LONER (Book Four) The Nomad Series
by Janine Infante Bosco
Publication Date: February 25, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense
Are you ready to ride with Linc and Kelly?
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Excerpt LONER © Copyright 2018 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.
When you wake up from a coma and are told there is a fifty-fifty shot of you walking again, it’s hard to think about anything else. Nothing mattered after that. Not the reasons I joined the Satan’s Knights MC or why I took up permanent residency in Brooklyn. I didn’t give a fuck about the men who I proudly called my brothers or the legacy of Cain. All that consumed me was misery and suicidal thoughts.
At twenty-six years old, I had already lived longer than I should have.
Longer than I deserved.
I had survived both parents, my first love and the heartbreak of losing Pinky. I hustled and conned more people than I can count and pulled the trigger on more than a dozen lives and still, that wasn’t enough sins for the devil to call me home.
Well, I wasn’t about to live the rest of my life in a chair. Riding was all I had left in this world and now that was gone too. Everyone has a breaking point and having to ask one of my brothers to hold my dick whenever I took a piss was mine.
I certainly wasn’t thinking about my finances or lack of health insurance. When I learned the hospital was looking to throw my ass on the street—crippled and all—it was the final nail in the coffin and another reason to end it the nightmare.
However, committing suicide was a hard feat for me thanks to Jack Parrish. The former right hand of my father had a rotation of brothers guarding over me. Between the sea of leather and the constant flow of doctors and nurses, I was never alone long enough to go through with my plan.
It became impossible once Wolf got wind of the hospital’s intentions to throw me into some state-funded rehab. The son of a bitch came riding in on his white horse to save the day, taking a mortgage on a house he owned free and clear. Not only did he pay my outstanding medical bills but, he also cut them a check for my last surgery where they removed the rods from my legs.
If this was a movie, now would be the part where I tell you I miraculously walked after that and all is well. However, this is no mainline cinema production and after the rods were out of my legs all that changed was the fact one leg had healed better than the other. Which meant I could balance twenty pounds of weight on my good leg. I’m six foot three and a hundred and ninety pounds—you do the math.
I regained mild sensation in my limbs but, that don’t matter much either. They still feel like dead weight every time the physical therapist tries to get me moving.
With no surgical procedure left to try, I’m being discharged from the hospital and the fate of my legs relies on an hourly paid therapist who doesn’t really give two flying fucks if I walk again. The doctors here have also referred me to a shrink—apparently, it’s alarming when a crippled bastard doesn’t clap his hands in elation after finding out he’s being discharged. I suppose to them fresh air is a mediocre consolation prize.
After being locked inside a hospital for months, one might look forward to being thrown into the world that chewed him up and spat him out. He might even find comfort at the thought of going home but, I didn’t have a home. All I had was a room in the Satan’s Knights clubhouse and like my legs, the explosion left my home, my bed and all my belongings in ruins.
Upon my arrival to the concrete jungle, I along, with the three nomads Wolf managed to turn, all took a room in the clubhouse. After the explosion, I heard Styker, Cobra, and Deuce had relocated to a motel. However, as a man who has been stripped of his independence, that wasn’t an option for me. The motel wasn’t wheelchair accessible and even if it was, I needed someone to help me wipe my ass. Wolf, of course, thought that someone should be him and while I’ve been wiggling my toes like a trained chimp at the circus, he had his other monkey’s—Stryker, Cobra, and Deuce— turn his house into a crippled man’s oasis.
Now, it’s discharge day. The papers have been signed and instead of rolling out of here on my Harley, there is shiny new wheelchair that offensively awaits me and a bag of clothes sitting on the foot of my bed that I refuse to have the nurse help me put on.
If I don’t comply maybe they’ll throw me on the street like yesterdays trash and be done with me.
A knock sounds on the door, dragging me away from my thoughts. I’m about to tell the nurse to go fuck off somewhere when I hear Wolf’s deep voice echo off the sterile walls.
“Why the fuck are you still wearing that dress?” he growls, curling his lip as he eyes my hospital gown with disdain. “Riggs is downstairs waiting with the cage.”
He grabs the bag of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed and dumps them onto my lap.
“The fucking clown charges by the hour,” he adds, clapping his hands together.
And you thought I was being a smart ass when I said we’re all his monkey’s.
A sane man would think better than to argue with Wolf. After all, he didn’t get his name because he had the disposition of a lamb. Like a master predator, he lives amongst the wild and silently stalks in the shadows. He destroys anything that stands in his way and defends what he holds dear. Loyal to a fault, he is the heart of the Satan’s Knights.
He’s also a glutton for punishment.
But, so am I.
A fact we both surrender as we continue to stare at one another. This isn’t his first attempt at saving me when I don’t want to be saved.
“I’m not going,” I tell him definitely as I swipe my hand across my lap and send the bag flying off it.
“The fuck you talking about?” he grinds out, combing his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. The times have changed. Murder and mayhem have hardened Wolf and as a result, his patience has thinned.
“I should’ve died in that explosion,” I tell him. Balling my fist, I lift it and pound it against the center of my chest as I glare at him. “I wanted to die,” I reveal. “But, no one asked me what I wanted. No one gave me a fucking choice.”
Stryker pulled me from the debris.
Jack Parrish and his vice president, Blackie, gave consent every time they sliced me open.
And if it was up to Wolf, he’d keep tugging on those puppet strings.
“I’m done letting you motherfuckers play God. From here on out, I decide what happens to me.”
“Let’s get something straight, kid,” Wolf