Playing With Monsters

by Layla Wolfe

  He gave “the nod” to Slushy as the lawyer emerged from the rock shop. It had been agreed that Slushy should not be involved in the confrontation. He wasn’t a patch holder, and he was too valuable to risk. He would hang out a block away with his little pea-shooter. Slushy had already done enough. Slushy just wanted to be present while his daughter’s abductor was taken down.

  Roman followed Wolf up a few streets. The mullet-headed guy didn’t even look behind him, that’s how stupid he was. There was a piece stuck in the back of his jeans, and Roman knew the guy wouldn’t hesitate to use it. But for some strange reason, Roman wasn’t afraid. His whole life has been leading up to this. He’d been born to save Gudrun. Everything had come into sharp focus now.

  Then the colossal asswad actually yelled up at a window. Roman couldn’t fucking believe it. Wolf Glaser, standing on a different street corner, even shook his head in disbelief. Roman ran his fingers through his hair and realized they were shaking.

  The mullet head shouted through a cupped hand, “Alcatraz! It’s done! Do you want me to come up?”

  The window curtain was shoved aside, and there he was again. It looked like he had a scarf around his neck from where Roman had shot him. It also looked like blood ran down over his chin. This made Roman glad. His fingers tightened around the trigger of the Glock stuck in the back of his jeans. He could easily shoot this moron in the window from this distance of sixty yards. Roman was a crack shot. His groupings at the gun range were all within the X ring, so he could easily pop off this jerk from this distance.

  He didn’t want to, though. It had been agreed they needed to secure Gudrun’s safety first, so while Riker was yelling at the mullet head, Roman snuck around the side of the house.

  As he walked by a gathering of garbage cans overflowing with trash, Roman thought he heard Riker shriek, “Dumbass! Do you want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you? Come to the back fucking door!”

  There was no real “neighborhood” around there. They were in the middle of nowhere, with only a few dilapidated Victorian homes with dead lawns, sagebrush, and random bottles of Night Train and Thunderbird chucked around the yard. It wasn’t like anyone worth a shit was about to hear them, so Roman continued through the side yard.

  The mullet head jogged up behind Roman at the same time Riker opened the back door. Roman’s jiu-jitsu skills went off like precision when he backhanded the redneck without missing a beat.

  “Hey Riker, what the—”

  Bam. The guy was slammed back against a trash can, splayed like a seagull against the background of Doritos wrappers and Dominos boxes.

  Roman didn’t have time to worry about the fucktard. Riker had already whipped the door open, looking around for a dog poo bag full of cash. Roman jammed the barrel of his Glock directly into Riker’s mouth. The guy was so taken aback, with his meth-riddled teeth, eyeballs like bowling balls, he hadn’t even had time to draw his own gun. Roman’s free hand was full of his stupid cut, some Sears thing that didn’t have a worthwhile patch of any known MC. Thank fucking God.

  Roman growled. “This is a good day to die, motherfucker.”

  He thought Riker started to say something like, “Who the fuck are you?” But the barrel was already jammed so far into Riker’s mouth, Roman hit his jaw with the trigger guard.

  He released the dead body. Riker collapsed like the rotten tree that he was, a stupid expression of surprise still in his dead eyes. Weird thing was, he had a silver straw sticking out of one nostril. Smatterings of meth were sprayed around his face. The feeling of satisfaction mixed with grief washed over Roman. He was glad that he’d killed Riker.

  Gudrun stood behind the dead body. Roman had to kick Riker aside to get to her. He still had to make a giant leap to reach her. She felt like a tiny bag of bird bones in his arms. He swept her away to the side of the house to be away from the line of fire, and the dead body. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought some blood might’ve splattered Gudrun’s bare legs.

  “My love,” he murmured against her mouth. “You’re never going to be hurt again.”

  “I know,” she said with certainty.

  “What’re we going to do with this guy?”

  Roman looked over. Wolf had apparently zip-tied the mullet head’s hands behind his back. He was dragging him by the collar of his jean jacket, and the guy had an onion ring dangling from his ear.

  “You got Slushy’s money?” Roman asked.

