Title | Wraith
Series | Dirty Mavericks MC, #1
Genre | MC Romance/Crime Thriller
The Dirty Mavericks have two rules—never betray the club and protect each other at all costs.
As the President, this family is all that matters . . . until a feisty little firecracker comes crashing into our compound with the body of a goddess and drowning in trouble.
Nova needs help, but nothing comes for free. I agree to rescue her sister from a rival club, but only if she gives her body to me exclusively. The longer she’s here, the more I fall for her, but pleasure with Nova comes with jealousy, secrets, and betrayal.
I can’t stop the burn in my soul for this woman, though, and between the bastards brutalizing the kids in my town, and our enemies determined to take her from me, I’m almost certain Nova will do more than burn me—this time, I may get scorched.
Too bad no one realizes I’d walk through Hellfire to keep Nova at my side and in my bed. She’s mine, and I’ll unleash my darkest demons to make sure she stays that way.
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It takes very little effort to kick the front door open. Luckily, we all ducked to the side as soon as I did, otherwise one of us would have ended up with a gut full of scattered fragments from the shotgun fired our way. I lift my gun and take him down with a shot to his neck and one to his gut. As soon as the shotgun clatters to the floor, we file in. Fights break out all around us as men scramble to protect themselves. Bile rushes to my throat when I notice the state of undress of some of them, along with the terrified screams that don’t belong to any of these cocksuckers. Rage boils my blood as I swap my gun out for my Karambit blades. I need to feel the evil in the blood run over me as I watch the light leave their eyes. Their vile souls are mine, and I’m going to collect them like I’m the fucking grim reaper.
A man to my left lifts his gun my way, but I do a pirouette that my sister’s ballet teacher would be proud of and send both of my blades gliding across his throat. My vision is painted a beautiful shade of red as his life leeches from him.
I wipe my face with my arm and face the one coming at me on my right.
Neck. Armpit. Gut.
Over and over, my blood meets flesh, and my hunger for their life builds with each innocent scream I hear coming from this house.
My phone goes off. Over and over. Text. Text. Text.
I stand from my latest victim to find the war still waging around me. How many of these motherfuckers were in this goddamn house?
My phone rings, but right now I’ve got only one thing on my mind. Whoever it is can wait.
Stalking through the house, I take out anyone that isn’t wearing our colors as I follow the screams. A beefy man is standing in front of a door to what I’m going to assume is a basement. His eyes are dead in his pockmarked face and they watch me as I prowl closer. He’s got a knife in each hand, much like me, and something tells me this one is going to put up a much bigger fight.
“You’re an ugly son of a bitch,” I remark.
He says nothing. His head tilts as he studies me.
My fingers twitch around my blade, and his eyes drop to it for a minute before coming back to me. His smile is slow to form.
“This is going to be fun.”
I chuckle. “You ain’t kidding.”
For such a big motherfucker, he’s quick on his feet. He flies at me, the edge of his blade nicking my neck before I yank it to the side with a hiss.
“See, now you done pissed me off,” I drawl, wiping away the blood.
Without giving him time to prepare, I’m on him. One blade sinks into his side with a twist, the other catches his thigh. I grit my teeth when he also gets my side, but from experience, I know that it’s not hit anything vital. His other blade comes at me, but I spin out of reach, my blades catching face as I do.
He comes at me with a roar, but I’m better prepared. As graceful as a ballerina in shitkickers, I twirl until I’m standing behind him. Before he gets the chance to turn, I’m slamming one blade into the base of his skull and the other into the front of his throat.
I yank my blades from him, letting gravity carry his body to the floor as I wrench open the basement door. The screams pierce my pounding head as I travel down the broken stairs. Row after row of cages line the basement with shivering teenagers huddled in the corners of them.
Mom. Fiancée. Wine Drinker. Hot Mess. Even bigger Walking Disaster. Fluent Sarcasm Speaker. Word Writer. Collector of Readers Hearts. Taco Lover. Book Nerd.
Lynne is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes a little mix of everything. Currently, it’s romance with a handful of suspense thrown in, a dash of dark and twisty along the way, and a lot more than the recipe calls for of steamy against-the-wall sexiness.
She lives in the quiet country with a bossy mister, a mischievous little prince, and two sassy divas. If you don’t catch her with her nose in a book or her fingers scribbling on paper, she’s usually right in front of the television with her family. She loves anything that glitters and has a weird habit of collecting pens. She thinks seafood is disgusting, beach sand is the devil, and Tom Hardy is life.
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