Dark Biker Romance Books | Biker's Prisoner | Book #7 Rebel Barbarians Motorcycle Club Romance
Ruger is dark, dangerous, demented and completely depraved. He has come up against the other bikers several times in the past for his attitude towards people of other races. But when he sees Zayna in person for the first time, everything changes for Ruger.
He has this instant urge to both keep and protect her… much different from what he ever experienced for a woman before.
Zayna got into a bad situation in Las Vegas, which led to her getting human trafficked and then rescued by a pair of the Rebel Barbarians. Quin and Tanner take her out to the desert where Ruger promises to look after her and get her on her feet.
Tanner makes the call — Zayna stays with Ruger.
She agrees to stay with Ruger. But what kind of black woman would agree to shack up with a crazy, yellow-haired gun nut with a mysterious baby that isn’t his, several dead bodies under his belt, and a look in his eye that says “I don’t take no for an answer”.
From the very first chapter we have TRIGGERS TRIGGERS TRIGGERS. This book is insanely dark and I need you to be in the right headspace for this story.
Welcome to the gritty underworld of problematic all-American bikers…
Ruger’s book ended up being even longer than Biker’s Property & Biker’s Collar. The scenes in this book just needed more time on the page.
(Click here to see all the preorders and books available.)
Zayna represents a female lead with a very dark past which will slowly get revealed throughout the book. Stay locked in, because this book is absolutely not for the faint-hearted.
Click here to check out the story on Kindle.
Chapter #1
RUGER
2 days before Tanner & Quin’s Arrival
I’m a humane executioner. When I wasn’t pushing Darlene around for answers, I did lines of cocaine and studied everything I needed to know about the human body for the procedure. Getting shot means I’ll have a harder time with the dirty job I have to do, but the further along Darlene gets in her pregnancy, the harder it is for her to do much of everything. I give her just enough calories to keep the baby alive. Just enough exercise. Just enough of everything.
I haven’t hit her in weeks. It’s the third trimester. The most important one. The closer she gets to the end of her life, the stranger my feelings get about the whole situation. I tried praying about it, but Jesus doesn’t want to listen to a madman’s murder plot. He has his hands plugged over his ears.
And I’m alone again. Doc is dead. The man I thought would be with me until I got shot and died doing something for the club. But here I am. Still alive despite everything and responsible for another life.
Not Darlene’s life. The life inside her.
The baby I’m going to cut out of her.
A little boy.
I start Darlene’s day by dragging a TV into her prison and letting her watch five episodes of Grey’s Anatomy back to back. She likes the plotline where Maggie found out she has a twin cousin and killed her in the course of the same episode. Insane. I don’t like all the hollering on that show. Makes me nervous. I smoke on and off while she watches TV and do a little cocaine when I feel myself nodding off.
I can sleep once the baby is born. When I bring ice cream for breakfast, Darlene gets suspicious.
“Why are you bringing me my favorite food and letting me watch TV?” Darlene says, looking up at me from beneath tortured blue eyes. I beat the fucking life out of her. Each time I look in her eyes, I try to make myself give a fuck… but I don’t. She doesn’t seem human to me anymore.
That will make it easy to get the job done.
“Because it’s a nice day out.”
It’s never a nice day out on the Indian reservation. This place is straight up ghetto and I don’t care if Oske blames me for it. I didn’t tell them to move out to the desert and frankly, whoever did clearly wanted them to burn to death. It’s hot as fuck here all the damn time and it smells outside. There are stray dogs taking over the front porch half the fucking time.
People drive by and spit on me just because I’m white. I can’t think of any other reason. Maybe the gunshots and the screams, but I know these people have nothing but racism and revenge in their hearts…
“I don’t believe you,” she says. “I think you’re up to something.”
“What could I be up to, Darlene?”
I can’t wait for her to be dead.
“You’re ready to apologize and accept that I made a mistake.”
This woman is fucking delusional. She spent over $25,000. I worked so fucking hard for that money. I thought I was supporting my wife and she humiliated me in front of all the Barbarians. I cut the tattoo off her skin already. Does she really think there’s a way back after this?
“Eat your ice-cream, Darlene.”
“I knew it,” she says. “It’s the pregnancy turning you on.”
Darlene couldn’t turn me on if she wrapped her hand around my dick and shoved it up her ass. I stare at her while she eats, hoping to scare her. She just keeps going in on the ice cream. My gaze drops from her face to her belly. The good thing about this being my first time doing a C-section is that only one needs to survive.
The baby.
I watch her eating ice-cream, trying to make myself feel something as I watch her. There’s nothing. Just all numb everywhere. I think the last time I felt something aside from pure rage was the night I found out about Doc. I grew up under the assumption that my dumb ass would die before Doc would. I never imagined for a second that I would have to go on without him.
