Note: This is a prepublication sneak peek of the next book in my Great Wolves M.C. Series and subject to slight changes before it goes to press. Enjoy!

* * *

“I was the good girl daughter of a bad man…”

Meet Jules. She’s about to steal Ryder’s heart. And he’s about to bring down a rival club to let her do it.

Jules

Today, on my wedding day, I was wearing a bridal gown I didn’t pick out, to walk down an aisle of a church I didn’t attend, to marry a man I didn’t love.

I actually didn’t even like him. At. All.

Daddy had arranged it. He said marrying David Wexler was my duty to the family.

“Wexlers are one of the keys to my operations. They’re loyal to the family. Just like you are. Cheech’s ass would be in the pen if it wasn’t for them.”

Daddy said it more to himself than to me. Daddy wasn’t worried about convincing me. Cheech was his brother. I had no idea why Cheech would be in the pen. I didn’t want to know.

Daddy was the president of the Devils Hawks M.C. as long as I could remember. People did what he said or they got hurt or disappeared.

He’d kept me on the sidelines of his life and his club while he ruled every decision about my life. My mother wasn’t with the program so she was cut out.

Right about now I wished I could be cut out too.

I almost was. I went away to college. Those four years made me think I was free of the Devils Hawks. It lulled me into believing I could have a life. My own life.

Daddy was showing me how wrong I was. How in control of everything he was.

Daddy had evil deeds to do and I was just a tool to help him do them. Everyone around him was in service to his vision of the Devils Hawks.

“Daddy I can’t marry him. I don’t even know him.” When he’d told me what he was forcing me into I’d felt the hot sting of tears roll down my cheeks. At the same time the cold realization that I didn’t have a choice settled into my chest. If Daddy said to do something you did it. His club did. Everyone did.

My mother’s only advice to me about survival was to look the other way. She said she didn’t want to know more and advised me to take the same stance. Play dumb about the club she said. And I did. A teenage girl can easily only concern herself with her own problems. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was my real life.

That ignorance was now costing my freedom. I had no argument to make. I had no escape plan. My life was Daddy’s to use as he wanted just as much as the men who wore the Hawk’s cut.

Fuck. That.

I wasn’t going to sacrifice my freedom or my life for my Daddy’s evil group of bastard bikers.

It was my life and I wasn’t going to be a slave to Daddy’s club.

For the last few days I’d been playing along until I could figure something out.

I wore the dress Daddy said to wear. I let David kiss me on the cheek at the rehearsal dinner. Thank God he wasn’t ballsy enough to kiss me on the lips in front of Daddy.

And here it was my “wedding day.”

I was fluffed, blow dried, curled, and glossed. They’d waxed stuff, plucked stuff, moisturized me and deemed me picture perfect.

I was a perfectly groomed caged animal.

Daddy had a couple of members drag me into the church. If I had a thought of running Boone and Headlock were there to stop me.

“You are the ugliest bridesmaids I ever saw.” I mouthed off. I probably shouldn’t but I couldn’t help it.

Headlock carried my bag and didn’t respond to my dig. I’d stuffed my bag with shit that had nothing to do with being on a honeymoon. I hope he didn’t think to look inside.

“Just get in the fucking church.” Boone was cold. They were both there to intimidate me. But something about Boone did the trick. Headlock looked like a wild animal but Boone, he was a mass of muscle. He wore his hair and his beard long but not a hair on his head was out of place. He had his hair pulled tight and his mouth pulled tighter.

“Is that any way to talk to a bride?” I said but I moved it along. I wasn’t sure if Boone or Headlock would hurt me. I supposed they would hurt me, but just not so you could see the bruises.

Had to have those wedding pictures you know.

We were nowhere near Southwood, Daddy’s territory. I knew that much. But I had no idea what town we were in.

Daddy wanted it to be picture perfect. He also wanted it to be in a place that was totally unfamiliar to me so the remotest chance of me having a friend or a lifeline was extinguished. My bridesmaids were Devils Hawks for God’s sake he wasn’t about to risk me having a girlfriend or an old teacher help me out of pity.

I knew were an almost a two-hour drive away from Southwood. But I didn’t know where the hell this church was. Daddy had also seen to it that the limo had tinted windows. Just another way to keep control over me. To keep me off balance. Were we still in Michigan?

I wondered who would marry me and David Wexler? What did this church owe the club? Or did Daddy give them a generous donation to ignore the fact that unholy matrimony was about to go down?

The limo stopped and I looked up. We had arrived. It was a pretty church, I had to admit, and it was in the country.

With each step up into the building the urge to scream became stronger. I wanted to stamp my foot or claw at the lace of my dress, anything to release the frustration of being trapped.

