Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
But when his parole officer blocks him from visiting the psychiatric hospital where his mother’s locked away, he’s ready to break all the rules again—until a club brother offers a solution. Get married. Let his wife do the visiting.
When a blue-haired newcomer in town overhears the plan and offers herself up as the bride, Rook can’t help but think it is worth a shot.
It's supposed to be temporary. Just paperwork. It isn't long, though, before all the pretending starts to feel unexpectedly real.
What he doesn’t know is Tessa has secrets of her own—ones with bruises and leather cuts—and a fake marriage to a man like Rook might be her only shot at staying safe.
But nothing stays fake—or hidden—for long. Especially when the past comes roaring in with a vengeance, threatening to destroy everything they’ve built
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Rook
“Where you been?” Raff asked as I walked in the door of The Bog.
It was busier than usual for a Tuesday night. But the past few months had been bogged down with developers, land use town meetings, and crews of out-of-state professionals who walked around in their hard hats and reflective vests, squinting and pointing at the open landscape. While the men they were working for had dollar signs in their eyes.
What they saw in a little prison town on the border of the Death Valley mountains was beyond all of us.
Shady Valley had been a manufacturing town once upon a time. Then the plant closed, the town collapsed, and most of the locals moved out.
The construction of the prison had brought some life and jobs back to the area. There was a small suburb now and two relatively full apartment buildings. But, in general, the only people who wanted to live near a prison were those who either worked there or were married to someone who worked there.
This led us to conclude that the town meetings were likely about building more industrial buildings, not housing development.
But all the out of towners lingering around meant that all our local joints were more bustling than usual. And Shady Valley had exactly three establishments to hang out in—a diner, a pool hall, and the bar.
“I was coming out the door, and fucking Nancy was on her way up the stairs.”
“She just did a search three days ago,” Colter said, turning his empty beer bottle in a circle on the top of the bar.
“Yeah, she says that she catches guys more this way,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I’m constantly thankful I got Mick instead of Nancy,” Colter said, shaking his head.
Of course he would be. Mick Ellers was four times divorced with four kids and struggling to pay alimony, child support, and college tuition on his parole officer salary. As such, the man was more than happy to take a handful of cash to mind his own damn business when it came to his parolees.
Nancy, a woman with a vendetta and no personal life, seemed to love nothing more than fucking with hers. Me included. Hell, sometimes it felt like it was me most of all, that I was just her pet project.
I almost hoped that was the case. Because if she gave all of her parolees the same attention she gave me, the woman must never have time to sleep, let alone have a hobby, family, friends, or community connections.
“Must be nice,” I mumbled, already deep in my own well of self-pity.
“Lemme guess,” Raff said, leaning forward to be seen past Colter’s hulking frame as I sat down at the bar. “She said she still won’t let you go see your mom.”
“I haven’t ‘proven myself trustworthy’ yet.”
“She’s never caught you doing anything wrong,” Colter said.
“She ‘has a bad feeling’ about me.”
“To be fair, you are part of an arms-dealing biker club and are hacking all the time at the martial arts studio,” Raff said.
“Yeah, but she’s found no proof of that, so she’s just being a pain in the ass,” Colter said, shrugging. “I guess on the positive side, you will get off parole eventually.”
That was true.
But it didn’t exactly help the situation.
I didn’t give a shit about the house searches or housing restrictions and whatever else Nancy wanted to put me through. All I wanted was for her to approve my request to go visit my mom at the psychiatric hospital she’d been in since I’d been locked up.
I had no idea how she was doing, if she knew I was out, if she thought I’d fucking abandoned her in her time of need.
I’d even had the hospital write Nancy a letter saying that my presence might actually help my mother improve.
Nancy denied it.
Which was how you knew that she was doing what she did out of revenge because some guy on probation once beat up her husband, not because it was better for the greater good or whatever else she might want to believe.
“Sounds like you need a drink,” Raff said, pushing a beer toward me.
Normally, I had to be careful with alcohol. Even though my previous conviction had nothing at all to do with alcohol or drugs, Nancy Bird had taken it upon herself to forbid drinking during my parole.
But I’d watched her drive out of town twenty minutes before. And given how flat this part of the state was, I could see her for many miles off.
She wasn’t coming back.
I could have a drink or two, maybe even spend the night at the clubhouse. Preferably with a woman who would make me forget all about my parole officer.
“Why aren’t we all back at the clubhouse right now?” I asked.
It was late enough in the evening that the guys should have been able to find some women to bring home and party with.