SAVED BY THE BAD BOY (A DEVIL'S DRAGONS MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  I simply spent that afternoon drinking some beers with old friends and watching my career fall apart.

  It was complete bullshit, and the entire precinct was well aware of that… Everyone from the Chief on down the line knew what had really happened. They didn’t know the details, but they knew that I’d found those cheerleaders… and somehow, I’d found them below the border. In a quiet, closed-doors meeting that was officially off the record and after office hours, the chief privately thanked me for whatever miracle I had pulled off – telling me in no uncertain terms that I was owed a favor… And that I needed to go away quietly. My career was over.

  I’d saved him a lot of media backlash for incompetency of his entire department, and saved our partners in Tucson the same trouble… And I was shown the door for it.

  Watching everything you’ve worked for crumble around you hurts…

  My father, on the other hand was overjoyed.

  He didn’t ask me for the truth – he knew I’d tell him if it was safe for him to know.

  He told me that he couldn’t be prouder.

  In the time since, I had plenty to do… at least for a couple of months. I took the Chief up on his favor, and was able to find myself a new career that was even more rewarding than before.

  Which only left me one tiny little problem to finally address.

  Ripped from my reflection, I glanced over at the dilapidated old bar. With a small smirk, I finally killed the ignition and stepped out over the gravel, feeling it crunch beneath my boots once again.

  When I walked back into the bar, I strolled past the regulars and straight up to the sour redhead behind the counter – whose friendly face darkened the closer I came.

  “Hi, Elmira,” I greeted her nonchalantly. “I’ll take a glass of water… easy on the spit.”

  She stared at me with a smug look on her face. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again – we don’t serve your kind here.”

  “Well, it’s a damn good thing I’m not that kind of girl anymore,” I responded with a lighthearted shrug, reaching into my pocket and tossing a card onto the counter.

  In bold letters and embossed print, it read:

  Sarah Buchanan

  PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

  “Now, if you’d be so kind, bartender… fetch me a goddamned glass of water.”

  A familiar laugh piped up from the darkness. My eyes zeroed in across the bar, landing on a cross-armed man in the shadows. He was clad in the leather of the Devil’s Dragons MC, with a rugged voice stained with smugness.

  “You’d be quicker to pour this woman a drink if you’d seen the way she shoots…”

  Hunter smiled as he leaned forward off of the wood paneling, strolling into the light from the outside windows. He lifted a few strands of hair from my face with a tender pair of fingers.

  “Had a feeling you’d be back, sooner or later…”

  “You know that I had to keep my distance while the media spun their tops over those girls,” I replied comfortably.

  “Couldn’t even spare me a little phone call, could you?” He asked, his voice smooth and soft.

  “I wasn’t sure that I could trust myself if I did…”

  “Well, you’re here now,” he observed calmly, his eyes firmly locked onto mine. I heard and ignored a veiled scoff from the redhead bartender. He leaned a little forward, eyebrow arching, and said, “Do you trust yourself to be a good girl?”

  A smirk crossed my lips.

  Did I?

  “I’m here because somebody with deep pockets lost a cargo container… and word on the street is that you’ve got operations out in California. I know that the Devil’s Dragons run the port of Los Angeles.”

  “All business, no pleasure?” Hunter chuckled, reaching out to turn my hips until I was facing him.

  The same crystal blue eyes gazed mischievously into my soul, inviting me to surrender for a few hours. That same sexy stubble shifted beneath his smile, and I spotted that same sexy dragon tattoo rolling down his arm…

  “Maybe a little pleasure, too,” I admitted, feeling the heat of my face flushing red as the bikers nearby began to hoot and holler.

  “In that case, I’ll clear my schedule…” Hunter murmured, his finger lifting my chin. “Maybe we’ll talk business tomorrow, hmm?”

  The men around us cheered again.

  My eyes caught the piercing but approving gaze of Grizz, his arm still locked up in the cast from that bullet he took in Juarez. I figured he’d have discarded it already, but it would probably be coming off any day now…

  “I think business can wait one night,” I spoke, turning back to Hunter. “But there’s something that you need to know.”

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” he chuckled hungrily. “I know it’s been a while. You’re probably out of practice… I’ll go easy on you.”

  I smirked, shaking my head. “It’s not that.”

  The room slowly drifted silent, the whistles and laughs gradually drawn back. The single sound in the bar was water pouring from a tap into a cup behind me, slamming onto the countertop harder than necessary.

  “Hunter… I’m pregnant.”

  * * *

  The End…

  * * *

  I’m Nikki Wild and I want to thank you all so much for reading Saved by the Bad Boy! As always, I’ve included a little something extra for my most loyal readers! Turn the page for free bonus copies of my bestselling novels!

  As always, I have more books coming your way SOON. I’ll have more Devil’s Dragons action, and several big surprises that you’re going to love. Keep your eyes peeled and please join my mailing list so I can let you know as SOON as I release my next book (and you might even get a chance to be an ARC reader and get your hands on it before ANYONE else).

