*****
Heaven woke the next morning with a hangover but was deliciously sore in all the right places. She let out a soft little moan and stretched, realizing she was sandwiched between two hunks of muscle. The night wasn’t a total blur, but her half-asleep brain was still trying to catch up. Gage had told her that he loved her. That realization sent her from groggy to wide the fuck awake. And Raven…they’d both put their claim on her. She needed to escape. It was too much to process before caffeine. Or with a hangover. Or just in general.
Trying her best to untangle the arms and legs that pinned her to the bed, she slid out and, thanks to her reigning Twister champion status, managed to turn and twist over Gage and onto the floor without making a noise. She let out a quiet sigh and headed for the bathroom. Her foot got tangled in a pair of jeans that were bunched on the floor and she reached down to toss them out of the way when she spotted something sticking out of the pocket. What the hell? she thought to herself and picked the wadded material up. It was her panties. The ones she’d worn the first night with Raven. Has he been carrying them with him all this time? She dropped them and all but ran to the bathroom, holding her breath until she shut and locked the door. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out, catching her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a woman in love. Her. The girl who had been alone for so long, now had two of the hottest guys in the world in bed. The same bed she’d just been in. With them. She smiled a wicked little grin and used the restroom. After she’d washed her hands and face, she ran a quick brush through her hair and turned. Behind that door was her men, naked, in bed. Oh, this was the best morning of her existence. Heaven opened the door and slid back between them, using her hands and mouth to wake them up in creative ways that had them pouncing on her. Yum.
Epilogue
The sun was high in the sky, showing a new beginning they all seemed to appreciate. The girls all stood outside the motel, dressed and refreshed from the past two days they’d been relaxing. Everyone had woken refreshed and ready to take on whatever was next.
“It’s over now,” Abi said to Shady, giving her a hug. Shady looked around at all of the faces surrounding her.
“Yeah. It’s over.” For the first time, she was able to fully let go of the past. Jas walked up beside them and put an arm around her. “And you, little girl, are a chip off the ol’ block,” she laughed and hugged her daughter.
“Life wasn’t so easy growing up. So I learned how to defend myself,” she shrugged.
“And wielding a knife like that was part of your learnings?” Shady’s eyebrows rose. Hell, she was overjoyed her little girl had sensed the evil and had secretly armed herself for the time it came to have to use it. That life—and all she’d left behind—was something she wished she could have changed for her. It was a miracle she’d been born with the instincts for self-preservation.
“Yeah. So was learning how to shoot,” she grinned.
“Jas, I’m so sorry… If I would’ve had a way—”
“Don’t. You found me, and I’m never gonna let anyone take me away from you again.” She smiled and hugged her tighter.
“Not to break up this afternoon special, but we have work to do, ladies. There is a bunch of girls with nowhere to go and are gonna need a home and family after they get released from the hospital,” Chevy said, smiling at the girls around them.
“Then I guess we better get busy,” Red piped in. There didn’t need to be a vote or a discussion. The girls were all on board the moment they’d heard the Feds say some would have to go into protective services because of no family and had immediately volunteered. Since they were out of country, and given the bloody massacre they’d just left behind, there wasn’t anyone stupid enough to tell them no. Not even Tonto or Fork.
“Ladies? Let’s ride.” Chevy’s words had all the women of both MC clubs mounting their bikes and roaring off down the road, taking the lead ahead of their guys who’d protect them, and die for them.
~The End ~
Books by Harley McRide
Ops Warriors MC
Sharing Freedom
Bringing Harmony
Shady
Devil Savages MC
Bed of Roses
Burned by Abi
Highway to Heavan
Lady Riders
Rain Falls – Coming Soon
I would love to hear from you!
Website: http://harleymcride.webs.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/harley.mcride?fref=ts
Teaser from the new book Rain Falls in the brand new series Lady Riders by Harley McRide
“Ladies? Let’s ride.” Chevy’s words had all the women of both MC clubs mounting their bikes and roaring off down the road, taking the lead ahead of their guys who’d protect them—and would die for them.
Rain rode in the back of the pack, yes she agreed with everything her friends had said and done. However, once they learned the truth about her. Shady and the others were going to fucking freak, and the worst thing was, she was going to have to tell them soon. Because the fucking devil had come calling, and her debt was owed.
Yes she had been stupid enough to make a deal with the devil, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t find her for a long time. She had made sure she changed her name, and her appearance, but apparently when you had a black soul, killing people to get information wasn’t beyond your scope of what you would do to find someone.
