Small Town Vengeance: Sons of Iron MC Book 1

By Reghan Ross

For seven long years, Hawke Lucan bided his time in this town. Waiting to spring the MC's revenge on an unsuspecting family. But life had other plans for him and he became a bestselling political thriller writer. Meanwhile, the pest next door was growing up. When Hawke sees her riding her bike in the dark on a cold night, he knows she needs saving, but he doesn't realize how much until he discovers her step-family has been neglecting her.

Ella has plans of leaving town to seek out an elderly aunt in another state. Trouble is, now she's a woman and Hawke can no longer blank her out. She's young and he's almost twice her age, but she needs a protector. Will he be able to help her? Will he finally admit he feels something more for her? And when he confesses why he moved to this town will she understand?

Ella McCauley crushed on her hot biker neighbor for years. He even told her he was married at one point to get her to leave him alone.

When Hawke discovers the issues she's having with her family, the next thing she knows, he's moving her into his home. A hot biker and neighbor girl don't mix, but his badass attitude rocks her world and she will give anything if he'd ask her to stay indefinitely. But although Hawke has his MC friends looking into her family connections, her step-brother has others plans for her and they don't involve her staying in town.

Resisting the biker takes on new meaning when she desperately needs him to find and claim her.

This MC, older man story is book 1 of 4 and is a steamy contemporary. It can be read as a standalone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reghan Ross
• Release date: Jan 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005307912

Reghan Ross

Reghan Ross writes steamy contemporary romance. She had two full-length erotic romances published with the former Loose ID LLC online publishers and is now self-publishing her work.Her current work in progress is her MC series Sons of Iron. Visit the fictional town of Pine Peak in Books 1 thru 3, and meet Hawke, Jax, and Dane...total softies and not your typical hard ass bikers. Book 4 is in progress.Reghan loves faded jeans, boots, and sandals. She also enjoys hiking and tries to get to the beach every other year. After her sister passed at age 49, it hit home that life was short. Soon after, she had her 2 erotic titles published with Loose Id, and then had a tiny part in the movie Carol, in which you can see her sitting in the aisle of a cafe scene, but only from the check back...totally incognito. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and loves visiting with her daughters, grandchildren and siblings, and writes under the pen name of Reghan Ross.

Book preview

SMALL TOWN

VENGEANCE

Sons of Iron MC, book 1

Reghan Ross

SMALL TOWN VENGEANCE

Sons of Iron MC, book 1

This is a work of fiction. All names, places, incidents, and characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a living person, place or events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, in any manner, without the author’s express written consent and agreement.

Copyright 2021 Reghan Ross

Book design by Reghan Ross

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Author’s Bio

Enjoy this excerpt

Chapter One

Hawke Lucan fought against the yawn trying to contort his face. Exhausted at the pace he set himself, he knew he needed to sleep.

And it was time to conclude the business that brought him to this town seven years ago. Taking revenge on the Alston widow. Her husband killed Hawke’s father and brother and someone was going to pay, and since her husband was also dead, the Sons chose her for their vengeance. Every year on the anniversary of their deaths, Hawke drove to her house—just sitting, biding his time—knowing his closest friend, Jax, was doing all to jack up her finances. And when he saw the state of her house, the falling gutter, the rusted out, dented car, he knew why and even though he couldn’t do more to a widow and her children, who were innocent, her problems gave him a small measure of satisfaction. For a time. But as the years fell away—and his grief with it—he’d grown disgusted with the plan.

With his latest book written and edited, Hawke’s thoughts raced with all he’d missed. The thought of driving his hips between a woman’s legs heated his core. It’d been too long. Way too long.

Shaking off his lust and his thoughts of revenge, he headed to the liquor cabinet to celebrate his success.

Hawke had struggled with his eighth and final book in his political murder thriller series and he’d almost scratched the entire book a few times. His female editor choked on the phone talking about his crude sex scenes—which he’d never included before—but those crucial scenes pushed his protagonist to realize why he’d always sabotaged himself. His chief character also killed his nemesis in the end, resulting in his own demise. His beta reader, his sister Sasha, thought it was his best work yet.

Hawke cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. His stomach growled.

Dinner hadn’t crossed his mind last night. Breakfast today consisted of a pot of coffee and two pieces of stale toast. Glancing around his office, Hawke saw old plates and coffee cups stacked haphazardly. He hated housework, but only when he’d let everything go for days.

First things first. He set the whiskey bottle and shot glass on the desk. Logged into his email, attached his document, and fired off his edited book to his editor, with a brief note stating he would not be starting any new projects for a while. His editor would write back, saying Hawke was doing well, why take a break, like she did with his last book. But this time around? He meant every word.

He needed to regroup. Needed to tell Jaxon to conclude the revenge on the Alston family. Hawke needed this monkey off his back.

Damn it. He needed a break from writing as well. But every time he stopped plotting, he thought about her. The young girl next door. Too young for him in every way. Occasionally catching a glimpse of her in town started his hunger all over again.