  You are the reason I write…

  -Nikki xoxoxo

  Want More?

  Want even MORE from Nikki Wild? My latest bestselling novel KNOCKOUT is available RIGHT NOW!

  Want a little taste?

  Arrogant... Dominant... Irresistible...

  This is my city, and I'm the f&%king undefeated ruler. I have fame, money, and thousands of women screaming my name... I didn't think there was anything left in the world to desire... Until I heard Sarah cry for help...

  Until I saved her life.

  Until I looked into her sparkling eyes and told her everything is going to be okay...

  I'm done. Knocked out with one look. She didn't even have to throw a punch.

  She owes me everything...

  And now...

  I won't stop until she's mine.

  Click here to read KNOCKOUT for just 99 cents or FREE with your Kindle Unlimited subscription!

  My entire catalog is FREE TO READ for anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription! You can check out all of my sexy bad boy novels by clicking RIGHT HERE!

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  Novels by Nikki Wild

  Bad Boy Fighters:

  KNOCKOUT (A Bad Boy MMA Romance)

  * * *

  Bad Boy Bikers:

  Saving Landon (A Bad Boy Biker Romance)

  Saved by the Bad Boy (A Devil’s Dragons Biker Romance)

  * * *

  British Bad Boys:

  Royal Prick (A Bad Boy British Romance)

  Arrogant Brit (A Bad Boy British Sports Romance)

  Rock Hard (A Bad Boy British Rockstar Romance)

  Played (A Bad Boy British Romance)

  * * *

  Bad Boy Rockstars:

  Illicit Behavior (A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance)

  Rock Hard (A Bad Boy British Rockstar Romance)

  * * *

  Bad Boy Stepbrothers:

  Lust (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)
>
  Richard (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)

  * * *

  Bad Boy Billionaires:

  Protect And Serve (A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance)

  Part I

  BONUS NOVEL: ROCK HARD

  My entire catalog is FREE TO READ for anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription! You can check out all of my sexy bad boy novels by clicking RIGHT HERE!

  * * *

  Do you want new release notification, a chance to be an ARC reader, special limited time discounts, and FREE EXCLUSIVE Nikki Wild content? Click here to sign up for my WILD mailing list today! Signup is easy and I will NEVER send you spam or share your e-mail address with anyone.

  ROCK HARD

  * * *

  By Nikki Wild

  Copyright 2016 Nikki Wild

  All Rights Reserved

  * * *

  Find me at my website:

  * * *

  WWW.WILDNIKKI.COM

  * * *

  Or friend me on Facebook!

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  http://www.facebook.com/wildnikki

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  Copyright © 2016 by Nikki Wild

  All rights reserved.

  “The truth of course is that there is no journey. We are arriving and departing all at the same time.”

  -David Bowie

  1

  Catherine

  “Come on, sweet tits, join the party!”

  “What a prick!” That was my first thought.

  “Holy fucking hell, he’s so much hotter in person.” That was my second.

  “How am I ever supposed to remain professional with a man like him? A man that would have made Mother Theresa spread her legs and beg for forgiveness for all the forbidden sins she was about to commit.” That was the third.

  Ten years. Ten years that I’d worked my ass off, hustled and bargained, slaved over a keyboard until dawn, cracked out on caffeine trying to chase a lead. I’d interviewed world leaders, gone undercover to expose sex-trafficking rings, hell once I’d even scored an interview with the Queen.

  And now, here I was, on the most asinine assignment ever, in the back of a rockstar’s tour bus, forced to endure the scene in front of me. Not only that, but the most arrogant prick I’d ever met was the subject of my interview.

  It didn’t matter that he was so fucking drop-dead sexy it almost hurt to look at him. The problem was, he knew it.

  Liam Mercury - the biggest rock star this side of the pond. The lead singer for the Electric Horses, the biggest Brit-pop band since Oasis.

  Deep in the back of his tour bus parked outside of Madison Square Garden in New York City, Liam’s lanky limbs spilled out on a black leather couch, the table in front of him littered with empty bottles of champagne and whiskey. Sitting at his side were two of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. If you could call them that. They didn’t look to be any older than nineteen.

  His crude greeting was hurled at me in between removing his tongue from the blonde’s mouth and shoving it into the brunette’s. I waited till he came up for air to respond.

  “I’m Catherine Donovan.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the fucking Queen, shimmy off those knickers and get over here!”

  I shook my head. He was frightfully mistaken if he thought I was another one of his groupies. Everything about him was a cliche. Hot, spoiled, sexy, topped off with a thick British accent.

  He was every teenaged girl’s dream. And every parent’s worst nightmare.

  His long black hair flowed past his shoulders, his dark hooded eyes smoldering with sexuality. His slim, toned physique was familiar - it’d been splayed over every magazine cover and tabloid rag for the last ten years. He was all sinewy muscle and hard angles. His smooth skin was slathered in tattoos, engraved with skulls and screaming monsters and one very large British flag that I knew was spread across his back, even though I couldn’t see it now.

