Hope

By C. Tyler

People think the MC life is dangerous, that it’s filled with violence and death. They’re right—but I’ve never felt safer.The real world is what broke me, what scarred me and left me afraid.
This world of debauchery and insanity is where I belong. I belong with them, with him.
I never should have left. I never should have left the men who’d willingly kill for me, because they just might have to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Nov 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773394855

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2017 C. Tyler

ISBN: 978-1-77339-485-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I’d like to thank everyone who helped support my constant need to create stories, and the wonderful team at Evernight for taking a chance with me.

HOPE

Romance on the Go ®

C. Tyler

Copyright © 2017

Chapter One

The bar is in full swing when I arrive, which I expect. I just want a drink, want to be around the familiar, and whether people would believe me or not—these crazies were my familiar.

Women hung on the shoulders of rough-looking men, bikers dotted the entire area, and the music was loud. This was the sort of place people with common sense didn’t travel, and even law enforcement was a bit skeptical. Then again, half the cops were on the payroll, so…

I park my car near the back and head towards the bar. It has no name because it isn’t meant for the normal public. The block I’m standing in belongs to a single owner. It houses a mechanics shop, a bar, and a repo/junkyard. It was a substantial amount of real estate, but all of it was designed to make money. The bar sold drinks, the mechanics fixed cars, and the repo yard brought in commissions from the banks and dealerships that hired them. It was a decent setup.

Wearing a plain t-shirt, jeans, and an oversized hoodie, I stand out. With my hair tied sloppily into a bun and a pair of large-framed glasses resting on my nose, I draw a few eyes from the patrons. I look nothing like the women wearing skimpy strips of leather, fishnet stockings, and crop tops. But I don’t care. I really don’t, and I can’t make myself if I tried.

I push through the crowd and into the building to find more of the same. Some of the aforementioned women are dancing on poles set up in the corner of the bar, some are straddling different men offering lap dances, and some are brazenly offering services to the guys without a care as to who may witness. A single brow arches as I stare at them openly sucking dick before I make my way towards the bartender.

What? he barks at me when I make it to the lacquered bar.

Beer, I reply.

He reaches into the cooler just beneath my line of sight, pulls a bottle from the icy bath, and pops the top before handing it to me. I vaguely hear him tell me the cost, but I brush him off. I have no intention of paying, and the leather cut he’s wearing around his back doesn’t frighten me.

Hey! he yells at me when I walk away. Again, I don’t respond as I take a long pull from the bottle. Goddammit, I hear him spit angrily before there’s a clamor. A moment later, he grabs my arm, and spins me around to face him. I stare back blankly. I said four bucks, bitch.

I scoff and eye him as though he’s less than nothing, and I can see the anger it brings out. His frantic dash to catch me has begun to draw attention, but neither of us pay attention.

I’m not paying, I tell him flatly.

Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ pay, he says. I’m either getting the cash, or I’m takin’ it out of that ass of yours.

Touch me, and I promise it won’t end well for you. I’m not trying to threaten him. I just want him to be aware of what’ll happen.

His eyes ignite, and I can tell I’ve struck a chord. Clearly, this guy isn’t used to women talking back to him. I don’t know if it’s the last few years, the epic drive I’ve been on all day, or my impending exhaustion that gives