Rider book 3, p.1
Rider (Book 3), page 1
Rider (Book 3)
Nicole Fox
Published by MBK Hanson Inc., 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Rider: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Seven Sinners MC Book 3) copyright 2017 by Nicole Fox. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Rider: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Seven Sinners MC Book 3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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Rider: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Seven Sinners MC Book 3)
By Nicole Fox
SHE’S TOO INNOCENT to keep my hands to myself.
ROCCO
I don’t do weddings.
But Shotgun practically begged me to be his best man, so here I am, monkey suit and all.
I’m long past ready to get drunk and get out of here, but the maid of honor, Simone, might convince me to stick around.
She’s innocent, untouched.
Yet, her body calls to me, and I can’t help being intrigued by her.
I’m not the marrying type, but we could still have a little fun.
But I’ll only let her a certain distance past my walls.
After losing my fiancé years ago, I vowed I’d never let anyone get too close again.
This girl is a toy for my savage pleasure – nothing more.
She’s not cut out for this life, or for the war about to wreak havoc on my city and club.
But the harder I push her away, the more she begs to get closer.
Especially after we find out that our midnight romp had some unintended consequences.
Chapter 1
Rocco
“I’ve just been busy, Mom. No, nothing’s going on. What do you mean, bikers? Why would I be hanging around with bikers?”
At some point in the night we moved into the bedroom. I stand up and go to the door, pressing my ear against it. It’s clear that Simone is on the phone. Either that or her mom has the quietest voice imaginable. I feel stupid standing here naked, but I need to hear her.
“No, Mom! I have more important things to do than hang around with a bunch of bikers. Please, just stop talking about it! For God’s sake! Will you just leave it, okay? I’ll think about it. I said I’ll think about it, didn’t I? Yes, that’s what think about it means! What do you want me to say, I’ll go on a date with him this morning? I’m busy, Mom. I have things to do. The MGM accounts for one thing . . .”
I go to the bed and sit down, wondering what else I expected. Why would Simone be honest about me? She’s not exactly going to call her mom and say, “Hey, did you know I fucked a biker last night, just like Cecilia did, and I know it broke one of your daughter’s hearts but just trust me that it won’t break another.”
But even if I understand it on some level, I think about last night, about how close we were. It was damn weird and damn amazing. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt with a woman. I didn’t really know what was going on. It was like the two of us were dancing, completely in sync, but we hadn’t rehearsed at all. It was like riding at the back of a line of bikes with the wind in my face and the slipstream making me faster, feeling like this is the only place I belong. And now she’s out there pretending like none of it happened.
She’s from a different world, I remind myself. Even if last night was amazing for us both—and it was amazing for her, I know that—she still has to play her rich-girl games. She still has to lie to her snooty parents. That’s just the way it is. Maybe that’s the way it’ll always be.
I wonder why I lied to her about the man in the forest. I dragged him off and I hit him and hit him until he was on his face, and then I throttled the bastard right there in the woods. The reason it took me a while to get back to her was that I was calling Beast to deal with the body. What point was there lying to her if she’s embarrassed by me anyway?
I think about going to the door again but decide against it. Instead I go around the room collecting my clothes. Some of them are in the living room but I pull on my underwear and my T-shirt, and then sit on the bed, legs stretched out, clicking my neck from side to side. Last night was like magic. It was something I had never experienced, had never dreamed of experiencing. I opened up to her and now she’s talking to her mom like even the idea of being with me is laughable. I know I’m being sensitive, letting emotions get to me in a way I never have before, but I can’t help it. I’m learning that you can’t let someone in by an inch. You let them in by an inch and before you know it they’re all the way in, and there’s jack you can do to change it.
The bedroom door opens. Simone pokes her head in, smiling. “Morning, you,” she says. She’s smiling, looking sexy and playful in her pink tank top and pink pajama shorts. “I didn’t realize you were up.”
“I’m up,” I mutter. I can’t meet her eye. I’m afraid if I do I’ll confront her about the phone call, and I don’t want to do that. I’ve never been much good at relationship arguments. And I’m done groveling to her. I’m done making myself look like a damn fool. I’m starting to get pissed just sitting here. I jump to my feet.
She takes a step back, looking at me like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have. “Do you want some breakfast?” she asks.
“I killed that man in the forest,” I say, walking past her into the living room.
I’m kicking on my jeans when she follows me, shaking her head slowly. “What do you mean?” she says.
“I mean exactly what I said. That man in the forest—the Demon bastard who tried to rape you—he’s dead.”
“But you said you didn’t kill him.”
“I lied,” I say, buckling my belt.
“You lied?”
“Are you a parrot or somethin’, Simone? Yeah, I lied.”
“There’s no need to be rude!” she snaps, looking for a moment like a rich girl talking down to me. I push the image away.
