Ruin My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book

1) Hayley Faiman
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 RUIN MY LIFE

A NASTY BASTARDS MC NOVEL

HAYLEY FAIMAN
HAYLEY FAIMAN BOOKS, LLC
 CONTENTS

Also by Hayley Faiman

Stay Connected

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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Hayley Faiman
Ruin My Life

Copyright © 2021 by Hayley Faiman

All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at: http://hayleyfaiman.com
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ALSO BY HAYLEY FAIMAN

Men of Baseball Series—

Pitching for Amalie
Catching Maggie
Forced Play for Libby
Sweet Spot for Victoria

Russian Bratva Series —

Owned by the Badman
Seducing the Badman
Dancing for the Badman
Living for the Badman
Tempting the Badman
Protected by the Badman
Forever my Badman
Betrothed to the Badman
Chosen by the Badman
Bought by the Badman
Collared by the Badman

Notorious Devils MC —
Rough & Rowdy
Rough & Raw
Rough & Rugged
Rough & Ruthless
Rough & Ready
Rough & Rich
Rough & Real

Cash Bar Series —

Laced with Fear
Chased with Strength
Flamed with Courage
Blended with Pain
Twisted with Chaos
Mixed with trouble

SAVAGE BEAST MC —
 UnScrew Me
UnBreak Me
UnChain Me
UnLeash Me
UnTouch Me
UnHinge Me
UnWreck Me
UnCage Me

Unfit Hero Series —

CONVICT
HERO
FRAUD
KILLER
COWBOY

Zanetti Famiglia Series —

Becoming the Boss
Becoming his Mistress
Becoming his Possession
Becoming the Street Boss
Becoming the Hitman
Becoming his Wife
Becoming her Salvation

Prophecy Sisters Series —

Bride of the Traitor
Bride of the Sea
Bride of the Frontier
Bride of the Emperor

Astor Family Series —

Hypocritically Yours
Egotistically Yours
Matrimonially Yours
Occasionally Yours

Nasty Bastards MC —
Ruin My Life
Tame My Life
Start My Life
Dance into My Life
 Shake Up My Life
Repair My Life
Sweeten My Life

Russian Torpedo—
Stolen by the Sinner
Bound to the Sinner
Caught by the Sinner
F*cked by the Sinner
Stripped by the Sinner
Rejecting the Sinner
Loved by the Sinner

Offspring Legends—
Between Flaming Stars

Esquire Black Duet Series –

DISCOVERY
APPEAL

Forbidden Love Series —

Personal Foul
Kinetic Energy

Standalone Titles
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale
 STAY CONNECTED

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It is the eye of other people that ruin us. If I were blind I would want, neither fine clothes, fine
houses or fine furniture.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
 CHAPTER ONE

LUELLA

I t’s a typical day, like any other day. I’m sitting at the dining room table feeding Magnolia. As a
one-year-old, she doesn’t eat much, instead she makes a complete mess. A disaster, really, out of
her high chair and the entire surrounding area. I find myself sweeping and mopping at least twice
a day, sometimes more.
My body jerks when I hear a knock on the back door of the townhouse we’re living in. It’s
military housing, but it’s also the nicest place I’ve ever lived. It’s not unusual for someone to knock
on the back door. Typically, it’s my neighbor asking to borrow something.
I don’t have many friends here, there’s just something about me that the other women don’t like.
Maybe they can just smell my past, the way that I was brought up. Maybe they can sense what a
complete cluster my life has been.
Standing, I walk the few steps away from Magnolia in her high chair and tug the door open only to
see the mailman, Herb, standing on the back porch. He doesn’t come up to the house often. There’s a
mailbox in front of the house.
But there is something different about him today. Something is hiding behind his eyes. His gaze
lifts to mine, and his hand trembles as he extends it toward me shakily. There’s a letter there in his
grip, but I refuse to touch it, to reach out for it.
I know what it is, or rather what it could be, and I don’t want any part of it.
“I couldn’t just slip it in your box. Wouldn’t do that to you, but also, you gotta sign for it,” he says,
his voice low and soft.
Shaking my head, I take a step back, stumbling before I reach out and grab hold of a chair to keep
me from falling on my ass. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times before I release them.
“No,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
Herb helps me over to the chair and practically forces me to sit. I sink down, my ass slamming
against the wood hard. He slips a form in front of me with a pen.
Reluctantly, I sign the paper and shove it to the side, never wanting to see it again and never
wanting to see him again, either. He catches it before it flutters to the ground. I start to apologize, but
my words are frozen in my throat. I don’t think that I’m really sorry.
 Then he slides the envelope over. The. Envelope. An envelope with a return address from the
United States of America. The rest is blurred by the tears that form in my eyes. I don’t even have to
open it.
I already know what it is.
Ripping it open anyway, I take the letter out. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, at least that’s what I
tell myself. Just get it over with. Just see the words in black and white on paper. My eyes take in the
presidential seal. It’s so formal, and any other day, I would be seriously excited to have a letter from
the government.
I’m not today.
Not at all.
To whom it may concern.
To fucking whom it may concern.
We regret to inform you…
I can’t read it word for word. I just can’t. I’ll break down if I do. And Herb is so nice, but he
doesn’t need to see all of that. I don’t want him to either. My breakdown needs to be when I’m
completely alone.
So, instead, I scan the document. My eyes land on the words Missing in Action.
MIA.
I’ve seen those flags flying before and thought to myself, how sad. They don’t know where those
men are, when or if they’ll ever come home.
It’s just so sad.
But never, not in a million years, did I think that it could be me thinking those things about my own
husband. Shifting my gaze to the side, I see Magnolia sitting in her chair.
She’s got his dark hair, my blue eyes, and her own little round cheeks. Yet, she’ll never know him.
She’ll never see his smile or hear him make some stupid joke filled with sexual innuendo. She’ll
never know the way he can make you feel as if you’re the only person in the room.
She’ll never know.
And me?
I’ll never feel his hands on my skin again. I’ll never look into his brown eyes as he fills me and
fucks me like only he can, like the only man I’ve ever been with. I’ll never hear him tell me that he
loves me. Not ever again.
Herb leaves me alone at some point, and as soon as he does, my tears fall. I’m glad that he’s gone
and doesn’t witness my complete breakdown. I really don’t want anyone else to see this. It’s bad
enough that Magnolia is watching me like she doesn’t know what to do. As if she might help me, she
can’t. Nobody can.
I’ve cried plenty since he left, every single night, but never in front of her and never this hard. She
must be able to feel my pain because she starts to whimper in her high chair. Lifting my hand to my
face, I wipe the tears away and give her a shaky, fake smile.
Crying does neither of us any good.
Inhaling a deep breath, I shake my head and continue to force my smile. Looking around, I decide
that we will get through this. I may be nineteen, have a baby, and my husband is gone, but that doesn’t
mean that I’m not capable.
I’m capable.
I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen years old. Married since I was eighteen and a mother
immediately after that. I know how to survive.
 Then I look over at Magnolia, and a piece of my heart breaks. I may know how to survive, but she
shouldn’t have to. She should have a real family, a real life. She should have what I never did, but she
won’t. She’ll never have a father, just like me.
We’re doomed.

BOWIE

W alking into the garage, I look around and cringe. We’re all a fucking sight, every single one of
us. Last night we tied one on, and it wasn’t like a normal fucking party; it was legit. Booze,
bitches, smoke, the whole goddamn thing.
Now, we’re all paying the price because someone has to be down here at nine every goddamn
day, and a few other guys have to actually work on the cars, too. It’s goddamn misery, and the party
should have been on a Saturday night. That way we could all nurse our hangovers the right way… by
getting drunk again.
Lowering my head, I rest my forehead against the cool tabletop. Inhaling a deep breath, I let out a
groan. Thank fuck it’s quiet up here today. I know soon the phone will ring, and my headache will go
into overdrive.
There is a long moment of silence, and I’m glad for it. My head feels fat from the booze and
smoke I consumed last night, all night, well into this morning. I haven’t even fucking slept. Not that
sleep would help me at this point, I need a little hair of the dog.
My nose wrinkles as I smell something foul. Sex mixed with BO, some bad breath, then there’s the
smoke, and leather, a bit of engine grease, too. It’s then that I realize it’s me that smells so fucking
bad.
I didn’t even shower.
Jesus Christ, I hope nobody actually comes inside today.
Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck, but it’s my turn to work the front counter, and Prez wants us
respectable when we deal with customers. What he doesn’t want is someone who looks and smells
like… well… me.
I’m able to stay where I am, head down, inhaling and exhaling calming breaths in an attempt to
curb my hangover for a while. When the front door opens, the bell above it dings, and I let out a groan
as I lift my head.
Expecting to see a customer in front of me, I am surprised to come face-to-face with Prez.
Inwardly, I groan again but keep it to myself this time. He chuckles, then takes a couple of steps
toward me and slams something down next to my hand.
My entire body jumps, and I look down at the bottle of Gatorade. I could kiss him, seriously
fucking kiss him. Shifting my gaze up to him, I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
He laughs a little harder, obviously understanding where I’m coming from.
“You think I wasn’t there last night? I don’t miss the good parties, boy. It’s going to be rough for
all of us,” he says, then slams his other hand down. “Take that with it.”
Without another word, he walks past me, skirting the counter, then goes to the garage, and I hear
him call out to the rest of the brothers back there. The Gatorade and pills help my head, but nothing
can help the fact that today is my day to work the front counter. I fucking hate this shit.
If it wasn’t so important to have someone up here who knew what they were doing, we’d have a
prospect do this shit. But it’s important, especially to Prez, and since he’s the boss, this is what we do
every day. A brother is up here running shit.
The phone rings, and that’s when the work truly begins. There is no lull in the day, and I even have
to put a call in for lunch to be delivered from the restaurant down the street. It’s a good thing, too,
because, by lunch, I need to feed my fucking hangover, or I’m going to have bigger problems.
Once I choke down the greasy burgers, fries, and Coke with Red Bull, I am able to focus on
customers, calls, and administration bullshit. The day goes by quickly. As five rolls around, I’m now
fully awake and ready to party again.
“Brother,” Riff calls out.
Turning my head, I look over at him. He’s got a grin on his face, covered in grease from working
on the ‘65 Barracuda. Man, I’m fucking jealous as shit that I didn’t get to work on that one. It’s getting
a complete overhaul, and it’s going to be gorgeous when it’s done.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He licks his lips, then jerks his chin toward the door. Turning my head, I let out a sigh at the sight
of Penny standing in front of her broken-down, piece-of-shit Beetle.
“The fuck she want?” I ask.
He laughs. “More of what you gave her last night, I suspect.”
“You’re working the front tomorrow, jackass,” I call out as I grab my shit from beneath the
counter and head out the front door.
“You ain’t touching the ‘Cuda tomorrow,” he shouts.
Lifting my hand, I flip him off as I make my way toward Penny. She’s smiling as she watches me
come her way. She probably thinks I’ll just pick her up and fuck her right here. Skirt’s short enough, I
could do it if I wanted to. But I wouldn’t in front of the garage.
We don’t have many rules here, but publicly fucking at the garage is one of them.
“What’re you doing here?” I demand.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tip my chin down and look at her. She doesn’t say anything
right away; then she pouts as she looks up at me. She lets out a little huff. Maybe it’s supposed to be
cute, but it’s not.
“Thought we could hang out. Maybe have dinner down at the diner or something?”
Dinner.
A date.
This bitch wants to go on a date. I almost laugh in her face, but I don’t. Instead, I arch a brow as I
look down at her and shake my head once. She’s fucking lost her goddamn mind. If she doesn’t know
what she is by now, I just don’t think me reminding her is going to do much good.
“Don’t date,” I say, trying not to be a dick.
“What?” she asks, her voice full of shock and awe.
“Don’t. Date.”
She blinks up at me, then she takes a step forward. “You just haven’t met the right girl. Maybe I’m
her,” she purrs.
The look in her eyes, it’s scheming. She is the worst kind of club girl, the worst kind of whore.
This is someone who is going to try to manipulate her way into being claimed, into being on the back
of someone’s bike.
That someone ain’t me. I don’t like it. Not at all. I’m not her anything, and she’s nothing to me but
a piece of ass. I figured since she’s been down at the club, fucked more than one brother that she knew
the score. Fuck me, but I hate having to remind people of shit like this.
 “You trying to get an old man, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, babe,” I say.
She blinks, then I watch as her face falls a bit before she fixes it. That’s exactly what she was
trying to do. Not to-fucking-day, at least not with me.
“We can party. We can fuck. We won’t date, ever. We won’t be anything else. You cool with that,
then I am too. But don’t hang around expecting to be anything more because you won’t be.”
I know it’s a dick thing to say, but I’ve never claimed to be anything I’m not. I’m not a saint. I’m
not all that nice, but I’m honest and completely truthful. She’s going to get the truth with me. Stringing
bitches along is not my style—ever.
“I’ll see you tonight then?” she asks, her bravado a bit damaged, but her voice still awfully
fucking hopeful.
“Yeah," I murmur.
I should not fuck her anymore. I should stay the fuck away because I know without a doubt she’s
going to give me nothing but headaches. But easy pussy is easy pussy, and I’m all down for easy most
days.
Turning away from her, I don’t look back. I walk straight toward my bike, straddle it, and start the
engine with a roar before I head home to shower. Then, I go back to the clubhouse to repeat the same
goddamn mistakes all over again.
 CHAPTER TWO

