Give In: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Steel Phoenix MC, #1

By Paula Cox

GIVE IN is book 1 of the Steel Phoenix MC trilogy. Books 2 and 3, GIVE UP and GIVE HIM EVERYTHING are available everywhere now!

I’ll make her give in to my darkest cravings.
 

She wanted an adventure.
I needed someone to control.
She was so innocent.
So pure that it’d almost be a shame to ruin her.
Almost.

She should have stayed away.
She should have kept her distance.

But now she’s mine to do with as I please.
I destroy beautiful things, and she’s going to be my masterpiece.

Every touch.
Every breath.
Every moan.

Until she can’t remember her own name.
Because she’ll be too busy screaming mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Mar 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386926344

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GIVE IN: Steel Phoenix MC (BOOK 1)

By Paula Cox

I’ll make her give in to my darkest cravings.

SHE WANTED AN ADVENTURE.

I needed someone to control.

She was so innocent.

So pure that it’d almost be a shame to ruin her.

Almost.

She should have stayed away.

She should have kept her distance.

But now she’s mine to do with as I please.

I destroy beautiful things, and she’s going to be my masterpiece.

Every touch.

Every breath.

Every moan.

Until she can’t remember her own name.

Because she’ll be too busy screaming mine.

Chapter 1

Y ou should see the sheer number of assholes walking down the streets here. Astronomical. Nash Reeves scanned the sidewalk to his right, glancing through the passenger window at the groups of college kids strolling along. Backpacks everywhere. Popped collars. Shiny white shoes. Girls in heels. Townies didn’t dress like that, and while most used the term in an attempt to be derogatory, Nash actually preferred the simple townies to puffed up college assholes.

Mick, his long-time buddy in the Steel Phoenix Motorcycle Club, gave a smoke-ridden laugh through the phone speaker in his car’s dashboard, coughing loudly for good measure at the end. When he was through, Nash heard the guy light up again, talking with a cig in his mouth.

Yeah, well, those assholes tend to be dependent users, so try not to piss anyone off too much, Mick said, then gave a low chuckle. Don’t draw attention.

Nash’s thick, dark eyebrows shot up, as he turned his attention back to the road. He missed looking at it through his pristine visor, a helmet set snugly around his head. Being in a car again made him feel as claustrophobic as fuck.

Don’t draw attention? he repeated, rolling his eyes. Sorry Mick, don’t know if we’ve ever met in person before, but—

Yeah, yeah, try not to let all that time in the gym get to your fucking head, his buddy fired back, which made him grin. I’m surprised that head of yours still fits in your helmet.

Had to get the sleeves on my jacket taken out last week, Nash told him—a lie, but he liked to make Mick laugh. "Only way I could get these guns in there without tearing the seams."

All jokes aside, Nash was absolutely the kind of guy to draw attention just by walking down the street. He’d been a lanky fucker in high school, steadily filling out over the four years, and then he turned his bulk to brawn in his twenties. Towering over most of the general population at six foot five, Nash Reeves was the type of biker who made grown men look the other way and little old ladies clutch at their pearls. And he was damn proud of it. Even if he smoked like a chimney on his downtime, he made sure he was in peak physical condition.

After all, overweight assholes who couldn’t do a mile without puking weren’t the kind of people the Steel Phoenixes wanted in their club, and they definitely weren’t the kind to be privy to all their major coke transactions. That was where he made his cash these days: getting drugs out to the cartels. It was a serious world, the drug kind, and little pansies who looked like they’d blow over at the first sign of a strong wind just didn’t make the cut.

Unless the Phoenixes needed little weasels to snitch on rival gangs—then maybe twiggy assholes could land a coveted position in the club.

So, imagine Nash’s surprise when he was dragged into a meeting at the nightclub he and the other Phoenixes co-owned to be told he had a special assignment. No more running drugs. No more threatening deadbeat junkies. No more shooting at the headquarters of rival clubs. Nash had a specific problem to fix, and it wasn’t going to be easy.

Why the fuck do you guys think he’s at the university anyway? he asked, easing the car to a stop at the light.

A cluster of slim, perky college girls paraded across the crosswalk, clearly loving their life of limited responsibilities and binge drinking at four in the afternoon. The bars around campus catered to the large student population at all hours of the day, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a blitzed group from Blackwoods University, stumbling here and there...even when the sun was up. At least these girls had most of their faculties together, even in heels.

Inside source did some digging, Mick told him. All you gotta do is connect the dots, Nash. Find this guy and put a stop to this shit before we lose all our fucking cartel runners.

Nash gritted his teeth, as he recalled the eight fallen brothers who’d died in the last few months, all of them because someone was leaking their supply runs and deal locations to someone else—and that person was wiping the Steel Phoenixes out. They’d been a proud and long-standing MC for as long as Nash could remember, but someone was killing their guys and taking their coke—and it was about fucking time to put an end to it.

No promises I won’t crack this guy’s skull the second I find out who he is, he growled, stepping a little too hard on the gas when the light turned. His massive foot quickly slammed on the brake before he rear-ended the beat-up Honda Civic in front of him.

Hey—Mick’s voice crackled through the car’s speakers—as long as he’s kind of functional, that’s all that matters. We want a confession at least before we put a bullet in his head.

He shrugged. Fair enough.

Nash figured that whoever it was could still confess with all his teeth knocked out, right? Well, more like pulled out. One for every guy Nash had lost since that snitch started leaking secrets and ruining lives.

The north end of the town of Blackwoods housed the university, an institution known for its law and medical programs. Kids flocked from all over the country to study there, flooding the usually quiet town with an influx of people every fall. Nash didn’t mind. While college brats were annoying, Mick was right...sometimes they were their best customers, buying in bulk and distributing it to their friends, helping them de-stress. Whatever. Different strokes for different folks. Even though he’d been a chain smoker since he was twenty, Nash wouldn’t touch any of the harder stuff they dealt. Even alcohol was a hit or miss kind of thing, and he only partook in drunken shenanigans if all his boys partook, too.

Most of the time, he liked keeping all his faculties in check. He wanted to be confident in his abilities—in control of all aspects of his life.

It annoyed the shit out of him that, as he drew nearer to Blackwoods University, he lacked control. Some guy was out there getting the better of him and his fellow Phoenixes, and as of right now, there was nothing he could do about it.

Look, Mick said with a sigh, followed quickly by another short, wheezy cough. "Take the day to get used to things. Scope out the campus. Look into the administration. See if there’s a secretary you