Quieting the Biker's Rage Read online

  2019 Piper Davenport

  Copyright © 2019 Trixie Publishing, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States

  Quieting the Biker’s Rage is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Art

  Jackson Jackson

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Praise

  Acknowledgements

  Back Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Keeping the Biker’s Oath

  Meet Samantha

  About Piper

  All it took was one page and I was immediately hooked on Piper Davenport’s writing. Her books contain 100% Alpha and the perfect amount of angst to keep me reading until the wee hours of the morning. I absolutely love each and every one of her fabulous stories. ~ Anna Brooks – Contemporary Romance Author

  Get ready to fall head over heels! I fell in love with every single page and spent the last few wishing the book would never end! ~ Harper Sloan, NY Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  Piper Davenport just reached deep into my heart and gave me every warm and fuzzy possible. ~ Geri Glenn, Author of the Kings of Korruption MC Series

  This is one series I will most definitely be reading!! Great job Ms. Davenport!! I am in love!! ~ Tabitha, Amazeballs Book Addicts

  Liz Kelly:

  Thanks again. Your insight is always so spot on!

  Jack:

  Thanks for being my muse, and really great in bed!

  18+ for language and sexual situations.

  Doom

  Six years ago, I lost everything that meant anything to me. Since then, I've been moving through life in a fog. My club brothers are the only people I can tolerate, and only on a good day.

  Then 'she' crashes into my life and the pain I've kept buried surfaces again. She's a mirror projecting everything I've lost back at me and I can no longer control the rage I've managed to keep in check.

  Lyric

  I am nobody.

  I've worked hard to make sure I stay a nobody while my sister's career continues to shoot into space. I like my anonymity and the life I've carefully carved out for myself.

  That is until an angry biker forces me into the spotlight and I have no idea how to stop myself from falling...hard.

  For Sapphire

  You inspire me every other week, on Thursdays.

  Thanks for that!

  Doom

  Six years ago…

  I SMILED AS Aspen Westwood opened the door to her townhouse and shook her head. “I told you not to come.”

  “And I told you I didn’t give a shit.”

  She rolled her eyes, stepping back and waving me inside. She looked adorable in sweats and an oversized T-shirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She’d taken her normal brunette hair and gone more of a magenta and she looked cute as hell.

  I’d met Aspen a couple of years ago when I’d helped my buddy, Dalton, with a babysitting job. Aspen had been the job, and she and I had hit it off. Well, we’d hit it off as much as gunpowder and matches hit it off. We fucked hard, and fought harder.

  “Doom,” she said with a sigh. “I need you to hear me. Really hear me.”

  “I listen better when I’m naked.”

  She let out a frustrated squeak and dragged her hands down her face.

  “Okay, Aspen,” I said. “I’m listening.”

  “This,” she waved her hand between us, “is not going to happen.”

  “It al—”

  “Again,” she clarified.

  “But it’s good.”

  “The sex is, yes, but you’re not available.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m right here.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “But you’re not and you know it. You’re angry. Angrier, if that’s even possible. I care about you, and I know you care about me, but we don’t love each other, and I know someone is out there for me, for both of us, who will.”

  I forced down the rage that threatened to prove her point. “There won’t ever—”

  “I know.” She stroked my face and I reared back like she’d struck me. She dropped her hand and blinked back tears. “Sorry.”

  “Whatever,” I ground out. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Stop,” she demanded as I turned to leave. “You need to get a handle on this, Doom, or you’ll rot from the inside. Talk to someone.”

  What she didn’t understand was that my insides had already festered well past the rot stage and no amount of talking would change that.

  “Call me if you wanna fuck, Aspen. See you around.”

  I walked out her door, climbed on my bike, and rode away.

  * * *

  Present Day…

  I rolled out from under the Lexus I was working on and stood. I’d found the source of the leak and headed toward the parts room just as the sound of screeching tires and crunching metal had me rushing out the front door of the shop.

  Alamo and Rabbit were right behind me and we saw a beat up Ford F-150 next to a little Passat in the ditch by the road. The Passat was currently upside down, so we ran for the wreckage.

  “Oh my god, that truck rammed into that little car,” a woman in a Honda explained as she got out of her car. “He’s been following her for several blocks.”

  “Call 9-1-1,” Alamo directed, and he and I focused on the Passat while Rabbit headed to the truck.

  I tried to pull the door open, but it wasn’t budging. “Ma’am? Can you hear me? What’s your name?” She didn’t answer right away, so I tried again. “Ma’am?”

