Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
When three big, tattooed bikers buy me from the auction block, it sends shivers of fear and excitement down my spine. Trading my innocence is the only way to guarantee my sister’s safety, but men like them could eat a good girl like me alive.
If I’m lucky.
I’ve heard all the stories about the Screaming Eagles MC and how they rule South Side with an iron fist, so I expect the worst, never imagining that Quickshot, Badass and Animal are about to become my very unlikely heroes.
They are men on a mission and tonight, their mission is me.
Quickshot has grown up in the club, going from reckless prospect to the kind of man who can cooly put a bullet between your eyes from a block away. But when he has me in his hands, his easy smile and his pale blue gaze makes the violence under his surface easy to forget. His icy confidence and clever touch turn me burning hot.
Badass lives up to his name, an ex-MMA fighter who’s never met a problem he can’t solve with his fists. He’s rough and brutal, but fiercely loyal to those he loves. Especially to Animal, the younger brother Badass was helpless to defend when he needed it most. Rough in life and rough in bed, he knows exactly how to drive me right up to the edge before he sends me over it like a rollercoaster.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
NATALIE
"I'm gonna have to see some ID there, miss." Heavy metal booms out of the doors behind the bouncer at the Eagles’ Roost and echoes off the walls across the street.
He folds his muscled arms over his broad chest and looks down at me with stern, dark eyes made even more imposing by the white scars that slash across his face, straight through his right eyebrow and continuing down his cheek.
I shudder to think what might’ve caused them, but they do nothing to detract from his high cheekbones, strong jaw and lips that look ready to kiss a girl senseless.
“What? Oh, right.” I snap out of it and flash him my driver's license, while I stretch up on my toes to see over his shoulder into the bar. This is exactly the kind of place my little sister shouldn't be if she's going to get her life back on track. She promised me she’d gotten rid of her fake ID. Guess not.
He picks the card out of my fingers with a quick grab. His tattooed arms flex as he aims a flashlight down to read. "Twenty-two? Really? This fucking real? You don't look twenty-two."
"Of course it's real! Come on. Do I look like I’m here to party? I just need to pick up my little sister." Who for some reason—even though she was the one who called for me to come pick her up—is nowhere to be seen.
He grins mischievously as he pulls his long hair out of his eyes. "You look plenty good to me, but if you're not a paying customer, maybe I shouldn't even be letting you in."
"Please! I don't have time for this."
The glint in his eyes makes it almost seem like he's flirting, but there’s no way a guy like him would flirt with me. He’s rough and wild, just like this bar. I could totally see him leaning against the counter with a bottle in his hand and a girl on his arm, but that girl’s not me. Five minutes together and he’d find out I can’t string two sentences together with a hot guy.
Maybe it's the desperation in my tone, or just that there are more people lining up behind me, but he relents and returns my license. "Go ahead, but save a dance for me." And then he winks over a cocky smirk that probably has him drowning in pussy when he wants it.
Yeah, that’s not going to be happening. I’m just grabbing Sandra and getting us the hell out of here. I have to be at work in the morning, and Ramona isn't known for her mercy. Apprentices are a dime a dozen for one of the top bakers in the city.
“I just need to…”
“Not stopping you.” The bouncer moves only a tiny bit to the side, forcing me to squeeze past him if I want to get into the bar. I'm sure it's on purpose. I shift back and forth on my feet, trying to decide what would be less embarrassing to press against him—butt or boobs. Butt, I guess?
The only padding I feel when I push past is me, because he’s rock muscly hard. It's with a hint of both relief and regret when I finally pop through, leaving him behind.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, and find him looking my way with a wolfish gaze. When he notices, his smirk widens into a grin, and I snap my attention away and duck inside before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
The bar’s bigger than I expected, and packed with rowdy-looking people. There’s so much denim and leather it could be a cowboy bar, but the undercurrent of motor oil and exhaust suggests motorcycles instead of horses. Not to mention the jackets and vests with patches that say stuff like Ungrateful Bastards, Black Squad, or Screaming Eagles. Yep, definitely bikers. I don’t know much about them aside from what I’ve seen on the news, but even I can figure it out.
And it’s definitely not the kind of place Sandra should be.
“Nice ass, sweetheart. Wanna back it up over here?” a guy with a beard that could rival Santa’s says with a chuckle.
He laughs harder when I ignore him to push through. These guys aren't classy, that's for sure. Where the heck is Sandra?
I squeeze around a pool table, just as one of the players pulls back his cue and breaks. The crack of the balls scattering startles me right into the arms of a muscular wall with arms and legs. He catches me easily and looks down like a fisherman examining what he's got on his hook.
"Fuck, usually I have to make the first move, but here you are." He smiles, and my mind goes blank. He's got a square superhero jaw and a nose that looks like it’s seen a few fists. His dark eyes are startlingly similar to the bouncer’s and the rest of him is built like a superhero too. His black T-shirt is stretched across a chest so broad that I could probably use his biker vest as a cloak.