Dark Biker Romance Books | Biker's Ritual | Book #3 Rebel Barbarians Motorcycle Club Romance
Are we ready for Gideon, the unhinged ex-Army Ranger, to finally have his own story? Gideon had some raw and terrifying moments in Book #2 that really made me question the sanity in giving this problematic, twisted character his own story. However, he is one of my few blond and sexy male leads, dripping with that hot, muscled up biker aesthetic. Yummy.
If you made it to the end of Book #1, Biker’s Surrogate and THEN all the way through Book #2, you are a real champion and definitely deserve the hell out of the free chapter I’m dropping today.
Our female lead is much older than Juliette and more than capable of handling herself in situations. Her connection to Reaper will make you wonder how the hell they get to the end of the book without slitting each others’ throats.
This book is extremely dark and steamy. I know you will enjoy it once the book drops. The official release date is June 25th and every pre-order absolutely helps me out as an indie author.
Chapter One
Reaper
The Morning After The Crime
I stay up all night waiting for judgment but it never comes. My legs cross on the Apache blanket as I watch the darkness fall over the desert, but my body refuses to feel the cold, even as I see my breath coming out of my mouth in disturbed, cloudy puffs.
I can still breathe.
The darkness begins to shift from that impossibly blue-black to a soft, morning-gray. I haven’t moved in hours and I can’t get the disturbing pictures out of my head.
I watched the blood burst from the woman’s chest and from her mouth as she fell backwards against her boyfriend, who gladly let her take a bullet for him. Mom told me the folks out here were abominations and that Satan would bring his scourge for them.
Am I the scourge of Satan?
Hunter gave me his last pack of American Spirits before he fled south with the Shaws and the Hollingsworths. Ruger, dad, and myself are the only ones still out here in the early morning hours.
The twins burned the bodies last night in the desert beneath rock formations that tourists would destroy if they ever learned about them. Utah is one of the country’s prettiest states. Too bad I’ll never come back here.
I burn through all the cigarettes and I still can’t push the image out of my mind. I can hear dad and Ruger talking about what to do to me. Like I’m fragile.
“He killed three men in Libya,” dad says. “He handled it just fine. He’ll come out of this.”
Ruger is one of those men so committed to being a country boy that his exaggerated drawl gives his voice a different accent from the rest of us.
“Uncle Lyle,” he says softly. “He ain’t ever killed a woman before.”
“Shut up and get him some liquor. We have to move him.”
Dad puts his hand on my back.
“Get up. We’re going home.”
“I can’t go back to Salt Lake.”
“I meant our home,” he says. The new place.
We lived all over when we were kids but the only place that ever felt like home to me was Arizona. Running guns out of Salt Lake City for dad didn’t bother me, but I couldn’t never get too comfortable in a city where half the women I met wanted to drag me to church or get me to quit smoking and drinking.
Eventually, dad gets me off the ground and folds up the Apache blanket for me. Out of all his sons, I look the least like Lyle Blackwood. He has round features and a large, bulky body. I’ve always been lean with high cheekbones, pale skin and eyes like the Arctic. I suppose I have mom’s features, except for my hair. Dad’s hair went white long ago but when he was my age, it was the same pale shade of blonde.
“Come on, Gideon,” he says. “You can’t sit here and rot.”
Rot. Like the woman I shot. My father helps me to my feet. Ruger gets too close to me. I love my cousin, but liking him has always been something I had to force upon myself. He puts his hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me that I’m certain will fail before he even opens his mouth.
“It doesn’t really matter, Gideon,” Ruger says. “She was just a nigger.”
I glare at him. Only an idiot like Ruger could think that would make me feel better. Doesn’t matter what that woman was. I told her to stay out of the way. I tried to give her a chance… My jaw tightens and I take out my anger on the only person I can.
“Shut the hell up, Ruger.”
Before I escalate the situation, dad steps between us putting one hand on my shoulder and another on Ruger’s back.
“He’s only trying to make you feel better,” dad says. “We’d better head home. Ruth has been calling, wondering where we are.”
My youngest sister Ruth has been going through hell since mom went to prison. Dad wasn’t meant to be a single parent and the only help he has right now is my aunt, who helps herself to his wallet and the contents of his fridge more than she does anything for Ruth. If it’s not about getting the girl into church or criticizing her for immodest clothing, our aunt does nothing for her.
“Did you tell her we were in Utah?” I ask, although the question is stupid and only escapes from my lips as something to fill the space. I would have said anything to avoid letting my mind wander to the images that refuse to disappear.
“I didn’t,” he says. “Now stop fussing and come on. You’re fine. Everything is going to be okay.”
I should have known dad was just saying that to make me feel better and calm me down. Everyone thinks I’m crazy as fuck because of what happened that made me leave the Army — general discharge. Lost my benefits because of what happened. But like dad said to Ruger. I did my therapy. I left that fucked up part of my past behind me.
I turn my bike down Ironwood Drive first and before we get to the large wrought iron gates at the end of the cul-de-sac, I can tell dad has other plans for me today aside from allowing me to rest from our four hour ride from the middle of the Utah desert to Sedona, Arizona.
My twin brothers leave my spot empty, but Jairus and Jotham clearly got here first. My aunt’s grey Volkswagen Jetta blocks our neighbor’s driveway and there are a couple more bikes belonging to other family members who are part of the club.
Shit…
Aunt Katie expects us, so she leaves the front door unlocked. I walk inside the house and I hear my little sister scream.
“GIDDY!!!!”
She’s the only one I still let call me that. I hear her clomping down the hallway like a horse, then I hear my aunt yelling her name but it’s too late to stop her. Ruth comes whirling around the hallway like she’s racing and smacks into me at full force. She squeals as her arms wrap around me and jumps up and down as she squeezes the air from my lungs.
Her warmth and her excitement do nothing to move me at first. I can’t even hug her back. I feel like hugging my little sister will contaminate her with my crimes and immorality. But her excitement to see me is so goddamn infectious.
“Gideon! Gideon! Gideon! You’re home!”
Her jumping up and down and skinny little arms around me gets me to hug her back. Dad walks in the door and Ruth pulls away from me, running to give dad a hug. She has always been his favorite. Ruger grunts as he walks inside and heads straight for the kitchen to talk to his mom on the phone. She’s in prison with my mom for an entirely different crime. And she’s been in prison much longer.
They have a tense relationship since she spent most of Ruger’s life in prison and their reunion doesn’t take long to descend into arguing once they’re in the same room. Dad sends Ruth upstairs with a stern voice after a brief greeting and then with a stern tone, he commands us all to the basement.
Most of the family was already waiting for us there, so dad must have arranged this family meeting seconds after I pulled the trigger. Blackwood club members as far as ten hours away are sitting in the basement. They must have driven all night to get here. Dad shuts the door to the basement once we’re all down there and walks to the center of the room.
“Good morning everyone,” he says. “Something happened last night and we need to take care of it. Make sure it never comes back. Never.”
He doesn’t fill anyone in on the details, just what needs to be done. Vehicles and clothes burned. Alibis established.
At the end of it all, we promise to take the secret to our graves and pray together as a family for my freedom and my soul. When our family meeting ends, Harlan Shaw calls dad with bad news.
They arrested Ryder Sinclair on the highway with the murder weapon and he’s going to prison on a weapons charge.
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