Nero (Made Men #1)(97)
“Why? She was originally with them when they did those things to you.”
Elle took a deep breath. “The day I came back to school, after I was beaten, was the day Chloe returned back to school with her scars. I thought I looked bad, but Chloe… I could tell she was traumatized. I knew she went through something much worse than what I did. I heard them calling her ‘freak’, and I just lost it.”
Nero’s fingers continued the motion. “What happened to her?”
I can’t tell you. Elle didn’t say anything.
“She wasn’t in a car wreck, was she?” Nero tried again.
Elle could at least answer that for him. “No, she wasn’t.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Happily Ever After
Elle and Nero had returned to school for the last week, and it was the best week of her life. Nero made her quit the diner and put in an application to the local University for her. He assured her that, even though it was late, there was no way they wouldn’t accept her with her 4.0 GPA. He also told her if it took more than two days to do so, he would make a trip down to the admission office. She was now one day away from graduating, and Nero had somehow managed to talk her and Chloe into walking across the stage to take their diplomas.
Elle pinched herself every day, wondering if it was all real. Her last first day of school had ended up being the worst day of her life. Or so I thought. She now realized it had turned out to be the best day in her existence because, if she had never witnessed the murder, then Nero would have never been forced to talk to her in the first place. I would have never gotten my happily ever after.
Brring.
For the first time ever, that was music to her ears. I am free. Free at last.
Nero and Elle smiled at each other as everyone ran out of the art room, screaming. Nero stood and took Elle’s hand, helping her stand up.
“Where are we going?” Elle laughed as he started dragging her.
Nero led her towards the back of the room and opened the art supply closet before pushing her in. “It’s the last time I’ll get this chance, and I have been fantasizing about this ever since I brought you in here the first time.”
Elle tried to stop Nero from closing the door. “Nero, we can’t—”
Nero shoved her back against the door and planted his mouth on hers. She lost all sense as Nero thrust his tongue deep in her mouth. She opened wider for him and rose to her toes.
Nero began unbuttoning her red and white plaid shirt. He pulled it down her shoulders, making it drop to the floor. His eyes then fell down her body to her pink, lacey, push-up bra and blue jean shorts.
Elle’s chest began to rise and fall heavily as she looked up at her hungry wolf’s emerald gaze. I fucking love him.
Nero’s gaze returned to her big, blue eyes. “Pick it up.”
Enjoy an excerpt from Jamie Begley’s book
Razer’s Ride (The Last Riders, #1)
Chapter One
Beth pulled her little car into the vacant slot in front of the Buy-Low Market. Grabbing her list and oversized purse, she glanced at her watch, calculating that she had an hour to finish shopping for Mrs. Langley. The frail old woman had hired Beth to do what tasks she was not able to do for herself any longer. She was one of many clients that Beth had accumulated over the last five years. She had even hired a college student part-time to do the chores she was not physically capable of completing. Cleaning out garages, heavy lifting, and lawn work were often requests that she once would have had to turn down. Since she had been able to hire Blake, those jobs were contracted out to him while still being able make a small profit for herself.
It didn’t take long for Beth to complete the list. Frowning at the sparse list of groceries, she worried about Mrs. Langley’s decreasing appetite; she knew it wasn’t her finances that were responsible for the small list. Beth handled most of her finances, having earned an accounting degree in college; the extra task of balancing Mrs. Langley’s checkbook took little of her time. It had actually made her feel better about using the neglected skills that her monthly student loan payment reminded her she had worked hard to earn.
When she had graduated, she had literally stumbled into her business when her next-door neighbor became ill. Beth had volunteered to run errands for her until she recovered. From there, word of mouth had created a clientele that had provided a steady income, but left little free time. Her clients had started calling and asking for minor tasks to be completed that they were more than able to perform for themselves, often to fill the loneliness of their lives. Beth thought it was sad that they called her instead of their children, who often lived near, yet were unwilling to stop what they were doing to see to the parents who had raised them. Mailing her a check when she billed them provided a salve to their conscious.
Beth was putting the groceries into the trunk of her car when the sound of loud motors filled the late afternoon air. Tensing, she looked over her shoulder and saw the large group of motorcycles pulling into the parking lot. The tiny town of Treepoint had a motorcycle club that had taken over the peaceful town three years ago. Slamming her trunk lid down, Beth quickly opened her car door and got in, closing and locking the door. As she put her keys in the ignition, she watched as the bikers parked closely together.
The Last Riders were a motorcycle club whose actual home location was unknown to the majority of the townspeople. Many believed it to be nestled in the mountains on the border between Kentucky and Virginia. When they got in trouble, as they often did, the two bordering police departments often foisted the crimes onto the others precinct; therefore none of the crimes they were believed to have committed were ever prosecuted. They were growing larger and stronger in force with both bordering communities becoming frightened of the intimidating strangers that lived and played hard. Fortunately, they stayed to themselves and what trouble they got into stayed within their own cloistered group as well as the unlucky bars they picked for the night. The aftereffects would often leave the bar closed days for repairs. Usually one of the members would show up the next day with a wad of cash for the owner plus extra to silence them. It had become a regular source of income for the small business owners.