Motley Kings Morcycle Club, Book 1
The brothers of the Motley Kings Motorcycle Club in north-central Texas own a completely legal cattle ranch, run a semi-legal protection service, and have become magnets for women desperately in need of help outside the law.
When Hondo, a member of the Motley Kings Motorcycle Club, loses the use of his bike, he accepts the loan of a truck from Price Anderson, a young, beautiful, and very wealthy neighbor.
A college student and landowner, Price is unaware of the dangers that come with messing in bike club business. She recklessly follows Hondo into a risky situation, and the Motley Kings MC immediately takes full advantage of her mistake.
Price is shocked to find herself entangled in the legal dealings of a semi-legal motorcycle club, but she gives in to the temptation of patched club member Hondo, the sexy biker who has Price enjoying hot Texas afternoons on the bed of her fancy pool house.
Until her family learns of her shady alliance with the Kings and convinces her to cut ties with them.
When a rogue motorcycle club targets Price and tries to force her into accepting a dirty legal deal, Hondo – the biker she’d fallen into bed with, fallen in love with, and had to walk away from – becomes her only hope.
This series does contain dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.
“How’s business?” Hondo sat at a table in the town’s only coffee shop across from the shop’s owner, his cousin Tandy. Hondo had been riding by and stopped in for a late-afternoon caffeine hit. He rubbed his chin, feeling road dirt in his short, black scruff.
Tandy shrugged and tucked her shoulder-length black hair behind her left ear. “I don’t want to say dead because that’s just too cliché for a town named Flatline, but yep, business has been slow at the Flatline Cafe.”
“Wow.” A man sitting at a table near the window shouted. He was looking outside. “Oh, shit.”
Hondo felt a blast of panic. His bike was out there. He gripped his cut, which sat on his lap because Tandy didn’t allow the Motley Kings, or any other motorcycle club members, to wear their leather vests in her coffee shop.
The guy turned toward Hondo. “Man, is that your bike out front?” His eyes were wide.
“Fuck.” Hondo stood and moved fast for the door, shoving his arms into his cut as he went. He blasted out onto the sidewalk to see his bike…lying on its right side….where he’d backed it into the nice, wide parking space between two cars. “Fuck.” He stomped toward it and the woman standing over it.
She stared at the bike, tears running down her cheeks. A long, white brace was wrapped around her left leg, and she balanced on crutches. Her gaze shot to his. “I’m so sorry.” Long, blonde hair and a tall, curvy body in a blue tank top and short denim shorts.
He spotted what must be her car right behind her with the driver’s door standing open. A 1960s red two-door muscle car in showroom condition. She backed toward it, clumsy, using the crutches.
Gritting his teeth so he didn’t rip her a new asshole, figuratively, he walked up to her and let out a slow breath. Calm down, Hondo. She could have injured herself. “Do you need help? Are you hurt?”
She looked at him, blinking her really pretty blue eyes and sending more tears down her face. “No, I’m fine. Unfortunately, your bike stopped me from falling when I lost my balance.” She grimaced.
He turned to look at his bike, poor Old Girl. He ran his hand through his short hair. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the bike, then one of the blonde, her car, and the license plate on the front bumper.
His cousin walked up behind him. “Everyone okay?”
Crutches girl nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Tandy patted his arm. “I’ll be in the shop if you need anything.”
Hondo nodded to Tandy. “Thanks.” He walked around to the right side of the bike and turned to see five people on the sidewalk staring at him. “I can get this. You can move along.” Hondo growled the words.
The gawkers scattered, and he glanced at the girl.
She looked at him like she was waiting for her turn to be growled at.
He leaned down and took a closer look at his bike. The big old red American-made beauty was his only true love. No fluids were leaking, luckily.
He took a few more photos then slid his phone into the inside pocket of his cut. He looked to make sure the kickstand was down, then shifted the bike into gear to lock the back tire.
“Do you need help getting it up?” The crutches girl called.
He looked at her and frowned. He’d usually make a sexy comeback right then, but he wasn’t feeling anything close to a good mood.
Her cheeks turned red. “I mean, can you lift it by yourself?”
“Yeah, of course.” He jerked his head toward her car. “You should sit down before you fall over. Again.” His words came out rough, but he didn’t care. This was a total cluster fuck. By the time they got two insurance companies involved, got quotes submitted, and he got a payment to get it fixed, it could be weeks down the road.
He squatted with his back against the seat, grabbed the right handlebar with his left hand, and the underside of the seat with his right. “Ok, girl. Here we go.” He slowly straightened his legs, bringing the bike up with him. He walked it back until it rested on the kickstand.
Looking over at her, he saw she’d taken his advice. She sat sideways on her driver’s seat but had a wide-eyed look on her face.
He walked around the bike, checking every inch of it, and pulled out his phone. The shiny red gas tank was dented, paint chipped off. “Fuck.”
“I really am so sorry.” Her voice still sounded wobbly. “I was getting into my car, and I lost my balance. I just had knee surgery.” She sniffled. “I am so sorry.”
He ignored the draw to calm her and snapped pictures of the air cleaner, pipes, pedals, oil tank, and handlebars. Everything was messed up to some degree. “You got insurance?”
“Yes, I do. But I will pay for all the damage myself.” Her voice was shaky.
He stopped and looked at her. That was good. No insurance to fuck around with. What was her story? Too many accidents and insurance claims? Was she about to lose her coverage? Or her license?
She blinked quickly and looked away. More tears ran down her cheeks as she reached into a small bag that hung on a strap across her body and took out her phone and wallet. “I’ll send you a picture of my driver’s license and insurance card just so you have them, but I’ll pay for everything up front.” She bobbled her phone and wallet but caught them before they got away from her.
