Alphas After Dark (9 Book Bundle of Sexy Alpha Biker Bad Boys)

by Vivian Arend

  "I'll be fine." She squeezed my hand. "We have new security." She glanced at Besian. "And other protection."

  I hugged her close. "Be careful."

  "I will." She stepped back and dug for her keys in her purse. "Let me know if you still want to go see a movie tomorrow night." Her gaze skipped to Ben. "If you change your mind, I'll understand."

  "We'll see."

  Keys in hand, she headed toward her compact hybrid. She sized up the situation with Ben and Besian and stopped walking. Gesturing toward the mob boss, she asked, "Do you need a ride?"

  He seemed surprised by her offer. I could tell he wanted to say yes. His body language screamed for her, but he shook his head and declined. "I'll call one of my men to come get me."

  "I'm headed to Abby's. I pass by a couple of your clubs on the way. It's no trouble to drop you off at one of them if that's where you're headed." She hesitated. "It's really the least I could do."

  The mob boss finally nodded. "I appreciate it."

  She smiled nervously and gave him a wide berth on her way to the driver's side. Watching the fearsome man slide into the passenger seat of the shiny little hybrid made me smile. What would his associates say when he was dropped off at one of his strip clubs in that thing?

  As Besian and Marley pulled away from the house, I turned my attention to Ben. He stood awkwardly near Baby, the keys clenched in his fist, and gazed at me with such longing that I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around his neck.

  Refusing to forgive and forget that easily, I remained cold and aloof as I closed the distance between us. I held out my hand and arched an eyebrow. Ben gently placed the keys on my palm. The touch of his skin against mine sent a delicious arc up my arm and into my chest, but I ignored my body's reaction.

  Closing my fingers around the keys, I rather haughtily remarked, "Well, I suppose four days late is better than never."

  "I'm sorry." He blew out a noisy breath. "I am sorry, Aston."

  "For the car or for running away from me and leaving me with nothing but a note?"

  "All of it," he said. "I'm a criminal asshole who doesn't deserve you."

  My irritation with him lessened. "After the rough start you had in life, the odds of you ending up on the right side of the law weren't high."

  "I could have done better. I should have done better."

  "You can change."

  He didn't lie to me. "I am what I am, Aston. Sure, maybe, I can get out of the shadiest shit the family does, but I'm in the family until I die. Besian might allow me to fight my way out of the real mobbed-up side of things, but I'll always be under his thumb. Always."

  I understood what he was trying to tell me. Still, I needed to know what, exactly, he had done for his family. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

  "No. I've never crossed that line. Not even with Calvin," he reminded me. "I haven't ever hit a woman or raped or trafficked. I've hurt people. A lot of people," he added sadly. "I've worked as a bouncer in strip clubs and I've guarded escorts."

  I winced at that revelation. "No more of that, Ben. I mean it."

  He swept both hands out in front of him. "Done."

  "Look, I'm not naïve. I know that your family comes with you as a packaged deal, but there are other ways for you to be useful to them without being a thief."

  His brow furrowed. "How do you figure that?"

  "I don't have it totally worked out yet, but I have some ideas. You'll have to trust me."

  "I do trust you."

  "Then tell me why you ran."

  Ben swallowed nervously. He looked as if he wanted to do anything but talk about his feelings. I stood my ground and waited, forcing him to confront whatever it was that had caused him to flee. Finally, he confessed, "I ran because I was scared."

  "Of what? Me?"

  "I can't have you, but I want you. You're like way up here." His hand rose above his head. "And I'm down there." He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot. "I watched you sleep, and I tried to think about how I could be with you, but I didn't have the answer so I took off before it got awkward."

  "I would have preferred awkward to the note."

  "I know. I should have stayed. I shouldn't have been so afraid to face you, but you make me feel—"

  "What?" I asked, anxious to hear the answer. "What do I make you feel?"

  He interlaced our fingers and lifted my hand for a kiss. "Hope, Aston. You make me feel hope."