Over the last few years, he’d occasionally ride his Harley past her house to try and catch a glimpse of her, only to torture himself with the letdown of not having seen her.

His memory rolled back to when he’d first glimpsed her sitting on her horse on a hillside, on his property, looking down at him. Her hip length hair a sheer curtain of silver-blonde. His gut clenched and he’d choked out a rapid denial. She’d been thirteen at the time. A fucking teen.

Ella McCauley. Such a sweet young thing. But seriousness and a fragile vulnerability lay like a cloak about her shoulders all the fucking time. It drew him to her, made him want to be her protector. And he asked himself, how crazy was that?

By sheer will and determination, Hawke stayed away.

Inhaling deep, he willed those memories away. It didn’t matter she was older now, he was too old for her. That was a fact.

Without his characters, plot points, and story to focus on, he thought about the coming weeks, and despite the Sons of Iron MC’s planned church meeting in a few months, emptiness gaped open in front of him.

Maybe he should drive north, to the club house, instead of having the guys come here. At least they would know what end was up. They made their own rules. Lived their own lives. Didn’t allow anyone to mess with them. Running with the bad boys once suited Hawke but after his father and brother’s deaths, he’d been a mental mess. His friends understood why he’d moved to this town. One day he’d started writing down a plan of attack and within hours, instead, he’d drafted a novel outline. In weeks, a book. His sister, the only person who didn’t realize why he’d moved here, read his work, and fired it off to a publisher. In two months, a three book deal sat in his email.

Shaking his head at the way life could flip on a dime, Hawke poured himself another shot of whiskey. He threw it back and gloried in the burn. There were only three times he ever drank. At the final two words to his books.

The End. Hallelujah. One shot to celebrate.

Thinking about his dad and brother.

And with friends.

With his book edits done, his gut churning with the image of the girl, and two shots in him, he recapped the bottle of Kentucky’s finest bourbon.

Getting plastered thinking about his lonely dick and his neighbor, Ella McCauley, at the same point in time was not going to solve anything.

It could never solve anything. When his business was concluded here in this town in a few months, he would sell up and move home.

First things first to becoming half alive again. A hot shower to release the kinks in his neck and then off to the grocery store. A man could starve when his fridge was bare.

Sustenance first.

An hour later, in town, he parked and pulled his coat collar around his ears as he strolled into the small store and started loading his cart. He selected his favorite foods and loaded his cart with the basics. Bread. Juice. Steak. Eggs. Damn. His stomach rumbled. He should have stopped at a fast food joint first. Crisp vegetables and fruits made his mouth water. Eyeing the sliced apple samples, he reached into the half open lid and grabbed three slices, popping those in his mouth all at once.

Soon, with his cart loaded, and free samples in his empty belly, he made his way to the front of the store, looking for an open lane. Hawke wasn’t a fan of self-checkout. This small grocery had everything he needed and he didn’t need to travel half an hour to get food. He also liked the live cashiers who rang his produce for him so he didn’t have to hunt for pictures, codes, and such.

Tonight, two cashiers were working. He pushed forward and got in line, and saw the cashier, Maggie Barnett, an older lady who the locals adored, chatting, and giggling with each person in her lane. The lane two aisles over moved faster. He was nothing if not decisive. Turning his cart, Hawke headed over and caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair. There were three people in front of him and he stood there and watched the cashier work. She scanned boxes and cans fast and with skill. He watched her hands and arms move and his gaze drifted to her face.

His breath stalled in his throat.

Ella McCauley. She’d already invaded his thoughts once today and once was enough.

Hawke thought back to when he caught her on his land. He didn’t have to think hard. Two years ago he’d hiked up the small mountain behind his house to the natural rock pool there. The water was cool even in summer. He figured a vigorous swim would burn off his built up sexual energy. Only Ella lay sprawled there. Completely stark naked. Sleeping on her belly in the moss, her wet hair a glorious tangle. All Hawke’s fantasies since featured that scene.

But there had been one big fucking problem. Ella’s age. About eighteen if he calculated right. A teen with a body women would envy and men would die trying to get a taste of.

She’d be about twenty now. Fucking twenty. Wonderful.

Blood flooded into his cock.

His gaze shifted before he could stop it and he found himself checking out her breasts. She was stacked and his body knew it. Her work smock hung off her body, but her cotton-sleeved forearms told him she was as slender as a newborn colt.

Standing behind his cart, Hawke reached under his coat and unobtrusively rearranged himself. If this young girl could get him hard he needed to add getting laid asap to his book-is-done list.

The customer in front of him loaded his items onto the moving belt and Hawke moved forward to do the same. The customer quickly paid and walked off with his bag. Hawke’s cart was stuffed full, so it took him several minutes to load his supplies onto the conveyor belt.

When he straightened, Ella picked that moment to raise her eyes, her How are you today, sir? coming out as a croak when she saw who it was. Her face paled and her cobalt blue eyes drifted over his beard covered face and wild hair.

