Final Ride (Lords of Mayhem)

Final Ride

Shyla
Colt

Book 4 in the Lords of Mayhem series.

Hilary writes romantic suspense novels for a living, but she
never expected to end up living one. Through research and interviews, she’s
compiled enough information to topple a dangerous and powerful group of men. An
attempt on her life compels her to turn to the Lords of Mayhem for protective
custody under the wing of the club’s Vice President Hawk Bearpaw. Against her
better judgment, she finds herself falling for the club’s culture and the man
tasked with her protection.

Hawk curses his luck when he’s saddled with the sassy, outspoken
bombshell. But his mind quickly changes when he kisses her into silence. The
sex is insanely good, but he can’t forget she’s from a different world. He
knows she’ll return to her world once the danger has passed. He just needs to
make sure she doesn’t take his heart with her.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and
scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

An
adult contemporary romance
from Ellora’s Cave.

Shyla Colt

Glossary

Church—What members of a motorcycle club call their
meetings.

Cut—Vest worn by motorcycle club members.

House Mouse—Girl who cleans up and does chores. Depending on
her temperament she can be given as a gift to an old lady.

MC—Motorcycle club.

Old Lady—Like a wife/long-term girlfriend.

Sweetheart/Sweetie—Girlfriend or someone a biker is dating.

Sweetbutt—A girl who hangs around the club and is always
available for sex. Can be the “property of” one of the members.

Positions

President—Leader of the chapter.

Vice President—Second in charge. Fills in when president isn’t
around.

Sergeant at Arms—Basically the club’s policeman. He enforces
club policy and procedures in meetings.

Enforcers—There to help the sergeant at arms do his job.
They often stand guard at meetings.

Secretary—Responsible for the club’s paperwork, including
club records.

Treasurer—The chapter’s money man. He collects club fees,
pays bills, etc.

The Wise One—He often looks after the club’s spiritual
needs. He’s often referred to as the chaplain.

Road Captain—He’s usually in charge of the logistics of the
club, including planning routes, fuel stops, etc.

Asst. Road Captain—Assists the road captain.

Patch Members (Riders)—Members who’ve earned the right to
wear the club’s color after paying their dues as a prospect. They’re also known
as patches or members.

Nomad—A club member who doesn’t belong to any particular
chapter.

Prospect—Man in training to become a member of a motorcycle
club after a probationary period.

Chapter One

Hilary Huffman closed down the microfilm machine as the
weight of the world settled onto her shoulders. She threw herself into research
because it busied her mind. When she was neck-deep in facts, the bitter divorce
her parents were in the middle of and her loneliness remained at bay. Now
everything came rushing back full force as the rickety mental dam she’d erected
broke. Her career was thriving, but everything else seemed to be unraveling at
the seams. Her parents’ marriage, the closeness she felt with her friends, even
her own security.

With her circle coupled up, getting married and having
children, she was in that odd place where she wasn’t sure what to say or how to
relate. Between the tug-of-war her parents were putting her through during
their divorce and her own insanity, she was barely treading water. Being in a
relationship had never been a must for her. She led a full, successful and
mostly joy-filled life. She loved her job as writer, had a close circle of
friends and up until recently a solid family unit. Now everything was changing.

She felt the distance creeping in between her and her three
closest friends keenly. Their lives were changing while hers remained the same.
You got bedlam when you tossed in the havoc caused by her best friend Juliette’s
deceased ex-fiance, Peter, a man so obsessed he’d made it his life’s mission to
possess her. His goal had been the first domino knocked over in an array of
fucked-up things. He and his three other psycho best friends formed a club
based on sexual deviancy, control, manipulation and games of power.

They more than dabbled in human trafficking. They’d set up
shop in the city under everyone’s noses. The names they had on the books for
clients made them dangerous.

People would do anything to keep their secrets from coming
out in the wash. Peter, the abusive ex of her best friend Juliette, had been
murdered in a holding cell before his trial. The drama should’ve ended there.
It didn’t. His partners were ruthless but loyal. They had killed him to make
sure their secrets were kept, but remained determined to seek revenge. The kind
of desperation and influence they shared scared the hell out of her. The men
involved in the sex trafficking ring wanted to fight back with force. She
preferred knowledge. Which was why she’d begun to look into Peter’s past and
his companions. Safety could only be achieved with them out of the picture for
good.

