Biker's Librarian: Lords of Mayhem, #1

By Shyla Colt

Recovered from an abusive relationship, Juliette Moore is ready to live life on her own terms. Successful, intelligent, and slightly timid, she makes a pact with her best friends to seize the day. She gets more than she bargained in the tall, dark, and dangerous biker Shooter.

Drawn to her purity and charm, Shooter, finds himself smitten before he knows what's happening. With his claim firmly placed, he's ready to go to war when she's threatened by a madman from her past. Together they weather life's storms and find common ground as they merge their two very different worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspired Ink
• Release date: Apr 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201106324

Shyla Colt

Shyla Colt grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, but has lived a variety of different places thanks to her wanderlust, interesting careers, and marriage to a United States Marine. She's always loved books and wrote her very first novel at the age of fifteen. She keeps a copy of her first submission letter on her desk for inspiration.  After a lifetime of traveling, she settled down and knew her time had come to write. Diving into her new career like she does everything else, with enthusiasm, research and a lot of prayers, she had her first book published in June of 2011. As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there's never a dull moment in her household.  She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company. A self-professed rebel with a pen. Her goal is to diversify romance as she continues to genre hop, and offer up strong female characters. You can interact with Shyla Colt online via her website www.shylacolt.com on,  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorshyla.colt and  Twitter: @shylacolt

Book preview

Positions

President— Leader of the Chapter

Vice President— Second in charge. Fills in when President isn’t around.

Sergeant at Arms— Basically the club’s policeman. He enforces club policy and procedures in meetings.

Enforcers— There to help the Sergeant at Arms do his job. They often stand guard at meetings.

Secretary— Responsible for the club’s paperwork, including club records.

Treasurer— The chapter’s money man. He collects club fees, pays bills, etc.

The Wise One— He often looks after the club’s spiritual needs. He’s often referred to as the Chaplin.

Road Captain— He’s usually in charge of the logistics of the club. IE: Planning routes, fuel stops, etc.

Asst. Road Captain— Assists the Road Captain.

Patch Members (Riders)— Members who’ve earned the right to wear the club’s color after paying their dues as a Prospect. They’re also known as Patches or members.

Nomad— A club member who doesn’t belong to any particular chapter.

Prospect— Man in training to become a member of a Motorcycle club after a probationary period

Chapter One

Juliette

Juliette swirled the red Merlot featured on the menu in her glass and watched the legs trail their way downward. It was a relaxing Friday night after work with her best friends at their favorite place to unwind. It was an event they looked forward to every week.

Removing her feet from the stifling, yet stylish three-inch, snakeskin pumps, she flexed her toes. The table in the back corner against the wall in the local wine bar had unofficially become the ladies.

Pride swelled in her chest as she took in the women around her. Hilary, Evonne, Joey, and she had come a long way. Best friends since the first grade, they’d weathered some rocky times together. Tall, thick, and on the darker spectrum of brown, they’d all taken many lumps in high school and beyond. Kids were vicious and prone to lash out at those who intimidated them. Blessed with an abundance of intelligence in addition to their height, they’d pretty much had orange targets glued to their backs. The discovery that life post-graduation could be more of the same had been painful.

At twenty-five, they were all past the mean girl drama. Evonne was a successful accountant, setting her own hours via freelance. Joey owned and operated a graphic design company, and Hilary, with her wild imagination, penned romantic suspense thrillers. It was wonderful, what most people dreamed of, right?

A huff of air escaped her lips. Tonight the routine felt rather dull.

Girls, I think we’ve bored the librarian, Hilary said as the others chuckled. The murals on the distressed beige walls that represented the wine fields in Tuscany and the brown barrels underneath the bar seemed to mock her.

Haha, Hil. I love Corked. I just think we should mix things up tonight. Juliette shrugged.

Mrs. Plan Every Detail to the Last Nanosecond wants to mix things up? Evonne arched a pencil thin eyebrow.

Is that so surprising? Juliette asked.

Yes, their voices chimed together in harmony.

Come on, Juliette. You’re so predictable we can practically tell time by you, Joey said.

Juliette glanced away, unable to argue with her words. She’d never been one to make waves or shake things up.

See, that’s the problem. Juliette set her wine glass on the table and leaned forward. We’re stuck in a rut. Work, work, and more work. When’s the last time we went out and blew off steam?

Joey lifted her glass. Isn’t that what we’re doing now?