  “Yeah. It’s behind the trash can.”

  “It better al be here, assholes.” Slushy’s receding hairline appeared around the corner of the house. At first he seemed panic-stricken about the dog poo bag full of Benjamins that he gripped in his hand. But when he saw Roman holding his daughter, he released the blue plastic bag and raced for Gudrun with outspread arms.

  Roman backed off and let Slushy hug her. We picked up the bag of cash and wandered over to Wolf. Wolf pointed at the dead guy.

  “Looks like he was already dead of a brain hemorrhage what with that silver straw up his nose.”

  “Yeah,” said Roman, impressed that Wolf would know that. “What a fucking monster. I’ve been around a lot of crazed, drug-addled people in my rock star career. But this guy is the fucking apex, man.”

  “The apex,” Wolf echoed, because it sounded cool.

  Slushy turned toward the men. “Let’s get out of here and report back.”

  “Let me get this,” said Roman, using his bowie knife to cut loose Gudrun’s bonds.

  “What’re we going to do about this scumbag?” asked Wolf. He probably wasn’t used to dead people.

  “Leave him here,” Roman and Slushy said almost at the same time.

  Roman added, “No one’s going to miss him.” He looked at Gudrun. “I’m carrying you.”

  And so he did.

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  About The Author

  Layla Wolfe lives in coastal California with a leather jacket, one bad-ass pink camo compound bow, and a vicarious outlaw lifestyle.

  Layla Wolfe is the pen name of multi-published erotic romance author Karen Mercury.

  Visit her at:

  www.laylawolfe.com

  www.facebook.com/laylawolfeauthor

  More Books from Layla Wolfe

  The Bare Bones

  http://amzn.to/1mYMr22

  Book #1 in The Bare Bones MC series

  If you ain’t living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.

  The rose-colored illusion of Madison Shellmound’s girlish crush on biker Ford Illuminati is stomped into smithereens by his crude father Cropper, Bare Bones motorcycle club President. Fearing Ford will kill Cropper if he finds out, Madison flees, becoming an upstanding cardiology nurse.

  Madison and Ford have an ill-fated, star-crossed love that will last their lifetimes. Ford is a lifer in a different sort of enterprise, the gritty full-throttle club of guns, blood, and allegiance to his brothers. Twelve years and several tours of SEAL duty later, Ford is thrust back into Madison’s arms on the worst day of his life. Madison’s prospect brother Speed has screwed up big-time and owes the club his life. She offers herself to Cropper as a sacrificial lamb to save Speed.

  But how long until the fiery, full-on outlaw Ford discovers that the woman he loves was treated like a degraded slave by his own father? Well, meet the new boss. He’s not the same as the old boss.

  Publisher’s Note: This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Readers will encounter molestation, drugging, consensual bondage and discipline, violence, and a HEA. It’s a full-length novel of 65,000 words. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  Stay Vertical

  www.amazon.com/dp/B00KKTMGR6

  Book #2 in The Bare Bones MC series

  Publisher’s Note: This is Book #2 in the Bare Bones MC series. This book is a stand-alone and can be read out of order. However, it is advised to read THE BARE BONES first
to get a complete picture of the club’s background, storylines, and setting. This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Daring readers will encounter sexual assault, violence against women, general violence among men, consensual BDSM, and a HEA. It is not for the faint of heart. It’s a full length novel of 65,000 words with no cliffhanger. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  One two three four five six seven. All good sinners go to heaven. Peace Corps volunteer June Shellmound returns to Arizona to care for her dying mother. At the clubhouse of The Bare Bones motorcycle club, June is swept into the drama when half-breed Lytton Driving Hawk barges in and demands recognition as president Ford Illuminati’s half-brother.

  Hot enough to melt steel, Lytton has forged a life apart from the reservation as a brilliant chemist, living the high times at his pot farm in the mountains. Lytton is no fortunate son, though, and the mortal secrets Ford’s been hiding about their father drive the last nail into their brotherly coffin.