  I wasn't silly or romantic enough to think that our future was going to be easy. There were going to be some huge obstacles in our path, but I figured that after surviving that crazy first night together, there wasn't much we couldn’t overcome if we tried.

  "Aston?" Ben eyed me cautiously, almost as if he feared I would send him away with his tail tucked between his legs.

  Squeezing his hand, I stepped closer and placed my hand on his chest. I enjoyed the feel of all that hard heat beneath my palm and breathed in the wonderful scent of him. "I still owe you six days and six nights as collateral."

  Grinning, he slid his hand down the curve of my spine to settle on my backside. He gave me a playful swat. "Yes, you do."

  "After that, we'll have to renegotiate our contract."

  He let loose an exaggerated groan. "I don't know about that. Besian tells me you're tough."

  "I think you're man enough to handle a tough woman."

  He laughed and dipped his head to kiss me. "Yes, I am."

  I made him work for that kiss, tugging back and evading his mouth until he finally resorted to clasping my nape in his huge hand and holding me still. I melted into his sensual kiss and slid my arms around his waist. When we separated a long time later, I glanced at Baby and smiled. Taking his hand, I tugged him toward her. "Come on. Let's go for a ride."

  He planted his feet and shot me a warning look. "Let's try to keep the stunt driving to a minimum tonight."

  I rolled my eyes. "Quit whining. Get in."

  He smacked my bottom again, hard enough that I yelped. The promising look in his intense gaze sent a swarm of butterflies through my belly. When I slipped behind the wheel, I took a moment to simply enjoy Baby. I ran my hands over her dash and the wheel and tried to memorize the leather scent.

  "You really love this car." Ben watched me intently, his expression gentle and understanding.

  "Some of my best memories were made in this car. I learned to drive right here on this driveway with Daddy sitting in that seat. I took this car to my first drive-in movie over in Hockley and had my first kiss in it. Marley and I took Baby on our first road trip."

  "Where did you go?"

  "South Padre Island." I smiled at the memories of that trip. Glancing at Ben, I said, "The last time someone sat in the passenger seat with me was the morning Daddy told me he had pancreatic cancer and that it was too far gone. We sat in here and cried together."

  The smile Ben had been mirroring as I told him about the good times deflated as I talked about that awful morning. He reached for my hand and dragged it onto his lap. He held it between both of his big paws. "I'm sorry, Aston. How long ago did he pass?"

  "Seven months," I said, still feeling the gaping hole he had left behind in my life. "I miss him so much."

  "It gets a little easier," he promised. "Mom has been gone for seven years, and I still choke up when I think about her. I'm not consumed by the grief anymore. It takes time."

  "I don't want what Calvin did to ruin everything wonderful that's happened in this car. I don’t want to think about his stupid, mean face every time I slide behind the wheel."

  "You won't."

  "How can you know that?"

  Ben leaned over and kissed me, pressing all the passion he held for me into the mating of our mouths. When he pulled back, he swept his fingers down my face. "Because you and I are going to make so many new memories," he swore. "You, me and Baby? We're going places." That sinful, sexy grin of his made my tummy flutter. His hand cupped my knee and moved slowly up my thigh. "I can think of a f
ew memories I'd like to make tonight."

  Swallowing hard, I turned the key in the ignition and smiled when Ben fastened my seat belt for me. As I rolled down the driveway, his rough fingers slipped under my skirt and headed for my panties. I let my thighs fall open and inhaled a shaky breath when his fingers slipped under the sheer lace.

  Idling at that first stop sign, I turned into his seeking kiss. His fingertips finally found their mark, and I whimpered. Ben nibbled my lower lip before pulling back to gaze at me with such tenderness. "Where are you taking me?"

  "I have no idea," I admitted with a laugh.

  He kissed my neck. "That's okay. As long as we're together, I'm happy."

  Infected by Ben's hope for our future, I smiled at him and eased on the gas. I really didn't have any idea where we would end up, but I suspected we were going to enjoy every second of our journey.