I don’t know. Juliette wrinkled her nose and frowned, trying to capture the elusive words to fully describe her rapidly shifting emotions. We’re too young to behave so…

Matronly? Joey asked, voice wry.

Yes! Juliette pointed across the table at her. We did everything we were supposed to do earlier than most, graduated, and started our careers. Now that we’ve gained a little bit of success and recognition, maybe we should take some time to have fun?

An answering flicker of understanding rose in the eyes around her that ranged from brown to hazel.

We hear what you’re saying, Jul. I think we’re all just wondering what you want to do about it. Evonne raised her hands as she shrugged.

Start a club! The excitement in Hilary’s voice proved to be contagious.

Butterflies formed in Juliette’s belly and she leaned in closer to hear her friend’s thoughts. Always the wild child, Hil kept them from being a total snooze-fest. The bending of rules usually occurred at her insistence.

A club, Hil? I think we belong to enough of those. Book club, Alumni club, and don’t forget the fascinating Tupperware club we were roped into? Evonne rolled her eyes.

Not one that involves just the four of us. She paused, meeting their curious gazes one by one. A reformed shy girl club!

Excitement lifted Juliette out of the doldrums like a jet-propelled rocket pack as Hil continued.

Let’s remind ourselves how far we’ve come. The girls who used to practically wet their pants at the thought of speaking in front of the class have come into their own, and now it’s time to celebrate. Hil’s ringlets of black hair all but vibrated with energy. Her tresses always responded to her emotions. Perfectly spiraled when happy, frizzy when agitated or upset, it acted like a mood ring.

Reformed shy girl… I like the sound of that. Juliette took a sip of her wine.

What are the rules? Evonne asked.

Oh, you’re bringing Spock around. We might be on to something. Joey grinned.

Nicknamed Spock for her mad skills with numbers, Evonne always proved to be the most cautious and took the longest to persuade. It hadn’t stunned anyone when she’d become an accountant.

Be fearless, Juliette offered.

Within reason, Evonne added, pointing her index finger.

Please ourselves for once, Joey whispered. A pained expression dulled the glee visible in her eyes. She’d spent way too many years taking care of someone else. If anyone deserved freedom, Joey did.

Take risks and get ‘some.’ Hil wagged her eyebrows as they all choked.

Hey, who said I wasn’t getting any? Joey protested.

Please, girl. Hil rolled her eyes. We’ve all hit a dry patch. Too much work and no play has made us all very dull women. Don’t act like you’ve been burning up the sheets and keeping it a secret. She twisted her lips and tapped them with her finger. Or have you?

Joey scowled.

How do we start? Juliette asked, killing the snit fit before it started. Ready to get the ball rolling, she all but bounced in her seat. Today during the shift change with her coworker Emily, the truth rocked her like an unexpected hurricane. Outside of work, many parts of her life left much to be desired. Sex-starved, lonely, and overworked, she occasionally felt eighty.

Well fearless leader, I’ll leave that up to you. Hil winked.

Let’s go out tonight.

Murmurs of agreement circled the table.

Where to? Joey shrugged, lifting her hands.

What’s the name of that new club? Pure? Juliette wrinkled her brow, trying to recall the radio broadcasting she’d heard on the drive here.

Yes, and women get in free until ten o’clock! Good call. Joey’s eyes widened. Her animated expression fueled the enthusiasm building at the table.

It’s five now. We have just enough time to get to the mall, make-up counter, and home to transform before we hit Pure. Evonne used her finger to check off each task on an imaginary clipboard.

Why the shopping trip? Joey asked.

Because what we have in our closets isn’t going to be very reformed shy girl, with the exception of Hil here, who has whips, handcuffs, and a bunch of other things I don’t want to think too hard about. Evonne nodded toward their openmouthed friend.

Hey! I told you that’s for research! Hil cried.

Mhmm. Evonne gave her a side-eyed glance, and they all burst into laughter.

Let’s settle our bills, and let the adventure begin! Juliette waved at the waiter. Blood roared in her ears, and her heartbeat increased. For the first time in too long for her to remember, she felt fully alive.

Five hours later she was rethinking her impromptu proposal. Shifting her weight on strappy heeled sandals, she batted away the urge to yank down the black miniskirt. The low-backed, crimson tank top hugged her breasts, presenting them for the world to see in a sexy, nerve-racking display.

