ONE MORE RIDE Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  ONE MORE RIDE: Carnage Warriors MC copyright 2017 by Sophia Gray. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

  ***

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  Contents

  One More Ride: Carnage Warriors MC

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  ONE MORE NIGHT: Jungle’s Thorns MC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  ONE MORE TASTE: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Also by Sophia Gray

  ONE MORE NIGHT: Jungle’s Thorns MC

  ONE MORE TASTE: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  SUBMISSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (The Marauders MC)

  DADDY’S ANGEL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Crowns of Satan MC)

  DADDY’S PRINCESS: The Horsemen MC

  FILLED: Berserkers MC

  BOUNTY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Giustini Family Mafia)

  Prize: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

  MINE: Fury Riders MC

  SINS: Devil’s Horns MC

  OBEY: A Dark Romance

  DENY: A Dark Romance

  HEAT: A Dark Romance

  One More Ride: Carnage Warriors MC

  By Sophia Gray

  I’M GONNA TAKE THIS LITTLE PRINCESS ON THE RIDE OF HER LIFE.

  I’m a convict. She’s a prison guard.

  This was never supposed to happen.

  But I saw what I wanted and I took it…

  And now the world is about to make me pay for daring to break the rules.

  I took her the first time because I needed to remind myself how good it feels to have skin on skin.

  Lips on lips.

  Breath comingling with breath.

  It was what I needed.

  But her moans that night were enough to awaken a beast inside me.

  And when some drunk idiot says the wrong thing in my vicinity, that beast snaps.

  The punishment I inflict on that bastard is enough to land me in jail.

  But in that moment – with my bloodied fists, my unleashed rage – I felt alive for the first time in forever.

  Still, prison is no cakewalk.

  I’ll need all my wits – and all my luck – if I’m gonna make it out of here relatively intact.

  There’s killers lurking in the shadows.

  And not everyone is thrilled to have a burly, tattooed biker like me in there.

  Messing things up.

  Disrupting the delicate balance of power.

  Some people have decided they might be better off if I weren’t around anymore…

  And they’re not shy about getting their hands dirty.

  Luckily enough, though, I’ve got a trump card.

  I’m bringing Beth inside with me.

  Chapter 1

  Hank

  The rainy, chilly night of December 18th was when the trouble started for Hank “The Hammer” Hall.

  Of course, there were plenty of people who'd claim that the trouble had really started on the same date one year earlier when his wife and ten-month-old son were killed in a brutal car wreck with a drunk driver. And there were even some who'd swear the trouble actually began the year before that, when Hank—an enforcer for the Carnage Warriors motorcycle club—somehow allowed himself to believe that he deserved the happiness of marriage and a family, without karma swooping down and cackling and shitting all over it.

  But no. Later on, Hank would be able to insist with absolute certainty that it was this particular evening in December when everything began to go horribly wrong.

  That night, Hank's MC accounted for almost half the patrons in The Jingle Jangle Tavern in Matador, Texas. The town was their base of operations, and even though the Warriors had initially established themselves as purveyors of weed and meth, they were celebrating a new business venture that had greatly increased their income—selling fake IDs, Social Security cards, birth certificates, and other identification papers. The clientele for this service varied from high school kids who wanted to buy booze to immigrants who'd crossed over from Mexico, and even desperate fugitives.

  Bib Statler, the president of the MC, was standing at the bar, grandly ordering rounds of drinks for his men and slapping them on the back. His niece Beth Callaghan stood at his side as she often did when she got off work. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by Bib's massive body as she laughed and traded dirty jokes with the bikers.

  But Hank was sitting alone at the back of the tavern, chasing shots of whiskey with beer and staring down at the tabletop morosely. The sounds of happiness and triumph were drowned out by the grief that clanged in his ears, ugly and insistent, like a fire alarm.

  A year since they'd died. Did it feel like more time had passed? Less? Both?

  When he closed his eyes, he could still see the tiny crinkles at the edges of Elena's gray eyes, and the way her curly blonde hair would gently bounce back and forth as she shook her head and laughed at him. He could still hear her soft, mellow voice as she cooed and played with Jason, their infant son
. He could still taste her breath on his lips, sweet and warm, like a summer wind.

