When she was eighteen, Piper’s obsessed boyfriend murdered her family right in front of her. She went into police protection, but his family’s wealth made it easy for him to track her down. Desperate and alone, she turned to her step-brother for help. He just happened to be president of a motorcycle club.
Eight years later, the club is patched into a larger club, the White Death MC, and when Piper meets its president, Kix Rockwood, she knows he’s a force to be reckoned with. Kix wants her, but he has no idea about the danger that lurks for her if she leaves the club. Because no matter how long it’s been, someone blames Piper for what happened and wants revenge for the past.
“Wait,” came a deep voice. “I thought I met all the club girls.”
Piper halted and glanced over to the opposite end of the table. Her gaze met a pair of eyes so green it made her think of emeralds. They were framed with the type of dark lashes that women would kill to have. His black hair flopped a little over his forehead, and scruff outlined a strong jaw. Next to his left eye was a small tattoo, a black diamond. The man was big, muscular, and he stared at her like he wanted to devour her. Butterflies swarmed through her belly and her mouth went dry. Piper tried to wet her lips with her tongue, but didn’t have enough saliva to do the job.
“She’s not club pussy, Kix,” Wick said evenly.
Kix flicked his gaze toward her brother. “Is she your old lady?”
Wick shook his head. “My sister.”
Kix visibly relaxed. “I see.” He looked at her once more. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Sissy,” Piper said. “I take care of the house.”
“Sissy,” he repeated, then frowned. “That name doesn’t seem to suit you.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s what I’m called.”
“And we’re all called something, aren’t we, sweetheart?”
The men of The White Death chuckled and she pulled her gaze away from Kix to look at the newcomers. Parky had been correct. Each man was gorgeous, a far cry from the current Rebels stock. The Brothers might be family, but some of them had a face only a mother could love.
“Whose old lady are you?” Kix asked.
She lifted her chin. “I’m no one’s old lady.”
He gave a wicked little grin. “Good,” he murmured.
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