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Her Mercy, Chapter 23 🔒✉️

When I wrote and signed that confession, I committed to twenty years of hell. I’d do it all again. Knowing that Olivia and Cliff got the happy ending I never had, and that I kept my club alive, made it all worth it. I can die in peace.

If only I could let Bree go with that same peace.

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Her Mercy, Chapter 19  Her Mercy, Chapter 20  Her Mercy, Chapter 21  Her Mercy, Chapter 22  Part 3: The Bohemian and the BikerChapter 23NowMercy


I lie in Claudine’s guest bedroom without sleeping, eyes growing sandpaper scratchy from watching the shadows move across the ceiling. I can’t sleep even if my mind settled enough. Hot pain sears in my joints, keeping my heart awake and pounding.

It’s fitting that my search ends here, in Claudine’s bed. Well, not her bed exactly, but still. Over the past twenty years, I’ve asked myself a million times what might’ve been if I’d made a different choice. If I hadn’t sat at the bar throwing back whiskey. If I hadn’t gone up to my old room with the first woman I crossed paths with. Maybe I wouldn’t have sent Bree running.

I sigh. It’s all in the past. In the morning, I’ll get on the Softail and ride back to Connecticut. Salvage what I can, if anything of my old life can be salvaged.

Probably not.

I flex my ankles, point my toes, clench and unclench my fists. A storm must be coming in, because I’m getting stiffer with every moment. Or maybe twenty years of angry inmates’ beatings are catching up to me.

No one likes a pedophile.

When I wrote and signed that confession, I committed to twenty years of hell. I’d do it all again. It was worth it. Knowing that Olivia and Cliff got the happy ending I never had was worth it. Keeping my club alive was worth it. I can die in peace.

If only I could will my own heart to stop beating.

The sun sinks into the horizon, the night a deep velvet blue. I turn on my side, inhaling the pillow, pretend it still smells like her. Pretend she never left.

Pretend I never left her first.

I may have my peace, but I’ll never lose my regrets. Sometimes one can’t exist without the other.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 22 🔒✉️

Mercy crossed his arms. “And what happens when you tell everyone your baby isn’t mine?”

I rubbed my lips together. “We’ll all just have to live with the truth, then, won’t we?”

“That’s not what you want,” he said, cupping my chin. “And it’s not what I promised you. It’s better this way.”

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Her Mercy, Chapter 19  Her Mercy, Chapter 20  Her Mercy, Chapter 21  Part 3: The Bohemian and the BikerChapter 221997Bree


The investigation took months. Because we were married, the police couldn’t hold Mercy for long, but it loomed over us.

I rocked Olivia in the nursery, glancing at the clock on the wall. She’d fallen asleep hours ago. I didn’t want to move. If I moved, I’d jinx it all.

The squeal of the front door opening echoed up the stairs. Mercy’s footfalls grew slower as he climbed, his steps heavy. He leaned against the frame of the door. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“She out?”

I nodded, peeking down at her. She looked nothing like I’d imagined. She had wide brown eyes, and curls I’d never be able to brush without tangling. Her skin was fair, almost porcelain. There was no hint of the story I’d told myself throughout the past eight months.

“Can we talk?” Mercy whispered.

I laid her down in her crib and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind me. In the tiny hall, we were forced to stand so near each other, my heartbeat matched his.

He pressed his hands together, skull rings catching the sunlight that streamed in. Exhaling, he closed his eyes. “The lawyer says,” he began, keeping his eyes closed, “they wouldn’t normally have a case, because we’re married.”

“But?” I pressed.

“But that nurse knows the DA, and she’s got it out for me.”

“Us,” I corrected.

He shrugged, and his eyes popped open. “Because we weren’t married when Olivia was conceived, they’re prosecuting it as statutory rape.”

I sagged against the wall. “What if I testify?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You were under the age of consent.”

