Prologue
Knight
Iran a hand over my head, and the buzz-cut hairs prickled my skin as I watched the large wooden double doors that led to Judge Timkins’ courtroom.
Any minute, Rom, one of my brothers in the Silver Saints Motorcycle club, would be strolling out without the metal bracelets he’d been sporting earlier that morning.
He’d been in Devil’s Jesters’ territory recently to deliver something to a friend when the cops showed up because of a “tip.” Since he didn’t even have his own registered weapon on him, he gave them permission to search his bike, and whaddya know, they found a stolen gun.
The cops were too fucking scared of the Jesters to do any investigating, so they just took Rom in. When they finally got around to doing their fucking jobs—or at least, their lazy-ass version of it—the security tapes for the bar had been erased.
They didn’t count on Hack—another brother and a world-class hacker-–recovering the footage, or our fixer, Dom, “finding” proof that the gun had been stolen by a Jester in a home invasion a few days before Rom was picked up.
His lawyer, Gary Finch—a slimy asshole, but the only one we’d had to deal with this bullshit—had assured me that the evidence we provided to prove Rom’s innocence was solid.
Considering it showed a rival MC planting a stolen weapon in my brother’s saddlebag, most people would assume that was enough to have the bullshit charges against Rom dropped. But he’d been assigned to a dirty judge. Which was how his misdemeanor became a felony, even with a clean record. On top of that, the judge managed to keep Rom from his phone call, handed over fake papers that waived his right to a hearing, and had Rom staring down ten years in prison.
We figured that gaining the evidence for Rom would expose the judge, but it ended up becoming two separate issues. So while I handled delivering the papers to get Rom’s ass out of jail, Doc—the club’s fixer—and his old lady, Oakley, were dealing with the dirty judge.
The doors opened, drawing me from my thoughts, and I lifted my chin to Rom’s lawyer, Gary Finch. I didn’t like the asshole, but we’d paid him enough to earn his loyalty—for this job, anyway-–and he’d worked hard to clear my brother. And his lack of morals came in handy from time to time when the lawyer we preferred to use wouldn’t compromise his. Not that we’d ever asked him to, or he wouldn’t work with us.
Rom followed Gary, and when he spotted me, he headed in my direction.
“Brother,” I grunted as we shook hands and clapped each other on the back.
“Thanks,” he grunted back. Then we walked to the large set of stairs that led to the lobby and silently descended.
Rom waited until we were outside before he spoke again. Too many ears in the courthouse. “You find out who put in the tip?”
I nodded. “Mac figured you’d want to deal with the piece of shit.”
“Damn straight.”
Rom said something else, but I didn’t have a fucking clue what it was because something else captured my attention.
Golden waves shimmered in the sunshine as they bounced around the shoulders of the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. She had a sweet face with high cheekbones, and a rosebud mouth spread in a happy smile.
Her body was the opposite of her face, though. It was made for sin. Full and curvy in all the right places. My pants grew snug as my eyes devoured her big tits, round hips, and the thick thighs I wanted to bury my face between.
Suddenly, her head turned, and for a second, our eyes met. She was too far for me to see the color of her eyes, but her incredible smile was aimed at me. Then she looked away, breaking the connection. But that one second changed everything.
The light around her was probably just a trick of the sunlight, but it seemed more like a glow of innocence. It probably should have sent me running in the opposite direction. My life was full of darkness, and I had no business corrupting an angel.
It wasn’t going to stop me, though.
Now wasn’t the time to go after her, but as soon as all this bullshit was handled, her pretty little ass was mine.
1
Kiara
My first semester at college turned out to be a lot harder than I’d expected. Although I was an art major, all but one of my classes fulfilled my general education requirements, so it felt like high school all over again. Only much harder.
It also didn’t help that I was homesick. I’d been so excited to move away from home—and “spread my wings” as my mom liked to put it—but I had been ready to come back home for a visit after the first month. Unfortunately, my classes had kept me too busy for trips to see my parents as often as I wished I could. I’d barely made it back for Thanksgiving. The trip before that, I’d only been able to pop in quickly for a couple of days, and I stopped to have lunch with my dad at the courthouse on my way out of town since it felt as though I’d barely seen him while I was there.
Now that winter break was finally here, I had a whole month to spend with them. After pulling my Mini Cooper—a high school graduation present from my dad—into the garage, I jumped out and raced into the house. I was so excited to be back that I left all my stuff in the car and headed straight for the kitchen. “Mom, I’m home!”
“Shh, keep it down.” She lifted her wineglass toward the hallway that led to my dad’s office before taking a healthy gulp. “Your father is working from home today.”