The MC President's Paper Bride.

Sloane's POV "Get out of my house!" Lyle Dempsey threw my suitcase off the porch. It burst open on the wet grass. My clothes spilled out into the rain. "Lyle, please! Please, just let me explain!" "Explain what?" He came down the steps toward me. "That you went through my desk? That you called the bank?" "You took my college money!" I cried. "Six thousand dollars, Lyle. I saved that money for four years. I cleaned motel rooms for that money!" "And who fed you all those years? Who gave you a bed?" He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me close. His breath smelled like beer. "You owed me, girl. Every cent." "I got into school. I was supposed to start in January." "Well, now you're not." He pushed me back so hard I fell. "Get off my property. Show your face here again and I'll finish what I started." He went inside. The door slammed. The lock turned. I sat in the grass with rain running down my face. My cheek burned from the slap. My knee was bleeding through my jeans. I was twenty-two years old. I had forty dollars in my pocket. I had nowhere to go. I packed what I could into the broken suitcase and dragged it down the road. The rain came harder. I walked until I reached the gas station on Junction Avenue. The lights were on, but the store was closed. I stood under the roof to get out of the rain. There was a corkboard on the wall by the ice machine. Old notices. Lost dogs. Used trucks for sale. And one white card, pinned right in the middle. WANTED: LIVE-IN NANNY. ROOM AND BOARD INCLUDED. GOOD PAY. ASK FOR KNOX. Under it was an address. Vanocker Canyon Road. Room and board. A real bed. A door that locked from the inside. I pulled the card off the board and held it to my chest. I did not know then that this one small card would change my whole life. I just knew it was the first door that had opened for me in a long time. So I started walking. Vanocker Canyon Road wound up into the Black Hills. The town lights disappeared behind me. Tall pine trees closed in on both sides. My suitcase wheel broke halfway up the hill, so I carried it. My arms burned. My feet were numb. It was close to midnight when I found the house. It sat alone at the end of a long gravel drive. Big. Dark wood and gray stone. Light glowed in the lower windows. Eight motorcycles were parked in a row near the garage. Rain dripped off the chrome. My stomach dropped. I stood at the bottom of the porch steps for a long time. I could not make myself climb them. This is a mistake. Turn around. The front door swung open. A giant of a man stepped out. Black tank top. Leather vest. His arms were thick as tree trunks and covered in ink. A long scar cut through his left eyebrow. He held a beer bottle in one hand. He stared down at me, and I was sure I was about to die. "You lost, girl?" "N-no." I held up the wet card. "I'm here about the nanny job. It says to ask for Knox." "You're looking at him." He took the card and read it. Then he looked at my face. My cheek. My knee. "You walked up the canyon? At midnight? In the rain?" "I didn't have a ride." Knox was quiet for a second. Then he stepped aside. "Get in here." The house was warm. It smelled like coffee and motor oil. Knox shut the door behind me, and I heard the bolt slide into place. He turned, and I saw the back of his vest. A white skull with black wings was stitched into the leather. Above it, in red letters, BLACKTHORN REAPERS. Below it, one word. STURGIS. My whole body went cold. Every person in Sturgis knew that name. Even the tourists who came for the rally every August learned it fast. Bar owners paid them. Cops left them alone. And the man at the top of the Blackthorn Reapers was the one name people only said in a whisper. "Is this... is this your club?" "No. This is Boss's house." Knox crossed his arms. "Let's get something clear. Boss needs a nanny for his son. Not a wife. Not a girlfriend. Not a warm body for his bed. You hear me?" "I hear you." "I'm serious. Boss is a good-looking man. Women walk in here and lose their heads. Don't you get any ideas." A small laugh almost slipped out of me. The last thing I wanted was another man. Another man with heavy hands and a short temper. I had just walked away from one. "You don't have to worry about that," I said. "I won't get any ideas." Knox looked at me a long moment, then grunted. "Good. This way." He led me down a narrow hallway. Old photos of motorcycles hung on the walls. At the end of the hall, a door stood half open. A loud crash came from inside. Then a scream. I looked through the gap. A man in a torn shirt was on his knees. His nose was bleeding onto the floor. Another man stood over him, tall and broad, his sleeves pushed to his elbows. He shook out his right hand like it stung. "Who sent you?" the tall man asked. His voice was low and calm. Too calm. "Nobody, man, I swear—" The tall man turned his head, and I saw his face. Sharp jaw. Dark beard. Hard gray eyes. I had seen that face before. In the newspaper, the morning after a bar fire on Lazelle Street. Under a headline I still remembered. Local Biker Boss Questioned, Released. Rafe Calder. Knox pulled the door shut. "Boss has some business to take care of," he said. "Don't take it personal." I gave a stiff little nod. My mouth was too dry to talk. Knox handed me a towel and a black hoodie. "Bathroom's there. Change. Dining room's at the end of the hall." I changed fast. The hoodie hung down to my thighs. I washed the blood off my knee and stared at my face in the mirror. Red cheek. Wet hair. Scared eyes. It is just a job, I told myself. Do not mess this up. In the dining room, a long table made of rough wood stood under an iron light. At the far end sat a little boy in dinosaur pajamas. Dark curls. Big gray eyes. A bowl of chicken noodle soup sat in front of him. It was not even touched. Across from him sat Rafe Calder. But he was not the man from the hallway anymore. His shoulders were slumped. His hair was a mess, like he had been pulling at it. There was a tiny green dinosaur sticker stuck to his knuckle, right over the scrape. "Eli. Buddy. Three spoons. That's all I'm asking." The boy pushed the bowl away. "Two spoons, then." Eli turned his whole body to face the wall. "Come on, kid. You haven't eaten since yesterday." Rafe dropped his head into his hands. "What do you want me to do? Tell me. I'll do it." The boy did not answer. He did not even look at him. I stood in the doorway and watched. Five minutes ago, this man had a stranger bleeding on his floor. The whole town was scared of him. And a little boy in dinosaur pajamas had him on his knees. It was almost funny. He could handle traitors and enemies and men who lied to his face. But he could not get one spoon of soup into his own son. Knox cleared his throat. "Boss. The nanny's here." Rafe lifted his head. His gray eyes landed on me. I forgot how to breathe. Knox had not lied. He was good-looking. But it was the kind of good-looking that made you want to run. I made myself stand still and look back at him. His eyes moved over my wet hair. My red cheek. My bruised wrist sticking out of the sleeve. His jaw went tight. Then it was gone, like a door closing. This was not a trick. A man like Rafe Calder did not need to trick a broke girl with a broken suitcase. "Name," he said. "Sloane Mercer." "Sloane Mercer." He said it like he was putting it away somewhere to keep. Then he pushed the bowl of soup across the table until it stopped in front of me. "Your turn."