Claiming Crusher (Savage Brothers MC #4)(91)

I close the door and take a deep breath. Dr. Torres is already being handed charts. I’m officially off duty. Hallelujah!

For an extra Treat for you readers I have a sample of three of my favorite authors!


Sapphire Knight treats us with: Exposed

Honey Palomino tantalizes us with: Remember Me

Kathryn Kelly teases us with: Misled





Exposed




By: Sapphire Knight





Chapter 1


Cain


6 Months Ago…

Fuck, I’m hung-over. I have to quit doing this to myself. The shower helped a little. Now for a shot of Jack and some aspirin, that’ll make this f*cking pounding chill out. I make my way out of my room and down the hall to the bar area. I look around and take in the bar of the clubhouse. Man this place is trashed. There are empty beer bottles and full ashtrays layed all over every surface. The shiny bar is the only clean piece of furniture in the room. It calls to me like a becon. I walk towards it and kick trash and looks like a few pair of panties out of the way.

“Yo Cain, you beat that * up last night man?” I look over and see 2 Piece sitting in the corner of the room in a booth.

“Damn man I didn’t see you. Yea, I hit that shit then sent her ass packin. Why? You hit it after me?” I grab a glass and a lemon from the bar and make my way over to him. He’s already got a bottle of Jack in front of him. Guess he had the same idea.

“Fuck no, man, I had that crazy red head stripper that was grindin on my shit all night. Not bad * either.” He says and takes a big gulp of Jack. I sit down across from him and pour me a double. Just enough for me to chase this shit outta my head but not make me wanna puke.

“You chasing the beast too brother? My f*ckin head is killin me today.” I take a drink and suck on my lemon.

“Yep. You a nasty f*cker eatin that shit after a nice sip of whiskey.” He looks at my lemon with distaste and I chuckle a little. They don’t believe me when I always tell them that lemon has Vitamin C and helps you bounce back quicker. They all give me shit for it, but whatever, I’m always feeling better quicker than they do. I finish my whiskey and stand up. I stretch my muscles out. Shit I’m sore all over.

“I’m out man, I’ll be back later.” I chin nod at 2 Piece and walk towards the door.

“Later brother, don’t forget you fight tonight.” Fuck. I did forget.

“Yea, I’ll be ready.”

“You better be f*cker, if I lose my money bettin on your ass, Imma kick it after you’re done.”

“Haha your ass should be payin me for winnin you that mother f*ckin money!” I salute and make my way out. 2 Piece is cool as f*ck, he’s one of the first brothers I got close to when I started to come around the club. I open the door and the heat hits me like a punch to the gut. Hotter than a nice piece of ass today. I make my way to my girl.

“Hey pretty girl, you ready to go for a ride?” The guys give me shit for talking to my bike, but I’ve heard a few of them talk to theirs too. They just like giving me shit since I’m one of the youngest in the club. I’ve fought my ass off this year for my bike. She’s a 2014 Harley Davidson Custom Iron 883 with Hard Candy custom paint black and all black trim. My custom bike isn’t really made for long rides but I can always use my old bike if I need too. I take my small shammy towel out and lightly dust her off. I climb on and kick my kickstand up and start her up. The rumble vibrates through my muscles and it’s a feeling of comfort like a nice home cooked meal. Yea, like I’ve had one of those recently. Speaking of food, I need to get my ass to H.E.B. before all the church freaks show up. I check my watch, 11:30. I may just make it before they swarm the grocery store.

I pull into the H.E.B. parking lot and thankfully they don’t look busy yet. Sundays after 12p.m. everyone seems to leave church and come straight here, it’s like a ritual of something. Then I have to deal with their judging eyes. The holier than thou seem to think I’m a menace because of my tattooed covered arms, hands, and neck. I always wear clean clothes but it doesn’t matter when I have my cut on. I’m automatically a hellion. I may be a brawler, in a motorcycle club, enjoy partying and ride a bike, but I’ve known some way worse people then myself. If any of you f*cks had half a clue what bad really is, I’d look like a f*ckin Saint.

The air conditioning hits me and it’s like a drink of cool, refreshing water. Christ it’s a hot Texas day today. I’m thinking that run up north might be a good idea right now after all. I only go on long runs when they need my strength. I usually help the Club Enforcer with his duties. It’s relaxing to weed out the f*cks that need persuaded, found, killed, etc… I never said I am a good guy just that I have met worse.

I hate shopping. This is why the brothers have their regular f*cks go to the store for them. I’m too picky for that shit. I like what I like and don’t need some piece of ass getting whatever she feels like. Men’s body wash—Old spice sport, Toothpaste—Aqua fresh, Mouthwash—Colgate spearmint, Garnier hair goop for my fauxhawk. Bitches don’t know that shit, and I don’t want any of ’em to either. I better pick up some grub and Gatorade while I’m here too. Granola bars, Nutra Grain bars, Honey Buns, red Gatorade and some chicken strips for my lunch-check.

I make my way up towards the check-out aisles. I’m passing by the orange juice when I see the sexiest ass on a woman I think I’ve ever seen. I start to check out the rest of the package. Bitch is bangin’ long straight black hair down her back, tattoos all over, hourglass figure. Baby has some thighs I could seriously see wrapped around my face. She’s got the curves you grab onto from behind while you slam into her. She’s tall but still short to my 6’1” self. Please have a good face, please have a good face, please.