  “Lyric.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  The woman chuckled. Her sweet laugh gave me pause and I finally looked at her. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Long, blonde hair brushed the roof of her car, giving her almost a halo effect, and when she turned deep blue eyes to me, I nearly lost my breath.

  “My name. It’s Lyric,” she clarified. “My sisters are Harmony and Melody. Mom was obsessed with music and a little bit of a hippie. It’s weird, but kind of perfect. Sorry, I’m rambling. Um, can you get me out, please? I feel sick.”

  “Alamo, she’s stuck. Grab a crowbar!” I yelled, then turned back to Lyric. “You hurt?”

  “I don’t know. All the blood’s rushing to my head.”

  She reached to undo her seatbelt, but I squeezed her hand. “Don’t. Let’s wait to see what the damage is before we move you.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Right. That’s probably a good idea.”

  I worked to cl
ear the glass covering her, noticing blood on her airbag, so I moved her hair away from her face as gently as I could, parting it at her crown. “You’ve got a nasty gash on your head.”

  “What constitutes a nasty one as opposed to a delightful one? Have you ever wondered that?” she asked. “I mean, does the nasty gash call you names instead of bringing you flowers?”

  I was pretty sure she was in some sort of pain-induced fugue state, but I couldn’t help but notice she was funny as hell.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Doom.”

  “Were your parents worried about the end of the world?”

  “Something like that,” I said, and she smiled. My heart stuttered. Jesus, her smile was stunning.

  “Why would they name their baby ‘Doom’?” she mused. “You must have been a beautiful baby. That just seems psycho to me.” She gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to call your parents psycho. They’re probably very nice people.”

  “Lincoln Marxx,” I said, and then mentally shook myself. I never gave anyone my legal name and I couldn’t figure out why the fuck I’d blurted it out to this stranger.

  “Oh,” she rasped. “That’s such a cool name. It’s kind of a rock star name.”

  “Crowbar,” Alamo said, pulling me out of my head as he shoved the tool into the seam of the doorframe.

  “Goddammit,” Rabbit bellowed from my right. “Don’t move, asshole!”

  While Alamo worked on the door, I went to back Rabbit up. He was currently in a fistfight with some redneck who was clearly drunk and I suddenly saw red.

  I fuckin’ hated drunk drivers.

  Rabbit was technically my recruit. I’d met him when he was sixteen right before I’d quit my stint as a firefighter. He’d been a kid on the streets at the time, his parents both dead from ODs and his foster family a shit show who didn’t deserve to look after kids. Our club had taken him in and he’d decided to become a prospect when he turned eighteen.

  We’d called him Rabbit because he was fuckin’ quick in a seriously nervous kind of way. He was a hacking mastermind, too, which helped when we needed information that may or may not be completely legal to obtain.

  I rushed for the drunk, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling hard enough to knock him on his ass, where I forced him onto his stomach with a knee in his back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’?” I growled.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” he slurred.

  “You’re not my type.” I turned to Rabbit. “Go grab some zip ties.”

  Rabbit nodded and ran up the embankment back into the shop, returning with two sets of zip ties, which I used to secure the drunk’s hands.

  Just as I heard sirens in the distance, the drunk made the stupid mistake of trying to wrestle away from me again, so I slammed my fist into his face and he went down hard.

  “Watch him,” I demanded and made my way back to Lyric.

  Alamo had gotten the door open.

  “Don’t move her!” I called.

  “I’m not gonna fuckin’ move her, brother,” he snapped.

  I closed the distance between us and helped Alamo force the door further open.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Lyric warned and promptly puked everywhere. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Alamo assured. “The EMTs are here. They’re gonna take good care of you.”

  “Y’all are so nice,” she mused.

  Alamo smiled his million-dollar smile and I found myself scowling in response. It didn’t matter that he was married to the woman of his dreams, I didn’t want him smiling at Lyric.

  “Excuse us,” a female voice ordered as she and her partner rolled in a gurney. “Oh, hey, Doom.”

  “Hey, Marney,” I said. She’d been an EMT when I was a firefighter and I liked her. She was crazy as fuck, but fun. “Her name’s Lyric. She just threw up, and she’s got a laceration on her head.”

  “Okay, we’ll take it from here.”

  Admittedly, I hovered while they extracted Lyric from her car, and as soon as she was on the gurney, she passed out.

  “Fuck,” I snapped, stepping toward her.

  “We got her,” Marney said firmly, placing an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. “You friends?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Never met her before.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything further, and I stepped back to let her work. I watched as they bandaged Lyric’s head and loaded her into the ambulance, then I was left to help clean up the scene, since I had a tow truck available for the cops to use.

