Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5)
Read Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5) Online
Authors: Chiah Wilder,Hot Tree Editing
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Crime, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Heist, #Crime Fiction, #MC, #Fiction, #Romance
AN INSURGENTS MC ROMANCE
Chiah Wilder
Copyright © 2016 by Chiah Wilder
Kindle Edition
Editing by
Hot Tree Editing
Cover design by
Cheeky Covers
Proofreading by
Wyrmwood Editing
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Banger, President of the Insurgents MC, isn’t looking for a woman to replace his beloved wife. Ever since she died, he’s closed his heart to loving again. He satisfies his carnal pleasure with the club girls and hoodrats. It’s safer that way.
The President of the national club may have sparkling blue eyes and an infectious smile, but make no mistake, if someone crosses him or his club, he’d slit their throat in a heartbeat.
Set in his ways, tough, tattooed, and a no BS-type of man, Banger is doing just fine until he meets the sassy, curly-haired, single mom who can cook the best fried chicken he’s ever tasted.
He can’t get enough of her cooking…or her.
For the first time since he’s been widowed, he wants a woman in his life warming his bed.
And the no-nonsense woman, who has a body made for sinning, has turned his world upside down.
Belle Dermot is a widow with two kids whose husband left her penniless. Wanting a fresh start, she moves to Pinewood Springs and takes a job at the local diner cooking tasty, home-cooked meals.
After finding out her husband was a cheating louse, the last thing she wants is another man in her life. She has her hands full with a rebellious teenage daughter, paying the bills, and fending off nasty accusations that she poisoned her husband.
Then she meets Banger, the muscular, handsome, and rugged biker who comes crashing into her life.
If only he wasn’t so nice to her and didn’t get her all hot and bothered. And why did he have to be so damn good in bed?
As hard as she tries to push him away, he keeps slipping back into her life, helping her with her problems. And Banger’s not the type to let go once he decides on something. And he’s decided to make Belle his. Now, he just needs her to agree to be his woman…
The Insurgents MC series are standalone romance novels. This is Banger and Belle’s love story. This book contains violence, sexual assault (not graphic), strong language, and steamy/graphic sexual scenes. It describes the life and actions of an outlaw motorcycle club. If any of these issues offend you, please do not read the book. HEA. No cliffhangers!
The book is intended for readers over the age of 18.
Previous Titles in the Series:
Hawk’s Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 1
Jax’s Dilemma: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 2
Chas’s Fervor: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 3
Axe’s Fall: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 4
Bonus Book: Hawk’s Property, Insurgents MC (Book 1)
Lakeview, Colorado
H
arold Dermot lay
in bed watching her take out his rapid-acting insulin vial, rolling it in her hands to minimize the air bubbles. He leaned his head back on his pillow, waiting for her to give him his daily shot. Her light jasmine perfume wafted around him, and Harold’s groin pulled as he imagined tugging her into his arms and kissing her before they made love. Harold was in love with her, and he hoped that his dalliance with Megan had been forgiven. It was a moment of weakness. He was sixty-one years old, and when his pretty, sexy secretary had flirted with him, he’d succumbed to a passionate affair. He never meant for anyone to find out, and even though he’d broken it off with Megan, she still called him, threatening to expose their relationship.
Harold was a self-made, successful businessman, who owned a large textile company. He’d been married for fifteen years and had one adopted daughter and a son with his wife. He also had a son and daughter from his first wife, who’d died sixteen years before. Harold loved his wife, but when the fresh, twenty-three-year-old employee cozied up to him, he felt flattered, excited, and young again.
He’d never wanted anyone to find out, especially his wife, but somehow she’d become suspicious about his weekly late nights, and too many out-of-town business trips. Harold knew he was being careless, knew his wife would be devastated if she found out, but the lure of firm flesh and unbridled passion was the youth elixir his aging body craved. When he was with Megan, he wasn’t a sixty-one-year-old father and husband; he was a youthful, invincible man. Megan offered him youth and new sex—a powerful aphrodisiac.
Harold heard her soft padded footsteps as she approached him. He fluttered his eyes opened and smiled at her, loving the way her dark hair fell softly around her face as she bent over to give him his shot. He normally gave himself his injections, but when she was around, she wanted to do it for him. She’d told him she loved spoiling him. A smile whispered over his lips before his teeth bit his inner cheek, preparing for the burning sting of the shot to course through his body. She pushed the needle into his abdomen. He waited for the burn. Nothing. His eyes widened.
