Gritty star-crossed lovers? You have no idea . . .
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.
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.
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.
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.
To him, she’s absolutely irresistible. To her, he’s nothing but bad news. When their fates collide, the only thing they have in common is destined to tear them apart.
Witha rap sheet about as long as the inked sleeves on my arms, I’ve been a misfit with a questionable track record. But I’ve fought for and found a home with the Blood Legion MC. Through thick and thin, brawls and bloodletting, I’ve created a rep: I’m the man.
I’m the man, and Honoré’s the only woman I want. This obsession with her is irrational and stupid considering she’s prickly, pissed off with me before I can even make a move, and definitely not my type. Except the beautiful New Orleans street busker takes my breath away—all untapped passion simmering just beneath the surface.
Something much darker simmers just beneath the surface of her life too.
Being someone’s old lady is the last thing on my mind. Been there, done that, along with the obligatory bourbon shots, random ink, and riding bitch on some guy’s bike. I can’t slip away from my life, or spare time for a surly biker who has crawled under my skin and rattled my last nerve in a sexy, delicious way.
Saint.As if. I’ve known my fair share of outlaw MC dudes, and not a single one of them was anything close to righteous. I want to hate him and everything he stands for, but he’s ridiculously hot. He’s annoyingly persistent. And he’s surprisingly kind.
There’s no way I can sacrifice all I’ve fought for to be with him. When Saint brings danger to my door, it’s only a matter of time before my secrets spill over to rip us apart.