“What if we prove Olivia isn’t yours?” I begged.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 22

teaser

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Her Mercy, Chapter 19  Her Mercy, Chapter 20  Her Mercy, Chapter 21  Part 3: The Bohemian and the BikerChapter 221997Bree


The investigation took months. Because we were married, the police couldn’t hold Mercy for long, but it loomed over us.

I rocked Olivia in the nursery, glancing at the clock on the wall. She’d fallen asleep hours ago. I didn’t want to move. If I moved, I’d jinx it all.

The squeal of the front door opening echoed up the stairs. Mercy’s footfalls grew slower as he climbed, his steps heavy. He leaned against the frame of the door. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“She out?”

I nodded, peeking down at her. She looked nothing like I’d imagined. She had wide brown eyes, and curls I’d never be able to brush without tangling. Her skin was fair, almost porcelain. There was no hint of the story I’d told myself throughout the past eight months.

“Can we talk?” Mercy whispered.

I laid her down in her crib and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind me. In the tiny hall, we were forced to stand so near each other, my heartbeat matched his.

He pressed his hands together, skull rings catching the sunlight that streamed in. Exhaling, he closed his eyes. “The lawyer says,” he began, keeping his eyes closed, “they wouldn’t normally have a case, because we’re married.”

“But?” I pressed.

“But that nurse knows the DA, and she’s got it out for me.”

“Us,” I corrected.

He shrugged, and his eyes popped open. “Because we weren’t married when Olivia was conceived, they’re prosecuting it as statutory rape.”

I sagged against the wall. “What if I testify?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You were under the age of consent.”

“What if we prove Olivia isn’t yours?” I begged.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 21 🔒✉️

My baby—I miss her more than anything. She’s a million times better off without me. I know that down to my soul. I didn’t deserve her, and she deserved far better than me.

Which is why I need to stay away.

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Her Mercy, Chapter 19  Her Mercy, Chapter 20  Part 3: The Bohemian and the BikerChapter 21NowBree


People rush by me with various suitcases in tow. A woman tugs one behind her, its wheels catching on the edge of a fatigue mat for a moment before bouncing, righting itself. She hurries away, barely even noticing.

I’ve been sitting in this airport for hours today. It’s a small airport, with barely any departures or arrivals. I couldn’t book a flight online if I wanted to, and there aren’t even any flights that go straight to Connecticut. The closest is Philadelphia. I’d have to hop on another plane.

It’s an option.

It’s not the option, though.

I consider the departures again. It’s a short list, one I’ve memorized: Philadelphia, Charlotte, Atlanta. Head back north or go farther south.

I just don’t know if I have enough cash on me.

The only way to find out is to walk up to that counter and try to buy a ticket. Instead, I sit. I watch. I wait.

What I’m waiting for, I don’t know.

A sign, maybe? If I still had tarot cards, I’d pull them out. All I have is the bag I brought to Claudine’s and the clothes I’m wearing. I study the toes of my boots, a pair Claudine bought me. Out of guilt, I suppose. But the past is in the past, where it needs to stay.

I just don’t know where the future lies.

I suppose no one does.

Another woman walks by with a little girl in tow. The child has dark curls and wide brown eyes. She looks just like Olivia did. My heart constricts in my chest. My baby—I miss her more than anything. She’s a million times better off without me. I know that down to my soul. I didn’t deserve her, and she deserved far better than me.

Which is why I need to stay away.

Standing, I stretch the last few hours out of my muscles. Then I walk up to the counter.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” His Southern accent is thick. Virginia is weird like that. In some towns in this state, everyone has a nowhere accent. Then there are places like Newport News.

“I need a flight to Charlotte, please.” I place my hands on the counter, splaying my fingers. A dozen rings glint in the florescent light. If I have to, I’ll find the nearest pawn shop and unload some of them. Most of them mean nothing to me, anyway. They’re just decoration.

He taps some keys on his computer, the clacking soothing my frayed nerves. “The next flight out is for 8:11 this evening, ma’am. Will that do?”

