Every day proved she was one freaking very lucky woman.
The End
Read an excerpt from Their Ex’s Redrock Dawn (Alpha Texas Biker) by Shirl Anders
Carly choked on the sip of beer she’d just taken while strolling through the lively Spring Cultural Festival that was using over five blocks downtown and all of Takoda Park. Instant pain sliced through her, nearly crumpling her to the ground.
It was Rick ...
Her husband—they’d been separated, but recently reconciled.
Rick was kissing a petite woman with long black hair, up against a tree in the park.
Her husband’s tongue was down the woman’s throat!
Carly tried to hold on to the beer bottle so it wouldn’t hit the ground and break as she wobbled to the side.
He’d been freaking lying to her.
Her three-inch wedge sandals made her feel as if she could fall off a cliff, while pain and deceit ripped a hole through her. All she could think: Freaking glad I didn’t give him back all my heart. She’d been holding back, with some inner sense telling her that Rick wanting them to reconcile was not ringing true.
Carly watched with blurry eyes because of the tears she was fighting as Rick grabbed the petite woman’s ass, and then he pulled her into his body—to grind against her.
A harsh gasp shot from Carly’s lips, while her body felt numb. It was out there in the open, for all to see. She jerked her head, ripping her gaze away from the sights of raw infidelity. That was when she saw him—on the other side of the cheating couple. He was standing as far away from them as she was, but he seemed closer because he was a big man, and all his attention was focused on Rick and the woman’s heavy necking.
Carly blinked the tears out of her eyes and loosened the hold she had on the neck of her beer bottle, dropping it in the grass. The large man looked like a cross between a biker and a soldier. He had on faded jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a leather vest over a tee shirt that showed the swell of muscular arms. But it was his shortly cropped, dark reddish hair that gave her the military vibe; maybe the tattoos too, but those could go either way. In the seconds she’d become aware of him, and watched him, he’d torn off his sunglasses and she’d inhaled a sharp breath at the intensity flaring in his icy light blue eyes.
Then she watched him crush the sunglasses in his big fist, until she saw blood beginning to drip out of his clenched hand, and it started to drop on the grass. Those emotions wrenched her free from immobility, and she realized, without a doubt, the biker knew the woman Rick was deep throating.
Is she his woman? Carly wondered blindly as the raw emotions of the moment dragged her toward the fierce-looking biker. She didn’t look at Rick mauling his newest honey—she just watched the emotion barely playing across the biker’s hard-angled face. His face was like a piece of carved masculinity, but she saw the blaze of pain and betrayal in his gaze.
She knew that beast and could spot it anywhere.
God, if the fierce-looking biker took on Rick ... Rick would be dead, and the biker would be in prison for life.
The certainty of that startled her.
“They’re not worth it,” she blurted at the biker.
Up close, he was even bigger. His eyes were more piercing and intense as he turned them slowly toward her until their bitter blueness slammed into her, full force. Yes, she wanted to scream at him. Yes, I feel it all, or did months ago when my husband first left me.
To him, she continued as fiercely as he looked, stealing her breath away. “They’re freaking not worth going to jail for.”
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled, cutting his eyes back to the adulterous couple and not tearing his fierce gaze from them. He’d said it like a demand to get out of his business ... and she should ... she so should.
Carly pointed a shaking finger at Rick, who had his hand up under the woman’s short summer blouse, while the woman had her leg hooked over Rick’s hip.
“My husband,” she expelled in a suppressed little screech. Then she wondered why she wasn’t going over and punching Rick in the face, which she started to do, but a wide hand gripped her arm, stopping her.
“You’re shitting me?” Carly’s gaze jerked to the blaze of blue eyes, but before she could tell him no one would shit about something like that, he expelled his own stunning revelation. “My fucking wife.”
His jaw, like a cliff, jerked in the cheating couple’s direction as she gasped. Some part of her knew he had history with the woman, but “wife”? No, that thought had not occurred to her. She was stunned as angry tears started in her eyes.
“Let me go,” she hissed at the man, as if he was the vile cheater, while she tugged on her arm, but he held her firmly.
Her bitterness didn’t move him, instead he tugged, and her wedge heels gave, making her totter, but he held her from falling while he growled, “Talk.” Then she was pulled after him as the vibrations of his guttural voice slithered through her.
Zeb pulled the curvy blonde after him. Wife. She was the bastard’s wife. She was a girly girl, wearing some kind of gauzy summer dress of yellow and turquoise, along with a pink baseball cap that had damn sequins on it. Her blond hair was in a ponytail out the back of the cap, and she had on high-heeled wedge sandals that showed off her pink sparkle-painted toenails.
The thing that messed with him right off, after the rage of finding his wife, was even noticing the babe he was pulling along with him had no fucking bra on.
What man let his woman, who looked like this one, come out dressed like she was when she wasn’t on his arm?
Fucker with his tongue down your wife’s throat, came back his mental reply. He reached his hog in the park’s parking lot and he swung the babe around, giving a little push until her very round ass hit his Harley’s leather seat and her long, bare legs stretched out in front of her.
