Killian
Heartlands Motorcycle Club
Olivia T. Turner
Copyright© 2020 by Olivia T. Turner.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Edited by Karen Collins Editing
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Contents
Copyright
Killian
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Epilogue
Epilogue
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Killian
Blurb
There’s no one more off-limits to me and the Heartlands crew than the Sheriff’s daughter.
But once I see her, I know there’s nothing I won’t do to make her mine.
And I know there’s nothing the Sheriff won’t do to stop me.
Everyone has always seen me as an outlaw.
A criminal. A thief.
But she doesn’t.
She sees the big heart under my tough exterior.
She sees the man I could be.
I want to be that man for her, but it’s hard when the beasts of my past come knocking.
When blood debts need to be paid.
And when her father wants my head on a pike for touching his princess.
Hopefully, love is stronger than bullets…
Because I’m going to have a lot of them headed my way.
The alpha males of Heartlands Motorcycle Club are the most possessive, devoted, and territorial men in the country when it comes to the ones they love.
Heartlands is a rough and rugged new series of standalone stories. Written by four of the most trusted names in short and steamy romance, each book will get your motors revved and your hearts racing. Guaranteed.
XO, Frankie, Dani, Olivia, and Hope
To Brandon.
You always got my engine revving when I saw you on that bike.
Why did you have to go and open your mouth and ruin it?
Chapter One
Killian
The music is loud and shitty, but this place still feels like home. The manager, Ranger, always insists on playing 70’s rock in the Ride or Die bar and he almost broke my hand a few years ago when I tried to change it.
“Your dad’s here,” Walker says as he downs his shot and then motions toward the door with his eyes.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath as I squeeze the beer bottle in my hand. Just what I fucking need right now.
I slowly turn and watch as my dad walks in with Gage. The whole club goes quiet as everyone turns and nods, showing their respect for my old man. He’s the President of the Heartlands Motorcycle Club and he’s like a god to these men. But lately, to me, he’s just a pain in the ass.
Gage, the Vice President, surveys the room with a hard gaze. He would take a bullet for my dad and then rip that bullet out and beat the shit out of it for trying to go near the venerable Troy Conley.
I take a long gulp of my beer as my father makes his way over. He’s wearing a suit today and I have to stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. Mr. Presentable. Mr. Legit. Mr. I Have A Meeting With The Mayor. Mr. Too Little Too Late.
“Hello, Mr. Conley,” Walker says when he stops beside us.
My dad glances at Walker with an unimpressed look and then turns to me. “Killian. I heard that gas station got sold.”
“Yeah,” I say as I look up into his disapproving stare. “Someone was quicker on the trigger. An investor from Texas, I think.”
He puts a hand on the back of my stool and leans in, giving me a whiff of his cologne/cigar scent. “It was all set up,” he hisses. “You should have had it.”
“I tried,” I say with a shrug. “They were faster.”
“The agent told me you didn’t even show up.”
Because I don’t see the point of making ten points a year on an investment when I can make three hundred points in an hour.
“And where’s the deposit I gave you?” he asks as his knuckles turn white from gripping the stool harder.
“I’ll get it to you tomorrow,” I tell him. “I didn’t bring it here, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he mutters as he lets go of the stool and straightens back up.
He gives me one last heated glare and then continues into his office in the back of the bar.
“Goodbye, Mr. Conley,” Walker says, but he gets ignored.
“Smarten the fuck up,” Gage warns me as he follows my father.
“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath as Ranger comes over with another beer. He plops it in front of me and then puts his hands on the bar.
“I thought you could use this. I know I always needed one after I spoke with my dad.”
I take a swig and close my eyes as the cold beer spills down my throat. “I guess you don’t need it now that you have a pretty young girl warming your bed.”
He laughs. “Nope. I don’t.”
“Must be nice.”
He nods, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him. I’m thrilled for Ranger even if all that pussy has made him lose his edge a little.
“You should find a girl too,” he says as he starts putting the clean glasses away. “Settle down. Follow your dad’s advice. This club is going clean. There’s no point in fighting it.”
Walker’s phone beeps. He grabs his bag and hits my arm. “Let’s go.”
I stand up and toss some cash onto the bar. “We’re bikers, Ranger. Not accountants. There’s no point in fighting that.”
Ranger is shaking his head as we leave. We slap hands with a couple of people and then pass the bouncer Bulldog on the way out.
“Hey,” Bulldog grunts from behind us. “No selling that shit in the parking lot.”
