Kingdom's Reign E-Book

Monique Moreau

• Herausgeber: Moreau Imprint
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

A grieving biker. A jaded attorney. Can they heal each other's wounds? 

Kingdom 

Since the death of his patch brother, Kingdom has felt nothing but rage and loss. Then he meets Sage during a trip to a tattoo shop to get fresh ink for his fallen brother. She’s sexy. Brilliant. And exactly the kind of challenge that makes him ache. If asked whether he deserves her, Kingdom's straight-up answer would be, hell no. But nothing will stop him from taking what’s his. Not even her. 

Sage 

Being a no-nonsense defense attorney, the second Sage caught her fiancé cheating, she swore off men. While breaking that rule for a tatted up member of an MC seems like a monumentally bad idea, she can’t fight her attraction to Kingdom. When he invites her on a ride, she finds herself wanting so much more. Sage yearns to indulge in the sexiest and most dangerous man she's met, but fears risking her battered heart. 

Can the unlikely pair help each other move on from the wounds of the past? Or will club tensions with a rival MC find a way to use their weaknesses against them?

Leseprobe

Kingdom’s Reign

A Bad Boy Biker Romance

Monique Moreau

Copyright © 2020 by Monique Moreau

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Cover Couture

Contents

Untitled

Meet Monique!

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Epilogue

More by Monique Moreau

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Untitled

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Prologue

Kingdom’s head throbbed like someone had slammed it with a ten-pound sledgehammer. Cracking an eye open, light blazed through it like a cruise missile. He shut it with a moan. Nails drilling into his eyeball would have caused less pain. He tried to pull himself up. His eyes snapped open again and found his wrists manacled to a white paint-chipped wrought-iron headboard. Fury wracked his chest, and he jack-knifed up off the bed, only to be yanked backward by the cuffs linked to the iron bars.

Straining against the shackles, he growled, “What in the ever-loving-fuck?!”

Kingdom dropped down to the mattress with an exhausted thud. A metallic odor suffused his nostrils. He glared up and caught the blood stains covering his hands. Choking on his saliva, he cried out, “Chop.”

Neon snapshotssplashed through Kingdom’s mind. Heaving up Chop’s sprawled body, his wounded face glued to the floorboards. Touching Chop’s temple, tainted with coagulated blood. Chop’s favorite Glock lay in his palm. Kingdom’s gaze sliced from Chop’s temple to his hand. Temple, hand, temple, hand.

A single lucid fact coalesced in his mind: Chop had gone and killed himself.

He’d gone ballistic, swinging at the air and smashing objects across Chop’s living room. Abruptly, he stood stock-still amid the chaos, snorting through his nostrils like a bull. The next moment, his head rammed into the wall. On and on he went, bashing his skull, leaving splintering holes in his wake.

It took three brothers to take Kingdom and knock him out. “No wonder my damn head is pounding.”

They may not have shared the same blood, but they were more than blood brothers to one another. They’d grown up together, served together, and joined the Demon Squad together.

Fighting against the metal cuffs, he cut up his wrists, his fresh blood trailing over Chop’s dried blood. “For fuck’s sake, I was his keeper. I failed him,” he bellowed out.

Out of breath, he paused and surveyed his surroundings through swollen, itchy eyes that begged to be scratched. Chained up in a bare room, the dents and scrapes in the plaster told him that he was in one of the Squad clubhouse’s crash rooms.

Christ. I’m on fucking lockdown.

Pissed to hell and back, he thrashed against the handcuffs and the nylon ropes lashed around his ankles. “Cocksucking motherfuckers! You pussies hogtied me. When I get free, I will kill you, every damn one of you!”

The door banged open and Prez, the Demon Squad’s president, entered with a warning rolling off his tongue. “Calm the hell down, or I’ll get Cutter to come in and tranquilize you again.”

Prez’s words rattled through his head as if he’d used a bullhorn in his ear. “Again? What in the hell do you mean again?” Kingdom raged.

Prez reached the bed and viciously pressed his elbow down on Kingdom’s bruised shoulder to get his attention.

Panting through his mouth, Kingdom gasped, “Son of a fuckin’ bitch!”

“Get your shit together, Kingdom. Chopper put you down as executor of his will. We gotta bury him, and we ain’t doin’ it without you.”

Prez took out a key and released Kingdom from his bonds. It was the mention of Chop’s funeral that kept him from choking Prez out once his hands were free. Peering closely at the cuffs, he said, “Wait, these better not be the ones Cutter uses on his bitches.”

Ignoring him, Prez stated, “You’ve got five minutes to settle your ass down before you join the rest of the brothers waitin’ on you downstairs.” Lancing Kingdom with a sardonic look, he continued, “I trust you won’t wreck this place like you did Chopper’s.”

The motherfucker walked out, leaving the door swinging wide open. Kingdom wiped the cuts on the mattress, cursing under his breath, and swung his legs over the bed and onto the ground.