Because trapped I was. Daddy hadn’t left me alone for one moment since he’d set me down this path. I’d been with him, or Uncle Cheech, and now Boone and Headlock. They were there to babysit me. No question about it. Whatever freedom I had in the last four years at college was ripped away. If I really ever had it all. I was a prisoner to Daddy’s orders. To the needs of the Devils Hawks.

Nothing had changed. Daddy was in charge and everyone around him did what he said. That included me above all. I was the good girl daughter of a bad man. And I did what I was told.

“They’re here to keep you safe. We’re having trouble with the Great Wolves M.C.” That was Daddy’s excuse for keeping me under lock and key.

Daddy had isolated me since I’d gotten back from college. He knew he was going to do this. He’d planned it perfectly.

Other than my initial session of begging to get out of it I was a mostly passive and compliant daughter. It was my only play. I needed to make Daddy think I was okay and had agreed.

It worked well enough. Because now, moments before I was supposed to walk down the aisle only Boone and Headlock handed me off to Ross.

The fact that only one person stood between me and escape was the best opening I would have.

“Ross?”

“Yeah, that’s my name for now.”

“Ah, well nice to know you Ross, before you become Hammer or Knuckles or whatever tough guy name they give you.”

The club gave you a nickname once you were patched in but now they called him probie.

Ross was skinny, smaller than Boone and Headlock by at least 20 pounds and now he was stuck with the job of standing outside the powder room of a church.

“Well I hope it’s not Knuckles. I would always forget the K.” I laughed for the first time in a while.

“Well, Ross, I’m sorry you got stuck with handmaiden to the bride duties.”

“It’s okay Jules. Protecting you is an honor.” He was so out of place, with his leather, and scruff, in a church, and as a bridesmaid it would have been funny if I even had one ounce of humor about the situation.

“An honor? Okay, well whatever.” I wondered how old Ross was. What was his story? Why did he think getting into a motorcycle gang was a good idea? But I didn’t have time to find out. I had to worry about my story. That meant getting away from this probie for a few minutes.

“I’m going to go in here and fix up, so give me a minute. I’ve got to deal with a lot.”

I pointed to my dress, veil, and flowers. I was full on Bride Princess. Daddy imagined what a six-year-old girl would want for a wedding dress and arranged for it. It would have been sweet except that I was grown, educated, and had decided that I didn’t want a life with Detective David Wexler.

I didn’t want to be Daddy’s payment to a dirty cop.

I didn’t know all the things the Devils Hawks did but I did know that what he did with his club was dangerous, illegal, and required someone inside law enforcement to look the other way.

That was David. My mission was to keep David happy. For Daddy’s club. It made me sick to think I was expected to give up my body at the whim of the club.

That was the idea. Well that was Daddy’s idea.

I had other ideas.

Ross let me close the door to the powder room of the church. Headlock had let me carry my own bag when we’d gotten into the church. And he hadn’t snooped. That was good because inside my one bag I’d jammed my wallet, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, my Chuck Taylor’s and some toiletries. I’d also packed away some of my designs and artwork from my senior project, maybe I could sell them?

There was also a sexy negligee from David that he wanted me to wear tonight. Barf. I was afraid to leave it behind at my house though for fear of giving myself away.

Most important I had my graduation cash. That was something. That would be my lifeline. I wished I had more time. I wished I could pack a Dodge Mustang in there too. No such luck though. As it was my bag was stuffed and my mind was set.

There was a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Miss Jules, you have about five minutes. The pastor guy said you have to come out.”

“You try peeing in this dress! You wanna come in and hold it up for me Ross?”

“No, no. For sure no. I’ll let your Dad know you’re almost ready.”

“Good.”

Shit. I didn’t have time to change into my jeans. I didn’t really have time to think. It was move my ass or be married. I decided to move. The window to the powder room was high up, I couldn’t reach. But there was a tall garbage can. I flipped it over and put my bag around my shoulder.

I hoisted myself up and balanced for a second on the window. It was about a six feet drop. Six feet is a lot. I decided to arm hang my way out. That would make it less than a foot. I swung my legs out of the church window, then I squirmed over so I was suspended half in and half out. I hesitated for a second.

My bag might weigh me down but I wasn’t leaving that behind. My thoughts raced and all the possible scenarios flipped through my head.

Daddy would be enraged by even the smallest show of disobedience. But marrying David Wexler? Worse going on a honeymoon with David Wexler? None of computed. I couldn’t.

I had a lot of actual and emotional baggage to carry for someone who needed to haul ass. I was so scared. When I dropped from this window I would really be leaping into the unknown. I’d be crossing a threshold for sure.

