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Derek_A Gritty Bad Boy MC Romance
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Derek
Lost Breed MC Series
Ali Parker
BrixBaxter Publishing
Contents
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Description
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
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Copyright
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Description
I’ve never been the sort of man who needed a woman. I’ve never needed anyone, in fact.
The Lost Breed MC gives me all that I could ever ask for.
They’re family, and now they’re in danger.
The Hand is inching closer and closer to our inner circle, and he’s never been more of a threat than he is right now.
Jason, Ryder’s nephew, conveniently reappears while The Hand is making power moves. I’m not blind to coincidence.
Something is amiss.
Not only do I have my hands full dealing with a killer, but there’s a beautiful brown-haired girl drawing circles around my heart and making things more complicated.
Love has never been on my radar, but this woman won’t give up.
She’s in as much danger as I am, if not more.
I might not be enough to stand between her and the man who has been making the last year of my life a living hell, but I’m damn sure going to try.
She’s worth it. My MC is worth it.
Together, they’re all I have left in the world.
Introduction
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Chapter 1
Derek
When I opened my eyes the morning after the engagement party for Sabian and Angela, my ceiling looked like it was alive. It spun and danced in a sickening way that forced me to close my eyes again to fight off the dizziness. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I groaned at my own self-destructive ways.
Perhaps I’d celebrated a little too hard. Perhaps I’d been pounding back the beers to forget that there was one Lost Breed member missing from around the fire.
With a disgruntled sigh, I dragged my hand over my face and my beard and forced my eyes open again. I stared stubbornly at the ceiling until it ceased swimming and then swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. More spinning greeted me, and I waited yet again until it was safe to march into the bathroom to shower.
The hot water and steam cleared some of the fogginess in my head. As I massaged shampoo into my scalp, my stomach grumbled. A little bit of food would cure this hangover, surely, and I suspected there was a certain someone frying up bacon in Ryder’s kitchen right about now.
Dani was a godsend for me and always had been. There was always a spot open for me at her and Ryder’s table, and this morning was feeling like it was that kind of morning. A bacon and friends kind of morning.
I toweled off, brushed my teeth, slapped on some deodorant and cologne, and headed out through the door to my garage where my bike was parked. The chrome pipes and forks winked at me when I clicked the door opener and the fluorescent light stuttered on. I tugged my helmet on over my still wet hair, stepped over the leather seat, and turned the bike on. The engine roared, and I backed her out of the garage and turned her around in the driveway.
My neighbors hated me.
I revved her until I was satisfied, closed the garage door behind me, and peeled out of the driveway and down my street like the devil himself was riding my smoke.
It was the beginning of September in New York City, which meant a few things: the best riding weather was around the corner, I’d be able to wear my leather jacket in the day again, and my beard wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable. It also meant the women of the city would be covering up their bare legs and arms and wouldn’t be wearing dresses anymore. They’d trade them in for full-length pants and high-neck sweaters.
It was a damn shame.
Knowing the summer was coming to an end, I took a route to Ryder’s that I knew would provide me with the best view of tanned legs and low-cut dresses. I cut through a café and boutique district, and the roar of my engine drew the attention of most people wandering up and down the sidewalks—including a trio of beautiful young women sipping cold coffees at an outdoor patio table.
I parked my bike on the curb, pulled my helmet off, and raked my fingers through my hair. I knew they were watching as I swung my leg over the seat and hooked my helmet on the handlebars. I strode over to them and took in their pretty pink lips, painted toes, and summer tans. They were the perfect ménage trio, a redhead, a blonde, and a brunette. And they were all smiling coyly at me.
“Ladies,” I said with a curt nod as I stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of them.
They giggled as I’d expected them to and offered me flirty hellos in return.
I wasn’t a shy man by any standards, and I wasn’t blind to the fact that the female species found me attractive. I also wasn’t enough of a fool to think “attractive” was the right word to describe myself. I dropped into the open seat at their table and looked at each one of them in the eye. “I couldn’t just ride by such sexy ladies without stopping to … investigate.”
More giggles.
The redhead pursed her full lips around her straw and sucked back on it. The way her cheeks puckered in had my mind creating fantasies of her in my bed sucking my cock rather than that tiny straw. Her skin was decorated with freckles, and she had the nicest pair of tits I’d seen on a woman in a long time. Her low-cut green dress complimented her shape.