Needless to say, he wouldn’t exactly approve of this.
“You’re staring,” Darlene says. “Be patient, big boy.”
I shudder and just keep watching her. Quiet. More self-conscious than concerned with Darlene and the thoughts in her head. Those thoughts will go all quiet soon and she won’t have to concern herself with who she has to lie to and fuck around on to get money, attention… all the stupid shit she cares about.
When she’s done, she slams it on the floor, rattling the bowl.
“All finished. Can I watch Real Housewives?”
She’s been into Potomac lately — constantly bitching that the “Indian bitch” as she calls Oske — doesn’t have a 4K television. Considering the way I’ve done her ass up, you would think her concerns would be a lot bigger than the pixels on her television.
“What does the baby want?” I ask her.
“The baby wants to fart,” Darlene says. Then, she farts.
It feels like a sign from God. Spiritual punctuation ending one chapter of my life and starting up another. I grab the bowl from Darlene and take it out to the sink. Having the Shaw boys in here was like living with a bunch of scrappy hairy dogs. All they do is scheme and gamble. Once I clean the bowl and spoon, I dry it and put it away. Wipe down the sink. Squeeze out the sponge.
Life without routine will drive you crazy.
I open the kitchen drawer with all Oske’s implements. True to her heritage, the crazy bitch has every tool you could possibly need to skin a deer. Never seen a deer out here on the reservation but Oske took it personally when I asked her if she ever used those knives on a dog. It’s just a question.
Just a fucking question. Those folks are just damned sensitive — that’s what it is.
I set up all the knives and scalpels. Towels. There’s going to be a lot of blood. Warm water. Dry cloth for my hands. Soap. I feel like a fucking midwife by the time I have it all together. Ain’t no typical midwifing about to happen. I clear off the kitchen table, grimacing as I move aside a hunting knife, a vape pen and two scratch-off tickets, setting them on the kitchen counter.
I recognize the Walmart dining table’s flimsy materials once I clear it off. Solid, sturdy wood would give me more security that Darlene won’t break the table. I’ll burn the table once I’m done, so I’ll have to get Oske a new one. Doesn’t matter.
I get disability checks from the Army. Gideon acts like he’s the only Army Ranger… He isn’t. I served my country like all the real men in our family. Like Gideon. Like Doc. Like the twins. My body stiffens with resolve as I think about Jairus and Jotham laid out in the desert like that. Not after the shit we went through.
Jotham and I were on the same squad. Went by Joe in the Army, led prayers for every meal… He didn’t deserve to die. But Darlene does. For her betrayal. For what she stands for. For making me look like a fucking fool.
It would be easier if I could drug her, but I don’t have the shit I need. I could get it from Anna if I wasn’t so worried about her asking too many questions or worse — getting in my way.
I wipe the table down with a white cloth and bleach before I take my shirt off. Not official medical procedure, but since I have to burn everything I’m wearing, I might as well save what I can. Darlene, impatient because I haven’t put her fucking show on, starts singing Dolly Parton from the back room.
She knows I hate Dolly Parton. Nothing against the woman personally. Just bad memories from my tour of duty. Bad fucking memories. It’s like there’s some small part of her that knows what I’m planning and wants to put me on edge.
My bloodlust is stronger than my shell shock today. It’s a nice day. A good day to die, a good day to be born…
I walk to the far end of the trailer and open the door to Darlene’s room. She rolls her eyes petulantly.
“Finally,” she says. “Took your ass long enough. I want the remote.”
“We’re gonna watch in the living room.”
Her eyes light up and she holds up her wrist so I can untie her.
“Yes. Fucking finally. I knew you would get over it.”
I untie her and help her to her feet. She isn’t steady. Good. That will make what I have to do a lot fucking easier.
Darlene feels a bit light, which makes me nervous. Turns out all Southpaw’s stupid ass lectures had a point to them. My online education said Darlene has to weigh a certain amount for the child to have a higher likelihood of survival.
“This Indian girl doesn’t care much for decoration. What are those fucking branches on the wall?”
Normally, I would answer her, but the last time I said something disrespectful in front of those branches, I had a nightmare. Oske called me a superstitious racist when I told her about my dreams, but I don’t insult her weird Native American crap anymore.
“Shut the hell up, Darlene.”
“You sure know how to make a woman wet.”
We walk down the long hall to the open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room where I have my tools prepared.
Darlene doesn’t notice the strange way I have everything laid out. Her eyes fixate on Oske’s television — which Ethan bought for her so he could watch NCAA Water Polo in 4K while he was staying here. He lost $2,000 on the University of Wisconsin. Dumbass. What kind of idiot bets that much money on a swim team filled with black people?
