Jilted Bride: Marrying The Biker King

dal

omeone slurred, sloshing c

s a deafening storm of grinding metal, stale exhaust, and rank sweat. As the f

eminder from the diner about covering the midnight shift. Every extra dollar was a nail in

testosterone closed in. I needed ai

u

e phone out. Unkno

ed the

ers, the roaring Harleys, the drunken brawl

st cav

man who had sworn on his club

ockroom. One heavy hand was shoved down the front of her leather

e image, the surveillance

watch rea

to nothing and laughed too loud. Her head was thrown back, mouth open in a wrecked moan, h

ry. I didn

w laugh scra

nd a woman who couldn't spell his last name? It wasn't heartbreak slicing through me-

en looking all

wo plastic cups of draft beer, that golden-boy smirk plastered on his

t and violent, st

he asked, reachi

touch like he was coated i

nd walked straight toward the wooden

e you going?" he

ps, brushed past the startled rhythm guitar

eal of feedback to

eavy hitters up front wearing the three-piece Serpents of

e was pure, chilling steel. It startled even me

ted shoving through the crowd.

ned from his skin. "You came over here looking for me. But I think

through the yard, foll

working so hard inside her pants two minutes ago, you probab

d. Jayson went from sheet-white to a suffocating, violent pu

lid off the diamond engagement ring he'd bragged

said, every word hitting like a

ked my

he wooden stage with a

for the next whore willi

he guitarist's chest, turned

ther waves before the Red Sea.

es, hit the gravel road, and let th