Buying My Bride: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Wild Aces MC) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  Buying My Bride: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Wild Aces MC) copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

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  Contents

  Buying My Bride: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Wild Aces MC)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Don’t Ruin My Baby: The Predators MC

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Don’t Take My Baby: Twisted Ghosts MC

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Books by Zoey Parker

  Don’t Ruin My Baby: The Predators MC

  Don’t Take My Baby: Twisted Ghosts MC

  Don’t Hurt My Baby: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

  Don’t Touch My Baby: Ricci Family Mafia

  Bearing His Seed: Anarchy’s Horsemen MC

  Taking His Seed: The Jagged Rebels MC

  Convict’s Baby: Black Dogs MC

  Wed to the Biker: Skeleton Kings MC

  Wed to the Dom: Heaven’s Veil MC

  Gift from the Bad Boy: Dark Knights MC

  Killian: The O'Donnell Mafia

  Gunner: The Immortal Devils MC

  Bought by the Bad Boy: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Starstruck: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Destroyers MC)

  His Possession: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Vicious Thrills MC)

  Zoey Parker Mailing List

  Buying My Bride: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Wild Aces MC)

  By Zoey Parker

  I bought her untouched. But she won’t stay that way for long.

  Allison was exactly what I wanted.

  A pure bride…

  Mine for the right price.

  She thought this was all a sick prank.

  But a bad boy biker like me never jokes.

  I’m deadly serious.

  She’s going to be my woman.

  My wife.

  And soon…

  The mother of my babies.

  She’s too innocent for me. But that won’t stop me from taking her.

  Chapter One

  Allison

  Riley’s was packed. It was just one of those nights where everyone and their mother had to have the classic, greasy diner food. It was good, because it meant I might get enough in tips to actually put something aside in the hospital savings jar in addition to making the payment to my increasingly impatient landlord. Unfortunately, it also meant I was going to be exhausted.

  Not that that was anything new.

  I tightened the strings of my apron where they’d gotten loose and checked my cleavage one more time in the mirror. Although Christel told me every night I’d get more tips if I showed a little more of the ‘ladies,’ I just couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. That was what got you the wrong kind of attention – and it was how I’d met Shae.

  James, the cook, served up the four meals I was waiting for and I snatched them up quickly. They were haphazardly balanced across both of my arms. I went out onto the floor to deposit them, sharing a quick nod with Christel as she headed back for her next order.

  The group at the table was made up of college students. I had only four orders, despite there being six of them, but I was pretty sure one was sharing with another and the last one was just not eating. Ever.

  Give that girl a sandwich, I thought unkindly. Nights like these always frazzled me toward the end.

  I put the plates down, smiling at the group. Four guys, two girls. Not very evenly matched. “Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked them.

  The girls barely paid me any attention, but the young man closest to me leaned forward. “Not off the menu,” he said, grinning slyly. “But what else do you have to offer?”

  That familiar slimy feeling ran down my spine, but my smile didn’t falter. I was used to this type of behavior and, despite being a virgin, I wasn’t dumb enough to miss what he was referring to. Playing like I was, however, would save me and perhaps my tip. I tilted my head to the side, working hard to form that vacant expression that told everyone I was as dumb as a box of rocks.

  “I don’t think James likes it when customers put in requests that aren’t on the menu,” I said with wide eyes. I worked hard to sound innocent, because I needed him to believe that I was just stupid, not mocking. Smiling, I added, “James is the cook.”

  The man’s smile faltered, but he didn’t seem put off by my pretended stupidity. Not good. He scooted to the edge of the booth and I saw his hand move too late. He palmed my backside. I jerked away from him, my smile dropping completely. I noticed one of his friends rolling his eyes and another look embarrassed, but no one did or said anything.

  “C’mon honey, don’t be like that,” he said, scooting closer again so that he could reach for me a s
econd time. I moved away once more and his hand grazed my thigh as a result. “Pretty thing like you? I’m sure you’ve got something tasty to offer.”

