Royal Bastards MC: Huntsville, AL

As president of my MC, I've always had to hide a part of who I am. I was fine with that until he walked into my life. Now, I can't shove that half of myself into the dark anymore. My club won't understand and the woman I want definitely won't get it, but what choice do I have? I want them both and I'm done with not taking what I want. Yeah, I'm savage enough to screw the rules to get what I want and I want them. Both of them—and I won't settle for less. You can't control who you love but sometimes, it's savage enough to make its own heat.

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and being stuck with a name like Whiskey was never easy, but none of that ever mattered much to me. Not until I met her. The kids used to call me white trash—WT for short, but I turned that nasty nickname into my f--king mantra after I joined the Air Force. My only regret was falling in with the wrong group of men. But, that's how I met her and I wouldn't trade what we had together for anything except maybe another chance.

Marcos Diego was held against his will for over a year, and the only thing that kept him going were daily visits to his cell by Sister Valentina. She had come by the Camillo compound every day, offering him conversation, prayer, and even her shy smile when he told her a dirty joke. She was beautiful, with her caramel-colored eyes that looked at him with such compassion, kindness, and dare he believe it—longing. She was only twenty, just a girl compared to his almost forty years, but when she looked at him, he wanted to do things with her that a man should never want to do with a nun.

Having your old Army buddy call you and open with, "Hey—remember that favor you owe me for saving your ass? Well, I need to collect," wasn't a promising start to a conversation. When Ratchet's friend, Mason, called to say he needed his help, he was all in. Mason was right, Ratchet owed him and he'd do whatever he needed to pay his buddy back—including risking his life. Hearing that his MC's rival had Mason's little sister was only a bonus because that would mean that he'd be able to kick some Dragon ass to help get her back.

Hawk was supposed to be dead, and if that was what everyone from his old team believed, that was fine by him. It was safer for all of them if they didn't find out that he was alive, but he couldn't stay away from her, especially at this time of year.

Charley Montgomery knew that putting her hope in her father's "prize fighter" wasn't her best option, but it was her only one. Her father managed up-and-coming boxers and when JB Walker started losing fights, trouble landed on their doorstep. Men seemed to get a little nasty when a lot of money was on the line, and she was quickly learning that her choices were to either take a beating or learn to fight. Who better to show her how to throw a punch than JB? Her only question was—could she trust that he wouldn't turn her over to the men coming for them, just to save his little sister's life.

Mason Zane had let himself get too close to pretty, little Dizzy Jean and when he stepped foot into the diner she worked at, he broke all the damn rules. Her father, who was also his boss at the FBI, hired him to keep an eye on her, but that was the extent of his mission—at least it was supposed to be. Mason went into that diner every day that he knew Dizzy was working, always asking to sit in her section. Mason didn't care if his boss found out that he wanted his daughter.

Demon was itching to get his hands on Luna's sweet ass. Every time she talked back to him or dared to defy him, he wanted to put his hands all over her delicious curves, but he needed to remember that she was his buddy's little sister, and keeping her safe was his assignment. Being an enforcer for the Royal Bastards had its perks and one of those perks was staring daggers at him right now. God, she was sexy as hell, and keeping his itching palms to himself was going to prove impossible.

His life was mayhem, but Brandon Jean planned on changing that. When he found out that the Ghosts had his FBI partner, he knew what he had to do. He'd need his club's help and the Royal Bastards would never let him down, and neither would his Prez—Savage. Getting Maven back was easy but keeping her safe was another story. He just needed to keep his dick in check, and he'd be able to keep his head in the game.

Sure, he was dressed as cupid, running around Huntsville, delivering singing telegrams, but it paid his rent and tuition. He was only one year out from graduating with his degree, and then, he'd get a job and start working toward his dream of opening his own bike shop. The only problem he had now was keeping his secret of delivering singing telegrams from the rest of the guys in his club because they would never let him live it down.

Myles Legend was used to the guys in the Royal Bastards giving him crap about being the youngest in the club. He had just patched over from an RBMC chapter in California, and he had the whole beach bum vibe down pat. He owned Uncle Sam a few more years and was serving them in Huntsville, Alabama at the Redstone Arsenal. Finding out the club's Prez, Savage was married to a man and a woman gave him hope that someday, he'd be able to find that same happiness for himself.