TORTURE ME_ The Bandits MC(89)

Gage swallowed thickly, willing the words he knew he had to say to come out of his mouth without a fight. “I think I’m ready. Tonight,” he whispered.



“Okay, then,” Fiona said, smiling encouragingly at Gage. “Let’s read it. Together.”



“Okay,” Gage said, his voice trembling a little as he reached one hand out to grab Fiona’s again, bringing it to his mouth for a sweet kiss.



He walked into the other room to get Abby’s diary, his hands shaking as he wiped the covers clean of dust. Gage returned to the living room to sit next to Fiona on the couch, placing the diary down on both of their laps, staring at it for a long moment before tracing Abby’s name on the cover. “I have to let her go, right?” he whispered.



“No,” Fiona said, leaning in to kiss Gage’s neck. “You have to realize that she’s never left you. Not really.”



Gage exhaled forcefully and nodded, his blood rushing to his head as he lifted the cover, opening up to the first page, immediately recognizing his younger sister’s handwriting in purple ink across the pink page. “That’s my girl,” he whispered as he ran his finger along the first line of text.



“She always will be,” Fiona said, nestling in closer to Gage’s body. “And I will be, too.”



They didn’t know if they were going to be okay the next day or the day after that or the next week or the next year or the next decade. They had no idea what the future held, really. But sitting there together, clutching each other’s hands like it was the end of the world, they knew that they had each other, no matter how broken they were. And ultimately, that was all that mattered.





THE END





Free Bonus Book: BLAZE by Leah Wilde




Blaze





I'm going to use her, again and again, until I have what I want.





The look on her face when I kicked in the door was priceless.

Another day, another time, I might've laughed.

But not today. Not now.

There was business to take care of.



I cut right to the chase.

Ivan, my former business partner and mob boss extraordinaire, had tried to have me killed.

I'd survived the assassination attempt, but now, there was a Russian hitman locked up in the basement of the Kings of Hell clubhouse.



I needed someone to translate.

That's where she came in.



Her.

Julia Danvers, professor of Russian history and linguistics.

At first glance, I thought she was prim, proper, a princess in an ivory tower.

But every layer I peel away reveals something more.



Skin I want to stroke.

A body I want to squeeze.

A mouth I want to force wide open while she moans beneath me.



She doesn't belong in my world. She's far too fragile.

But I'm going to drag her, kicking and screaming…

…right into the heart of the blaze.





Chapter 1



Julia



“That’s it,” I said to myself as I put the last stack of folders on my new desk. I looked around my new office and felt a sense of pride. At just twenty-eight years old, I didn’t know anyone else who’d made it to my position.



In just a few short years, I had gone from being just a graduate student seeking my master’s degree in history to having worked my way up as a professor, and now a doctor of history at the University of Chicago. I had been granted the department chair position when I graduated with my PhD, and due to my continued research, I was now moving into my new office as a senior research fellow, meaning more pay, fewer courses, and a lot more field work.



“You’ve finally made it,” I said as I surveyed my new office.



Bookshelves lined the walls with cabinets underneath, running along the bottoms of the walls. Tall, floor-to-ceiling windows sat in the wall behind my new, dark wooden desk. They overlooked one of the campus courtyards. I had already filled most of the bookshelves up just from moving into the new office, and I still had a couple of boxes of books left. All of my paper files were stacked on my desk, waiting for a home.



The adrenaline of moving all of my stuff into the new office wore off, and I crashed into the thick, soft leather chair behind my desk. I sat and stared at the towers of folders on my desk and understood why some of the other young professors had pushed me so hard to get everything filed electronically. I was not looking forward to putting those files up.



I needed a break, a vacation. I needed to get out of the university and get back in the field. My focus was Russian history. From politics to religion, from the geographic and ideological isolation to the rich culture and language of the Russian people, I had immersed myself in anything and everything Russian.



And it had finally paid off!