  Gross, I thought and took a full step back this time. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, to stop being so sleazy, but I needed this job. My boss wasn’t a complete asshole, but he didn’t like complaining customers. And that was all it would take. One complaint from this jerk and I could lose my job. He could say that I’d been rude, unaccommodating. He could say whatever he wanted.

  That line of reasoning kept my mouth sealed – and the rest of me terrified.

  I was frozen, trying to figure out what to do, when one of the girls finally seemed to get tired of what was going on. “Jesus, Sam, don’t be such a scumbag. She’s obviously not interested.” Turning to me, the petite blonde who didn’t look like she did a lot of eating, offered me a polite smile. “I think this is everything for us. Have your friend bring the check.” She motioned toward Christel and my heart fell a little.

  There goes my tip.

  Not that Christel wouldn’t share with me, but there was no way this group of snotty kids was going to leave anything good now. Especially if the look on Sam’s face was any indication. I forced a smile anyway, then walked away.

  The rest of my night went about like that.

  # # #

  The diner was open late most nights, even Sundays. Mondays were the only nights we got off early, and that was because Riley, the owner’s wife, said no one wanted to go to a diner when there was football on. I didn’t know about all of that, but I was grateful for the reprieves when they came.

  Christel and I had finished up wiping down the booths and the floors. Now we were sitting at the counter, filling up salt shakers and napkin holders. I was exhausted. Between keeping my eyes open and trying not to think about the unfortunate reality of my life, it was a miracle that I hadn’t just crashed on the counter.

  “That guy was a total dick,” Christel said and I knew she was talking about the group of college kids from earlier.

  I let out a sigh. They hadn’t left much of a tip, she told me. A buck apiece. “Yeah, what else is new?”

  “Speaking of total dicks, are you still having problems with Shae?”

  I scrunched up my face, wrinkling my nose. Christel had given me his table the first time he’d come in. Now she felt pretty bad about the whole thing, even though I really didn’t think she was responsible. How was she supposed to know that he was going to turn into such an abusive piece of crap?

  “That bad?” she asked.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I started to screw on the caps to the salt shakers I’d filled. “No, it’s really not that bad,” I lied. She gave me a look that said she didn’t buy it. Sighing again, I gave in. “He keeps showing up at my place.”

  Christel gave me a dark look, clearly not pleased. “Are you crazy? You need to call the cops on him. That’s gotta at least count as stalking or something.”

  We’d been over this about a million times. All the cops could do was give me a piece of paper that said he couldn’t come near me. But what good was a piece of paper if they weren’t around to enforce it? Was I supposed to wait on them every time he showed up? I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what it was. I’d already left him. According to all the movies and books and everything else, that was supposed to be the big thing, right? But they don’t tell you how to fix it when he kept coming back.

  “I told you, all I can do is get a restraining order. And that’ll just make things worse.”

  Christel fell silent, returning to her napkins. I finished with the salt shakers and started putting them back on the tables. The diner had some character to it and not in that gross, greasy way that some of the other places in the area did. This place was classy. Red vinyl bench seats in the booths and matching chairs for the scattered tables. Hardwood tables, not that crappy recycled sawdust they used for the school desks and the cheap furniture you bought from mega stores. The bar wasn’t granite or anything, but it had that nice marbled texture that made it look fancy, and there were pretty glass cases for the pastries and pies.

  It was a nice place and I was kind of fond of it, but I knew that I didn’t want to spend my life here. No one wanted to waste away in some diner.

  “You should move,” Christel said suddenly, taking out what was left of the pies. We couldn’t use them tomorrow, so we ended up splitting them between us. James stopped taking them home with him, because he and his wife were on one of those couple’s diets.

  I took my seat beside her again as she served us up each a slice of apple pie. My favorite. “Move?” I repeated incredulously.

