by Jolie Day
Table of Contents
About this Novel
Outlaw: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Table of Contents
Outlaw
Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance
Jolie Day
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are completely fiction and are in no way meant to represent real people or places.
Warning: This story contains mature themes and language. It is intended to be enjoyed by an 18+ audience only.
Copyright © Jolie Day
ISBN-13: 978-1547250332
ISBN-10: 154725033X
Table of Contents
About this Novel
Outlaw: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About this Novel
Who does this biker think he is?
He comes into my inn and demands that I give him my spare room? Can’t even ask for it, like a human being?
I don’t care how handsome he is.
I don’t care how big his muscles are or how many tattoos are inked on his skin.
I don’t care that he’s obviously packing heat (and I’m not talking about the gun on his hip).
I don’t even care that he’s part of some kind of biker gang.
I promised myself to stay away from men—especially men who look as good as him...
Disclaimer: OUTLAW is a full-length standalone bad boy biker romance novel with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. Contains mature themes and language.
Outlaw: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance
Chapter One
Regina
Carlisle’s Pub was as packed as it always was on a Saturday night and Regina Carlisle was as prepared as ever—that is to say, not at all.
She couldn’t understand why—no matter how many times it happened or how much alcohol she ordered ahead of time—the bar always ran out before closing time at three AM. Every week, she found herself reaching into her own stash of scotch and whiskey and tequila and serving it to her customers, both old and new, for crappy tips and crass remarks about her ass. She didn’t expect much more out of a bunch of drunks, though.
When she was a child, her father had owned Carlisle’s and ran it with a skilled hand and an intelligent mind. She had spent many a night perched on her own stool, watching him mix drinks and joke with the patrons. Her mother worked there as a waitress, carrying drinks back and forth and running her hand over Regina’s back as she passed. She made Shirley Temples for her daughter and helped her out with any homework that Regina had spread over the bar in front of her. Regina’s father, Danny, would sneak kisses over the bar top and Regina would cover her eyes and stick out her tongue, calling them “gross”, but secretly she’d be watching through the spaces between her fingers.
Ever since she was a child, she wanted a love like that.
“Hey, baby, can I get a shot o’ whiskey over here!”
Regina blinked out of her thoughts and turned towards the gruff voice, sighing at the sight of one of her regulars smirking over at her. Jimmy Porter was one of the more recognized town drunks and he practically had one of her barstools molded to his ass, he was here so often. Regina found herself wondering where he got the money to drink from open to close, but she’d never really questioned it out loud. After all, he always paid.
“What have I told you about calling me that, Jimmy?” she sighed, reaching under the bar for the whiskey and frowning when she saw that there was barely enough for a couple more shots, despite the fact that it had been completely full just an hour ago. She bit the inside of her cheek and reached for his shot glass, topping it up for him.
“Your mom never minded,” Jimmy responded, fisting the glass and raising it to his eyes like it held the secret to life.
“I’m not my mother,” Regina pointed out, reaching for her own shot glass and pouring herself some whiskey. She might as well get some for herself before she completely ran out.
“That’s a shame,” Jimmy huffed, then raised his glass in her direction. “Here’s to Pam; God rest her soul.” Regina sighed and clinked the rim of her glass to his, before they both downed their respective shots. The burn of the whiskey felt good as it slid down her throat. It was always her favorite.
Her father’s, too.
Regina shook her head and took a deep breath. “Rest in peace,” she agreed, her voice soft and reverent.
Both of her parents had passed away within months of each other. Her father had died in a car crash and her mother had died of a cancer that had plagued her body for years. Regina was fresh out of college when she inherited Carlisle’s and instead of selling the bar—as many of her friends had suggested—she had decided to carry on her father’s—and grandfather’s, before him—legacy.
She’d learned, first-hand, how to pour and mix drinks and had even helped her mother as a waitress to pay for college. She wasn’t yet as skillful as her father, who’d ran the bar for over thirty years and went to school for bartending when he was younger than she, but Regina did alright. She’d been running this business for over half a decade now and she hadn’t come close to shutting down yet.
But that didn’t mean everything was easy.
She had yet to find a waitress that she liked—most of the ones that passed through her bar were young and just looking to make a little spending cash on the weekends; they didn’t take the job seriously and she’d often caught them sneaking sips on the clock, stealing from her—and her current girl was named Brandy (ironically). She had long blonde hair and even longer legs. She was as graceful as a ballerina, but often got distracted by some of Regina’s tougher patrons.
