Text copyright ©2018 Lani Lynn Vale
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To cold and flu medicine. You make life somewhat worth living during days 2 and 3 of a cold.
Acknowledgements
Golden Czermak- Photographer
Danielle Palumbo- My awesome content editor.
Ellie McLove & Ink It Out Editing- My editors
Cover Me Darling- Cover Artist
My mom- Thank you for reading this book eight million two hundred times.
Cheryl, Kendra, Diane, Leah, Kathy, Mindy, Barbara & Amanda—I don’t know what I would do without y’all. Thank you, my lovely betas, for loving my books as much as I do.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Prologue II
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
What’s Next?
Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale:
The Freebirds
Boomtown
Highway Don’t Care
Another One Bites the Dust
Last Day of My Life
Texas Tornado
I Don’t Dance
The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC
Lights To My Siren
Halligan To My Axe
Kevlar To My Vest
Keys To My Cuffs
Life To My Flight
Charge To My Line
Counter To My Intelligence
Right To My Wrong
Code 11- KPD SWAT
Center Mass
Double Tap
Bang Switch
Execution Style
Charlie Foxtrot
Kill Shot
Coup De Grace
The Uncertain Saints
Whiskey Neat
Jack & Coke
Vodka On The Rocks
Bad Apple
Dirty Mother
Rusty Nail
The Kilgore Fire Series
Shock Advised
Flash Point
Oxygen Deprived
Controlled Burn
Put Out
I Like Big Dragons Series
I Like Big Dragons and I Cannot Lie
Dragons Need Love, Too
Oh, My Dragon
The Dixie Warden Rejects
Beard Mode
Fear the Beard
Son of a Beard
I’m Only Here for the Beard
The Beard Made Me Do It
Beard Up
For the Love of Beard
Law & Beard
There’s No Crying in Baseball
Pitch Please
Quit Your Pitchin’
Listen, Pitch (10-16-18)
The Hail Raisers
Hail No
Go to Hail
Burn in Hail
What the Hail
The Hail You Say
Hail Mary
The Simple Man Series
Kinda Don’t Care
Maybe Don’t Wanna
Get You Some
Ain’t Doin’ It
Too Bad So Sad
Bear Bottom Guardians MC
Mess Me Up
Talkin’ Trash
How About No
My Bad (12-4-18)
One Chance, Fancy (1-15-19)
It Happens (2-12-19)
Keep it Classy (3-5-19)
Blurb
Wade had everything he could ever want in life…then he lost it.
Now, his life—his forever girl—is living in a house he built for her while he’s struggling to move on and find meaning where there isn’t any to be found.
Landry Hill was his girl. His everything. His first kiss. His first and only love. His old lady and wife.
Then one day he does something monumentally stupid, and she walks away knowing she’ll never come back.
Fast forward two years, and he’s still just as in love with her now as he was when she left. The only problem is that she’s moved on with her life, found a new man, and has seemingly forgotten him. Then there’s Wade—stuck in the same awful place where she abandoned him. The only thing he has left is his job as a police officer and the Bear Bottom MC.
Just when they both think things can’t get any worse, life kicks them both in the teeth, and Landry finds out really quick that the only person she can depend on is the one that let her walk away.
With that understanding comes a deal. One that Landry has no hope of ever breaking free from and one Wade will do everything in his power to make a reality.
But one thing is still certain. The force that split them apart is still out there, and there’s no hope of escaping fate.
Prologue
No goats, no glory.
-T-shirt from Tractor Supply
Landry
5 years old
The needle hurt. The nice nurse said that it would, but she didn’t have to tell me that it would. I already knew.
“When you wake up, you’ll feel a little sore,” the nice nurse lied.
I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.
My mommy and daddy didn’t like it when I cried.
***
7 years old
“Hi there, Landry. Are you in any pain?” the nurse asked.
I nodded as I thought that I didn’t know her name.
What was the point?
“Okay, I’ll get you something.” The nurse bustled out, and I took a quick glance around the room. My mommy and daddy weren’t there.
They were likely two floors away with Lina.
They were always with Lina.
I shifted before I thought about it, and pain shot through my hips and a short gasp fell free of my lips.
I didn’t cry, though. Crying never got me anywhere.
***
12 years old
“But, Mom! I don’t want to do another one!” I cried out.
