Brawl (Book 2): Blazers MC, #2

By Claire St. Rose

This is book 2 of the Blazers MC romance series! Book 3 is available everywhere now!

There's no protection in the world that can keep her safe from me.

JENNA

I knew my brother was in trouble.

I just didn't know that he was in six-foot-four, 250 pounds of tattooed trouble.

I can ignore Mark's drug habit all I want.

But there's no ignoring the biker who sits in Mark's living room with a loaded gun aimed at me.

I'll do anything to protect my brother from the drug dealer hell-bent on ending his life.

Even if it means bending over for the monster sent here to destroy him.

REV

I'm a gun-for-hire.

It's how I prefer things: easy cash, no questions asked, and nobody commands my loyalty but me.

I've had this place staked-out for a long time.

I know the curvy little blonde is my target's sister.

I'd rather not get her involved, but she refuses to go away.

She's as beautiful as she is oblivious.

She thinks she can talk me out of the job I've been sent to do.

But suddenly, I find myself willing to listen.

With every piece of clothing she strips away, my interest grows.

Accepting Jenna's offer – her body in exchange for her brother's life – will no doubt incur the wrath of my employers.

Screw it.

Let them rain hellfire down on us.

I won't leave until I've made her mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393563976

Book preview

Brawl: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blazers MC Book 2)

By Claire St. Rose

There’s no protection in the world that can keep her safe from me.

JENNA

I knew my brother was in trouble.

I just didn't know that he was in six-foot-four, 250 pounds of tattooed trouble.

I can ignore Mark’s drug habit all I want.

But there’s no ignoring the biker who sits in Mark’s living room with a loaded gun aimed at me.

I'll do anything to protect my brother from the drug dealer hell-bent on ending his life.

Even if it means bending over for the monster sent here to destroy him.

REV

I'm a gun-for-hire.

It's how I prefer things: easy cash, no questions asked, and nobody commands my loyalty but me.

I've had this place staked-out for a long time.

I know the curvy little blonde is my target's sister.

I’d rather not get her involved, but she refuses to go away.

She’s as beautiful as she is oblivious.

She thinks she can talk me out of the job I’ve been sent to do.

But suddenly, I find myself willing to listen.

With every piece of clothing she strips away, my interest grows.

Accepting Jenna’s offer – her body in exchange for her brother’s life – will no doubt incur the wrath of my employers.

Screw it.

Let them rain hellfire down on us.

I won’t leave until I’ve made her mine.

Chapter 1

Rev

Jenna hasn’t spoken in over an hour. And hell if I don’t love every minute she has those full, glossy lips closed.

The bike seems to be the only way to shut the girl up. It’s given me time to think about what the fuck happened in the last hour. First, there were her escape attempts—if you could call them that. I blame myself—something I rarely do. I saw them coming. Even the dumbest hamster in a cage tries to get out at least once. Yet, here I was, stupid enough to let Jenna slide.

Well, not exactly slide, per se. I mean, I got my way in the end. I almost fucked her. If it hadn’t been for the damn landlord and his prying, I would’ve gone all the way on that pussy, but instead, I’m pissed off, with a dick that desperately needs to finish what it started.

Still, can I blame him? Can’t fault the guy for not wanting trouble when your entire building is full of convicts, addicts, and prostitutes. He runs a refuge for the worst of society; a place where scum of the Earth like me can freely roam. And he’s got that little kingdom he oversees to protect. What he did do, however, was remind me that there were eyes and ears everywhere. It’s a lesson I should’ve picked up years ago doing my freelance work, but I seemed to ignore it this time around. And something tells me that those eyes and ears aren’t far behind us.

Enrique has always been defensive over his commands. What he says is absolute and final. There are no questions; the task gets done right away. While I appreciate that efficiency, and am usually quick to keep up, I’m stalling when it comes to Jenna.

He was pretty clear with me on what he needed me to do—kill the girl. In his mind, that would send a message to her deadbeat brother Mark not to fuck with him or join her in whatever landfill I dump her body in. While it’s not my thing to be a killer, it was a damn simple task that could’ve been done and over with when I slammed her down on her back on top of the dresser.

But what dumb shit do I do instead? I go down on her. I took her sweet-smelling puss and devoured that thing like I was the one in need of a last meal. And when I had finished, I hoisted her up on my cock and waited for her to take me.

Who the fuck am I today? What the hell happened to the guy who was one and done with girls as soon as they served their purpose (which is almost always sooner rather than later?) What did I do to the version of me who refused to mix business with pleasure?

The drive to Lockport is helping me get that mojo back. Being on the back of the bike always does. It’s like transforming into a werewolf or something mythical like that. I strip away everything holding me back to become the beast I stuff away.

I quickly count back the years in my mind. I’m coming up on my twelve-year anniversary riding. I was eighteen when I first got on a bike solo. At that time, I’d been out of the house for two years, having run away from my parents when they finally acted on their threat to put me in military school. I never did finish high school, but I got a whole lot of life lessons on the south side streets of Joliet. I saw guys beaten within an inch of their lives and let go. I saw guys get gunned down with absolutely no warning. I even participated in some of the nastiest shit you can imagine.

When I turned eighteen, a friend of mine’s dad asked if I wanted to take a ride on his Harley for fun. It was a beater he kept in the back of his garage. The little kid wide-eyed with snot running down his nose practically shouted yes. He showed me the basics and made me ride bitch the first few times, but after an hour, I had figured it out enough to take a cruise around some alleyways.

That was the day I knew I’d never go back. There was no turning around. I couldn’t go back to that home with those crosses and my mom holding the Bible to my chest as she talked about my sins. I couldn’t face my dad who expected obedience and didn’t mind using his fists to get it. I couldn’t be the person they wanted me to be.

So, I stole a bike—my friend’s dad’s bike, actually—and took