I’m a drifter. A man born to ride through this world alone. There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives. I was going to be a true American hero. But God had another plan. Or maybe Satan did. For everything I touch finds mortality. I’m no hero. I’m nothing. I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell. Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos. The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes. A girl who has the power to turn me inside out. A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior. Until she’s not. But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.
Strong. Independent. Fierce. They are the three things I strived to be. But sometimes being successful can be lonely. Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her. Maybe even love her. Sometimes the strong become vulnerable. Or worse, the victor becomes the victim. Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you. Defeated. Broken. Haunted. They are the three things I have become. In my darkest hour I admit defeat. In my darkest hour I need one person. I need him. Stryker.
***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***
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The Morning After
Not giving a flying fuck if they kill one another, I leave the two criminals in the living room to duke it out over who has a bigger rap sheet and head straight for my Keurig. They can pull out their dicks and measure them against the wall for all I care—I’ve had enough of the A&E documentary my life has become. What happened to the normal dating scene? Where a relationship progresses over candlelit dinners, great sex and nights spent watching movies on the couch. Not where the guy you’ve technically never even been on a date with decides he’s going to be your bodyguard because your brother wants to play Al Capone. Rocco leaves, slamming the door behind him as I take two mugs out of cabinet and fill them with coffee. Turning around, I push one mug across the breakfast nook and lift my gaze to criminal number one. “So that just happened,” I say, bringing the mug to my lips. “Great way to start the day.” “I disagree. My day started pretty fucking good since I woke up with you all over me,” he replies, taking the cup I offered him. “Then your brother showed up, and I thought he was your boyfriend.” “Well, you think very highly of me,” I mutter, setting my mug on the counter before bracing my hands against the granite. “C’mon, that’s not what I meant,” he argues, flashing me a smile. “We don’t know each other very well.” “Well, that’s about to change isn’t it?” “I suppose it is. It also seems like you were right about meeting that night in the restaurant. Looks to me like you and I were at the right place at exactly the right time,” he points out, raising an eyebrow. “Watch it, Stryker…you’re starting to sound like a hopeless romantic,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes for good measure. I nearly spit my coffee out when his eyebrows shoot up to the top of his bald head. “Relax, Romeo. I don’t fall easily,” I assure him, crossing my arms against my chest as I chew on my lip and watch him sigh in a relief. Men are such pussies when it comes to love. And the ones who aren’t are the ones a girl like me never finds. “How’s this going to work? If you plan on moving in with me I’m telling you now, I’m not giving up my closet space,” I warn. “Not a problem, all my shit blew up yesterday remember?” I wince. “Sorry that was insensitive of me,” I reply. He shakes his head as he sets the coffee mug on the counter but continues to hold onto it. “I’m not moving in, pretty girl. The clubhouse might be in ruins but my home is with my brothers, with my club. Where that is? I’m not sure yet,” he says, then pauses for a moment and rubs his free hand over his head. “Do you have work today?” “It’s Sunday,” I tell him. “Okay, so then tomorrow we’ll start a routine. I’ll take you to work in the morning, check out the area so I know your surroundings and when you’re done, I’ll pick you up. I should have a phone by the end of the day so if you need me during work hours I’ll just be a phone call away. I’m going to need your brother’s number too, in case of anything.” “You have it all figured out,” I reply, not even bothering to hide the surprise in my voice. “Nah, I fake it well though don’t I?” “Extremely. What happens after work?” He cocks his head, pretending to be thinking but I see the smirk he’s trying to hide and the mischievous look in his brown eyes. “Well, a man’s gotta eat,” he says. “Yeah, I rarely cook,” I reply. “I wasn’t talking about food, pretty girl.” And there it is. My cheeks turn cherry red as he wiggles his eyebrows and laughs. “No comment,” I huff. “Red looks good on you.” The laughter dies on his lips as does the playful banter and all that’s left is the live wires of electricity sizzling between us. I lied. If he keeps looking at me like that I’m going to most definitely fall for him. I’m fucked. Clearing my throat, I change the subject in an attempt to resurrect that playfulness I’m starting to crave. “So, were you ever going to tell me you were in jail?” “No.” “Well, now that I know are you going to tell me why you were?” He brings the coffee mug back to his lips, hiding his smile before he takes a sip. I raise an eyebrow expectantly as he shrugs his shoulders and places the mug on the counter. “I’ve got a thing for bologna and cheese,” he finally answers with a smirk. Bastard. “Good,” I tell him, spinning around to drop my empty mug in the sink before I glance over my shoulder at him and smile sweetly. “That’s what we’re having for dinner.” “Well played, pretty girl,” he laughs, stepping around the breakfast nook. “You know…” He starts as he comes up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and his hands toy with the belt of my robe, wrapping the end around his wrist. “I’m starting to get hungry,” he whispers against my ear. “There are eggs in the fridge,” I mumble. “I don’t want eggs, Gina.” He yanks his wrist back and my robe becomes undone. His other hand moves from my waist and slips between the folds of my robe, spreading it open and exposing my body to his touch. My body melts into his as his fingers glide over my stomach, circling my belly button before inching lower and lower until his fingers are right where I want them.
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-Author Janine Infante Bosco
About the Author
Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself. She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.