I didn’t know why I was arguing. Hell, it never got me anywhere.
But God, I was just so tired.
I couldn’t be a kid. I couldn’t have fun. I couldn’t go anywhere. Couldn’t do anything.
I wanted cake! I wanted to go outside and play. I wanted to go to a bookstore and chance getting sick! I wanted a life!
“You don’t get a choice in this, Landry Marine. You get to do what you’re told because I’m the one who puts a roof over your head and food in your mouth,” my father practically snarled.
I felt the anger burn in my throat, but what he said was true. He did pay for those things.
Though, I would gladly give up those two things if I was able
to live the life I wanted to live.
My life—from the moment I was conceived in a test tube and implanted into the body of a woman who wasn’t even my mother—had been for someone else’s benefit.
It sure the heck wasn’t mine.
I was created for the sole purpose of offering their daughter—the wonderful Lina—a chance at life.
Me? Well, the only reason they wanted me healthy was because if I wasn’t healthy, I couldn’t donate bone marrow to Lina when it was needed.
And it had been needed—many times.
But, lucky for everyone but me, Lina got better every time.
The only problem was that she would only get sick again six to twelve months later.
I was, of course, the last resort.
But, that didn’t mean that I got to live my life in between those times when my sister wasn’t considered sick.
Nope, not me.
I got to eat broccoli and asparagus. I only got fruits that weren’t high in carbs.
White bread was a no-go, and I only ate the healthiest meals—lean chicken, whole grain rice.
I had my first and only bite of cake at a birthday party I was invited to, but my mother had slapped it out of my hand before I could get a second bite in.
That one had gotten me grounded for two months.
Not that it mattered.
I didn’t have a life outside of my home anyway.
I was the most boring, in shape twelve-year-old on the planet.
My parents made sure of it.
***
15 years old
Everything hurt.
But there would be no pain medicine for me, though, on the off chance that I became addicted to it.
Those were my mother’s words, not mine.
She watched over me like a hawk, and there was no way in hell that I’d ever get addicted to anything when she chose each and every thing that went into my mouth.
“Landry,” my mother chided when I walked into the living room and immediately put my ass on the couch. “Go to your room. We don’t want to listen to the television right now.”
I looked around the room at my parents who’d walked in behind me.
Not that they’d be staying.
My mother would go to her solarium while my father went to his office.
There they’d spend the next couple hours working and or entertaining.
“Would you mind dropping this off in Lina’s room on your way? She called and asked for a Happy Meal from McDonald’s when you were in surgery.”
I swallowed my anger and stood up, even though it hurt so bad that I could barely breathe.
Each time I donated, it only seemed to get worse and the recovery stretched out longer.
The pain lasted for weeks on top of weeks instead of the short intervals that I’d had in the beginning.
I was so young the first time that I underwent this procedure that I don’t remember the recovery—I just remembered pain.
And that didn’t even begin to factor in the depression that took me down for even longer.
“Sure,” I croaked, grabbing the Happy Meal off the counter. “Are you sure I won’t get germs on it?”
“Would you mind spraying the box down with Lysol, washing your hands, and then putting it out on a clean plate?” my father asked as he passed on his way to his office.
I wanted to throw it into the trash, but that wouldn’t be very nice.
My sister didn’t have a choice in how she was treated any more than I had a choice in how I was treated.
Which was why we lived in Mexico, in a house in the hills, with the very best of everything we could ever ask for because what they were doing to me was unethical. They would never allow me to be in a position where I could snitch on them that I wasn’t willingly donating.
My parents could afford anything. Anything.
Paying off a doctor to perform the medical procedures? Check.
Buying a top of the line medical hospital room and round-the-clock nurses so that my sister could be treated at home when she had to be in isolation for three weeks prior to receiving my donation? Check.
Medical personnel willing to look the other way when I was too underweight to safely donate? Check.
Oh, and let’s not forget the anti-depressants that I was on. We’ll just act like we didn’t hear that you were on them.
Yeah, my parents had everything in their front pocket, and their world revolved around their daughter.
Only, that daughter wasn’t me.
***
17 years old
Being back in the United States felt weird.
Going to school felt even weirder.
I had exactly seven months left until I graduated. Until I turned eighteen.
Until I could run and never look back.
I knew I’d be found, but I would find a way.
Anything was possible.
