Rough as an Outlaw (Book 2): Seven Tribesmen MC, #2

By Paula Cox

This is book 2 of the Seven Tribesmen MC romance series! Book 3 of this dark motorcycle club romance is available everywhere now!

 

Nobody does it rougher than Bishop.

 

She came to lock me up.

But in the end, she'll set me free.

Free from the darkness clouding my soul.

And free from the men who want me dead and gone.

 

BISHOP

 

I'm not gentle. I'm not kind.

But the ladies can't stay out of my bed.

They know a real man when they see one.

They know I'll kill to protect what's mine.

 

But Stella Holmes is different than most.

She thinks she can stand up to me.

Hell, she thinks she can take me down.

 

But what Agent Holmes doesn't realize is that – behind that badge, beneath that suit – is a body.

A woman's body.

One that sees me and knows exactly where she belongs:

 

On her knees, doing exactly what I say.

 

STELLA

 

The biker thinks he's above the law.

I'm here to prove him wrong.

 

But it won't be easy.

Bishop is used to getting his way with women.

It's not hard to see why.

He's tall, alpha, dark, dominant.

Every word is spoken like I was born to serve him.

 

And the longer I'm in his presence, the more I start to think he might be right.

 

But Bishop has demons below the surface.

He thinks hurting people is the only way to live.

I have to show him there's another way…

 

Or I'll have to drag him into prison myself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393889922

Book preview

Rough as an Outlaw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Seven Tribesmen MC Book 2)

By Paula Cox

NOBODY DOES IT ROUGHER than Bishop.

She came to lock me up.

But in the end, she’ll set me free.

Free from the darkness clouding my soul.

And free from the men who want me dead and gone.

BISHOP

I’m not gentle. I’m not kind.

But the ladies can’t stay out of my bed.

They know a real man when they see one.

They know I’ll kill to protect what’s mine.

But Stella Holmes is different than most.

She thinks she can stand up to me.

Hell, she thinks she can take me down.

But what Agent Holmes doesn’t realize is that – behind that badge, beneath that suit – is a body.

A woman’s body.

One that sees me and knows exactly where she belongs:

On her knees, doing exactly what I say.

STELLA

The biker thinks he’s above the law.

I’m here to prove him wrong.

But it won’t be easy.

Bishop is used to getting his way with women.

It’s not hard to see why.

He’s tall, alpha, dark, dominant.

Every word is spoken like I was born to serve him.

And the longer I’m in his presence, the more I start to think he might be right.

But Bishop has demons below the surface.

He thinks hurting people is the only way to live.

I have to show him there’s another way...

Or I’ll have to drag him into prison myself.

CHAPTER 1

Fifteen minutes after ten, Stella's car crunched into the gravel of the Rusty Bear. She had spent a portion of the day arguing with herself, reaffirming she wouldn't go, and – finally – giving in to the prickly attraction that gripped at her thoughts. The woman felt a little bad, being so late. She wasn't even sure if Bishop would still be around.

As she sat in her car, staring at the neon sign that hunkered over the squat building, anxiety climbed up her throat. The anxiety worsened when she saw the choppers – not one, but five – lined up near the door. Stella attempted to still her nerves as she turned off her car, clutching the keys in her hand.

She should leave; she shouldn't even go in. Entertaining Bishop would only spell disaster for herself and her career. The man only wanted to bed her, confuse her, and compromise the case. Stella swallowed as all the reasons to not go inside clenched at her stomach.

Temptation sliced through the worries. It dangled Bishop's dancing grey eyes and irritatingly handsome smirk across her inner eye. Then it replayed their night together, and Stella shuddered. She could still feel his hands on her, still feel the pleasure locked into her marrow.

A sudden knock on her window startled the woman. She jerked, before turning her gaze toward the man gaily waving at her from the other side. Stella blinked and rolled down her window a fraction, unease suddenly crawling over her skin. Something terrifying and electric tinted the air. Unconsciously, the woman checked her holster on her hip.