  Thanks so much for taking a chance on Aston and Ben's tale! You can catch up with Besian and Marley in Past Due coming Summer 2014.

  Debt Collection is a spinoff trilogy of my bestselling Her Russian Protector and Fighting Connollys series.

  MORE FROM ROXIE RIVERA

  When I’m not chasing after my wild preschooler, I like to write super sexy romances and scorching hot erotica. I live in Texas with a husband who could easily snag a job as an extra on History Channel’s new Viking series and a sweet but rowdy four-year-old.

  I also have another dirty-book writing alter ego, Lolita Lopez, who writes deliciously steamy tales for Ellora’s Cave, Forever Yours/Grand Central, Mischief/Harper Collins UK, Siren Publishing and Cleis Press.

  You can find me online at www.roxierivera.com.

  JUMP TO...

  Copper King by Vivian Arend

  Marked by Temptation by Deanna Chase

  Rumpel's Prize by Marie Hall

  Tank by M. Malone

  Shattered Web by Crista McHugh

  Caged Wolf by SM Reine

  Collateral by Roxie Rivera

  Beyond Solitude by Kit Rocha

  Blue Roses by Mimi Strong

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Beyond Solitude

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  More From Kit Rocha

  BEYOND SOLITUDE

  Venture into the dark corners of Sector Four in BEYOND SOLITUDE, a novella by Kit Rocha. When a motorcycle accident leaves Derek Ford riding a desk at the O'Kane compound, the last thing he needs is a sexy new assistant upending his office and his life. But Mia isn't scared of her domineering boss. The friction between them generates an undeniable heat—but Mia will not be kept, and Ford will do anything to protect what’s his.

  Author's Note: Beyond Solitude takes place at the same time as Beyond Jealousy, but stands on its own.

  CHAPTER ONE

  One more drink, and he’d call it a night.

  Derek Ford watched the stage intently, cataloging every arch and moan, every flash of bare flesh washed pale by the harsh lights. Shows at the Broken Circle weren’t just skin on display, bored dancers humping a pole and counting down the hours until closing. They were real, in-your-face revelries of lust.

  And fuck, they were hot. The naked blonde on stage could brew a mean beer, rebuild a carburetor in twenty minutes, and finger her pussy on stage like it was the most fun anyone in the whole goddamn world had ever had. If Ford could manage to remember her name, he might have loved her.

  Maybe.

  The blonde sucked in a breath and released it on a sharp, shuddering moan, and the crowd lost its collective mind. Cheers erupted and bottles clinked, a perfect representation of Sector Four—packed to the seams with sex and booze, just the way the O’Kanes liked it.

  By his own choice, Ford had always existed on the fringes of Dallas O’Kane’s gang. He was all in, working his ass off to help secure the group’s financial interests. But when it came time to knock off and play, he shied away from some of the more carnal pleasures shared by the other O’Kanes. It wasn’t his style.

  The blonde rolled to her knees on stage, drawing his attention to the luscious curve of her ass. He shifted in his chair to relieve the pressure caused by the sudden surge of desire—and almost groaned aloud when the ache in his right leg blossomed into fiery pain. It was an immediate and sobering reminder that any and all offers to warm his bed these days were made out of pity, not passion.

  Some fucking hero he was.

  The redheaded bartender with the mouthwatering rack stopped by his table, her hand lingering over his nearly empty glass. “You want a bottle for the road, Ford?”

  Shit, he didn’t remember her name, either. It left him casting about for an endearment to cover his forgetfulness. “Yeah, sugar. That’d be real nice.”

  “You got it.”

  He followed her to the bar, his stride carefully measured to cover his lingering limp. Doc had assured him he was getting better, that all it took was time and care, but fuck if he could tell the difference sometimes.

  Especially when he was tired. He accepted the bottle with thanks and made his way out the door at the back of the room. Through the backstage area, straight to his own personal fucking hell—the steep, narrow stairs leading up to his apartment.

