The Biker's Kiss : A Royal Bastards MC Holiday Novella

by Glenna Maynard

  Glenna

  Preview of Lady & The Biker

  Chapter 1

  Easton

  Rolling up behind Murder outside of the rundown two-story home a bad feeling passes over me. The older man kills his bike and motions for me to do the same. Fuck. He said he had to make a quick stop. Walking up on the porch of the two-story with white outdated siding, this doesn’t feel fast to me. I scrub a hand over my face and make note of the boards nailed over the window and the bag of garbage that the cats or a dog has scattered across the front lawn.

  Prez knocks twice. The patter of footsteps sounds and the dingy white door creaks open. He pushes it wider and enters. I follow behind him, and he squats to talk to a little girl who is sitting on the floor in front of a Tv watching cartoons. She’s a tiny thing with hair so light it’s almost white. “What’d I tell you about opening the door without asking who it is first?”

  The kid sniffles and wipes her hand across her nose. “Sorry,” her angelic voice says in a low tone.

  “Where’s your mom? I picked up your prescription.” Murder pats her on the head. He turns to me and hands me the white and blue bag from the pharmacy. “Give this to the kid,” he gruffly orders me and stomps up the stairs.

  “You sick or something?” Her warm brown eyes widen as she takes me in. I don’t get a reply. Ripping the bag open I pull out a bottle of pink liquid. “What’s your name, Lil’ Lady?”

  “Wylla Mae,” she tells me with a sniffle then coughs.

  I measure out the dosage and hand the plastic cup to her. “Drink it all down.” I glance at the bottle and it says it needs refrigerated. The kid follows me to the kitchen. When I open the fridge door up and see that it’s bare inside, I go tense. Not even a package of bologna. Anger courses through me. No way for a kid to be living. Shit like this burns me up. I may not be much but I’m not heartless. I look around the kitchen. The dishes are stacked by the sink and covered in flies. My stomach coils at the sight and the smell of the rotten food overflowing from the garbage can and onto the floor. Murder stomps back down the stairs with a hot pink backpack. Clothes and a stuffed bear are hanging out as he attempts to zip it shut.

  “Put a jacket on her and take her to the clubhouse. I’ll be there when I can.”

  Christ on a cracker. I scrub a hand through my dark hair, and he hands me the backpack. “I’m no damn babysitter. I’ve got plans. It’s Friday night.”

  “Don’t give a fuck what you have planned. Make sure she gets her meds and get her something to eat. I’m counting on you.”

  “Who is this kid?”

  “I’ll explain later. Just fucking do what you’re told, East.”

  “Fine.” I accept the backpack and take the medicine back out of the fridge and shove it in the side pocket.

  Murder looks at Wylla Mae. “Listen, Cupcake. My brother here is gonna take you for a ride on his motorcycle. His name is East. You be a good girl and I’ll bring you some ice cream later once I get your mom to see the doctor. Okay?” He pats her head and she nods as a tear trickles down her cheek.

  Shit. Double shit. I know nothing good will come of this. I don’t know who this kid is, but I can’t go against my Prez. He better not have me in some shit with a custody issue or some shit. Last thing I need is to be called in for kidnapping this little girl.

  Murder stomps back up the stairs. Halfway up he turns back to me. “Get her out of here now,” he growls.

  I shoot him a chin lift.

  “All right, Lil’ Lady. You got a jacket somewhere?”

  She goes to the closet by the front door and tugs out a winter coat. It’s black and has a gold princess crown embroidered with her name. She gets her coat on and puts some black furry boots on. Maybe her mom fell on hard times because her clothes are in good shape and name brand. I shouldn’t judge so harshly but the empty fridge and dirty dishes pisses me off.

  “You have anything else you need?”

  “No,” she whispers and coughs.

  “Zip that jacket up.”

  She struggles and I end up placing the backpack on the couch and dropping to my knees to do it for her. The tip of her nose is red and crusted with dried snot. I want to wipe her face off, but I can hear Murder upstairs and know he’ll have my ass if I don’t get her out of here. “There. Let’s go.” I hand her the backpack and she loops her fingers around the straps dragging it behind her.

  Outside, I shove the straps of the backpack over her shoulders. Lifting her up I plop her down on the seat of my bike. “Listen, I’ll drive slow. You don’t need to be scared. My helmet is too big for you, so you’ll ride without one. Keep your feet on these pegs.” I tap her leg and point. She nods. “When I get on, put your arms around my waist, head on my back. Don’t lean or move. Don’t panic. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I get on and she curls her fingers in the belt loops of my jeans holding on tight. The sound of my Harley roars into the night.