“I’m meeting a girl,” I lie.
He’s not buying it. I gulp when I see him cross his arms over his massive chest. His knuckles are freakishly large and dangerously hard. I saw him knock out three guys with two punches once. I know that seems impossible and no one believes me when I say it, but it’s true. I have the blood-splattered shirt to prove it.
The beast has LOVE HARD tattooed across his knuckles and I know that if he catches me selling this shit, I’ll have DRAH EVOL imprinted on my forehead. Probably permanently.
“Come on,” Walker says as he picks up the pace, jogging down the street. We stop when the shitty music of the bar is just a dull murmur in the background. I look around at the dark town of Seneca with all of the closed businesses as Walker texts the guy to meet us here.
Less than a minute later, a car drives in, blinding us with its headlights.
He pulls up beside us and there’s Michail from the Russian Brotherhood behind the wheel. He’s a dealer from a couple of towns over. We used to do busine
ss with them all the time, but that was before my dad decided we should all be boy scouts.
The tinted window rolls down and Michail sneers at us. “Where is it?”
Walker pulls the backpack from his shoulder and opens it to show him the ten kilos of cocaine inside.
Why the fuck should I buy a gas station with the money, have all that headache, and get a fraction of what I’m going to get for just handing over a bag and being done with it?
“Looks good,” Michail says after he tests it with a sniff. He keeps one eye on us as he reaches over to the passenger seat and grabs a garbage bag.
“I give you my favorite backpack and you give me a garbage bag?” Walker says with a frown as he hands over the money.
“There’s three hundred grand in there,” Michail answers. “You can buy a new one made of gold.”
I keep my eye on the dealer while Walker checks that the money is all there. There’s no time to count it here, but we’ve done lots of deals with Michail in the past and he knows if he wants to keep the white stuff coming, he’s going to have to pay every dollar. Plus, he knows what we’ll do if he tries to shortchange us. The threat of that always keeps him honest.
I gasp as the bag is suddenly ripped out of Walker’s hands and he’s shoved into the car. Michail wisely takes off, spinning his tires on the dirt and sending a cloud of dust billowing all around us.
Strong hands push me from behind. I put up my fists and turn around with a snarl, ready to make the dead man pay.
It’s Gage, Bulldog, and my father.
Bulldog is glaring at Walker on the ground, begging him to get up so he can slam those cinderblock-sized fists into his face.
Gage is facing me. He’s almost double my age, but Gage was an amateur boxer in his youth and a damn good one. When my father offered him more money than boxing ever could, he joined the Heartlands Motorcycle Club and has been busting jaws ever since. So, I take a step back.
“So, this is where my hundred grand went for the deposit?” my father says as he riffles through the backpack. His furious eyes dart up to mine. I stare back at him.
“I tripled it. In five minutes.”
“That’s not what I wanted,” he hisses as he throws the backpack on the ground in disgust. “For the last time, the Heartlands are going clean. You want to be part of them or do you want to be in jail like Saint?”
Our Sergeant of Arms, Saint, has been in jail for the past four years, but he’s finally getting out soon.
“I joined a motorcycle club and that’s where I want to be,” I say as my heart starts pounding. “I heard all the old stories of the Terrible Troy Conley. But now that you’ve had your fun and made your fortune, you’re leaving all of us out to dry.”
My father steps forward with a clenched jaw, looking like he’s about to crack me one. “You know how many brothers the Terrible Troy Conley has lost? Dead. Jail. My best friend shot in the head right in front of my eyes. I know you’re young, Killian. And full of adventure and spunk just like you were at ten years old when you jumped off the roof and broke both your ankles. But you’re just as reckless. Just as careless as you were back then.”
“Did I get the money or what?” I ask as heat flushes through my body. “You tripled your investment in three days.”
He throws the backpack full of cash at my feet. “I’d rather have my son alive and free. You know that Sheriff Ramsey has it in for us. He’s just waiting, salivating at the thought of catching anything close to me.”
The Sheriff of the Town of Seneca is a real piece of work. He’s an old school Sheriff. One who would love to go back to the days of hanging criminals in the town square.
I think he’s the only man my father is afraid of.
“This is your last warning,” my dad says in a low steady voice. “Son or not, you’ll be out of the Heartlands and out of this town if you disobey my orders again.”
Without another word, he turns and storms back to the bar with Bulldog following close behind him.
Gage hangs back and then turns to Walker whose ass is still in the dirt. “You’re lucky the bossman isn’t dragging you behind the bar and putting a bullet in your head. But if I see you doing this shit again, I will. Understand?”