“Please,” I confirm. He tells me the price and I reach into my bag for my wallet. As I undo the button and reach for the crumpled bills, I stop dead. Everything moves in slow motion. I lift my left hand, lips parted, pain blossoming in my chest.

The stone.

The turquoise stone.

In the ring Mercy gave me.

It’s gone.

The gasp steals all the air from my lungs. I wheeze, eyes still locked on the now empty ring. Like the stone will just reappear. I turn in a slow circle, stooped, gaze sweeping across the floor.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 20 🔒✉️

“You’ve got a little something,” Mercy said with a laugh, leaning in with a handkerchief. He patted at my nose, his gaze intent.

“Did you get it?” I asked, my face tipped up toward him.

He lowered his arm. His eyes softened. “Yes.”

Our chests rose and fell, bringing us closer together. I prayed silently. This was it. It had to be. Make my story come true.

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Her Mercy, Chapter 19  Part 3: The Bohemian and the BikerChapter 201997Bree


I sat in a chair in the back parking lot of The Wet Mermaid, my left hand on my belly. The silver glinted in the overhead light, but I only had eyes for the turquoise stone. I still couldn’t believe any of it. Mercy’s proposal. How he somehow knew I’d been eyeing that ring for weeks. Despite Phee always cutting me a break, I’d never be able to afford it. Not on my under the table wages.

Not with a baby on the way.

She was a girl. I knew it like Mercy knew that ring was meant for me. The obstetrician I’d seen a few days after our diner wedding told me I was only about eight weeks—miles away from being able to tell in an ultrasound—but I knew.

Sometimes, you just know.

Like I knew I was safe with Mercy.

“Here,” Shannon said, stepping outside and handing me a cup of herbal tea. The steam rose into the cold dark air. Inside, music shook the walls, but outside it was quiet. Outside I could sit and rest my feet. I could avoid people’s curious looks as they tried to decide whether I’d gained weight and they shouldn’t say anything, or if I was pregnant and they should congratulate me. The news hadn’t spread outside the club, apparently.

Not yet, anyway. Soon everyone would be talking about Mercy’s very pregnant, very young looking wife. It was the lesser of two evils, but that didn’t make me have to like the talk that came with it.

“Thanks.” I wrapped my hands around the mug.

She ran her fingers through my hair, separating strands and braiding them. “I’m still mad I wasn’t invited,” she teased, “but I’m so freakin’ happy for you two. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!”

I smiled. Even though I hated lying to everyone—especially Shannon—it was a comfortable lie. Like a fairytale. If I tried hard enough, I could pretend we really were in love. Every time I put my hand on my belly, I pretended she really was his. Eventually, I’d believe it.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 19 🔒✉️

Once upon a time, I was a hero in her story, but not the hero. If things were different, maybe we really could’ve had a chance. If I’d been ten years younger. If she’d been ten years older. If no one had traumatized her. If I hadn’t put the club before her and Olivia.

There are too many If onlys to count.

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18  Part 2: The War HeroChapter 19Now

I start with Buckroe, taking Claudine’s car to the beach to keep the rain off me. The last thing my joints need is another soaking. Even though I’m afraid, I’m also hoping I’ll find Bree here and she’ll come back to Claudine’s with me. I know Claudine said she looked, but maybe she didn’t look hard enough. I’d recognize the back of Bree’s head anywhere. Claudine wouldn’t, no matter how well she meant.

Even as the rain slows to a steady drizzle, the beach remains empty. I walk up and down the coast, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the water or huddled underneath an umbrella.

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Her Mercy, Chapter 18 🔒✉️

I’d put my feelings for her aside. I could do that for her. She’d done everything for me. She’d listened, she’d seen me and my pain, and she’d even tried to help. Not even my brothers had done that for me.

“For all intents and purposes,” I promised, “I’ll be your husband and your baby’s father.”

