Letting Her Lead (Ghost Riders MC Book 3) Read online

  Letting Her Lead

  Alexa Riley

  Contents

  Copyright

  Letting Her Lead

  Dedication

  1. Izzy

  2. Lucias

  3. Izzy

  4. Lucias

  5. Izzy

  6. Lucias

  7. Izzy

  8. Lucias

  9. Izzy

  10. Lucias

  11. Izzy

  12. Lucias

  13. Izzy

  14. Lucias

  15. Izzy

  16. Lucias

  Epilogue

  Beauty and the Biker

  Chapter 1

  Also by Alexa Riley

  Stalk the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Photograph by Sara Eirew

  Lucias Houston is president of the Ghost Riders MC. He carries the club on this shoulders with nothing but his brothers on his mind. Until he lays eyes on her.

  Elizabeth “Izzy” Force is a veterinarian who spends her time either working, or gaming online. Her life is simple and she likes it just fine…until a baby bulldog pulls in the hottest-looking beast of a man she’s ever seen.

  They come from two very different worlds, but they’re about to collide. Can Lucias convince Izzy he’s worth the risk?

  Warning: This is an MC book like no other. There’s no cheating, no sweet butts, and it has all the sweet, cheesy goodness Alexa Riley stirs up. Saddle up and ride!

  This one goes out to all the people who waited each week (not so patiently) for every chapter. Thank you for sticking with us… we hope it was worth it!

  1

  Izzy

  Sitting on the end of the bed in the dark, I rub my eyes, trying to relieve a little bit of the tension. Even after my shower, I still feel the day coating me. At least I have the next few days off from the clinic. Maybe I can finally catch up on some sleep.

  Sadly, I was actually relieved when I got the call from the police department to tell me my brother was in jail. He won’t be out until he sees the judge, and there’s nothing I can do for him until that point. That takes things out of my hands, and I don’t have to decide if I’m willing to fork over the money to bail him out. Again. Who am I kidding? I know I would.

  “I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whisper.

  No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to keep my brother out of trouble. He has a way of falling into it, and I know for a fact he’s mixed up with a motorcycle gang now. It’s something I know nothing about. I spend my days working and my nights with my nose stuck in a book. Or raiding with my guild. My brother and I couldn’t be more different. How we both shared a womb at one time, I have no idea.

  We’re twins, but while I went to college, made perfect grades, and wanted nothing to do with sex, parties, and drugs, that’s all Dusty seems to do. I don’t even know what he does for a living, but he always appears to have a ton of cash just as quickly as he seems to be broke. My guess would be drugs. He put our grandma, who raised us, through hell until she took her last breath.

  Pulling the covers back on the bed, I start to crawl under when I hear a noise coming from the front of the house. I reach for my phone on the night stand and come up empty. Shit. I left it in the living room along with my laptop. Double shit.

  I wait another second, just to be sure I’m not freaking out, but then I hear another sound.

  I open the bedside drawer and pull out my grandfather’s revolver. I’ve been keeping it in the drawer since my brother moved back home. It’s not that I am scared of him. No, I am scared of who he hangs around with. I came home early one night to find him and three other men in the living room, and after that, I’m not taking any chances.

  The feelings they gave me made my blood run cold. Dusty pulled me aside and scolded me for coming home early and interrupting him in whatever it was he was doing. I had to call before I came home to my own house? This house is equally ours. It was left to both of us by our grandma, but he hadn’t lived here for years. Until recently. As much as it pisses me off that he expects me to call if I am coming home early, I did after that because I don’t have the urge to run into his friends ever again.

  I don’t know crap about motorcycle gangs, but what I do know, I want no part of. I’ll stick to my Warcraft guilds and gamebattle friends. I’ve never met any of them personally, but I highly doubt they look like my brother’s friends.

  Slowly opening my bedroom door, I listen for another sound. This time, there’s nothing. Maybe it was the wind, I think to myself, waiting for a few minutes, still not hearing anything. The alarm would have gone off, I keep telling myself.

  I creep down the hall and almost make it almost to the living room when a sound draws my eyes to the dining room. Without thinking, I scream and pull the trigger. The bang goes off louder than I thought possible, the recoil making my arm kick back, and I drop the gun.

  “Fucking shit, shit, shit!” I hear a woman’s voice exclaim before I’m crushed to the ground by a body so big it feels like a giant concrete boulder landed on me and knocked the air out of my lungs.

  The room floods with light, and I stare up at the scariest face I’ve ever seen. Scars run down his face in angry lines. His hard blue eyes look deadly. I push against him, and he actually yields to my efforts, but he takes me with him as he stands, grabbing me by my arm in a firm, unbreakable hold.

  “Find him,” Scarred Guy barks, his voice just as scary as his face. Some tall, skinny guy takes off through my house, and I study the man still holding my arm. He’s as big as a concrete boulder. “She’s losing a good amount of blood.” I look over and see a man on his knees next to a dark-haired woman who is holding her leg.