I held tight to the window ledge for another second. My white pumps dangled. I felt the silk of my dress snag on the bricks of the church.

Oops. I was shredding the princess outfit more and more with each passing second. Then I heaved myself out. I fell to the ground in a heap of white. I didn’t stay on the ground long. I popped up and gathered the voluminous skirt of my fairy tale wedding dress in a chunk and held it to one side.

Then I ran.

I ran as fast as my white stilettos could carry me.

* * *

Ryder

I would have smiled but I was on the bike. I wasn’t in the mood for a grill full of bugs.

I rounded the curve of a long empty country road. The spring was just starting to turn things green. I needed the air. I needed the freedom my bike gave me. Even if I was now a responsible officer of my club and ran a fucking business, the open road, even for an hour or two, was necessary. If I didn’t ride I got “squirrelly” as Sawyer called it. It was my medication.

I was going to spend a day, maybe three, rough, out in the country, sleeping at a campground I knew. That was one thing my old man taught me. How to camp. I loved the grease and the engines of the Great Wolves Auto Body shop but every once in a while I had to clear it out of my lungs. I had my best ideas on the road or in a tent.

The members understood. We all had days, sometimes weeks, where we needed out. Except for Sawyer. As the Prez you were never out I guess.

The wind, the engine, the trees whipping by, all of it was my drug. I was enjoying it and it was the perfect way to balance my new responsible life of running Great Wolves Auto Body. I was completely in my own head. That’s until I saw something on the side of the road. Something very out of place.

A cotton candy shaped puff of white caught my eye as it moved strangely forward along the side of the road. It was sort of hard to make out what I was seeing so I eased back on the throttle as I got closer.

It was a woman. And I had to close my eyes tight and re-focus them to be sure I was really seeing her.

She was running, pretty damn fast actually, for all the fluff that she was hauling with her. I scanned her from head to toe as I approached.

She had piles of blonde hair with flowers woven in and out of it. I could see white netting, lace, and sparkle covering her from the neck to her tiny waist, and then an explosion of white skirt. She was carrying it to the side, as her legs, covered in white fishnets, pumped fast. At the bottom of this wedding cake topper gone rogue was a pair of muddy Converse tennis shoes.

Well that explained how she was able to haul ass as fast as she was.

As I got closer she made a break for the tree line and off the road. I’d probably spooked her but I really did want to know what the story was. There was no one around for miles. Where had she come from?

As she scrambled to the woods I called out.

“Hey, stop!” I lifted my helmet off my head. I watched her trip and take a tumble. I put my stand down and got off the bike.

“Stay away!” She yelled as she tried to get up which meant navigating her giant dress, which was now grass stained. It was like a tangled fishnet around her legs.

I put both my hands up. I supposed my leather and current Mohawk hair style was not the most reassuring sight for anyone to see much less a sprinting, uh, bride? Yes. I was looking at a runaway bride here.

“Listen Princess Buttercup. I’m not here to hurt you. Just looks like you need a little help.” She was looking down, her back to me, and she was still.

When she turned her head and lifted it to face me I felt something very strange. She had gray eyes. I’d never seen that color of eyes before and they looked very much like the eyes of someone being hunted. Panic was just under the surface. And she was thinking. It showed in her eyes and furrowed brow.

She looked up and down at me. Nothing about how I look was going to make her feel safer. That I knew.

“Are you a Great Wolf?” She asked me. Which was a surprise, odd that this little princess knew what a Great Wolf was, didn’t seem like it fit.

“Yes.”

“I need a ride. Fast. Out of here. Now.” She figured out a way to stand up, despite the massive amount of white fluff pulling her down, and she looked me in the eyes again.

I moved from her eyes to button nose and perfect bow shaped lips. God this princess was like out of a book for sure. I still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure this was real. Had I accidently smoked something more than a little weed lately?

“Well you’re in luck. Riding fast and out of here is my current destination.” I put out a hand and she hesitated. She looked down the road. It was empty. Was she expecting something to be there? It was just the two of us. Her gray eyes were beautiful, no question, but scared.

The road she’d been running along was deserted that I knew since I was on it. What was she so worried about?

We stood on opposite sides of a drainage ditch that kept the Michigan country roads flood free in the wet spring. We were the only two people in sight on this clear spring Sunday morning.

A biker and a bride sizing each other up. I’m sure it made a hell of a picture.

Then she put her hand in mine. My skin was rough and dark, hers soft and white. I also noticed a stiffening in areas I did not expect. It was a shock. Apparently I had a Princes Bride fetish that I was unaware of until this second.

