Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (40 page)

My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. He’d answered the question that had been on my mind since learning I was pregnant. Taylor loved his club, but if push came to shove, he’d choose me if he had to.

“So, what do bikers like to eat?” I asked, wondering how much food we were going to need to prepare for this shindig he was talking about.

He grinned wickedly. “Besides pussy? Anything that goes good with beer.”

I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was just as sick as he was, but I had to laugh.

****

The End

Thank you for reading this novella, Taming the Biker. It was written specifically for this Anthology. I hope you’ve enjoyed!

Interested in reading more about the bikers in Jensen? Book one in this series, Resisting the Biker, Cassie Alexandra, is free at most eBook stores.

Book Order:
Resisting The Biker
Surviving The Biker
Fearing The Biker
Breaking The Biker

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TBPEPEW/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb

Twenty-one-year-old college student, Adriana Nikolas, doesn't really know what to make of Raptor, the sexy biker who seems to be obsessed with getting into her pants. Hot or not, she knows from their first encounter that he's dangerous, both in and out of bed.
What Raptor wants, Raptor gets. Right now, he wants Adriana and will do whatever it takes to claim her as his woman. But, she keeps resisting, which isn't something that the Road Captain of the Gold Vipers is accustomed to. Arrogant, cocky, and stubborn, Raptor takes on the challenge, and in the meantime, gets much more than what he'd bargained for.
Meanwhile, Slammer, President of the Gold Vipers, seeks justice for the rape of his Old Lady's daughter.

Read them all? Keep an eye out for Loving The Biker, available sometime this spring of 2016 (Pre-order not yet available).

Other books written by author (under pen name, K.L. Middleton)

Tangled Beauty
Tangled Mess
Tangled Fury
Sharp Edges

Follow Cassie Alexandra on Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/Cassie-Alexandra-504545409643374/

a

By C.J. Pinard

Copyright 2016 C.J. Pinard

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements:

Cover design by: Kellie Dennis @ Book Cover By Design

Dedication:

This is for Emma, queen of the brainstorm.

PROLOGUE

Eight Years Ago

He looked left, then right, trying to ensure the coast was clear. The spray paint can in his right hand heated as his sweaty palm struggled to keep a grip on it. The muggy Florida night hung heavy all around him. He knew wearing a hoodie and jeans in July wasn’t smart, yet, he knew he needed to blend into the shadows as easily as possible. He sucked in a breath of humid air and glanced around one more time for assurance. Not seeing anyone, he looked back at his buddies, giving the nod that all was clear. The four of them stepped out of the alley, staying close to the brick wall at the back of the large sports supply mega-store.

A streetlamp that was supposed to project light and protection to the back of the store had long since burned out, and dumpsters were already overflowing with trash. The stench was overwhelming, but they paid it no mind.

As his buddy, Ripper, went to work on the padlock of the grated door barring entrance into the store, he shook the spray can and began to tag the back of the building.

O A B bitches!
he wrote in black paint. He stepped back and looked at it, just as Ripper spoke, breaking him out of the admiration of his handiwork.

“Fuckin’ got it!”

He looked over to see Ripper punch the air with his fist, his gloved hand matching his black hoodie. His jeans were dirty and torn, and his designer tennis shoes had seen better days.

He grinned and chucked the spray paint can into the overflowing dumpster. He followed Ripper and the other two inside the store.

All the lights were off, and the store was eerily quiet. The first thing he saw was rows of kayaks up against the entire back wall, their accompanying paddles set neatly in the row holes on each one.

“Hurry up!” Ripper barked, looking back at him and the other two.

Looking up, he stared at the signs hanging from the ceiling, indicating the different departments. He could easily see that they were heading toward the firearms and weapons department. His stomach summersaulted in excitement and nervousness.

The store was dimly lit, but there were a few low lights on throughout, giving them just enough illumination to see around. He turned toward Ripper’s voice and saw they were standing at a glass display case full of every kind of gun and weapon you could want. Handguns, shotguns, rifles, crossbows, buck knives, and bows and arrows were displayed beautifully under the glittering glass.

“LT, it’s your turn,” Ripper said, piercing him with a challenging brown stare, a crowbar held out in front of him.

