Series: Straight to Hell MC Series by Sam Crescent
Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Bikers destroyed my family once. I swore I’d never trust another man wearing leather and a cut, no matter how kind he pretended to be. So why is the one man who gets under my skin the same one standing beside me every week at the women’s shelter, quietly proving that not all monsters look the way I expected? Reaper is everything I should hate—dangerous, ruthless, and loyal to the Straight to Hell MC above all else. But beneath the scars and deadly reputation is a man who protects women without question… and looks at me like I’m worth fighting for. Falling for him could cost me everything, but walking away might be impossible.
Reaper
I’ve spent my life making sure no woman suffers the way my mother did. My brothers know me as the club’s enforcer—the man who handles problems permanently—but Grace sees the part of me I keep buried. Too bad she hates everything I stand for. Her fire calls to the darkness inside me, and every glare she throws my way only makes me want her more. When trouble comes hunting, I’ll paint the streets red before I let anyone touch what’s mine. She can fight me, argue with me, even hate my patch… but I’ll protect her with my last breath. Because once a Straight to Hell biker claims his woman, there is no letting her go
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Grace had an early shift at the bubble tea store, but she wanted to volunteer at least an hour before work. Spending time at the women’s shelter and giving back was important to her. Essential. After losing her older sister years ago, she’d been on a mission to help other young women avoid the same fate.
She was washing her hands in the small powder room by the back entry door, when she heard crying. Grace quickly dried her hands and rushed to the front of the shelter. She stopped dead in her tracks.
There was a woman on her knees in the front hallway, holding a young girl around seven years old around the waist. A huge tattooed man stood over them. She knew right away he was a biker by the leather cut. Those animals were easy to spot regardless, especially for her. Her heart began to race as she scanned the area for staff members. She was no match for a man his size, but she’d put herself between him and the woman and child if she had to.
She saw Gena coming up the hall but she was much farther away than her, so she moved in close.
“Hey! Get away from her.”
The biker cocked an eyebrow but didn’t move.
“Step back. You realize I have a panic button. If I push it, the cops will be here in two minutes.”
“I just brought them in,” he said.
Yeah, of course he did. Beat up your girlfriend and kid, then dump them at a shelter? Real manly of him. Or maybe they’d escaped him and he followed them here trying to force them back. She’d seen it too many times to count. Why else would she be scared and crying?
She hated men. And bikers were the worst.
“You’re not welcome here,” she said.
As Gena neared them, her nerves eased slightly because the shelter manager would know how to deal with this.
“Oh, Reaper, thank you so much for dropping them off for me,” Gina said.
Grace was stunned, frozen in place as she attempted to process the scene. What the heck was happening?
“No problem,” he said, in that same too-deep voice. “I’ll be by tonight to check out the alarm system.”
“You’re a godsend.”
When she looked at the woman still sobbing into her hands, she noticed the little girl was tugging on the biker’s black jeans. It made her heart rate pick up. She didn’t trust bikers and never would. He looked down at her and smiled. It actually looked warm and sincere, which wasn’t possible.
“I have some stuffies in my saddlebag out front,” he told the girl. Then he turned to Gena. “Is it okay if she comes out to pick one?”
“Of course, I’ll start registering her mom, then Grace can finish the intake.”
“What?” Grace blurted out. “You’re letting her go outside alone with him?” She bit her tongue immediately after when they turned and stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. How could she be the only one who saw a major red flag here? Many red flags.
“It’s okay, Grace,” said Gena. “This is practically Reaper’s second home. He does a lot for us. You don’t have to worry about him.” Then she walked away with the mother to the office.
The mother was still hysterical, repeatedly muttering, “He’ll find me.”
Her heart went out to the woman. That’s why it was so important to keep the shelter a safe place, a refuge. When she turned back around, he was there.
Reaper had a sly smile on his face. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
The heat of humiliation raced up her collar and she knew her face must be beet-red. “I’m sorry. I was just looking out for them.”
“It was cute.”
Her mouth fell agape. He may not be the enemy this moment, but she still refused to trust a biker. They were criminals and murderers. If it weren’t for bikers, she’d still have her sister. And her parents’ marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart. And they’d still be alive. She learned how grief could kill a person.
The little girl reached for his hand and he actually took it as they walked up the hall together. She was made of questions. How had she never met him if Gena seemed so familiar with him? Grace usually volunteered three days a week at the shelter.
She decided she’d made herself look enough of a fool today, so she got to work. There were several boxes of donated food in the hallway, so she started loading them into the pantry, one can at a time. She took her time, frequently glancing at the front entryway to see if the little girl made it back in safely.
When she heard the door opening, she got more focused on her task, refusing to look away from the pantry shelves. It wasn’t sound that alerted her to his presence, more a feeling. She knew he was behind her, but refused to appear affected.