The Dom and Her: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Broken Spires MC, #3

By Nicole Fox

The Dom and Her is book 3 and the finale of the Broken Spires MC trilogy!

I HAD A TASTE OF HER. NOW, I'M COMING FOR THE REST.

One more heist, and then I'll be done with this life for good.
In and out. I'd done it a million times. This will be no different.
At least, that's what I thought…
Then Erica showed up.

She was too delicious to pass up.
A pretty city girl in a world far removed from the one she knows.

In other words, easy prey.

Down here, we do things different.
When a man like me wants a woman like her, he doesn't stop to ask questions.
He just takes.
And takes.
And takes.
Until his hunger is sated.

And that's exactly what I did.
The stupid girl was about to get stabbed, but I had a different kind of penetration in mind.
I scooped her up, threw her across my bike, and took her home.

The rest was bare flesh and broken moans.

I wish it had ended there.
But you can't always get what you want.
And this little angel is trying her damndest to drag me back into the underworld I'm desperately trying to escape.

Cut it out, princess.
You don't give the orders around here – I do.
Now get on your knees.
I'm not going to ask twice.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: MBK Hanson Inc.
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386720614

Nicole Fox

Nicole Fox writes smart, sexy mafia romance novels. She is a crazy cat lady in her late 30s with a coffee addiction, an overactive imagination, and a husband who somehow puts up with her impulsive need to keep buying new plants for their house. Sign up for her mailing list at http://bit.ly/NicoleFoxMailingList. 

Book preview

The Dom and Her: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Broken Spires MC) (Book 3)

By Nicole Fox

I HAD A TASTE OF HER. NOW, I’M COMING FOR THE REST.

ONE MORE HEIST, AND then I’ll be done with this life for good.

In and out. I’d done it a million times. This will be no different.

At least, that’s what I thought...

Then Erica showed up.

She was too delicious to pass up.

A pretty city girl in a world far removed from the one she knows.

In other words, easy prey.

Down here, we do things different.

When a man like me wants a woman like her, he doesn’t stop to ask questions.

He just takes.

And takes.

And takes.

Until his hunger is sated.

And that’s exactly what I did.

The stupid girl was about to get stabbed, but I had a different kind of penetration in mind.

I scooped her up, threw her across my bike, and took her home.

The rest was bare flesh and broken moans.

I wish it had ended there.

But you can’t always get what you want.

And this little angel is trying her damndest to drag me back into the underworld I’m desperately trying to escape.

Cut it out, princess.

You don’t give the orders around here – I do.

Now get on your knees.

I’m not going to ask twice.

Chapter One

Dominic

Though the roar of my motorcycle engine battered against my ears, and though my heart thundered, I felt strangely calm. Erica and Thunder needed me. I wouldn’t let them down by panicking, or losing focus.

And yet, as I rode my way to the Crooked Jaw compound, there wasn’t too much to think about. I had no plan. I had no weapons. My fellow Spires had protested both of these, but I wouldn’t risk it.

No! I’d declared. Absolutely not! If they find out I’m armed, or trying something, they could kill Erica or Thunder on the spot!

And though they claimed, again and again, that Thunder knew the risks of the club lifestyle and would not want me doing anything so stupid, they could not deny that Erica was, by all accounts, an innocent bystander. It was strange: I had expected them to harp on Erica the most. Thunder was an old friend, so I’d presumed they’d attack with such things as, You’re gonna die for some slut you just met? Or Come on, buddy. There’s a thousand more like her. But they didn’t.

Maybe they sensed something profound in me when I talked about her. Maybe they were just too conditioned by my harshness, to taking my orders, to try to argue with me.

Yes, I told myself. That was it.

I had been a hard leader for the Broken Spires. A good leader, yes–I’d brought the Flames more territory and fortune than the last three leaders combined. But how did I do such a thing?

I thought of Marco’s hand.

By being hard, I muttered. By being cruel.

But it wasn’t just Marco. All the people who stumbled across the path of my ambition–other Broken Spires, rival bikers, even cops and women–were chewed up by my ruthlessness as easily as a wood chipper devours wood.

I had been an enormously successful motorcycle club leader. But at what cost?

I thought of my initial horror, at seeing Marco’s hand. How I had been sickened, but also excited, triumphant. And how, the next time I left someone broken and bleeding on the ground, as a direct result of my actions–and not just self-defense–my nausea had lessened, and my exultation increased, until, time after time, death after death, I did not feel that horror at all.

Perhaps that was the price of my success: the little piece of myself capable of disgust at the thought of violence. A small fraction of my soul.

Was it worth it? Four weeks ago, I would have said, Yes, definitely! But now...

Something had changed. Even my dreams of retirement–of lavish parties and lewd women, a new one every night, had changed. I thought to myself, That won’t bring that little part of me back. Why should I try? It’s dead anyway.

I imagined it: drink after drink, one night stand after one night stand, all to drown out what I was just coming to realize:

There is a cavity in my heart. A hole bored through so I could attach cruelty and heartlessness, like the dire trophies of a barbaric mountain king.

I inhaled, feeling it ache. I needed it now: that coldness. Perhaps it would help me save Erica.

Maybe that was the point–what made it worth it. If it helped me to rescue Erica, it would all be worth it.

She’s it, I realized, then and there, the vibrations of my bike surging through my body, the wind whipping past my helmet. She’s what I need to fill the hole.

I imagined her instead, in my retirement. Having a home. Maybe a baby. Teaching it to ride a bike, when it was old enough. These daydreams struck as surprising and yet incredibly familiar, as if I had wanted them all along, without really knowing it.

I want a family, and a woman I can love the only way I know how to love anything–fiercely, and to the bitter end. She’s your redemption. She’s your way out. I just have to make sure I find a way to save her.

I thought about our nights together. How, in times of need, I’d been able to rely on her, even though she barely knew me–and what she did know was probably terrifying. And yet, she stood bravely and helped me. Because she was loyal, and kind, and generous. Those are the pieces of my heart I want back.

It was then that I realized, with a cold yet bracing clarity that if saving her meant sacrificing my life–so be it.

At last, I saw the Crooked Jaw compound looming in the distance. It was a grotesque, hideous building surrounding by derelict factories, crouching on a river like a crusty old crustacean among the detritus of its meals. I suppose it was perfect for what the Crooked Jaws wanted: easy clean up, and no one to hear the screams.

The Broken Spires though? We had more class than that.

Before I rode to where my enemies could see me, I paused and turned around, double checking that a team of my allies had not secretly followed in the hopes of rescuing me. I would not have put it past them, so I had been checking the whole time. Fortunately, other