Crossing Lines (Roughshod Rollers MC 1)

Blurb

Three handsome men.

Three steamy HOT romances.

Life isn’t easy for either Grant, Ethan or Kyle.

Their club, “The Roughshod Rollers” is under threat,

And the only help they get from others is discrimination.

So they rely on each other and hope for the better,

But it isn’t that easy.

As they try to chase their own happiness, life gets more complicated…

Allison would never want to commit herself to a biker.

Jessica is already holding a kid in her arms.

And circumstances are stopping Georgia to be the mother to Lily.

Well, these men will use all the strength to walk forwards…

Even if it means fighting against the world to give themselves a complete family!

Liam

The powerful engine roars beneath me; the sound of it deafening my ears to any other sounds around me. I peer through the visor on my helmet, my gaze set with focus as I aim for my destination, ignoring the biting wind that stabs through me.

Finally, I turn onto a familiar street and I press my foot on the brake to slow down, paying no attention to the tiny domestic houses that I pass. I see a woman walking her dog on the path and she makes a face at the loud, obnoxious noise I am making before turning her head away, wanting nothing to do with me. I smirk and continue on; I have no regard for the thoughts of people like her, who would judge the moment they see my bike and the jacket I’m wearing.

I come to a stop as I reach a small overgrown yard. Distantly, I remind myself to bring up the fact that someone needs to mow the lawn every now and then. Then I remember that it may not be something we will have to worry about for much longer.

The house that sits behind the yard - weeds starting to weave up its walls - is very small and dilapidated. All over, I can see evidence of our attempts to keep it useable; several boards nailed over holes, a metal pole determinedly holding up the porch roof, tape over broken windows… I have many fond memories of doing the substandard work here with some friends and a few drinks.

I kill the engine on my bike and swing my leg over, stretching my arms over my head to soothe the kinks that have formed after so long hunched over the handlebars. Then I pull my helmet off my head, breathing in the crisp, morning air, and straighten my black jacket. I wonder if that woman would have given me such a look of disgust if I hadn’t been wearing it.

Not that it matters. This jacket is my pride and joy. There’s no way I’ll leave it behind because of a few dirty looks.

As I walk up the path toward the house, I note that there are tire marks leading toward the small garage attached to the house, though the door was closed. The tracks are recent and obvious in the ground that is still wet from the rain the night before. Someone else is here, then, and it seems they’ve been here for quite some time.

As such, I’m more cautious as I open the creaking front door. I get along with most of our club, to the point where I’m happy to have a few drinks with them on occasion. There are some, though, like Bruce King, the money-grabbing asshole that only joined them for glory, and Tom Green, the sadistic dickhead that would rather watch them struggle then help, that I would prefer not to run into.

“Liam?”

I turn at the sound of my name and feel relief when I recognize the broad form of Grant Johnson shouldering his way through a collapsing doorway, frowning at it on his way through. Grant is someone I can deal with; he’s as honorable as the day is long and always willing to lend an ear to someone in trouble.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I could ask you the same,” Grant points out. He sighs when I raise an eyebrow. “Thought I’d get a look at the old place. Fucking authorities are going to destroy it soon enough anyway.”

I scowl at the reminder.

The Roughshod Rollers, a motorcycle club that has been in existence for nearly seven years, now, have been using this old house for quite some time. It did, in fact, belong to one of our members, who sadly passed away in an accident three years ago. When he died, ownership of it passed to his only living relative, his aging mother. She kindly allowed us to keep using this house as our base, and we do our best to cause no trouble for the community around us in response.

Unfortunately, one month ago, she passed away of old age. With no one to pass the house onto, a local official by the name of Burke seized the opportunity when the land came under the local authority’s control, and began his crusade to have the building knocked down and the land used for a grocery shop. Naturally, the Roughshod Rollers rose in protest, but it is a battle we are swiftly losing.