The call right before she left to come to Mexico had proved that. She still hadn’t dealt with the guilt she was feeling for hiding info from them. Then of course, she wasn’t sure if her past was connected to this situation. Who would have thought Shady’s crazy ass family was in the skin trade. Everything happens for a reason, Rain thought and leaned over her bike and sped up. She needed to feel the air in her hair, and the freedom of the wind. Shit, she was going to have to finally talk about this shit. How would they all feel knowing she was still married to a monster.
Excerpt from Two Worlds Collide – A Biker’s Journey
By Rory Flannigan
I am putting all this in writing not because I lived a particularly splendid life, nor because I am proud of all the things I've done and feel the need that I should brag about them. I think I am mostly putting it down on paper to remember special things to me in my past, and all the things I've done and seen, which have made me the man I am today. And especially more importantly, all the people I've known who will be remembered after I'm gone.
Within this story, I will not use the names of any person, nor will I name any particular organization I was associated with in my life. Not because names aren't important, but only because most of the ones I knew have either passed on, or they probably wouldn't care to have their name associated with anything I tell you about. Within this book, I will tell you of people who were like family to me, and some of them who actually were. But others were just people I spent the majority of my life with, and over time they became like brothers and sisters to me.
I will tell you my view of who these people really were, and not the views, assumptions, and opinions of news media outlets looking to make a buck from sensationalizing a group of people. Nor the opinions of law enforcement that didn't know them, and never spent over a few minutes with any of them. However, they criticized and criminalized them to have an enemy to fight against.
Yes, I'm speaking of bikers and bike clubs. You know, the kind of bikers who have been demonized in movies, television, and newspapers since the 1930s. Those entities will always tell you only one side of the story in order to sensationalize and make money off nothing more than their opinion. But here I will tell you in as much detail as possible my version of who these people really are.
No, I don't expect to change many hearts and minds with what I tell you here. Though I am in hopes it will give those that read this a different perspective as to who and what we really are. Because face the facts…we have been around for over 80 years, and we haven't ever had the ability to take
over the world or even cause any radical change to the world. Logically, how could we be all that we have been hyped-up to being?
So…before I get into the crux of the story, I guess I should begin where all stories begin—the birth of the subject. And since the subject of this story is myself, we shall begin there. However, I must first assure you that I have no remembrance of 1958, which was the year of my birth.
My earliest recollection of reality didn't come to me until about 1961. At three years old, and being born into a somewhat reclusive and scattered family, as far as I can recall I was a happy child. But at the age of three or four years old, how would I really know one way or the other since I had nothing else to compare it to at the time. It was possibly about the time of life when I realized I was different in some ways, compared to other kids my age. Most kids in my age group had a stable family life, and they lived at home with a mother and father, but I never had a concept of that, because the way things were when I was a child, my grandfather had played the role of the father figure in my life. While other kids saw it as odd, it was normal to me, or the only normal I knew at the time.
I was born to a single mother, because my father had decided to leave before I was born, and since it was his choice to do so, he seems to be pretty much irrelevant to any events in my life. I do have a recollection of him in the sense of when my mother and my grandparents talked about him, they referred to him as "Hardhead" or our "Sperm Donor". And the only connection we had to him was through his parents, who would show up once a year or so to visit my brother, not necessarily to visit me. From what I was told, they labored under the illusion that I possibly wasn't his kid, so they never claimed me as one of their grandchildren. I did meet my sperm donor for the first time when I was about thirty-four years old, and other than me looking somewhat like him, that was the extent of the connection with him. It seems I was unlucky enough to get his looks, but my brother was unlucky enough to get his piss poor attitude and mentality as a human being. I've never had any dealings with the man—I don't know him—and have no wishes to know him. Therefore, I have no feeling good or bad for him. He could die tomorrow, and I wouldn't shed a tear over his death.
Excerpt from Charlie’s Heart
Burning Bastards MC book three
By Ryder Dane
Charlie rode his scoot into the parking lot and parked the ancient machine next to Big Dog’s bike. He wondered what the deal was tonight, Big Dog had left three messages on his cell phone, and all of them said he was needed at the clubhouse pronto.
He saw a couple of vehicles that looked like cop cars, but many of the brothers bought old cages at auction if the interceptor motors were still under the hood and customized the ugly fuckers into sweet rides that sold for a pretty profit. So it didn’t overly concern him much.