LUELLA

L ooking at my joint bank account, I know that I need to do something. His paycheck is still
coming, but they’re going to declare him deceased soon. I can feel it. I’ve talked to a few
people, and once that happens, I get a one-time payout, and then that’s it. I don’t know what
I’m going to do when it happens, either.
His parents haven’t wanted anything to do with us since he disappeared. They think it’s my fault.
That I drove him into the military because of my pregnancy and we got married so young.
At least, that’s what I assume. They haven’t returned my calls, haven’t answered my texts, and
refused to come to the door when I drove to their house. I knew they were home, too. I could see the
television on and heard them walk to the door before they looked out the peephole.
I didn’t want anything from them except emotional support. I’m a liar, though, even to myself. I did
want something from them. I wanted them to know their only grandchild. Is that so bad? Is that so
mean and awful?
Maybe I did push him into the military, but he never said that to me. He told me that it was his
dream to join the Marines. That’s all he wanted to do in life, and he said he wanted to be free.
I followed him the way I always did. He was my saving grace, my savior, and I would have
continued to follow him to the ends of the earth if he’d asked me. I owed him everything back then. I
still do. No matter how long I wait for him, I know deep in my heart that he’s never coming back.
He’s never coming home to me.
Looking down at the paperwork, I know that it’s coming sooner rather than later. This is the end.
Which means that I’ll be asked to leave housing too. Honestly, I’m surprised they’ve let us stay this
long. I’m surprised that they didn’t kick us out months ago when it was clear he wasn’t going to be
found immediately.
I’ve got zero education past high school and just barely finished that. I think about getting a job
and suddenly feel defeated. I looked high and low. I looked and looked, but when I did the math, there
was no way I could take Magnolia to day care, pay for that, and also pay for a place to live. I’d be in
the hole every single month.
“Mags, baby, I think we need to go find your grandpa.”
My estranged father is my only family. There is nobody else. My mother was worthless, then she
overdosed. When she died, I was sent to a girls’ home for two years until I turned eighteen. I was
already six months pregnant when I married and we started our adventure.
But as much as I think that I can save myself all over again, I can’t. The reality is, he saved me
anyway. I didn’t save myself. He always saved me.
It doesn’t take me long to pack my bags, mainly because we don’t have much. Furniture and beds
are the least of my worries right now, and I know the next family who is assigned to this townhouse
will probably appreciate what’s been left.
I take what I can, pack it all in the trunk, one seat in the back, and the front seat.
Clothes and toys are about all I take.
I also pack up my wedding album. Well, album is a bit of a stretch. It isn’t much, just a few
pictures that his mother took of us and slid into the clear plastic pockets of a store-bought album. It
doesn’t matter that it was inexpensive, that they’re not professional by any means.
It’s perfect to me.
Taking Magnolia’s hand in mine, she toddles next to me as I walk over to the front door. Turning
my head, I look back at the house that was our home. He was here just a few months before he left.
Between boot camp, trainings, and schools, we didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time together
our first year of marriage, and then he was gone.
One year.
That’s what we had. He was able to see Magnolia come into the world. He was able to have a
few sleepless months with us, then he left. One year of what I thought would be forever. And it’s been
one year since he was gone too.
Our baby is almost two years old, and she doesn’t even know the sound of her own father’s voice.
Then again, neither do I. My father left just a few months after I was born, according to my
mother. I’ve never even seen a picture of him. That’s going to change, and I hope it’s not the biggest
mistake of my entire life.
Buckling Magnolia up in her car seat, I slide into the front and start the engine. Staring straight
ahead, I take one long last look at the townhouse again. I can’t believe I’m leaving everything behind.
This could be the biggest mistake of my life.
I keep repeating that to myself.
Over and over.
This could be the biggest mistake of my life.
Then again, maybe it won’t be so bad. At least that’s what I change my self-thoughts to. I tell
myself that maybe it won’t be so bad, over and over, as I drive straight toward Texas.
Toward my father’s mechanic shop.
California feels like it’s light-years away from Texas, but I’m going to go, and we are going to
start a new life.
Hopefully, my father can help us.
I don’t know him, don’t remember him, so I’m not sure if it’s going to happen, but I’m going to try.
If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll have to try and figure something else out. Try and come up with a plan
B, but right now, I’m banking on Hank Watson.
Maybe he’s ready for fatherhood now… only twenty years late.
y poor junky car is limping along by the time I make it to the Texas border. East Texas, where my
father’s shop is, is still ten hours away, and I don’t know if I’m going to make it. I can’t turn
M the engine off anymore. I’m too afraid it won’t start again. I just keep it running, keep driving,
and head toward the Texas-Louisiana border.
The air conditioning on my car also stopped working a while ago, somewhere in New Mexico. So
Magnolia and I have the windows down, and we’re cruising toward the one-stoplight town that we
hope to call our own.
I’m exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open when we arrive on the outskirts of town. The city
limits sign comes into view, and I could cry with joy and relief. It’s too late to try to find his mechanic
shop right now, so I pull over in a parking lot, leaving my car idling, and I close my eyes for a
moment.
I stopped a few hours ago to change Magnolia’s diaper and feed her. She’s out for the night, so I
try to at least rest my eyes and tired body. Though I won’t be able to sleep, especially with the
windows rolled down and being exposed.
The sun rises what feels like seconds later. I look at my reflection in my rearview mirror and
cringe at the sight of myself. Then I look back at Magnolia and smile. She’s still sleeping peacefully. I
know that she’ll be stirring soon and hungry when she does.
I have a few more dollars to my name, so I drive straight toward McDonald’s and buy her some
pancakes, sausage, and milk. My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. I’ll eat another time. Me eating
isn’t that important.
Once I have the food, I change her in the parking lot, cringing every single time my car makes the
new knocking sound that started just the other day.
Putting her in fresh clothes and attempting to change into something fresh-ish myself, I climb back
into the driver’s seat and head toward the NB. Shop. I don’t know what it stands for, NB. It can’t be
his name because my father’s legal name is Hank Watson.
Once I arrive in the parking lot, I look up at the sign. Then I tilt my head to the side. The name is
written in plain block lettering, and there is a painted picture of a motorcycle beneath it next to a
muscle car. It actually looks really cool. Though I still don’t understand the name at all.
I can’t imagine my mother being with anyone who is cool or caring in any way, so I’m not sure
that this is going to work, but I’m going to try… for Magnolia.
Turning the car off, I really do hope that this works out because I don’t think I’ll be able to start it
up again.
Opening the driver’s door, I shift around to the back and let Magnolia out. I want to let her walk,
stretch her legs, knowing she’s been all cooped up in the car. But I don’t know what’s going to happen
here, so I don’t. Not yet, at least.
She’s on my hip as I walk through the door. A bell rings, and a man lifts his head as soon as it
does. I gasp at the sight of him. He’s rugged and rough, bearded and long-haired. He is absolutely
stunning.
I’ve never seen anyone like him, mainly because I haven’t left the military base in so long. I don’t
know what regular people look like anymore.
“Help you?” he asks, his voice just as rough and rugged as his appearance.
“I… uh… I’m trying to find Hank Watson,” I whisper.
His eyes widen, and he flicks his gaze to Magnolia, then shifts it back to meet mine. “That ain’t
his if you’re trying to pin it on him,” he announces.
My eyes widen, and I shake my head as anger boils beneath my skin. I open my mouth to tell I’m
that I know she isn’t his when another man walks in from the back. He is sexy. He’s downright
gorgeous in every way. He causes my knees to knock together. He’s like nothing I’ve ever seen
before. He’s rugged, just like the man I’m talking to, but he’s different. He’s beautiful too.

BOWIE

“GLifting
o and have Riff order us some lunch. No burgers today, maybe some subs?” Prez calls out.
my hand, I walk up front to tell him just that. It’s not even close to lunchtime, but last night
was another long wild one, so I know that we’re all fucking hurting. I also know that food is the best
medicine.
Walking to the front office of the garage, I take a step inside and I freeze. There’s a woman
standing in the doorway, a toddler on her hip, and she looks like she’s about to cry. She’s thin and
pale. She looks seconds away from having a complete breakdown right here and now.
Then she must sense my movement because her gaze flicks to me, and her lips part at the same
time her pretty blue eyes go round.
“What’s goin’ on here?” I ask.
“Says she’s lookin’ for Hank Watson,” Riff announces.
I frown, not knowing anyone by that name. I repeat it to myself a couple of times until it hits me.
Holy fucking shit, she’s looking for Prez.
“What for?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her.
She licks her lips, looking down at her shoes, then slowly lifts her gaze back up to meet mine. She
ignores Riff completely. “Never mind. It was stupid anyway,” she whispers.
I watch as she turns and starts to walk out of the front door, but something inside of me can’t let
her leave, not like this. She knows Prez’s real name. Not many people do. Hell, I’d even forgotten it
myself, and I’ve known him since I was fifteen years old.
“Wait,” I call out as her hand is on the doorknob. “Why do you want to see him?” I ask.
She turns her head to look over her shoulder, her big blue eyes filled with wetness. “I need to talk
to him about something important. Urgent even. Private.”
Lifting my lips in a smirk, I watch her for a moment, clearing my throat. “We’re a family, sugar. So
whatever you need to say to him, you can tell us. Nothin’ is private here.”
She’s debating. I see it in her eyes. She stays halfway out of the door, halfway turned toward me.
Then the little one in her arms calls out for her. She shifts her gaze to the baby and looks at her for a
moment before she leans in and touches her lips to the baby’s forehead.
It’s a pretty sight, mother and daughter like that. It’s obvious she cares for the kid. Her decision
must be made at that moment because she slowly turns around, and her eyes meet mine. They’re much
more determined than they were just seconds ago.
“I’m Hank Watson’s daughter. I need help,” she says.
Riff makes a choking noise, and my lips part as I stare at her in complete fucking shock. Then the
door behind me opens, and I hear Prez ask me what the fuck I’m doing. I step to the side, unable to
even speak.
Prez is fixed, as far as I know. As long as I’ve known him, he’s said he was fixed, kind of made a
point to mention it more than once. He had the big V and never looked back. Didn’t want kids of his
own. Said he wasn’t responsible enough to raise and mold them himself. That the prospects are all his
rug rats.
“Help you, darlin’?” Prez asks.
Riff and I don’t say shit. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this quiet a day in my fucking life. I wait to
see what is going to go down. I can’t move, I can’t speak, and I can barely breathe. I’m goddamn
shocked. Not only is she saying she’s his kid, but she’s a fucking knockout at that.
“Hank Watson?” she asks.
“Who wants to know?”
I watch as she licks her lips, then she takes a step forward. “Luella Watson,” she says, introducing
herself.
Fuck me. She even has his name.
I watch him, waiting for his reaction. His eyes widen, and his lips press together in a thin line. He
shakes his head once, and then he turns around, showing her his back. Wish I could see the look on his
face, but he’s hiding his real reaction to the situation.
“Please, I’m desperate,” she says. She looks it too, judging by the way her eyes are sunken in and
have dark circles of purple beneath them.
He stops, then he turns around and he narrows his gaze on her as if he’s pissed the fuck off. Then
he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side.
“Where’s your mama?”
“Dead,” she states flatly.
Riff and I look between them like a tennis match is happening before our very eyes. Back and
forth, back and forth. Prez clears his throat, his hands fall to his sides as they stare at one another.
“Sorry about that,” he mutters.
“I’m not. She was shit,” the girl states.
Riff makes a noise in the back of his throat, at the same time, Prez takes a step forward.
“What do you mean?” he barks.
She snorts. “I mean, she was hooked on drugs and gave no shits about me at all whatsoever.
Never really did. Then when I was sixteen, she OD’d. She couldn’t even stay alive long enough for
me to turn eighteen, so I had to live in a group home for two years. So yeah, she was shit.”
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Riff hisses.
Luella snorts. “Yeah, fuck is about right.”
“Jesus Christ, come on into my office and talk to me, girl.”
Prez starts to walk toward his small office, but she doesn’t move. “This was a really bad idea,”
she whispers.
I watch as she turns around and walks out of the building without another word said. Prez doesn’t
follow her. He stands there, his eyes focused on the door.
Turning to him, I arch a brow. He doesn’t say anything immediately. We stare at one another for a
long moment before he lets out a heavy sigh.
Fuck, this shit is legit.
 CHAPTER THREE

