Series: Gypsy Brothers #1
My father was most certainly NOT an innocent man. As the leader of the Gypsy Brothers MC, he was guilty of many things. But he died for a crime that he didn’t commit, framed by an enemy within who then stole his club and everything he had ever worked to protect.
Including my innocence.
When Dornan Ross framed my father, he set into motion a series of events that could never be undone. My father was murdered by Dornan Ross and his sons when I was fifteen years old.
Before my father died, Dornan and his sons stole my innocence, branded my skin and in doing so, ensured that their lives would be prematurely cut short. That they would suffer.
I’ve just turned twenty-one, and I’m out for blood. I’m out for revenge.
But I didn’t expect to fall for Jase, the youngest brother in the club.
I didn’t expect that he would turn my world upside down, yank my heart out of my chest and ride away into the sunset with it.
Now, I’m faced with an impossible choice – Jase, or avenging my fathers death?
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I am expecting the humming of tattoo guns, but everything is silent. I look around the room, seeing nobody.
“Hello?” I call, waiting for an answer.
“Hi,” a voice behind me says, startling me. I spin around to see Elliot, still looking as gorgeous as he did the last time I saw him, only now more grown-up, and with tattoos covering every visible inch of his skin. He wears a white t-shirt and dark grey dickie shorts, a pair of bright blue sneakers on his feet. His face is the only thing that assures me of who he is.
I study his face and wonder if he knows who I am, then decide he probably doesn’t. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
He immediately looks suspicious. “No. Should I?”
I shake my head, my fake Southern drawl thick on my words. “It doesn’t matter. I came here because I need a tattoo. Everyone says you’re the best.”
He smiles, licking his lips, and I see a flash that I think is a tongue stud. “Come on through,” he says, leading me to one of the hard leather beds. “What kind of tattoo are you after?”
“One to cover a scar,” I say, biting my lip.
He nods, patting the bed. I hoist myself up, studying his face intently. He is the kindest person I have ever met, I think to myself. He truly did risk his life to save mine.
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Where’s your scar?”
I swallow thickly, gather my dress in my fist, and raise it so that he can see.
His face contorts into something tortured. He looks at me, then the scars, then back at me.
“Julz?” he whispers. He takes in my hair, my skin, my blue eyes, my new nose. He steps back as if horrified.
“It’s Samantha, now,” I say, the accent gone, my breath hitching in my throat. “And I need your help.”
#5 Three Years
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