The Outlaw's Bride: Skullbreakers MC, #1

By APRIL LUST

The Outlaw's Bride is book 1 of the Skullbreakers MC trilogy. Books 2 and 3, The Outlaw's Gift and The Outlaw's Prize are available everywhere now!

I'LL KEEP HER SAFE. I'LL KEEP HER CLOSE. AND I'LL KILL ANY OTHER MAN WHO TOUCHES HER.

She should have stayed in my past.
But now that she's back…
I'm going to make sure she never leaves again.

I might seem cruel.
Or overprotective.
But if there's one thing I've learned in this world, it's this:
You gotta find what you love and hold it close.

She got away once.
Never, ever again.

Because when I learn what she took with her, I explode.

No one – NO ONE – hides my son from me.

It seems I've got to teach pretty little Angel a lesson or two.
This won't be the sweet reunion she might've been expecting.
It's going to be dark, sweaty, and brutal.

Because I'm an outlaw.
And when you're my bride… you're playing by my rules.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sopris Page Press
• Release date: Nov 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386216834

Book preview

THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE: Skullbreakers MC (Book 1)

By April Lust

I’LL KEEP HER SAFE. I’LL KEEP HER CLOSE. AND I’LL KILL ANY OTHER MAN WHO TOUCHES HER.

SHE SHOULD HAVE STAYED in my past.

But now that she’s back...

I’m going to make sure she never leaves again.

I might seem cruel.

Or overprotective.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this world, it’s this:

You gotta find what you love and hold it close.

She got away once.

Never, ever again.

Because when I learn what she took with her, I explode.

No one – NO ONE – hides my son from me.

It seems I’ve got to teach pretty little Angel a lesson or two.

This won’t be the sweet reunion she might’ve been expecting.

It’s going to be dark, sweaty, and brutal.

Because I’m an outlaw.

And when you’re my bride... you’re playing by my rules.

Chapter 1

Angel

The hot, still air felt like a blanket around me as I walked around the Centerville Public Library, closing the windows. It had been a quiet July day — not many patrons, only the regulars. I loved my job working at the local library, but sometimes it left me alone in my head for too long. My favorite days were when students came in and asked for help with research projects. Then I’d be drawn into helping them and forget about everything else running through my mind.

It felt strange that I’d wound up in Centerville. I’d spent the whole first part of my life trying to run away. I didn’t love the town — it didn’t suit me. It never had. Growing up, Mom and Daddy had taken me on vacations all around the world. I’d never gotten over the thrill of waking up on a plane and seeing a whole new world at my feet. I loved Europe. We spent our summers walking through old cities on older cobblestones, eating at sidewalk cafés, and shopping for the most wonderful things imaginable. I loved it. I was always depressed for weeks when I’d get back home. America, especially Centerville, always seemed so ugly afterwards. Even in our big house, with four stories and servants, I still felt alone. Usually I’d spend the next six months after a trip dreaming about the next one. I loved to travel. Back then, I thought I’d grow up and travel the world with my love and my family at my side. Back then it hadn’t seemed impossible.

I always thought I’d grow up to be just like Mom and Daddy. They’d met in college — he was her professor — and fallen instantly in love. Even though they had a vast age difference, nothing came between them. The three of us were a perfect little family, and I loved it. When I was sad or scared, I just closed my eyes and imagined we were a royal family, living in exile. That always made me feel better. I knew it was childish, but I couldn’t help it. It was the fantasy I’d always carried out.

I thought I’d go to college and find a husband, then get married and settle down and have a lot of kids. I waited for that one special guy, the one who would chase me, the one who was desperately in love with me and told me all the time. But he never came. And by the time I was a teenager, things were starting to change at home. Mom was becoming obsessed with aging. Every day when I got home, she’d have some new mud treatment or mask on, or she’d been recovering from another round of facial injections. It was like she was terrified of becoming old. She lost her temper with me all the time and began to snap at me whenever Daddy would give into me about whatever I wanted. I was frightened; this wasn’t the Mom I’d always known. I still loved her; I desperately craved her approval. But no matter what I did, things between us got tenser and tenser with each passing day. Daddy wouldn’t interfere after I became a teenager. Whenever I went to him and told him Mom and I were fighting, he’d light his pipe, look me in the eye, and say, Respect your mother, Angel. You know I raised you better than this.

It was infuriating. Even if Mom was being completely unfair, Daddy took her side. That was when things started falling apart around us. I was bored at home. Mom wouldn’t let me take a summer job — she said only peons did that — and I started sneaking out at night. There was a crowd of kids that used to hang around at a gas station downtown. One night, I worked up the courage to go meet them. I wore my sexiest outfit — a sheer white button-down shirt over a white baby doll dress — and hoped for the best. But all of the kids knew I was an outsider. They didn’t recognize me. They went to public school and I went to Hayworth Academy, a few counties over. Closing my eyes, I saw myself back there as though it were yesterday. I could still remember the feel of the hot dry dust in my nostrils as I snuck along the back road. The neon signs glowing in the windows had illuminated the gas station in a garish yellow, but I’d been more relieved than ever to finally reach my goal.

Look at this little bitch, one of the rough-looking girls sneered at me when I lowered myself onto a bench in front of the gas pumps.

I’d worn chunky sandals with crisscross straps and my feet were aching and swollen. I wasn’t used to walking in heels, and I definitely wasn’t used to walking on country roads for the better part of an hour. My whole body was covered in perspiration and I wiped a clammy hand on my damp forehead. The night was humid and dark and I could feel my red hair had