Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Cora -- Survival is my full-time job. Delivering groceries to the Kiss of Death MC should’ve been just another stop… until Rancor stepped out of the shadows and looked at me like he already knew my secrets. His quiet strength is wrapped in scars and heat. He’s the kind of man who could break the world but touches me like I’m the only soft thing he’s got left. I should run. Instead, I keep driving through those gates, craving the one man who makes me feel safe in ways I don’t dare say out loud.
Rancor -- I buried my heart years ago. Grief, violence, and prison killed anything left inside me, and I was glad. It meant I didn’t have to feel anything. Then Cora walked into the compound and cracked me open with a single glance. She’s brave without meaning to be, a storm in a small frame, and the first woman to make me feel anything since the night my life ended. One touch, and I knew I’d protect her with my last breath. One kiss and I knew I’d kill for her. I’ve already lost too much to lose her, too. Especially not to the same family who already ruined my life.
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*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Cora
The gates of the Kiss of Death MC compound loomed ahead, iron and rust and threat. I knew the place was called Kiss of Death because there was a big-ass sign on the gate. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel of my beat-up sedan. No one wanted to deliver here, and for good reason. My second delivery here felt even worse.
The first time I could blame on ignorance, on not knowing better. This time I drove through those gates with full knowledge of what waited inside. At least, I hoped I did. The people inside these gates had been nothing but kind to me. Tipped well, too. I still found it hard to let my guard down in a place literally named Kiss of Death.
The sedan’s engine coughed as I pressed the accelerator. The sound seemed too loud, even in a place that could get noisy. The rumble of a bike starting up had me jumping. As the guy caught sight of me, he froze and shut down the bike. Next thing I knew he was rolling backward, pushing the bike with his feet until he returned to the inside of the garage. I rolled forward, past the gates.
Camo netting stretched between the buildings, creating shadows in the afternoon light. The warehouses formed a perfect square with some kind of military precision in the architecture. If I didn’t need the money, I definitely wouldn’t be here.
The main building rose ahead. I’d been directed there last time, so I aimed for the same spot. I thought about the envelope from my first delivery. Cash, all of it, with a tip that equaled half the order total. That money had bought groceries for a week, gas for two. It had been the difference between making rent on time and asking my landlord for another extension I wouldn’t get.
The parking area materialized ahead. I pulled in next to a row of motorcycles, their chrome catching the filtered light through the netting. My sedan looked all kinds of wrong among them.
I shifted into park and killed the engine. The silence felt worse than the noise. Now I could hear everything. Distant music from somewhere inside the compound. Male voices, laughing. It all sounded so normal I wanted to laugh at myself. Obviously they’d been grateful to get someone to deliver here and had treated me well. The phone app tracked my movements, kind of like a safeguard, so I really had little to worry about. I hoped.
My fingers fumbled with the door handle. Metal, cold against my palm. I pushed it open and the hinges squeaked, announcing my presence to anyone within earshot. The air outside tasted different than in my car. Heavier. It carried scents I couldn’t identify; motor oil and something sharp underneath, something that made my lizard brain want to run.
Movement from the clubhouse caught my eye. Hannah bounded out waving as she hurried to me. She’d been the one to meet me last time.
She hurried toward me with an easy confidence and a bright, genuine smile I envied. Her dark hair caught the filtered light, pulled back from her face in a way that revealed high cheekbones and striking hazel eyes. She wore jeans and a simple T-shirt, and a black leather vest. I’d noticed last time the vest was similar to her husband’s, though the back proclaimed her as “Property of Knuckles” where his simply said “Kiss of Death MC” and “Nashville, TN”. It sounded barbaric, but this woman didn’t seem oppressed in any way. In fact, when I met her the last time, her husband had dropped a kiss on top of her head as he’d passed her and hadn’t let Hannah carry anything from the car.
I raised a hand in an awkward wave, immediately feeling stupid for the gesture. But Hannah’s expression softened further, and she picked up her pace. I moved to the back of my car and lifted the trunk lid, ready to help her unload.
“You came back.” Hannah’s voice held a warm welcome that seemed impossible in this place. She stopped a few feet from my car, close enough to be friendly but far enough to respect boundaries. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“The order came through.” I tried to keep my voice steady, professional. “Same as last time.”
“And you accepted it.” Something shifted in her expression, a subtle approval that made me stand a little straighter. “Most drivers reject anything with our address. The guys haven’t done anything, but this many ex-cons in one place makes people nervous, I guess.” She frowned. “People tend to overlook the good they do. Not everyone guilty of bad things is a bad person.”
I tilted my head to the side. “You know, I never thought about it that way. But you’re right. I shouldn’t judge people unless they give me reason to.” I looked away, suddenly ashamed of myself. “I’d be in a world of hurt if people judged me by what they saw on the surface.”