  My shop was right next door to Alamo’s. He did mostly mechanical work, I did body work, but we’d cross-pollinate on occasion when we were short-handed or got bored. In the case of the Lexus, he was short-handed, and I had Rabbit training a new guy on paint, so I had a little time on my hands.

  Well, until this happened.

  I took it upon myself to retrieve anything of Lyric’s out of her car that looked valuable and stowed it safely in my saddlebags until I could get it back to her. I don’t know why I did it, but I felt as though it was important.

  Once we’d sorted her car, we left the scene for the police to finish up, and I went back to the Lexus I’d been working on. When it was time to close up for the day, I headed back to the compound for a beer…or twelve.

  Lyric

  I CAME AWAKE slowly, my face feeling like it had gone a few rounds with Mohammad Ali, and tried to figure out where I was.

  “Oh my word, Lyric,” Melody cried and sat on the edge of my bed. “You look all swollen and crap.”

  Classic Melody. Always concerned about how we looked and traveled with her makeup artist, Billy, twenty-four-seven. I was actually surprised he wasn’t here with his kit in tow.

  “The doctor said you were upside down for a long time.”

  The memory of the accident flooded back and I grimaced. I still smelled like puke. “Yeah. It wasn’t fun.”

  “You have to have surgery on your leg, huh?”

  I nodded. “Apparently so. Tomorrow, I guess.”

  The doctor had filled me in right before he’d given me some really good drugs that allowed me to sleep for a while.

  “Okay, not to make this all about me, but I hope your leg thing isn’t contagious.”

  “I’m sure broken legs don’t travel through the air like a virus, DiDi. I mean, you’ve got a tour coming up. You can’t have an injury.”

  “Exactly. Put that out into the universe,” she said. “So, tell me what happened.”

  I filled her in on everything I remembered, including the two men who helped get me out of my car.

  “Miss Morgan?”

  Melody stood as a uniformed officer walked into the room.

  “Oh, wow, Melody Morgan,” the officer said. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Really?” Melody breathed out. “That’s so sweet.”

  I rolled my eyes, which severely hurt my head, but I couldn’t believe this officer of the law was fangirling over my sister when I was here in a hospital bed.

  Melody was the biggest pop star in the world right now, and with three sexy movies under her belt, solidified as one of the most popular actors. All of this adoration for her was par for the course, but I really needed the focus on me right now so we could figure out what happened.

  “Ah, sorry, Miss Morgan,” the officer said to me. “I’m Officer Jenkins. Do you feel up to a few questions?”

  “Sure,” I said, and Melody took her seat by the window.

  Jenkins pulled out her notebook and gave me a friendly smile which actually put me at ease. “What do you remember?”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure what happened. I was at the light and it turned green, when I was suddenly hit from behind, then he came at me from the side and rolled my car.”

  She nodded. “Okay, that’s what the evidence shows as well. The other driver was drunk and he’s been taken into custody. We’re gathering surve
illance footage as we speak.”

  “What happened to my car?”

  “I don’t have that information, but I’ll see what I can find out for you. I’m pretty sure the insurance company is going to total it.”

  I sighed. “Poor Petunia.”

  “Lordy, it’s about time you come into this century, LiLi,” Melody said with a groan. “You know I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

  And she would, but I could afford my own car, so I glossed over her comment. “Oh, did anyone find my purse at the scene? It didn’t make it into the ambulance with me, so I have no ID or anything.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about that as well.” She closed her notebook and smiled again. “Do you have any questions for me?”

  My first thought was, Do you know the name of the man who helped me? Is he single? But I kept it to myself. “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. I’ll see what I can find out about your personal belongings.”

  “Thank you.”

  She wrote down my address and phone number, then left me with my sister again.

  “What am I going to do about the charity ball?” I asked, forcing back tears.

  Every year my team worked with several of the Savannah fire houses to put on a charity ball to raise money for education on fire prevention, money for families of firefighters who get hurt or die in the line of duty, and general goodwill toward the community. It was my baby and I’d planned the event for the last ten years.

  “We’ve got over a month, sissy,” Melody said. “You’ll probably be good to go by then.”

  “I hope so. My case load, though, that’s going to be a bit harder.”

  I was a lawyer and worked for one of the biggest firms in Savannah, along with representing my sister and all the legalities of her career. Melody didn’t sign anything until I looked at it. I was right in the middle of a criminal trial, defending a man I knew was innocent, which was the worst client to have. It would be a hell of a lot easier to represent him if he was guilty.