He looked down at the proffered weapon and then back into Ripper’s commanding eyes. Nodding, he took the crowbar and licked his lips before taking a step back, winding the crowbar around like a bat he was ready to hit a homerun with.

“Stand back,” he said over his shoulder to the other three.

They took a step back as he swung the crowbar with all his might. An ear-splitting crash filled the quiet store. His elation at breaking the glass on the first try was quickly drowned out by the wailing alarm that followed. A blaring red light accompanied the alarm from out of the gun case, flashing on and off like a police siren.

The store’s floodlights soon popped on, and another siren began to screech.

“Oh shit!” Ripper said. “Grab as many as you can and let’s get the fuck outta here!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up a smooth black Beretta 9mm and three boxes of bullets. He then shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants and the bullets into the pockets of his hoodie.

Running with all they had toward the back door, the four of them made it into the alley, the warm humid night hitting them in the face as they ran.

Police sirens screamed in the distance, causing their adrenaline to pump even harder until they reached the end of the alley.

“Call you assholes later!” Ripper hollered as the four of them went their separate ways, heading home or wherever they spent their nights.

He yawned and opened his eyes, blinking against the piercing light of the morning sun streaming in through his partially open curtains. Remembering the night before, his eyes flew open and he immediately reached under his pillow to see if his new Beretta was still there. He sighed in relief when his hand wrapped around the warm metal.

Pulling it out, he examined the gun more closely than he had last night. Its black body gleamed in the morning sun. He locked the slide to the rear and looked inside. He fiddled with the magazine release until it fell out into his hand and saw it was empty. He glanced over at his chest of drawers, as he remembered putting the boxes of bullets in his underwear drawer.

Glancing at his bedroom door, he flipped the thin blanket aside and went over to the chest and slowly opened the top drawer. Moving his underwear aside, he saw the three boxes of 9mm bullets. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. He and Ripper and the other two from the OAB had gotten away with it. He was thrilled to have his very own piece to carry around for protection – and when the need arose, intimidation.

“Ellis! Get down here!” he heard his mother call.

He sighed, setting the gun and bullets back into his drawer, covering them up with the undergarments. Pulling on the jeans that were lying in a heap on the floor, he fastened the button and slogged down the stairs.

His mother was in her waitress uniform, spooning hash browns and eggs onto a plate. A cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth.

“You’re going to be late for school,” she murmured through a hazy blue cloud of smoke.

He coughed and resisted the urge to wave the smoke away. He loathed the smell and looked forward to the day he could move out of his mother’s house.

“I don’t give a shit about school,” he murmured, squeezing ketchup onto his eggs and hash browns.

He flinched when his mother’s palm made contact with the back of his head. “Boy, you go to school, you graduate, then you can do whatever the hell you want. Until that happens, these are my damn rules. And watch your mouth in my house.”

She glared at him before crushing the cigarette out into a nearby ashtray.

He said nothing, just shoveled more food into his mouth, hoping she’d just leave. She headed for the door and opened it. She stepped out into the morning sun, but before closing the door, she pointed a blood-red fingernail at him, her eyes narrowed. “If I get another frickin’ call from the school that you’ve ditched, I’m gonna beat your ass when I get home. You hear me, boy?”

He sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, Ma.”

“Good.”

She slammed the door and Ellis flipped her off after it was closed.

He went to school… barely. He was still hungover from the cheap beer Ripper had manipulated a pretty girl at the corner store to buy for them before they had hit the sports supply store last night.

As he sat at the dining room table staring at his backpack, which was full of homework he most likely wouldn’t be doing, he grinned in triumph at his conquest from the night before.

He was in his senior year and wasn’t even sure how he’d made it this far. He had continually given each teacher hell every year, learning at an early age that if he was a holy terror in each classroom, the teacher would pass him onto the next grade just to get rid of him.

He startled when the door opened and his mother came walking through, dressed in her uniform, just like she had been that morning.

“Son, how was your day?” she asked.

He looked at her weary blue eyes and wrinkling tanned skin, almost feeling sorry for her. She’d lived a hard life and he knew that he was all she had. Still, he couldn’t wait to move away from home and be on his own. She pulled her bleached blonde hair out of its ponytail, set her purse down on a worn kitchen chair, and lit a cigarette.