Ranger – Heartlands Motorcycle Club Read online Frankie Love

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:
Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Ranger - Heartlands Motorcycle Club

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Frankie Love

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B084R6LDC6
Book Information:

When I find Ruby stranded, abandoned, and terrified, I know this innocent woman belongs with me.
I spent years in the trenches but now I'm home, in the Heartlands, and I'm ready to put down roots with this girl I never knew I needed.
Even though Ruby's a preacher's daughter, she's lost her faith in love.
When my worst fear comes to pass -- it's my duty to prove to her that true love conquers all.
I will find her, whatever the cost.
She may be lost, but by God, she will be found.
****The alpha males of Heartlands Motorcycle Club are the most possessive, devoted, and territorial men in the country when it comes to the ones they love.
Books by Author:

Frankie Love



1

Ranger

The sun is just beginning to set, purples and pinks cross the sky like a painting. As I ride down the highway, I can’t help but thank God for this sense of freedom. A freedom I fought for as an Army Ranger.

Now I’m home, back in the heart of America, living the goddamn dream — the Road Captain for Heartlands Motorcycle Club, working on bikes down at the garage by day and running Ride or Die — our bar — by night. Always thanking my lucky stars that I made it out of the war zone alive.

Sure, my heart was pretty fucking bruised after seeing what I saw, but nothing was broken. Nothing shattered. Here I am, in one piece. Can’t say as much for some of the Rangers I stood with.

It makes my commitment to this brotherhood all the stronger. All the more real. I know what it means to make a sacrifice — I’ve seen it. And I am committed to doing what it takes to protect the ones I love.

I grip the handlebars, accelerating as I ride down the open stretch of highway, wheat fields to my left and right. I pass the Johnsons’ big red barn and pickup trucks zoom past loaded with bales of hay.

As I wind my way toward my exit, I see a shitty two-door car with the hood up, smoke everywhere, on the side of the road. A woman is pacing, hands wrapped around her curvy waist.

Pulling over, I get off my Electra Glide and run a hand over my beard. It’s the middle of summer, but as the wind sweeps over the fields around us, I look up to the sky — a storm is brewing. Turning that pink and purple sunset into a witch’s cauldron.

“You okay, ma’am?” I say, her back toward me. What I see though is curves covered in a simple pale blue sundress, long wavy blonde hair down her back, sandals on her feet, and a petite frame that makes my cock twitch.

She turns, eyes brimming with tears, and she looks like an angel standing there on the side of the road, lit up by the sunset, illuminated as the clouds begin to roll in. I step toward her, knowing she is in need of something, desperate for it. I feel that from her even though I’m a few feet away.

She looks me over, and I see fear burning in her eyes. I understand. I know that my presence makes some people uneasy. I’m tall, with broad shoulders and muscles pulling at the seams of my white tee shirt. I’m a good foot taller than her, with a thick beard and tattoos running over my veins telling stories a sweet thing like her might not want to hear.

Still, I move closer. This car is smoking real bad and she needs to get out of the way. “What happened here?” I ask.

“It started smoking, shaking, but I thought the car was drivable. It had been sitting out in the yard for months but… I think it’s busted and…”

“Shit,” I say, noticing the oil dripping from a cracked block and gas spouting from a busted fuel line. The damn thing must have shaken itself half to death. This thing is about to blow. I grab her, knowing it might seem rough, but my heart pounds as the engine roars with a last-ditch effort. The exhaust pipe fumes and pistons are fighting for life.

I pull her to the ground by my bike, covering her with my body as a massive burst of fire overtakes the tiny car.

“Oh my!” she cries, eyes blazing with fear. She trembles under me, and I move, lifting her body from the ground, making sure we are out of harm’s way. “My life was in that car,” she says, shaking as I pull her to my chest, scared she might do something stupid — run back for something that can’t be saved.

“You’ll be okay,” I tell her. “You’re safe — that’s what matters.”

She shakes her head, looking up at me. “No, I’m not,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I was running away.”

I search her face, wanting to understand, but the storm clouds break, and rain begins to fall. I need to get home — the worse the storm gets, the dumber it will be to be out in it on my bike. “We gotta make a break for it.”

She swallows, looking back at the car, then up at me. “I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” I ask as lightning slices the black sky.

I don’t wait for a response. Taking her by the hand, I lead her to my bike. Grabbing my helmet, I buckle it under her chin. She doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t resist, either. There’s nothing but a barn two miles away, and beyond that, nothing but wheat fields and highway. I was out scouting routes for a possible club run.

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