Soundlessly, Loki walked in and stood, glaring down at him, arms folded over his chest. “You’ll get no forgiveness from me, you murdering bastard. I’ll let you live a while longer to see you suffer, but when I’m ready, I will fucking decimate you.”

Kingdom stared up at the ceiling. “Bring it, my brother.” The last words were tinged with sarcasm. He got that Loki was suffering. He really did, but if Loki was looking to heap more hurt on Kingdom than he’d piled on his damn self, he’d be in for serious disappointment. “You at your worst ain’t nothin’.”

“Is that right? You crowned yourself the motherfucking King of Pain?” He snorted. “I don’t think so. You have to suffer a helluva lot more to deserve that honor.”

“Fuck you, Loki. I’m not trying to get off easy, but I missed the signs. Shit, man, we all came back fucked up from Iraq. You were his brother by blood and you didn’t see one damn thing, so don’t think taking your grief out on me is gonna get you off the hook.”

Loki was on top of Kingdom in an instant, his hands wrapped tight around Kingdom’s throat. He swallowed against the pressure on his windpipe but did nothing to break the other man’s hold.

Loki’s voice cracked. “I gave him to you for safekeepin’, you good-for-nothing piece of shit. You might as well have pulled the trigger for him.”

With two sets of fingers pressing on Kingdom’s throat, Loki slammed him down repeatedly. The stripped mattress creaked with each impact. Nose-to-nose, Loki snarled, “Too fuckin’ easy. It’s too easy to kill you now. I’m your fuckin’ shadow till I decide to off you. Till then, I will make every second you breathe a living nightmare.”

“Stand down, Loki,” came an uncompromising voice. Loki released his death grip on Kingdom. “I won’t stand for a brother threatening another brother,” Prez pronounced. “If you kill him, then be ready to die. Feel me?”

Loki’s face went hard with rage, stretching the skin of his cheek and tugging at the ragged edges of his scar. Voice tight, he seethed, “I get you.”

“Good. Now get the fuck outta here.”

Kingdom covered his eyes with his forearm as Loki’s biker boots stomped down the stairs. He understood Loki’s point. Chop was thirteen, Kingdom fourteen when they struck up a friendship. Chop was the youngest in a family headed by a son-of-a-bitch named Crimpton Scott, a serial-killer name if he’d ever heard one. He sure as hell acted like a psychopath. Chop’s mom was long gone before they’d met because of that son of a bitch. Before leaving for his first tour, Loki had made him pledge to take his place and protect Chop. He sure as hell had fucked that up.

Raising his arm, Kingdom said, “Thanks. I don’t blame him for hating me, but it was gettin’ a little too real there for a second.”

“Get over yourself,” Prez grumbled. “Brothers from the neighboring chapters are downstairs waitin’ on you to drink themselves half to death. We gotta represent.” Walking toward the door, he halted. Holding the doorknob, he counseled, “Watch your back because Loki’s gonna be mad-doggin’ you for as long as it takes to get over Chopper’s death.”

After leaving him alone, Prez’s message hung heavy in the air as the door shuddered in its frame. Kingdom let out a strangled cry. With Chop gone, I’m done.

1

Six Months Later

Kingdom sauntered through the door of Angel’s Tattoos on the north side of Poughkeepsie with his brothers, Cutter and Tank, following behind him. Angel was the best tat man this side of New York State. Kingdom ambled over to the counter as his brothers took their seats along the line of chairs backed against the far wall. A wall was coated with layers of photos and designs of Angel’s artistry. Dark demons took residence beside brilliant angelswhile butterflies lived side by side with serpents. He liked the place. Whatever he wanted done, Angel did it, and he did it right. No mess-ups. No repeats. The man had mad skills.

Approaching the new woman behind the counter, Kingdom stared at a bent head. Waves of mahogany hair cascaded down and hid her face. A white tank top stretched over full tits and slanted down to a slim waist. Leaning over slightly, he caught a hint of nice wide hips. So far, so good. In his past life, he would’ve definitely kicked it to her.

“Hey,” his voice came out to alert her to his presence. He cleared his throat, suddenly full of grit.

Emerging from layers of velvety hair were cobalt eyes. Those stunning baby blues were set against fair skin and partnered with generous lips naturally shaped in a slight pout.

Kingdom’s breath stalled. Fuck.Damn.

Her lips parted a bit, and she stared at him intently.

He rasped out, “When’s Angel free?”

A moment of silence hovered between them. She broke it with a brief shake of her head. After flicking through the appointment book, she looked up, her lips curved upward into a perfect bow.

He sucked in a breath. Fuck, he’d thought she had a tight, hot little body, but damn—her smile. Coming straight from Chop’s gravesite, where he’d lobbed a volley of curses at the gravestone as he did most days, he was caught off guard by the gorgeous creature in front of him.

“You’re lucky,” a voice broke through his thoughts. “Angel usually has a full day, but there’s an opening in approximately half an hour. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah,” he responded gruffly.

