WED TO THE BIKER: Skeleton Kings 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.

  WED TO THE BIKER: Skeleton Kings 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.

  ***

  Sign up for the Zoey Parker mailing list to stay up-to-date on my latest releases, giveaways, and exclusive content. New subscribers receive a FREE bad boy romance novella!

  Click here to join: http://dl.bookfunnel.com/22mfxgmiow

  Contents

  WED TO THE BIKER: Skeleton Kings 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

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Fourty-One

  Chapter Fourty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred

  Chapter One Hundred One

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  Epilogue

  WED TO THE DOM: Heaven’s Veil 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

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  GIFT FROM THE HITMAN: The Petrov Mafia

  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

  Epilogue

  Books by Zoey Parker

  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)

  HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

  HIS PROPERTY: Iron Bandits MC (A Bad Boy Baby Romance)

  UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

  UNTAMED: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  UNDRESSED: Soul Catchers MC

  UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

  Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

  OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)

  HARDCORE: Storm MC

  A Price to Pay

  Take Me, Outlaw

  Break Me, Outlaw

  Stolen

  Overdosed

  Ravage

  Bounty

  Trouble

  Monster

  Zoey Parker Mailing List

  WED TO THE BIKER: Skeleton Kings MC

  By Zoey Parker

  I PUT MY INK ON HIM. HE PUT HIS CLAIM ON ME.

  It started with a tattoo.

  It won’t end until all of me belongs to him.

  The biker came in wanting some fresh ink on his chest. />
  But it doesn’t take long before he wants more.

  More of me, that is.

  My taste. My body. My heart. My soul.

  The problem is, Max is from the wrong side of the tracks.

  He’s seen things, done things, that make my blood run cold.

  There’s no future with a man like him.

  There can’t be.

  There won’t be.

  If I let him have me…

  Everything I love will burn.

  So why can’t I say no?

  Chapter One

  Brittany took a deep breath, inhaling the scent around her. She loved how the craft store in town smelled, loved how peaceful and tranquil it was within its aisles. Moving slowly, she admired all the different shades of paint. They had every color of the rainbow, but even more than that, colors she’d never even thought about before. She felt like a kid in a candy store. Brimming with excitement, she placed a few of the brighter colors into her shopping cart along with the artist’s notepad she’d already picked up.

  This was Brittany’s weekly release – a time when she could just be herself and be soothed by the world around her. Every Tuesday morning, like clockwork, she’d cycle into town and stop by the large craft store beside the local Walmart. If the sun was shining, it made the trip even better. She’d linger among the aisles for as long as she could before eventually paying for her purchases and cycling back to the home she shared with her brother. The home they had inherited from their parents.

  Checking her paint-splattered watch, Brittany sighed and pushed a loose strand of dark hair back behind her ear. She’d lingered in the store a little too long. If she didn’t leave in the next ten minutes, she risked her brother, Zack, getting in before she did, and that was never good.

  With quick, urgent steps Brittany approached the checkout.

  “Morning, Brittany,” Samantha, the kind-faced plump woman in the bright red smock grinned at her.

  “Morning, Samantha,” Brittany smiled back. She wished that she had the luxury of time to partake in their usual morning pleasantries. She’d ask about Samantha’s children, and they’d discuss the weather from the week before. But time was no longer on Brittany’s side.

  “I’m in kind of a hurry today,” Brittany told her apologetically as she frantically shoved her items into a paper bag.

  “Oh, honey, don’t you go rushing now. ‘More haste, less speed,’ that’s what my mother always used to say.”

  “Hopefully I’ll have some more time with you next week,” Brittany said as she handed the cashier her cash. She always had to pay in cash, never on a card. Any purchases made on a card could be monitored. But any cash she got her hands on was her own to spend as she liked. And she loved nothing more than buying art essentials. On sunny days, she’d just be out in the back yard beneath the weeping willow and waste the day away sketching in her notebook. Lately, it was the only thing which bought her any joy.

  “You’re too young and pretty to let that brother of yours keep you locked up like a prisoner,” Samantha clucked, handing Brittany her receipt.

  Every week Samantha would tell Brittany how she needed to get away from her brother, how she needed to live her own life. The whole town had an opinion on Brittany and her brother, the poor little kids over on Brixton Road, who lost their parents too young.

  Brittany had been twelve when they died, Zack fifteen. He’d dropped out of school and taken any work he could find. He’d saved her from a life in the foster care system. And now that Brittany was eighteen she felt like she couldn’t just walk out on her brother when he’d scarified so much to keep her in school, to keep some normalcy in her life.

  “I’m not a prisoner,” Brittany explained with a thin smile. “Zack is just…strict.”

  “Hmm,” Samantha looked unimpressed but her anger melted into a warm smile none the less.

  “Well, you have yourself a good day, Brittany. And make sure you pop by next Tuesday to see me.”

