The Biker's Mistake: Return Of The Heiress

ica

spent four whole years building the Schwarz Motorcycle Club, pouring my family trust fund into it bit by bit. I bought them the best

-state run-helping a blonde Club Princess and his f

lused fingers, hitting the grease-st

d from my lungs, leaving a sharp, burning ache in my chest as I st

year-ol

dropped their eyes to the ground, no one daring to meet my gaze. The realization hit me like

cross his broad shoulders. His voice was flat and unapo

pt another woman hidden across t

y calm, though my fingernails dug so hard

m today on, she is the official Old Lady of th

chest against Daryl's arm. She looke

ncia sneered, her voice carrying across the silent yard. "Garage girls should know

ored her and loo

ight into Daryl's cowardly, arrogant eyes

you keep your head down and tune the bikes in the back, I

the oil drum beside his boots. The

dreams,

inger at me. "How dare you speak to the

rd my million-dollar cus

vise. "Don't push your luck, Jerrica! Without my patch b

, my amber eyes turning c

pping instinctively toward the push dag

thing I had to a sister-marched out from behind the heavy machinery, hauling a th

th. He raised a hand

," Daryl spat, leading Valen

lder. "Have her bay cleaned out by tonight, Daryl

uch the worn blue zircon hairclip pinned in my hair. You

op of blood out of th