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  Sentinels MC Rebels, A Bad Boy Sweet Romance, Book 1

  Elana Johnson

  Contents

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  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

  Sneak Peek! VICE Chapter One

  Sneak Peek! HER BAD BOY BEST FRIEND Chapter One

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  About Elana

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  Chapter One

  Tyson Pike stood in the doorway leading to his room, the sight before him turning his stomach. He hated the sight of his motorcycle club, and even thinking that could get him killed.

  The other boys had enjoyed themselves last night at the start-of-summer party. Tyson had made sure everyone had what they needed, especially Daddy, and then he’d disappeared into the woods that surrounded the clubhouse where the members of the Hawks Motorcycle Club lived, drank, partied, and more.

  The “more” spread out in front of Tyson, the vice-president of the club, and a sigh leaked from his mouth. But he ground his teeth together and dug in like the animal he’d been nicknamed for.

  Bulldog found the trash bags in the kitchen—really just a long, galley-style area that separated itself from the main room with a counter. A dozen barstools sat along the length of the wood, and it currently held bottles and cans and red plastic cups.

  Trash first. Bulldog knew that better than almost anyone, as he’d been cleaning up after his brethren in the club for a while now. Yes, Daddy employed a couple of girls to clean, but Bulldog had told them not to come if they valued their freedom. Their virginity. Their easy lives without drugs, without hard men with tattoos and ruthless demands, and without the fear of how they’d ever get away from this place.

  Bulldog had been in with the Hawks for seventeen years now, and at first, he’d enjoyed the thrill of it all. He’d worked hard as a pledge, followed all the rules, and as time had gone on, he’d moved up in the club. Whenever he’d grown tired of the lifestyle, he reminded himself of why he’d joined in the first place.

  To keep his sisters safe. He absolutely couldn’t have JJ or Lila here, doing anything with the men he spent his time with. And with their father out of the picture and their mother in and out of rehab, Tyson would’ve done anything to keep his sisters away from the Hawks.

  Even becoming one himself.

  It was that bulldog tendency inside himself again, making quick and tough decisions at the same time. Decisions that had kept him here for five years longer than he would’ve liked to be.

  He picked up cups, napkins, wrappers, and garbage, the silence in the club grating against his nerves. It was never quiet in the club after noon, but before then, the only noise was that of the furnace in the winter or the air conditioner in the morning.

  In May, neither was running, and the silence would slowly drive Bulldog mad. He left the full trash bag at the end of the bar and stepped around it to the narrow alley between the counter of the kitchen area, which included a sink, range, fridge, and a lot of cupboards.

  He could usually find a box of graham crackers or a bag of chips in the kitchen, but for parties, Daddy employed a cook. Really, it was Rooster’s old lady, but she did make a mean plate of nachos, Bulldog’s favorite food.

  Bulldog fiddled with the volume button on the radio on the shelf above the sink, not wanting to wake anyone. Sure, he had friends here in the club, but he liked almost everyone here better when they were asleep.

  Especially Daddy.

  The music came on low, and Bulldog adjusted it again, facing the huge general room where the bikers hung out, played pool, watched movies, and enjoyed their parties. With a couple of hours of work, it would look like humans lived here instead of wild animals.

  He sang as he wiped, washed, gathered, and hauled trash out to the Dumpster on the side of the industrial building Daddy had designed and built with the drug money the club earned moving marijuana from the US to Canada.

  Bulldog hated the drug—all drugs—since seeing what it could lead to with his own mother. But by the time he’d learned what the Hawks really did behind closed doors and after dark, he’d been in too deep.

  You’ll find a way to get out, he promised himself as he went back inside the clubhouse, the morning still quite chilly though the sun was peeking over the tops of the trees now. Not a single cloud hovered in the sky, and Bulldog took a moment to inhale deeply, as if he could smell the west shore of the lake from here.

  If he walked through the woods about a quarter mile, he’d be able to see the lake, and he sometimes did that when he needed to get away from everything—especially what the Hawks did.

  As he went back inside, his thoughts wandered to Maverick Malone and the Sentinels, a rival motorcycle club of sorts, an hour south around the curve in the lake in the town of Forbidden Lake. Some of Bulldog’s best days had been spent down there, simply watching Mav’s club when Daddy suspected Karly Lydell of running to them for help after the death of her husband.

  They were some of the best days, because he’d been away from here. Away from Daddy’s stinking breath and complete paranoia. Bulldog did not get along with the president of the Hawks, but he was too powerful to overthrow without a carefully laid plan.

  Bulldog had started to work on one of those. With earplugs, he could be in bed by ten, and up by six o’clock, which was about two hours after everyone else in the club finally stumbled to sleep. He’d had plenty of time in the morning hours to poke through things here and there, and he knew the real reason Derrick Lydell had been killed almost three years ago.

