At the very bottom of the box was a magazine full of busty blondes. Only blondes, apparently. My cousin definitely had a type. And from the last letter I got from his mother, it sounded like he’d finally met his match.

A pretty little waitress named Sally had caught his eye and was giving him a run for his money. I couldn’t imagine any woman making Donahue work for it, but apparently, she was. I was sorry I wasn’t there to watch the guy chasing his own tail to get her attention.

Donahue was a chick magnet, and that was even before he joined the upper ranks of the biggest motorcycle club in Southern California.

My cousin had a silver tongue, muscles, height, tats, dark hair, blue eyes, and Irish good looks. And that didn’t even get into his talent at metalsmithing and creating outrageous custom bikes. Women literally lined up to give him a little fun, no questions asked.

But apparently, he was chasing a shy little waitress all around.

I couldn’t wait to give him the business about it when I got home.

I wasn’t much for talking shit, but when it came to Donnie, I would happily talk smack until the cows came home. He was the one who had taught me to do it when I was a shy little fifteen-year-old with nowhere to go and no hope of being wanted.

But they had wanted me. Despite everything they’d been through, and it was more than their fair share, their branch of the Donahues had wanted me.

I tossed the blondes to the crowd and smiled at what was underneath. He’d sent me something else too. Something way better than a skin mag.

A fresh sketch pad and a Ziploc baggie full of guitar picks and carpenter pencils, my favorite kind.

The cookies were nearly gone, but I managed to snag one more as my buddies started another game of poker using the spoils from other care packages that had just come in. I wasn’t playing today.

I leaned back on the bed and started to sketch.

Chapter 1

Mac

“Ginger ale,” I said as I slid the frosty mug across the bar. Jack grunted his thanks and took a sip. The man loved his ginger ale.

My cousin Donnie rarely worked the bar anymore, but he still showed up some nights wanting to serve drinks. He said it kept him sharp. He never stayed late though.

Not with a three year old, a baby, and a beautiful wife at home. A very beautiful, very talented, very sweet wife who never nagged him. He just couldn’t wait to be with her. It was hilarious, and we all gave him shit for it, but he didn’t mind.

Donnie was too damn happy to care.

But he was a Devil’s Rider, and everyone was at the club tonight, so he was there too. The guys with wives would leave before things got nuts, but for now, all of them were there.

Devlin was making the rounds and talking to the guys. Callaway was working in the designated club-only tattoo parlor next door and kept running into the bar for shots of tequila. Thankfully, he was so talented it didn’t matter if he got a little lit. Whiskey was sitting with Jack and talking about woodwork and carpentry. Lucky was arm wresting Drake at a table nearby, and I was there. But I was usually at the clubhouse most nights.

I wasn’t much for staring at the TV. I’d rather be around my brothers, even if the inner circle wasn’t here late-night. God knows what else I would be doing. Staring at the ceiling, most likely.

Donnie poured me a shot and toasted me.

“I have to be up at five,” I said to my crazy ass cousin.

“Man up! You could do that job in your sleep.”

I snorted and took the shot. Just one, though. It was true I could do most jobs in my sleep, but this was the biggest project I’d ever taken lead on. Overseeing the construction, permits, and crew for a new housing development was a big deal, and I wanted to be at my best.

Not for the clients, who were a bunch of suits I’d barely talked to, but I had to be on top of my shit for the people who would live there someday, the families and kids, but especially for my crew. A good foreman could make or break the daily grind for the workers, and I wanted it to go smooth and easy. A couple of guys I’d served with were coming aboard, along with a couple of guys from the club. Then there was my normal crew and every damn guy who knew how to use a hammer in a fifty-mile radius.

Like I said, it was a big fucking job.

I watched Cal come into the bar, deftly sidestepping one of the more determined ‘sweetbutts’ who tried to waylay him. He was the prettiest guy in the damn club, except maybe for Devlin. Power, muscles and pretty-boy good looks were apparently catnip to a certain kind of woman.

Tags: Joanna Blake Devil's Riders Erotic
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