An Outlaw Torn - Book 3: Desert Reapers MC, #3

By Laila Cole

Jenny:

His name makes my body tingle and my heart pound. From the moment I met him I knew that he was the one. He was dangerous, wild, and intense. He was just what I needed, right up until the point our lives collided into a danger unknown. A danger that, for once, I wasn't sure I could handle.

Trent:

To the unsuspecting eye I was just another asshole riding too fast on a motorcycle too loud. To my fellow Desert Reapers MC members I was their President or “Prez” for short. To the cops I was an outlaw. To my momma I was Trent. And to the women I’d bedded over the last fifteen years I was a bastard. Imagine that.

The truth of the matter is that I was a bastard, I am a bastard, and I will always be a bastard, and that’s just the way it is. It was a fact I long ago accepted as immutable, right up until the point I met Jenny. I could change for her... maybe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Supernova Erotica
• Release date: Feb 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524259006

Laila Cole

Hello everyone! I am an author who loves strong, dominant men, and if they happen to be rich or ride in a motorcycle club, well, that's just an added bonus! My stories are filled with suspense, intense situations, twists, and turns. One year ago I left the suck of the finance industry to pursue my dream and my passion, which is turning my fantasies and dreams into novels. There are more stories bouncing around my head than I could tell in a lifetime, though I'm certainly going to try to tell them all! As an added bonus. All of my stories exist in the same universe...so don't be surprised to see a cameo here and there. Don't forget to sign up for my mailing list for updates on new releases. Laila Cole Mailing List:http://eepurl.com/bqLWpf [e-mail] xoxo

Book preview

An Outlaw Torn – Book 3

An Erotic Romance

By

Laila Cole

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bqLWpf

[e-mail]

Copyright 2016 by Laila Cole

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1 - Trent

I rolled up to the Clubhouse with my head aching just as much as my body. What was eating at me more then the blue contusions on my chest, back, arms, and legs was the unknown.

Billy Ray was up to something and I’d figure it out sooner or later, I just hoped I wasn’t too late by the time I did. I’d underestimated him for too long and hoped my Club would survive that mistake.

All that mattered was the Club.

And Jenny. There was something about her that I couldn’t explain, that I didn’t want to explain. It just was and I refused to label it. Once I was finished with Billy Ray and the Confederate Riders I could concentrate on her, and dare I even think it, us.

In order to solve for Billy Ray I needed to find him. And as things stood both him and my Vice President were drifting in the fucking wind. This was unacceptable on both counts. I expected more from my men. From me.

I pulled up to The Axel and the Prospect opened the gate. He walked up to me with a smile. Hey, Prez. What’s going down?

Nothing. When’s your shift up?

In a few hours. I stick around until 2:00 AM until my replacement shows up. Why?

I need you to stick around after. When your shift’s up meet us all in the clubhouse.

The Prospect nodded. Of course.

Thanks. I gave him a nod and rolled into The Axel, passing the empty auto repair bays as I made my way to the clubhouse and parked my bike along side it.

I still didn’t see Pistol’s bike and that shit pissed me off. He should have been here by now. I didn’t know what his dysfunction was but his stint as my Vice President was coming to a screeching halt.

I walked inside with a scowl on my face to my find my men huddled around the bar shooting the shit. What are you bitches doing? I thought I asked you to find Pistol.

Blaze took a drag of a cigarette. He’s out of pocket. Each one of us called him, even from blocked numbers. He didn’t answer his phone or return our voice mails.

Well, did one of you go after him physically?

Blaze ashed his cigarette into a whisky glass and looked back at me. No.

Dust hurried toward me. I can go right now. Just say the word.

Hold your horses, Dust. Not yet.

I ran my hands along my beard and walked behind the bar to pour myself a whisky. There were only three options as to why his sorry ass hadn’t shown up. One, he’d deserted the Club. Two, Billy Ray had him. And three, he’d betrayed the Club. At this point, with his shitty attitude, I had to legitimately consider all three options as equally plausible, as much as it hurt to admit it.

I took another sip of my whisky when my phone rang. It was Jim. All three of my men looked at me as if they knew I was hiding something from them. I answered it anyway as I made eye contact with Blaze. Talk to me.

Jim sighed. You’re not going to like this.

Don’t beat around the bush. I don’t like it. What’s up?

Check it out. I got curious after you left given how vehemently Sherman was defending himself. I scanned the Indian Reservation dispatch frequencies. He was telling the truth, as far as I can tell. I think your man must have lied to you.

Shit! I threw a shot glass across the clubhouse and it shattered against a wall.

Calm down, Trent. Getting riled up won’t help your situation.

How can you be sure you’re right? What happened?

Ten minutes ago a large group of bikers were picked up that The Flint Knap Bar and Grill. I guess they beat the shit out of some Natives. And get this, the Reservation police just let them go without any charges.

I was starting to feel the panic. How many were there?

Jim sighed again. That’s where things get tricky. There were only a handful but there are also noise complaints rattling across the radio from residents near the Arizona Village campgrounds. Every one of them is saying the same thing: there’s a large group of bikers camping out and getting rowdy. This matches up precisely with what Sherman said.

I started to sweat. There were only two options regarding Pistol left, either he had turned on me, or he was under Billy Ray’s control, otherwise he wouldn’t have lied. My hands were shaking with rage. Is there anything else I need to know?

No. The Coroner’s on his way to come clean up Sherman, I don’t expect any issues there. It’s a clear cut case of gang violence if I’ve ever seen one. He started to laugh.

I wasn’t laughing. Not in the least. This shit isn’t funny.

He stopped laughing abruptly. Shit, I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to head over to Arizona Village and get eyes on this, just in case. I’ll call you back in an hour or so. Cool?

Be careful, man. These guys are dangerous and they’ve long ago paid for the rez police. Don’t get too close to this. You’ve been warned.

He