Her Broken Biker

By K. R. Max

Star - I’m a good girl. All my life I’ve done as I’m told. Except that one time, and look what happened. I’ve never broken the rules since, until now. Shortly after an insanely hot brief encounter with a stranger, I find him again on the highway. Only this time, there’s a hole in his shoulder and he’s covered in blood. His blood. His only request before he passes out: no hospitals. I know what I should do, but for the first time in a long time, I break the rules.

Trap - I know my name, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting shot. I don’t remember how I ended up in someone’s guesthouse with the hottest, sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t even know who to call to come get me, or if there’s anyone who’d care. Right now, though, I’m not even sure I want to know any of those things. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve this girl, and I’m going to take all the time I have to really get to know her.

But the past refuses to stay hidden. My memories, and my enemies, are just waiting in the shadows, and when they rise again, I’m gonna lose everything. They’re gonna drag me down to Hell, and worst of all, they’ll drag my sweet Star down right along with me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SkyTint
• Release date: Feb 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005445492

Book preview

HER BROKEN BIKER

Devil Dogs MC #2

by

K. R. Max

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

http://krmaxromance.com

Cover design by KR Max.

Author's Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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HER BROKEN BIKER

STAR

I STARE through the windshield, peering through the rain lashing the glass as the asphalt rolls away under my car’s wheels. I should be so happy right now, in spite of the weather. I should be rocking out to the radio, singing along to one of my favorite songs, as I head home in triumph. I just graduated top of my class, with an MBA and a grade point average which has seen me fending off job offers for months. I don’t need job offers, of course. There’s a desk waiting for me at Holland Inc, the family corporation. Mother and Father have made it very clear they expect me to use that desk.

I sigh.

I don’t want that desk. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to work at the family firm. I don’t want any of it.

I know I’m being incredibly spoilt and ungrateful. I’m lucky to have a job waiting for me. A lot of my classmates don’t. Nor do they all have wealthy families who paid for their tuition upfront, eliminating the worry of lifelong student debt.

"I’m really, really lucky," I tell myself. Maybe if I say it out loud, I’ll actually believe it.

Or not.

The truth is, I don’t want to work for a big corporation. There’s a reason I specialized in small business startups and wrote an entire thesis on bootstrapping. Not that my parents know that.

They’d kill me.

Not literally.

I think.

The song ends and I immediately kick myself for wasting a great song feeling sorry for myself. The next one isn’t as high on my favorites list, but I rock out to it anyway. I need to find the positives here. After all, I bought myself another month by road tripping home instead of taking a flight and visiting friends on the way. I told my parents it was because I was working on some ideas for improvements to the firm.

They were all over that. Totally encouraging, in that way parents can only be when they have no intention of implementing any of your suggestions.

What can I say? I know my parents.

My stomach snarls and I roll my eyes. Seems like I’m hungry all the time lately, but I’m well aware I’m just eating my feelings. Mother will be all over the extra pounds I’ve gained. Might as well enjoy my freedom while it lasts.

Ahead I spot the bright lights and cheerful facade of a small diner, just visible through the rain, and pull into the parking lot, parking as close to the door as possible. Flipping my hood over my head, I manage to get inside without getting completely soaked, and scan the booths to find a free one.

Instead of focusing on where to sit, though, I find my eyes clashing with a dark, intense gaze on the other side of the room. I suck in a breath and blink. Deep, dark eyes that suck me in and send tingling threads of…something trickling through me, curling deep in my belly and dampening my panties.

I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve never felt like this, and certainly never just from looking at a guy. I need to break this connection, this strange, intense connection that has liquid need sliding in my belly, but I can’t look away. Not until the corner of his mouth lifts and he nods at me, like we know each other.

I swallow and drag my gaze from his, feeling my face flame with embarrassment. I need to find somewhere to sit, but instead I find myself checking him out. And man, is there a lot to check out. He’s sitting down, lounging in a booth, but that doesn’t hide his massive shoulders, or the tattoos peeking out the neckline of his t-shirt. A t-shirt which strains to cover his pecs, beautifully framed by a battered black leather jacket. I can’t see any lower, the rest of him hidden by the table, and then I realize I’m staring in the general direction of his crotch.

Like a total idiot, instead of looking away, I look at his face, hoping like hell he hasn’t noticed.

Ha.

Of course he fucking noticed. He raises an eyebrow at me and I feel my face flame hotter in horror and humiliation. I clench my teeth and force myself to look away. There’s a free booth on the other side of the room, but as I start to move in that direction, a couple sits down at it. They must have walked right be my while I was ogling Buff, Dark and Dangerous.

The place is a lot busier than I envisaged a roadside diner would be at this time of day. The only almost free spot is a booth with a teenager girl working on what looks like homework. Right next to Mr. Hottie’s booth.

Of course it is.

For a moment I consider turning around and walking right out again, but then my stomach howls, to the point where the two nearest tables all turn and look at me.

Yeah, okay. I came in here for a reason. I really need to eat. I head towards the booth. I’ll just… not look at the guy who’ll be sitting right behind me.

I can do this.

Is this seat taken? I ask the girl, and she looks up, resignation crossing her features.

Oh, sure. Let me clear up my stuff.

Oh, no, it’s fine. I don’t take up that much room, I tell her, with a smile. I’m Star.

Ella, she says, shaking my hand, then going back to her assignment.

You might be wondering why my parents, scions of two of the wealthiest families in the country, leaders of a Fortune 500 corporation, called their daughter Star.

Well, they didn’t. They actually called me Stella. I hate it. My friend Flick laughed the first time we met, when I introduced myself after a particularly grueling seminar. They got it almost right, she told me. You are stellar. A total star. They were just one letter out.

The name stuck. Which reminds me, I’m going to have to unstick it before I get home. My parents will have a collective heart attack if they hear my hippy-ish nickname.

My food arrives and I dig in. It’s delicious and I’m almost done when Ella puts her pen down.

How can I fit more tables in here?

I look around the space. If you move the condiments station to that corner, you could probably reconfigure the floor to fit another… three tables? Would that be enough?

I look back at her to find her staring