Specs and Gadget, the club hackers discovered the identity of
the men who ran the private sex trade operation and brought it to the Lords of
Mayhem. Now she was on to something even more important. She gathered her
things, hefted the strap of her satchel onto her shoulder and exited the
library, marveling at how quickly the time had passed. Day had yielded to
night, and the moon hung high in the sky. She found her black luxury sedan and
slipped inside, thanking the car gods for seat warmer.
I need to bring the
identity of the other girls they tortured to Specs and Gadget.
The club computer
specialistshad become close friends and confidants.

Their brains worked the same.
I never thought I’d be
living a suspense novel.
She rummaged through her bag to find her phone.
She wanted to make sure they had time to talk with her before she made the
drive to their new complex. After the older structure had been compromised,
they’d relocated to a more spacious and remote location.

Spread across many acres of woods, the base had an almost
campground feel to it. More than a dozen cabins had been built close together
around a main lodge. The isolation provided more protection, which meant less
scrutiny and more freedom. Something they all needed desperately after being on
lockdown in the smaller safe house weeks earlier. The phone slipped from her
hands.

Shit
. She bent down to grab the slippery rectangle.
Thwack.
Ping.
The noise made her freeze. She frowned.
What the hell?
It came
again. Tiny particles fell into her hair. Realization dawned.
I’m being shot
at.
She shoved her thin frame into the cramped space between the driver’s
seat and the pedals. Fear set in like rigor mortis, stiffening her limbs. Blood
rushed through her veins. Her vision blackened around the edges. Her legs
shook. Wet trails ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her clothing. The quiet
cracks continued followed by the tinkle of glass.
Please God, don’t let me
die here like this.

An eternity later, the assault ended, and she cautiously
lifted her head to see her surroundings. Tiny slivers of glass scraped her
palms as she balanced her weight against the leather seats. People surrounded
her car. Their voices were distorted and worn as if they had been recorded on a
chewed cassette tape. They sounded like they were speaking from a great
distance despite their proximity. She read their lips.
Are you okay?
She
nodded dumbly. They opened the door and helped her outside. Shivering, she
allowed herself to be guided back into the library where she plopped down into
a chair.
I’m the next target.

She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

* * * * *

“Ma’am, can you think of any reason why someone would want
to harm you?” the officer asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

Anger and indignation rose up, chasing away the fear that
had held her normally sharp tongue and rendered her meek and silent. “Yes,
Officer Brown, I’m positive. Is this how the police handle cases now? By
blaming the victim? If so, I must say I’m not impressed. In fact, I’m quite
worried that you’ll never catch the people terrorizing the law-abiding citizens
of this city.”

“We can’t help you unless you tell us everything,” his
partner, Officer Ryan, said.

“I did,” she said through clenched teeth.
So this is what
good cop, bad cop looks like in real life.

“Okay, in case you remember anything else, we’ll be leaving
a card,” Officer Ryan said. She followed his gaze to the group of men standing
in front of the bikes lined up in the parking lot. Her only option had been to
text Specs and Gadget about what happened. She’d never been so happy to hear
the sound of motorcycles in her life. The Lords of Mayhem had become her safety
net. Despite their rough exteriors and less than savory business dealings, they
were family. The thought sobered her.
The girls aren’t the only ones
changing.

Frustrated by the situation she stood. “Am I free to go
now?”

“For now, but we’ll expect you down at the station tomorrow
to make a full statement.”

“The interrogation I just underwent doesn’t count?” she
scoffed. The policemen had been all kindness and concern until Mayhem showed
up. Now they thought she was some sort of biker bunny or mule for drugs. She
could see the judgment form in their eyes. It sickened her. The men behind the
rash of violence were highly respected in local society. Wealthy, handsome and
from good families, they could get away with murder because.
They almost got
away with mine.
Giving the cops the cold shoulder, she walked out of the
library.

The sight of the red caution tape and the CSI crew gathering
glass as a flatbed truck took her car away made her weak in the knees. Reality
slammed into her.

She’d grown pretty close to Gadget and Specs, so she headed
in their direction. It was Hawk, who stepped away from the rest of them and
blocked her progress.

“You’re riding with me.”

She looked up at the gruff voice and froze at the fierce
male named Hawk. There were members who put her on edge, but none quite as much
as Hawk. With his high cheekbones, bronze skin, and a strong jawline, he looked
every inch the proud warrior his name suggested. She’d never had an in-depth
conversation with him, but she was fairly sure he had a healthy dose of Native
American blood running through his veins.

She opened her mouth to protest.

“It wasn’t a question.” He crossed his arms over his
chiseled chest. His biceps flexed. She watched the intricate dreamcatcher
etched onto his skin wave as if blown by an invisible wind. She nodded, unable
to speak around the lump in her throat. He’d never been rude, but she got the
distinct feeling she irritated him. Biting her bottom lip to hide its
trembling, she followed him to the bike and climbed on behind him. Someone had
installed a seat on the back she knew hadn’t been there before. She wrapped her
arms around his waist as he started up the engine.