  “I will,” Brittany promised as she headed for the door. Outside the sun was burning bright as she hurried over to her bike, pleased with her new purchases.

  She pedaled hard and fast back through town, desperate to make it home before Zack did. He’d been out all night, working. She had no idea what he did. He went out on his motorbike at dusk and rarely returned before dawn. She assumed he did shift work somewhere, maybe at one of the factories just outside of town. He made good money. She was always finding wads of cash around the house and on occasion she slipped a twenty-dollar bill from the pile to fund her art habit, Zack didn’t even notice. It was as if he didn’t even know how much money he had.

  Brittany cycled through the small town which had always been her home with the wind blowing through her short dark hair. The familiar streets looked shabbier than they had when she was a child. It was as if when her parents died the sheen had come off the entire world and she was forced to see things for what they really were.

  Finally, Brittany reached Brixton Road, a street lined with small wooden bungalows, some in better condition than others. She remembered on bright mornings how her father would turn on the sprinklers and let Brittany and Zack dash beneath the spurts of water until they cooled down. Now the lawn outside their house was overgrown and thick with weeds. Zack was always promising to get out and mow it, but he never did. Their lawnmower had been pawned long ago, back when times were leaner.

  Dismounting her bike, Brittany pushed it up towards the car porch and then stopped. Zack’s bright red motorcycle was parked next to the side of the house, heat still radiating from the engine and causing the air to bend.

  “Dammit,” Brittany cursed under her breath. She was too late. She’d failed to beat her brother home. She considered hiding her shopping in a nearby bush. The bag was in her hand and she was about to stoop down and conceal it when the mesh door of the house clattered open revealing Zack behind it. Brittany instantly straightened and remained frozen before him, like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he snarled angrily at her. Brittany could feel eyes upon her as neighbors pulled back their curtains in the hope of witnessing a heated exchange. She refused to give them such a show. Pushing back her shoulders, she confidently approached the house and pushed past Zack.

  Inside, the house was dark and cool, thanks to the ceiling fan which was forever rotating above the small lounge. They’d once had a proper air conditioning system but that, like the lawn mower, had been pawned long ago.

  “I said where have you been?” Zack reached for her shoulder and spun her around to face him.

  Like his sister, he had dark hair and bright blue eyes which were vivid even in the darkness of the house. But he stood a good foot taller than Brittany, and he looked down upon her now with anger distorting his chiseled, handsome features. Brittany was about to respond when she noticed the dark bruise clouding around his left eye.

  “Hey, what happened?” she pointed towards it and Zack flinched. “You get in an accident at work?”

  “Yeah,” he replied gruffly, turning away so that she could no longer see the bruise. “A box fell on me.”

  “Want me to take a look at it?”

  “No!”

  “Seriously, Zack,” Brittany strode away from him and slung her shopping bag down onto the sofa.

  “You’re always getting hurt at work. Last week it was that cut on your hand, before that you broke a rib. I swear you should just take out a lawsuit against your employer. No job should be this hazardous.”

  “Just drop it,” Zack ordered briskly. “Where were you?”

  He was back on his mission of interrogation.

  “I went shopping,” Brittany sighed. It was hardly as if she’d committed some terrible crime, which was how Zack was trying to make her feel.

  “Shopping?” he echoed incredulously.

  “Yes, shopping,” Brittany gestured angrily at the bag containing her art supplies. “I needed a few things so I cycled i
nto town. I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up about it.”

  “You’re supposed to stay at home,” Zack declared through clenched teeth. “How many times, Brittany? You stay here!”

  “Like a prisoner?” Brittany shrieked, clutching her bag tightly against her chest. Suddenly she wanted to be as far away from Zack as possible, which meant either retreating to the yard or her small bedroom. She chose the yard.

  She started stomping through the open plan living room and kitchen towards the sliding doors, which led out into the modest backyard. Here the lawn was more tamed than the front yard thanks to Brittany’s backbreaking efforts with some garden shears she found in the garage. She lacked the stamina to do both lawns.

  “Brittany!” Zack boomed her name with such force that some of the glasses in a nearby cabinet shook.

  “Zack,” she sighed as her shoulders slumped, and she turned back, one hand resting on the handle for the sliding doors.

  “I love you. I love everything you’ve done for me. But I’m eighteen, it’s about time I started having some sort of life.”

  “Don’t I care for you?” Zack demanded angrily. “Don’t I buy you food, keep a roof over your head?”

  “Yes,” Brittany admitted. “But I’m not a pet dog. I need more than food and shelter. You should let me go out and find a job, that way we’re both taking care of the house, and you’re not shouldering the burden alone.”

  “I’m managing just fine!”

  “Are you?” Brittany cried heatedly. “Because you’re always beaten up and in the foulest of moods.”

  “You’re being ungrateful!” Zack barked. “Do you have any idea the lengths I go to in order to keep us safe?”

  “Safe?” Brittany repeated the word, frowning. “Safe from what?”