  Ford stood at the bottom for a moment, then gritted his teeth as he started walking up. Slow, precise, his right hand clenched around the railing. He clutched the bottle in his left, and halfway up the flight of stairs, he almost lost his grip on some of the best O’Kane whiskey to be found, all because his palms were growing slick and damp with the sweat of exertion.

  He heard the sounds before he reached the top, footsteps in his office followed by the clatter of filing cabinets. Someone bit off a curse, a low but feminine sound that made his stomach clench.

  Ford swiped his arm across his forehead and flung open the door. A woman stood there, dressed in faded jeans and a halter-top that left a few miles of smooth brown skin bare. Also bare were her wrists, devoid of the tattoos that would have marked her as an O’Kane.

  A stranger. She was pretty, built, infinitely fuckable—but she was standing in his home uninvited, and that meant she had to go. “Get out,” he growled.

  She started at the sound of his voice, clutching a file folder of reports to her chest as she spun around. She tensed, her big brown eyes fixing on his for just a moment before sweeping down to his wrists and his tattoos. “Oh,” she breathed out. “Are you Ford?”

  “Depends on who wants to know.”

  “Your new assistant.” She shuffled the papers to one arm and held out a hand, as damn chipper as if he wasn’t standing there glaring at her. “Well, Lex gave me the job, but she said I’d mostly be working with you.”

  He ignored her proffered hand. “I don’t have an assistant. Don’t need one.”

  “No, you have filing cabinets.” She frowned and tilted her head. “File cabinets? Honestly, I don’t know what they’re called or where Dallas O’Kane found them. It’s barbaric.”

  Wonderful. Not only had she invaded his personal space, but now she was insulting his organizational skills. “You’re a long way from Eden’s fancy computers, buttercup. Around here, we make do, even if it involves barbaric pieces of paper for record-keeping.”

  She braced her free hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the most infamous bootlegger in all eight sectors can’t afford a little tech. And I’m not from Eden.”

  No, not with that hint of fire in her eyes. It reached past the throbbing ache in his leg to reignite his banked libido, and he found himself staring at her mouth, waiting for her to lick her lips so he could catch another glimpse of her quick pink tongue.


  Ford groaned. The smartest thing would be to scare her off, but she didn’t look easily cowed. “I’ll pay you to leave,” he offered. “How’s that?”

  Now both of her eyebrows were up. “I don’t need a score. I need a job. If you don’t want me to mess with your files, fine—”

  “Okay. Don’t mess with my files.”

  She didn’t falter, didn’t even blink. “Then tell me what to do instead.”

  If I were an asshole... He waved the bottle of whiskey at her. “You could start by letting me drink half of this and jerk off so I can get some sleep.”

  That snapped her teeth together—for about five seconds. “If you’re self-conscious about doing that with me in the next room, I could take some work home.”

  “Self-conscious?” He dropped the bottle on his desk and unbuckled his belt. “I’ll lay it out right here, buttercup, if you like to watch.”

  Her gaze flicked to his hands, and he got that flash of tongue he’d been waiting for as she wet her lips. “I wouldn’t be watching. I’d be working.”

  Filing papers like there was nothing more interesting going on? Fuck that. “Bullshit.” Ford tugged open the top button on his jeans. “It may be a little battered these days, like the rest of me, but my ego’s not dead. If I start stroking my dick right in front of you, you’re damn sure gonna be paying attention. Not just watching—riveted.”

  The folder in her hands bent under the force of her grip. Not fear though, and that flush in her cheeks wasn’t shyness, either. There was too much awareness in her eyes, like she was imagining his cock and how it would look with his hand wrapped around it.

  Or maybe her hand.

  She pivoted abruptly and dumped the crumpled files on his desk. “Life’s funny sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “Goddamn hilarious.” He left his belt hanging open, left that one lone button undone, and reached for the whiskey. “What’s your name?”