Taken: Roadburners MC, #1

By Brook Wilder

I took the daughter of the bastard who ruined my life.

She got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But once she got involved, there was no way I could let her go.

 

At first it was just out of necessity. 

But that was before I had a chance to take her in.

Before I could have a proper look.

 

And just like that, I was hooked.

 

I can't get her out of my mind.

 

Can't stop picturing her body pinned against mine.
Her breath hot on my ear as she screams my name.

 

There's no way anything or anyone can hold me back.
No way I can stop myself from having her.

 

From owning her.

From ruining her.

 

Again and again.
Night after night.

 

Until she forgets who she is.
Until I make her MINE.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scholae Palatina, Inc.
• Release date: May 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386870807

Book preview

Chapter 1

The wide open sky stretched for miles overhead. Dusk was just settling over the hundreds of acres that was part of the Gold Creek Ranch casting the bright greens and warm ambers of the grasslands to indigo as the shadows began to lengthen. The sun was falling westward over the heart of Texas, streaming clouds of bright fuchsia and fiery red in its wake.

Gold Creek was settled on miles and miles of open grassy fields that the cattle used to graze. Let out every morning and then rounded up again every evening and moved to a fresh paddock where they would be fenced in and kept safe for the night.

Elsie McLaurel was the daughter of Mark McLaurel, the biggest corporate ranch owner in all of west Texas, but at the moment she looked like anything but. Her rawhide boots and ripped jeans were covered in mud from tromping around the recently rained on ground and wrangling the cattle that had churned the once green grass into muck with their trampling hooves. 

A loose fitting old button down shirt hung half untucked and her blonde hair, usually worn long and wavy down her back, was pinned up underneath the wide brimmed hat that she wore to protect her fair skin from the harsh Texas sun. There was nothing about the petite young woman to suggest that she was the future heir to a multi-million dollar ranching business.

Elsie shook her head at the stray thought. The last thing she wanted was to take over her father’s corporation.  She knew Mark McLaurel had a reputation as a ruthless, heartless corporate rancher and she didn’t want any part of it. Soon enough I’ll be able to get out of here, Elsie mused to herself, out of this small town, away from daddy’s reputation. Then, I’ll be able to make my own life.

The sound of gentle mooing off to her right had her sliding down from the back of her chestnut gelding named Goat. Elsie patted the horse softly on the nose and he whickered in response. He’d been just a foal when Elsie had taken him in. His mama had died due to complications in childbirth and Elsie had felt an instant connection to the awkward baby horse. He didn’t have a mother, and neither had she, and Elsie had immediately taken the foal in, against her father’s wishes, and had nursed him back to health.

It had been a long fight to bring the tiny foal back from the brink of death, but he’d held on, and fought like hell. Stubborn as a goat, her father had said about him once, and the name had stuck. Goat.

That mooing sounded again and Elsie shook her head, casting a look over her shoulder at the heifer standing a few yards behind her.

Don’t worry, Bluebell, I didn’t forget about you. With a small chuckle, Elsie dug into the canvas saddle bag she had strung over the pommel and came away with a handful of apple slices. Elsie knew they were the cow’s favorite.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Elsie walked up to the massive heifer and held out her hand. The cow dwarfed Elsie’s own five foot one, but she’d spent her entire life around the animals. She knew they could be dangerous if she got in the way of a panicked stampede but she also saw the gentleness in them, the sweetness in the big, brown eyes that rolled towards the apple slices that were held just out of reach.

Oh, here ya go, Bluebell. Elsie said as she brought her hand closer and the cow happily munched at the treat, a slight twang in her voice proving that she’d grown up in the heart of Texas country, You greedy beast.

Elsie looked around as she absentmindedly petted the soft fuzz on the cow’s muzzle, looking around at the milling cattle nearby. None seemed disturbed by her presence, although occasionally some would roll their big, heavily lashed eyes in her direction in the hopes of some special treats. She recognized most of the animals and took a deep breath, staring up the sky that was just beginning to darken.

It’s just about time to get going, Bluebell. Elsie whispered softly, but she wasn’t talking about the cattle. She was talking about herself. About her future and what she would do next. A sudden thrill shot through her at the thought of the envelopes she’s snuck into the post just a week before. Her applications for Veterinary school.

As long as she could remember, Elsie had loved animals. Working with them, treating them. It had been her passion, the one thing in her life that she’d always known she wanted to do. But when she’d brought up going away to school to her father at the end of last summer, he’d told her in no uncertain terms that she would be staying on at the ranch to learn the ins and outs of the business. She knew he wanted her to take over the ranch one day.

But she just couldn’t. She’s heard the rumors. She’d heard what people said about how her daddy ran his business. With a hard fist and an even harder heart. She didn’t know everything that he did, but she knew enough to know that she didn’t agree with the way he ran things. Elsie also knew that she wasn’t cut out to be a business person. She loved being outside, being with the animals. The thought of being trapped behind a desk for the rest of her life made her sick to her stomach.

