by Marla Monroe
The Howling Death MC 2
Caught Between Hawk and Gunner
Jackie’s looking for a new start. Hawk and Gunner weren’t looking for anything, but they sure as hell found her. Can they keep her?
Jackie’s life hasn’t been smooth, but she’s determined to find a new one with fewer bumps in the road. When her truck breaks down and she accepts a ride from two bikers, all of her plans are upended in a little dusty town in the middle of nowhere.
Hawk likes what he sees, but his partner Gunner is resistant for some reason. When danger is knocking at their back gate, the two men are tasked with keeping a close eye on Jackie. Could she be a spy for their enemy, or is she just an innocent bystander with enough baggage to kill a horse?
The three have to work it all out before their fighting leads to someone falling into the wrong hands. Hawk and Gunner aren’t letting Jackie go. Now, they just have to convince her.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 45,470 words
CAUGHT BETWEEN HAWK
AND GUNNER
The Howling Death MC 2
Marla Monroe

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
CAUGHT BETWEEN HAWK AND GUNNER
Copyright © 2017 by Marla Monroe
ISBN: 978-1-64010-337-5
First Publication: June 2017
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marla Monroe has been writing professionally for nearly thirteen years. Her first book with Siren was published in January 2011, and she now has over 75 books available with them. She loves to write and spends every spare minute either at the keyboard or reading. She writes everything from sizzling-hot cowboys, emotionally charged BDSM, and dangerously addictive shifters to science fiction ménages with the occasional badass biker thrown in for good measure.
Marla lives in the southern US and works full-time at a busy hospital. When not writing, she loves to travel, spend time with her feline muses, and read. Although she misses her cross-stitch and putting together puzzles, she is much happier writing fantasy worlds where she can make everyone’s dreams come true. She’s always eager to try something new and thoroughly enjoys the research she does for her books. She loves to hear from readers about what they are looking for in their reading adventures.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Landmarks
Cover
CAUGHT BETWEEN HAWK
AND GUNNER
The Howling Death MC 2
MARLA MONROE
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
“Where the hell is a cop when you need one?” Jackie Culpepper stared at the spewing radiator of her old Ford truck in disgust.
Jackie, Jack to everyone who knew her back in Roeho, Texas, sighed and looked toward the heavens, blowing the wild, unmanageable hair out of her eyes as she did. How had her perfect life gone so wrong? She snorted.
As if. I can’t remember a day that I haven’t had to fix, fight, or fuss about something. Damn, I can’t remember the last time I closed my eyes and relaxed for longer than five freaking minutes.
Looking back down at the rust bucket of a truck, Jackie wished she’d had enough money to do a complete overhaul on the thing, but the green stuff sure as shit didn’t grow on trees. She’d fixed everything she could afford to like changing the spark plugs, air filter, fuel filter, and getting brand new tires. Leave it to her stellar luck to have the one thing she didn’t think would be a problem to blow a hole and wag its tongue at her.
She stared down the road where she’d come from but didn’t see a single hint that someone might be heading her way. Turning toward the direction she’d been heading, the view looked the same, miles and miles of empty road with nothing between her and the next town other than flat land and a crap load full of empty promises.
Oh and don’t forget that freaking hot sun. I can’t believe I’m going to end up walking. How many more miles is it to the next god forsaken spit puddle on the map?
Jackie stomped around to the cab of the truck and leaned in to pull out the taped together printouts she’d made at the library. Maps were expensive. Looking at where she’d last been and where she thought she was now, it looked to be another six to eight miles to some Podunk town called Settler’s Point, Oklahoma.
“Just great. I can’t carry all of my shit that far.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second to make sure she wasn’t about to pull a girl and cry over some stupid crap like this.
She folded the map and shoved it back into the glove compartment before pulling her pack off the passenger side seat. Jackie stuffed everything valuable into the pack that already held a change of clothes for emergencies like this. She’d weathered enough of them to keep a go-bag with her at all times.
What had she expected anyway? Her entire life had been living between one disaster after another. She’d no sooner make it through one and catch her breath before the next one was bearing down on her at warp speed. She didn’t know if she could function on anything but high alert. What if quiet solitude annoyed her? What if she finally found a place to settle down without the drama of her extended family or the constant nagging from some bill collector or another? What if for once she found friends who didn’t back stab her? Could she live without constant chaos?
