Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Christ, man, calm the fuck down.” The guards struggled to keep a hold of him as he fought like hell.
A sharp jab to his kidney had him doubling forward as pain spread from his back into his gut. The guards used his momentary slackening to drag him from the room.
Once in the quiet hall, the pissed-off guards started berating him for being as stupid as he was ugly. Travis let himself go limp. Why bother making their job easier by trotting along like the dutiful prisoner he’d been so far?
Sentencing would be held in a week or so. Then his life would be over. No way the murderer of a police officer’s kid would get anything other than life without parole.
It didn’t matter how loud he’d proclaimed his innocence or the fact it was true.
He’d committed almost every crime in the book at some point in his life, but even he had a moral code. There were three things he didn’t stand for. Three lines he’d never cross.
Rape, beating on his ol’ lady, and killing of the innocent.
He’d spent most of his childhood listening to his father violate and pound on his mother. Now, as an adult who most of the world feared, he had no tolerance for that shit and no problem booting someone from his club for mistreating their ol’ ladies.
And as for killing the innocent? Well, it didn’t get much more innocent than a twelve-year-old girl with her entire life ahead of her.
Like that poor murdered child, he had no future. But he did have one thing she didn’t, and that was the hope of revenge. Travis’s reach was vast. Even from prison, he could wreak havoc on the men who’d set him up to take the fall for this vicious crime.
And he’d do just that.
Not only for himself, but for Joy Lane and her twin sister Holly.
CHAPTER ONE
PRESENT DAY
Curly lingered at the bar, nursing a beer as the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club partied around him. The pint had warmed a while ago and no longer held any appeal, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. Having something to hold in his hands helped give him something to focus on besides his spiraling thoughts.
“Hey.” Someone bumped his shoulder, and he turned to find a cute young blonde smiling at him with genuine affection. “What are you doing over here all by yourself?”
Holly Lane, the twin sister of the girl he’d been convicted of murdering, scooted onto the barstool next to him. She was the reason for his second chance at life. As a child, she’d never believed him guilty of murdering her twin and best friend but had been powerless to do anything about it. As an adult, she’d been integral in exposing her father’s corruption and facilitating Curly’s recent release from jail. He owed her his life. There were no lengths he wouldn’t go to to ensure that happy expression remained on her face for the rest of her life.
“Hey, Little Miss,” he said, smiling back at her. In the eight months since his release, Holly had become one of the most valuable people in his life.
The daughter he’d never had.
And never would have.
Bitter at the world and forty-six years old, he sure as fuck wouldn’t be having kids of his own.
“Where’s your ol’ man?” He sipped the tepid beer then grimaced as the flat warmth went down.
Holly raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t possibly be implying that I shouldn’t be wandering around the clubhouse without LJ, could you?”
Sweet as the baked goods she was famous for, Holly wasn’t a pushover. Curly raised his hands as he spun her way. “Never. Just used to the big guy following you around. He’s worse than your dog.”
The lovesick smile she beamed warmed him. Despite losing her twin at an early age then finding out her father was a dirty cop who used his daughter’s death for personal gain, she was remarkably well adjusted. Much of that was owed to her ol’ man and the family she’d found in the MC. “I’m sure he’ll be along soon. I just wanted to check on you over here brooding all by yourself.”
More often than not, over the six or so months he’d been staying with her and LJ, she called him brooding or antisocial for hovering on the outskirts of the group. He couldn’t help it. One of the most challenging aspects of re-entering the world had been socializing. After thirteen years of speaking only with corrections officers and angry convicts, he’d lost the skills to shoot the shit with anyone and everyone. Being the center of attention sucked, and loud parties made him want to cower in a corner and scan for attacks. Sitting at the bar with his back to the entire room took a massive amount of effort was a huge step forward. But he kept all that to himself. No one needed to hear him cry about the shitty hand life dealt him. Especially not Holly, who already lived on a mountain of misguided guilt. “I’m not brooding, honey, just waiting to chat with Copper about something.”