Hey, Ella. What are you doing working here?

She looked down and started scanning his stuff. Working, she mumbled.

Obviously. But why are you working? Your father is a millionaire. You can’t be making more than minimum wage here.

She went still for a split second. Mr. Hawke, you need to scan your shopper’s card.

He rolled his eyes.

His brain wondering why she worked a low end job when her family was loaded and then focused on what she’d said. He cursed beneath his breath as he fumbled for his wallet and swiped his card. And it’s Mr. Lucan, Ella. Hawke is my first name. You know that.

Her cheeks flushed and she ignored him to keep scanning his goods, only about a third of the way through his stuff. I can’t call you Mr. Lucan. It doesn’t sound right.

It doesn’t?

No. You’ve always been Mr. Hawke to me.

His heart thumped. She’d given him a special name. The fact she placed Mister in front of it gave his dick an extra kick. Damn it. He was lusting after a young girl and she looked so fresh and untouched he couldn’t be certain of her age. Nineteen? Twenty? Shit, if she was any younger than that his soul was toast.

Hawke started bagging his items into the canvas bags he’d brought with him. When she was done ringing his items, she started to help him.

So, how have you been? he asked. Going to college?

Shit. Why didn’t he come right out and ask how old she was?

No. How’s your wife? Your son?

Fucking hell. Hawke forgot all about the lies he’d told Ella two years ago by the pond. His sister and her son often stayed with him when her husband was deployed and she’d been staying with him that day. He told Ella so by the pond. Yelled at her to get off his property, said his wife wouldn’t take kindly to another naked woman on their land. She’d scrambled behind her horse, dressing with haste, taking off like Satan himself was after her in her damp clothes, not sparing Hawke another glance.

A month later, he’d caught Ella on her horse on the hill behind his house. His sister was visiting again. Hot and bored, they’d been outside throwing water balloons at each other, her son, Jesse, giggling with joy. Hawke froze, seeing Ella on the hill watching, as if she envied them, and then she’d turned and ridden off. Hawke had not seen her near his property since.

Her slender fingers brushed his when they reached for the same item. She was the first to back off. Hawke sighed. She was like a nervous jumping goat around him.

Your total comes to three-forty-five twelve, she told him, not looking like she expected an answer to her question.

He reached for his wallet to pull out his credit card. He slipped his card into the slot and followed the prompts. The machine beeped for him to remove it. He pulled it back out and slipped it into his wallet. He pushed his coat back to slip it into his pocket and looked up to find Ella’s gaze on him.

There was no one in line behind him and strangely, he wanted to stay and talk to her. Ella reached to shut off her cashier’s light and placed a closed sign on her counter. He noticed she started fidgeting with little things. Straightening the stand holding the plastic bags. Throwing a tiny piece of trash away.

Ella—

Do you need anything else?

His eyes narrowed. There was a time you and I could talk. Comfortably. How’s Thunder Heart? I haven’t seen your horse for about as long as I have you.

Mentioning her horse spawned a bit of emotion in her. Only, he didn’t recognize what in the hell it was. Sadness? Anger? Regret? She tipped her head, as if she’d developed a strong backbone. He shook his head, unsure why his thoughts were so focused on her today.

Thunder Heart is gone, she said, her voice low and almost toneless.

She’s dead? How the hell did that happen? Hawke knew she’d loved the mare. They’d been inseparably.

She unlocked her register, pulled out her till, and started to walk away. She’s not dead. She’s been sold.

Ella headed to the office, probably to turn her till in. Her smock was long, hanging to mid-thigh, and her long pony tail swished against her back. He watched her slight figure until she turned the corner and was out of sight.

He started to push his cart and ran into a person. Excuse me—

Well, land sakes. If it isn’t Hawke Lucan. Old Maggie’s black eyes gleamed at him. Hawke glanced behind her and saw her lane closed as well. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was later than he’d thought. It was a couple minutes past nine. Their closing time. Maggie reached out to give him a hug. She laughed and patted his back. Hawke curved an arm around her fragile shoulders. I couldn’t help but notice you talking to Ella.

Yep. We’re neighbors, but I could hardly get a word out of her.

Her wrinkled eyes widened. Girl keeps to herself. I forgot you live on the other side of the McCauley property.

How long has she worked here? With his question, Hawke realized the elderly lady would be a fountain of information. Hell, she knew half the people in Pine Peak, only he needed to make it quick because Maggie stood next to him holding her till and she looked tired.

Ella? About two months. Poor girl. Real hard worker. Saves every dime she makes. Rides her bike to and from work. I don’t understand it. Her pa as rich as he is. I’ve lived here all my life and I remember her mother’s family owning that property. I’ve got to clock out. Take care, Hawke, and come into town more often.

As if Hawke lived hundreds of miles away! He lived on the edge of Pine Peak and shopped when he needed to, preferring the small mom and pop stores to the larger chain stores.

Hawke strode outside and