The blonde was a real treat. She was wearing a pink dress, and her hair was pushed back off her forehead by her thick-framed sunglasses. Her legs were crossed, and she was bouncing one foot, perhaps a little nervously, up and down. I caught her eyes roaming from the toe of my boot to my eyes, and she blushed.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?”
She shrugged a tanned shoulder and didn’t say anything. But her eyes did. Her eyes said a lot of things, most prominently yes.
The brunette had a bright yellow sundress on. She seemed the most reserved, and her outfit bore the least amount of skin, which promised me a simple truth that I’d learned in all my time with women—she would be the real wild one in bed.
I pulled a receipt for brake pads out of my jeans pocket and asked if any of them had a pen. The redhead pulled a bright pink one out of her bag. It had a jewel at the end, but I didn’t give a damn. I scrawled my number on the back of the receipt and slid it into the middle of the table before getting back to my feet. I handed her the pen back and winked. “If the three of you are looking for something to do tonight, it would be my pleasure to take care of you. But it’s an all or nothing ki
nd of situation. You catch my drift?”
All three of them nodded. Wonderful.
I didn’t say anything else as I turned away from them and got back on my bike. The engine roared to life again, and I shot them a devious look before putting my helmet on and tearing away from the curb to head to Johnny Moretti’s house for bacon.
And to talk. There was a lot of shit we needed to deal with. I couldn’t let it sit like an elephant in the room any longer. Hyde was dead. The Devil's Hand was going to be out of prison soon. And we didn’t have a course of action.
Talk now. Fuck later.
When I got off my bike in Ryder’s driveway, the smell of bacon assaulted my nose. Dani was as predictable as the rising sun with her cooking habits.
I marched up to the front door, knocked twice, and let myself in. Dani yelled hello from the kitchen and then giggled after a predominant slapping sound echoed down the hall. Ryder had no doubt gave her ass a firm slap.
He emerged in the doorway to the kitchen as I closed the front door behind me. His white button-up was open, and he wore loose, low riding jeans.
“What the hell, Ryder,” I grunted. “Cover up, will you? This is too much for my eyes on an empty stomach.”
Ryder rubbed his abs teasingly and flashed me a grin. “You like it, you big bastard.”
“Is that Derek?” Dani called from the kitchen.
“Who else has the nerve to disturb us on a Tuesday morning?” Ryder asked, still smirking as I brushed by him and went into the kitchen.
Dani was pouring pancake batter on a flat pan. She was dressed in loose sweats and a tight tank top. She’d pulled her hair up in a messy knot on top of her head and held it in place with a kerchief. She looked fine as hell—a thought I would forever keep locked in the deep recesses of my mind and never say aloud for fear of Ryder finding out.
Dani shot me a warm smile and turned her back on the pan. “I’d say I’m surprised to see you, but this has become a routine.”
I dropped lazily into one of their kitchen chairs and draped my arm over the back. “I just can’t stay away from your cooking, Dani.”
She clicked her tongue. “So long as it’s just you. I’m not keen on this becoming a thing and before I know it, I’m cooking for the lot of you. I can’t imagine how many pancakes that would be.”
“Hundreds,” Ryder said.
“At least,” I agreed.
Dani returned to her cooking, and Ryder asked if I wanted coffee. I shook my head and asked for water instead, which he placed in front of me before taking up the seat across from me. As he stretched his hands over his head and cracked his back, Dani bustled over to the table with plates of pancakes. She set them down in front of us and went back for hers. Then, she brought out the bacon on a plate, a bowl of fresh fruit, maple syrup, and butter.
“I don’t know what you ever did to deserve her, Ryder, but you hit the motherload. This looks amazing, Dani. Thank you,” I said before stuffing my face with a bite of fluffy pancake.
Dani smiled, pleased with my flattery, and cut into her own. She was a much more proper eater than me and Ryder. She cut each stacked bite into the perfect size, dragged it through her syrup, and popped it into her mouth. Then, she would take a bite of a berry and chew delicately as Ryder and I sucked everything off our plates and washed it down with coffee or water.
When I was done, I leaned back and patted my stomach. “You treat us right, Dani.”
She leaned back, too, and jokingly pushed her gut out. There wasn’t much of one, but she ran her hands over it like she was an expectant mother and flashed Ryder a bright smile. “What do you think of my food baby?”
Ryder smirked. “I can make it a real one if you like.”
Dani laughed and sucked her gut back in. “Maybe when things calm down.”