  She nodded, clearly pleased with her newest idea. “Yeah! That way he doesn’t know where you live so he can’t—”

  “He knows where I work,” I interrupted, watching her expression fall. “And besides, I don’t have the money to move. I owe three months of back rent already.” And pretty soon he’s just going to kick me out. I didn’t add that, but it was true. Then I guess I wouldn’t have any choice but to move.

  Christel was quiet for a long moment. We both started in on our pies. Hers was cherry. Gross. When we were about halfway through, she asked in a small voice, “How is Bree?”

  Bree was only sixteen, though she acted like she was thirty already sometimes, but you couldn’t really blame her for that. We both had to grow up fast, it seemed like, and it was hard to stay a kid when you were stuck in a hospital all the time. “She’s hanging in there.”

  “What do the doctors say?”

  I shook my head. “Same thing they’ve been saying. ‘She needs that operation, Miss Gilson, it really can’t wait.’ And ‘How do you want to make your payments, Miss Gilson?’ Like I have any idea how I’m going to make payments.”

  My sister was only sixteen, but she had a bad heart. It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t done drugs, hadn’t driven recklessly and ended up in a terrible accident. She just got the short end of the stick. We found out two years ago and she started living in the hospital when things finally got really bad. These were the sort of things that a parent worried about, but we didn’t have parents anymore. I ended up with sole custody of my baby sister when she was only twelve; I was nineteen. I didn’t know what I was doing, but she needed me to be the adult. So I was.

  “That’s such crap,” Christel told me heatedly. We’d been friends for a long time and she knew Bree as well as anyone. She stopped by for a hospital visit at least twice a week. “They know your situation. They should just give her the damn heart.”

  “Yeah, in a perfect world.”

  We both fell silent then. Neither of us were dumb. Between the tips and the ridiculously low wages, there was no way that I was ever going to save up the million dollars it would cost for Bree’s heart transplant.

  Literally, one million.

  Fifty thousand for the pre-op.

  Eighty for the actual heart.

  Seventy for the physician.

  Thirty for the drugs.

  One hundred and forty for the for the post op.

  Six hundred and fifty thousand for the time in the hospital.

  And did they factor in my rent? The cost for food and utilities? No, of course not. They didn’t think about the time Bree had had to spend in the hospital waiting for the heart or the money I had to throw at them that was supposed to go to my landlord. They didn’t think about the fact that I made about two dollars an hour and the rest was made up through the generosity of others.

  The reality was depressing and not just for me. Bree knew what was happening to her and Christel did, too. That was why my only remaining friend these days nudged me, offering a small smile.

  “Hey, maybe you should just sell your virginity. I heard that model’s went for, like, a billion dollars.” She winked at me. “And it’s not like you’re using yours or anything.”

  She laughed a little, obviously joking, but I froze.

  My virginity?

&
nbsp; A billion dollars?

  Am I crazy… or could that really work?

  “A woman actually sold her virginity?” I asked, a little baffled. I really didn’t think something like virginity was worth much, truth be told. From what everyone else had told me, having sex for the first time was sort of like eating at a fancy restaurant as a kid. Everyone makes a big deal about it, but really all you want is a cheese burger.

  Sam nodded. “Oh, yeah! It was all over the news, huge scandal. She was some Brazilian model, I think. She auctioned it off online – Ink, if you ask me – and got a ton of bids. The highest was a lot of money. I think the actual number was 1.3 million. It was crazy.”

  “Did she actually go through with it?”

  Christel looked over at me, scrutinizing me before answering. Her small mouth tugged down in a slight frown. “Uh, who knows?” she asked and I realized that she had finally noticed my interest. Like, honest interest. She waited a beat, then asked, “You’re not seriously considering it, are you? I mean, I was just kidding.”

  For a second, we both just stared at each other, eyes locked. Then I forced an awkward laugh that I hoped was convincing. “Are you nuts? Of course not!” I told her, waving off her entirely correct suspicions. “That would be, like, prostitution or something. Definitely not okay. What kind of girl do you think I am?”