Guns n' Boys Book 1 Part 2 (39 page)

Waiting for Dom to get better, Seth had a
chance to look into Dom’s suitcase and was confronted with more
tidy stacks of dollar bills than he could count. That would easily
get them a car, or a caravan maybe, so they wouldn’t have to sleep
in motels.

As long as they managed to get out of the
city, they could get to Mexico. All Seth needed to do in New York
was to pick up the passports. As instructed by Peter, he kept
giving his lover small quantities of cocoa, just so that it would
gather in his mouth as he half-sat, half-lay in the bed under a
thick comforter that smelled of washing powder.

Seth crawled into bed next to Dom and covered
himself with the comforter. Stroking Dom’s cool skin gave him
peace. Reassured him that Dom was still alive.

Seth placed a small kiss on Dom’s pale lips
and when he entwined their fingers, he would have bet his life that
Dom squeezed them back. Dom, the most loyal man of the Family, the
man who had repeatedly shot down the idea of running away together,
had refused a hit on Seth and was ready to find a way out for them
both. Seth remembered how all those months ago, in Berlin, Dom told
him he wouldn’t die for him. It looked like he was now willing to
risk it. Dom had thrown away the only life he knew to be with Seth,
and Seth would make sure Dom never regretted this decision.

They were not a part of the Family anymore,
but Seth would hardly call it freedom.

End of Book 1

Afterword

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About the author

K.A. Merikan
is a joint project of Kat and Agnes Merikan, who jokingly claim to
share one mind. They finish each other’s sentences and
simultaneously come up with the same ideas. Kat and Agnes enjoy
writing various kinds of stories, from light-hearted romance to
thrillers. They love creating characters that are not easy to
classify as good or evil, and firmly believe that even some
villains deserve their happy endings. It is easiest to find them in
galleries, good restaurants and historical sites, always with a
computer or notebook, because for Kat and Agnes, every day is
writing day. Future plans include lots of travel and a villa on the
coast of Italy or a flat in Paris where they could retire after yet
another crazy venture, only to write more hot homoerotic
stories.

Kat and Agnes started as popular authors of
online serials written in their native language, but are now
focused on reaching a wider readership by writing in English. As
K.A. Merikan, they have published a number of books, which cross
genres while always staying homoerotic.

More information about ongoing projects,
works in progress and publishing at:

http:/KAMerikan.com

K.A.
Merikan on Goodreads

Hop on the
bitch seat and go for a dangerous ride

K. A. Merikan

—
Don’t talk to
strangers. —

Zak.
Tattoo
artist. Independent. Doesn’t do relationships.

Stitch.
Outlaw
biker. Deep in the closet. Doesn’t share his property.

On the day of Stitch’s
divorce, lust personified enters the biker bar he’s celebrating at.
Tattooed all over, pierced, confident, and hot as hellfire, Zak is
the bone Stitch has waited for life to throw him. All Stitch wants
is a sniff, a taste, a lick. What follows instead is gluttony of
the most carnal sort, and nothing will ever be the same. Forced to
hide his new love affair from the whole world, Stitch juggles
family, club life, and crime, but it’s only a matter of time until
it becomes too hard.

Zak moves to Lake
Valley in search of peace and quiet, but when he puts his hand into
the jaws of a Hound of Valhalla, life gets all but simple. In order
to be with Stitch, Zak’s biker wet dream, he has to crawl right
back into the closet. As heated as the relationship is, the
secrets, the hiding, the violence, jealousy, and conservative
attitudes in the town rub Zak in all the wrong ways. When
pretending he doesn’t know what his man does becomes impossible,
Zak needs to decide if life with an outlaw biker is really what he
wants.

As club life and the
love affair collide, all that’s left in Zak and Stitch’s life is
mayhem.

