CHAPTER 1
COWBOY
Watching Striker with his little family stirs a bit of jealousy in me. Not enough to make me want what he has, though. Besides, based on my past, that kind of life was never meant for me.
I walked away from everything and everyone, choosing the road instead.
I was a nomad until just a year ago, when I finally decided to settle down in Eastport, Rhode Island.
I’m used to wide-open spaces and never staying in one place too long, but I like the brothers I’ve found here. I like the community.
Shiver of Chaos MC has opened their arms to me. For the first time in a long time, I feel like part of a family. Oh, I have a family outside of Shiver. I just don’t acknowledge them, and they don’t acknowledge me.
My father loved me until the day he died.
He understood why I walked away and what it would cost me to stay.
When I came home from the military, my little sister was gone.
She’d taken off to live with our good-for-nothing mother, and my father never did a damn thing to bring her home.
He’d assumed she’d be okay. I missed her like hell, but I haven’t heard from her since.
No one around here knows who I really am.
I’m sure Gambit, the club president, figured it out when he ran my background check, but he’s never confronted me.
He’s never pointed out that I could afford more than the motorcycle I ride or the old, banged-up truck I drive.
I live in the clubhouse. After years of roaming, I don’t need a house or an apartment. It would feel like a cage.
I was born to the open fields and ranges of Wyoming.
We have so much land it would take a couple of days to ride across it.
It’s one of the largest still-running ranches in the nation, but I don’t care about that anymore.
After my father died, I let the ranch manager take it over.
It’s still mine, but I don’t ever want to live there again. Too many memories plague me.
I walked away from it all. I lived off the money in my bank account until my father passed away several months ago. A lawyer had to track me down to tell me. He died alone. No family was with him.
Now I have all the money I’ll ever need, but I hold on to that ranch because someday my sister might come home, and she’ll want it. She has always loved it. It was our mother poisoning her mind that made her demand her shares of the business. My father exiled her, and she left for places unknown.
War and betrayal will do that to a man. I don’t want anything holding me back or tying me down.
I want to be able to run or take off whenever I need to.
My club brothers wouldn’t let me, though.
I know it, and they do too. I craved a family.
Maybe I do want what Striker, Gambit, and Hemingway have, ol’ ladies and families.
Amelia, Striker’s ol’ lady, owns the Austin Roadhouse here in Eastport.
She’s originally from Eastport, just like Striker, but moved to Texas for years.
It shocked me how quickly he forgave her for walking away from him with their son, but that’s his life.
I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I’m a bitter, grumpy man.
I’m also a hard man who doesn’t forgive easily.
It’s why I was a nomad for so long. I didn’t want to settle down, but something about Eastport caught my eye.
Maybe it’s the beautiful scenery, the colors of the trees over the hills in the fall.
It could be a lot of things, but right now, it’s the company I keep that keeps me here.
I only have so many vices. Whiskey, women, my bike, and horses.
Someday I’ll have my own place again and will be able to have my horses, but for now they don’t count as part of the vices.
Whiskey and women happen together most of the time.
Whiskey is an everyday kind of thing for me these days.
I’m not an alcoholic, but it wouldn’t take much for me to swing that way. I’ve been close a few times.
“Holy fuck. I know who I’m going home with tonight,” Jumper says, staring across the dining room of the Roadhouse.
I follow his line of sight and everything in me locks up. Fuck that! She’s mine.
Her long chestnut hair shines under the lights, brushing the loops of her belt.
Tight-as-fuck Wrangler jeans hug her perfectly molded ass, and a bronze leather bustier presses her breasts up, causing them to practically spill out.
My mouth waters. Her muscular arms are on display, and her trim stomach with a sparkling jewel in her belly button makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her as I tongue that gem.
She throws her head back, and her face is illuminated from under the brim of her cowboy hat.
She has a cute, pert nose, eyes that dance with laughter, and lips that make a man want them wrapped around his cock.
She reaches across the bar and touches Striker’s ol’ lady’s hand as she giggles.
The tinkling sound cuts across the room and wraps around my heart.
I slam back the shot in front of me and stand up.
“I’ll have her number and be buying her a drink in the next ten minutes.” I laugh at Jumper, who just shakes his head.