I was glad she’d made the comment. It had opened up a natural segue for me to say what I’d held my tongue about the night before for Angela and Sabian’s sake. They didn’t deserve some asshole ruining their special night with talk of murder and prison and impending doom.
Not that Dani deserved it after cooking a five-star breakfast, either.
I stroked my beard and cleared my throat. “I was actually hoping to talk to the two of you about this whole … mess.”
Dani arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I had Ryder’s attention too. “Spit it out, then.”
“I think now would be a very easy time to sit back and enjoy the tail end of summer. I think it would be easy to get distracted by responsibilities at the shop and enjoying mornings like this. I think—”
“Out with it,” Ryder growled.
I sighed. “I’m worried that when The Devil's Hand gets out of prison, we’re going to be caught with our dicks in our hands again, and it will cost someone else their life.”
Dani shot a look at Ryder, who was scowling at me from across the table. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “You think I’m just going to fuck around?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. That bastard almost cost us Sabian too. You and I were both there. Had I not brought Caleb with me back here, things would have gone a whole lot differently.”
Dani was nodding. “Hear him out, Johnny.”
“I hear him,” Ryder said flatly. “And I agree with you, Derek. The fact that you felt you needed to say any of this shit to me is fucking annoying. You really think I would prefer to work on my tan than figure out a way to stop this piece of shit in his tracks as soon as he’s out of the block?”
I shrugged. “No. But I had to be sure.”
Ryder was an intimidating man. More than intimidating. I’d seen him do some scary shit—helped him do some scary shit—and I was not in a hurry to plant myself in his line of fire. Ryder leaned back again and knitted his hands behind his head. “We’re going to take action, Derek. Rest assured.”
“What do you need me to do?”
Ryder smiled. “I want you to put the word out with any of your old contacts from your life before the Lost Breed. See if anyone knows anything about The Devil's Hand. This prick is going down for what he did to Hyde. Mark my words.”
I marked them in the back of my mind like a giant fucking neon sign.
All it said was death.
Chapter 2
Evelyn
Every single job posting I scrolled by was another blow to my confidence. I wasn’t qualified for anything, not even most serving jobs.
I readjusted myself on Penny’s couch, tucking my legs under my body to sit cross-legged and pulling the laptop over my knees. As I read through the description of a posting for a barista position, I pulled my dark hair over one shoulder and began aimlessly braiding my curls.
“Must be a self-starter. Must have reliable transportation. Must like working early shifts. Must have a minimum of two years experience in a restaurant environment.” I groaned and tossed my braid back over my shoulder. “Two years? To make coffee and put a scone on a plate? Give a girl a chance, for crying out loud!”
I heard the shower turn off down the hall off the living room. Penny’s voice carried down the hall as she sang a familiar Disney parody while she dried off.
I wished I had my shit figured out like she did. She was working at a bank as a teller, but everything was in place for her to work toward moving into being a financial advisor. She was wicked smart when it came to money, and her advice had been extremely helpful over the last month and a half. She was beautiful and charming, and I felt like dead weight sleeping on her couch every night.
I reminded myself every day that it was only temporary. Just until I could land a job and get enough money to find my own apartment and set out on my own. This was simply the price I had to pay for wasting too much time going down a path I didn’t want.
My parents, bless their souls, had pushed me into law school two years ago after they couldn’t handle my dillydallying—their words, not mine—any longer. At the time, I’d ju
st finished up my first year working for a family in Honolulu as their nanny. They had two little girls who I adored, and I’d loved my time there with them. I cooked and cleaned, took the kids to and from school and their recreational activities, and attended all family events. Had my parents not forced me into law school, I would probably still be there living in the garden shed the father had converted into a charming little bedroom in the backyard.
But I didn’t stand my ground. I let my parents bulldoze me, and I was in law school that September. I lasted two years before dropping out due to misery and self-loathing. I was being untrue to myself. The corporate and business life was not what my soul craved. I needed freedom and fun and energy. I needed passion and love and fierce commitment to what set my soul on fire.
That was not law school.
My parents didn’t take the news well. My mother, a newly retired orthodontist, nearly had a brain aneurysm when I sat across the dining room table from her and told her I’d dropped out. My father tried to appease her to no avail.
The next morning, they kicked me out. I packed up what I could and called Penny, sobbing, and she told me to bring my shit over to her house. When I arrived, she had a buffet of snacks set out on the living room table, a bottle of wine, nearly a dozen blankets, and a rom-com ready to start on her big flat-screen TV. She’d hugged me while I cried and asked me to stay with her until I was on my feet.