Regina was also certain that Brandy was the reason she so often ran out of alcohol before the night was up. As much as she’d tried to teach Brandy how to pour and how much alcohol was to be used in mixed drinks, she was sure that the blonde used too much. She’d chastised her about it several times, but Regina wasn’t exactly in a position to be hiring or firing anybody at the moment. Brandy, at least, was willing to work for a below-average salary and was a real hit with the guys that played pool in the corner.
In addition to the bar, Carlisle’s also had two rooms for rent on the second floor. Regina had grown up watching people climb up and down those rickety old steps in the back. Musicians and bikers and sometimes amorous couples—who only ever rented the room for a couple of hours at a time—were a staple in her life. When she was growing up, her father also hired a maid to come in once a day, after the last guests had left, to tidy up the room and switch out the sheets and towels in the bathroom. Her name was Barbara and she worked for less than she deserved, but Danny Carlisle had always given her a free meal and drinks and she’d been satisfied.
When Regina’s parents died, Barbara had continued to work until she could no longer s
tand on her arthritic knees. Regina still invited her to the bar for drinks on the house and dinner once a week. After Barb, though, she decided that a maid was unnecessary for work she could get done herself.
It was tough for a young woman to run a bar and inn herself, but she got through the work week and still had energy to stand for the long Saturday night shift, which would come to an end in about…ten minutes. Regina breathed out a sigh of relief and reached for a washcloth, starting the process of cleaning off the bar top.
“Alright, everybody,” she called, raising her voice as much as possible in the boisterous bar. “Last call!” The men playing at the pool table looked up and gave her their usual glares, but they finished off their game and she ignored the way money changed hands. Brandy made one last sweep around the room, returning with closed tabs and gave Regina her last drink orders. The older woman poured the last of her tequila and scotch into shots and lamented the loss, but welcomed the extra profits, shoving them into the pocket of her apron as she went back to wiping down the bar.
One by one, the patrons started to filter out of the pub and Regina felt her shoulders begin to relax with the release of tension as the noise began to dissipate and she felt herself breathing a bit more easily. It was always like this at the end of the night, when she finally got to relax on a Saturday night, instead of work. She didn’t really mind the work so much, but it could get overwhelming at times—especially when she was constantly running out of her own alcohol.
“Have a nice night, baby,” Jimmy said, slapping a generous tip down on the bar top and giving her a wink (which looked more like a twitch, honestly) and slipping off his stool. He had a surprisingly straight walk for a man who’s stomach contents were 60% whiskey and 40% bar peanuts, but he’d always been like that. And he always left a good tip. Regina plucked the fifty-dollar bill off the bar and slipped it into her back pocket. She watched as the last few patrons started to taper off and Brandy cleaned off the tables and shoved her own tips into her apron.
By the time she returned to the bar, Regina had already swept off the entire bar, tossing every piece of trash and peanut shell into the garbage bin she kept hidden away. Brandy handed over the dirty shot glasses and Regina placed them into the sink, to be cleaned the next day after her guests in the inn left and she cleaned the sheets.
“Have a good night, Brandy,” Regina said. “Get home safely, love.”
“Good night, Reg,” Brandy replied, getting her purse from behind the bar and hanging up her apron after relieving it of her tips. She folded them and placed them in her purse pocket.
Brandy was out of the door with three minutes to spare before Regina even had to lock up. She walked around the bar and grabbed the broom, sweeping up whatever mess was left on the floor. Thankfully, there weren’t too many spills tonight.
She was just starting to place the chairs on tabletops when she heard the door to the bar open and close and she sighed, turning around. “We’re closed,” she said. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow. Besides, we’re out of alcohol, too.”
“I didn’t come here for a drink, sweetheart,” a deep, gravelly voice said. Regina looked up at a tall, muscular man in a leather jacket and wearing several tattoos—and a gun at his waist—as he lifted his brow at her and gave her a handsome grin. She frowned at him.
“Then what did you come here for?” she asked, placing one hand on her hip.
The man pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. “I need a room,” he said, placing his opposite hand on his gun. “And you’re gonna give me one.”
*****
Max
“Is that so?”
The woman before him placed her hands on wide hips, lifting one brow at him as she clenched her jaw in irritation. Her blue eyes bore into him from beneath a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that slid down her nose and her dark brown hair was pulled into a braid that swept over one of her shoulders and ended next to a rather large chest. Max found himself licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her curves and he grinned down at her when she huffed.