POSSIBLE SPOILERS:

Themes:
Outlaw
Motorcycle Club, organized crime, homophobia, family issues, coming
out, first gay relationship, tattoo, piercing

Genre:
contemporary homoerotic dark romance

Length:
~
100,000 words

Contains adult
content:
explicit language, violence, and sex

EXCERPT FROM THE
BOOK

Stitch downed his third beer of the day and
slammed the glass on top of his divorce papers.

“Another?” asked his best friend, Captain,
and Stitch squinted at him. He could never be sure whether Captain
was winking at him or just blinking. The perils of only having one
eye. It didn’t stop Captain from driving a bike like a madman or
being the VP of the club.

“Go on, I earned it,” Stitch rasped and
leaned his elbows on the greasy counter. He could feel at home in
the Hounds of Valhalla club bar. If worse came to worst, he could
always fall asleep in one of the guest rooms in the back and not
have to face going home. The Louisiana heat was getting to him
today so he wore his cut over naked skin, but in hindsight it
hadn't been such a great idea, since now the leather was sticking
to his back.

It was a busy Friday night, and the bar was
full. Most of the patrons were local so Stitch knew them one way or
another, with a few outsiders sprinkled all over the large room.
During public parties like this one, Valhalla catered to everyone,
from old friends, gathered in comfortable booths, to the crowd that
spent their time at the counter, to the drunken dancers by the pool
table. It was more crass than class, but to Stitch it felt like
home, from the beat-up counter to the small room in the back where
Stitch had fucked a girl for the first time. Good times.

Captain poured Stitch some whiskey and
grinned, rubbing down his black beard into a more sensible shape.
“One down, brother. You’ll find yourself a better woman.”

“Of course I will. Not a cheating slut like
Crystal.” Stitch sipped his liquor with a frown.

“You fancy any of the pussy by the pool
table?” Captain gestured toward the ever-present crowd of
hangarounds in sparse clothing. The pool table was off limits on
Fridays, unless you were a member of the Hounds of Valhalla. Or a
hot bitch.

Stitch followed his friend's nod (to keep up
appearances), but he looked right past the girls. He was not
dipping his dick in that lot again. Not to mention that none of the
girls were even his type. Most of the ones who were in today were
cute blondes, like they got the wrong bar or something. That was
what had drawn him to Crystal in the first place, she was all tats
and rock ‘n’ roll.

“Nah, I’ll pass.” Stitch downed his whiskey
and tried to pretend he didn’t see any of the direct looks from the
pool table. The sudden spike in interest could only mean one thing:
they all knew he was back on the market. “Where’s the rum,
Captain?” he said, but his mouth remained open when someone new
walked into the bar and stopped at the door, looking around as if
he had lost his way. The dimmed blue light made all the tattoos on
the stranger’s arms pop out immediately, and while Stitch couldn’t
see what the patterns were, the ink was dense, mostly black and
white.

The man was tall enough to stand out in the
crowd, slim but toned. He walked through the bar with a
self-assured sway, looking like a character from a futuristic
movie. Stitch didn’t know where that comparison came from because
the guy wore a simple outfit consisting of narrow pants stuck into
knee-length combat boots, and a tank top, but he did look like an
outsider in the old-school biker bar. His hair was pitch-black,
with shaved sides and the long strands at the top of his head
gathered into a ponytail. There was a sly smile tugging at the
corners of his lips as he approached Stitch of all people.

A silly grin surfaced onto Stitch’s face like
a dead body floating in the bayou. That would be his choice of
‘pussy’ if he could have his way. He knew it wasn’t gonna happen,
yet he still straightened up on the bar stool far too small to
properly hold his bulky body and turned to the stranger. The man
was first to speak, but he looked past Stitch as if he were made of
glass.

“Hi, how are you doing?” he asked in a rich,
velvety voice, reaching out to shake the hand of Joe, one of the
Hounds of Valhalla’s prospects, currently serving at the bar. He
had short, blond hair and a small gap between his front teeth.
Stitch always saw him as a younger brother he never had.