Darlene gets a little too far out of reach with her excitement for the television and my hand juts out, wrapping around her wrist. Game time. I have to keep her cortisol as low as possible.
“Ruger!” She says.
“What?”
I try to make it sound believable.
“I want you,” I tell her. “You were right. But I want you the way I want you… Tied up on the dining table spread eagle for me.”
“Fuck, that’s dirty,” she says. I have her attention. I feel sick as she looks at me, but I can hide any emotion that I choose. Even disgust. Her eyes roam over my body with nothing but pure lust. “You want to take my pregnant pussy.”
“Yeah. That’s what I want. Take my shit back.”
Stupid fucking woman.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll let you do it then. Clothes off. You can tie me up. Maybe you’ll feel something if you see the way you’ve hurt me.”
It would be better if I forced out the lie that I didn’t want to hurt her. I can’t lie like that in front of God. I don’t want him looking that close when I start up sinning.
I watch Darlene undress. She has bruises all over her. Most are healed up. I never hit her torso. I stopped hitting her head once Gideon got through to me. I know they won’t leave me up here for long…
Southpaw is more predictable than he thinks. He’ll send Tanner next because Tanner won’t lose his cool around me the way Gideon does. Gideon makes it to fucking easy because he has no damn control over himself. I’m amazed he made it through the Rangers without getting his ass kicked out right after basic training.
Doc taught me to shut the fuck up and follow orders. Gideon puffs his chest out and acts all ignorant all the time.
I think of everything except Darlene’s body. It makes me sick to think another man touched what was once mine. She looks like a ghoul to me and the bruising doesn’t help. Her thighs are fucked up. Her arms. Everywhere I could hit without hurting the baby.
“You look beautiful,” I say to her. If my lie gets any longer, I won’t be able to pull it off.
She looks so damn appreciative for the compliment. Was it like that with the other man? The man she laid on her back and had this baby for? She confessed everything she did and it wasn’t just once she laid with this motherfucker. What I feel for her is nothing more than pure hatred. I can barely hold all my hatred back.
Her ass presses into the table and she spreads her legs. The smell is something fierce. I know I should be cleaning her more, but it’s a pain in the ass and it doesn’t matter as long as I can ignore the rank smell.
“I can’t wait to feel your big dick,” she says. “None of the others had a dick like yours.”
I turn her voice into a wasp buzzing in the back of my head. She won’t be human for long.
“Let me tie you up.”
I can’t bring myself to call her a pet name. I can’t bring myself to think anything good about her. I watch her stomach moving as she lies on her back. She holds her arms up, preparing herself for me. I have rope for the task that Oske uses for cows or sheep or whatever animals she has grazing a few acres away from here.
Darlene must have some of the same brains as those sheep because she gives me her hands and I hear that fucking wasp buzz buzzing away with her dirty talk until I have her nice and secure on the dining table. I step back and out of her line of sight. I don’t want her neon eyes glued to me while I think about how to approach this.
I need the baby to survive.
That’s the most important part of everything going on right now. Keep the baby alive.
“I’m gonna need to keep you quiet.”
I wrap up a white rag and Darlene eagerly opens her mouth. I don’t make eye contact with her. Once she has the rag in her mouth, I kiss her forehead. Throwing her a bone.
“Good…”
I can’t even finish the sentence. Good girl… She’s more like a dumb bitch. I move to the other side of the table where she can’t see me. Maybe I should strap her head down. I don’t know. My heart races because I’m new to this and I don’t want to fuck up. I stand between Darlene’s legs, looking at the part of her I need to work on before returning to the kitchen to grab my tools.
She sucks air in sharply when I pour rubbing alcohol over her stomach and skin. Working with a sterile white cloth and latex gloves on my hands, I rub every inch of her flesh clean that I’ll need to have cleaned up. The cold rubbing alcohol must tickle her. Those last sensations of life tingling across her skin before I slaughter her.
Doc, I wish you hadn’t died. I wish you hadn’t left me with my demons. I kept fighting as long as I could, but I done lost the fight.
I balance the scalpel in my left hand, ready to make the first cut. I’ve dressed a deer. With Jairus and Jotham, I dressed an elk out in Montana. This is a little different. A lot different. Once I can get my hand to make that first cut. This would have been easier if this bitch hadn’t shot my good arm.
That will make this a hell of a lot more complicated.
Prayer will make this easier. The Lord is my shepherd… I repeat the psalm to myself as my hand hovers over her. It’s going to hurt. I don’t want to give her anesthetic. I put my hand on her thigh to hold her down. I wish I had something to drink. That would make my hand steady.