“What are you looking to ink?”

“What does it matter?” he shot back. The woman flinched. A twinge of guilt pricked him, but he shrugged it off. Hell, he couldn’t bother to add more to his already heavy-as-fuck load.

“I’m simply asking to get an idea of how long it will take him,” she replied. “I give prospective customers an estimate of how much it will cost and how many sessions Angel will need.”

She bounced back fast; he’d give her that. And she was talking all classy. Prim and proper. He didn’t have many opportunities to be around prim and proper. The easy sensuality of her tone eased the tautness in his neck and shoulders. Even his cock twitched for the first time since his brothers had scraped him off the floor after he had found Chop. He had hoped his crippled libido was a permanent condition. A righteous punishment handed down by a vengeful god.

Her bright cerulean eyes framed by dark lashes scrutinized the tattoo sleeves on his arms. His biceps instinctually flexed under her inspection. Consciously, he released the tension in his muscles, but it was too late—lust had surged into his bloodstream like he’d been hooked up to an IV of Spanish fly.

“You seem to have enough experience with tattoos, but I do usually confer with Angel about what a customer would like done before he meets with them. Would you mind giving me an idea of what you’re looking for?”

“The tat is for my brother. Name was Chopper.” He coughed into his fist. “It’s the anniversary of his death.” Where the fuck did that come from? Since when did he share his private business with perfect strangers? Never, that’s when. Must be her unusual eyes bewitching him. Ignoring the unease pinging in his chest, Kingdom pulled up a photo of a Harley Chopper on his phone. He held it up for the woman to see. “I want Angel to ink a Chopper for my brother.”

As she studied the photos, her forehead furrowed. “Oh...I see. His nickname was Chopper because he rode one.”

“No, Chop got his name when he was a Night Stalker. It’s old school, but Chop liked to keep it real.”

“When he was a what?”

Christ. Kingdom reached deep inside for patience. “Chop was in the 160th Special Ops Aviation Regiment.” A tic flickered on his jawline. He didn’t like outing himself to a civilian. He sighed at her blank look and, speaking slowly as if to a child, he clarified, “In the U.S. Army, Night Stalkers fly helicopters. Helos.” He elaborated further, “Choppers.”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity. Finally, she understood. “What kind of helicopter did he drive?”

“Fly,” he corrected her. “You don’t drive birds. He flew everything, but his favorites were Blackhawks.”

A phone was thrust in his face.

“What about a tat specifically of a Blackhawk?” she asked.

Huh. For the first time since Chop’s death, Kingdom drew in a complete breath, a near miracle considering his chest was always tightly cinched by an iron band of shame. But the instant Miss Sex and Class showed him a photograph of Chop’s beloved Blackhawk, Kingdom’s lungs expanded fully with air, along with something more. More of what, he couldn’t begin to imagine, but it loosened the noose around his neck by a notch, like the buckle of a belt.

“You can have his name tatted on one blade,” she went on, “his birth date on another, a RIP date on the third one, and...” Her forehead creased as she concentrated. “The date he became a member of your biker gang on the fourth blade.”

His lips quirked to one side. “You mean patched.”

Sex and Class peeked up from her phone with her cute frown. “Patched?”

“Yeah, patched. Bikers start out as trainees. We call them prospects, and after they prove themselves, they graduate to become full members of the club, also known as brothers. Becoming a member of our MC is called getting patched in. The brother gets a patch on their cut.” He pointed to his own patch. “The Demon Squad MC.” He explained the acronym, “MC means Motorcycle Club. For the record, we’re not a gang.”

She gave him a slightly embarrassed one-shoulder shrug. “Oh. Thanks for the explanation.”

Pleased with her suggestion, he nodded his approval and indulged himself with a thorough perusal. She was worth looking at, for sure. Some men liked skinny bitches; some men liked thick bitches. Him, he didn’t discriminate, but he was willing to admit that she carried the perfect balance. Turns out he had a preference after all. Her. On top of her appearance, she was smart too.

Worst yet, he sensed that he hadn’t scratched the surface. He’d wager his bike that a woman like her was more dangerous than the sum of her parts. Damn it all to hell, he was hard now. Apparently the extra oxygen he had breathed in had shot straight to his cock.

To distract himself, he resumed their conversation. “I see why you’re up front. You have a knack for tats.” He shouldn’t have, but he asked anyway, “What’s your name, girl?”

“My name is Sage,” she huffed. “But FYI, I haven’t been a girl for quite some time.”

Kingdom grinned. Her gaze jumped to the dimple at the side of his lips. He’d never liked it, but he had to admit it was useful with the women.

“I stand corrected.” He let his eyes wander all over her in an unhurried fashion. “You’re all woman.”

Heat tinged her cheekbones, but she gave him a noncommittal shrug. He spotted the flare of interest in her eyes. It caught fire and smoldered in his belly. Kingdom braced the counter with one hand and leaned toward her ever so slightly. He was pleased when her body gravitated toward him like an animal seeking refuge with one of its own kind.

