Today I wanted to bring you a little piece I have that’s coming back on the shelves. It’s all m/m and in truth was the 4th in a cross over from another one of my pseudos. This one is gritty, taking my love of bikers into the world of the mafia, but while there’s plenty of angst, there’s also a bit of humor smack in the middle. I think you’re going to adore my hero as he searches for a brother who may have perished at the hands of the bad guys. Take a peek and enjoy… Along with the new cover art from Toby Sullivan. This will go live tomorrow.
“If you think you’re ever going to see your brother alive again, you’re dead wrong. The asshole is going to pay for his betrayal and do you know how we deal with snitches? Let’s just say there won’t be anything left of his body to serve up for Thanksgiving dinner.” Ugly laughter filtered through the phone.
“You lay a fucking hand on him and so help me God I will hunt you down like a Goddamn dog and slice and dice you. Do you hear me asshole?” He sucked in his breath as he clenched his fist, every cell in his body electrified with rage. No matter what it took. He was going to hunt the bastard down. The fucker would see his place in Hell.
“What an interesting thought. I just might take you up on that. You see, we don’t take kindly to assholes who think they’re gonna best us. You know what we do with them? We feed ‘em to the sharks. Only the best for mother fuckers. You stand in our way you die.”
Fucking asshole. Your time will come. The scathing words rang in his ears like a knife slicing through his heart. Angry and ready for blood, he could barely keep his mind on riding down the two-lane road. There was no doubt what he was going to have to do – even if people died in the process. Duty and honor. They were two words he’d come to believe in during the early years of his life and now, he wasn’t convinced what they meant any longer. After all, he wasn’t certain he had any honor left or if he was going to allow the concept into his body or soul. Death. Yeah. That was more like what he was craving. Right now all he wanted to do was crush those who would hurt his brother.
Dragging his mind out of hell, Taggard O’Neil, Rough Rider to all his friends, eased the Harley to a stop on what appeared to be a deserted road. Wretched thoughts slithered into his mind as he cut the engine. He was enraged, bone tired and ready for rest and relaxation. Unfortunately this trip wasn’t about anything to do with leisure. The ride from state to state, seeking information and perhaps his personal sanity, was about revenge. And about blood.
As he tugged off his helmet and gazed around the lush countryside, he inhaled deeply. There was little comfort right now. Taggard sighed and drank in the atmosphere. He had to admit Virginia was beautiful in the summer time. From the green grass and dense foliage, the entire state seemed to be infused with vibrant color. Unfortunately, being pissed off forced him to see more primal colors and little else. He clenched his fist, bringing his hand to his mouth, as he attempted to calm his ragged breathing. Right. If he managed to save his brother he was gonna kick the fucker’s ass.
Grunting, he kicked down the stand and climbed off the bike, brushing his massive hand through his sweaty strands of hair. It had been a damn long ride. Exhausted, he glanced at his watch and them looked toward the road, realizing he had only a few miles left on his journey, his fact-finding expedition. At least he could grab a shower and a shave, maybe catch some dinner before the real work began. Bagging and tagging the bad guys wasn’t his usual weekend jaunt, but right now he had little else he could do and going to the cops wasn’t an option – not if he wanted to see his brother alive again.
Tipping his head back, he breathed in the humid air and tried to figure out the best course of action. Finding his brother might be considered tougher than looking for a needle in a haystack, but he was determined not to leave the southern state without the wayward boy in tow – one way or the other. Coming up against the Scachi brothers wasn’t the best idea given the face the mafia family pretty well owned the seedier parts of Virginia, but he had no choice. Logan was all the family he had. While he hadn’t come up against the likes of the mafia before, his days as a trained killer in the military should give him a leg up. Should was the operative word and one he hated to admit he feared. Taggard was all about getting things done. Period.
He pulled out the only piece of information he’d gathered about his brother’s supposed whereabouts and shook his head. “Damn you, fucker.”
Taggard had to grin before snarling and shaking his head. The kid could get into trouble without even batting an eyelash. Fifteen years separated the brothers, and in truth he’d been more like a father figure to the slightly built and highly intellectual man since their father had run off to parts unknown with a Dixie darling in a short shirt and a nasty, vixen attitude. Too bad Logan couldn’t keep his head out of his ass. There was no doubt the kid was in way over his head this time. Why the hell he hadn’t seen the shit hitting the fan with his brother bothered the hell out of him. Then again, he’d been spending way too much time with his business, or maybe lack thereof, since returning from his last stint in Afghanistan.
Why he’d anticipated boosting his dwindling business into a successful one after retiring from the military he’d never know, but things were getting dicey in his world. Logan had tried to help during the years Taggard had served his country, but the kid just couldn’t cut it. Or maybe he’d been expecting too much. Even the trip to hopefully locate his brother was being financed by credit cards. His life wasn’t what he hoped it would be. Taggard had a dying business, a house under water and no love life. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
Feel the Burn…
Taggard O’Neil (Rough Rider by nickname) was on a mission – find his brother and bring him back home before he ended up in a body bag. Logan was talented artist and had fallen into the wrong crowd. After all, informing on the mob didn’t keep you alive to tell the tale. At least that’s what he’d been led to believe. Having found a single slip of paper with a location somewhere in the heart of Richmond Virginia, The Flamingo Rustler seemed to be his destination location. The mysterious words would forever burn into the back of his mind. Arriving on his Harley and ready for a hard time, he was surprised to find an establishment welcoming him with open arms. With the help of a group of burley bikers who frequented the bar, he happened on a tattoo shop, the very center of Logan’s disappearance.
Rusty Brimmer was the local badass and owner of Body Art, the hippest tat shop in town. A harsh taskmaster to his employees, he kept strictly to himself – until Taggard walked into his shop. There was something about the man Rusty didn’t trust but then again couldn’t resist. His damaged past kept him on edge, the myriad of reasons damning. A rouse had been created and one both men were determined to figure out. He refused to allow anything or anyone to tarnish his reputation, or drag him back into his private Hell. And so he was forced to work with a man he barely knew. Turning the tables, Taggard and Rusty developed a plan, one that should flush out the man they thought a betrayer. Another secret was hidden, buried in the bowels of the bar and suddenly both men were embroiled in a web of deceit. Facing the ugly truth was too much for one man, one who could lose all that he knew. When faced with honesty, would either accept their jaded destiny and could the prospect of a future bring them closer together?
I so hope you enjoyed.
Kisses and spanks