“I’m just telling you the truth,” I say. “What the fuck did you think I’d do? Pat him on his back and send him on his merry way? The prick tried to rape you. I came across him thumping you in the back and . . . Goddamn, Simone. I’d kill him a thousand times over. I don’t regret it at all.”
“I . . .”
I take a step forward, standing directly opposite her. “He was a fuckin’ scumbag. His name was Macky Hill. He’s raped three women that the police know of and probably five times that besides. He only got off because of his Demon connections.”
“How do you know that?” she says. “You could be lying now.”
“I checked his license and called Beast, who called our police contact. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
She looks deep into my eyes. The anger in her expression confuses me. She’s really going to stand there accusing me of lying when a few minutes ago she was acting like I didn’t exist. And yet beneath the budding anger I feel sorry, sorry that we’re standing up in the living room instead of lying down in the bedroom, sorry that we can’t push past this and be together again. It’s like we’re destined to come together and then fall apart right away.
“I don’t know what to think about this,” she says. “I . . . listen, I want to be with you, Rocco. I really want to be with you. Last night was . . . I can’t even explain last night. But I’m not going to stand here and tell you that you’re my knight in shining armor for killing this man. I just can’t.”
“It was my fault he was there anyway,” I say honestly. “Last night you said you didn’t want to think about that. Well, think about it now. You’ve probably been going over it in your head anyway.”
“Why are you being like this?” She narrows her eyes. “What’s gotten into you? I want to be with you. That’s what I’m saying. But—”
“How long is it until somebody else sees us together? Another Demon? And maybe next time I won’t be there to save you. And here you are basically telling me I’m scum for killing a man who tried to fuckin’ rape you.”
“You heard, didn’t you?” she says after a pause. “My phone call with Mom. You heard it.”
I turn away. “I need to get to the club. I’m president now, and my men are dying and bleeding. They need me to be strong.” I make for the door.
“I had to lie to her!” Simone snaps, chasing me. She grabs my shoulder. “I couldn’t tell her. You must know that.”
“Cecilia told them about Shotgun, I bet. I don’t know for sure, but I bet she did.”
“Are you really going to use Cecilia as an example? Is that really your grand plan to win me over?”
“Win you over?” I break out, spinning on her. “Who the fuck said I wanted to win you over? If you want someone to grovel for you go and find some pampered rich kid. I’m fuckin’ done.”
Her mouth hangs open for a second. She begins shaking her head again, and then swipes her hand through the air and curls her upper lip. “Did you really just say that to me?” she says.
I turn back to the door. “I almost got you raped and killed last night, Simone. Maybe you wer
“Well, maybe you should, then! If that’s how you feel!”
It’s not how I feel, I reflect as I walk down the stairs. It’s not how I feel at all. I walk across the street, half of me wanting to charge back up there and make up with Simone, the other half wanting to leave as quickly as possible.
Heading into the alleyway where the jeep is parked, I notice a piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper. It reads: We’re almost even now, Rocco. Macky for Shotgun and Cecilia for our boys. We’re gonna gut that bitch. I never thought you’d fuck your boss’s lady. You must be a bigger asshole than we guessed. You know who this is.
I climb into the driver’s seat, my teeth clench so hard my temples ache. They don’t know that Cecilia has a twin. They think Cecilia is Simone. They think I’m screwing Cecilia, Shotgun’s fiancée. Are they insane?
I take out my cell and dial Beast.
“Boss.”
“I need protection on Simone twenty-four hours a day. And I need you to send two men down to Venice to watch Cecilia, too.”
“All right, consider it done.”
I hang up, watching Simone’s apartment building, waiting for the protection to arrive. I’m right, I reflect. The more time I spend with Simone, the more danger I put her in. It’d be Gerald Hightower’s dream to take me and Simone out at the same time—or me and Cecilia, as he’d see it. Clipping the president and the princess in one hit.
I have to stay away from her.
Chapter 2
Simone
Autumn becomes early winter and Rocco won’t return my calls.
The first couple of weeks I was so angry I’d wait days between calling, so pissed off at the way he just barged out of my apartment that I told myself I didn’t care one way or the other if he picked up. If he wanted to be a selfish douchebag, fine. I didn’t care. But then time passed and I started to get sick with worry, sometimes hunching over the toilet bowl and spewing my guts up for five minutes or more. And on top of that I had the stress of doing two people’s jobs with my MGM contract since their other freelancer bailed on them.
The sickness and the stress and, to top it all off, the men following me . . . I first noticed them on my way to the office. I was already skittish enough after the terror in the forest, so when I saw two bikers trailing me ten cars back, turning at all the same corners and stopping down the street from my office building, I became downright terrified.
Demons chasing me everywhere I go. Sometimes I don’t see them for weeks. Other times I’ll see them three days in a row. I can never relax because I never know if they’re there or not.