  Lytton turns his back on the Bare Bones and sweet bleeding heart June. Blinded by vengeance, Lytton becomes ruled by his own demons, raising hell alongside Ford’s mortal enemies, The Cutlasses. Alliances are torn apart within the club, loyalties are divided, and everyone’s true spirits are tested. When the dust clears, Lytton and June find themselves running for their lives just to…STAY VERTICAL

  Bad To The Bones

  www.amazon.com/dp/B00O2IRLB2

  Book #3 in The Bare Bones MC series

  Publisher’s Note: This is Book #3 in the Bare Bones MC series. This book is a stand-alone and can be read out of order. This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Daring readers will encounter sexual assault, dubious consent, general violence among men, and a HEA. It is not for the faint of heart. It’s a full length novel of 73,000 words with no cliffhanger. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  Knoxie Hammett has been The Bare Bones’ tattoo artist for years. He’s just drifted through life, living it large and performing in their Triple Exposure films, recovering from a divorce he never wanted. Suddenly Knoxie has a reason to live and to want to prospect for The Bare Bones outlaw motorcycle club.

  He’ll need their help to rescue the lovely Bellamy Jager from the jaws of the cutthroat, warped cult leader who has been holding her hostage all her adult life. To the neglected, abused Bellamy, living in the desert canyons off stolen food and time, the sanctity of the ashram looked like a safe zone. But her haven turned to hell and she was drugged and abused, ignorant of any other way of life.

  Knoxie will need every one of his Bare Bones brothers and every ounce of bravery he can muster. To save Bellamy and her white slave sister from the twisted swami, he’ll need to pull off the most daring job of his life to prove to the club and the world that he’s…BAD TO THE BONES. Don’t ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.

  A Dangerous Reality

  The Bent Zealots MC Book 1

  www.amazon.com/dp/B00S4BZHZU

  Keep your lovers close—and your enemies in bed.

  TURK. My club sent me to track him down. And when my mission was over, I never wanted another one again. When I found him, I kicked the crap out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms.

  I’ve never regretted it for an instant. It’s been the ride of my life. But loving another man in the MC world is a risky business. As if our business isn’t already brutal and ruthless enough, Lock’s homophobic sergeant-at-arms Stumpy gets an eyeful of our lovemaking and blackmails us into doing some of his dirty work, or be exposed for what we are—a couple of deviants. This run into the Indian reservation is sleazy and beneath us, but now I’m cornered, and I’ll do anything to keep my sweet Master from being lynched by his club.

  LOCK. When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand.

  I can hear my destiny calling me. Either I’ll slink back to my club like a hetero bounty hunter with no morals—and no respect from anyone in my own backyard—or I’ll step up to the plate and be the lion of the day. Either way, my lover and I are screwed. Our clubs are going to hound us underground or into another country before we escape this mess—if we don’t die trying.

  “Living off the grid and being an outlaw brings a dangerous reality.” –Ron Perlman

  Publisher’s warning: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of gay sex, consensual BDSM, illegal doings, dubious consent, and man-on-man violence. There is no cheating and a HEA.

  A Gorgeous Mess

  The Bent Zealots MC Book 2

  www.amazon.com/dp/B00U0WHQOQ

  Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.

  ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs.

  My partner is the famous badge slut, Ormond Tangier, known far and wide for his mad oral skills, his subservience to anyone in uniform. Mercenaries don’t wear badges, but my dominant side soon has me all over that seductive Spanish servant. A man may as well have a few laughs while on a fatal mission. Because these things never end pleasantly.

  ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard.

  I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen.

  ANSON: I swear I’m never falling for that service bottom Ormond. I’m accomplishing this op and going back to Afghanistan. But I have to wrest control of this Rez land from Iceman and the lethal hit man who has been trailing us. I’d bury anyone who got between me and Ormond. Does that mean I’m in love? God, I hope not. Don’t think I can take that again. Just need to get back onto the open road and blow the dust from my soul.

  Publisher’s warning: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of gay sex, illegal doings, violence, mild BDSM, and forced seduction roleplay. There is no cliffhanger or cheating and there is a HEA.

  Questions? Comments?

  Email suggestions to

  laylawolfeauthor@gmail.com