Evading his blatant come-on, Sage said conversationally, “Most people don’t ask for advice. It’s a shame to waste Angel’s talent with boring tattoos like butterflies or the Grim Reaper.”

He pulled away and countered in mock offense, “GR is not boring.”

Again, he noticed that when he moved away from her, she instinctively inclined toward him before she briskly hauled herself upright.

“You may have a point,” she concurred. “A woman came in the other day with a drawing she made for a tattoo of butterflies in flight. The butterfly at the base of her spine was in a pencil outline. Each subsequent butterfly circling up her spine became more detailed and colored. The last one, just below her neck, burst out in Technicolor. I thought it was a beautiful representation her personal journey of transformation. Her manner of interpreting the idea was touching.” Sage scrunched her nose. “I doubt the average woman wants a caterpillar and chrysalis on her back for her entire life.”

Kingdom chased her expressions and gestures as she relayed her story. He had stopped listening to specific words, instead tuning into the vibrant thrumming energy between them. A fierce, unexplainablesensation lashed against the sides of his ribs. His fingers snagged the edges of his leather vest and gripped them hard.

There was an affinity between them, no doubt, but he had no template for instant connections. Fascination lured him in, not with cut-offs revealing butt cheeks like the club women, but with her odd mix of softness and intensity. She had an air of innocence mixed with a passion he’d forgotten existed. In his world, innocence died a swift death.

“What about skulls?” he suggested just to keep her luscious lips moving and the smart words flying from her mouth.

Sage’s pursed her lips in distaste. “Not a big fan. I tend to like pretty things.”

“You don’t say. That’s ’cause you’re a pretty thing.” He angled his head, his gaze lingering on her.

She fidgeted under the weight of his perusal. Quickly, her head dipped down at his compliment, embarrassment splashing pink across her cheeks. Other than her blush, she refused to acknowledge his flirtation. Twice now.

Bitches always, and he meant always, responded to him. Hell, he didn’t put effort into baggin’ women, especially civilians. Most times, hangers-on were the worst. They didn’t know how to play the game. Got clingy.

He couldn’t put words to why this woman affected him. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind so much, but it was beneath the Vice President of the Demon Squad to show undue interest in any female, much less one separate from his world.

Brusquely, Kingdom shoved off the counter as Angel turned the corner of the hallway and entered the front of the store. By the look on his face, he was none too pleased to hear Kingdom’s last words or see Sage’s blush. Kingdom repressed a laugh.

Angel bristled, a growl emanating from the back of his throat. “Kingdom,” he called out curtly.

Kingdom turned fully at Angel’s tone, and they locked eyes. Few men dared hold his stare for long. He and Angel were on friendly terms, so the woman must have meant something to him. His heart rate picked up as it occurred to him that she might belong to Angel. He didn’t like that thought. Not one bit. And worst, he chafed against the idea that he cared either way.

Kingdom queried in a casual tone, “Got a problem?”

Angel’s face revealed nothing, but he stood down. Nothing good came out of antagonizing a member of the Demon Squad. “Nope,” Angel replied. He gave Sage a hard look, then held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “What can I do for you, Kingdom?”

Kingdom stared into Angel’s eyes for a half minute more to solidify his dominance. He inclined his head toward Sage and clarified, “I’m talking to your girl here.”

Sage interrupted gingerly, “Angel, I can run through with you what he’d like done.”

Kingdom cast her quelling look over his shoulder. “I’ll handle it.”

Angel stiffened at Kingdom’s command. Reclining against the counter, Kingdom used his large frame to block Angel’s view of Sage. If she is Angel’s woman, he’ll barrel into me anytime now. Angel was a genius with a needle, but the bastard had little self-control.

Angel stood still.

Kingdom clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax. I came in for a tat.”

Angel hesitated for a moment before taking Kingdom’s lead. Shooting Sage a concerned look, he motioned for Kingdom to walk down the hall to his workroom. “Come on back, hombre, you can tell me what you want in the chair.”

2

Kingdom.

I understand how he got his nickname.

Angel had somewhat of a temper, and he did not cower easily to other men. Today, however, he backed down from Kingdom. The biker was clearly a man to be handled with care.

From the moment she locked eyes on him, she was mesmerized. His magnetism coupled with an air of danger had her hooked. It wasn’t simple lust either. She was taken aback by an unbidden image of Kingdom unleashing all his unbridled power on her body. What it would be like to have all that raw strength of his let loose on her, unchecked. She bit down on her bottom lip and squirmed in her seat. She was feeling hot all over and would’ve fanned herself but for his friends, sitting forward in their seats, at attention. The shop was small enough that they had overheard every word of the pissing match, the aggression bouncing off the walls of the tight space.

The biker was smokin’ hot, as Greta, her receptionist, would put it. It was probably commonplace for him to remark on a woman’s attractiveness. His was a mild flirtation, at best.