He didn’t want to be here, hell, he didn’t want to be much of anywhere lately, at least not for a few months now. Ever since he’d let Selma fly in fact. He had always been a lobo, free from shackles and baggage. No woman could hold him for longer than a few months at a time. Those times were damn good ones, at least from his point of view, but sooner than later the females started demanding permanency, and that was not in his vocabulary. Until early last year, when he met Selma, she was everything he wasn’t.
She was an educated woman, a lawyer in fact. She was beautiful in the way a mature woman who knew her worth was beautiful. Selma made him feel like a better man. Like he was smarter than he actually was, and she rode his prick like it was a trick pony any time, and just about anywhere the notion hit them. She was younger than he was by fourteen years, but it didn’t make no never mind to either of them. She looked damned good perched on the thick cushioned bitch seat he’d bought for her little ass to sit behind him on while they enjoyed feeling the wind on their knees and the joy of freedom as the wind whipped past their cheeks.
He’d been avoiding the clubhouse, and his old pastimes held no interest for him. He had a pack of smokes in his pocket nowadays instead of his sugar packets. Why worry about dying of lung cancer if nobody was around to care anyway. He wasn’t ready to hang himself, but the days after letting his lady loose, well that hanging idea hadn’t seemed like such a bad notion.
She got elected to her dream job of being a circuit court judge, and he was happy for her, more happy than she probably would believe. She wanted to make a difference, and he let her go so she could. Oh she started out wanting him to continue to be part of her life, but the demands of that were too much for a man like him to concede to.
He wasn’t a show horse, never had been, and when she asked him to wear a suit and tie, he’d almost laughed his ass off. Next request was to cut his hair to a more acceptable style for the image of a judge’s escort to appear. He’d flatly refused both of her requests in a harsh and uncompromising way.
“I ain’t no tamed whipped pup, woman, you can’t rope the wind or cage a wild thing like me. I’m a biker tramp, and I ain’t got no want to wear fancy clothes and sit down to dinner holding my pinky up while I have to drink some watery fuckin’ tea or some shit like that.”
He had regrets, but there was no way he would have missed knowing her even if he could. She was the bright spot in his life, and he was beginning to acknowledge that she’d taken a big ol’ chunk of him when he’d made love to her the last time. He’d put everything he had in that last session, he wanted her to always remember him.
He walked into the club and stopped short. Big Dog was lookin’ concerned, and the place was about as quiet as he’d seen since the funeral for Farley a couple of years ago. Two men in funeral suits were sitting at the table with Big Dog. Fuck, this was some kind of setup. The big man gave him a slight nod, and Charlie took a couple of moments to center himself. He hated fuckin’ cops.
Tiny handed him a beer as he walked by, and he nodded to the man in thanks, and kept on moving. He stood behind the suits and said, “Hey, Big D, what’s going on?”
The two men tried to crane their necks to see the man they’d come to see, but the prez waved him into a chair on his right side. Charlie hesitated for a few heartbeats and sat down. No one spoke. He didn’t like the way the cross-eyed fuckers were staring at him. He drained his beer and slowly placed it on the table in front of him before folding his hands and looking directly at the bigger of the two men.
“Okay, I’m here, there must be a reason for this unsolicited visit. Let’s get on with you tellin’ me what you think you can accuse me of doing, and I’ll deny it. Go ahead, I’m not in a bad mood or nothin’.”
The two glanced at each other and the short one nodded. “You are Charles Vernon?” Charlie nodded, not bothering to answer verbally, what would be the point?
“I’m Agent Hill, and this is my partner Agent Scott. We’re here to ask you a few questions about a woman that we believe you know.” He opened the file in front of him and passed over a glossy eight by ten of Selma. Seeing her made his guts tighten, but outwardly he nodded.
“Yeah, I know her, she’s a good woman and a fair judge.” Seeing the agent fingering the file, he got a tingle up his spine. “Why dontcha just come out with it? I need another beer, but since I don’t drink with strangers and people I don’t trust. I have to wait till you’re done beatin’ around the fuckin’ bush. Is there a problem with me being her friend?”
Both agents shook their heads and looked at Big Dog before continuing. He shrugged his shoulders and folded his hands across his belly as he continued to lounge in the chair.
Agent Hill cleared his throat and sighed. He blew out his breath and blurted it out. “The Honorable Judge Selma Pearson has disappeared, and we have reason to believe her life is in danger.”
JK Publishing, Inc.
-webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
Highway to Heaven Page 16