Walker nods with a gulp.
I’m hoping he’s going to leave the money at my feet, but of course, he doesn’t. Gage grabs the bag and grins at us as he walks back to the bar.
We follow him back and groan when we hear what he says to Bulldog, who’s back at the front door. “These boys need to think for a while. Maybe a nice walk home would do it.”
Gage points to the row of bikes parked in front of the bar. “Bulldog, if either of them touches their bike, you break their neck. Slowly.”
Bulldog crosses his huge arms over his massive chest and grins at us.
“I guess we’re walking home,” Walker says with a sigh.
“Yeah.”
Walker turns left and I turn right, starting the long walk home.
Chapter Two
Daisy
“Is there not even a movie theater or something I can go to?” I ask my dad as he opens his car door.
He stops and looks at me over the roof and his big gray bushy eyebrows come together as he frowns. I hate those eyebrows. I inherited them. I spend hours every month plucking them so that it doesn’t look like I have two huge hairy caterpillars walking across my face.
“We just went out for the evening,” he says as he glances back at the old diner beside us.
“Dinner at the diner?” I say with a groan. “Are you kidding me?”
He looks lost.
“I’ve been here for a week and all I’ve done is watch TV.”
“That’s not true,” he says with another deeper frown. “We worked on that puzzle last night.”
“Right,” I say with a sigh. “How could I forget that?” The puzzle was a photo of a bowl of apples. It was as much fun as it sounds.
“Look, Daisy,” he says as he places his arms on the hood of the car. “I’m really glad you came to spend two weeks with me, but this is a rough town. It’s not safe. Believe me, I know.”
He would know—he’s the Sheriff—but he doesn’t seem to realize that I wouldn’t mind a little danger in my life. I’m twenty years old and have been sheltered and kept hidden away by both parents for my entire life.
I want to live. I want to experience life a little.
My mother homeschooled me and I barely had any friends growing up. I still don’t.
I’m in my twenties now and I still haven’t had my first kiss, let alone lost my virginity. Not that I’m ready to give it up now, but I would like some kind of thrill. It is my vacation after all.
“I know what’s going to cheer you up,” my dad says with a big grin. “I’ve been saving a puzzle at home for a special occasion. I think you’re really going to like it. Vintage baseball cards! There’s Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, and even Ty Cobb!”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask sarcastically. “Ty Cobb too?!”
The sarcasm goes right over his nodding head. “Yeah!” he says with a thrilled smile. “What do you say we get started on it? I’ll even let you assemble The Great Bambino!”
He’s smiling from ear to ear as he disappears into the car. My spirits drop. What was I even thinking when I agreed to come here for a visit?
I live in California with my mom and it’s been two years since I’ve come to stay with my dad. It’s always so awkward whenever I’m in town. The residents of Seneca act like I’m some kind of royal princess, always waving to me and calling me by my first name even though I don’t know who they are.
Except for the bikers, they all just ignore me.
My dad is a total goof to me, but to them, I think he’s something else. There’s an edge to him that he hides from me. A dark side that’s strictly reserved for the bikers in town.
Sometimes I wonder what goes on with my dad when I’m not here.
Oh, well. I guess I’
ll never find out.
Movement catches my eye down the street and my heart starts doing little flips when I see a gorgeous man walking down the sidewalk. He’s still far enough that I can’t see his features clearly, but he’s close enough to get my heart racing. It’s doing little flips inside my chest.
The first thing I notice are the tattoo sleeves running down his thick arms. He’s wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and has a leather biker vest on. A biker with no bike…
His hands are in his pockets and he’s looking up at the stars. I swallow hard as my eyes take in his large muscular frame. His shoulders are a thing of beauty—wide and broad with a sloping curve. I lick my lips when I see his massive chest and hard stomach. His thighs are thick with muscle and I’d bet everything I have that his ass is just as delectable as his front.
But it’s his face that really gets me. It becomes clearer as he passes in front of the General store across the street. He’s got a dark brooding look to him that makes me want to go over there and stroke his sharp angular jaw to try and tease out a smile. His eyes look so fierce and determined.
I can already tell he isn’t like the boys I’ve met back home. He radiates alpha male with every confident movement he makes. He’s both sexy and dangerous at the same time, and completely and utterly intriguing.
Every stride of those thick muscular legs has heat blooming inside me, which heads straight between my legs when he turns and spots me.
Killian: Heartlands Motorcycle Club Page 1