Two Weeks of Sin

The question made her feel a bit guilty. She could remember the look of jealousy on Marco’s face all too clearly. “Yes. I had a wonderful time,” she didn’t need to give him all the dirty details. “But it’s about time I headed home and I was wondering if I could buy something for breakfast?”

“Of course you can,” he said, “what can I get you?”

“Maybe a muffin? I don’t know. What do you suggest? You’re the expert.”

He snorted. “Hardly,” he said as he reached into the cabinet and got a fruit tart, “this is something new I made. I’d be honored if you’d be the first to try it.”

She smiled and nodded, waiting patiently for him to hand her a slice of the tart. Instead he picked a piece up with a small fork and leaned over the case enough to feed her the bite. It was one of the most amazing things she’d ever eaten in her life. It was a bit sour at first but that quickly turned to sweetness as the crust all but melted on her tongue. She covered her mouth and nodded.

“That is what I want.”

He grinned brightly and bagged it up for her, handing it over the counter carefully so as not to tip it.

“Enjoy.”

“I always do,” she said with a smile, paying for the food.

She could feel his eyes on her as she left and she had to admit that she liked it. Going to Mystique was a far different experience than what she’d expected. She never thought she would feel desired in a place like that. She’d always assumed that brothels were where desperate people went when they were out of options.

As she turned the key in her ignition, she smiled and glanced back at the building silently thanking Toby and the rest for leaving her feeling confident rather than used. It was a change of pace and one she knew she could get used to.

She pulled out of the parking lot, leaving her old self behind.

Second Chances

Chapter One

Biker gangs. What comes to your mind when you hear ‘biker gangs’? I bet I can guess: Wild sex, drugs, guns, and violence, right? Well, maybe that’s how most people see it, but it’s a little different when you grow up around them.

My name is Kisha Monroe and I am a child of one of America’s largest biker gangs. Most people assume that biker gangs are out for trouble. Movie scenes of kidnappings and dangerous drug transactions flash before their eyes.

Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of them are filled with sick, demented bastards ready to screw, shot and pound on anything moving,

but some of us consist of a descent group of human beings, made to be tough by our environment.

My father was an amazing man. His name was Brian and he raised my brother and me to be strong leaders because he knew that one day we would take over the gang. Damien is my older brother, and since he was the oldest he took over leadership of the gang, but that didn’t mean I was sidelined and left to do nothing.

Ever since I was a little girl I’d been fascinated with the weapons my dad kept around the house. I started going to the shooting range when I was ten and had my first knife collection by the time I was thirteen. My dad never stopped me either. He thought my interest in the weapons was a useful skill to have and so he let me go about my business with little to no interruption.

Just because we were trying to do good for our community, didn’t mean we had no business being violent. Weapons and fighting were a necessity. Whoever said ‘violence is never the answer’ has obviously never dealt with a guy whose been beating his wife and kids every day for the past ten years, or a rival gang trying to take over their territory.

The world isn’t sunshine and butterflies and the sooner people figure that out, the better off they’re going to be. The thing people often ask us is “why didn’t you call the cops?” Well because sometimes the cops can’t do anything.

We have a silent agreement with the police in Nashville. We keep things quiet, don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, and we can take out the trash without any interference from them. We help the cops by dealing with the shit they don’t have time to deal with. It’s a pretty good system. They turn a blind eye to our activities and we clean up the town.

And of course shit hits the fan. I’ve had to learn to take a few major punches over the years. The worst being a blow that hit me before I even turned eighteen. My father was killed by a rival gang soon after my seventeenth birthday. My brother was twenty-one at the time and took over the gang seamlessly. He didn’t think twice about it because he didn’t have a choice. Gangs are a lot like the military. There’s a strict order to things and without someone in charge, everything tends to fall apart. So Damien became the leader.

What about me? Well, I was put in charge of all the training and weapons. I didn’t mind. Leading the gang never had any appeal to me. I was a fairly quiet person and I liked keeping to myself. Many of the men in the gang were terrified of my silence, and I was told a few times that I was intimidating. My steel eyes and jet black hair gave me an intense look and my petite stature was deceiving. I was quick on my feet and good with heavy artillery. I had been one of the snipers when Damien’s girlfriend (now wife) was kidnapped.

My intensity and silence led to a rather lonely life. People stayed clear of me and I didn’t really interact with too many folks outside the gang. Did I mention everyone in the gang seemed to be scared of me? There was only one man who seemed brave enough to interact with me. Ryan.

Ryan had been my best friend when we were kids. He was tall, blonde, and beautiful. His full lips and emerald eyes made me weak in the knees, though I would never admit it out loud. I always saw my attraction to Ryan as a weakness. He made me stumble on my words and drop my knives. I could have taken anyone in this damn gang, but Ryan got to me.

We stopped being friends around the time my dad died. It hurt that someone I was so close to would abandon me at such a critical point of my life; I felt betrayed. He started flirting with the other girls in the gang and didn’t say a word to me after my dad’s death. He would toss me the occasional sideways glance but it always seemed to be more wary than a look that acknowledged someone. I hated that look. I hated that he looked at me like I was a snake in the grass. It fucking pissed me off.

Despite the fact that everyone around me seemed to think I was a stone cold bitch who never wanted to be around anyone, I had the same desires as any other woman. I wanted a family and children, and I wanted to be in love. Even though I fought those emotions on occasion, I knew that at the end of the day, I wanted what every other woman in the world wanted.

When Damien met Chloe and they had their first baby, those desires became even stronger. I wanted what they had and watching them achieving their dreams was making my biological clock tick. Even though I was only twenty-one, I felt like my time was running out and I didn’t like that feeling.