  The rain pattered relentlessly on the roof of the bar, intruding on his memories. It had been raining the night she died, too. How long had she clung to life as the raindrops fell on the pavement around her? How long had she waited for the ambulance, holding Jason's broken little body and watching her blood mingle with the puddles in the road? The cops and paramedics who came to give Hank the news had said that they both died instantly and without pain.

  Hank wanted to believe that. But he couldn't.

  He opened his eyes again, and for a split-second, he thought he was still seeing an afterimage of Elena. It caught him off guard before he realized he was looking at Beth instead.

  And she was looking at him.

  Since Beth was related to Bib and he was fiercely protective of her, all the men in the club made a point of treating her like she was “just one of the guys.” No one dared to look at her or talk about her in any sexual context, and this had always applied to Hank too, since long before he'd met and married Elena.

  But the way Beth was looking at him now, it was hard not to notice how beautiful and sexy she was. He could see the short nubs of her nipples under her tight t-shirt, and her cutoff jeans revealed her long, tan, toned legs. Her thick, wavy hair was the same shade of blonde that Elena's had been. Her eyes were blue instead of gray, but their shape was still similar to Elena's eyes. She even bit her lower lip in the same hesitant, sensual way, like a little girl who knew she was about to do something bad but couldn't help herself.

  And she was staring at Hank as though he was the “something bad” she was about to do. There was seduction in those eyes—but there was tenderness, too, and compassion.

  He shot a glance at Bib, but the president was leaning over the bar to flirt with the barmaid and order another round. In fact, it seemed like he was making a concerted effort to look in every direction but Hank's.

  Hank looked away and shook his head, trying to clear it. He told himself that this was silly. He was overcome with grief, he'd lost count of how many shots he'd swallowed, and if his brain was telling him that Beth reminded him of Elena and that she was giving him the eye now, well, it just meant he was so drunk he was seeing things that weren't there. He decided to have one more drink, get up, go home, and pass out before he did something he'd regret.

  But when he looked in her direction again, he saw that she was walking toward him, holding a fresh bottle and two more beers.

  “May I join you?” she asked.

  Chapter 2

  Beth

  Beth adopted a ridiculous French accent as she recited the punchline. “'Oh, monsieur,' the guide says to him, 'you dare not miss! For if you do...ze moose will fuck my brother Georges!'”

  The bikers around her burst out into loud guffaws. Even Bib chuckled heartily, despite the fact that he'd heard the joke dozens of times—from Beth, and from her father before that.

  Beth smiled, taking a sip of her beer. This was always the best part of her day, when she could forget her boring, low-paying job at the deli counter of the local grocery store and have fun with her uncle and his Warriors. She loved their crude humor, and the way they sang and danced badly whenever the right song would come on the radio. She loved the way they talked about their bikes, the way they always smelled of leather and motor oil, the way they drank until dawn while trading stories of the outlaw life.

  But even though the Warriors were having their usual raucous good time, Beth couldn't help but notice that one of them—her favorite one—wasn't partying with them. She briefly scanned the room and saw Hank sitting in the corner, looking like a man who was slowly succumbing to a state of deep shock.

  Beth had been hanging out with the MC since she was in high school, and from the very beginning, she'd had a crush on Hank. Back then, he'd just graduated from prospect to fully-patched member, and in the years since, she'd watched his meteoric rise within the club. He'd always been Bib's favorite, a surrogate son to him, and everyone knew that one day he was destined to take over for him as president.

  When Hank announced that he was going to marry Elena, Beth congratulated him warmly, despite the guilty stab of jealousy in her heart. When Elena had a baby, Beth fussed over it and gushed about how cute it was, trying not to let herself picture a life in which she and Elena had traded places.

  Then the accident happened, and ever since then, Hank hadn't been himself and Beth had struggled to find the right words to say to him—until enough time passed that it wouldn't be appropriate to say anything at all about it anymore.