  “No fucking shit, Sherlock,” the woman on the ground snaps. “I’ve been shot. Vincent is going to kill me. I can hear his mouth already. I’ve been playing with guns my whole life. My whole fucking life. Never been shot. I do this one small task, and this thing shoots me.”

  Her eyes snap over to me, and she glares at me so hard she could give Scarred Guy a run for his money. I just stand there. I can’t seem to form a sentence as I watch what’s playing out in front of me. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing at this point.

  “Nothing, man. No one is here.” The skinny guy searching the house comes back to join us, a little out of breath. “Is she Pinch’s bitch?” he asks, nodding at me.

  I know Pinch is my brother. I’ve heard a few other people call him that. I look around the room to see everyone is wearing leather jackets. The one leaning over the dark-haired woman makes the writing on the back easy to read. Ghost Riders.

  “I knew I should have shot that little shit with more than a rubber bullet,” the woman says, trying to pull herself to her feet. But as she does, her legs give out on her, and she lands back down on her ass.

  “Go
ddamn it, Casper! Sit the fuck still.”

  “I’m not going to a hospital.” She pushes the man, and I see the bloodstain spread on her jeans.

  “Stop that! You’re making it worse. You need medical attention. Stitches at the least. That much is clear,” I exclaim, unable to help myself.

  “You a doctor or some shit?” the scarred man gripping my arm asks, looking down at me.

  “No. Veterinarian.”

  “Good enough. Get Cas in the truck and clean that blood off the floor.”

  The man next to Cas picks her up and heads out the front door while she mumbles about some Vincent guy. Why hasn’t the alarm gone off? The skinny guy picks up the gun I dropped and cleans up the blood on the floor with his shirt.

  “You got a medical kit?”

  I nod my head.

  “Good. Get it. If you try something…” He doesn’t have to say what will happen if I try something. I get the message loud and clear. I won’t be trying anything.

  He finally lets me go, and I run to the front door and pick up the medical bag I keep for emergency calls.

  “Make sure everything is cleaned up. I don’t know if anyone heard that shot,” Scarred Guy barks.

  “Got it, Savage. See you at the compound.”

  Savage grabs me by the arm once again and pulls me outside. As the cold air hits my legs, I realize I have nothing on but a shirt that barely hits mid-thigh, underwear, and socks.

  I start to protest, but he pushes me into a truck. Cas is lying on the back seat, and the man who carried her out sits behind the wheel. Savage, whose every inch embodies his name, slams the door and informs me of my fate.

  “She dies, you die.”

  2

  Lucias

  “Come on, Ham. Time for bed.”

  I haven’t even gotten out of my chair in my office yet because I know it’s going to take Ham, my English bulldog, about twenty minutes to get up. I named him after the kid in The Sandlot, and it is a fitting name. I thought having a club mascot was a good idea, and I thought having a dog around for security would be even better. Little did I know I got the laziest dog on the planet. He sleeps forty hours a day and doesn’t so much as lift his head if he hears a gunshot. The only time I’ve ever seen him have a skip to his step is when I take him to the vet. Dumb dog actually gets excited when I take him in. Can’t really blame him, though, I get pretty damn excited when I see her, too. She was part of the reason I got Ham.

  The first time I laid eyes on her, I was in the supermarket. I had to go in and pick up some stuff for the club, and there she was in the cereal aisle holding a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

  She looked like a sweet little thing with her dark-brown hair up in a messy bun and her big glasses sliding down the end of her nose. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with an image of Ms. Pac-Man on the front, a pair of leggings with kittens on them, and purple Vans with no socks. I remember the no socks because there was this little gold chain around her ankle, and I remember wanting to put her foot over my shoulder and lick it as I fucked into her. Goddamn, was her body sweet. Tiny little thing with some thick thighs and a big ass. I loved that she was thick. I’ve always liked big girls, and she was making me have crazy fantasies with one quick look.

  When I took a step to approach her, I noticed an older lady walk up to her and call her by name. “Doctor Izzy! I’ve been trying to call the clinic all week. My ragdoll cat, Princess, has had an upset tummy for three days. I have to get her in to see you.”

  “Izzy.” I whispered her name, feeling it roll off my lips. I watched as she walked with the old lady out of the store and out of my life. But I knew where to find her. There is only one vet in town, and I could talk to her there. The only problem was, I didn’t have an animal.

  I had our MC hacker, Knox aka Scribe, help me find a dog, but I didn’t explain why. I think he suspected something, but he never let on. When we went to pick the dog up from the shelter, he was a wrinkly little puppy, but I had to admit he was pretty damn cute. He looked chubby and slept damn near every hour of the day, so the name Ham stuck.

