Gritty star-crossed lovers? You have no idea. 

Welcome to the Crescent City. Beignets, badasses, bikers, and a whole lot of bad juju.

Lust, arousal, danger, death.
Sex.

Angel, Mercy, Saint, Slade . . . 
Revenge. 

Hold on tight. It's gonna be one hell of a bumpy ride. 

Cry Mercy

Gritty star-crossed lovers? You have no idea . . . 

​ANGEL
I thought I knew bad times. The worst times. My dad murdered, the MC that’s rightfully mine ripped apart by corrupt rule. I didn’t know anything about true horror until I met a Tennessean girl named Mercy.
 
Angel and Mercy, frigging ironic, right? You don’t know the half of it. Blood Legion MC is my legacy, and revenge against me is Mercy’s. If you’re looking for gritty star-crossed lovers in the Crescent City, you’ve found it. Because there’s a damn good chance one of us won’t make it out of here alive.
 
MERCY
I’m at the mercy of my menfolk. Mercy . . . ironic, isn’t it? Because my cousin and my uncle show no mercy to me, despite my name. I’m used against my will. I’m beaten and worse when I don’t behave. I have no freedom, only one friend, and no chance of escape even though New Orleans is so vibrant I feel like I could touch the colors.
 
I fled the compound for just one night. I shouldn’t have. I met a biker called Angel--Angel. He’s blond as a seraph, but big and tall and full of sweet talk I’ve never heard before. Except he’s my family’s enemy.
 
Angel can’t be my only hope because my kin have vowed to take out him and the rest of the Blood Legion MC in one big Tenn-tucky blaze of glory. 
​Something wicked hot this way comes.
 
SLADE
I was a Marine. An operative. A hardcore soldier. Something brought me to the Blood Legion MC in New Orleans, and now I’m a biker. Whatever drew me here is bigger than my own baggage, and it isn’t the CIA, or Force-Recon, or anyone else.
 
There’s a pull. Her name is Grace. She’s missing, possibly because of the MC and our haphazard raid on the White Lair. Grace is my new mission. An op. Nothing more.
 
Until I finally locate the gorgeous woman who has built an even bigger barricade around herself than I have, and I realize I’ll never be free of her.
 
GRACE
I don’t want to be found. Not by anyone. Not anymore. Not after what’s been done to me against my will. As if enslavement at the White Lair wasn’t enough.
 
It seems I don’t have a choice. I have a new client. He’s dark-browed, big all over, and broody beyond belief. This Killian Slade doesn’t force me. He doesn’t ask me to strip. He pays extra each time and he doesn’t even touch me. When he finds out the truth, he’ll hate me as much as I hate myself. Yet I can’t stop the hot hammering of my pulse where I’d only ever been hurt and used before—there’s a yearning to be with this singular man.
 
I want to wake up from this nightmare, but the nightmare is just beginning.