BOWIE

“Y oung and dumb. Didn’t know what I was thinkin’. Found a piece of ass that I thought I wanted to
keep until I didn’t anymore. I watched her be born. Saw what it took to take care of a baby, and I
panicked. Didn’t even know she’d find out my name,” Prez says, explaining his situation with this hot
piece that walked into the shop claiming to be his kid.
“Fucking shit, Prez. You had a kid out there this whole time,” I mutter. “She’s got a kid now, too.
You’re a…”
“Don’t fucking say it,” he growls. “See if you can find out where she went to. Keep this between
the three of us. I want to talk to her. When we’ve both cooled off a bit more.”
Lifting my hand, I give him a wave and jog out of the front door. I don’t have to go far to find her.
She’s sitting in the front seat of her car, her head against the steering wheel, the car not running.
Tilting my head back so that my face is to the sky, the sun beating down on me; I let out a low
whistle. It’s too fucking hot to be sitting in the car and it not be running, especially for that little baby
of hers.
Making my way toward the car, I lift my arm and rest it against the top of the roof, then clear my
throat. She lets out a squeak, then turns to me, tears streaked down her face. She looks fucking
desperate and broken.
“Prez wants to talk to you a little later. Where you staying, so he can come by?” I ask.
She flicks her gaze to the side, then shifts it back to meet mine. She shrugs her shoulder. Resting
my forehead against my arm, looking down, I really look at her. Watch her. We stare at one another for
a long moment, then she presses her lips together, rolling them a few times.
“Nowhere,” she whispers before she flicks her gaze down to her lap.
I shouldn’t offer her my place. Really fucking shouldn’t, but she looks so sad, and that baby in the
back is innocent as fuck. They can’t stay in her car. They need a clean bed to sleep in, a shower, and a
kitchen to cook in.
Clearing my throat, I wait for her to make eye contact with me again. It takes her a moment, but
she does.
“Got a place. It’s not much. Two bedrooms, one bath, single story. I don’t stay there much. You
and the baby are more than welcome. I’ll tell Prez it’s where you’re staying,” I say.
 She gasps, then shakes her head a couple of times and opens then closes her mouth. “I couldn’t.”
Her words come out as barely a whisper. I watch her, then clear my throat. “Yeah, sugar. You
could. It’s you and this little one. You gotta think about her. What are your other options?”
Tears fill her eyes as she watches me, and then her bottom lip trembles. “I don’t have any,” she
whispers. “And my car won’t start even if I did.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her defeated words. I don’t know what she’s been through, but I can tell
that she has been through some shit. Reaching into the car, I wrap my hand around the side of her neck,
almost instinctually. Fuck, it fits really well in my hand. Really goddamn well.
She lifts her eyes to mine again and holds my gaze. She doesn’t pull from me or even shy away at
all. She holds my gaze with hers and holds it steady at that. It’s my turn to lick my lips as I watch her
for a long moment. Fuck me, but I think I’m fucking lost in these blue eyes of hers.
“I can’t do that,” she whispers.
Pressing my lips together, I continue to stare at her, my eyes searching hers. Nodding my head, my
lips curve up into a small smile. My decision has been made, and I’ve made it for her and that baby of
hers. She’s Prez’s kid. She’s family, and I’ve never wanted to fuck a family member more than I do
her right now.
“You can, and you will. I won’t be there. It’s yours for as long as you two need it. Might have to
change the sheets. Probably nothin’ but a few crackers in the cupboards, so you’ll need food, but it’s
yours.”
Tears fill her eyes again. I watch her, wondering if she’s going to agree to come to my place. Her
gaze searches mine, then the girl in the back seat starts to whine. It’s at that exact moment that her
decision is made. She nods her head.
This woman is willing to possibly be uncomfortable in a stranger’s house if it means her baby
will be comfortable. This woman is a goddamn mother, unlike the one she had or the one I had.
“Okay, but I have no way to get there,” she says on a whispered breath.
“It’s all good, sugar. Pop the hood.”

LUELLA

T his gorgeous man, whose name I don’t even know, drops his hand from my neck and takes a step
back as he instructs me to pop the hood of my car. Magnolia is whining in the back seat, and I
have no doubt that she’s hot because I know that I’m burning up.
“Get out of the car. Let that baby run around a little, stretch her legs. This could take a minute,” he
instructs.
I don’t know if I should trust him. If I should stay in his place or not. But right now, I don’t have
much of a choice. My money is gone, my car is broken, and my father doesn’t seem very interested in
us. Which I don’t know if I blame him or not, to be honest. I’m as much of a stranger to him as he is to
me.
Slipping out of the car, I let out a heavy breath, suddenly realizing just how fucking hot it is. “It’s
hotter than Satan out here,” I announce.
The gorgeous guy chuckles, his head down in the engine of my car. Unhooking Magnolia from her
car seat, I let her down to her feet and watch as she takes a couple of tester steps. She’s not used to
the rock and dirt parking lot, and I can tell she’s not too sure about the stability beneath her feet.
 “Mama,” she calls out.
I hold her hand, but she shifts away from me, and I release my grip on hers. She doesn’t go far
from me. She never has. She just wants to walk on her own. She loves to feel independent. I watch
her as I bake in the Texas heat, but also feeling lighter than I have in years.
There is something about this place. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe it’s that we’re starting something new here. A new life, a new beginning. I feel hope though.
Maybe it’s all the gorgeous pine trees, something that I didn’t even realize was a thing out here.
I’m filled with that hope, actually, almost to bursting.
Then I hear him clear his throat. “We got a problem, babe.” He slams the hood of my car down
and directs his gaze straight toward me.
My heart races. I look to the side, and Magnolia stops as she watches him make his way over
toward us. I do the same. Any woman would. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad and his waist is trim,
and I’m pretty certain he could have that sexy V thing going on under his shirt.
He stands in front of me and I lift my eyes to meet his. He’s wearing a cocky grin on his face, as if
he knows without a doubt that I was checking him out. I can’t deny it, there would be no way that I
could, so I don’t.
Instead, I arch a brow and wait for him to say whatever it is that he’s going to tell me. Which
sounds like bad news.
“Your car’s toast, sugar. I don’t know how you even made it here. It’ll cost more than it’s worth to
fix her.”
Shit.
Shit. Damn. Shit.
Everything that I own is in that car and I don’t have any money to buy another one. I might get a
one-time settlement soon now that he’s officially been declared deceased, but I don’t know when that
will be. It could be a day, it could be another year.
I’m screwed.
“I got a truck at home, let me go and grab it. I’ll get you all set up.”
“No,” I call out, shaking my head.
Inside, I’m full of horror. This man doesn’t even know us. He has no idea who we are or anything
about us at all. And I have no idea who he is. I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up his
hand, palm toward me.
“Babe. Seriously, don’t fight me on this. Not going to leave a woman with her kid stranded.
Besides…” he says. “You’re family. Prez’s kid is family.”
I really don’t want this man to think of me as family. At least that’s what my initial response is,
but then I remember him and I decide that I can’t think like that. Even if I’m being labeled as a
widow, that doesn’t mean that I am.
He could still be alive.
I could still be married and I couldn’t do that to him. Not after the life that he gave me,
what he sacrificed for me, what he meant to me. I need to focus on myself, on my daughter, on getting
my shit together for her.
“As soon as I figure out our next move, we’ll be out of your hair and I’ll pay you back for
everything,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down, and arches a brow. Then he clears his
throat before he speaks. He’s obviously peeved, but I hold my breath as he speaks.
“Whatever you say, sugar,” he says with a grin. “Be back in a few, I don’t live far.”
 I stand there, Magnolia still right beside me, she doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Once
again, we’re completely mesmerized by this gorgeous man, coming or going. A few moments later, I
hear the roar of a motorcycle, then I watch as he zooms past us.
I should have known he rode a bike. I should have guessed with the leather vest, the beard, the
roughness of him, of the man behind the counter, of my father. I should have known they’d be
motorcycle guys.
Magnolia and I stay in the parking lot, walking around, playing, throwing rocks while we wait for
him. True to his word, he’s back in just a few minutes with a pickup truck. It’s an older one, but it’s
really nice. It looks almost brand new.
I watch as he jumps out, then walks over to us, the way he moves is pure sex and confidence. It
oozes from him. It is part of him. He’s not playing a role, this is him. When he makes his way in front
of me, he starts to walk past me toward my car, presumably to grab all of my things.
“Before we go, what’s your name?” I ask.
He lifts his gaze above my head, then flicks it down to meet mine. “August Whitecotton,” he says.
Wow.
Oh wow, but that’s a great name.
Fantastic even.
“I’m Luella Watson-Foster.”
 CHAPTER FOUR

BOWIE

C an’t believe I gave this woman my real name. I can’t even remember the last time I used it,
let alone introduced myself to someone by it.
When she introduces herself, I hear the new last name, Foster. That’s not her given last
name. Flicking my gaze to her left hand, I look for a ring. I don’t see anything there. Her finger is bare
and there isn’t even a hint of a ring tan line.
Although, I don’t know why I’m fucking worried about a ring, like I’m going to fuck Prez’s
daughter or some shit.
I am not.
At least that’s what I tell myself. I should not be thinking about her at all like that. What I should
be doing is putting her in the friend zone. She doesn’t exist, her body doesn’t, nothing about her does.
Except everything about her does fucking exist.
“Well, Luella, let’s get you girls loaded up and to your new place.”
She looks back at her car, then toward me, and presses her lips together.
“We have a lot of stuff,” she says on a whisper.
“This everything you own?” I ask.
She nods her head, looking up at me. Her eyes are round and almost scared, she’s definitely lost.
She doesn’t speak right away, then she takes a step toward me.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Brave.
If there was a word to describe what I know about Luella so far, it would be brave. She puts the
car seat in the single cab pickup while I start to move her shit out of the car. Everything is neatly
packed. I expect a mess of snacks and kid shit, but it’s just not there.
When I load everything up, she jumps into the pickup, scooting into the middle seat, and buckles
herself in. I climb into the driver’s seat and close the door before buckling myself in. Looking over to
her and the baby, I wonder what the fuck I’m even doing, but at the same time, I like what this is—
whatever the fuck it is.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the house. I think about asking her if she needs to stop at the store
but decide against it because there isn’t any fucking room for food in the bed and definitely not enough
room in the cab with three bodies.
Pulling in the driveway, I shift the truck into park and look ahead at the place. It’s not fancy by any
means. It was really just a way for me to get a break on my taxes. I bought a house because my
accountant told me to, but it’s not a home and it’s not a place I really give much of a fuck about.
That is obvious now that I’m scrutinizing it and wondering what she thinks about it. “It ain’t
much,” I announce, as if I have to justify anything when I know that I damn well do not.
I feel her fingers wrap around my wrist and I look over to her. “It’s more than I’ve ever had.”
“Where were you livin’?” I ask.
She licks her lips. “Trailers, then military housing, it was a townhouse, but it was the nicest place
I’d ever lived before this,” she says, but her words come out on a whisper.
Jerking my chin toward the door, I turn the engine off and unfold from the truck. Then I start to
unload. I got a bedroom that’s completely empty. No bed or anything, but I can probably call one of
the old ladies out here to bring by a twin size or something. Those bitches are always shopping and
buying new shit, trading out the old.
Walking into the house with the first load, Luella is quiet behind me, following me. I turn to the
first bedroom and set the bags down, then turn and finish the rest. She doesn’t follow me and I’m sure
it’s because she’s checking the house out.
Maybe now she realizes that it’s really not that nice. My house is just a house. Four walls, a
bathroom, and television, not much more. I hear the little girl stomping around on the hollow wood
flooring. A sound I didn’t think would ever grace this place with me as the owner.
Once I’m outside, I make a call to Ivory.
“I don’t think I want to know why Bowie is calling me in the middle of the day,” she says as her
greeting.
There is a moment of silence, then I let out a chuckle. “Got a thing. Need to know if you, or
anyone else, have an old bed they’re looking to get rid of. Mattress, too, maybe?”
“Why?” she asks.
She’s loud, invasive, obnoxious, and fucking crazy, but she’s also fun as hell. She’s true too.
Goddamn fucking true and loyal as fuck. Tiny’s been in love with her since they were kids and it’s
obvious that she runs that shit. She’s definitely not my type, more of a bulldog than I would want, but
it works for them.
“Got a situation.”
“Thinking that’s probably right, but I want details.”
I knew I should have called someone else, someone more discreet. But to be honest, I don’t think
there’s a discreet old lady in the fucking bunch of them.
“Got a woman and a baby. Can’t explain in detail. They need a place to stay. I’m never at my
place and got the room. They don’t have fuck all with them except clothes.”
“Oh Jesus,” she whispers. “I’ll round up the girls and we’ll head on over.”
“Don’t scare her. Fuck,” I hiss. “It’s temporary.”
If Ivory brings the other old ladies with her, I know without a doubt Luella is going to be scared
shitless. Hell, I’m a little intimidated by them when the three of them are together, and I’ve known
them my whole life.
“Don’t worry about what I do,” Ivory snaps.
She ends the call, and I close my eyes before letting out a sigh. Reaching for another load of
clothes and shit, I make my way back into the house.
The baby is standing at the back window, her hands on the glass, her face pressed up against it,
completely fucking smashed against it, and I can’t help but smile at the sight.
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean the glass, she just loves looking outside and being outside,” Luella says
from behind me.
I turn my head and snort. “Don’t give a fuck about that, babe. Cute as shit. Some of the old ladies
are coming over. They are going to hook you up with whatever you need, like a bed.”
“I can’t,” she cries.
The outburst surprises me and my torso jerks backward as I look down at her. Luella’s eyes are
wide and she looks terrified. Scared of help, scared to seem as though she’s taking a handout. She
doesn’t know it yet, doesn’t realize that family takes care of family and we are just that.
One big fucked-up family.
I snort. “Don’t matter. You’re going to be part of their girl gang in no time. They don’t know about
Prez being your dad and all. That’s your shit to tell, not mine. I gotta head out, but here’re the keys.
Truck’s full of gas. I’ll see you later. You need anything, tell Ivory to call me.”
Leaving, I don’t look back, I don’t even hesitate or pause. In fact, I practically run out of the
house. Because if I pause, if I hesitate and look back, then I’ll stay.
If I stay, then I’ll wonder what that life could be like. I’ll wonder if I could take her, claim her,
make her mine. Even just knowing her for minutes, I could already see myself falling for the bitch.
I can’t do that shit.
It’s not what I want.
Not what I want at all.