Not that I don’t get compliments. Working in a profession dominated by men, she routinely garnered male attention. Admittedly, she had a pretty face, but a man like Kingdom wouldn’t show interest in a woman without a sexy body to go with it. Neither model thin nor curvy, her body type inhabited a no-man’s-land. A beast like Kingdom wouldn’t settle for anything less than an off-the-charts sex goddess.

Nevertheless, it hadn’t stopped her from devouring the sight of him during his little showdown with Angel. Beginning at his dark head, her gaze cascaded over his rolling shoulders as he leaned against the counter, down his broad back to that firm ass encased in worn jeans and ended at his motorcycle boots. He was a man who kept a firm hold on the space around him.

I’d like his firm hold on me, holding me down while he pounds into—Sage refocused in time to see him stand tall, saunter towards the hallway leading to Angel’s room and disappear around the corner. Even after he was gone, she kept staring at the spot, the ghost of his hulky frame still hovering beside her. She imagined the composition of those toned, hard muscles underneath his clothes. The uber-male type didn’t usually do it for her, but he was a thing of beauty. He’d been right when he’d guessed that she loved things of beauty. She so did. Despite his overbearing masculinity, or perhaps because of it, he was a beaut of a specimen.

“Like what you see?” a voice cut into her musings.

Sage’s head snapped up to find two sets of eyes turned on her. The bikers who’d accompanied Kingdom. She shook her head, curtains of hair covering her embarrassment for getting caught staring after Kingdom like a lost puppy. Curse her and her bad luck.

In her professional life, Sage was considered tough, but she took off her mask when she covered for Camilla at the store. Angel’s name may be on the awning outside, but, except for the needle, everything went through Camilla’s hands.

Working at the shop was a welcome break from her hectic work life. That’s right, work life. Because she hadn’t had any other kind of life since Stanton, her good-for-nothing ex-fiancé left. Or as Camilla called him, that rat-assed bastard. It was a bad idea to get on the wrong side of a Cuban American woman. Stanton was lucky that his penis was still attached to the rest of his body after cheating on her only a few weeks before their wedding date.

The taller of Kingdom’s friends eased back into his seat and nodded toward the empty hall leading to Angel’s room, remarking casually, “He’s a pretty boy.”

She disagreed but wisely chose to keep her opinion to herself. Feigning nonchalance as if she hadn’t been caught in the act of panting after his friend, Sage shrugged.

The biker called her out, “Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, baby.”

She wanted to cover her head in shame except that, well, the look on his face was lenient. He wasn’t judging or mocking her.

“A woman would have to be blind not to notice your friend,” she remarked.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

She practically choked on her own saliva. God, please kill me now.

His expression turned calculating. “What ’bout me? Ain’t I pretty?”

At a loss for words, her gaze flitted about the room nervously before landing on him. She scrutinized him, taking in his tall, brawny physique, harsh features, and grimly set mouth. The scar jagging down the side of his face topped off a whole package of menace. Not one of his features redeemed him to a place of normality. Whereas Kingdom was forceful, there was a touch of refinement to him. His friend, on the other hand, could easily be termed scary. A sane woman would require a heavy dose of bravery to tangle with him.

“I wouldn’t exactly call you handsome but”—she paused—“you are appealing in your own right.” Appealing in a disturbing sort of way.

He guffawed. “Good answer. You’d be lyin’ otherwise.” He stretched his huge frame to standing and sauntered over to her.

Sage fidgeted with the border of her t-shirt.

He rolled the word over his tongue. “Appealing.”

Her nerves amped up a level. She didn’t think she could handle it if he made a move on her. She searched for an excuse. “I’m a one-man type of woman. I noticed pretty boy first, so it’s a bit late to change allegiances.”

He chuckled softly as he leaned over with eyes holding a promise. “Little girl, if I wanted you, you fuckin’ a brother couldn’t stop me.”

Ugh. Who came out with a pick-up phrase like that? A sociopath, that’s who. She’d dealt with tough men, some of them who had been incarcerated for years, but, even with her experience, this biker was a different animal altogether. An untamed beast lay not-so-dormant beneath the guise of a human being.

“Tank!” his friend barked sharply from his seat against the wall. “Back the fuck off. You’re scarin’ her. She’s a lady. You wouldn’t know what to do with one if you caught a real one in your hands.”

The man named Tank twisted his torso in the direction of his friend, who lounged back against his chair. He snorted. “Yeah, I do. Lesson number one, brother—insert dick in pussy.”

Sage choked on her saliva and coughed.

“There you go, you crude motherfucker. Back up before your nasty face makes her faint. Shit, she was tryin’ to be nice when she didn’t call you out as the nasty-lookin’ fucker that you are.”

Tank turned back to her. Coolly, he demanded, “Your name.”

Sage looked at him blankly.

“Babe, your name.” This was not a question.

Swallowing down her irritation, Sage replied, “I’m Sage.” She reached out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m called Tank,” he drawled as he took her hand. “Didn’t mean to rattle you with my plain speaking.”