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Part 2: The War HeroChapter 181997

The stairs rose in front of me, the steps steeper than when I’d descended them. My shoulders drooped under the weight of it all: the little girl, my ended friendship with Bastard, the split vote. The last thing I’d expected was for any of us to vote nay. What the fuck was wrong with my brothers? How could they seriously believe that Ravage and I were trying to take over the MC?

I’d never been interested in being President. I hadn’t even wanted to be Vice President. I stomped up the stairs, blood boiling. I’d only taken the VP patch at Bastard’s insistence.

“You’re the only one I can do this with,” he’d said.

It was all bullshit. Everything. From the government I’d fought for to the club I’d built. I’d just been lying to myself.

In a world so masked, I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I had no idea what was going to happen to my club, the only thing I had left. If we couldn’t come to a majority vote, nothing would change. Bastard would remain President, would continue molesting Lucy until someone caught him.

Or killed him.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs. I could do it. I could save that little girl. With a knife or a gun or my bare hands. I could choke the life out of him until those dead eyes went dull. Problem solved.

And then I’d have no more club.

I’d have no protection.

I’d go to jail, spend the rest of my life in prison with no allies.

All for breaking club code.

The very thing I loved would be the very thing to destroy me.

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Read Her Mercy, Part 2 for free

Her Mercy Parts 1 & 2 are now live!

In case you missed it, I’ve been serializing my dark fake marriage romance Her Mercy on my website, free for all email subscribers.

This novella is a standalone prequel to the River Reapers series, and a little less dark than the main series. If you haven’t read it yet, now’s the perfect time!

what you can expectstandalone novella prequel to the River Reapers MC series he’s 19 years older second chance romance spanning decades runaway bride SA survivor heroine wounded warrior biker hero surprise baby (it’s not his) healing together [image error]quick read

The last time Bree ran away, she put the love of her life Mercy in prison. Now that he’s out, he’s got to find her and convince her they belong together so they can both be free.

Bree has been running for decades. Every time she gets into trouble, the River Reapers MC covers her tracks. That’s how she met Mercy, the only man who’s ever loved her, and the reason she’s running again.

Mercy has an ache in his bones that not even freedom can soothe. When Bree disappeared, she put him in prison both metaphorically and physically.

Mercy needs to find Bree and reclaim the home they once found in each other. But Bree is still buckling under the weight of her own prison, and if Mercy doesn’t find her before her past does, she’ll disappear forever.

Trigger warnings for Her Mercy Catch Up on Part 1 Read Her Mercy, Part 1 for free Read part 2: The War Hero Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Her Mercy, Chapter 17  Her Mercy, Chapter 18 

Part 3 begins Tuesday, May 6th! Be sure to join my free email list so you don’t miss a chapter.

You can also become a sponsor for $5/month.

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keep bree & mercy for your shelfBuy the book

Available everywhere books are sold!

catch up on the series Read A Disturbing Prospect for free Read A Risky Prospect for free A Fatal Prospect, Chapter 1

If you’re enjoying this serialized edition of Her Mercy, give this post a like! And if you’re excited for more River Reapers stories, give this post a like for that.

Photo by Edward Cisneros on Unsplash

A dark second chance romance told with 11 songs

Music is a powerful tool. All of Mike’s concussion clinic providers are about 45 minutes away from our apartment—plus traffic. “Exhausted” is my baseline, but when he started having seizures, I took over as driver. It’s been good for me, in a sense, challenging me out of my comfort zone and into pushing myself a little bit more. But driving requires a lot of focus, which eats up a lot of my spoons—especially when I’m in a flare.

“Hit me with something high octane,” I beg Mike, passing him my phone. He puts on Kylesa, and it actually perks me up.

This isn’t the first time I’ve used music to set my own mood. I do it a lot when I’m writing, especially when writing dual POV romance. The two lead characters are often different as night and day, even down to the music I put on to get in their heads.

