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Authors: London Casey,Ana W. Fawkes

Game

BOOK: Game
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To save her life, I had to win the fight. To keep her
alive, I'll have to get her pregnant.

 

This is all just a

 

GAME
is the author of the bestselling rockstar romance series

Karolyn
is the author of the bestselling rockstar romance series
BROTHERS
OF ROCK
. Under the pen name
London Casey
, she has written the chart
topping motorcycle romance series
BACK DOWN DEVIL MC
.

 

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t miss any releases from Karolyn
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~*~

 

Ana
is the
author of the bestselling motorcycle romance serial series,
DEVIL CALL MC
.
Other projects have included BY HIS COMMAND, FULL MOON MERCY, & RAW RIVER
WILD.

 

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t miss out on *new
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GAME

 

To save her life,
I had to win the fight. To keep her alive, I'll have to get her pregnant.

 

The second I see
Shayna, I know she doesn

t
deserve to be mixed up in this world. Innocent, beautiful... being used as a
prize.

She

s looking for answers in all the
wrong places and I have to get her out of there.

So I do what I do
best: I fight and I win.

 

When I take my
prize home, my boss is waiting for me and gives me an ultimatum: get Shayna
pregnant. If I don't, we both die. If I do it, he's going to snatch the baby
away to replace his own lost grandchild.

 

We aren

t supposed to fall for each
other...but our time together becomes something more powerful than I could ever
imagine. And when Shayna tells me she

s
pregnant, I know one thing for sure
… 
no
one's taking our child away.

1.

 

(Finn)

 

I was drunk when I first saw her,
and I joked with myself that if I talked to her, she

d probably be the death of me. An hour later, with
three guns pointed at me - as I held her hostage -
it turned out
maybe
I was right.

 

2.

 

(Shayna)

 

I hated the smell of concrete.
Especially wet concrete. They were nice enough to spray a hose on the floor and
wash the blood down a drain in the middle of the floor. The place used to be
some kind of industrial repair shop or something. The drain had been used for
oil and chemicals, and to wash the floor, but probably never intended for
blood, teeth, chips of bones, even brains. No lie. Human brains.

Zander was like a king in his high
court, standing above the people, waving with his fat wrists and fatter
fingers; gold rings so tight around his fingers they turned purple. I swore
that one day his fingers were all going to just fall off.

They never did though.

He sweat so much he had someone
stand behind him with a rag to dab his neck and forehead when needed.

I stood to his left, in nothing but
a skimpy top and too tight black pants. The shirt was low cut, and lucky for me
I was at least allowed to wear a bra. Some of the women weren

t. Those who had smaller chests
were told to go braless because it looked better. For me, the one time I tried,
Zander told me my breasts hung too low. Like I needed to hear that. I wasn

t even thirty and my boobs were
sagging?

Then again, what did it matter? I
was two feet deep in organized crime and had no promise of tomorrow. Hell, I
had no promise of an hour. Not with what I was looking for. From day one, my
mother always pointed at me and told me I was looking for trouble.

It was just in my nature, I guess.

But sometimes, trouble just came to
me.

Standing there, trying to be as
invisible as possible, I looked down and met eyes with
him.
He stood well
over six feet tall, a leather jacket pulled tight against wide shoulders, with
a dirty looking t-shirt under that. He froze and looked up at me. Our eyes met
and I felt my lip curl. His lips puckered just a little, mister
oh-so-cool
,
and then he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

And he just stood there, staring at
me. Like he owned me. Like he could possess me at a distance.

Good luck.


You
want to fuck him?

a voice
growled next to me.

I blinked and looked at Zander.

What? Who?


Fuck
boy down there,

he said,
his accent rumbling like a mean thunder.

You
want to fuck him. That

s
what you look for.


No.


Then
fine,

Zander said.

Then I fuck him. He

s going to fight.

My heart jumped.

I think I just got that guy
killed

 

3.

 

(Finn)

 

I felt a hand clamp down on my
shoulder. Before that, I saw the reflection of the big guy coming at me. See,
if I turned too quick, there was a chance he could pull a gun or take a cheap
shot. I was built tough but not out of metal. A punch could kill me as easily
as a punch could kill an eight foot man. What made me good was my ability to
sense and react. Even if I was a few drinks deep. Even if I was at some
warehouse-garage thing with a bunch of foreigners all looking to make money on
fights. For once, I was supposed to be the spectator, not the fighter.

