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This book is for my readers who didn't learn the first time that it's dangerous to pick up a sexy, tatted convict off the side of the road. Ride or Die!
I don’t have kids to worry about, but I have a wife that I care for at least a little. If she died in a car accident, I’d be a bit sad—I like her enough to possibly even miss her—but if she dies because of a revenge hit, I’d feel fucking guilty.
She’s bent over the kitchen table, a man standing behind her and thrusting into her. Worse? The man thrusting behind her is my fucking brother.
“My wife, Karson? Really?”
“She’s cheating on you!” “Clearly,” I snap.
Karson coughs. “No! Well, yes. But I mean before me.” “Explain what the fuck you’re talking about, and do it before I lose my fucking temper more than I already have.”
“Paulina has been fucking around on you for months. I was here for one thing.” He lifts his shirt to expose his favorite blade on his hip. “To kill her for you.”
“Did you trip and fall into her, dick first? What part of killing her involved doing this?”
“I thought it would be fun to slit her throat while I was fucking her. I swear it was just meant to be payback, Gentry! If you don’t believe me, look at her phone!”
Maybe he meant to kill her, but he didn’t have to fuck her first.
We didn’t end up as murder-obsessed contract killers because we had happy childhoods filled with family dinners and trauma-free game nights. We’ve been through hell together, and Karson came out worse than I did.
Because we’re all we have at the end of the day, and nothing will come between us.
“Too pretty of a girl to be out here on the streets,”
“Maybe I’ll take you off these streets, baby,” he says through a frustrated groan. “Make you my pretty little project. But first, show me what you can do with your mouth.” Maybe New York won’t be so bad after all.
What landed me in prison was a case of bad timing and empty pockets.
Instead of working for a large payout, we worked for a gamble. The buyer paid George, George gave us the details, and we got to take whatever we wanted from the scene.
I thought we’d harken back to our teenage years and do a quick robbery. That quick robbery turned into six long years in a cell for me.
We were called the “Kursed” brothers.
“Violence is always the answer.”
“I don’t think you understand. Either you take him with you and keep him on a short leash or we’ll hang him from one.”
“Fine, I’ll take him with me.” What could go fucking wrong?
The Kursed brothers are back in business.
I rub a hand down old track marks on my arm and think about when Mickey met me for the first time outside that bus station. He took me in. Fed me. Drugged me up and made me his. The chains on my wrists and ankles are invisible, but they still bind me in place.
If I leave and the withdrawal doesn’t kill me, he will.
Even if I somehow wanted to belong in some weird, doped-up harem, Mickey would find me and make sure the saying “if I can’t have you, no one can” rings true.
Either way, we’re both exponentially fucked in the head.
“If you leave, Leana, I will find you. Do you hear me?” he screams, the alcohol tainting his words. “I will find you and I’ll fucking kill you!”
I am forever running from abusers.
It’s still better than home, I remind myself. And it is. Sleeping under an overpass that smells like piss and asphalt after a heavy rain is exponentially better than being beaten and used.
me. I fucking love doing hits. If I were stuck at a day job, I’d probably hang myself and be real dramatic about it before I do. I just love killing. Was born to do it.
“I don’t want trouble,”
“Unfortunately, trouble is exactly what you’ve got,”
“It’s not even my ride. I took it.”
“What do we have here, G? Seems like we caught a little thief.”
“Do you know what we do to thieves?” “Kill them?” I say. The driver’s deep voice echoes through the SUV, feeling louder with my eyes closed. His words are silky smooth. “No. We take them along for the ride.”
Life has dealt me multiple shitty hands, but I’m forced to sit at the table and keep betting.
“Two weirdos and a dope-sick girl on a road trip.”
It would certainly split me in half, I think, and my cheeks blaze hot.
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a cock before,”
“Most strangers don’t make a habit of shoving their morning wood in my face, so you’ll have to excuse my fucking surprise,”
“If I wanted to see your tits, I’d have seen them by now,” he says. “Is that a threat?”
“Maybe.”
ache. I wanted to fuck the ever-loving hell out of her back at the hotel. I still do. But it would take more than a beautiful face and a nice pair of tits to get me to break my abstinence streak.
“You’re brothers?” “Blood,” Karson quips,
“Watch your mouth,” I growl in her ear. “Unless you’re going to open your mouth and do something more useful with it, I’m kindly asking you to shut the fuck up and stop making this more complicated than it has to be.”
“Wanderer, you have my permission to rip his dick off if it’s out,” I goad.
“Wanderer? Nice nickname he gave you, thief,”
I can’t deny that I’m sexually frustrated, and as precarious as my situation is, having to look at a double dose of eye candy for days hasn’t helped. One is certifiable and the other is an enigma, but they’re both attractive as fuck.
“Get dressed in front of me,” he says. “I liked it.”
“You gave Karson shit for being a creep and that is creepy,”