She lifted an eyebrow. Pfft. Like hell you didn’t. Hoping to distract him, she suggested, “Why don’t you and your friend take a break and go grab something to eat? Angel may be a speed demon, but it may take a while. It’s an intricate tat.”

Tank continued to study her intently.

Feeling her face heat up, she asked blandly, “Unless, perhaps, you would like a tattoo as well?”

Tank held up both arms to show Sage intricate tattoos starting his knuckles and traveling up his arms until they slipped from view under his sleeves. Another tat played peekaboo from the collar of his shirt. “Ain’t got much room left.”

Once again, his friend called out, “Aren’t you done yappin’ your mouth? Sit the fuck down, already.”

There was loud cursing coming from the back. “Idiot’s inkin’ up his ribs,” Tank said with a shrug.

She winced, aware of how much it hurt to tattoo the ribs. There was no flesh to protect the bones. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when Tank turned away from her and joined his friend by the wall.

Her courage made an appearance as she joked, “Maybe your friend needs someone to hold his hand.”

Tank bit out a laugh. “You gunnin’ for the position?”

Sage huffed a surprised laugh. As if. She may be attracted to Kingdom, but there was no chance in hell she’d hook up with him. Even if he returned her interest, she didn’t believe in casual hookups.

No matter how many wicked images of his mouth and tongue ran through her head.

3

Tank and his friend took their leave, saying they were coming back when Kingdom’s tattoo would be done. Sage was grateful for the break and pulled up the legal memo she was working on. Hours later, the bikers waltzed back in, giving her chin lifts by way of greeting, and sat by the wall of tattoos. Although Sage attempted to focus on the tablet poised in her lap, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation. The fact that the waiting area was tiny did nothing to impede the biker called Tank from talking loudly. While she wasn’t one to eavesdrop, curiosity got the best of her.

The nape of her neck pricked when she felt his eyes on her again. She didn’t have to look up to know that he was inspecting her. Working around men, she could spot machismo a mile away. Normally, she was immune to men’s chauvinism, but there was always ab exception to the rule. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tank jab his friend painfully in the ribs.

He grabbed his side and glared at Tank. “What in the fuck was that for?”

Ignoring him, Tank tilted his chin “Cutter, what do ya think?”

“What do I think of what?” Cutter’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’d fuckin’ tear that bitch apart.”

“Not for me, dumbass.” Tank gave a laborious sigh. “For Kingdom.” Cutter squinted at her while Tank elaborated, “First time since Chopper’s death that Kingdom’s come up for air. He hasn’t touched a bitch; he drinks too much and picks too many fights. Something’s gotta give ’cause he’s working on my last fuckin’ nerve. Maybe she could help.”

Sage rolled her eyes. One would think they’d talk a tad lower considering they were talking about her. But no, they were completely oblivious.

Proving her point, Cutter continued, “She ain’t one of us—”

“‘Us’ ain’t doin’ it for him, but a shake-up could do the trick.” Tank titled his chin in her direction. “Somethin’ like her.”

Sage peeked up furtively to find Cutter nodding slowly as he inspected her as carefully as a forensic expert. Or a butcher, she thought snidely. Another heifer moment for me. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

“She has potential,” Cutter conceded.

Sage rolled her lips inward to prevent herself from screeching and tearing at her hair. They were beyond ridiculous. “I can hear you,” she muttered, but not loud enough to be heard over their conversation.

Tank snorted. “He’s out of her league, but we could make it happen.”

Sage’s eyes bulged at his comment. These men thought Kingdom was out of her league? Ha! Good one.

“Push him at her,” Tank ordered.

“Why fuckin’ me? I’m sick of doin’ the dirty work.”

“You’re the one with the charm,” Tank countered. “Shit, I don’t fuckin’ do nice; I’m a fuckin’ bulldozer.” He sprawled out his legs, leaned back, and crossed his arms, grinning unrepentantly. “It ain’t in my blood.”

Sage almost burst out laughing.Yup,he’d probably been spawned by a couple of over-sized pit bulls.

“I ain’t a fuckin’ matchmaker, but you got a point. Kingdom might ease up on us if he had a good fuck. He’s pretty enough to bag her, and she is hot in her own way. Though,” Tank mused, “she’s not his usual.”

“’Course you’d throw this shit in my lap ’cause your ass would fuck it up.”

“Brother, you’ve taken too many hits to the head if you think you’re smarter than me, but no doubt about it, girls rush to do your biddin’. Alright, enough bitchin’. Go play cupid, my man.”

With the scrape of the chair legs on the linoleum floor, Sage groaned inwardly. Cutter was taking that moron’s advice. She might as well give up all pretense that she wasn’t listening and face him straight on.

Cutter threw a punch at Tank’s shoulder and strolled toward Sage. Let’s see how he plays his hand.

“Hey there. Why don’t you show me what you got in there for me,” began Cutter with a wink and a gesture toward the book of tattoo samples.