“Relax, okay?” He walked to her, bracing his feet apart and looking down at her.
“Yes. Sorry.” She looked up at him with a pitiful expression.
He didn’t want to admit how that look on her face hit him as really cute. Or that she was damn sexy, and he’d like to pull her into his arms and help her calm down.
She set her ID on her bare leg and took a picture of it. Looking up at him, she swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Your phone number?”
He wished he had an old-fashioned handkerchief to offer her. He rattled off his number, and she plugged it into her phone. A few seconds later, his phone rumbled, and he unlocked the screen. A shot of her license with her picture on it. Pretty, without all the tears and snot. He checked her birthdate. Shit, she just turned twenty-one. Her name was… He smiled and looked at her. “Princess?”
She looked up at him and frowned. “I go by Price.”
He nodded. Interesting. He’d like to hear the story behind that. Checking her address, he couldn’t place the street name, but it was in Flatline. He’d have to look it up later. He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t. No stalking her, even online. At least until this shit was cleared up.
His phone rumbled again, and a picture of her vehicle registration popped up. Then the third document came in; her insurance card. “Okay, got ‘em.”
She’d found a tissue and was mopping up. “Can you drive it? Will it run?” Her face looked so worried he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Turning to his bike, he pulled the key from the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll try. If it doesn’t run—”
“We’ll get a flatbed.” She pushed up and used the crutches to stand. “And we’ll have it moved to wherever you want.” She sucked in an uneven breath. “Do you know a good shop?”
He nodded. “My brother-in-law has a place a few miles east of town. By the river.”
“Okay. I think I know it.” She looked more confident now.
He hiked his leg over the bike and turned the key, then pressed the ignition button. It started right away. “Good girl.” He would hate being without her for however long repairs would take.
Price sat on her driver’s seat. “I’ll follow you.” She wrestled the crutches into the car, then contorted her body all weird and tricky to get her left leg into the vehicle with the stiff brace. She closed the door and started the car. The motor purred, loud and powerful.
He’d like to drive that baby someday. But that wasn’t first on his mind. Had to get an estimate of when his bike would be fixed. And he’d need to get a loaner car.
He looked at Price, pointed east, and when she nodded, he booted up the kickstand and shifted into gear. He took off slow. Everything sounded okay.
In the mirror, he watched her back out of her parking spot and follow him. He felt kinda bad for her. She was probably fucking embarrassed. And then, when she saw him in his leather and boots, probably afraid of what he was going to do to her. Shit, she had to be in pain with her knee getting all banged up.
At his brother-in-law’s shop, the door of the first service bay stood open. He drove right in and cut the motor. She pulled her car up about ten feet back, turned off the engine, and rolled down the window.
Hondo’s brother-in-law, Darren, walked up to him from the left, a rag in his hand, his curly red hair tied up in a man bun. “What’s going on?”
“Take a look at the other side.” He got off the bike.
Darren’s eyes went wide, and he walked around it. “Oh, hell.” He frowned at him. “You okay? Did you go down on her?”
“No. She was parked.”
His sister, Becca, walked up to him. Her shoulder-length black hair now had wild red streaks in it. “Hey, Hondo. Bike trouble?” Her eyes were the same dark blue his were.
“Look at this shit.” Darren pointed to the bike.
She walked over and stood beside him. “Oh, no. Not Old Girl.” She looked Hondo up and down. “You okay, brother?”
The two of them stared at him. They knew how much he loved this bike.
“I’m good. I was parked outside Tandy’s shop, and the woman in the red car behind me….”
They both looked past him, then back at him.
“She accidentally pushed it over.” He didn’t want to go into details. “But she’s gonna pay for it upfront. No insurance. So I need you to come up with an estimate for—”
Becca stomped her foot. “That’s bullshit. She just knocked your bike over?”
“Yeah, honey.” Darren spoke in a calm voice but focused on the bike. “It sure is.” He bent over, then squatted, frowning at the damage. “Go on back to the office, Becca. We’ll figure out a nice, padded price to charge her.”
She puffed out a breath and stomped away.
Hondo squatted next to Darren. “Not too high a padding, man. I kinda want to see if she’ll go out with me after all this is done.”
Darren laughed. “Yeah, I figured you’d want to get your ass deep inside that sweet ride of hers.”
He rubbed his hand over his hair. “Shit. You makin’ one of them double entendre things?” He laughed.
His brother-in-law shrugged. “If that’s what I think it is, then yep. I’m thinking you’re gonna be chasing her…and her car.”
“Just….” Hondo laughed and gestured to the bike with a smile. “Just do your job, fucking smart ass.”
Price watched the hot motorcycle guy and the two people from the repair shop stare at the bike and talk.
She felt so flippin’ stupid, stumbling like she was drunk, ramming into his motorcycle.
Her face flushed hot again. But the motorcycle had kept her from hitting the ground and needing to ask some random passerby to help her get to her feet. Still, it made her chest hurt to see how the guy adored that big, beautiful bike she’d damaged.
And she wished someone adored her that much. Maybe she could ask the guy out…after the motorcycle was fixed…and when she could walk without crutches again.
Damn, how much was this going to cost? Would her mother notice the charges on her credit card? Hopefully, Mom was too busy with her construction project in East Asia to check her daughter’s spending.
One of the people in the garage, a woman with red-streaked black hair that reached her shoulders, stormed out of the garage, marching right toward her.
Price leaned out the window, smiling.
The woman stopped next to the driver’s door and jammed her fists on her hips. She had to be related to the biker judging by her facial features and those dark blue eyes that were just like his. “You think because you’re rich, you can just sit out here all fancy and mighty? Like you’re too good to hear all the damage you did? Lazy ass bitch.”