At the store, she’d felt powerful, badass, and desirable. In line among a slew of others, she felt phony. As if they could see through the bravado to the insecure, misunderstood young girl lurking inside her soul, a shadow that needed to be banished by the light.

Don’t chicken out on us now, fire starter. This is your doing, Hil whispered.

Glancing up at her friend’s all-knowing, almond-shaped brown eyes, Juliette knew she’d been busted. I feel so out of place.

That’s all in here. Hil tapped her temple. Outside you are slamming, confident, and ready to be worshipped.

Hil, where do you come up with this stuff? Snickering, she was unable to resist the incredible charisma Hil had in spades.

"Hello— writer." Hil issued an exaggerated eye roll and snorted.

Why aren’t you the President again? Juliette tilted her head to the side.

Because it was your idea. I sort of helped it along. Come on, Jul. We all know you’re the planner. Leave it to me, and we’d end up in a rundown bar in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire. Murphy’s Law follows me around, pouncing when I least expect. I think that’s why I write such good romantic suspense. I live it daily…well minus the romance. She shrugged.

For anyone else that would be an embellishment, but Jul had seen the insanity that existed in Hilary’s life. Flat tires on the way to graduation, punch spilled on her white prom dress, cracked heels the day of a big interview. Pick an outrageous series of events, and it’d probably happened to Hil.

Okay, I’ll give you that. Juliette took a deep breath and released it through her mouth. I’m behaving like a teenager. Still, the fear of ridicule and rejection were genuine. Funny how you thought you were over something until it came rushing back full force.

Evonne and Joey turned and formed a semi-circle around Juliette.

What’s going on, Jul? Joey asked.

My nerves are flaring up. Juliette nibbled the inside of her mouth and willed her anxiety away. Tightness developed in her chest, and she breathed deep. Not now. She hadn’t had a panic attack in so long.

It’s not just you. Evonne exhaled. Social activities, large groups of people, and I don’t get along too well.

Hence why we call you Spock. You’re the only brown Vulcan I’ve ever met. Joey nudged Evonne’s shoulder with her own.

Hey, if that means I’m the child of Zoey Saldana and Zachary Quinto, I’ll take it. Evonne grinned, and they all burst into laughter. The familiar razzing eased Juliette’s anxiety.

Have I told you girls how much I love you today? Juliette laughed, brushing her shoulder-length locks out of her face and tucking them behind her right ear.

Yes, but we always love to hear it. Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Hil rolled her R’s.

The line moved ahead of them, and they followed like a herd of cattle. A few more minutes and they were inside the club, sealing Juliette’s fate. Guess I’m past the point of return.

Unlike most places they’d gone to, Pure had gone with a black and white theme. Black walls were offset by pieces of white furniture and smoky glass-topped tables. They walked down the hallway. Pure was double the size of most clubs with three different levels catering to different tastes. The corridor opened to a sleek black archway that led to a large seating area surrounding a white dance floor. Pop music came over the speakers, loosening the stiffness in her muscles. She swayed to the familiar rhythm, mouthing the words.

Let’s hit the bar first, Hil said.

Nodding, they followed her as she weaved a path through the crowded room. They squeezed into the middle section and waited patiently for one of the busy bar backs to make their way toward them. Juliette studied the people around her to pass the time. Her gaze reached the end of the bar and stopped.

The broad-shouldered, tan Roman god looked up. Their gazes clashed. Chocolate brown met a whiskey brown she could easily drown in. Bottomless pits that beckoned her to solve the owner’s mysteries. The dark brown hair slicked back off his face highlighted a broad forehead, and the faintest trace of hair adorned his chin and his luscious upper lip.

Her sex quivered and grew moist. Hardened nipples strained against the silk of her tank top. The apex of her thighs heated. The air between them sizzled as he lowered his lids to half mast, and his strong jaw flexed. A long, pink tongue snaked out to moisten his lips. Oh God, was the attraction mutual?

His thick eyebrows drew together. A puzzled expression marred his facial perfection. He’s probably wondering why my crazy ass is staring at him. She wanted to look away but found it difficult.

Her breaths shortened, and her chest moved up and down rapidly. The muscles in her stomach clenched. The music faded and tunnel vision set in.

Jul, what do you want to drink? Joey’s voice shattered the connection.

She turned, grateful for the reprieve from the lasers penetrating deep, making her forget herself. The last time this had happened had proven to be a poor choice. Those razor-sharp beams peeled back her skin and freed the stifled woman she’d slapped imaginary swaths of duct tape on and shoved deep in the closet of her mind.