  If the other club members knew….

  Bulldog switched his thoughts to something else, because while he could lie if he had to, Daddy had a unique way of seeing everything Bulldog was thinking. He only allowed himself to consider calling a contest vote against Daddy once he had all the facts lined up. With proof.

  Unfortunately, it was a very slow process to uncover the little lies, the careful deceit Daddy had been accumulating for so long. But Bulldog would do it—his very name proved that. Once he grabbed onto something, his jaw would have to be broken for him to let go of it.

  He could hope that he didn’t crash and burn before he got out of this place.

  With the front door open, the breeze filtered inside, removing some of the stink from the air. Bulldog had the kitchen clean and the couch cushions straightened when one of his favorite songs came blasting through the speakers. He was surprised Noose or Rooster hadn’t come out and yelled at him to turn the music down.

  Their rooms were the closest to the main room, but he supposed they could buy earplugs as easily as him.

  The first person to come out into the main room while
Bulldog was still singing and swishing a duster all over the place was Suzie, a petite blonde woman who’d been with the club for years.

  “I can hear you clear up on the second floor,” she said, pulling open the fridge though her biker had one in his room.

  “Sorry,” Bulldog said, though he wasn’t all that sorry. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You can never sleep past six,” Suzie said, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge and twisting the cap. “It’s because you go to bed too early. And alone.” She lifted her eyebrows as if Bulldog cared what she thought about his love life. His non-existent love life.

  He didn’t have time for a girlfriend, for one. Number two, he didn’t want a biker club groupie in his face all the time. And number three, claiming an old lady would only tie him further to the Hawks, when he was trying to find a way out that didn’t end up with him—or his family—dead.

  “I’ll turn the music down,” he said, moving over to the radio and doing just that. Suzie drained her water, left the empty bottle on the counter he’d just cleaned and went back down the hall.

  Bulldog stared at her back, sure she could feel the lasers in his eyes. This place didn’t just clean itself up. He’d just deposited her bottle in the trashcan when another song came on.

  He wasn’t the greatest singer, and he knew it. But he sure did love to sing and riding a bike didn’t give him a lot of opportunities to just belt out lyrics. He didn’t today either, because he didn’t need more women telling him to be quiet when it was almost noon.

  His last chore became rinsing shot glasses and putting them in the dishwasher. He added a little shake of his hips to the end of the song and bent to put the last of the dishware in the machine.

  Behind him, someone started clapping, and Bulldog spun toward the sound already knowing who it would be.

  Daddy stood there, a wickedly perfect grin on his face, slow-clapping like Bulldog had just won a singing competition. He chuckled, but the man’s laughter could chill water into ice, and Bulldog gripped the counter behind him.

  He wasn’t exactly afraid of Daddy, but at the same time, he really was. It took real grit and authority to run an outlaw motorcycle club, and nobody crossed Daddy. Nobody.

  And Bulldog had already threatened him once, over a year ago, when he’d brought Karly Lydell to the club. And the whole fiasco with the tapes….

  Bulldog put it all out of his mind and smiled at the president of the club, his eyes immediately moving to the woman at his side.

  Because Bulldog went to bed before the parties ever really got started, he couldn’t say for sure if she’d been in the clubhouse last night or not.

  He was betting not, as this brunette had an air of innocence around her. Her dark curls reached to her elbows, and she put a tentative smile on her face.

  So she’d never been in a motorcycle club before. Bulldog wondered where Daddy had found her, and what he planned to do with her. His heart tapped faster in his chest as he moved down the length of the counter to greet them both.

  “Who’s this?” he asked as he came around the corner and sat on a barstool. The woman seemed vaguely familiar to him, though Bulldog never had the opportunity to meet a fresh-faced woman such as the one in front of him.

  “This here’s Dani,” Daddy said, beaming at her. “She has certain organizational skills.”

  Pure fear streamed from the woman, and Bulldog felt it sucker-punch him in the gut. Because he knew who Dani was now. Dani. As in Danielle Beller, though Bulldog knew she’d been married in the past. What in the world was she doing here?

  Daddy reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and she cut her eyes toward him and back to Bulldog, a plea there he understood perfectly well.

  She possessed beauty in her high cheekbones and that heart-shaped face, and Bulldog wanted to tell her to get out of there. Never come back.

  Instead, he said, “Well, organization is my specialty too. I’ll take her off your hands.”

  Daddy didn’t look away from Dani, and Bulldog’s pulse went crazy. If the president wanted this woman, he’d have her, and Bulldog needed to distract him quickly.

  “I didn’t realize you were up and out this morning,” he said. Daddy never left the clubhouse. Never. “When did you go get Dani?”