LUELLA

I watch him walk out of the door without looking back, leaving us alone in his space. I’m sure that I
should be glad that he’s left. He is a stranger. Someone that I have only known for hours and yet, I
got in a car with him, allowed him to take me to his place. I’m going to be staying here, too. This is
the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done and yet, I’ve never felt safer in my life.
I stare at the doorway and jump when the engine of his motorcycle revs. He roars out of his
driveway and down the street. The sound slowly disappearing as he rides away. Gripping his pickup
keys in my hand, I let out a sigh and shift my gaze over to Magnolia.
“It’s just you and me again, Mags,” I say.
She lets out a giggle, which makes me laugh, too. I scoop her up before I carry her into our new
temporary bedroom. It’s not huge, but it is empty and fairly clean. In fact, from what I can tell, the
whole place is empty and fairly clean. It’s not what I expected from a rough and rugged bachelor.
There is an older couch, a scarred-up coffee table, a card table with four chairs, and a big
television on the wall in the living room. I think that the television could maybe be more expensive
than the house itself. I don’t know what’s in his bedroom, but the rest of the house is pretty bare.
Opening up the closet doors, I’m a bit surprised to see that there are several shelves, along with
some places to hang clothes. It doesn’t take me long to make one side mine and one side Magnolia’s.
I’m able to put everything except my bras and panties away. Those, I have no clue where they’ll
reside. Maybe I can find a small dresser at the secondhand store once I get some money.

Folding the empty garbage bags that once carried all of our clothes neatly, I slide them into the
closet and place them on the floor because I’m going to need them again soon. As soon as I put the
last item away, I hear a knock on the door, then a woman’s voice calls out.
“Helloooo.”
Magnolia’s eyes brighten. “Hi,” she says in her little girl squeaky voice.
It’s so freaking cute. She turns and starts to toddle toward the bedroom door. I don’t let her pass
me immediately, though. Instead, I hold out my hand for her. Magnolia pauses and slips her hand in
mine as she impatiently waits for me to take her to see the stranger.
“Should we go and see who it is?” I ask.
Magnolia squeaks again, and together we make our way to the living room. I stumble when I see
them. I don’t know what I expected, but I did not expect them in the slightest. Three women stand in a
circle. When I enter the room, they spin around and their eyes find mine.
One of them frowns, the other arches a brow, but the third smiles. It’s a crazy kind of smile and I
wonder what she’s thinking. I couldn’t guess if I tried. The smiling one is who takes a step toward me.
She’s blonde, curvy, and beautiful. Her clothes are a little too tight, her bleached-blonde hair is pretty
big, and her makeup is heavy, but she’s pretty at the same time.
“I’m Ivory. Bowie called me. Said you needed some help, hon.”
“I’m Luella,” I say.
She hums. “And who is this adorable little creature?” she asks, bringing her red talons up and
wiggling them toward Magnolia.
“This is Magnolia.”
“I’m Ivory, this is Kia, and that’s Moxie,” she says, introducing me to the two other women.
Moxie is the one who was frowning, she looks much like Ivory. She’s curvy, wearing skintight
clothes, too much makeup, and her dark-brown hair is definitely high enough that she’s almost to
heaven.
Kia’s brow is still arched as she watches me. Her look is the exact same as the other two, except
her hair is jet black. It’s like they’re carbon copies of one another.
“Now, why don’t you tell us why you’re here, hon,” Ivory purrs.
“She doesn’t have to say nothin’,” Moxie announces, but her voice sounds rough and definitely on
edge.
Licking my lips, I look down at Magnolia, then flick my gaze back to meet theirs. I could wait
until I’ve talked to my father first, but I would venture to guess that the news has already gotten
around. I don’t know how they’re connected, but August acted as though these were women connected
to him.
“I came here to get some help from my father,” I say. They don’t respond. Instead, they continue to
watch. Clearing my throat, I continue. “My father, Hank Watson.”
“Shit,” Ivory hisses.
“Who’s he?” Moxie asks.
Something in the way Ivory watches me changes. It’s a subtle change, but it’s very there. Ivory
shakes her head, and she takes a step toward me, then another.
“Never thought I’d ever meet you in person,” Ivory whispers as she lifts her arms around me and
envelops me in a hug.
I don’t know what to do. I freeze. My hand squeezes Magnolia’s. Ivory takes a step back, keeping
her hands wrapped around my biceps as she watches me. Her eyes look directly into mine, searching.
She knows me. I don’t know her, don’t know anything about her, but she knows me. That much is
clear. I feel a bit uneasy. I don’t know what to do. So I stand there, still, my body stiff and unsure of
what to do.
“I only saw pictures of you, didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you. Little Luella Watson.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “For what, hon? You were an innocent newborn. Girls,” she calls out. “This
is Prez’s daughter.”
They can’t hide their gasps. It’s clear that not only were the men shocked to discover that my
father had a child, the women are too—the looks on their faces all change. No longer are they eyeing
me suspiciously. Now they’re looking at me not only with pure curiosity but also with a bit of
wonderment.
“We loaded up some stuff. Now, we couldn’t find a bed big enough for the two of you. Bowie just
said you had a baby, so Moxie threw in a crib just in case, but you’re almost in a big-girl bed, ain’t
you, hon?” Ivory asks, looking down at Magnolia.
“I a big girl,” she announces in her loudest voice.
Ivory chuckles, but it’s Moxie who speaks. “Of course you are, darlin’ girl.”
“C’mon out to the truck,” Kia says, lifting her hand. She’s been quiet this whole time, just taking
everything in.
We follow behind them and I pause at the sight of the pickup truck bed that is loaded with
furniture. I can’t believe that it’s there, that these women brought a whole pickup bed full of stuff to a
woman and baby that they didn’t even know.
“It’s not much. Stuff we had stacked up in our garages. Take what you can use and we’ll just haul
the rest of it all back, have one of the boys unload it for us,” Ivory says.
Shifting my gaze over to them, my lips part and I move my mouth open and closed like a fish,
unsure of what to say. Then tears start to pool in my eyes. Shaking my head, I look down at my feet,
blinking them back before I lift up and look between them, my eyes flicking back and forth.
“I can’t believe this. Thank you so much.”
My words aren’t enough, but they’re all I have right now. I don’t know what to say. I don’t think
that I could even come up with any words that could show the proper amount of appreciation that I
have for these women right now.
“We take care of our own,” Moxie announces, then walks over to the pickup and opens the back
seat.
The tears that I had been holding back instantly start to fall when she pulls out two bags of
groceries, then two more, then two more, and then two more. It’s too much. Far too much for the likes
of me. My eyes are wet, but my throat is dry.
When the women are finished, I don’t have a bed, but there is a dresser, a nightstand, a crib that
was able to be converted to a toddler bed, and a gliding chair with an ottoman. Not to mention a
whole kitchen full of groceries. I can even bake cookies if I want, there is everything for chocolate
chip ones.
I’m beyond speechless and for a brief moment, I feel like maybe, just maybe, something is going
to go my way. That this was the right decision, that I’ve come to the right place.
Maybe.
 CHAPTER FIVE

LUELLA

S
year.
tripping down the sheets in the master bedroom, I throw them in the wash and look around.
Magnolia has eaten, bathed, and is asleep in bed for the night. She’s had a tough few days and
is exhausted. I don’t blame her. I feel the exact same way. I feel like I could sleep for an entire

Looking around the master bedroom, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s just as sparsely
furnished as the rest of the house. There is a king-size bed resting on a bed frame, but no headboard or
footboard, instead it’s pushed up against the wall.
There is one nightstand, one dresser, and a television on the wall. Again, the television is nice and
definitely the focal point. The comforter is plain blue and there are zero pillows other than the ones to
sleep on.
This shouldn’t surprise me, but I don’t know. I thought that he might have a picture or something
on the wall. But there’s nothing personal like that anywhere. He really must use this as a crash pad
because there are hardly even any clothes in the closet.
Once the sheets are dry, I put them on the bed and take a long shower, then with a heavy sigh, I
slip between those warm, dry sheets. It’s been days since I’ve slept in a bed or slept at all. Total
exhaustion completely takes over my entire body.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out.

T he sun shines into the room and that’s when I realize that I didn’t close the blinds last night. I
groan, rolling over, irritated with myself because I’m still exhausted. I push myself up to a
seated position, at least I try. As soon as I shift my body, something lands heavily across my lap and I
try not to let out a scream.
Looking down, I gasp at the sight of the strong, heavily tattooed arm that is across my lap.
Oh my God.
Panic flows through me at the sight of the arm, then sliding my gaze over that arm, I look over to
the man it’s attached to. His face is relaxed, his lips pursed slightly as his cheek is pressed against the
pillow and he faces me.
I don’t know what to do.
I am frozen. I don’t know if I’m frozen in fear or what the feeling is exactly, but my body is
definitely freaking frozen solid. He makes a grunting noise, then he opens one eye and focuses on me.
He doesn’t say anything right away, he just watches me for a long silent moment. His eyes searching
mine.
“Mornin’, sugar,” he rasps, his lips curving up into a grin.
If I didn’t know myself better, I would wonder why he’s looking at me the way that he is and then I
would be worried that maybe we slept together.
I was pretty exhausted and no doubt delirious to a degree, but it’s been almost two years since
I’ve had sex. I’m without a doubt certain I would physically feel that ache between my legs if I did
somehow sleep with him in my delirium.
“What are you doing here?” I ask on a whisper.
He clears his throat but doesn’t move his arm from across my lap. He is relaxed and comfortable
right where he is. In fact, it doesn’t look like he has any intention of moving at all—ever. As if he’s
completely made himself at home and I’m stiff and unsure of what to do and even of how I feel.
“It’s my bed, babe.”
Licking my lips, I press them together and try not to let out a growl at his nonanswer. “Yes, but
you said that you were never here and that we could stay here.”
His lips curve up into a slow smile. Almost a cat-ate-the-canary kind of smile and then he lets out
a low chuckle.
“Said that, didn’t I?” he asks.
I don’t bother responding to his words. Instead, I watch him, waiting for him to make some sense,
to answer me in some way. He lets out a sigh and pulls me a little closer to him. My entire body
stiffens even more at the move.
This was a bad idea.
Me coming here, me staying here, all of it. That sense of comfort has fled my entire being. I don’t
know what to do. I don’t know what to believe and this man came into this house where my baby is
sleeping and I didn’t even wake up. That is what has me the most upset. Not that he’s here next to me,
but that I didn’t even hear him and Magnolia is here.
“Babe,” he calls out.
Shifting my gaze down to his, I lick my lips. “Was exhausted. Had a long night. Came home,
wasn’t even thinking. Walked into the room, saw you. Remembered you were here and decided, fuck
it, and went to sleep. Figured I’d be gone before you even woke up.”
“None of this makes me feel any better at all,” I breathe.
He frowns, his eyes focused on mine, nowhere else. “Think I’d hurt you or the kid?” he asks.
At least he gets it. He understands my concerns, even if it’s obvious that he is offended by my
words and more so at my thoughts. I roll my lips a few times, and it’s his turn for his body to stiffen.
He’s angry, I can almost see the waves of that anger roll off of him.
“I don’t know what I think, because I don’t know you,” I say, stressing the word know.
He’s quiet. His body losing some of the rigidness and he holds my gaze for a brief moment before
he shifts up to a seated position, losing his hold on my hips.
“Guess you’re right. I know that I would never hurt a woman. I would die before hurting a child,
but you don’t know that.”
 “I don’t,” I whisper.
He nods his head. “Serious as fuck, was exhausted. I forgot y’all were here. Nothing sinister,
nothing more, nothing less.”
“Okay,” I say.
He watches me for another quiet moment, as if he’s contemplating something. Then he chuckles,
and it’s as if all of the anger just disappears.
“Gotta head back to work. You need something, call down to the garage, number’s on the magnet
on the fridge. Don’t got much here, but I have a house phone, you can use that as you wish. Prez said
he’d be by later today to talk to you.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “Okay.”
He lifts his hand, wrapping his fingers around the side of my neck. His fingers are firm, his hand
is warm, and his gaze focuses on mine. He holds it for a beat before he nods his head.
“Yeah,” he says.
I don’t know what that yeah means, but I don’t ask him either. It seems as though he’s saying it to
himself, as if he didn’t mean to actually say it aloud. His gaze searches mine, and he leans forward,
touching his lips to mine in a swift kiss.
By the time it registers to my brain what has just happened, he pushes out of bed and is walking
toward the bathroom in the small hallway just a few feet away. I stare at him. Lifting my hand to my
mouth, my fingers touching my lips and I suck in a breath.
Turning my head, I watch him go, wondering what in the fuck has just happened and why? Then, I
wonder why I want more of it. I have zero guilt, either. I wanted more, and that surprises the hell out
of me.

