by Shirl Anders
Their Ex’s Redrock Dawn (Texas Alpha Biker)
By Shirl Anders
Table of Contents
Title Page
Their Ex's Redrock Dawn (Texas Alpha Biker)
ONE] Get On Back Of My Bike
TWO] Sweetness Could Slay Him
THREE] Got A Taste Of You
FOUR] A Man Just Knew
FIVE] Need Your Ass Spanked
SIX] Him Hard, Her Soft
SEVEN] You Saved My Life
EIGHT] Done For The Wrong Reasons
NINE] No Questions, Carly
TEN] Long As It Takes, Baby
ELEVEN] Sweet Ass Licked By Leather
TWELVE] She’s The One
THIRTEEN] Badass Biker Babe
FOURTEEN] You’re So Bossy
FIFTEEN] Only Thought Of You
SIXTEEN] Un-Freaking-Real
SEVENTEEN] Back Me Up
EIGHTEEN] Can’t Stop Me
NINETEEN] Something’s Working In The Universe
TWENTY] Ranger
TWENTY ONE] It’s Not Always About That
TWENTY-TWO] Going In & You’re All Mine
TWENTY-THREE] Fourth Of July, I Just Turn You On, Sweetness
Read a rough draft 1st Chapter of Their Ex’s Redrock Twilight (Texas Alpha) by Shirl Anders | (Not Available Yet)
This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book maybe be reproduced, scanned, or printed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Indian casinos; ZIGI Black Label; Redrock; Stoly; Valentino; Daughtry; Lincoln Navigator; Harley; The Rock; Coke; Army; Rangers.
Copyright © 2014 by Shirl Anders. All rights reserved.
Their Ex’s Redrock Series
Their Ex’s Redrock (Texas Alpha)
Their Ex’s Redrock Midnight (Texas Alpha)
Their Ex’s Redrock Dawn (Texas Alpha Biker)
Their Ex’s Redrock Twilight (Texas Alpha) (coming soon)
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Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
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ONE] Get On Back Of My Bike
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, which nearly crumpled 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 was, she was freaking glad she didn’t give him back all her heart. She’d been holding back, having 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 the heavy necking Rick and the woman were doing.
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, reddish dark hair that gave her the military vibe; maybe the tattoos too, but those could go either way. In the seconds since 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—slowly dripping onto the grass. Those emotions wrenched her free from immobility, and she realized, without a doubt, the biker knew the woman Rick was deep-throat kissing.
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 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 all of that, or did months ago when my husband first left me.
To him, she continued, as fiercely as he looked, “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 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 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 lie 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 wedged 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 blond after him. Wife. S
he 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 sandals that showed off her sparkling-pink 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? Bastard with his tongue down your wife’s throat, came back his mental reply.
He reached his hog in the parking lot of the county park 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 pulled 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 by saying, “You shouldn’t just drag women off.”
Her full lips pouted up toward him, as if he was supposed to take her seriously, then her face rushed 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 and he felt her hand at his back pocket as he played statue. Then he finally figured out her game ... she was after his bandana.
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 palm, to stop the blood. He could still feel glass in there but he didn’t give a damn. He’d been running on hyper-cruise for days 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 or murdered, 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 forgot 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, and she grabbed his hand back to her. “Should go to emergency care,” she muttered, as he sighed with a grunting sound and let her have 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 white-tipped fingernails to pick out a piece of the sunglasses’ fake glass.
“Carly Oliver,” she answered, and he heard the snit in her voice. “And I don’t want to talk to you.”
He understood she must have that sentiment from his earlier one-word command, and he also knew looking down on the pout of her pink bottom lip that she really damn well did want to talk to him—she was just being riled. Who the hell else would she want to talk to? Her unfaithful husband? His damn two-timing 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 eye. She had long eyelashes and soft, 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. Zeb saw the instant pain and tears as she turned her face down, wrapping the bandana slowly around his hand.
Damn.
His other hand 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 prick cheating with his wife. After the long hours riding his Harley across half the country looking for Tula, he’d figured about midway the end game had to be she was two-timing him and had run off from their marriage. Maybe she’d been 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’d never really seemed to take to settling down to be a wife, and he’d worried about her managing while he went overseas. He was even bothered enough to set up an 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,” Carly said, more delicately, but with as much venom as he’d had.
Zeb was immediately bothered by the fact Carly’s husband had come back—she’d said, “To reconcile,” while at the same time screwing around with Tula. Those two actions did not match up. His thumb slid along the smoothness of Carly’s cheek and jaw, and he felt a telltale tear wetting his thumb.
“Why’d 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-browned, 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 feeling.
She was crazy betrayed, off balance, bitter, and angry ... so why would Zeb’s touch affect her?
No way was he 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 had hated 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 when 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 the damn circumstances.” Then she realized what he’d said as he hauled her back to the seat of his big motorcycle. “What did 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 blue 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 said. Then she added, “He’s not getting away with this.”
“Get on the back of my bike,” he ordered.
Carly couldn’t believe it. “Are you crazy? No.” Then she tried to move up, but he was so close she landed against him. Like full breast contact. That startled her so much, she forgot to let go of the side of his tee shirt, and his hand ended up back on her nape. What the heck?
“Bike. Now,” he ordered, and he had her chin in his grip, making her look up at him.
Damn, if her nipples weren’t hard. He had to feel that. A hot blush exploded on her face. Maybe it was her total confusion, but she turned her gaze and body toward his motorcycle. Whew, nipple contact averted. Maybe she could think.
But then Zeb’s hands spanned her waist from both sides. He had big hands, and she could feel them from the top of her thong to where the back of her bra should be. Well hell, she hadn’t expected any guy to be handling her to feel any of that.
“On,” he ordered, his voice now growling, his hands pressing her to do it.
“I’m in a dress,” she exclaimed. “It will blow everywhere.”
“I won’t mind.”
Her gaze darted over her shoulder with an all-out stare into his gaze. Had he just said that? His brilliant blue eyes told her he had said it and he meant it.
Then Carly heard an exclaimed laugh that startled her, along with another voice she knew, calling with playful sexual overtones, “Slicky chicky come to Daddy.”
Carly gasped at hearing Rick’s voice, but she was hauled up against Zeb as he turned her until his back was to his motorcycle, and then the next second Zeb’s mouth was over hers.
Instant, rolling, and amazing heat exploded through Carly’s senses. Then a flash explosion of desire followed like a freight train—the desire of something really freaking amazing that she could not ignore. No matter how inappropriate. She couldn’t seem to care.