When I wrote Bree’s chapters for Her Mercy, I listened to a lot of Liela Moss’s My Name is Safe in Your Mouth. All of the songs on this album have a sad, romantic, nostalgic feel to them. There’s wisdom woven into the heartbreak, a constant thread of self-discovery. The novella is dual POV but the story is really driven by Bree; Mercy’s all in, it’s Bree who has to face and save herself.

The playlist for Her Mercy is shorter than the other books’ playlists, mostly because I listened to that Liela Moss album quite a bit. I kicked it off with Fleetwood Mac’s “Gypsy” to set the mood of the book. It’s pretty much the soundtrack to a then 14-year-old Bree having run away.

When she stumbles upon The Wet Mermaid and walks into the strip club, “American Woman” is playing. This song is required for all biker gatherings. I’m pretty sure it’s an unwritten rule. This is the first time Bree has a run-in with Bastard, and it won’t be the last.

As Mercy searches for Bree in the present, both of their past selves grapple with everything they know exploding.

Mercy struggles to believe the evil things his lifelong friend Bastard does, hoping to rescue him from the darkness before it swallows both of them and the club they built.

Bree is alone in the world, reeling after a shocking event that sent her running. She’s convinced Mercy and the others to let her stay, but she doesn’t really belong.

Not that she belongs anywhere or to anyone, not anymore.

To keep Bree safe from Bastard, Mercy pretends to marry her, making her forever off limits. But he can’t keep her safe from herself, no more than he can stop the fire burning inside him.

Being fake married only brings them closer. Bree’s balm soothes the pain in Mercy’s bones, and when he tells her the truth about Bastard, she urges him to take it to the MC’s table for a vote. Mercy knows she’s right, that Bastard can’t be allowed to hurt anyone else ever again, but it’s soul-crushing, accepting what his best friend’s become.

As everything comes to a head in the past, Mercy searches for Bree in the present. He’ll never break the vows he made to her, but she sure doesn’t make it easy.

Especially when she runs away again just as he closes in.

When they finally reunite, even though they have much to reconcile, it’s clear that they belong together.

It won’t be easy, but now that they’re together, they can heal the past and face the future.

Read Her Mercy

Ebook, serial, and paperback editions of Her Mercy are now available! Read serialized chapters for free on my website. All you need is a valid email address. You can also purchase the ebook or paperback through your favorite retailer.

Her Mercy, Chapter 1

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

Her Mercy, Chapter 17 🔒✉️

I made vows, vows I don’t intend to break. For better or worse. I made Bree a promise, one I intend to keep every time she runs away. Because I know my wife, and I know it’s not really me she’s running from.

It’s herself.

Catch Up Her Mercy, Chapter 1 Her Mercy, Chapter 2 Her Mercy, Chapter 3 Her Mercy, Chapter 4 Her Mercy, Chapter 5 Her Mercy, Chapter 6 Her Mercy, Chapter 7 Her Mercy, Chapter 8  Her Mercy, Chapter 9  Her Mercy, Chapter 10  Her Mercy, Chapter 11  Her Mercy, Chapter 12  Her Mercy, Chapter 13  Her Mercy, Chapter 14  Her Mercy, Chapter 15  Her Mercy, Chapter 16  Part 2: The War HeroChapter 17Now

I cross the Hampton city line just as the sky unloads. Torrents of rain spill down on me, soaking through my clothing, cloaking the road in front of me. I veer to the side of the road, the Softail wavering. It splashes through a puddle, dousing me with mud. Then I finally stop.

It’s a bad omen.

I pull out my cell phone, thankful that it was protected by the leather of my cut. I almost didn’t wear my club colors, almost left the piece of leather behind. But come whatever may, I’ll always be a River Reaper. I built this club with my bare hands, breaking my back right alongside Sebastian.

I don’t expect Ravage and the others to let me back in. Not after the stunt I pulled. I think Ravage understands, but the rest of them won’t.

I’m not even sure I understand.

Chasing a woman who doesn’t even want me across the country is desperate, even kind of creepy. She told me to go away, so I should.

I can’t.

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