“I sure as hell would like to find out,” she grumbled.
Jackie locked the truc
k after taking one last look to be sure she had everything of absolute importance. She slipped on the much heavier backpack and started walking toward the next town.
The first mile wasn’t so bad. Yeah, she was sweating, and her crazy hair wouldn’t stay out of her face even after she’d stuck most of it under a cap, but all in all, a decent mile. The second one passed about like the first, but with a little more sweat and the pack was starting to get heavy.
By the fourth mile, Jackie was breathing hard and cursing the truck under her breath as she tried to find a dry place on her shirt to wipe the sweat out of her stinging eyes. Why in the hell had she thought she could walk eight miles?
At first she thought it was the heat making her ears ring, but once she stopped talking to herself, Jackie was sure she could hear the roar of pipes. Motorcycles. She turned to look over her shoulder, and a watery mirage of bikes appeared on the road in the distance, quickly eating up the road between them.
“Damn. There isn’t anything tall enough to hide me even if they haven’t already seen me. Maybe they’ll ride right by. I hope.” She turned and continued walking. “I’m screwed.”
Jackie knew the rumble as they drew closer meant more than four or five. When the ground beneath her feet began to vibrate, she steeled herself for whatever happened next.
Maybe I’ll get lucky for once in my crazy life, and they’ll just grin as they drive by. I won’t even shoot them the bird. All they have to do is keep on riding.
Two of the bikes passed her going slow enough they could have walked the damn things. When they turned, pulling off onto the side, stopping a good ten yards ahead of her, she knew she was in a world of crap. Two more bikes slow-motored past to stop on the edge of the road about five yards from her. The crunch of gravel behind her told her that at least one bike had pulled over behind her.
She stopped where she was but didn’t turn around. Instead, she slipped one hand into her pocket and pulled out her CAT punch, a handheld weapon shaped like a cat’s head where the ears were sharp points, and continued to look at the ground a couple of yards ahead of her. Deafening silence startled her when they all cut their engines at the same time. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart beating in her ears over the noise of her teeth grinding as she clenched them.
I’m so fucked!
The two bikers ahead of her hadn’t moved. When she risked looking up, she could see that they hadn’t removed their helmets either. That was good, she figured. If she couldn’t identify them, maybe they wouldn’t kill her. As long as she was alive, she would survive. That had been her motto nearly her entire twenty-nine years.
The two bikers who had stopped right next to her slowly pulled off their helmets. She had to roll her lips in over her teeth to keep from screaming at them to keep their helmets on. Instead, she made sure she didn’t turn toward them, watching them from the corner of her eye just to be sure they didn’t approach her. She had no idea what she could do if they did. There was nowhere to run even if she could outrun a bike. The CAT punch would probably only make them madder even if she managed to get one good hit in.
“That your truck back there, sweetheart?” one of the men next to her asked.
Good lord, his voice alone could cause a woman to climax. She wouldn’t even need to see his face or body. That deep rumble was enough to reach right through a woman’s clothes and rub her pussy to orgasm all by itself.
I’m so screwed.
“Yeah. It’s mine.” She had to swallow before she could even answer. Her throat felt drier than the lint screen on a clothes dryer.
“Need a ride into town?” the other biker asked. While his voice wasn’t as drool-worthy as the man next to him, Jackie still ended up with chill bumps all down her back.
It took a monumental effort not to shiver at the sensation. All she needed was for them to think she was scared spitless of them. Even though she was, letting them know it wouldn’t be good for her in the long run. She needed to remain calm and keep her temper in check. Pissing off a biker was stupid. Pissing off a biker with six or eight of his buddies around him was right on up there with the world’s stupidest criminal’s award. Oh, they called those the Darwin Awards, didn’t they.
“Yeah, thanks, but I’m good. I appreciate the offer, though.” Jackie cringed at how hollow her voice sounded. Even a blond could hear the fear in it.
“Look, hon. It’s hot out here, and you’ve still got a good six or so miles ahead of you. Just climb on, and we’ll drop you off wherever you want. The garage is open, but it won’t be by the time you walk all the way there carrying that pack.” That deep voice had her squeezing her legs together. She almost missed what he was saying.