“Do not eat that,” my mother chided.
I ate the piece of candy and glared at her for good measure.
My mother narrowed her eyes, and I knew that it didn’t matter how much I rebelled. She’d find a way to repay me.
And she did hours later by locking me in my bedroom and telling me to think about why I was being treated like a child.
***
18 years old
I walked across the stage with tears streaming down my cheeks.
I was free.
So freakin’ free.
I had a bus ticket in my pocket.
I had eighty dollars cash that I’d stolen out of my father’s wallet.
I had my diploma.
I was ready to run, and I was never looking back.
I only wished that my problems didn’t have a way of catching up to me.
Prologue II
Before you do anything stupid this weekend, just remember it’s a three-day weekend and the judge won’t be in until Tuesday. Just sayin’.
-Wade’s secret thoughts
Wade
Five years ago
I saw her enter the classroom from across the room.
She was wearing tight blue jeans, a white t-shirt that fit her so tight I could make out every single curve, and a pair of white flip-flops that showed off her cute pink toenails.
I was teaching a criminal justice class for a friend, and I’d never been more excited than I was right then to tell my fellow cop and MC brother no, I wouldn’t be taking over the class for him.
Why you ask?
Because I knew that girl was about to be mine.
The moment we were out of this classroom, I was going to ask her out on a date, and I couldn’t do that if I was her teacher for the semester. The instant I saw those beautiful brown eyes of hers lift and take me in, I knew that I was lost.
So. Fucking. Lost.
And then there was the fact that she’d expressly violated the dress code for the class. Not that I wanted to object or anything, but she was supposed to be dressed in closed-toed footwear and have her hair up and away from her face.
The entire class was filled mostly with men, and honestly, I wasn’t sure that she belonged in this class at all.
I wasn’t sure why she was there, but I wasn’t going to complain.
Then again, I could likely teach the class seeing as she would probably stay in here for one class and one class only once she found out what it was about.
My watch beeped, signaling that it was eight exactly, and I stood up and walked to the door, shutting and locking it.
I hated latecomers, and if anyone came to the door after I’d closed it, well, they’d be making a spectacle of themselves.
I made sure to pass directly in front of the desk that the girl—woman—had taken near the middle of the room, and nearly groaned when I smelled peaches.
I felt things inside of me start to tighten, and I was thankful that there was a podium at the front of the room to co
nceal my dick since I could already feel it getting hard.
Once I was in place, I pulled out the class roster and started to read off last names.
When I got to Hill, the woman’s soft voice answered my harsh call.
“Here,” came her lilting reply.
My eyes sliced to hers, and I saw her cheeks fill with color.
Well, imagine that.
Smirking, I finished off the rest of the roster and then tossed it onto the shelf beside me before taking a look around the room.
“I’m not your regular teacher,” I started without preamble. “I’m taking over for my partner who’s sick today. He has the flu, so be thankful that he’s not the one here teaching you and infecting you with it.”
A lot of masculine laughs filled the room, but they couldn’t overpower the soft giggle that came from the girl.
Hill.
Our eyes met again, and it felt like a goddamn freight train had slammed straight into my chest when I saw the smile on her face.
I licked my lips and looked away, trying to find purchase where there wasn’t any to be had.
“Anyway, this class is going to be fun this year,” I paused. “At least it was when I took it a few years ago. There’s no telling if Cass will be a fun teacher, or if he’ll be the asshole he is the rest of the time I’m working with him.”
The girl gasped, and I felt my lip quirk up at that.
Had she never heard anyone curse before?
“This class will teach you about hands-on tactics that you’ll use during the police procedure such as when you’re arresting a suspect, performing a traffic stop, or collecting evidence that you’ll need to do during a traffic stop that turns into an arrest.” I paused. “This is also something that you’ll learn during the police academy, but more in-depth and widespread. Not to mention that whatever police department you work for will have their own policies and procedures in place.”
I nearly laughed when I saw the woman’s eyes glaze over as she took in all that I had to say.
No, this was definitely not the class for her…
An hour later, once I’d completed going over the syllabus on the topics that would be discussed this year, I sent the students on their way thirty minutes early.
Everybody got up and left, a few lingering to talk, except for one.
That student stayed at her desk, her head bowed as she stared at the course syllabus and tapped her fingers restlessly.
How About No Page 1