Slowly, I draw the scalpel across Darlene’s skin, doing it just like the video said, making a not-so-deep cut about six to eight inches long beneath her navel. Darlene flips the fuck out once she feels the blood gush out. It takes a second — like even her fucking body is confused. But she gets it. And she acts like an animal.
The loud groaning noise gets sucked up by the white rag in her mouth. I use a towel to get the blood that seeps out of the cut. Left-handed. I have to do this shit left-handed. She can’t fight, but she tries and I have to wait a few seconds for her to freak the fuck out and numb out from shock, lying still on the table restrained.
I cut through skin, fat tissue and her abdominal muscles, ignoring Darlene’s painful reactions. It’s a medical procedure. I’m saving the child. Saving the child from a load of fucking bullshit. The videos tried to prepare me for the blood, but there’s just so fucking much.
But I see the piece of her I’m looking for and my heart swells. That’s her fucking uterus. It’s the goddamn uterus! I watched these videos a thousand fucking times, I swear to make sure I could see it properly. Wiping the blood off on a fresh towel so I can get my best control of the scalpel, I make a small incision in the lower part of Darlene’s uterus.
Buzz, buzz. She’s crying. Screaming. It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt. I have to make it worse. Using blunt forceps — Oske uses them on her sheep — I widen the incision and then I see it. The baby. I feel choked up and weird, like there’s two versions of Ruger Blackwood in the room.
Then something strange happens. I hear Doc’s voice clear as a fucking bell.
“Get that baby out, Bucky. Stop fucking around.”
I know he’s dead. I know this shit ain’t possible, but if it weren’t for Doc’s voice in my head, I might have passed out from the blood and the gore of Darlene’s body spread out all over the dining table. By the time I cut the uterus, she’s suffered so much blood loss that her movements and fight have dripped down the sides of the dining table.
I have to get the baby out. Now.
Boy. I was pretty sure that she was pregnant with a boy. It’s what I imagined I was doing – saving a little boy from Darlene. Saving a little boy from becoming a fuck up like me.
Reaching into her, I can’t tell at first. I cut the sack of fluids that are the last barrier to the outside world, and watch as fluid pours everywhere. Reaching through the cuts, I gently pull out the baby before grabbing a clamp to place on the umbilical cord to cut it with my knife. My hands are shaking so fucking much as I cut the cord that I swear I’ll screw up or drop the baby.
Darlene makes soft whimpering noises. There’s blood all over the floor. I have to get this baby breathing… make sure he’s alive.
Not he. I glance down and my heart sinks to my stomach.
Darlene’s baby is a little girl. And she has a pulse…
I look at the baby girl’s face. She doesn’t look like anyone but a little baby covered in placenta and all that other shit. I have to get it off her and get her breathing. Christ. This shit is disgusting. Darlene might still be alive. She might have lost too much blood. Her life is the least important one here…
Rushing away from Darlene’s body on the table, I get the baby clean as directed. But then… Darlene groans. She’s alive. And I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I finish the surgery. I stitch her ass up and give her water and at the end of it, Oske’s trailer smells like a butcher shop but…
The bitch survives.
And the baby…
I walk over to the bundle of blankets and look at her. She only cried a little once I got the oxygen flowing through her and now… Her instincts will want her close to her mother. When I pick up the baby for the first time, the strangest sensation courses through me. I take one step towards Darlene, propelled by a bestial instinct to reunite them — even if Darlene might not survive the night.
But one step and I freeze because a noise in the distance captures my attention. You can hear goddamn everything out here but some sounds aren’t just phantoms. I know them too well. Motorcycles. Not the Blackwood brand. I don’t hear the Sinclair recklessness marked by a sputtering engine.
This ain’t a good sign. I glance over at Darlene and the baby. If we’re under attack, I’ll definitely only have the option to save one of them.
Fuck…
I kiss the baby’s forehead and hurry to Oske’s bedroom, where I built a makeshift cradle to prepare for this occasion. I set the baby down, fucking terrified to leave her alone even for a second. But the bikes get louder and if I don’t get outside and handle this problem…
Who the fuck knows what’s going to happen.
Click here to order the book: https://amzn.to/496XQqw
Thanks again for reading! 💞
Here’s the link to the rest of the series: https://bit.ly/2024mcseries
Do you want to just get a text update when my new bwwm romance book releases? It’s free to sign up for the updates AND you get a free book. You can wait until January to buy the book.
Click here to get a text message when the book comes out.
What are your thoughts on this chapter? Leave a COMMENT to let me know what you think. Which is your favorite couple from the first three books? I want to hear from you, so anything you write will 100% be read by the author. Thank you!