried, cringing.
He leered in her face. The stale stench of cigarettes and the sour fermentation of beer on his breath activated her gag reflex. But she swallowed down the bile. “I’ve got the police in my back pocket, you stupid bitch. They can’t help you.”
“I’m lost,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I swear. I was just calling them because I’m lost!”
“Well, shit,” someone else said.
Merrie cracked her eyes open. The other man with the gray beard looked at her with a mixture of pity and resolution. Her heart pounded as fear skyrocketed to terror and she knew her life was in jeopardy. Once again, she tugged her arm, trying to break the tight grip on her wrist.
“You fucked up, Axe,” the bearded man said. “And I don’t know if she’d have someone come looking for her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Axe snarled.
“Make sure no one finds her body.”
“No!” Merrie screamed. “I won’t tell anyone anything. I swear. I-I’ve never been here. I don
’t even know where I am. Please don’t hurt me. Please!”
“Shut up,” Axe snarled. He drew back his fist again and smashed it into her face.
Her vision faded and she gave in to the beckoning darkness.
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About the Author
Gemma Snow loves high heat, high adventures and high expectations for her heroes! Her stories are set in the past and present, from the glittering streets of Paris to cowboy-rich Triple Diamond Ranch in Wolf Creek, Montana.
In her free time, she loves to travel, and spent several months living in a fourteenth-century castle in the Netherlands. When not exploring the world, she likes dreaming up stories, eating spicy food, driving fast cars and talking to strangers. She recently moved to Nashville with a cute redheaded cat and a cute redheaded boy.
Gemma loves to hear from readers. You can find herr contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com