HARDCORE: Storm MC(56)

Sienna and I had married a couple of months earlier, but we had planned it for a full year. That she had gotten pregnant was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, and the timing of the wedding really had nothing to do with the babies.



Babies! Two! That had been a shock. But a perfect one. You could not have found a more joyful—okay, and a little freaked-out—man on the planet than me.



I had a woman whom I loved beyond my wildest dreams, and we were now the proud parents of the two most perfect babies.



Yeah, yeah, I knew that there would be tough times ahead. Life was no easy ride. I got it.



But man, I was blessed. Every day. With my woman, with my life. And I would never stop showing her my gratitude and love.



Even when she gave me lip.



THE END



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(Bonus Novel #1) A PRICE TO PAY: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

By Zoey Parker





We’ll both pay the price for crossing the line.



There are some things in this world a man should never do.

But as far as I’m concerned, the rules can go f*ck themselves.

I’m Cain Vale.

I do whatever the hell I want.



Of course, that’s part of the reason I ended up in this situation:

Bleeding from a cracked skull, as a lifetime of naked sluts and roaring bikes flashes before my eyes.

A life well lived, but I’m not ready for it to be over just yet.



Not when there’s revenge to be dealt.



Once I’m back on my feet, the men who betrayed me will pay dearly for their crimes.

They will suffer.

Scream.

Beg for my mercy.



But my injuries are worse than I thought.

Until I can ride again, my president tasks his kid sister with helping me recover.

What she doesn’t know is that, while she’s in my household, she’ll live on my terms.



She’ll please me.

She’ll taste me.



And by the time I’m finished, she’ll know how it feels to be owned.





Prologue



The pistol in Missy Dermott’s hands was slick with sweat as she waited for Death to find her.



She had pulled the shower curtain closed and was hunkered down in the bathtub, hearing her own panicked breathing echoing off the ceramic just inches from her ears.



She stared at the tiny motel bottles of shampoo and body wash standing on the edge of the tub like blank-faced soldiers marching to their doom, and thought about how unpardonably stupid she had been.



Missy told herself that she should have known this was a trap—the brutal kind with rusty metal teeth that would tear her whole world into bloody chunks the moment it snapped shut.



She'd spent her entire life around her brother and the rest of the Blood Eagles, and even though her gender meant she'd never become an Eagle herself, she'd still absorbed enough of their outlaw mentality that her antennae were always up and twitching, ready to warn her when danger was closing in. That keen awareness she'd cultivated had saved her from lots of arrests and hazards in the past.



Today, though, when she'd needed it the most, it had deserted her. And why?



Because she'd been distracted. Because on the day when it mattered most, her mind and her heart hadn't been focused on what they should have. Because she'd actually been dumb enough to believe that when happiness came knocking at the door, even a hardass like her deserved the chance to invite it in without worrying whether it was hiding a knife behind its back.



And now she'd pay the price for it, along with everyone she'd ever cared about.



Drops of condensation formed and rolled down the inside of the tub, and Missy realized she was still breathing hard against its milky surface. She closed her eyes and willed herself to take slow, deep breaths. Loud gasping and panting would only betray her location more quickly.



Death was coming.



Not a metaphor, but a man with a singular purpose. Every second brought the increased certainty that he was getting closer with each step, scenting the night air for her, ready to draw back the shower curtain and reach in and snatch away her life before she had time to blink.



Missy knew that the gun in her hands might not be enough to stop Death when it came for her. But she'd fired plenty of guns in her life. She was a damn good shot, and she intended to do everything she could to put a bullet between its eyes before it had a chance to take her. One well-placed bullet—that's all it would take. One bullet could be the difference between living and dying in the next few minutes.



But as Missy hefted the revolver in her hands and felt its unexpected lightness, she had the slow, sickening realization that she wasn't even sure she had one bullet.