Court of Mayhem

There was a sh*tstorm brewing. Whispers. Rumbles. A rot—fueled by greed and protected by corruption—that’d seeped like sewage, eating away at everything it touched. The only people I trusted were my brother by blood, my brothers by patch, and the crazy Irish-Scottish bastard I did jobs for. That was why, when the hot-as-hell blonde started trailing my brothers and me, I had to act.

I wasn't looking for a lover. I wasn't even looking for a friend. After my life imploded around me, I only wanted one thing: a fresh start for me and the baby I carried. That was before Ward 'Hollywood' Garrison stormed down a walkway and into my life. Cooking for me. Spending time with me. Giving me his dimpled grin and making me smile for the first time in far too long. Ward may have been charming, but he was no hero. A member of the Court of Mayhem motorcycle club, he had figurative blood on his hands—and very real blood on his shirt. He had secrets. Then again, so did I.