The constant fear adds to the sickness. I work fourteen hours a day, sometimes more, wolfing down bad food and vomiting when I get home and wondering why Rocco has abandoned me like this. It isn’t fair. Maybe I shouldn’t have lied to my mom about him, but his reaction was too sudden and violent to be just about that. Maybe there was more underneath it. Maybe it was really about how he felt dirty and criminal. But then, he is criminal.
Tonight, driving back to my apartment, I decide to do something wild, something Cecilia-like. I enter the clubhouse’s address into my GPS. I found it online last week and saved it just in case I summoned the courage to go there. I never thought I actually would, but I’ve had enough of hiding in my office or in my apartment, pretending like the world doesn’t exist, pretending like the only man I’ve ever really wanted isn’t ignoring me. I check my rearview. No bikes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there, out of view, Demons always at my heels.
I stop outside the clubhouse, a squat building with the words Seven Sinners above the entrance in bright blood-red letters. My tongue feels too big in my mouth as I walk across the parking lot, my hands sweaty, my face too warm. I feel sickness churn in my belly as nerves work through me. I have to be brave now. I think about what Cecilia would do. I can criticize my twin sister all I want, but I can’t deny that she knows how to go after something once she’s set her sights on it.
I open the clubhouse door and head toward a glass door with dim light shining against it, a jukebox playing some old country tune, a man strumming laconically on the guitar as he whines about his lady.
As soon as I enter the bar, everything stops. There are around ten men in here, all wearing jackets, some of them drinking whisky, others smoking cigarettes. For a second or two the men are nothing but vague shapes behind the smoke, and then they emerge, one by one, each looking angrier and grimmer than the last. Beast steps forward, hand on his hip.
“Have you got a nut loose?” he asks. “You don’t barge into a clubhouse like that, Cecilia. That’s just not how it’s done. You’re gonna need to leave. If you wanna talk with one of us, that’s fine. But not like this.”
“I want to see him,” I say, ignoring the swilling in my stomach. It’s like there’s a bucket of water in there, all of it sloshing around. I think of the time Cecilia stood up in class and shouted at Mr. Hammersmith that she wouldn’t listen to his sexist remarks any longer. He was a history teacher in the habit of saying things like: “Of course, one couldn’t expect too much from her. After all there’s only “his” in history.” She was brave and wild and didn’t care if she got into trouble.
“What is your name, anyway?” I snap, walking right up to Beast. He’s bigger than Rocco. I can imagine him playing a giant in Game of Thrones.
“You know my name, Cecilia,” Beast mutters.
“You can’t come in here like this!” Jakub springs up from his chair. I remember the way he hit on me at the hen party and shiver. He glances to Beast. “This ain’t Cecilia. It’s her sister.” He turns back to me. “You think you can just barge in here any damn time you please, just barge right in here like you own the place? What do you think this is, a hotel? Do you see any other women in here tonight? No, you don’t. When we want girls maybe we’ll call you, but until then—”
“You better stop talking!” I snap. “If you don’t I’m going to scratch your eyes out.”
The entire bar erupts into laughter. But Jakub isn’t laughing. His lower lips trembles. “I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I’m somebody who’s not leaving until I speak with Rocco! That’s who I am!” I’m too far gone for reason now. I pace over to him, standing so close I can smell his sweat and the smoke from his cigar. “You can talk down to me all you want if it makes you feel big and strong, but I’m not leaving without talking with Rocco. So what do you want to do?” I stand on my tiptoes, feeling scared and strong at the same time. After over two months of working fourteen-hour shifts and vomiting almost every day, it’s good to feel strong.
“You really are a stupid little—” Jakub clamps his mouth shut when Rocco steps from an office in the back.
“Enough,” he says. He speaks quietly but his voice cuts across the room. “Come on then, Simone.”
He returns to his office.
I follow him, feeling the eyes of the Sinners on me. I don’t think about how this would’ve gone had Rocco not been here.
He closes the door behind me and goes to his desk. The office is plain except for a photograph of Rocco and Shotgun above the desk. Rocco drops into a large chair and gestures at the smaller one.
“Is this some intimidation-style thing?” I ask, dropping into the chair. I can imagine Beast sitting in this chair feeling very small.
“They’re just chairs,” he says, looking at the desk.
“Why won’t you look at me?” I ask. “Are you ashamed?”
“Ashamed?” With a visible effort, he meets my eye. “Why would I be ashamed?”
“For ignoring my calls for two months. For making me sick. I’ve been like a madwoman, Rocco. I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been working too much. I’ve forgotten half a hundred things. I put on some washing and left it in the washer for five days before I ran out of clothes. I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but—work is driving me crazy and then I’ve got bikers following me. Demons, Rocco. I’m being followed by Demons and you won’t even return my calls! How do you think that makes me feel? I’m sorry for the phone call, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I’m scared. I’m really, really scared. I check my rearview mirror and I see them sometimes. I see them and I think about that day in the forest and at least then you were there to help me. But now it’s like you don’t even care—”