Oh, rum and cola please, Juliette told the striking blond bartender with bright blue eyes and a toothpaste ad smile. After the rugged, handsome face of the stranger, he paled in comparison.

You got it, sweetheart. The cocky tone made her want to gag.

Not even if I was hammered, Ken.

Were you making goo-goo eyes at the biker? That’s bold…even for a reformed shy girl. Joey’s eyes were full of admiration Juliette didn’t understand.

Biker? What are you talking about? She shook her head.

Check him out, Jul. He’s wearing a cut. Joey nodded toward the end of the bar.

Cut? Clueless, she starred at Joey, who rolled her eyes.

"A leather vest which identifies him as a member of a certain motorcycle club. Girl, you need to watch more prime time television. Sons of Anarchy is the shit." The happiness on Joey’s round face garnered a giggle.

Keep talking so it won’t be obvious I’m scoping him out, Juliette whispered. Nodding in mock agreement, Juliette leaned back slightly and used her peripheral vision to take in all the things she’d missed during their stare down.

Long, powerful legs were encased in black leather pants, and muscular arms were bare up to his deltoid in what looked like a black T-shirt and the leather vest. Ink swirled up his arms.

She narrowed her eyes. Damn! I’m too far away to discern details. Forcing her gaze away, she accepted the tumbler from Ken.

It was best to forget the sexy biker. They might as well be from different worlds. Men like him held no interest in women like her, even if she had pretty packaging on tonight.

Chapter Two

Shooter

"Hey, Shooter, you ready to leave?"

Moose’s gruff voice stole his attention from the luscious, brown-skinned woman whose gaze sent him up in flames. Pure wasn’t their typical scene. Tonight they’d been doing the Prez, Tiny, a favor by trailing his daughter.

Katie was a perky blonde with a banging body, though Shooter never let the Prez know he thought that. Coddled by her Father and trashed by her ex-Old Lady of a mother, Tricia, the poor girl, was a wreck. With her twenty-first birthday, she’d hit the party scene at a dead run. Drinking like the alcohol would be taken off the shelf any day and getting involved with some less than reputable characters. Considering the Lords of Mayhem were no angels, the statement said a lot.

Katie cut out? Shooter leaned against the bar.

Yeah, she left with Smokey’s Old Lady, said they were going back to her place.

Shooter smirked. The six-foot-three-inch man, built like a linebacker, looked uptight as hell. He’d seen the man stare down the barrel of a .45 without batting an eye. Now a club was about to do him in?

Feeling uncomfortable, Moose? He grinned.

Fuck, yeah. It’s not our kind of place, eh?

The Canadian expression curved Shooter’s lips upward. Even after all these years, Moose’s accent still amused Shooter. Named Moose for the animal he’d hit with his parents’ car; the import was loyal, steady under pressure, and funny as hell. He had one-liners that had put half the comics Shooter had seen on television to shame. Of course, most of them were filthy as fuck.

True enough. But I’d like to hang around a while.

Moose narrowed his blue eyes and stroked his full beard. You sniffing out some pussy?

You really care?

Eh, I just want to know if she’s got a friend. Moose shrugged.

The word pussy seemed too harsh for the woman he’d seen. She was definitely a vagina or lady parts type. Exactly why I don’t need to be looking twice. Despite her revealing outfit, he could tell she wasn’t the kind you just fucked. Normally that meant he moved on to the next. He glanced away but found his attention drawn back to her. There was a hidden depth in her. An invisible mark that all people who’d been through some deep shit wore. The mystery she presented intrigued him.

She’s got a few. But none of them look the slam-bam type.

Shit, Shooter. You scouting out Old Lady material? Moose’s eyes grew the size of golf balls.

I’m not looking. Way I hear it, though, they tend to catch you unaware.

All the more reason for me to get the fuck out of here. You gonna be okay alone?

The anxious look on the large man’s face made Shooter chuckle. Aren’t I always?

Yeah, good point. See you later, man. I’m going to have fun with some obligation-free Sweetbutt.

You enjoy that, and wrap it up.

Don’t have to tell me. I’m not trying to be a father or have some crazy ass thinking I’m her path to ladder climbing. Moose shuddered. Happy hunting, hope you capture your prey. Moose gave a mock salute and disappeared into the crowd.

Tossing back the rest of his whiskey sour, Shooter set the tumbler on the bar and