Do you need something, sir? Stella forced a plastic smile to her face and urged her body language to relax.

Yeah, uh, y'see I got off the interstate to get something to eat and, well, I think I'm turned around, the man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Do you think you could give me directions?

Yeah, um, Stella shook the cobwebs from her head, focusing herself. The man just needed directions and, though she hadn't been there long, she had a fair sense of direction. Just head north on this road, turn left and go through main square. Take a right at seventh and you should be able to follow the signs from there.

The man followed her pointing finger, moving his own hands with hers. His brow furrowed as if he were mentally mapping out the movements. Finally, he laughed, This is going to sound so lame, but which way is north?

Stella pointed behind her, to her left, That way.

Great, great, Can I, uh, buy you a drink or something? As thanks.

I'm actually meeting someone here.

You sure? I'd love to buy a lovely lady like you a drink.

No, thank you, but– The glass in the passenger side door shattered. Surprised, Stella jerked and bit out a curse. A man, wearing a mask, had rammed a crowbar into her window. Her right hand undid her seat belt, releasing her. Her hair stood on end a microsecond before her own window shattered. Stella barely managed to shield herself as a pair of meaty hands groped for her.

A string of cusses flew through her mind. Her hand fumbled for her keys in the ignition, her obscenities pouring from her mouth as she realized she had taken them out. She had probably dropped them from surprise, earlier. Fingers tugged at her shirt and hair, insistent to haul her from the vehicle. Her brain erratically estimated at least five men. The other windows in the car shattered, and more arms and hands reached in to snatch her out of her seat.

Adrenaline pumped through Stella's blood as her fingers grappled for her gun. The bar was close. If she could even get close to the entrance, someone was bound to see her or hear her. Hell, someone should come running out when they heard gunshots! She raised her right hand, the gun poised at the attackers crawling and climbing through the windows. Without looking, she fired four shots into the man at her door.

Her left hand found its way to the door release, slamming the little handle back until it cracked. Stella slammed the weight of her body against the door. An attacker – maybe the man who feigned confusion – let out a grunt and stumbled back, two red splotches growing on his white shirt.

The scent of gunpowder and the echo of the bullets hung in the air. Stella kicked her way out of the car, stepping on the man she had shot. Adrenaline seared through her blood vessels, her hand clutching her gun tightly. Another man close to her grabbed for her arm in a bruising grip. Stella yowled, another set of hands wrenching her gun from her hand. They had surrounded her. Some climbed through her car in her momentary lack of concentration, others charged her from around the car, some even bumbled for their guns in their waistbands.

Stella's heart thrummed in her chest. Who were these assholes? Cocaine dealers? A rival gang? Cop-hating vigilantes? What did they want? What was happening?

Her thoughts flew a mile a minute as her frazzled brain tried to make sense of her situation. Stella threw out kicks and fists while attempting to bite the hands that restrained her. A hot sense of satisfaction swelled through her head whenever someone pulled away or yelped. Get off me! Let go, asswipes!

The cock and click of a trigger near her nose made Stella freeze. Her brown eyes widened, face suddenly cold in the night air, as her gaze flicked to the gunman's face. Cold blue eyes stared down at her from an impassive, plastic mask. Stella's heart cowered in her throat, fingers flexing, while her stomach dropped dismally to her knees. In the yellowish light of the street lamps, the woman realized there were seven men in total. Uncertainty shuddered in her marrow. The woman had no clue what would happen next.

Heavy footfalls echoed out of the bar and crunched into the gravel of the parking lot. Stella's eyes darted to the people who just exited the bar. The sudden fear that they would simply carry on, simply ignore gang violence in their own backyard, blossomed in her thoughts.

Then she registered whose grey eyes stared at her. Stella's heart skipped erratically, relief and hope entwining in her thoughts. Without thinking, without considering the implications, the woman gasped, Arthur!

One of the men who restrained her slapped a