“Did it hurt?” she asked as she brushed his forehead.
“No, just a small sting. None of the burning. I wonder why.” As Harold looked into her eyes, a shiver shimmied up his spine when icy contempt glared back at him. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she walked back to the dresser, leaned against it, and faced him.
Within seconds, Harold realized he had trouble moving his eyes and fingers, followed by his arms and legs. All he could do was stare at the steely gaze boring into him.
What the hell is going on?
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t open his mouth.
I can’t cry for help
. He summoned all his will and tried to move his finger.
Come on, finger! Why won’t you just move? I can’t move. I can’t yell out. I’m paralyzed!
Panic set in as Harold’s lungs tried in vain to work, to breathe. Swallowing was becoming more and more difficult. As he watched her lips turn up in a satisfied grin, he knew he was going to die.
How could she do this to me? I told her I loved her. How cunning she was to pretend she’d forgiven me.
Harold wasn’t ready to die; he had a lot more living to do. He had so much more to accomplish.
She crept over to him, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “No one fucks me over, asshole.”
Black spots blurred his vision and as he slipped into unconsciousness, he realized that with a prick of a needle, his life, his essence would be snuffed out.
What a foolish way to die.
One year later
“W
hy’re you so
adamant about going to Ruthie’s for dinner, babe?” Hawk asked Cara as he turned the SUV into the diner’s parking lot.
“Because I know chicken fried steak is one of Banger’s favorites.” Cara looked over her shoulder at Banger, who sat in the backseat, fiddling with his phone. “Am I right?”
“Yeah. I fuckin’ love a good chicken fried steak. I like Ruthie’s too, but I haven’t been there in a while since the food hasn’t been so good. Hope tonight’s better.”
“It is. Ruthie hired a new cook, and the food is excellent.”
“You don’t happen to know this cook, do you, Cara?” Hawk probed.
When Hawk shot a hard glance at her, Banger laughed. Judging by the way Cara was acting, he knew she was up to something, and from Hawk’s expression, he knew it too. Banger didn’t give a damn what she was up to; as long as the chicken fried steak kicked ass, he’d be happy.
Ruthie’s diner was a landmark in Pinewood Springs. Opened in 1942, the establishment boasted tasty, home-cooked meals. Ruthie had inherited the place from her dad after he died. She was in her mid-fifties, had thrown out three husbands, and had a heart of gold. Her second husband and Banger were good friends, and that was how Banger became friends with her. She always had a good story to tell, and her tough exterior made her endearing to a lot of the bikers in the area, especially the Insurgents MC.
The diner had gone through a recent renovation, which had repaired the cracked vinyl seats and shined up all the chrome and steel. The multi-colored checkerboard floor gave a punch of color to the monochromatic black and gray of the eatery.
Cara led the two men to a large booth next to the street-front window. As she scooted in, Banger slipped into the seat across from her and Hawk. A redheaded waitress in a white uniform with pink piping set three glasses of water on the table while asking, “You want anything else to drink?” After taking their drink and dinner orders, she ambled away.
Twenty minutes later, three plates of steaming chicken fried steak smothered in brown gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans with cherry tomatoes tantalized the trio. Banger, his eyes lighting up when the waitress set the basket of homemade buttermilk biscuits in front of him, smacked his lips. “I hope this tastes as good as it looks.” He picked up his fork and knife and dove into his meal.
Hawk leaned over and kissed Cara on the cheek. “You done good, babe. This is fuckin’ delicious.”
“Damn good.” Banger mopped up the remaining gravy on his plate with a biscuit, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back against the seat. “The best chicken fried steak I’ve ever tasted.” He patted his stomach, a smile on his face.
Cara grinned as she placed half of her dinner on Hawk’s plate, and he proceeded to eat it up. Watching Cara and Hawk together made Banger laugh, but sometimes, it reminded him how alone he was since his wife, Grace, had died six years before. Every so often, it would hit him hard, and he’d miss Grace so much it ached.
Shaking his head, he slid out of the booth and headed for the restroom. In the narrow hallway, the woman’s bathroom door opened and a curvy, dark-haired woman came out, slamming right into him. Banger grabbed her arm and tugged her up as she began to fall.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. Striking, electric-blue eyes met his as she lightly grazed his forearm with her fingers. Her touch was stirring, and he stared at her, wide-eyed, as a single shiver zinged through him. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.”