BOWIE

I didn’t think I’d give a fuck whether Prez’s hot daughter was sleeping in my bed or not, but I do. It
really fucking matters and I really fucking care. I tried to stay away all night long, tried really
fucking hard, but my mind kept drifting back to her in my house.
Never had a woman in my bed before like that. Walking in last night after being tired as fuck, it
was kinda nice to curl up next to someone warm and soft. I don’t think I would feel the same way if it
was a different woman, but there’s something about her.
She’s sweet too, not just in looks and body, but taste. Makes me wonder what her pussy would
taste like. Makes me want to find out too—soon. Pretty sure Prez might cut my balls off if I tried.
However, he didn’t seem to give a fuck that she was staying at my place, so then again, maybe not.
He didn’t raise her, doesn’t really know her, and judging by how much he was drinking last night,
he’s not really sure of what to do with the whole situation anyway.
Walking into the garage, I let out a grunt as I sit down on the bench and start to pull on my
coveralls. Today I’m working on a mom-van. Totally not my style, but the mom in question is in
trouble, needs this shit fixed fast so she can get the kids to school tomorrow morning.
It's a girl I went to school with, she married the guy she was dating in school and they have four
fuckin’ kids. I’m fixing it myself for her, discounted labor, pretty much charging for cost of parts only.
Her husband’s been out of work a while, don’t know why, but she’s trying to handle her shit and I feel
bad.
 Call me a bleeding heart or whatever. No sense in fucking over someone who is seriously trying
to just survive. That’s not my style.
“Bowie,” Prez shouts from across the bay.
Looking over to him, I notice he looks kind of pissed and I’m not sure why. Pulling up my
coveralls, I wrap the sleeves around my waist, tie them, and head toward him. He’s standing with his
arms crossed over his chest and I don’t know what’s pissed him off between three this morning and
now, but it seems like I’ve done something. Or maybe he’s just got a massive fucking hangover.
Wouldn’t surprise me, the way he was sucking drinks back last night.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“My office,” he snaps.
He sounds like a goddamn bear. I watch as he spins around and I follow him toward his office.
Walking behind him, I wonder just what in the fuck he’s pissed about. Stepping into his office, I close
the door behind me as he walks around his desk and sinks down into the chair.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
Arching a brow, I sit down on the old leather couch that’s across from his desk. He levels me with
a look but doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he stares straight ahead. Then he clears his throat.
“Luella,” he says, his voice a bit softer than it was just moments ago. “Tell me about her.”
I’m a bit surprised. He has never shown an ounce of anything other than pure confidence. Seeing
him right now, doubting and questioning, makes me realize that he’s human. He’s always been larger
than life, a take the world by the balls kind of man, but these two girls, I think they could actually
have him by the balls.
“Why don’t you go and talk to her? She’s expecting you today.”
He shakes his head once. Then clears his throat. “After what she said yesterday, not sure I should
talk to her. Fucked up big time,” he says.
It’s clear he’s feeling uneasy, and it’s not just because they’re here. It’s because he made a
decision when he was a kid and he feels like he fucked up. I’m really not sure how I feel about that.
Prez has always been the biggest badass in the room. He owns the place, consumes it, fucks it,
chews it up, and spits it out later. He is not unsure or self-conscious in anything that he does. He is the
man. He is the Prez. He is the Nasty Bastard.
“She’s scared. Don’t know the story, didn’t ask. But heard her introduce herself with a different
last name. Watson-Foster. Don’t know what that means. She wasn’t wearing a ring. Little girl’s cute
as hell too. Seems she just needs help and doesn’t have anywhere else to go to get it.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Don’t think she’s on drugs or anything?” he asks.
I don’t know why the fuck he’s asking me. I’m not the best judge of goddamn character myself.
Watching him for a moment, I shake my head a couple of times. Luella could be on some shit, but I
don’t think she is. She seems pretty solid.
“Prez, I don’t know what the fuck you want. She seemed good to me. But you gotta go talk to her
yourself.”
“Spent twenty years not talking to her or about her.”
“Yeah, best you get your head outta your ass on that one. Thinking she’s the only family you got
and vice versa.”
His gaze holds mine for a long moment, then he lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair. He
watches me before he flicks his eyes to the ceiling.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
“‘Bout sums it up, brother.”
 He groans, then he places his palms on his desk and pushes up to stand. “Fine. I’ll go fucking talk
to her.”
Laughing, I shake my head as he walks out of the room, then I wonder if I should have kept him
away from her and to my fucking self? I could have. Could have told him to forget about her, to just
ignore her. Could have kept all that for just myself, been her goddamn knight and saved her.
“Brother,” Riff calls out from the front.
Making my way out there, I see goddamn Penny standing in the entrance. Fuck. Her skirt so short I
can practically see her pussy and it’s not even ten in the morning yet. She wasn’t at the clubhouse last
night, didn’t ask, didn’t question why. I was kind of glad she wasn’t, but I did wake up with blue balls
being next to Luella.
Jesus fucking Christ.
 CHAPTER SIX

LUELLA

M agnolia and I eat breakfast outside. It’s cooler than it was yesterday afternoon and I have
a feeling that it’s going to get really hot again. So, we take advantage of the weather.
August doesn’t have any patio seating, instead I improvise and drag the card table and
two chairs outside. I’ll move them back in when we go inside. But it’s too nice of a day not to be out
here and enjoy the morning.
I don’t deserve the kindness of the women who came by yesterday, but I appreciate it more than
they could ever know. They’ve done something that I don’t think anyone has done lately. They’ve
made me feel loved, and special. Like I could be part of something bigger than just me and Mags.
I make a note on my phone to repay them for what they bought us. Though I know that I could
never repay them for the way that they’ve made me feel. Magnolia eats her eggs, pancake, and
strawberries, wiggling in her chair as she does it, happy to be alive, happy to just be.
Looking around, I wonder if this could be my life? It’s fun imagining myself here, but the reality is
that I won’t stay. I can’t. I’m not with August. I don’t even know him.
As much fun as it is to imagine, the reality is that I’m alone. I’ll probably always be alone. But it’s
been nice to know that I can actually feel again. After two years of feeling nothing but sadness, there
was a glimmer yesterday and this morning of something more deep down inside of me.
There’s a noise behind me, the sound of the patio door opening and closing. Turning my head, I
expect to see August, but that isn’t who is standing there. It’s someone else. Someone that I wasn’t
sure would show up at all.
It’s him.
It’s my father.
It’s Hank Watson.
I start to stand, but he holds up his hand and I watch as he drags one of the chairs over to us. His
eyes are on me the entire time, then Magnolia makes a noise, and he jerks his head, almost as if he’s
surprised to see her sitting at the table.
His lips tip up at the sight of her and I can’t help but smile at the way he watches her.
“Don’t know what to say,” he announces when he finally speaks.
Smiling, I reach across the small table and place my hand on the top of his. “Me either.”
 “You came here,” he announces.
Licking my lips, I shift my hand away from his. “I did. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know
where else to go. I’ve never felt so helpless.”
Admitting that. God, it hurts every single part of me. I should not ever feel helpless. I’m a mother.
I’m twenty years old. I should be independent and strong. But I’m not. I’m nowhere even close.
“Wanna tell me?”
I think about lying to him, or at least only telling him a partial truth. I don’t know if I can trust him.
I don’t know anything about him other than his name, where he lives, and the name of his shop.
I only know the name of the shop and the town he lives in because I found it when I Googled his
name. Nothing else about him came up though, not that I looked that hard—I didn’t.
There is a moment of silence and a look that passes between us, and I realize that he isn’t going to
let this go. I need to tell him the truth, but I feel really vulnerable. I don’t think that I’ve been
vulnerable with anyone except him. Not really, anyway.
“I moved in with my boyfriend, pretty much the day I turned eighteen, then I got pregnant. He
saved me from being on the streets, joined the Marines and everything for us. We got married before
Magnolia was born, when he came home from bootcamp.”
My father’s brows furrow as he watches me, probably expecting a tortured story of abuse or
something. It’s what I would think if someone showed up at my door, with a baby on her hip, no
money and a broken-down car.
“He went MIA. while overseas last year. I was receiving full benefits for a year. They just
informed me that his paychecks would be stopping and that I needed to vacate housing, considering he
was being declared deceased. I’m supposed to get a one-time settlement, but I don’t know when that’s
coming. I didn’t know what to do.”
Saying the words out loud makes me feel even more pathetic than I did. The look of pity on my
father’s face doesn’t help me at all. I want to stand up, turn around and run. Even if his pity is
appropriate.
“You came to the right place,” he oddly announces.
“I did?” I ask.
He chuckles. “You did. Both of you did. It’s time I acted like a fucking adult. I’m over forty. I have
a kid and a grandkid. As much as I don’t want to admit I’m old enough to be a goddamn grandfather,”
he grumbles. “But I’ve done absolutely nothing to support you in any way, monetarily or otherwise the
last twenty years. It’s time for me to be the man that I know I am. I can do that now.”
“Why would you?” I ask.
“Family, Lu. We’re family and I shouldn’t have walked away when I did. I was fucking young and
goddamn dumb. I wasn’t thinking about you or anyone else but myself.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
I don’t want to presume too much. I don’t want to assume that he’s going to do everything for me. I
don’t want him to either. What I want is to be able to do things for myself, right now I just need a little
help getting there.
He smiles, then flicks his gaze to Magnolia. “First off, I gotta find a place big enough for the three
of us. My house is the same size as this one. Two beds, one bath. Can’t do that with two ladies in the
house. Let me look around, you good staying here for a while?”
Am I good staying with the sexiest man I’ve ever met? Absolutely not. My father chuckles,
somehow reading my mind. I start to say something, but I press my lips together instead. I’m not
saying shit, because nothing is going to happen with August.
 Nothing at all.
The peck that he gave me this morning, the platonic sleeping beside one another. That is as far as
any of this is going to go. Ever. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“We’ll get this figured out, Lu. You and me.”
“You’re not married?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Never been, got no desire to be either. You’re my girls, how about that?”
My lips turn up into a smile. I reach across the table and wrap my fingers around his wrist. “I’m
glad I came here,” I say, feeling relieved for the first time in two years.
He grins. “Me too.”

BOWIE

P enny shimmies her skirt down, then leans forward and tries to touch her mouth to mine. Turning
my head to the side, her lips drag across my cheek. Taking a step back, I let out a grunt as I use
the back of my hand to wipe the red shit off my face from her lips.
“Why don’t you want more? We could be so good together,” she whines.
This is the problem with fucking wannabes. Penny wants to be an old lady. She wants to be on the
back of a Nasty Bastards bike. She wants a helluva lot. She wants all this shit that she’ll never get, at
least from me, probably not from any of my brothers, either.
“Thought you understood that this was just fucking, nothing else.”
She nods her head a couple of times, her eyes widening as she attempts to look sad. It doesn’t
work. Nothing about her looks sad, except for the fake tears building in her eyes. She is a mistake.
This is a mistake for a multitude of reasons. One of them being that there is another woman I want
inside of more than any other I’ve ever wanted inside of before. Then there’s the fact that I want
absolutely nothing to do with this bitch, with or without the first reason.
“I do. A girl can hope, though,” she says in a soft whisper.
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I don’t bother responding. Instead, I turn around and walk back to
my bay. I need to get this van finished out for Rebecca. She’s got four kids to cart around and doesn’t
need to wait because my cock can’t stay in my pants.
Thankfully, Penny doesn’t bother me the rest of the day. But she’s the only one who leaves me
alone. I get halfway through my minivan job when I hear the clickity-clack of high heels.
“Bowie,” a voice screeches.
Lifting my head, I look around the car and directly into the eyes of what appears to be a pissed-off
biker babe.
“Ivory,” I say as I reach for the cloth and wipe the grease off of my hands.
She watches me for a moment, narrowing her eyes on me as she stares. “That girl,” she
announces.
For a minute, I think she’s talking about Penny and I freeze. Then she clears her throat and
continues.
“You had her there with no food. Thankfully, I know all about you men and your habits, so I knew
to stop by the store. There with a baby and no food.”
“Warned her I didn’t have any, did she complain?” I ask, feeling a little pissed off at Ivory’s
words. If Luella complained about me, I don’t know how I’d take that. I warned her ass what she was
getting into… well, mostly.
“Of course she didn’t complain. I don’t think she would, even if she could.”
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
Ivory inhales a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Next time just tell me there’s no food.”
“Won’t be a next time,” I say with a chuckle.
Her lips curve up into a devious smile and I have a feeling that she’s reading far too fucking much
into this, then again, would she even be wrong? Probably not. I want Luella Watson. I want her
fucking bad. As much as I think that I’m going to be able to resist my urges, I have a feeling I’ll be
inside of her soon enough.
“I’m sure there won’t,” she purrs. “But just to say, warn me next time. And when you’re warning,
tell me who the fuck she’s the daughter of.”
“Not my place, Vee.”
She shakes her head, taking a step back. “Yeah, yeah. You fuckin’ men,” she grumbles. “Where’s
my old man?”
“Tiny’s down at the clubhouse. Working on some paperwork for the charity thing next weekend.”
Ivory doesn’t say anything else, she spins around on her toes and takes off down the shop and out
the roll-up door that heads to the parking lot. I laugh, shaking my head. That woman is a goddamn
spitfire. She even scares me a little.
“She grab you by the balls?” Ironfist asks.
“She wishes,” I snort.
He bursts out laughing. “Better not let her catch you sayin’ that shit.”
Grinning over to him, I shake my head once, then get back to work. Ironfist doesn’t say anything
else, he’s too busy focusing on the sweet ride he’s souping up. A hotrod he’s been working on for a
few weeks.
It’s a sweet ride, too.
I try not to think about something else that is sweet, or rather someone, as I finish working on
Rebecca’s mom’s van.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