I pulled her across the ditch and up to me. She leaped at that same moment and we were about half an inch apart. I took a breath in through my nose. There was a sweet smell to her hair. Maybe it was the flowers. I could see they were real and interwoven in this elaborate hair situation. I wanted to get closer to her. To breath in again. But instead I stood still and let her get her balance.

Her stormy eyes met mine. I meant to kiss her. I really did. I questioned myself again. Had someone put a magic mushroom on my last pizza?

But I snapped out of it.

“Where to?” I said.

“Anywhere but here,” she said and she kept her hand in mine.

“All right Princess.” I guided her up to my bike and watched her hike her dress up. This time I caught a glimpse of garter belts. Shit. This was likely a very messy situation I was helping her out of. But the garter belts were enough. Mess or not I was putting her on my bike.

“My name isn’t Princess.” She said.

“Oh yeah, well you look like one. Except for those kicks.” I answered as I made sure she had all of her dress up and safely tucked in away from my tires and around her.

“My name’s Juliet, Jules. You can call me Jules.”

“Sounds like a very princess name if you ask me. I’m Ryder. Keep that dress up so you don’t get killed. And hold on tight.”

“Are you headed to a town?” She asked me.

“I’m headed to a campground. Few days off. That work for you?”

“It’ll do for now. Let’s go.”

“Okay Princess, uh, Jules.” And I got on my bike and kicked the stand out. I revved it up and unleashed. If she wanted to go fast I’d show her fast.

She held on, looser than I’d recommend at the speed we were going. She was a little wild this runaway princess bride. That was clear. She liked the speed so I took the pins out for her.

I wondered for a second, who was the prince or groom she’d left behind? Was he the one that sparked the fear in her eyes when she’d looked at the road behind her?

I didn’t wonder for long. Instead I enjoyed the road, the wind, the clean air, and the feeling of having Jules lightly hold on as we road.

The smell of flowers mixed in with the smell of my leather. The combo worked. It worked like crazy.

* * *

Jules

Hot. There was no other way to describe Ryder. He was hot. He looked like Brad Pitt era Thelma and Louise wrapped tight in leather and topped off in a Mohawk. And he had the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. I mean ever. And I had been treated to some sexy smiles when I dated the captain of the football team in college.

Ryder’s smile let me know he’d seen my garter belt but wasn’t going to mention it. He didn’t need to.

I had been on fast bikes before. And I knew exactly what every patch on Ryder’s leather meant. He was Sargent at Arms of the Great Wolves M.C., Grand City Chapter.

I was raised in the club. Just not that one. I was raised to hate the Great Wolves because Daddy said to.

“They’ve gone soft and they act so fucking superior. Fine with me. I’ll take every last cent they would have earned. Idiots.”

I’d heard that and versions of it right before I’d left home for college. Now that I was back I tried to remember the latest. I remembered Daddy saying there was some sort of trouble but I hadn’t listened to details.

I wish I had. Whatever. I could use Ryder’s fast bike and clear appreciation of my looks to get as far away from the church as possible. He’d told me to hold tight but I didn’t need to. I could have driven this bike myself. I held on but only just enough.

And I kept looking back. I envisioned the scene. Ross would be in deep shit when my Daddy realized I’d slipped away. That gave me a pang of guilt but I brushed it aside. He’d have to fend for himself just like I was doing.

I squeezed my eyes shut and blocked out the scene. I didn’t want to imagine the rage I had set off in my Daddy.

I had to stay in the present if I didn’t want to be dragged back by my hair to that damn church. For a brief second I let myself enjoy the ride. Enjoy Ryder. He smelled good. He felt good and he was handling this bike well. Fast, confident, but also careful. He was making sure I had a good ride. He smoothed out the curves and avoided the constant Michigan pot holes.

I put my head on his shoulder. I shouldn’t have. But it felt right and it helped me think. It helped me plan. I had to stay out of sight. Was this campground Ryder was headed to also a good idea for me?

I mulled it over for half a second or less. When I felt Ryder pull up on the throttle. I looked to see why up ahead. And then I looked behind. There were two bikes on our path and one behind us.

Fuck.

The Devils Hawks had caught up to me. Shit. The two bikes were stopped and blocking our progress. Ryder had no choice but to stop. He enabled the kickstand of his bike. He looked at me and said in a low cold voice, “Stay right here. These are some bad dudes.”

“But,” he didn’t give me a chance to explain.

“I’m badder.” And he flashed that smile at me. Shit. He had no idea what he’d done by picking me up.

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Enjoyed this sneak peek? Don’t miss Ryder, the next book in my Great Wolves M.C. Series. Click to find out more.