Until that goddamn hand clamped
down on my goddamn shoulder.

My buddy Cormac was next to me,
rambling about some debt he had to settle and some guy he wanted to punch for
messing around with a woman he wanted to fuck. I kept my focus steady and the
second the hand clamped on my shoulder, I spun, ready to attack.

I swung my beer glass and slammed
it against the son of a bitch

s
head. It exploded, spraying dark beer everywhere. My hand started to bleed
instantly from the glass, but the guy who touched me had it worse. He stumbled
back and looked shocked as shit. He touched his head and there was a large
shard of glass sticking out of it.


You
cut me,

he said.


You
fucking touched me,

I
replied.

By then Cormac entered the frame.

He loved to fight as much as me. He
didn

t do it like I did
though. I was underground. I was illegal. I flirted with death as wildly as I
did with a woman with a nice pair of tits.

Speaking of which

how about that dark
haired beauty up on the ledge

?


What
the fuck are ya doing?

Cormac spat.

The man I hit touched the glass in
his head.

It

s got me. It

s stuck me.

His accent cracked as he talked.


Ah,
you baby,

another man
said.

He came up behind the first guy and
grabbed him by the hair. He then grabbed the piece of glass and pulled it from
the guy

s head.


There,
now you

re unstuck.

The wounded guy dropped to his
knees and groaned.


He

ll be fine,

the other guy said. He smiled
and then quickly pulled a gun. He pointed it right at me.

You, motherfucker, you get to
come with me. And leave your friend behind.

I looked at Cormac and shrugged my
shoulders.

I looked back at the guy.

Can I at least get a fresh beer?

Christ, if a man was going to die,
he should have either thick beer or the sweet taste between a woman

s legs on his lips. Right?

 

~ ~ ~

 

I sat down and a chair slowly
turned. The man in the chair was large. Not muscular large but too many chicken
fingers large. That kind of guy. He stunk of enemy, something I never
understood when my boss, Fiore, would tell me I stunk of Irish filth. He always
did it with a smile though.

This big guy stunk bad and was not
smiling.

Neither was I.


You
look familiar,

he said,
his accent almost as heavy as him.


You
don

t,

I said.


Why
are you here?


Enjoying
the action. Isn

t that what
we

re all here for?


You
smashed a glass on one of my associate

s
heads.


He
touched me.


You
don

t like to be touched?


Not
by that guy,

I said with a
grin.


What
about someone else?

the
man said and snapped his fingers.

The door opened behind me and
she
walked in.
She
being eyes and tits that had been staring down at me.
Christ, she was even more stunning in person. That shirt tugged tight to her
tick-tock body. Her dark hair down, her eyes looked at me for a second and then
away.


You
want her to touch you?

the
man asked.


Who
wouldn

t?


Perv,

the woman whispered from the
corner of her mouth.

I grinned and watched her strut by
me.


Eyes
forward,

the man said.

A hand then touched my head and
hair. I started to move my left hand and I was stopped. The man behind the desk
took out a gun and waved a finger.


Don

t move. You

ll be killed.

I gritted my teeth.

What the fuck do you want?


You

re a fighter. You fight with
another crew.


Maybe.


You
come here to fight?


No.


Then
what are you doing here?


I
came for a few drinks,

I
said.

To watch some
fights. To fuck someone in the bathroom. Maybe take a piss.

The man growled and the room shook.

Who do you fight for?


Myself.


You

re someone

s toy,

the man said.

Tell
me your name.


Fuck
you.

The hand on my head squeezed. Pain
surged through my skull. My eyes shook for a second.


Finn,

I said.

My name is Finn. Okay?


Who
do you fight for?


I

m not
…”

The hand squeezed again. The hot
pain shot down to my neck. But I held it off.


Tough
guy,

the big, smelly guy
behind the desk said. He then stood up. He pointed the gun at the woman next to
him. Pressing the gun right to her neck.

I

ll kill her.

The pain grew and grew. I was used
to pain though. I knew how to navigate the waters of pain. The only thing that
would take me down is my body

s
natural reaction to it. A human could only take so much before his body breaks
down. My mind could take anything.

I sucked in a breath and stayed
with the throbbing waves.

I looked at the big guy. I looked
at the woman. Her eyes were wide. She stared at me, wanting me to be her
savior.


Do
it,

I said.

Kill her.

 

BOOK: Game
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