  I knew lots of things about Liam Mercury. I’d spent hours googling him before my arrival. I was hoping to discover something about him that hadn’t already been reported a hundred times before. That was how I worked. I took my job seriously, even if it was something that I felt was completely superficial.

  “I’m sure your manager told you to expect me —,” I began again, just as the table began moving on its own, sliding backwards until the ginger that had her head buried in his lap popped her head up - exposing his very thick, and very hard… cock.

  I couldn’t help but look.

  In fact, once my eyes locked on its throbbing magnificence, I couldn’t tear them away. My jaw dropped. So this was what all the fuss was about. It was gossip worthy, that was for sure.

  That thing should be in a museum somewhere.

  Liam Mercury and his brother Ian were the most talked about rock stars on the planet. Not only were they known for their out of this world ability to completely shred a stage, leaving crowds of thousands panting and begging for more every night, but Liam was just as famous for leaving women begging for more in the bedroom.

  His cock had met more than its fair share of supermodels and actresses and although his professional reputation was beyond scarred, every woman he’d ever dated only had wonderful things to say about him…and his cock

  It was almost as famous as he was.

  And here I was ogling it for what had suddenly become an uncomfortably long amount of time.

  Liam’s reputation out of the bedroom wasn’t exactly stellar.

  He was known as a cut-throat businessman, a spoiled and unrelenting artist, and difficult to handle prick, to put it bluntly. He’d gone through so many managers and PR agents, his label was having trouble finding anyone who would work with him.

  That’s why I was here in the first place.

  I’d been hired by Rolling Stone magazine to pen a cover story that shows that Liam Mercury in a better light… A misunderstood artist. A good man…

  I needed to show that Liam Mercury is still worth the millions his label is investing.

  I was supposed to prove that despite all the parties, the booze, the groupies, the tantrums, the interviews walked out on in a rage, the drunken fights with his brother, all the concerts started hours late or missed completely - leaving pissed off fans demanding their money back - despite all that, I’ve been assigned the task of proving that the irresponsible, bad boy reputation of Liam Mercury is all just one big misunderstanding.

  Of course, following around an arrogant rockstar for a week is hardly my idea of a dream assignment, but my options are limited right now. I’d much rather be interviewing a serious subject, writing something that could change the world.

  Hell, anything but this.

  The last thing I want to do is babysit an immature party boy for a week.

  But, as another famous rock star once said, “You can’t always get what you want.”

  I was stuck. The offers weren’t coming as fast as they used to. Everyone got their news in a hundred and forty characters and the world seemed to be much more interested in who the Kardashians were screwing this week instead of a serious in-depth look at the civil war in Syria or the economic crisis in Brazil.

  Unfortunately, my journalistic integrity came second to my stomach. I still had to eat, so here I was, paying the bills by accepting this job.

  Which was basically professional slumming, as far as I was concerned.

  This week couldn’t pass quickly enough. I’d write my puff piece, try to shower off the filth from being in this bus, and never think about Liam Mercury ever again.

  I was glad my dad wasn’t around to see me do this.

  “Mr. Mercury, I’m Catherine Donovan, your manager let me on your bus,” I tried once more, raising my voice. “I’m here from Rolling Stone magazine. To interview you? I’ll just wait up front until you’re…,” my voice trailed off as I realized I had reverted to staring at his cock again. I snapped my eyes up quickly, my gaze clashing with his, “ready.”

  “Don’t I look ready, luv
?” His blue eyes taunted me and he reached down, sliding his fingers around the base of his cock and waving it at me. He was ready. I swallowed hard, and forced my gaze back up and away from that famous masterpiece.

  “I’m not here for that,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice curt and professional. The ginger squeezed in tightly next to the brunette and they began kissing each other and moaning loudly.

  “What a shame,” Liam said, with a wink. “There’s enough of me to go around, you know.”

  The blonde erupted in giggles and flipped her long locks over her shoulder. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  Stay professional, I thought to myself.

  “I’ll be up front. Whenever you’re ready for me…” my voice trailed off as my eyes raked down his muscular chest and landed once more on his throbbing cock.

  “Don’t hold your breath love. If you want to interview me, it’ll have to be on my terms.” His voice was teasing me, and he still had his hand wrapped around that snake between his legs.

  I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some small part of me that was interested in what exactly his terms might be…

  But I had a job to do. And that didn’t include jumping on top of Liam Mercury’s illustrious cock.

  “I was hired by your label,” I tore my eyes away once again, forcing myself to look directly into his bright blue eyes. I ignored the electric pulse that shot through my body. “I don’t work for you, and I don’t work on your terms. I’ll be on tour with you for a week. I’ll be reporting whatever I observe until we get to Los Angeles. What I report and how I report it isn’t really up to you.”