“Um, what time is it?” She couldn’t believe she’d just asked a biker what time it was. What was wrong with her? Where was her sense of self-preservation that had been working fine until a few seconds ago?
“Looks like about four. You’re soaking wet, and cowboy boots aren’t exactly good for walking long distances. You’ll have blisters before you get there. Hop on, hon.” She couldn’t help looking over to see what the man with the slow, smooth voice looked like.
She’d figured the panty-soaker voice to be the one farthest from her, and the smooth talker was the one closest to her. When she finally looked up and in their direction, Jackie couldn’t believe her eyes. Two of the most handsome men she’d ever seen sat straddling serious muscle.
The biker closest to her had a square jaw with a small scar diagonally across his chin. It didn’t detract from his rugged good looks one iota. A scruffy shadow outlined the thin imperfection, or she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. His eyes didn’t waver as she took him in—all of him. Their intense, fathomless black stare would have unnerved anyone, but for some reason, it didn’t scare her. She had a difficult time pulling her gaze away.
He had short brown hair that looked as if it had gray highlights and was standing up in a perfect helmet-head style. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, and the cut of his jeans put those thick muscular thighs on display perfectly. She wished he wasn’t on the bike so she could see his ass and just maybe get an idea of what his package would be like.
What. The. Fuck. Why am I ogling a biker who very well might torture and kill me? Have I already managed to get sunstroke?
“We aren’t going to hurt you, sweet thing. Let us get you to town before the garage closes.” Her eyes snapped to the other man as his rich voice thrummed across nerve endings she didn’t even know she had.
“I—I think I’ll take my chances walking. Thanks, though.”
“Gunner,” a deep, sinful voice said.
Before she could wonder what he was talking about, the biker closest to her threw one leg back over the seat and two strides later, he had her left wrist in his huge paw of a hand, pulling her toward his bike. Jackie nearly panicked, forgetting all about her CAT punch. Instead of stopping at his bike, the huge man pulled her around it to stand next to Mr. Fuck Me with Your Voice.
Jackie finally caught up with what was happening and pulled out the punch, aiming it for the biker’s ribs. It connected, but instead of going through a T-shirt and into his side, it stopped dead, jarring her wrist so that she cried out. What the hell did he have on? Surely the leather vest wasn’t made of chain mail. Fuck that had hurt!
“Son of a bitch!” her captor snarled. “What the fuck are you doing, babe? Trying to kill me?”
He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and yanked the CAT punch from her weakened grip, tossing it over to his partner. She looked up at the man still straddling his bike to see an amused expression.
Not good, Jackie. Not good at all.
The biker holding her slowly relaxed his grip and turned her around to face him. Although he looked pissed as hell, he didn’t appear to be ready to kill her right away. He just stared down at her face as if searching for something. Then he shook his head as if he hadn’t found it and sighed.
“That was
stupid. You know that, right?” he asked.
Evidently he wasn’t expecting her to answer because he turned her back around, jerked off her cap, and shoved the helmet on her head the other biker handed him from out of his saddle bag before patting the seat behind his friend.
“Climb on, darling. No getting out of it now.”
Jackie had ridden the back of a bike enough to know how to get on and what to keep her feet and legs away from, but those had been consensual rides where she was more than happy to hang on tight to the guy doing the driving. This was riding on the back of a stranger’s bike she hadn’t wanted to get on in the first place, knowing she had to wrap her arms around him or risk falling off.
Weighing road rash against getting up close and personal with a man who could melt your panties off with a single word didn’t really present much of a choice. Even if the man was a biker, she liked her skin intact, so without being prompted, Jackie wrapped her arms around the man and prayed they actually did stop at the garage in town.
“You good with the pack or do you want me to take it for you?” the other biker asked.
“I’m good. Thanks,” she added as an afterthought.
She figured being nice and polite couldn’t hurt. It might not help, but it sure as fuck couldn’t hurt. Right?
As soon as the other man had gotten back on his bike, sans helmet, they started their bikes without one word and pulled back onto the road, heading in the right direction. At least one thing was going her way. She prayed it wouldn’t be the last.
* * * *