The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’d had that effect on her body. Even after he’d turned his back on her after her father went to prison, no other man had invaded her fantasies.
    When he released Gordon, she took a step back. The last thing she needed was for Stake to catch her spying. Watching him drop money at Gordon’s feet enraged her. How many times had she prayed that Stake cared enough to make sure she and her mom had enough food or money for the electric bill after her father was sent to prison? Smash and Stake had been best friends for years, yet he’d found it easy to forget that fact the minute Smash had been put behind bars.
    Halfway down the porch steps, Stake stopped and stared directly at her.
    She let the bed sheet fall into place. She didn’t have time to think about him. It wouldn’t do any good. Like all Kings, he was the enemy.

 
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
    Stake sat on his back porch and stared out over the landscape. There wasn’t much to look at other than brown grass and stubby trees as far as the eye could see, but that’s what he liked most about his place. There was a degree of solitude in the nothingness that he hadn’t found anywhere else, and with a blank slate in front of him, his mind had nowhere to go but to the shit he needed to figure out.
    Some of his brothers went to the club to get away from their old ladies or children. In his younger days, he’d found a certain amount of peace just hanging with the others, but at some point, he’d changed. He was only thirty-eight, which was still relatively young, even in biker years, but the shit that went down at the club was getting old. How many rank pussies could a guy fuck before his dick fell off? There were a few bitches at the club who were nice enough to talk to, but other than the occasional blowjob when he was desperate, he preferred non-club pussy. The ongoing bullshit with Rachel was proof that if he wanted to find a good woman who wasn’t batshit crazy or suffering from stalker-like tendencies, he’d need to look outside the club.
    He reached for his beer. Nope, the club wasn’t where he found his peace, it was right where he sat, looking at everything and nothing, and at the moment, all he could think about were those damn kaleidoscope eyes. Fuck. After the shit Ellie had pulled after Smash’s death, helping Santana in any way would be the same as going against the club. It was something Cecil had reminded him of before they’d left Gordon’s place, but he couldn’t get those damn eyes off his fucking mind.
    Despite her bravado, she’d been damned scared of Gordon. Her fear was palpable, like an injured cat curled in the corner ready to strike at anything that came near her. He didn’t blame her. Gordon had let his badge and association with the club go to his head, and Stake wouldn’t put it past the sonofabitch to go after Santana again just to prove he could. The question was, what was Stake willing to do about it? How far would he go for a woman he wasn’t supposed to associate with?
    “Christ!” He stood and took another drink of his beer. The sight of Santana clutching that damn broken bottle of grape soda nearly stole his breath. It was as if it had meant everything to her, and from the look of the other groceries, it probably had.
    His heavy boot scraped against a nail head, sticking up from the porch floor. Beer in hand, he opened the back door, but stopped himself before walking into the house. He drained his beer in two gulps before stepping inside. Since moving out on his own, he’d adopted a very strict rule about not drinking in the house. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon to see his mom and whatever man she was sharing a bed with passed out on the couch—sometimes dressed, sometimes naked. A beer or two after a long day was fine, but in south Texas, there was never a reason not to have that bottle on the back porch.
    When he’d built the two bedroom cabin, he’d purposely left off the traditional front porch, instead choosing