Damn him; his gaze settled on the outline of her full breasts beneath the airy stretch of her dress, noticing up close he could see hard nipples. That dragged another growl from his throat as he scraped a hard hand over the skull-cut bristle of his hair.
Then the babe exclaimed, “You’re bleeding!” She grabbed his hand, with his sunglasses still crumpled in his fist, pulling it to her, while she also complained, “You shouldn’t just drag women off.” Her full lips pouted up at him as if he was supposed to take her seriously, then her face darted toward his belt as she leaned forward.
Whoa. Which was in the direct area of his little-used cock, because he’d been searching for his wife for three months, in the army before that, and it’d been twenty-one damn months since his cock had seen anything but his hand. Her nose nearly touched his zipper—he felt her hand at his back pocket as he played statue. Then he finally figured out her game ... it was his bandana she was after.
He tugged his hand out of her fingers and tossed his broken and bloody sunglasses on the pavement, then he grabbed the bandana out of her other hand and he wound it a few times over his cut hand to stop the blood. He could still feel glass in there, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d been running on hyper-cruise for days now, looking for his missing wife, tracking her from town to town.
His intention was to ask her why the hell she’d left him and forgot to tell him about it before he’d gotten home. Even then she hadn’t told him; he’d just gone to their house after her no-show at the airport, and he’d found their house empty, with all her stuff gone. No note. Not even any fucking electricity.
He could have thought she was dead, murdered, or something, but her dickwad brother at least told him when he’d called that Tula was running the beauty queen circuit. Okay, did that mean his lovely little wife just for-got he was coming home? Dickwad didn’t know, but offered the meaningful advice that if you didn’t give your woman cock, someone else would.
“There’s still glass in there,” his busty wannabe nurse exclaimed, grabbing back his hand. “Should go to emergency care,” she muttered as he sighed a grunting sound and let her hav
e at it.
What the hell; while he seethed with anger over Tula’s fucking cheating he could look at breasts he could imagine getting his hands on.
“Zeb Andersen, you?” he asked while she used her long fingernails to pick out a piece of the sunglasses’ fake glass.
“Carly Shaw,” she answered, and he heard the snit in her voice. “And I don’t want to talk to you.”
He got that she meant that from his earlier one-word vocalized command, and he also knew, looking down on the pout of her plumped-out pink bottom lip, that she really fucking did want talk to him, she was just being riled. Who the hell else would she want to talk too? Her cheating husband? His cheating damn wife?
“Sweetness, we are talking,” he uttered in the growl of a voice he had. Her gray eyes pinned him with a glare from under her lashes and the brim of her pink ball cap.
“Sugar’s not getting you shit,” she declared. And he nearly chuckled at her sass.
If circumstances were different he could prove to her his brand of sugar would have her screaming his name very passionately. He was surprised under the same circumstances that he felt a flash of wanting to take her up on the dare.
He thought the cutesy name “Carly” fit her down to her pink-painted toenails. And it had been a long time since he’d had a woman touch him, even if it was his damn hand. Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had a woman that close, and she was a pretty woman, but way curvier than usually attracted his look. She had long eyelashes and full, pouty lips. He wanted to lift her ball cap off so he could see her face better.
“He just came back to reconcile with me,” she whispered. He saw the instant pain and tears as she turned her face down, wrapping the bandana slowly around his hand.
Damn.
He cupped her nape below her ponytail and his grip tightened. “Fuckers,” he growled, trying to keep his fury under control.
It was too amazing for him to get. Him finding Tula, then finding the wife of the bastard cheating with his wife. After the long hours riding his Harley across half the country looking for Tula, he’d figured about midway the endgame had to be she was cheating and had run off from their marriage. Maybe unable to take the time alone while he’d been in the military.
He’d known in the year after he’d married her, to basically get her away from her abusive stepfather, that she was like a feather in the wind, bouncing from one thing to the next. She never really seemed to take settling down to be a wife, and he’d worried about her managing while he went overseas. He’d been bothered enough that he’d set up his accountant to handle money and just give Tula a monthly allowance.
One minute he’d think he should have known, and the next he’d be pissed for taking all the blame because she had married him. That implied she’d wanted a husband, kids, family life, and she wanted to try to be a wife.
“Yeah, bastards,” she said more delicately, but with as much venom as he had.
Zeb was immediately bothered by the fact Carly’s husband had come back, she’d said, “to reconcile,” at the same time screwing around with Tula. Those two actions did not match up. His thumb slid along the smoothness of Carly’s jaw and cheek, and he felt a telltale tear wet his thumb.
“Why’s your asshole come back if he’s sticking it in her?” Zeb jerked his chin back in the direction of the offenders.
Carly’s gaze turned up to him with pain on her face, but also confusion. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Carly watched Zeb’s rugged features—which were sun-brown enough, as if he’d been riding his bike a long time—tense more as he uttered, “Not good.”
It isn’t good at all, she thought. She couldn’t figure out why Rick would do that. Maybe that was why she got distracted by the feel of big, badass biker Zeb Andersen’s broad hand holding her nape, while an inner shiver proceeded to melt through her. Her eyes widened in surprise of the feelings.