“Yeah,” he said, finally, his lips spreading and teeth showing. “That’s right. I hear you have a couple of rooms available upstairs. I need one.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” the woman said, turning away from him and using the broom in her hands to sweep up invisible dust around the room. “Check-in is before midnight. It’s three; you’re too late.”
“I’ll pay a late fee,” Max offered, waving the wad of cash at her as he followed her around the room, from table to table. She ignored him, picking up chairs and flipping them over, placing them on the bar tables. He began to help her and she sent him a glare. “Come on,” Max said. “I’ll pay double.”
“How do you even know I have a room available?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder as she headed back behind the bar and started to untie her apron, taking out the tips and counting them out.
“The ‘Vacancy’ sign in your window,” Max pointed out with a laugh. “Come on, sweetheart. Help a guy out.”
“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I have a name.”
“Well, since you haven’t exactly shared that with me, what else am I supposed to call you?” Max asked, giving her his most charming grin.
The woman didn’t fall for it. Instead, she studied him for a long moment as her fingers absently folded the money in her hand and shoved them into her front left pocket. Finally, she held out her hand to him.
“Regina Carlisle,” she introduced.
“Max Stormwell. You Danny’s girl?” Max asked, wrapping his large, callused fingers around hers.
“He was my father…you knew him?”
“Only in passing. My pop used to pass through town. Harrison Stormwell. They used to call him Stormy.” He laughed.
“I’ve never heard of him,” Regina said, pulling her hand away and tucking it into her pocket. “But I haven’t really heard of or met most of my father’s patrons, so that’s not too unusual.”
“Well, my pop thought the world of your father,” Max told her. “You woulda thought he hung the moon.” He laughed and felt a bit of triumph when Regina’s lips tilted up in a grin. “Anyway, Danny always told my pop that if he or his family ever needed a place to stay, there was always room here for us. Now, I’m here to call on that favor.”
“That’s sweet and all,” Regina said, “but I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“What do you mean?” Max asked, a wrinkle appearing between his furrowed brows.
“My father passed away years ago,” Regina informed him, locking up the cash register and fighting past the lump that had already started to form in her throat, swallowing thickly. “As did my mother. I’m afraid that favor you’re talking about expired with them.” She shrugged and made her way out from behind the bar. “Now, if you’ll please just…” she motioned toward the exit as she trailed off. “I have to lock up.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you give me a room,” Max said, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to smirk when he caught Regina’s eyes flit to the muscles bunching under the sleeves of his leather jacket.
“I told you, already,” Regina sighed. “You’re too late. Check-in was three hours ago. We’re closed now.”
“Come on,” Max grunted. “I’m sure you can make an exception, just this once. I’m an old family friend, after all, ain’t I?”
“I’ve never even met you,” Regina pointed out, lifting one brow again.
“Still,” Max said. “What’s the harm in letting me check-in right now. I promise I won’t make any noise and disturb your other guest. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse; you won’t even know I’m there.” He looked down into her eyes, pleading with his own. He wasn’t one to beg, but this was the only room available in town and he didn’t even have a car to stay in. All he had was his bike and the clothes on his back.
He just hoped this woman had a heart somewhere behind her impressive chest.
; Regina clenched her jaw again, her brow furrowing as she considered the man in front of her for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and her shoulders drooped as she gave in.
“Fine,” she said. “You can have the room. But you’re paying an extra fee for late check-in.”
“Deal,” Max said, giving her a wide grin. “Whatever you want, sweet—err, Regina.”
The woman rolled her eyes and returned to the bar, reaching underneath it for the guest charter and opening it to a new page. “Room 2 is open,” she said, reaching for the spare room key on the hook behind her. “Check out is before two,” she informed him.
“Oh, I won’t be checking out for a couple days,” Max replied.
“How many?”
“Beats me,” Max said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got some business to take care of in town and lord knows how long it’s gonna take to get done. I’ll let you know as soon as I do, though. ‘Kay, sweetheart?” He winked at her and Regina rolled her eyes, turning the charter towards him.
“Just sign,” she said. “And put the date next to your name.” He did as he was told and shoved the book back towards her. Regina handed him the room key. “Here you go,” she said. “Just make sure you’re out of your room at around 2:30 so it can be cleaned.”
“Got it,” Max replied, with a click of his tongue and a wink. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“My name is Regina,” she called after him as he made his way toward the stairs. “And be quiet. My other guests are sleeping.”
*****
Regina
Max gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder, but didn’t look back as he sauntered up the steps and Regina watched, her eyes trailing down to his impressive backside, allowing herself a moment of shameless appreciation.
It wasn’t a bad view.