  Taking Ham into the vet the first time was like going on a blind date, only your date didn’t know you were coming. I walked into the vet’s office and did the paperwork for Ham, taking him over and having a seat. When we got called back to the little room, the vet assistant looked him over and told me the vet would be in soon. I waited, looking down at Ham sleeping on the floor the whole time without a care in the world. I’d worn my cut into the vet’s office because I thought it was better to put my cards on the table, but I wonder, looking back, if it was the right idea.

  When Izzy walked in, her face lit up and she beamed, only it wasn’t at me. She was looking at Ham and immediately fell to her knees, scooping him up and cuddling him. I’ve never hated an animal so much in my life. She didn’t so much as give me a second glance.

  She was all business with me, not even looking at me as she put Ham on the table and gave him his shots. She talked out loud, but never so much as made eye contact when I tried to ask questions. Izzy was more than thorough, and she answered what I asked, but she didn’t seem to even notice me with the puppy in the room.

  Right before she left, she put Ham down and finally—finally—turned to look at me. He was bouncing all over the place, I swear, the most active he’s ever been. But I ignored him, looking at Izzy. Her dark-brown hair was still in a messy bun, and her brown eyes looked at me from behind her big glasses. She was wearing a doctor’s coat, but her T-shirt underneath had a picture of Yoda on it.

  “Do you like Star Wars?” It was the dumbest thing out of my mouth, and I wanted to kick myself.

  She looked up at me and blushed and then nodded gently. “Yeah, um, with my last name and all, it’s kind of required.”

  I stared at her in confusion as she told me to have a nice day and left the room. I walked out of the room with Ham following lazily behind me and finally saw her name on the door. Doctor Elizabeth Force.

  I stood there like an idiot. I’m not normally a cocky bastard, but I don’t really have a problem getting a woman’s attention. I guess I just assumed she’d think I was cute and give me the time of day. I saw in that moment that I had some work ahead of me. Because I had to have this woman.

  Seeing her so innocent and sweet, I wanted her to cuddle me like she did Ham. When I walked out of the vet’s office, I looked down at him, and I swear to God, the little bastard was smiling. He knew I’d struck out.

  I’d been back to the vet a dozen times in the past few months. She still wouldn’t ever give me the time of day, only paying attention to Ham every time we went in. When I finally shot it straight and asked her out, she looked at me like I was crazy. She’d said I was the President of a motorcycle club, and she wouldn’t ever go out with one of us.

  When I see Ham finally drag his chunky butt off the couch in my office, I stand up and make my way out, with him slowly following behind.

  All of a sudden, the back doors burst open, and I see Scribe carrying Cas in, her leg bleeding. Adrenaline starts to course through my veins as I think about what to do next. I run towards them as Scribe lays Casper down across one of the pool tables and she lets out a grunt.

  “What the fuck happened?” I shout into the room.

  “This little thing shot her. And she’s going to fix it. Aren’t you?” I hear Savage say behind me.

  Turning around, I get ready to rip apart whoever shot my sergeant-at-arms. But when my eyes lock on Izzy, I stop cold.

  “You!” we both say at the same time.

  3

  Izzy

  I stare at the man who has been single-handedly driving me crazy for months. I’ve never wanted to get away from someone faster, yet at the same time want to kiss them. He makes me nervous and excited all at the same time. I dreaded and loved seeing his name on the appointment schedule at the clinic. He would bring his little bulldog in for any reason. It was cute, and that had started to warm me a bit to him.


  How someone could be this hardened motorcycle club President and at the same time be so attentive with their dog was surprising. That had to mean something, right? But right now I’m not feeling all warm and excited. Nope. Nervous and scared shitless is more like it.

  He’s way out of my league, and I was completely shocked when he’d asked me out weeks ago. It’s almost laughable to think of us together. He’s handsome in a rough kind of way. With his short dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes, he always seems to have a little bit of scruff on his face. Between the scruff on his face and the tattoos, he’s really playing to the whole motorcycle thing. He probably carries a gun and punches people who look at him funny. I can barely make eye contact at times, and the only weapon

  I’ve ever used—besides my grandfather’s revolver—is a staff in Warcraft. Not that that’s anything to shun. It is, after all, a legendary.

  “Let her go,” Lucias says. The giant, scarred-up guy named Savage releases my arm quickly, like I’m suddenly on fire, but Lucias’s tone didn’t give much room for argument. I reach up and rub the spot, not from pain. I’m just happy to be free. Well, not really free.

  “Where the fuck are her clothes?” Lucias’s eyes roam over me, locking on my legs.

  “Wasn’t real worried about her clothes at the moment, Pres,” Savages answers.

  Lucias pulls his eyes away from me and over to Casper, who’s been moved from the pool table to a sofa over on the side. When I got in the truck, I’d cut her jeans away, and I’d done a few quick stitches and bandaged her on the drive over. I had to use what was in the truck because Cas just wanted it stitched fast and over quickly. Something about not wanting her man to see it. She didn’t even jump when I started on her. She just cursed and kept checking her phone. I did the best I could with my kit in a moving vehicle. It should be fine, as long as she doesn’t get an infection.