His warm hand covered hers and she tensed. “Going to have to
hold on tighter than that unless you want to fly off.” She squeezed his waist.
“Better.”

He took off, and she pressed her body against his back. He
smelled like leather and man. The soft material was a gentle caress against her
cheek. Inhaling deeply, she focused on the feel of his muscular body and the
vibrating beast between her legs. Anything to block out the event replaying in
her mind.

They pulled into the new compound and she rejoiced in the
quiet isolated area.
Here I won’t be a sitting duck.
Hawk cut the
engine.

“Get off. I need to back her in.”

Slightly dazed, she stumbled as she got off the bike. His
hands wrapped around her biceps, keeping her upright.

“Shit girl, you’re a mess right now.”

She peered up at him and clutched her fury to her like a
blanket. “I think I’m allowed to be right now.”

“Don’t give me lip. You won’t like how I deal with it,” he
said. His gravelly tone stole her breath away. She blinked and took a step
back. This was not a man to mouth off to. She knew it, but she couldn’t stop
baiting him.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the
others into a cabin a distance away. Her stomach clenched.
Where is he
taking me?
He unlocked the door, and she hesitated in the threshold.

“Get inside. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day, don’t
you think?”

His words stung. She slunk inside like a puppy with its tail
between its legs. He closed the door behind her and leaned against it, studying
her with a narrowed gaze. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“If I knew I would. I left the library, got into my car and
almost got my brains blown out.”

“For no reason?” he said skeptically.

She pursed her lips. “I have an idea why.”

“You care to share? ‘Cause I’m not getting any younger.”

Her stomach churned. “Shouldn’t Tiny be here?” she asked
stalling as she asked about the club president. The calm man put her at ease.
This snarky vice president, not so much.

“He’s taking care of his heavily pregnant wife. I’m the one
in charge of you. Now talk.”

“I found some information that could be damaging to Emmit
and Linden’s operation,” she said, eager to take down the bastards who’d nearly
killed her friends. The two men were the last ones keeping the sex-trade business
alive. The group of four started as indulged rich, entitled sadistic frat boys.
Until they crossed a line and invested their money in a sick and twisted
business that allowed them to indulge in their own perversions.

“And you didn’t share this, because?” Hawk asked.

“I wanted to be sure. If I came to you with bunk scuttlebutt
it’d look bad on me and hurt my credibility.”

“You should’ve brought it to the table,” he said shaking his
head.

“It’s not my table.”

“The hell it’s not. You’re under our protection. That means
your stupid decisions directly affect us. You don’t act alone anymore.”

“I didn’t act—”

“You did something. Or do you think you’ve pissed off so
many people that this is unrelated to the sex trade?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. He was right, and she hated him for
it.

“You listening to me?”

“Impossible not to,” she snapped.

He grunted. “Good to see they didn’t completely break you.
But I suggest you tone that shit down.”

She ground her teeth together.
The quicker I tell him
everything. The quicker I can put space between us.
“I did some digging
into the men’s past and I found a pattern. They liked to pick pretty, young,
naïve girls and exploit them. They separated the girls from everything they
knew, broke them down, and trained them to respond as the men saw fit. Fear,
isolation, and physical and mental abuse can cause blind obedience. I saw it
first hand with Juliette. I can’t say they have those girls they choose as
their personal playthings working at the club, but I noticed a change in a few
of them. They pulled out of school and retreated to live damn near reclusive
lives. That’s not normal.”

“Tell me, Carmen Sandiego, what do you think that means?”
Hawk said.

“That these girls were the victims. The ones like Juliette.
The inside information they had would be invaluable. If you want to make a deal
with men like this, you threaten their money. If the girls spilled their guts
we’d be sitting on prime blackmail information. Those men would be so convinced
they had one-hundred-percent control over the girls, they wouldn’t have
bothered to filter what they said and did around them. Arrogance is always the
downfall of the narcissistic. They grow too comfortable and make mistakes.

“I think peace of mind they would get from your protection
would be worth the risk. There’s no way they’re not looking over their shoulder
on a daily basis. As long as the men are out there, they’re not safe. The club
can offer them protection they never imagined having,” she reasoned.

“And you think you’re going to show up wave your magic wand,
throw around some bullshit reverse psychology and get them to spill their
guts.”

“No, but I’m willing to work to gain their trust and be
honest. Mayhem can provide them with a new lease on life.”