HALLOWS MC

Still here? Good. Most people leave the second a man starts talking about a grave.

I won’t tell you much about her. What I know about that woman I earned four months at a time, and I’m not the sharing kind. I’ll give you this much: she answers every phone at every hour, for every drunk in every ditch in the county, and I’ve spent more nights than I’ll cop to parked in the dark listening to her voice come over a tow radio like some kind of addict. I know how that sounds, and I stopped minding a long time ago.

Her boyfriend saw the same thing in her that I did and ran uglier numbers on it. He held her doors, learned her coffee, good-morning-texted her nine weeks running, and had a buyer lined up the whole time, because to him she was freight. A number with a face. So I put a knife through his throat in a field and took my sweet fucking time about it, and if that’s the worst thing you think happens in this book, you have not met the men who priced her. My club will move a lot of things. People are not one of them. He knew that going in and took the job anyway.

She thinks she got dumped, and I’d like to keep it that way right up until she’s mine and it’s too late to run.

She’s going to fall for the worst man in the county and never once figure out he’s the reason she sleeps safe. You’ll be riding backpack the whole way, and unlike her, you’ll know exactly who you’re holding onto.

The first pages are on me. I insist.

So — will you stay?

I really think you should, babydoll.