LUELLA

A fter my father leaves, I spend the day cleaning up August’s place. It doesn’t take me long,
not because it was already super clean, but rather because it’s small. I don’t know what
else to do, I’m not used to being idle.
So, after I clean, Magnolia and I bake cookies. Then, I stare at the clock and wonder if I should
make dinner for him or just the two of us.
Shaking my head, I decide it’s stupid to play house with him. We aren’t a couple, we aren’t
anything. I need to focus on Magnolia and our future. What I don’t need to do is think about that man—
ever.
After the cookies are cooling on a plate, since there is no cooling rack, I bake some chicken. With
it, I make some rice and steam some green beans. Stupidly, I make enough for two adults and a little
extra for Magnolia. Possibly just out of hope, but I tell myself it’s so that I can have the leftovers for
lunch tomorrow.
I’m just starting to put some food on two plates, one for me and one for Magnolia, when I hear the
front door open and close. I freeze where I am, my hands even suspended slightly in the air.
A deep voice calls out and my body jerks, but also warms at the sound. “What in the ever-loving
hell is that heavenly smell?”
My lips automatically curve up into a smile. I should not be so happy to hear his voice and his
praise over my cooking. But pride washes over me that he likes the smell of my cooking. I try to wipe
the goofy grin off of my face, but I know that I completely fail. Turning my head, I look back and see
August standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“You made dinner?” he asks.
I blink. I mean, I made enough for him, but that was out of subconscious hope. I didn’t really
expect him to be here for dinner. As much as I wanted him to be.
“I did. It’s not much,” I say.
He shakes his head. “It looks fuckin’ amazing, sugar,” he says, his lips twitching into a grin.
“Make me a plate?” he asks. “I’m going to jump in the shower real quick. I’ll meet you at the table.”
I nod my head. This is the most domestic thing I’ve done in almost two years. I don’t know why,
but it does make me feel warm and fuzzy. It shouldn’t. I should be feeling uncomfortable and not
hopeful that this could lead anywhere.
“You’re crazy, Luella,” I whisper to myself as I do exactly what he asks.
By the time the food is on the table and Magnolia is taking her first bite, August is jogging through
the house shirtless in just a pair of sweatpants. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him making his way
toward me.
If he was gorgeous clothed, that has nothing on him sans shirt. When he passed out in bed next to
me, he, for whatever reason, still had a shirt on. But right now, seeing him, my entire body spasms. He
even has that V, just like I thought he would. But his body is a little bulkier than I’d anticipated. He’s
full of muscle, there’s no doubt about it, but it’s also clear he doesn’t mind eating a cheeseburger.
“This smells and looks amazing. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal,” he
announces as he sits down across from me.
Magnolia is making little noises of appreciation as she eats, as she always does. He chuckles and
digs in, then he closes his eyes and makes his own noises.
“It’s just baked chicken and some rice,” I say. “It’s definitely not a culinary masterpiece.”
August shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s epic.”
“Why are you here?” I ask, then pinch my eyes closed and inhale a deep breath. Opening my eyes,
I let out my breath. “That was rude, and I didn’t mean to ask it like that.”
“It’s all good. I don’t know,” he says.
“You don’t know?”
He shakes his head, then shrugs his shoulder. “Nope. There was a party tonight. I should probably
go, but I didn’t feel like it.”
Stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork, I bring it to my lips and start to chew. I’m not sure what
to say to that, but I feel like I need to respond. I’m trying to think of something to say when he speaks
first.
“I wanted to get to know you better. Plus, had a long day at work. I kept getting interrupted.
Worked through lunch and everything.”
“Is that why you’re enjoying the chicken so much, you’re starving?” I ask.
He lifts his head, his lips twitching into a grin as he looks across the card table at me. He shakes
his head once.
“No, it’s good, sugar. So tell me something about you.”
“Are you going to tell me something about you?” I ask.
He stops shoveling food in his mouth, his fork suspending midair at my question. He doesn’t say
anything immediately. His eyes find mine and he holds my gaze. He clears his throat, then straightens
as he leans back slightly.
“I might.”
“Might?” I ask.
He grins. “Depends on how deep you go.”
“Will you go deep?” I ask.
August watches me for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine, and he nods his head once. I don’t
know if he’s talking about a deep conversation or something completely different, and then again, I’m
not sure I care either way.
“For you, yeah.”
I’m not sure what that means, that he’s even talking about the same thing that I am, but I want it to
mean something—anything. I should inwardly scold myself for that want, for that desire, but I don’t.
He has been gone for over a year. I’ve mourned him, but he’s not here anymore and I am. I’m only
twenty. I want love, too. I need to feel something again, and this is the first time I’ve even had an
inkling of desire.

BOWIE

W atching her for a moment, I wonder what exactly this is. Could this be real? Could this be
something? I don’t know what is going on with me, with her, with either of us, but for
whatever reason, I’m not against any of it, either.
I should be running far, far away, hell with anyone else I would have. She’s different, Luella is
completely different. I don’t feel like she’s looking at me because she wants something from me. I’m
giving her things, sure, but she doesn’t want them.
Right now, she needs them and she’s hesitant as shit about me and about what I’m offering. I don’t
blame her. I feel the same way about her, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t control myself. I have the
need to protect her. It’s almost a living, breathing thing.
“There isn’t much to tell,” she says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Doubt that,” I say.
She tilts her head to the side as she stabs a piece of chicken with her fork. “My mom died when I
was sixteen. I went into a group home. That’s pretty much all I got.”
“Your childhood wasn’t all roses.”
“It wasn’t,” she says, though her words come out on a whisper.
I watch her for a moment, wondering if she’s going to say anything else. She doesn’t. Pressing my
lips together, I figure I should tell her something.
“Know what it’s like, a little at least.”
“Do you?” she asks.
Nodding my head, I level her with a gaze. I watch her for a moment, then clear my throat. “My
mom wasn’t around. Left when I was four. Don’t remember her much. My dad wasn’t so great either.
When he was around, he was okay, but he was always gone.”
“With work?” she naively asks.
“And other things,” I say on a chuckle.
Thankfully, she doesn’t ask much else and I don’t elaborate. Maybe one day I will, when she
knows about the club. Eventually, I have no doubt that she’ll know, but right now, she doesn’t know
shit and Prez wants to keep it that way.
When she’s immersed in the family, she’ll have to know. There will be no way to hide it. But I
have no doubt that he wants to explain it to her himself. And I think that he wants her comfortable here
too, before he tells her about the MC.
“My husband was in the military,” she announces, then her eyes widen as if she didn’t mean to
actually say that aloud. Then she looks over to Magnolia, who is still eating her dinner without a care
in the world. “He went missing in action a little over a year ago, now they’ve declared him dead,
officially.”
Fuck.
Of fucking course.
She’s got a husband somewhere.
Fucking shit.
 “That why you’re here, then?”
She shrugs a shoulder, looking over at the baby, then shifts her gaze back to meet mine. I see the
sadness now, lurking behind her eyes.
“We didn’t have anywhere to go, me and her. We couldn’t stay in housing anymore. His benefits,
along with his paycheck, have stopped. I’m supposed to get a one-time settlement, but I don’t know
when. I’m twenty with a baby and I have no way to take care of her. I was hoping Hank could help me
get on my feet.”
“He will,” I say, without hesitation. “You have a whole fuckin’ family here now, Luella.”
She nods her head, her gaze finding mine and holding it for a moment. Then she clears her throat
and shifts in her seat a few times. I can tell that she has something she wants to say, but she doesn’t
speak right away.
Magnolia announces that she’s done. I watch as Luella cleans her face and hands before she picks
her up and lets her down on the floor. She walks over to some blocks and sits down, quietly beginning
to play.
“I know that it’s not very independent of me to come here and beg for help, to accept all that
you’ve offered and what Hank is offering me, but—”
Lifting my hand, I shake my head to stop her from speaking. She does. Her eyes finding mine and
holding my gaze. I can tell that she wants to continue her speech, but I don’t let her. I don’t want to
hear that shit. Not now, not ever.
“Family helps family, babe. No fuckin’ reason for you to feel any kind of way about that. You’re
young and you got a kid to feed. Don’t you dare feel less than for asking for help when it comes to
her.”
She licks her lips, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze. She nods her head once, then
inhales a deep breath before letting it out.
“I still feel like I should be doing more, better, whatever.”
Lifting my hand, I reach across the table and wrap my fingers around the side of her neck. Sliding
my thumb along her bottom lip, I follow the path with my eyes, then look up at her and hold her gaze.
Those blue eyes tell me everything. She’s been hurt, she’s been lost, she’s been alone.
That shit’s done with now.
Not anymore.
Never. Again.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

LUELLA

R un.
That’s my first instinct.
Run fast.
Except, when I look into his dark eyes, I want to do anything but run. Or maybe that’s not true. I
want to run alright, straight toward him. I want to wrap my entire body around him, consume him.
Maybe even own him.
I don’t know where the thoughts come from, but every second that I’m near him, they come on
harder and faster.
He drops his hand and clears his throat. I shift back in my chair and start to gather all of the
dishes, then practically run to the kitchen.
Looking behind me, I check on Mags, who is just sitting in the middle of the now clean living
room floor playing with the blocks that Ivory dropped off this morning. It doesn’t take me long to
clean up, I usually clean as I go while I’m cooking, so I just need to load up the dishwasher.
When I’m finished, I go back into the living room. Magnolia is on the floor, but August is nowhere
to be seen. Instead of looking for him, I go about our nightly routine. I give her a bath, then lotion her
down and change her into her unicorn pajamas.
Once she’s all calm and clean, I carry her to her bed and lay her down. Grabbing her favorite
book, I start to read. Her thumb is in her mouth and her eyes are starting to close by the end of the first
page.
When I’m in the middle of the book, she’s out like a light. She’ll sleep all night too, unless she has
a bad dream or is sick. I really hit the jackpot with Magnolia. She was the best baby. I have heard
other parents complain about their children not sleeping through the night until they’re five or six
years old and she has been since she was six weeks old.
Leaving her room, I close the door behind me and almost scream at the sight of August standing in
the hall, his back against the wall. He smirks as he watches me for a silent moment. Then he pushes
off of the wall and takes the one step needed toward me to close the distance between us.
“August,” I breathe as he looks directly into my eyes.
He’s inches from me, so close that I could rise to my toes and touch my lips to his, but I don’t. I
wouldn’t, anyway. I don’t know if this is what I want, but at the same time, I know that this is exactly
what I need.
I’m drawn to him in a way where I don’t think I’ll ever be able to just forget about him. I don’t
think I’ll be able to ignore him, forget this feeling. I think that I need to explore it. Because if I don’t,
then I’ll always wonder. Then again, if I do, will the guilt consume me?
“Luella,” he murmurs. Then he clears his throat and takes a step back. He turns slightly and lifts
his hand. “Let’s watch a movie or something?”
“A movie,” I say, repeating his words softly.
Maybe sitting through a movie will calm my body and my racing heart down. Maybe it will give
me enough time to think about the repercussions of doing anything too soon, too rash, too much.
He walks away, toward the living room, and I follow. A movie is a good idea. I remind myself
that I don’t really know him at all. I know absolutely nothing about him. Even if I am feeling some
kind of way about him, the reality is he’s a stranger.
I need to keep reminding myself of that.
He’s a stranger.
“Why are you here tonight?” I ask as I sink down in the corner of the couch.
He’s sitting at the other corner, his body facing mine, his legs spread. He looks completely
comfortable. Meanwhile, I feel totally nervous. I know that I shouldn’t, that nothing is going to
happen, but that doesn’t stop the way that I feel and what I think that I want.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Felt the need I guess.”
Felt the need.
God, I don’t know why, but that’s sexy as hell. Everything about him is sexy, though. The way his
jeans are so worn that they fit him perfectly. They’re tighter in the thighs and come out slightly at the
boot. They just look soft, too.
His shirt is the same, soft looking and so worn. His vest, much of the same. He looks like he
shops at vintage stores, but I know these are his clothes, his everyday uniform that he just wears until
they’re too tattered to wear any longer. Because he doesn’t care about fashion, he doesn’t care about
style. He’s all about traditional comfort and I love that.
“August. What’s happening?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a shit-eating grin and he shakes his head once. “Nothin’ you don’t want to
happen, sugar.”
And that’s when I know, without a doubt, that something is definitely going to happen. I can feel it
deep down inside of me, to my bones. I want it just as much as he does. He has to. I can see it in his
eyes, or maybe I want to see it. Whatever the case, things are going to happen.

