Abbi Glines is kicking of a brand new series this week, set in the same world as her addictive Smoke series, and I have an excerpt for you from this steamy, best friend’s brother, MC romance.
Excerpt
Dolly
“Here,” Micah said, basically shoving me toward the guy with a man bun. These dang heels were going to end up breaking my ankles if I kept being pushed around like this. “Take her in your vehicle.”
My eyes swung back to look at Micah. He had forced me to leave my boyfriend, and now, he was giving me to some man I didn’t know? I needed to call Pepper. She would be able to free me from whatever insanity her brother was involved in … but my purse was inside the bar.
Crappity crap, crap.
“My purse!” I told Micah. “I left it in there.”
He had the gall to look annoyed. At me! This was his doing. Not mine. I opened my mouth to tell him just that, too, but he turned his head slightly to the left and lifted his chin at one of the other men.
“Go get her fucking purse. Take those three with you.”
I closed my mouth, not even bothering with a thank-you. He didn’t deserve one. This day was supposed to be the most romantic day of my life, and he had walked right into it and ruined everything. All the plans I had made. I’d even sucked it up and gotten waxed. Between my legs! Did he have any idea how embarrassing and painful it was to have someone wax up your privates, then rip it off? Now, that was all for nothing. I would be lucky if Canyon ever spoke to me again.
“Where do you want me to take her?” the man-bun guy asked.
Micah let out another groan and ran his hand through his dark golden locks. Micah had always kept his hair just long enough to be able to pull it back. But he never let it get too long. I hated that I knew that about him. I also knew his shoe size, favorite movie, the way he liked his coffee, and his favorite foods. Once, I had made it my life mission to know all the things about him so I could hopefully use that knowledge to win his heart. Which was a completely idiotic, naive little girl daydream. I had grown up. Thank the good Lord.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Where are you living these days, Dolly?” he asked me. “You still at your momma’s?”
I threw my shoulders back and looked him straight in the eye, insulted that he’d think I was still at my momma’s house. I was twenty-one years old. Granted, I was a virgin, but I wasn’t that pathetic. “No, I am not still living with Momma,” I stated matter-of-factly. “I have my own apartment.”
He didn’t seem impressed. “In Stuart, near your momma, I hope,” he drawled, then turned to look at the guy he’d basically tossed me off to. “She can’t go back to Stuart. Not until Canyon makes his next move. Pepper will have my balls if something happens to her. Just”—he sighed heavily—“take her to the club. I’ll figure shit out later.”
Club? Ain’t no way I was going to his little motorcycle club’s clubhouse.
“My apartment isn’t in Stuart,” I informed him. I started to tell him where it was when he held a hand up at me, as if I were a child, to shut me up. My back stiffened.
“Doesn’t matter. Canyon will know where to find you. You’re going to the club until I have time to figure it out.”
Before I could argue, the man behind me asked, “Why can’t you take her? I’m heading back to Ocala. That’s not in my direction.”
He chuckled as if that suggestion was funny. “Surely, Levi, you’ve figured out by now that I don’t put a bitch on the back of my bike.”
Bitch? Excuse me? I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.
“I’ll take her,” a deep, gravelly voice said somewhere off to my right.
Micah nodded once. “That’ll work.”
No, it would not work!
“I want to go home. In a car,” I demanded.
Micah ignored me and walked over to throw his leg over an intimidating-looking motorcycle. I just stood there and watched as he ignored me. The man wasn’t even acknowledging that I had spoken.
“When did you start acting so ugly, Micah Abe?” I asked, my eyes narrowed as I stared at him.
He smirked as he finally looked my way again. The dimple in his cheek still made my stomach do weird things. “Sugar, ain’t no woman ever called me ugly.”
I rolled my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “You know what I mean.”
He chuckled just before the roar of his bike drowned out anything else I was gonna say. The other bikes seemed to take that as their cue, and the entire parking lot became a deep rumble that vibrated the ground under my feet.
“Better go get on the back of Tex’s bike,” the man Micah had called Levi said from behind me. Even though he was basically shouting over all the dang noise that I barely heard him.
I turned my head to look over at the men on shiny death mobiles. I had been too scared to ride on Canyon’s. Momma had said getting on a bike was asking for a funeral. I believed her, but it didn’t look like I had much of a choice in the matter. A tall, lanky guy with short brown hair approached me then and held out my purse for me to take.
I reached for it and said, “Thank you,” even though I couldn’t hear my own voice.
He simply nodded and walked over to an unoccupied bike and climbed on it. Just like the others, he was wearing a leather vest that said Judgment on the back, above half of a skull that wore a crown and had angel wings with lightning bolts surrounding it. Fighting back tears from the pure frustration and horror this day had turned into, I glanced out at the men, trying to figure out who Tex was and if this was truly my only option.
A man with dreadlocks and brown hair, bare arms covered in tattoos, and a dark pair of sunglasses held up a hand to me, then motioned with a nod of his head to come on. Great. I was not only getting on a death trap, but the driver also looked like he belonged in prison. Perhaps this day could get worse.
My only other option was going inside to beg Canyon to believe me. But I had a feeling if I did that, then Micah and these men would retaliate. I didn’t want anyone hurt. Especially Canyon. Sighing in defeat, I walked over to the scary biker. He held out a hand to me, and I stared down at it. He had more rings on his fingers than my momma, and that was saying a lot. Momma loved her jewelry. I could hear her voice clear as day, telling me that I couldn’t trust a man who was covered in tattoos and wore rings.
Well, Momma, looks like I don’t have a choice, I thought bitterly.
Placing my hand in his much larger one, I let him steady me as I tried to climb on the back of his bike with some dignity. Which was impossible with these heels on. I looked more like a toddler trying to get up on her first tricycle.
When I was finally on the back and felt steady, Tex called back to me, “Hold on to me, darlin’.”
I frowned, thinking there was no way I was wrapping my arms around some strange man.
When I didn’t do as instructed, he turned more this time and pulled his sunglasses down so that I could see the green of his eyes. “You gotta hang on to me if you don’t want to fly off the fucking back of my bike.”
Oh. Well, in that case, I guessed I was wrapping my arms around a strange man. I nodded, and the corner of his lips twitched in amusement before he turned back around and revved his engine. I shoved my purse down between the middle of my legs before scooting closer to him and putting my arms around his very hard middle. Sure, I had seen his muscular arms, but it was still shocking. I felt his body vibrate from a deep chuckle, and I winced.
How had I ended up here? Why did I have the worst luck in the world? Why wasn’t I more like Pepper? She would have told all of them to go to hell and walked away on her own two feet. Not caring what they said or threatened. My best friend was a force of nature. I was not.
When the death machine I was on pulled out into the pack of other bikers, I closed my eyes, afraid to watch.
My life couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t. I had things to do. Losing my virginity was at the top of that list. Yes, I had a list. I’d written down my goals the day I turned twenty-one, and I was slowly checking them off said list. I’d moved out of my momma’s house in Stuart, Florida, three months ago and into an apartment in Coral Gables. I was registered to start classes at the University of Miami in a few weeks. I had cut off five inches of my hair; although it was still long, it wasn’t all the way to my waist—the way my momma had wanted it. I even had layers in it now. Something she had frowned upon, but I felt it made me look older, sexier, stylish. I still had ten more things on that list to accomplish, but I wasn’t sure I would see another day. How tragic would that be?
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