Scorpio

By Ashlynn Monroe

Scorpio: I grew up in foster homes, and I promised myself once I became a man I’d always be in charge of my own fate. One female changed all of that -- and I had to change her diapers! I never planned on raising a daughter, but the stripper I knocked up last summer never told me she was pregnant until she dropped off my kid at the club. Thank God the president’s hot goddaughter is great with kids. But I’m starting to care way too much about Rami and her cobbled-together family. When my being there puts them in danger, I have to make some hard decisions.

Rami: Being a single mom to my own little boy is hard, but when a biker from my brother’s MC needs help with a newborn, I can’t turn him away. Family is the most important thing in my world. I learned a long time ago loving a biker isn’t easy. Trouble is, it’s way too comfortable having Scorpio around! How can I ever let him and his sweet baby girl go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Feb 12, 2022

Ashlynn Monroe

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy wife and mom. She’s been writing since she was a teenager for her own pleasure but in her thirties, she decided it was time to share her stories. She enjoys writing about anything and everything paranormal. When she is not lovingly raising her young family, she is dreaming up her next tale of romance. She’d love to hear from you at [e-mail]. Visit her website at http://ashlynnmonroe.com/ or for her YA books go to http://[e-mail]/.

Book preview

Chapter One

Rami

Hey, Baby Girl, Rand called from the front door of the clubhouse.

I should have known I was in for trouble when he used Daddy’s pet name for me. You know I hate coming here. Why did Mom need me to meet you at the club? I stopped before climbing the steps and crossed my arms over my chest. The bluff was so beautiful in spring. I’d forgotten how fresh the air was up here away from town.

Squinting into the morning sun, I glared at my twin brother. He had the same shade of blond hair I did, at least when mine wasn’t pink like it was now. And mine was short while his hung long enough he’d gathered the thick strands into a pony tail at the base of his neck. Some emotion I couldn’t peg clouded his gray eyes, eyes that mirrored my own.

As angry as I was to be called here, it was good to see Rand again.

I need your help. Mom is fine. I lied, but it’s for a good cause.

I started to walk away.

No. Wait. Rand was down the steps and grabbing my arm as I turned to go back to my car. You’re the only one I could think to call. We have a problem that requires someone I’d trust with a baby.

Now he had my full attention. I turned to look him in the eyes. My brother was always serious, but right now there was a darkness in his gaze that worried me. You expecting? I knew all that tequila and fender fluff wouldn’t end well.

Dial down the jokes. This is serious. Come on.

I hadn’t been inside the club house since Dad’s funeral. Hesitating, I tried not to let show the way my stomach turned and heart raced, but I knew Rand noticed anyway. I hated the sympathy in his eyes. Dad had died protecting me. Rand would never understand my guilt.

Whatever, I grumbled as I marched past him straight into the building.

The smell of oil and stale cigarette smoke was a blast from the past. The soft whine from the car seat on the poker table brought me to where a pink bundle slept. My son had the same car seat when he was an infant, so I knew this model had been recalled. I could tell the baby’s clothing was used as was the frayed blanket.

The smell of a dirty diaper and the hungry fist sucking of the squirming child brought all my maternal instincts out. Two of the oldest members of the club, Rooster and Gas Man, sat next to the car seat. They both wore slightly shell-shocked expressions. What are you guys doing with a baby? Is this your grandchild, Rooster?

Turning to scowl at the grizzled old man, I realized how pale he was. His green eyes were sunken, and he’d lost weight. I hated to see the ravages of age so clearly etched on his features. His reddish hair had grayed so much at the temples that it made a lump form in my throat. He’d taught me algebra and how to ride my bike. He’d been my hero when I was a little girl.

Are you sick, Rooster? I ignored the pang of pain that ran soul deep. Drugs not profitable enough, so you opened a daycare? Rooster was the club president. What he said went, and I knew how they made money.

The old man looked down at the baby and chuckled. Hell no, and no daycare either. My daughter don’t want no Goddamn kids. She’s too much like her daddy. She enjoys her freedom. And my boy, well, he’s never going to settle down. A long ash dangled from the cigarette propped in the corner of Rooster’s lips. That glowing ember hung precariously close to falling into the car seat. I snatched the Marb out of the aging biker’s mouth before it could and crushed it on the floor under my running shoe.

Hey now, Baby Girl, don’t be sassy or you’ll be sorry.

Rooster had been Dad’s best friend. He’d pushed the others to vote Rand in for Sgt. at Arms when my brother was only in his twenties, and older, more experienced members, wanted the post. This old guy loved me and my brother. I wouldn’t have done something so bold with the other guys, but Rooster treated me and Rand like his own. He’d been the one to kick the shit out of Bradley for knocking me up and leaving me. He’d stepped up when Dad died.

You can’t smoke around a baby, Rooster. Please. This isn’t the eighties, it’s not like when Youngster and I were kids. I used Rand’s club name. Where did this baby even come from?

Didn’t your momma have that talk with you, Baby Girl? Gas Man asked. The old guy laughed until he coughed.

The corners of my mouth