  And now here he was, drinking shots of whiskey like they were water and looking like the loneliest person on earth.

  Beth glanced at Bib and saw that he'd been watching her with a bemused expression.

  “It's the one-year anniversary, isn't it?” she asked quietly.

  “Yep.”

  “I feel so bad for him.”

  Bib raised one of his bushy eyebrows, giving her a conspiratorial smile from behind his shaggy white beard. With that playful expression, he looked like some kind of biker Santa Claus about to disappear up a chimney. “From the look in your eyes, I'd say that's not all you're feeling about him.”

  Beth blushed. “Oh, come on, that's...I mean, I'm not...”

  Bib laughed. “Don't bother. It's obvious that you've been carrying a torch for Hank since you were still wearing braces.”

  “Obvious?” Beth groaned. “Really? So you've known about it the whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do the other Warriors know?”

  “Yes.”

  Beth blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, until her ears felt like they were on fire. “Does Hank know?”

  Bib shrugged. “Right now, I don't think Hank knows much about anything except the ghosts fucking around in his head. You could help him with that, though, I think.”

  Now it was Beth's turn to raise her eyebrows. “Are you saying you'd really be okay with...that?”

  Bib put a hand on Beth's shoulder. “Look, I'm not gonna pretend it ain't weird having this talk with my niece, okay? But you ain't a kid no more. I love you, and I love Hank, and all I want is for both of you to be happy. Watching him sink deeper and deeper into the mud over the past year has damn near broken my heart, and if you think you've got an honest chance at yanking him back out, then you owe it to yourself—and to him—to head on over there and take your shot.”

  Beth took a step toward Hank's table, then wavered. “But he's drunk, and he's grieving, and... what if it's the wrong time? What if it just confuses things?”

  Bib shook his head. “Drunk or sober, grief or no, trust me—these things can always be confusing. But they can be worked out later. And anyway, he looks like he's drowning, and you look like someone who wants to throw him a lifeline. Seems like the perfect time to me.”

  She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two beers from the bar. “Okay. Here I go, then.”

  Bib smiled. “Just breathe, hon. You'll do fine.”

  Beth walked over to Hank's table. As she got close, Hank looked up at her with bleary eyes.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked.

  He stared up at her for a long moment as though she'd just arrived on a UFO. Finally, he nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him. She took it, setting the whiskey and beers down between them.

  “You looked like you could use a refill,” she said. “And maybe some company.”

  Hank laughed bitterly. “I'm afraid I'm not gonna be very good company tonight, Beth.”

  “Just because you're feeling sad doesn't mean I won't enjoy your company. I know this is a rough night for you, but you can talk to me about it if you want.”

  “Trust me, you don't want to hear it.”

  “Maybe I do want to hear it.” Beth put her hand over his, looking into his eyes. She saw aching loss there, but there was something deeper, too—something primal and undeniable.

  Attracti
on, she thought. He finally sees me as someone he can want, instead of just the club's little sister. But what if it's just because of the booze? What if he sobers up and goes back to looking at me like I'm just Bib's niece? Could I handle that?

  To her surprise, she found that she was willing to take that chance. Her need to kiss him, to touch him, to feel his arms around her—she suddenly knew that she'd risk anything to make that happen.

  Hank pulled his hand away, and when he spoke, she heard his self-loathing quivering in his voice. “Well, maybe I don't want to hear it. Maybe I'm fucking tired and bored and sick of my own goddamn grief, and saying it all out loud will only make it worse. Did you ever think of that?”

  Beth considered getting up and leaving Hank alone, since it seemed like he might prefer that. But then she realized that he was lashing out at himself, not her. She couldn't bring herself to desert him and let him tear himself to pieces inside. She reached out, taking his hand in hers again and gently pulling it back to the table.

  “We don't have to talk,” she assured him. “And if you're sick of your grief, maybe I can help you feel something else tonight instead.”

  Hank rubbed his red eyes, looking at her like he'd never seen her before. “Beth, I'm warning you. You're better off staying away from me. I'm a fucking mess.”