  The moment I roll up to the Devil’s Playground, our clubhouse, I know bringing the kid here is a bad idea. A party is in full swing. I shut off my bike and once she lets go of my pants swing my leg over. I ruffle my fingers through her pale hair. “See nothing to it. You’re a natural.” I grip her waist and pluck her off the seat, planting her feet on the ground. “Keep your head down and stick to my side. Don’t look at what’s happening inside just keep walking until I tell you it’s okay.”

  I trudge toward the entrance, the music growing louder. Fuck. This is no place for an angel. No place at all. Fucking Murder. What the hell was he thinking tasking me with brat duty? This is some shit one of his muffler bunnies should be handling. What the hell am I supposed to do with her?

  Here we fucking go. I push the door open, loud rock filtering through and blasting me right in the damn face along with a cloud of smoke. I scan the room and the festivities haven’t started. I check my watch. The night is still young.

  “Hey handsome,” Mariah purrs, licking her lips and rubbing up on my right side, her fake tits spilling out of her neon green tube top. I’m in no mood for her and the bullshit she brings with her. Woman is nothing but pure drama. Catty and clingy as hell. Two things I don’t want or need.

  I push her off. “Not now.”

  “Shit.” She notices my shadow. “Didn’t know you had a kid, East.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Wait you aren’t into some sick shit, are you?”

  My brow furrows and I ball my fist. “Fuck you for even saying some shit like that, you fuckin’ dumb cunt.” I shove past her and go to the bar and stick Wylla Mae on a stool. “Get her a Sprite,” I yell over the noise to Slater.

  He gives me a chin lift, grabs a can from the cooler, and slides it down the bar. I pop the tab. “Don’t drink nothing or eat a damn thing unless I give it to you directly. No one here would hurt you but shit happens, and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Understood?”

  Her doe eyes gaze up at me. She doesn’t say anything but takes the pop and chugs.

  “You hungry?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Come on. Let’s see what we can find in the kitchen.” She slides down the stool and curls into my side where I keep her pressed until we get there. It’s only a matter of time before shit starts to get wild around here. The kitchen door swings open and Pam stands on the other side.

  “What are you up to?” She raises her arms over her head, securing her dark curly hair in a ponytail.

  “This is Wylla Mae, my charge for the evening. Whatchu’ got good, fast, and hot?”

  “I’d tell you but it’s not appropriate for small ears.” Her laughter rings out.

  I shake my head. I walked straight into that one.

  “Stick this in the fridge will ya.” I dig the medicine out and toss the bottle her way.

  “Aw, sweetie, are you sick?”

  Wylla Mae sniffles and wipes at her nose reminding me that I need to wash that face. While Pam gets the medicine in the fridge and questions the kid about what she
wants to eat I grab some paper towels and wet them.

  “C’mere, Lil’ Lady.” I grip the back of her head with one hand and use my other to clean her face. She scrunches her nose and squirms. “There. Good as new.” I turn toward Pam and toss the paper towels in the trash. “You busy tonight?”

  Her finger wags in my face. “Oh no, you aren’t putting your job off on me. It’s Friday night.”

  “Come on. You know I don’t know shit about taking care of a sick kid.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Feed her. Give her water and the pink stuff as directed.” She smirks.

  “I’ll owe you one.”

  “Hmm. You’ll owe me more than one.”

  “I wanna stay with you, East,” Wylla Mae shouts and barrels into my side, surprising the fuck outta me.

  “You heard the lady.” Pam winks at her and slides a grilled cheese sandwich onto a paper plate. “See you later, daddy.” She cackles going out the door, leaving me on my own with Wylla Mae.

  I cap the back of my neck and look down at Wylla Mae. “How old are you anyway, kid?”

  “Eight and a half.”

  “Christ. You look six.”

  “Do not,” she sasses then wheezes out a cough and kicks me in the shin.

  “Ow shit. What’d you do that for?”

  “Momma says you shouldn’t say bad words. Now you owe me a quarter.”

  “I didn’t. Never mind. You don’t go around kicking people. Get your food,” I growl at her.

  Her bottom lip trembles but she doesn’t shed any tears. Those doe eyes hold me captive, and I feel like a jerk. Wylla Mae is sick and with strangers. Who knows what happened with her mom or when Murder will come to collect her? I can see it in her gaze. Fear. Sadness. But there is something else there. A glimmer of hope. My heart constricts in my chest.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but you don’t kick me.”