“Fucker.” He grabs his drink and takes a sip. “You get her number, and I’ll take your shift to clear out the clubhouse later.”
Unlike me, he has no clue who she is. I don’t know why she’s in our town. I haven’t heard of any rodeos going on around here. But I’ve always had a bit of a crush on this girl, even though she’s a bit younger than me. I don’t care. This little nymph is going to be mine before the night is over.
“You’re on.”
I strut across the room. Women stop and watch as I walk by. My ripped body in Wrangler jeans and a cowboy hat catches their attention. I earned my road name legitimately. I was a real cowboy, until I went into the Army.
As I get closer to my perfect little nymph, some fucker tries to get her attention. Her leather jacket and purse sit on the back of her chair. The guy leans into her space, and she shifts closer to the chair, trying to get away from him.
“Baby, come have a drink with me,” he begs.
“No thanks. It sounds like you’ve had enough for both of us.” She chuckles and looks at Amelia. “I’ll have a coke, please,” she says.
Amelia grabs a glass and pulls the spout to fill it. After placing a napkin on the bar, she sets the nonalcoholic drink in front of the beauty. I know she’s underage, unlike the guy trying to distract her away from her drink.
Standing back, I watch him pull something from his pocket and reach for her glass.
“Fuck that,” I growl.
Amelia and the little nymph turn to me. The guy freezes, shocked and slow to react.
“Who are you?” he slurs.
I grab his wrist and squeeze until the vial falls from his hand. Amelia gasps as it rolls across the bar.
“Security,” Amelia hollers, while the nymph just stares at it, dumbfounded.
“Oh my God.” She looks up at me.
“I got you, nymph.” I smile at her, my lips tipping up.
She has to tilt her head back to look up at me. Her petite five-foot-two frame next to my six-foot height makes the difference obvious.
Security walks over and hauls the guy out. Striker comes over from the corner, where he’d been keeping an eye on his ol’ lady.
“Babe, you shouldn’t be out here. Come on, let’s go home and get you off your feet.”
“No, I was having a drink and talking with Andi.”
I don’t know how she knows my girl, but they seem to care for each other.
“You need off your feet,” he growls at her.
I turn to look at Andi. “I’m Callum,” I say, giving her my real name.
“Hello, Callum, I’m Andi.” Her voice has a soft, lilting quality.
She’s even sexier up close. Hearing my name on her tongue makes my cock rock hard and my heart to practically beat out of my chest.
“I know who you are. Can I get an autograph?”
She chuckles and grabs a napkin. Amelia hands her a black marker.
Andi writes on the napkin and hands it to me. Her signature is her real name, Andrea, and she’s written, Thank you for saving me.
“I’ll save you anytime you need, baby.”
“Oh jeez, Cowboy, be nice. She’s—” Striker starts, but I hold up my hand holding the napkin to stop him.
I tip my head to the side at Jumper. He shakes his head. He doesn’t need to know it’s not her number.
So I cheated a bit so that I could have the evening with Andi.
“I know who she is. Amelia, get off your feet. I got this little nymph. Have one of your servers bring us a cherry coke to the table.”
“I’ll see you Sunday,” Andi says to Amelia.
I take Andi’s hand in mine and grab her things before leading her to the table where Jumper is sitting. Instead of letting her sit in a chair next to me, I pull her down onto my lap and slip the napkin into my back pocket.
“Um.” Andi squirms against me, and I lean into her back.
“Nymph, stop moving, or you’ll embarrass me,” I growl in her ear.
“That would be your fault, not mine. Just because you saved me from the creeper doesn’t mean I’m going to go home with you tonight. I’ll have you know I could have handled him myself.”
Her sassy tone makes my mouth water. I want to suck on her tongue and pin her to the table before spanking her ass red.
“Oh, I know you could have handled him. Now hold on a sec before you get into a tizzy. Jumper, this is Andrea Forbes of Forging Forbes Ranch. She’s a former world champion barrel racer, with some of the fastest times on record.”
She blushes and reaches a hand toward Jumper. “Call me Andi, and I’m just a regular girl.”
Before Jumper can take it, I snatch her hand away.
“Don’t touch her, friend. I’ll cut off Rosie and her five sisters.”
Andi’s eyes widen under her hat. She glances down at my hip, where a long Bowie rests in its sheath.