BOWIE

T here’s something about the way she says my name. Maybe it’s because she’s the only person to
call me by it in decades, but I just fucking love it. Too much. I know that this is wrong. I should
go back to the clubhouse, fuck a girl there, fuck Penny, fuck anyone but her.
I can’t though.
I cannot make myself walk out of this house. Even though I know that I should, I’m going to hurt
her, without a goddamn doubt. I’m going to destroy her, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s had
Another random document with
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[1425] Meanes. 1575, 78. N.
[1426] God didst suffer so. 1575, 78. N.
[1427] Heady. 1563.
[1428] For that they are neare to. 1575, 78. N.
[1429] Hyghest. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.
[1430] Laughed. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.
[1431] The excesse. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.
[1432] Hane. 1587.
[1433] Foule, misprint. 1587.
[1434]

Had not the Troyans hares foolishe forthright eyen?

But since the time was come that I should dye. 1575,
78. N.

[1435] Was. 1575, 78. N.

[1436] Nay. N.
[1437] Within the which I. 1575, 78.
[1438] Thy. 1587.
[1439] ‘Now,’ restored from list of faults escaped in ed. 1563. It
is omitted in every edition.
[1440] Tending 1571, 87.
[1441] Doe neuer care. 1575, 78. N.
[1442] The passage from the line beginning “That twinckling
sterres,” to the one ending “at the poorest gates,” (l. 4, st. 92,
p. 305,) which commences fo. Cx and concludes page b, of fo.
Cxiii, forming sheet O in the edition of 1563, was, by some
error, omitted in the editions of 1571 and 1587. Perhaps the
edition of 1571 was printed from a copy of the preceding one,
wanting that sheet, and that of 1587 taken from the reprint,
without the deficiency being discovered. The above text, for
the lines restored, is from the edition of 1578.
[1443] Taxe. 1563.
[1444] It, misprint. 1578. N.
[1445] But euen last fyne. 1563.
[1446] He. N.
[1447] Stately. N.
[1448] Might. N.
[1449] For he. 1563.
[1450] Ye. 1563.
[1451] That thus maddeth his. 1563.
[1452] Is, misprint. 1578.
[1453] Furrwed, misprint. 1578.
[1454] What earned they, whoe me. 1563.
[1455] Might. N.
[1456] Iohn Baptists’ dishe. 1563.
[1457] His. 1563.
[1458] Downe tottreth whoe. 1563.
[1459] Of. 1563.
[1460] No. 1563.
[1461] Thyne. 1563.
[1462] From dunghill couche vpsterte. 1563.
[1463] Resollve. 1563.
[1464] Hit dissolueth. 1563.
[1465] And. 1563.
[1466] Fleeteth. 1563, 75.
[1467] Wynd doth. 1563.
[1468] Then fed they fame by. 1563.
[1469] Nought. 1575, 78.
[1470] Spare his quyted fame. 1563.
[1471] Might. N.
[1472] End of the passage omitted. See note, p. 296.
[1473] By this sloape. 1575, 78. N.
[1474] Whose hasty death, if it doe any. 1575, 78. N.
[1475] Her, misprint. 1587.
[1476] The aged. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.
[1477] Godly. 1575, 78. N.
[1478] To engraue. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.
[1479]

Who spareth not speaking, with danger of his bloud:

Yet, loe, this noble lord did thinke it good
To cleare the innocent, not to spare to speake,
Although his shoulders with his bloud should reake.
1575, 78. N.

[1480] Who. 1563, 71, 75, 78. N.

[1481] Seruice honour to. 1575, 78. N.
[1482] Tracke. 1575, 78. N.
[1483] Iohn Dolman. Ritson, in the Bibliographia Poetica, art.
Dolman, has mentioned a manuscript note upon this legend
describing it as “evidently the worst in the collection.” That
note is written in a copy of the edition by Niccols, now in the
possession of Mr. Heber, and being so quoted has given it
more importance than it is worth; but, for the sake of juxta
position, the whole is now given. “The stile of this legend,
which is evidently the worst in the collection, and in this edition
much alter’d from the three former publications of it, convinced
me the author of it was not Drayton. By the second edition of
these poems, printed A. 1563, this poem appears to have
been penned by Maister Dolman.” Whatever credit may be
given to this writer as a critic, his statement is too erroneous to
be of any value, as the principal alterations made by Dolman
are inserted in the edition of 1575, and the above signature is
not to be found in that of 1563, but first appears in 1571.
[1484] Q. 1563.
[1485] Purposed with him selfe to. 1563.
[1486] This celebrated poem was reprinted in Mrs. Cooper’s
Muse’s Library, 1738, from the edition of 1610. By Capell in
the Prolusions, 1760. from those of 1563 and 71, with the text
modernized. And also by Warton in the History of English
Poetry, 1781, Vol. III. from the edition of 1610, who adopted
most of the emendations of Capell. Also, in Anderson’s Poets,
Vol. I. 1793; from the first edition.
[1487] In two copies of the edition of 1563 is the following
variation. In the title one has “The Induction:” the other
“Mayster Sackuille’s Induction.”
[1488] Hastning. N.
[1489] This line was also altered in the first edition while at
press, as in one copy the reading is,

“The tapets torne and euery tree downe blowen:”

and is uniformly repeated in the subsequent editions,

which also adopt the running title of “Mayster Sackuille’s
Induction,” following the copy where the alteration to “tree”
appears, though the head title conforms to the other copy. It
therefore remains uncertain which was intended as the
correction. “Bloom” is the reading preferred by Capell and
Warton, and the context appears to confirm the adoption. In a
preceding line the blustering blasts of winter are said to have
bared the trees, and the poet goes on to describe that the cold
had pierced the green, had rent and overthrown the mantles of
the groves, had torn the tapets, or tapistry, and blown down
every bloom. In this picture there is not any thing extravagant,
or beyond the usual effects of winter, whereas were every tree
down blown, it would amount to a hurricane, and not to the
common decay of nature despoiling the earth of the flowers
wherewith it was clad by summer, and as described by the
poet in the following stanza. J. H.
I would prefer “tree” notwithstanding. Bloom applies to
spring, not autumn. E. B.
[1490] Walk. Capell.
[1491] The remainder of this stanza and the next omitted by
Capell. In Warton the omission includes also the three
following stanzas.
[1492] Night’s black chare. N. Nightys chair. Capell.
[1493] Leafe. Cooper.
[1494] Beams. Warton.
[1495] Bright starres. N. Nightys stars. Capell.
[1496] Omitted by Warton.
[1497] This. 1563. Capell.
[1498] Furth from her iyen. 1563. Capell, Warton.
[1499] ‘And,’ restored from ed. 1563. So Capell.
[1500] Swollen her eyes. Capell.
[1501] Aparte 1563.
[1502] Betime. 1563. Capell, Warton.
[1503] The infernall. 1563, 71. Capell.
[1504] Lethe’s. Capell, Warton.
[1505] Thing. Capell.
[1506] The next eight stanzas omitted by Warton.
[1507] Calstell. 1571, 87.
[1508] Gathered spirites. 1563.
[1509] T’auale. N.
[1510] Spirits. 1563, 71.
[1511] ‘Stike’ is altered to ‘syke’ in the list of faults escaped
1563, a correction now first adopted.
[1512] Iyen. 1563. Eyen. Capell.
[1513] Shewe. 1563.
[1514] Fortune. 1563, 71. Capell.
[1515] Silly. 1563.
[1516] Capell suggests reading ‘be bold.’
[1517] World’s certainty. 1571, 75, 78.
[1518] Paced. 1563.
[1519] Imbraced. 1563.
[1520] Traced. 1563.
[1521] Trauayle end. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1522] Arose. 1563.
[1523] And. 1571, 87. N.
[1524] A dreadfull lothly. N.
[1525] The ayer. 1563. I’the air. Capell.
[1526] Pestilent. 1563. Pestlent. 1571, 75, 78, 87. Noysome.
N. Noysom vapours. Warton.
[1527] Jer. 1578.
[1528] Tost. Capell.
[1529] The, omitted. 1571, 75, 78, 87. N.
[1530] Shoulders. 1563.
[1531] Full dayntlye would he fare. 1563. Capell.
[1532] But. Capell. Warton.
[1533] The, omitted. N.
[1534] That chance. Warton. Capell.
[1535] Esteemed. Warton. Capell.
[1536] Broken. 1563. Capell. Warton.
[1537] But, an’ the. Warton. Capell.
[1538] His, omitted. N. Her. Capell.
[1539] Neuer. 1563, 71.
[1540] Sometimes. Warton.
[1541] Bread. Warton.
[1542] O. Capell. Warton.
[1543] Ne. 1571, 75, 78.
[1544] Shrinkt. N.
[1545] Glittering. 1571.
[1546] Look’d. Capell. Warton.
[1547] Kings. 1563.
[1548] His kings, his princes, peers. Capell. Warton.
[1549] Stanzas 59, 60, and 61, omitted by Capell and Warton.
[1550] Trebery, corrected to Treby, in faults escaped, ed.
1563. The error uniformly continued in every subsequent
edition.
[1551] Thebes too I saw. Capell. Warton.
[1552] God. 1571, 87. N.
[1553] ‘Perfore,’ ed. 1563. The others have ‘perforce.’ A
similar line in the legend of Lord Hastings, see stanza 27, l. 2,
p. 284.
[1554] O Troy, Troy, Troy; amended by Capell and repeated by
Warton.
[1555] ‘Vpspring,’ corrected by ed. 1563. So Capell and
Warton. All the others read vprising.
[1556] Greek. Capell.
[1557] Liuelike. 1563.
[1558] My. 1571, 75, 78.
[1559] Boote. 1571, 75, 78.
[1560] The vnwonted. 1563, 71. Capell.
[1561] The ayer. 1563, 71. Capell.
[1562] Whils. 1571, 75, 78. Whiles. Capell.
[1563] Passed by. 1563, 71.
[1564] Instead of the 74th stanza the four following are
substituted by Niccols, who has so closely imitated his author
that Warton has given the first two stanzas as genuine.

Thence did we passe the three-fold emperie,

To th’ vtmost bounds, where Radamanthus raignes,
Where proud folke waile there woefull miserie,
Where dreadfull din of thousand dragging chaines,
And balefull shriekes of ghosts in deadly paines
Tortur’d eternally are heard most brim
Through silent shades of night so darke and dim.

From hence vpon our way we forward passe,

And through the groues and vncoth paths we goe,
Which leade vnto the Cyclops walles of brasse:
And where that maine-broad flood for aye doth floe,
Which parts the gladsome fields from place of woe,
Whence none shall euer passe t’Elizium plaine,
Or from Elizium euer turne againe.

With Sorrow for my guide, as there I stood,

A troope of men the most in armes bedight,
In tumult clustred ’bout both sides the flood;
 ’Mongst whom, who were ordaind t’eternall night,
Or who to blissefull peace and sweet delight
I wot not well, it seem’d that they were all
Such as by death’s vntimely stroke did fall.

Some headlesse were, some body, face and hands,

With shamefull wounds despoil’d in euery part.
Some strangled, some that dide in captiue bands,
Some smothred, drown’d, some stricken through the
hart
With fatall steele, all drown’d in deadly smart:
Of hastned death, with shrikes, sobs, sighs and
teares,
Did tell the woes of their forepassed yeares.

[1565] Pewed. 1571, 75, 78.

