Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
A Totally Bound Publication
Along Came Merrie
ISBN # 978-1-78430-342-6
©Copyright Beth D. Carter 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2014
Edited by Faith Bicknell-Brown
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.
Red Wolves Motorcycle Club
ALONG CAME MERRIE
Beth D. Carter
Book one in the Red Wolves Motorcycle Club series
Merrie stumbles into a bad situation, forcing an outlaw motorcycle gang to ‘deal’ with her, but her escape leads her into the arms of two incredible men who change her life forever.
Merrie Walden is in the wrong place at the wrong time. When she sees something she shouldn’t, she’s attacked by a vicious outlaw biker bent on shutting her up—permanently. She escapes him by jumping out of a moving car. Luckily, horse rancher Braden McClintock finds her and takes her for medical attention to his adopted brother, Leo Cloud Dancer.
As she heals in the men’s home, Merrie realizes that she’s falling for both men. Braden is taciturn, while Leo is outgoing—both reaching a deep-seated need in Merrie that she never knew she had.
However, the outlaw biker has discovered her hideout and even if she doesn’t know what she witnessed, he sure as hell does—and he wants her silenced. Will Merrie have a chance to have a happily ever after with Braden and Leo?
Dedication
There are many people I have to acknowledge and thank, because no writer is an island. Sure, we think up the words and the plot then bring it all together, but I couldn’t do half of that without some amazing people. This book has gone through a journey and the first person I must start with is my BFF, Lark. She’s my go-to gal to let me know if something sucks, and thankfully, she told me this one didn’t.
Also to Ashlynn Monroe, who is not only an amazing author but an awesome cheerleader. I’m very lucky to call you a friend. Thank you!
A HUGE thank you to Shannon Vasquez, who took the time to read all four Red Wolves novels to let me know if they all made sense. Shannon, you will never know how much that meant to me.
To C.R. Moss, who taught me a lot on editing techniques…now if only I had a tenth of her talent.
And finally, my deepest appreciation to Totally Bound for saying yes. Faith, you have infinite amounts of patience…you rock.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band Aid: Johnson & Johnson
Wal-Mart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.
Bungee cords: The Original Bungee Company
Leatherman: Leatherman Tool Group, Inc.
Prologue
Gray Dog eyed the yuppie man, who stepped gingerly into his domain—neatly trimmed hair, boring tie. The expensive cologne that cut through the stench of cigarettes and stale beer belied the cheap suit. Gray Dog might prefer leather and chains, but he knew an off-the-rack suit when he saw one.
He had to give the guy credit. Walking into a biker bar took a lot of guts. The Demon Devils had a reputation—and it wasn’t a good one. As he watched the man walk the gauntlet between bikers, Gray Dog grabbed a beer from the cooler and popped the top.
“Have a seat,” he said. Most of the time, a prospect tended the bar, but when his arthritis wasn’t acting up, he liked to play bartender. He held up the bottle. “Beer?”
“No, thank you,” the man said as he sat on a stool.
Gray Dog shrugged and took a long drink. He downed half of it, burped then wiped the moisture off his mustache and beard.
The man took a thick envelope out of his inner suit pocket and laid it down on the countertop. “I’ve scraped up the money to buy a partnership into your organization.”
Gray Dog chuckled. “Organization? I like that. Unfortunately for you, I don’t need a partner.” He tapped the envelope. “This simply buys you into my distribution.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be the one providing you the girls.”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Gray Dog said, his words cold and precise. “Your ability to get us merchandise would be valuable, but I don’t need you. I have the perfect place to get all the girls I need.”
“Us?”
Gray Dog waved his hand. “You’ll learn, bit by bit.”
The man pursed his lips. “All right. Just so that we’re clear—any girl I find and you sell, I get a percentage. Correct?”
“There’s a little more to it than that, of course. The girls have to be loners—no family, no friends. No one to come looking. They can’t see your face. They must be sedated until they reach their destination—and the Master has final approval.”
“The Master?”
Gray Dog shrugged. “Just don’t call him narcissistic to his face.”
“Whatever. I simply want the money. I don’t really care what you call one other.”
Tilting the half-full bottle in salute, Gray Dog replied, “Then we have an agreement. You toe the line then everything is kosher. You fuck up one time, I’ll kill you myself. Clear?”
Gray Dog held out his hand. The man’s gaze flicked down at it. Gray Dog sensed the man thinking that he may have made a deal with Satan incarnate.
“Crystal,” the man said and accepted the handshake.
Chapter One
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.
* * * *
Awareness slowly crept back to Merrie. She snapped her eyes open and found herself in the back seat of her car and with her hands tied in front of her. Pain pulsed through the left side of her face but she bit back a sob. Although she didn’t know how long she’d been out of it, she was still alive.
She tried to see who was driving, but could only make out the driver wasn’t Axe. The person had long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a tattoo of a snake on his arm that wrapped from the wrist up into the sleeve of his white T-shirt. Trying to be as sneaky as possible, she began moving her hands about, testing the bonds tying them together. Whoever had bound her hadn’t done a very effective job, probably because they expected her to stay unconscious. The rope was loose and she wiggled her wrists even more, pulling as hard as she could without alerting the driver to her movements. A stinging burn chaffed the skin but she didn’t care. If she couldn’t get free then she was dead, so she strained and tugged carefully a
nd moments later, she’d freed one hand. A sense of elation jolted through her, pumping up her already high level of adrenaline.
She only had one shot at escaping and she knew it was going to hurt like hell when she fell out of the car. Part of her wanted to stay put and try to reason with the men again, but the common sense part of her said that if she stayed there, she would die. Why they wanted her dead she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. No one knew where she was and she had no one to rely on either.
By the sound of the car and the way it rolled along, she estimated they were traveling about sixty miles per hour. She couldn’t think about the impact of asphalt against her skin at that speed, because something would most likely break.
It was better than the alternative—death.
In her mind, she ran through the plan. She hooked her foot under the door latch. She’d flip it up, the door would open then she would roll head first out of the car, taking the brunt of the impact to her shoulder.
Merrie took a deep breath and mentally counted, psyching herself up. She could do this. She could do this!
One…two…three…
It happened just as she’d imagined it would. The door flew open and she crunched her tummy as she forced herself upward enough to sail out of the back seat. She dimly heard the driver curse as she experienced the sensation of freefalling. Down she fell, but instead of asphalt tearing her up, she landed on compact ground and tumbled through tall weeds. Momentum accelerated her along the steep hill. She couldn’t stop herself and tried her damnedest to keep her arms tucked against her sides, but it was almost impossible as instinct made her want to use her arms to slow her wild descent, even as gravity propelled her down the embankment. Her right wrist snapped and unimaginable pain forced a scream from her throat. Just as she thought she’d never stop tumbling, she started sliding in the dirt then finally came to a halt as the ground leveled out. She’d reached the bottom.
Along Came Merrie Page 1