She was still idly stroking Bluebell’s cheek. Elsie remembered the night the cow had been born, how she’d been in the barn for hours helping bring the little calf into the world. She’d been much younger then and had still thought the biggest problem that she’d ever have to face was how to get out of wearing the dresses her daddy kept buying her. She’d lived in ripped jeans and hand me down buttoned shirts. Elsie looked down at herself with a smirk. Well, that at least that hadn’t changed.

Els! Elsie! A strong voice called out from over a slight ridge and the sound of her name brought her head up again. She grinned at the middle aged man that trotted nearer on the back of an impressive black and white stallion.

Hey, Lorenzo. Elsie greeted the familiar man with a wave. Lorenzo had been a farm hand at Gold Creek Ranch for years, even before her father had taken over and he was one of the only employees that had been kept on after the McLaurel Corporation had purchased the ranch from its old owner.

He was deeply tanned from his time out in the sun despite the cowboy hat tilted low over his dark, kind eyes and it made the wrinkles in his weathered face even more visible. The only other part of him that was exposed were the hands that masterfully handled his horse’s reigns. The rest of him was covered head to toe in denim and worn out leather boots.

I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Elsie. I was startin’ to get worried He said with a drawl of his own, his deep tenor as warm as the sun that was just now starting to dip below the tree line.

Sorry, Lorenzo. I just wanted to come out and check on Bluebell. You know she’s been getting those infections over the past few weeks. I wanted to make sure she was still doing alright. Elsie patted the cow’s neck and got a heartfelt moo in return.

Well, whatever you’ve been given her has worked like a charm. Just like magic. Lorenzo said as he took his hat off, brushing at the sweat that dotted his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt before replacing the hat where it was. Got a couple of other cattle you can take a look at when we get back to the barn. If we ever do get back that is. At this rate, we’ll be out here chasing them around all night.

Elsie ignored Lorenzo’s gruff tone, more than used to the straight forward talk from the man and didn’t take any offense by it. She knew he didn’t mean any more and any less than just what he said, even if he did have a tendency to sound like a grouch while he was saying it.

Alright, She sighed, giving the last of the apple slices to the greedy cow, chuckling as the fuzz around her mouth tickled her palm, That’s all I got, Blue. You’ll just have to wait until next time.

The heifer rolled her eyes in dissatisfaction, making Elsie laugh again and Lorenzo shake his head.

You know they’re not pets, right? He asked gruffly.

Oh, I know they’re not. Elsie said on a sigh.

You shouldn’t get so attached, Elsie.

It’s impossible not to. Elsie shook her head, giving Bluebell one last pet before walking back towards Goat, who had been happily rooting around a nearby tree for fallen fruit. She put her booted foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up into the leather saddle. She’d been riding since she was a little girl and now the motions as she kneed the horse forward felt like second nature.

Come on then. Lorenzo said, squinting over the rolling grass covered hills as the sun finally made its final bow before disappearing altogether. Let’s get the rest of the cattle and bring ‘em on in.

They worked in silence as they rounded up the last of the herd. It didn’t take the rest of the night, but it did take a solid hour to get the stragglers moving in the right direction. It wasn’t until they were nearly back to the ranch when Elsie noticed that some were missing.

Hey, Lorenzo. I didn’t see Lily, Trixie, or Pearl. Elsie said, drawing Lorenzo’s quizzical gaze in her direction.

Who?

The cows, Lorenzo. Elsie sighed, shaking her head as she scanned the herd once more. But no, she’d hadn’t been wrong. She didn’t see them anywhere.

"Who names a cow Pearl? Lorenzo muttered to himself but a moment later he spoke up, shrugging as he did so, The cattle will wander off sometimes, you know that. They always show up a few days later."

Should we go back out?

I wouldn’t worry about it, Elsie. Lorenzo was already sliding off the back of his horse, closing the gate behind the herd of cattle they had just rounded up. Besides, you know each cow has a tracker on them. If you’re still worried tomorrow we can go out looking for them, alright?

Alright. Elsie reluctantly agreed.

Now, you better get on home. I bet your daddy’s waiting for you. Lorenzo threw a wave over his shoulder, G’night, Elsie.

Goodnight, Lorenzo.

*

Lincoln Shaw, better known as ‘Hatchet’ to those who ran in the Roadburners crew, sat unmoving, drawing on the patience he’d learned from his years in the military. Oh, and is that where you picked up your cattle stealing skills as well? A snide inner voice asked but Hatchet ignored it, pushed it to the back of his mind along with the guilt, and the anger. The anger was the hardest to ignore. After years of dreaming up his revenge, he was finally here. Yeah, stealing a few of the man’s cows. That’s some real evil genius type shit right there.