Tank chortled, enjoying the spectacle. “She’s a sucker,” he mumbled.

“I heard that,” she called out. But he knew what she knew—she was a sucker. Helping people was what she did; when covering for Camilla at the shop, she sought to help customers find the perfect tat, a tat that held meaning for them. Sage opened Angel’s portfolio to her favorite tats. Biker dude or not, she was in her zone. As her fingers flew over the photos, she commented, “Hmm…you are pretty confident of yourself, but I’m going to expand your horizons, so promise to be a good listener.”

“My mama taught me to listen to pretty women, ’specially the teacher-lookin’ ones,” Cutter teased back.

Tank cracked up, and Sage made sure to throw him a good-sized glare.

As they reviewed different tattoos, Sage relented to Cutter’s charm. She revealed to him that yes, she was single. Not a big deal since she didn’t intend to be pimped out to a biker, even a man like Kingdom, who pushed all her buttons. There was no danger in divulging her age, which was twenty-nine. What she did not disclose was that she was a criminal defense lawyer. The last bit was easy to hide since she was dressed casually. Her killer attorney attire was sealed off with her wardrobe at home.

Footsteps sounded on the corridor’s creaky floor, and Cutter twisted toward the sound. Sage sniffed air charged with Kingdom’s high-vibrational energy and drank up the vision of a warrior, his torso bare. Breathe. Breathe. Her eyes skated frenetically over his chiseled chest; it was covered with a dusting of fine dark hair that narrowed over a six pack and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. A heavy brass buckle hung over the worn brown leather just above his crotch. She almost dared to dip her gaze lower. I won’t look. Stay professional.

Kingdom bared down on Cutter, who glanced at his aggressive stance and asked casually, “How’d it go?”

Sage’s attention was caught by the fascinating play of Kingdom’s pecs and the sharp cut of his abdomen as he shrugged and gave Cutter his leather vest to hold. As Kingdom raised his arms and stretched the sides of his t-shirt to fit it on his torso, a demon tail wrapped around motorcycle handles caught her attention. The fabric of his shirt swooped down and covered the tattoo before she could get more than a cursory look at it. Sage’s gaze chased his exposed flesh to the last centimeter until the worn cotton draped down and fully covered him, leaving her momentarily bereft.

He had the body of an ancient god, one painstakingly chiseled out of marble. Tank called him pretty, but Sage whole-heartedly disagreed. Kingdom exuded the power of a man who held dominion over the world. Nothing about him was “pretty.” Stunningly sexy, yes. Pretty, most definitely not.

“Hurt like a motherfucker,” Kingdom grumbled as he stuffed his shirt into his jeans. He shrugged on his leather vest. “If I had space left on my arms, I would’ve inked it there instead.”

“You shoulda tatted up your face.”

Sage gasped. Cutter flashed her a lopsided grin and mouthed, “Gotcha.” She slitted her eyes at him. Sly, shifty-eyed devil.

“Pretty Boy ain’t got what it takes to pull it off, huh?”

Kingdom’s eyebrows bunched together. “Better not be talkin’ about me, son,” he warned.

Unconcerned, Cutter laughed at him.

Without thinking, Sage spoke, “As a matter of fact, I am rarely impressed with facial tattoos. Or neck tattoos, for that matter.”

Kingdom’s attention swung to her. “You’ve got strong opinions, don’t you? Let me get it straight—no face or neck ink. No skulls or Grim Reaper. But”—his eyes skittered over her face—“you like pretty.”

Sage admitted ruefully, “I suppose I do have pretty strong opinions.”

Golden-brown eyes stared down on her keenly. The swivel stool creaked as Sage shifted her position under his scrutiny. Unabashed, his eyes flickered to her breasts before swinging back up to bolt into hers. Sage was ensnared in the web he wove around her, dragging her focus entirely on him with his own undiluted concentration.

Cutter interrupted their stare-a-thon. “You were cryin’ like a little bitch back there. Angel give you a big boo-boo?”

Absently, he responded, “Shut up.”

Stumbling out of her Kingdom-induced coma, Sage rummaged around for a comment and finally found praise for Angel. “He is a master.”

Kingdom’s eyes flared, and he retorted, “I’m master here. No man but me.”

A shiver ran through her, leaving behind a sheen of prickly awareness on her skin.

“You finish it or do you have to come back again?” Cutter piped up, gesturing to the wall layered with photos displaying Angel’s talent.

Kingdom finally broke his lock-hold stare on Sage and cocked his head toward Cutter, irritation etched on his face. Pulling out his wallet, he handed his credit card to Sage. “I’ll be back to finish in three weeks.”

Angel walked out, pulling off his disposable gloves. After he was done wrapping one inside of the other and tying them off, he clapped Kingdom on the shoulder. “I don’t need to explain to you the aftercare instructions, am I right, hombre?”