  “I didn’t,” Daddy said, finally looking away from her. She took a small step sideways, trying to get away from his hands, and Bulldog’s protective genes kicked in.

  “How’d she get here then?” Bulldog asked. People didn’t just come to the Hawks’ clubhouse. Anyone who wasn’t a member had to be blindfolded on the way in, and only brought by a member in good standing.

  “She came last night.” Daddy purred at her again. “I heard she slept upstairs somewhere.”

  She did look a little rough around the edges, and her eyes seemed made of glass as they filled with tears. Daddy traced one finger down the side of her face, and Bulldog leapt off the barstool.

  “I’ll take her,” he said, striding forward. He paused in front of them, very aware of Daddy’s hungry eyes on him. He scanned Dani as if he were really assessing her, and then he said, “I like her. She’s mine.”

  “Yours?” Daddy asked.

  Bulldog met his eye, a challenge rising through him he absolutely could not let the other man see. “Yeah,” he said evenly. “I don’t have anyone. Haven’t in a while.” He shrugged. “She’s sexy. I’ll take her.”

  Daddy unlaced his arm from Dani’s and said, “Perfect.” He backed away, his eyes never leaving Bulldog’s. “See how you like her first, though. No need to claim her without seeing what she can do.” Then he turned, sauntering toward the hallway that led back to his private rooms.

  Bulldog watched him go, his heart sinking all the way to the soles of his boots.

  Perfect.

  What did that mean? If Daddy wanted him to have Dani, there must be a reason, though he had advised Bulldog to see if he actually liked her. To Bulldog, though, how he liked the woman was secondary to her safety.

  “Thank you,” Dani said, blowing her breath out. “He’s creepy.”

  “And he’s not even the worst of them.” He spoke very, very softly, though Daddy was definitely the worst of them. Bulldog needed her to understand, and he refused to let himself glance around the club. He trained his eyes on her, as if he’d be able to see if he could trust this woman or not. “Did you really stay here last night?”

  She nodded and looked away.

  “Did you…did something happen you didn’t want to have happen?”

  “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I found a room that was empty and slept on a bare mattress for a few hours.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I was trying to sneak out when he came up behind me.”

  Bulldog sighed. “Well, you’re in now, Dani. There’s no sneaking out.”

  “I have a son at home,” she said, panic filling her face. “I can’t stay here.”

  “Who brought you?” Because Bulldog was going to get his airhorn and wake the moron up before he demanded to know what he’d been thinking, bringing a trembling, doe-eyed woman like this to the club.

  “I don’t know,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “He said I could make a hundred bucks. I needed the money.”

  Bulldog took a step closer to her, and he knew he was big and bearded and intimidating. But Dani didn’t shy away from him. Just held his gaze with tears in her eyes.

  “You only make money if you perform for them,” he said. “Is that what you want?”

  She shook her head, those pretty pink lips trembling. Just the fact that Bulldog had looked at her lips had him in a tailspin.

  “You need a job,” he said, and he wasn’t asking.

  She nodded, and Bulldog wondered if he’d gone crazy. Because he said, “Fine. Anyone asks you anything, and you say you have to talk to me. Then they won’t touch you. Number two, you’ll have to work here if you really want to stay. I’ll find you something.”

  He t
urned and started in the opposite direction that Daddy had been going. He hoped he could find his sanity, because he should have this woman on the back of his bike, blindfolded, as he took her back to her son.

  Instead, he said, “Come see where you’re going to be staying while you’re here,” and he pushed open the door to his own suite of rooms.

  Chapter Two

  Danielle Robbins glanced around the small room the huge motorcycle gang member had brought her into. She knew who he was, despite the beard and the ink clawing its way from under his collar.

  And Tyson Pike had known her first husband. She, Reid, and Tyson had all gone to high school together in Grand Central, and she thought she’d caught a glint of recognition in his eyes when they’d met in the main room.

  The “rec room” Daddy had called it. Dani had certainly seen it a wreck—and filled with half-naked, writhing bodies, loud music, and too much smoke. She’d ran drinks from the long counter that separated the galley kitchen from the rest of the room to anyone who wanted them, because she needed the money.

  She closed her eyes and thought of Jonas. She’d do anything for him, and last night had proved that.

  “I can set up a bed here,” Tyson said. “And you can sleep in there. We’ll have to share the bathroom.”

  Dani didn’t move. She ran her hands up her arms, her only sign of nerves. “I can’t stay here.”

  “If you want to stay in this room, that’s fine,” he said. “There’s usually only two or three guys who stumble into the wrong room each week.” He shrugged and nodded toward the door, a dark glint in his eye. “The outside doors don’t lock.”