Hatchet snorted softly to himself. It might not make a big dent in Mark McLaurel’s wallet but it was something. Not nearly enough, but something. He owed the man a debt. A big one. Hatchet had enlisted with the marines straight out of high school. He’d served two combat tours in the Middle East. And when he’d come back home, he’d been jobless for nearly a year before he eventually found a job as a cowboy on a ranch.

He’d finally found a little bit of peace, riding out in the open air, under the big open Texas sky. He had finally felt connected to something that wasn’t warfare and bloodshed. And then along came Mark McLaurel. He’d bullied the previous owner into selling Gold Creek Ranch, and had fired almost everyone that had relied on that place, including himself.

Hatchet knew men like McLaurel. Arrogant men who thought the whole world revolved around them, who didn’t blink twice at ruining someone’s life just for a little extra profit. All he cared about was the bottom line, and Lincoln ‘Hatchet’ Shaw had no place there as far as he was concerned.

He’d been out of a job, out of a place to live, out of any way to make a steady income just like that. It wasn’t until a few months later that he’d run into a former squad mate. John Dawes, although everyone called him Jackrabbit, had given him a hand. He’d been the one to introduce Hatchet to the Roadburners, a motorcycle crew that made its money in mostly illegal ways, though it was usually harmless. Mostly raiding other large corporate farms for livestock that they could turn around for a tidy profit. He’d taken to the criminal lifestyle immediately.

Which was how he found himself once more on Gold Creek’s rolling grassy hills, fighting the rage that threatened to boil over inside him at the thought of Mark McLaurel and everything the son of a bitch had cost him.

Just keep it together, Hatchet. You’re here for a job. That’s it. Don’t make it personal. He spoke the words to himself but he didn’t believe it. The man screwed you over. He didn’t give a shit about ruining your life. Of course it’s fucking personal.

Hatchet shook his head, trying once more to dispel the voice, trying only to focus on what was happening in front of him as he eyed the herd of cattle from a distance. There were three of the animals that were lagging behind. Easy pickings. He sat crouched behind a tree that would keep him hidden if that ranch hand happened to look this way.

He watched as the slight man slid off the brown horse, reassessing as he compared the man’s size to the horse. Maybe he was a boy, just starting out. It doesn’t matter how old he is, it just matters that he doesn’t see you. He minds his own business and this will all end just fine. Hatchet sank deeper into the shadows as the boy walked up to one of the cows, holding out his hand as the big animal mooed softly.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could just make out the three cows he had his sights on. They were still far behind the rest of the herd, taking their time at a particularly tasty patch of grasslands out of view of the ranch hands. Hatchet looked from the cattle, to the young man with his dirty jeans and straw hat, and back again, wondering if it was time to make his move. Evening was falling, lengthening the shadows around him and it was almost dark enough to move without drawing attention to himself.

But just as he was getting ready another farm hand rode near and this one he could see his face. It was a face Hatchet would recognize anywhere. Lorenzo Lopez. He’d been manager of the Gold Creek Ranch long before he’d worked there, and he was one of the only employees kept on after McLaurel took over. And Lorenzo would sure as hell recognize Hatchet. It was too risky to make a move yet. He’d just have to pull on a little more of his fabled patience, and wait. Then, he would round the stray cattle up with the heavy ropes he had knotted and waiting beside him, remove the gps trackers he knew McLaurel used on his stock, and within moments be well on his way with several thousand dollar’s worth of livestock.

Chapter 2

Elsie’s stomach tightened with dread as she turned her horse around and headed over the small rise. As she reached its peak the large ranch house that she shared with her dad and their own personal barn came into view. Elsie trotted Goat over to the barn, taking her time as she removed the saddle and brushed him down before making sure he had plenty of food.

Goodnight, Goat. Elsie whispered, petting the horses soft nose as he whickered softly. She was stalling, she knew that. The last thing she wanted to do was go into the house she shared with her dad. Because she knew Lorenzo was probably right. He probably was waiting for her. And the last thing she wanted to do was get into another argument with him about her future.

It’s my future, damn it, she thought angrily to herself as she kicked at a stray pile of straw, shouldn’t I be the one who gets to decide it? But she knew her father didn’t see it that way. She’d already spent hour after hour trying to convince him that Veterinary School was what she truly wanted, but he just wouldn’t listen.

Finally, after stalling for as long as she could, Elsie threw her shoulders back and turned with a sigh, walking towards the house as if she was marching off to war. In a way, she was. Mark McLaurel had an iron will, and was stubborn as hell. For all their differences, Elsie could be just as stubborn if she needed to be.

She stopped for a moment as she reached the white washed porch steps that lead up to the large wood slat home. Her father had put hundreds of thousands of dollars into renovating the old farmhouse when he’d first bought the ranch and she and her father had lived there ever since, although the six bedroom home felt too large for just the two of them sometimes. And sometimes, it seemed far too small.

As frustrated as she was,