“Think I can handle it,” Kingdom muttered, continuing his battle of glares with Cutter. Giving up, Cutter threw his head back with a knowing laugh. Taking his credit card from Sage, he paused to sign the receipt and then turned to Angel. “You did right by him.”

The molten pain in his voice was evident in what she suspected was a rare compliment.

Angel gave him a brief smile of his own. “Appreciate it, hermano.”

“After we’re done, I’ll come back so you can take shots of the tat. It deserves to be up there.” Kingdom’s gaze flickered up toward the wall.

Angel’s face registered shock. Sage may not have understood the back and forth between Kingdom and his friend, but it didn’t take much to guess Kingdom’s reasons for returning to the shop instead of posting the pics online. Shevery much doubted he was glued to his social media presence.

“Shit, I’ve done mad tats for the Squad. Didn’t think the day’d come when a brother would go public for the shop.”

“Not for the shop. For Chopper. For all the fallen brothers,” Kingdom intoned, his gaze dropping to the tat on Angel’s fist.

“Yeah,” Angel commiserated. A recognizable shadow passed Angel’s face at the mention of fallen brothers. Angel, Kingdom, me. They held within themselves the shadows left by the ones they’d loved but lost. To the Grim Reaper, she grimaced in reflection, the collector of souls. Was there any wonder she hated the image as much as she did?

Kingdom gave Angel a chin lift while his eyes coasted over Sage one last time.

Tank stood up, and they left, the little bell attached to the doorknob chiming behind the door.

Once they were alone, Angel glared at Sage. She dropped her gaze to her tablet but heated under Angel’s continued stare. She had a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t be covering for Camilla in the future.

“Pardon,hermana, they’re a lot to handle. They didn’t bother you, did they?”

“Of course not; they were mostly gentlemen. The one called Tank was a little forward, but for the most part, they’re harmless.”

“Believe me, there is nothing harmless about them. Thank you, Jesus, they’re gone.” Angel sighed and silently made the sign of the cross. “They’re not men you should be around, Kingdom and his crew. If he got his hooks into someone like you, he’d chew you up and spit you out.” Angel shot her a piercing look that told her all she needed to know. There was no way in hell Angel would let Sage hang out to dry.

“Damn.” He fake shuddered. “Camilla will cut offmio cojones.”

“Seriously, Angel, I’m a grown woman, and it’s not plausible that a biker like him would be seriously interested in me. They like their creature comforts like, oh”—she tapped her chin lightly—“a harem of willing women at their disposal. Please. If he comes back, it will be for the tat, which is impressive, by the way. Not,” she insisted, “because he’s interested in me.”

Angel harrumphed and stomped toward the back of the shop. Sage could have sworn she heard him mutter, “He’s interested, alright, the pendejo.”

4

Once the door of the shop closed behind them and cut off the annoying sound of bells, Kingdom rounded on Cutter. “What the fuck were you playing at back there? You tryin’ to push the tattoo chick on me.”

Ambling toward their parked bikes, Cutter shrugged. “Why the fuck not? Did you check out her tits?” The asshole smacked his lips for emphasis.

Kingdom threw Cutter a vicious warning look. His blood was boiling. First off, he was irritated that when he had walked out, Cutter and Sage’s heads had been joined like Siamese twins as they studied the tattoo book. Then Sage threw her head back and let out a throaty laugh at some lame-ass joke Cutter had made. The moment Cutter spotted Kingdom, he’d jumped away from her as if he’d stuck a wet finger into a live socket. As if Cutter being close to Sage hadn’t grated on Kingdom’s nerves enough, him speaking about her as if she was a random bitch was blinding his vision to bloodlust red. The woman was bangin’, but she had class. Too much class for Cutter.

The brothers were lawless animals when it came to women. How could he blame them when the female was hot as fuck? Against his will, his imagination conjured up her perky tits. If he had his way, he’d spend days licking and sucking on them. Leave a trail of his marks down, across, and around those two juicy mounds.

Are her nipples light pink or dark? Either way, I’ll suck and bite the fuck out of them until I leave them both cherry-ass red.

After they were well loved, he’d fuck her tits, pressing them tightly around his cock and marking her nipples with his come.

His dick jerked in his Levi’s, and he smacked the center of his forehead with the base of his closed fist. For fuck’s sake, feeling good was never on his agenda.

Kingdom snapped at Cutter, “She ain’t my type. I’d fuckin’ break her.”

Tank noted, “I agree that she looks breakable, but she held her own against me. Made a joke. Sagey-girl ain’t stupid either because she feared me.”

“Fuck, Kingdom,” Cutter chimed in, “you ain’t tapped no pussy since Chopper. Trixie’s chewing our ears off about how you haven’t touched her. Mooning over you. Brother, if I have to keep listening to her yappin’ and goin’ on, I’m gonna fucking lose my mind.”

Kingdom clutched Cutter’s shirt. “You”—he emphasized with a twist, tearing a wound into the cotton—“ain’t my fuckin’ keeper. Stay in your fucking lane.”