Wiping Out My Ex's MC: The Mechanic Heiress and Her Reaper King

le Bye

nd you forgot who gave you

olding knife, keeping my breath steady and my voice dead even. A cold, humorles

inging a pregnant

roar of fifteen twin-cam Harley engines rattled the cracked windowpanes of the Iron Cross Clubhouse. The air in the valley was thi

stained floorboards. They kicked over empty Coors bottles and rushed to heave

work pants, wiped my grease-stained palms down my heavy

ation sat a customized

r of his cut creaked under the weight of his three-piece patch. The top rocker read Iron Cross, the bottom read Califor

't look

hand, tuned every fuel map on his bike, and, last winter, handed a Riverside bail bondsm

reached toward h

platform wedges tou

slid off the rear fender. She rested one hand over her s

her fan and roadside admirer Jarret had picked up while riding through the Sonora scr

wrapped in barbed wire curled u

rmhole of Jarret's cut, leaning into his s

neasy glances. A few hang-arounds began muttering unde

steps, my spine rigid, the midday

rre

the fading engine idl

t before he slowly turned his head. His eyes darted

, reaching out a hand to pat my

back, letting his h

artificial sweetness. "Oh, Jarret baby... is this the Dani you to

eeps like she was tossing s

mascara and cheap gold chain.

Jarret's chest. "Jarret! Make h

ng up the first stair with his brass rings flas

on your backseat with a swollen belly whi

lder veterans by the fence, though

unks of the last three years! Dariana hauled my ass out of the ditch and nursed me when I didn't kn

ce fell ov

bloodshot face. There wasn't a sing

s from my business account to an offshore debit card in Tijuana. He hadn't lost his memory. He had

gle, venomous laugh. "In y

ward the heavy steel fire door of my

We need the shop safe

three-inch industrial steel

mounted on the brick wall. My fingers curled around the heavy red master lever that controlled the prima

ank, I slammed

central generators cut out with a dying whine, followed by a cho