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skin, but went unnoticed
when Mace’s weight lowered onto her. He had her wrists pinned above her head
with his left hand, his right cupping her hip. She gulped for air as his hand
tenderly moved up her rib cage, the calloused palm sending goose bumps along
her body. Her shiver seemed to urge him further, burying his nose against her neck,
rubbing it along her jawline with a painfully slow movement.
    Amy gasped, arms straining against his hold, her back
arching, pushing her chest against the solid planes of his chest. A whimper
escaped her when he bit her lower lip in tender abandon, his hand pausing to
give a gentle caress under her bikini line.
    She ignored the whinny of the horse in the next stall, not
allowing it to interrupt the exquisite torture Mace provided. Her breaths
became heated pants, the horse’s neigh becoming shrill as Mace’s lips traveled
down her breastbone, her body writhing under his weight.
    The shrill grew louder, hurting her ears.
    Bolting upright, her body drenched with sweat and throbbed
with a need only a certain man could provide. Shaking off the dream that gave her
the worst set of pink balls a woman could get, it dawned on her that the shrill
was her phone ringing. Amy frowned and picked it up, not recognizing the
number. It was three o’clock in the damn morning. Accepting the call, she
huffed into the phone. “It’s three a.m. This had better be good.”
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    The red and blue strobe lights were going to give her a
migraine.
    Red. Blue. Red. Blue.
    The wail of the siren wasn’t helping either.
    Burrowing deeper into Maggie’s arms, Amy wondered why she
had no tears. She knew she should, but it was as if she didn’t have any tears
left to shed. She glanced to the side when another set of arms wrapped around
her. Antonia, her cross-dressing employee and friend, gave her the warmest
smile Amy knew he could muster at a time like this. She tried to smile back at
him, but couldn’t.
    Amy could only stare at the devastation of what was left of
her mother’s store. Police were milling about, spreading black dust over
everything while they fingerprinted every inch of the building. Someone had
broken in and tossed the place. All the windows were smashed, furniture thrown
through them, books torn off shelves, papers strewn about, all of her barista
equipment destroyed. The worst was the graffiti spray painted on the outside.
Crude words were attached to her name, along with the Temer Gallo MC tag.
    Why would they put a price on her head? It didn’t make any
sense. They had buried the hatchet years ago when Stone killed the president
for murdering his childhood best friend. Sure, they were still rivals, but it
was peaceful between the two. They ran Lompoc to Santa Barbara; Six-Guns ran
Orcutt to San Luis Obispo.
    “Who in their damned right mind would do this to you, babe?”
Antonia shook his head, pushing the twists out of his eyes. Dark caramel
colored skin offset jet black long braided hair, light hazel eyes stood out
from under the false eyelashes he wore regularly. Silken bath robe of red was
over a white tank top and boy shorts, fuzzy bunny slippers topped it all off.
Tall, unbelievably good looking and statuesque, Antonia was a diva and one of
Amy’s best friends.
    “I have no idea, Antonia.” She shook her head and stepped
out of his arms, hearing the familiar rumble of a band of Harleys making their
way to the scene. “Shit.”
    That sound meant her father and the boys were on their way.
When they saw the tag, they were going to do something dumb. Her dad would call
for retaliation. How the hell was she going to stop it from going down?
    Six bikes roared onto the scene, whipping around to park.
Helmets were ripped off and tossed to seats. All the men ran up to the
distressed trio.
    Tears began to flow when she saw the look of worry on her
father’s face. She let go of Maggie and ran into his arms, unable to stop the
heart wrenching sobs that left her. So much for