[1566] O. Capell.
[1567] Warton has given this stanza, in a note, as from the
edition of 1559, but the Induction was first printed 1563.
[1568] Omitted by Warton.
[1569] The last four lines not in Warton.
[1570] Forlorne. Warton.
[1571] Layne. Warton.
[1572] In. 1563.
[1573] Warily. N.
[1574] Swaye. 1563.
[1575] And gayn. 1563.
[1576] The vnsuerty. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1577] Season. 1578.
[1578] That he him nere in. N.
[1579] Than. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1580] Liued. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1581] Wistand. N.
[1582] Matchlesse. N.
[1583] ‘O,’ added. 1587. N.
[1584] Crieth. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1585] Murderers. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1586] Traytours. 1571, 75, 78. N.
[1587] Auenge. N.
[1588] Suffereth. 1578. N.
[1589] The examples. 1563.
[1590] Murdered. 1578.
[1591] On. 1563.
[1592] Longer. N.
[1593] Folly. 1587. N.
[1594] Pressed. 1563.
[1595] Murders. N.
[1596] Gleluis. 1578.
[1597] Deepely graue. 1578.
[1598] Startlesse. 1571, 75, 78.
[1599] Grieved. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1600] Furth brought. 1563.
[1601] ‘Strayned’ is the reading of 1563. All the other editions
have stayned.
[1602] By. 1563.
[1603] T’encrease. N.
[1604] Searcheth. 1563, 71 75, 78.
[1605] Foreyrked. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1606] Loth’d. N.
[1607] Agriefde. 1575, 78. Agrieud. N.
[1608] Sauag’d. N.
[1609] Never. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1610] So foule. N.
[1611] Nay. N.
[1612] Wealaway. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1613] Nay. N.
[1614] Could tourne. 1563.
[1615] Nay. N.
[1616] Hard to. 1563.
[1617] Cursed case. 1763.
[1618] Sillye. 1563. N.
[1619] That. 1563.
[1620] Basely. N.
[1621] Count’st. N.
[1622] Inconstancye. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1623] The vnstable. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1624] Recur’d. N.
[1625] Ben. N.
[1626] Livedst. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1627] They, misprint. 1587.
[1628] Might. N.
[1629] Heauens. N.
[1630] Mate. 1575, 78. N.
[1631] Whych. 1563.
[1632] Loved. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1633] And every. 1563.
[1634] Sown’d. N.
[1635] Lyeth. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1636] Rufull. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1637] Was his. 1578.
[1638] Spirites. 1563.
[1639] Thy. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1640] Gevest. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1641] Trone despyse. 1563.
[1642] That. 1563.
[1643] The vnhappy. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1644] ‘Place,’ reading of 1563. Day. 1571, 75, 78, 87. N.
[1645] Vouchsafe. N.
[1646] Shalt thou not. 1563.
[1647] The eternall. 1563, 71 75, 78.
[1648] May. 1563.
[1649] And. 1563.
[1650] Halfe, wanting. 1563.
[1651] Thy. 1563.
[1652] ‘Hugie,’ the reading of 1563. Huge. 71, 75, 78, 87.
Dolefull. N.
[1653] Thy daughter strucken with the leprosie. N.
[1654] Graule. 1571, 75, 78. Groule. N.
[1655] Lyved. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1656] Whan. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1657] Bidden. N.
[1658] Mishap. 1578.
[1659] By. 1563, 71, 75.
[1660] Initials added 1571. T. Saxuill. N.
[1661] Q. 1563.
[1662] Sayd one. 1578.
[1663] Q. 1563.
[1664] Q. 1563. Quod. 1575.
[1665] My thynke. 1563, 71, 75.
[1666] Q. 1563.
[1667] Sayd one. 1578.
[1668] Other hand. 1563.
[1669] I say, beware. N.
[1670] Mule’s. 1587.
[1671] Though Juuenal so be, that. 1563.
[1672] That doth make. N.
[1673] Maketh. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1674] Ere. N.
[1675] And therefore lothe we taunters. 1563.
[1676] Whose minde thereby to. 1563.
[1677] Amend. 1563.
[1678] To guyde. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1679] Moe. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1680] The affections of the wycked sorte. 1563.
[1681]

Theyr sinnes, all hate to heare them touched,

Howe covertly so ever they be couched. 1563.

[1682] Th’intent. N.
[1683] Is godly. 1563.
[1684] From. N.
[1685] Doubtfull. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1686] Well may. 1578.
[1687] Which rymed that whych made full many mourne.
1563.
[1688] The kynge himselfe of. 1563.
[1689] His faultors faultes. 1563.
[1690] Was. 1571, 75, 78.
[1691] The chyefe was Catesby whom. 1563.
[1692] Whom I did call. N.
[1693] Tyll he vsurped the crowne, he. 1563.
[1694] So many thousandes as they have destroyed. 1563.
[1695] Laweles dealynges al men dyd. 1563.
[1696] Pessima. 1571, 75, 78.
[1697] Quis vetat? None, save clymers stil in ferum, 1563.
[1698] Satyr. 1563.
[1699] Who rudely named were. 1563.
[1700] Me wyth most haynous traytrous cryme. 1563.
[1701] And strangled fyrst in. 1563. And strangled then in. N.
[1702] Ore. N.
[1703] And so sore. 1578.
[1704]

This wicked iudgement vexed me so sore

That I exclamed agaynst. 1563.

[1705] The ravenyng dog. 1563, 71, 75, 78.

[1706] The rat lord Ratclyve. 1563.
[1707] Touch thinges which they wish. 1563.
[1708] No flatterer, no bolsterer of vyce. 1563.
[1709] From. N.
[1710] Vnto. 1563.
[1711] An, misprint. 1587.
[1712] The heauens hye. 1563.
[1713]

He must (as she had) have one onlye iye,

Regarde of truth, that nought maye leade awrye. 1563.

[1714] And that no power or fansie do him force. 1563.

[1715] Must also. 1563.
[1716] Bruse. N.
[1717] To heauen thereto to feede and rest. 1563.
[1718] Of skyll and hope. 1563.
[1719] That (than) al the ioyes which worldly wyts desyre.
1563.
[1720] He must be also nymble. 1563.
[1721] The. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1722] Thinges notable he. 1563. Impart he. 1571, 75, 78.
[1723] These propertyes yf I had well consydered. 1563.
[1724] From the stormy blast. 1563.
[1725] Bin cast. N.
[1726] But trusting vaynely to the tyrauntes. 1563. Trust vnto a
tyrant’s. 1571, 75, 78.
[1727] Had bene allowed plea at any barre. 1563.
[1728] Ryght. 1563.
[1729] Tyrants t’is. N.
[1730] That with the lewde save this no order was. 1563.
[1731] Where this is. 1563.
[1732] Or. 1563.
[1733] Their libertyes. 1563.
[1734] This auncient freedome ought. 1563.
[1735] Of slaunderers iust lawes. 1563.
[1736] Seemed euel sayd. 1563.
[1737] Foolyshe. 1563.
[1738] To abase. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1739] Of traytrous actes abhord of God. 1563.
[1740] They arraynde and staynde me with that shameful
crime. 1563.
[1741] Vse. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1742] Rebuke thou vice, so. 1563.
[1743] His. 1563.
[1744] His sinfull prankes. 1563.
[1745] Warne poetes therfore not to. 1563.
[1746] Kepe them in the streames. 1563.
[1747] Vnto. 1571, 75, 78.
[1748] Freedome save them from extreames. 1563.
[1749] This legend without signature. Attributed to Baldwin.
[1750] Q. 1563.
[1751] Destructions. 1563, 71, 75, 78.
[1752] Eternal. 1563.
[1753] Q. 1563.
[1754] Q. 1563.
[1755] Q. 1563.
[1756] Date added. 1571.
[1757] Murdred. 1563, 75.
[1758] I conspyred. 1563.
[1759] Spyrytes. 1563.
[1760] To cruel cursed. 1563.
[1761] Lived. 1563, 71, 75.
[1762] Attempt. 1578.
[1763] Proffer ready for my. 1563.
[1764] Q. 1563.
[1765] Rendered. 1563, 71, 75.
[1766] The. 1563.
[1767] Rufull. 1563.
[1768] Torne. 1563.
[1769] Bloudy. 1563.
[1770] His life also from him I raught. 1563.
[1771] Were. 1563.
[1772] Silly. 1563.
[1773] Do. 1563, 71, 75.
[1774] Ful euel. 1563, 71, 75.
[1775] Happy happe. 1563.
[1776] And. 1563.
[1777] Therle. 1563, 71, 75.
[1778] Added ed. 1571 for Francis Segar. This legend omitted
by Niccols.
[1779] Q. 1563.
[1780] The. 1563.
[1781] Q. 1563.
[1782] Yll. 1563.
[1783] In the editions of 1571, 75, 78, the legends of Michael
Joseph and Jane Shore were transposed, the latter being
made to conclude the volume. The induction to the first in
1563 is in few words, nearly the same as the above
conclusion. It follows: “When they had sayde their myndes
herein allowyng it very well, they willed me also to reade the
blacke Smyth. “Wyth a good wyll,” quod I, “but fyrst you must
ymagine that you see hym standynge on a ladder,
ouershryned wyth the Tyborne, a meete trone for all suche
rebelles and trayters: and there corageouslye sayenge as
folowethe.”
[1784] Date added. 1571.
[1785] Then is the Bayard blind. N.
[1786] Then do the bold in mind. N.
[1787] Is. 1563, 71. N.
[1788] Swimming carelesse of. N.
[1789] Starest and lookest. 1563, 71.
[1790] Sawest. 1563, 71.
[1791] Boldie. N.
[1792] Nature planted so in. N.
[1793] The, wanting. 1563. N.
[1794] Awdley, one of birth. N.
[1795] My. 1563.
[1796] Beginth. 1563. Beginneth. 1571.
[1797] Do. 1563, 71.
[1798] Vertues. N.
[1799] Be. 1563, 71.
[1800] Weale. N.
[1801] Inforst. 1563, 71.
[1802] Proue it vntrue. N.
[1803] Rebell heretofore or since. N.
[1804] Purpose. N.
[1805] He entred is to. N.
[1806] Seeke. N.
[1807] With foolish men so falsehood is. N.
[1808] That faith is sinne. N.
[1809] Soldiers out. N.
[1810] To praise. N.
[1811] Hopes. N.
[1812] They ’ncrease. N.
[1813] Through. N.
[1814] Christen. 1563, 71.
[1815] Assur’d. N.
[1816] God’s fierce wrath. N.
[1817] Hear’st reason. N.
[1818] Think’st. N.
[1819] Lacked. 1563, 71.
[1820] Hole. 1563, 71.
[1821] Others. 1563.
[1822] Flamoke both agreed together. N.
[1823] Breake bondage now. N.
[1824] To purchase fame. N.
[1825] Counted was a lout. N.
[1826] Man his brother did entice. N.
[1827] Each one so wedded was vnto. N.
[1828] With sword. N.
[1829] Men rebell there. N.
[1830] Sort. N.
[1831] They beare the port. N.
[1832] Crie vnto the rest. N.
[1833] For that he there did sit in high commission. N.
[1834] Wels and were. N.
[1835] He had. N.
[1836] ’Twill. N.
[1837] From vs by night away together straid. N.
[1838] City and with. N.
[1839] Did intend the. N.
[1840] Fully bent to N.
[1841] Were farthest from our habitation. N.
[1842] Were slaughtered all as. N.
[1843] Arm’d. N.
[1844] Led as. N.
[1845] After doome. N.
[1846] An, wanting. 1563.
[1847] Al torne, 1563.
[1848] Reuers’d. N.
[1849] He (the king) caused the Lord Audeleigh to be drawen
from Newgate to the Towre hie in a cote of his awne armes
peinted vpon paper, reuersed and al to torne, and there to be
behedded the xxviii day of Juyn. And Thomas Flamock and
Myghell Joseph he commaunded after the fassyon of treytours
to be drawen, hanged and quartred. Hall.
[1850] With Flamoke I and. N.
[1851] Lookt. N.
[1852] I should haue fame. N.
[1853] This Mighell Joseph, surnamed the black smyth, one of
the capiteins of this donge hill and draffe sacked ruffians, was
of such stowte stomack and haute courage, that at the same
time that he was drawen on the herdle toward his death, he
sayd, as men do reporte: “That for this myscheuous and
facinorous acte, he should haue a name perpetual and a fame
permanent and immortal.” So (you may perceaue) that desire
and ambicious cupidite of vaine glorie and fame, enflameth,
and encourageth aswel poore and meane persones, as the
heartes of great lords and puyssaunt princes to trauayle and
aspire to the same. Hall.
[1854] Seruant happier. N.
[1855] Mightie men. N.
[1856] The loftie towre. N.
[1857] Toile. N.
[1858] Griefe. N.
[1859] Baldwin, therefore do. N.
[1860] For president to. N.
[1861] The talent well. N.
[1862] One’s. N.
[1863]

Thrice happie are those men, yea, blest is hee,

Who can contented serue in his degree. N.

[1864] Signature added. 1571.

[1865] Q. 1563.
[1866] Q. 1563.
[1867] Good pleasure. 1563.
[1868] Q. 1563.
[1869] “But because the night is cum, I will trouble you no
longer, I haue certayne rabets here but they are not wurth the
readinge. I will cause these which you haue allowed, to be
printed as soon as I may conueniently.” This sayd we take
leue eche of other, and so departed. 1563.
This sentence concludes the edition of 1563. The above
continuance of the induction, added by Higgins in 1587, to
introduce his own legend of sir Nicholas Burdet, then first
printed, and who adopted Holinshed instead of Hall for his
authority. See Chronicles temp. Hen. VIth. passim.
[1870] If erst in king’s affaires. N.
[1871] Warr’d. N.
[1872] Prince’s warre. N.
[1873] See Holinshed’s Chronicles, Vol. III. p. 345, ed. 1808.
[1874] Nerethelesse. N.
[1875] Proue. N.
[1876] Wondrous. N.
[1877] Quoth. N.
[1878] Dispatcht. N.
[1879] Quoth. N.
[1880] Pierce. N.
[1881] This legend first published in ed. 1587.
[1882] M. H. i. e. Maister Higins.
[1883] This and the following legend are only inserted in the
edition of 1587. There are copies of both in the Harleian MS.
2252, and not improbable that which furnished Higgins with
his copy. The notes will shew the alterations.
[1884] Crye. MS.
[1885] Began. MS.
[1886] Sore aferde. MS.
[1887] Sawe hee had a berd. MS.
[1888] My, wanting. MS.
[1889] Lackyd. MS.
[1890] Order my realme I cowde with a whyte wand. MS.
[1891] Life, wanting. MS.
[1892] A, wanting. MS.
[1893] Chaungeth aye me. MS.
[1894] My. MS.

[1895] To folow yor apetyte I dyde as ye me badde. MS.

[1896] But showyll and spade: varied in the margin to: hence
for to fade. MS.
[1897] Yn my men torne. MS.
[1898] Payn eternall for my inequyte. MS.
[1899] And my realme and ek to owr shame. MS.
[1900] He wynneth. MS.
[1901] Was only. MS.