  “Okay.”

  “All right. I’m gonna take you upstairs to a room where you can watch Tv or whatever.”

  “Okay.” Her hand shakes as she grabs the paper plate.

  “Christ. Let me have it.” I take it from her before she drops it, and she grabs my free hand wrapping her clammy fingers around mine, squeezing tight.

  **

  Upstairs, I pace the small room. I crash here sometimes when I’ve had too much to drink or simply don’t want to make the ride home. It’s not much but serves me when I need to scratch an itch or pass out. The space fits a full-sized bed, couch, small table, and a flat screen mounted on the wall over the dresser. Like I said it isn’t much.

  Wylla Mae is sprawled out on my bed hugging her teddy bear. I turn on some channel that only shows classic cartoons. She seems content and hasn’t even bothered to ask about her mother once. Not that I would have an answer for her. Hell, I don’t even know who her mom is.

  “Hey.” I grab the remote control and press the button to turn the volume down on her show. “What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Alexa.”

  “You got a dad?” Her head moves side to side. “An aunt, uncle, cousin, grandma?” There’s gotta be someone else who can take her in until whatever is going on with her mom is settled.

  “Just my mom.”

  Great. Of course. “Okay.” I increase the volume on the Tv. I need a damn smoke. My head feels split in two. I go over to the window and crack it then dig through the top drawer of the dresser for my emergency cigarettes stash. Bingo. At least one thing has gone my way tonight. Back at the window I light up my Marlboro and take a hard drag. Tobacco pulls through my lungs in a familiar burn that I’ve grown addicted to feeling.

  “You shouldn’t be smoking in here.” Wylla Mae glares at me up on her knees in the center of the bed, lips jutted out and a hand on her hip. She looks ready to pop off like a little firecracker. Little sassy assed brat is what she is. She looks like an angel till she opens that mouth. Kid was shy at first but now she won’t shut the hell up.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because it’s bad for you. You could get cancer and die or worse.”

  “What’s worse than death?”

  “You’re exposing me to secondhand smoke and I’m just a kid.”

  I chuckle, blowing my smoke out the window.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Are too,” she sasses.

  God this kid and her mouth. I pity the poor soul who marries her one day.

  About Glenna

  Glenna Maynard is a USA TODAY & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author most known for her gritty Black Rebel Riders' MC saga.

  She has a passion for writing antiheroes but occasionally takes a walk on the sweeter side. Bikers, Rockstars, the boy next door, Glenna writes them all.

  When she isn't arguing with the voices in her head or drinking reader tears, she enjoys watching classic TV shows with her two children and longtime leading man. Her favorite books to read change with her mood, but she always enjoys a good historical romance.

  Visit https://www.glennamaynard.com for more information.

  Available Now

  Black Rebel Riders’ MC

  Grim The Beginning

  Rumor

  Baby

  Striker

  Romeo

  Heart of A Rebel

  A Rebel Love

  A Rebel In The Roses

  Blood of A Rebel

  The Devil’s Rebel

  Devils Rejects MC

  Hades’ Flame

  Boogeyman’s Dream

  Reaper’s Till Death

  Cupid’s Arrow

  Uno’s Truth

  Cocky’s Fight

  Black Rebel Devils MC

  Moonshine & Mistletoe

  Guns & Roses

  Sex & Cigarettes

  BRRMC Roadhouse Tales

  Devil Dick

  Pecker Wrecker

  Cock Blocker

  Sassy Pants

  Sons Of Destruction

  Dark Paradise: The Apocalypse

  Paradise Lost: Wasteland

  Paradise Found: Resurrection

  The Cruel Love Series

  Cruel Love Book 1

  Cruel Love Book 2

  Cruel Love Book 3

  Royal Bastards MC

  The Biker’s Kiss

  Lady & The Biker

  Stand Alone Titles

  Beauty & The Biker

  Snow White & The Biker

  Born Sinner

  Lil’ Red & The Big Bad Biker

  Making Her Mine

  Dirty Love

  Dirty Truth

  Don’t Let Me Go

  Stone Deception

  Jameson’s Addiction

  My Best Friend’s Girl

  Calder & Maggie

  Falling For The Bad Boy

  Cowritten with Dawn Martens

  You Wreck Me (Prospects)

  You Break Me (Prospects)

  You Kill Me (Prospects)

  Sacking The Player