She was crazy betrayed, off balance, bitter, and angry ... so why would his touch affect her?
No way he was her type—he was too “male.” A man like him would eat her up and spit her out, which made her wonder about his wife. She had to be some kind of woman to get badass, virile Zeb and Rick both wound up in her.
Carly did hate her. With that thought, she really hated her.
She finally moved from the comfort of Zeb’s hand, and she stood, saying, “Okay, I’m going to confront his ass.” She swung toward the park, then Zeb’s hand once again melted onto the indent of her waist.
“Nope,” he clipped.
Just as she was saying, “It was good to meet you, even under the damn circumstances.” Then she realized what he said as he hauled her back to the seat of his hog. “What’d you say?”
She might have glared at him, and his hand did not leave her waist, where it burned right through the little, airy sundress she had on. “Nope,” he repeated, as if that were enough, while she watched his intense blues eyes scanning the area.
“I need more than just nope, Zeb,” she advised him.
“We’re not confronting them,” his very deep voice informed her.
She grabbed his tee shirt, tugging until he looked at her. “I am,” she stated.
“No.”
“Yes,” she enunciated. Then she added, “He’s not getting away with this.”
“Get on back of my bike,” he ordered.
Read a rough draft excerpt of Their Ex’s Redrock Twilight(Texas Alpha) by Shirl Anders
Finn checked the clock on the wall behind the front desk of his motel called Rowdie’s : seven twenty-one in the morning. He looked down at the gun he’d just finished loading and he pulled back on the hammer of his Glock, hearing the overly loud sound of a load hitting the chamber. Finn checked the safety again and then stuffed the gun into the back waistband of his jeans, pulling his black Henley over it as his gaze rose.
Almost over.
“Shit,” he cussed, seeing his fucking wife’s car entering the parking lot. He’d called her last night, after not speaking to her for months, and told her not to come to Rowdies that morning. He’d not been nice about it. He thought he’d made a fucking impression on her that that morning of all mornings she needed to stay the fuck away. She knew what he did and she knew he was fucking undercover so why did she never fucking listen.
“Jesus, help me,” he muttered under his breath, moving from around the counter. He couldn’t stop her because he’d break his cover. Finn clenched his fist thinking she probably wasn’t going to get hurt, just swept up in the trouble. He could break her free of it after it all went down.
Then he watched a tall dude in a suit get out of the car with her. Finn thought maybe a little fucking justice would be served to Katie and her new lay by getting tangled up in shit that was likely to scare the crap out of them.
“Yeah,” Finn muttered as his gaze checked the police tactical positions around his sleazy motel. They were all locked, loaded, and ready to go. Finn could hear it in his ear piece. The call through the ranks that the tall dude was not one of the tangos they were looking for.
But his wife and the guy lingered outside while Finn’s eyes narrowed, watching Katie roll up on her toes to kiss the guy. The guy liked it, stupid fuck, and he grabbed her ass in two hands bending down from his height to do it.
“Fuck,” Finn growled, prowling in a circle once, feeling edgy and wrung tight. Katie was deep throating the guy with her tongue for Finn’s benefit because she knew he’d be looking. Finn didn’t really give a shit about that, about her games, he was wired because he was ready to go.
“Where is fucking Creed?” he uttered.
Then he saw her.
And he’d never seen the woman before.
And he knew that because he sure the shit would have remembered. She had tits and ass like a dream with thick dark hair and lips that even at distance looked curvy, attractive, and extremely feminine. But the lady ... and Finn paused in his perusal a second to wonder what the fuck a lady like her was doin
g by his motel creeping by his side window. Her eyes were all for his wife and the dude making out. Then because the window was right across from him, Finn saw her hand lifting to her lips to stifle an obvious wail.
Finn’s gaze jumped from the babe to the couple, doing the hot and heavy, then back to the babe with tears running down from her incredible dark lashed eyes.
Then it slammed him: who she had to be.
Coco nearly collapsed. She’d been looking for her husband for weeks, afraid he was murdered in a ditch or backroom somewhere, looking for him and just holding back her hysteria. And now to see Gordon finally. But Gordon had a slender blond woman hauled up his tall body and they were kissing passionately.
“Oh my God,” Coco groaned into her palm. Passion? Gordon was not passionate? How could this be the outcome of Gordon’s disappearance? Maybe her mind cracked looking for him for so long? Maybe she was hallucinating that her husband was making out with another woman. Coco knew her and Gordon’s marriage was on a thin string, but this!
She placed her hand out to steady herself on the window of the motel office beside her. Maybe this was part of Gordon’s nefarious business dealings lately. Maybe the woman was forcing Gordon too —
“Don’t be an idiot,” Coco hissed at herself. But she deserved an answer and she was going to find one, no matter how much it hurt her. No matter how much it devastated her to run up on her long lost Gordon while he was groping and kissing the blond.
Only Coco just reached the driveway when a big SUV squealed into it and past her while making her exclaim and totter backwards on her heels it was so close. The noise from the SUV, started to lift Gordon’s head and Coco opened her mouth to scream at him.
Their Ex's Redrock Midnight (Texas Alpha) Page 16