She recognized the rich, deep baritone of Cade “Raider” Tyson’s voice before she saw him dismount his Harley, his three-piece Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club patch clearly visible on the back of his cut—the sleeveless leather vest worn by all serious bikers. She heard that voice on street corners, in restaurants, and in bars. She heard it in her dreams and when she waited tables in Banks Bar. That voice had coaxed her deepest, darkest fantasies from her lips and made her believe, after two wild nights, maybe dreams really could come true.
Second, Cade’s damn loud voice carried over the after-school chatter and the whistle of the betraying wind; it carried across the street and into the ears of two little girls who only saw their mommy once a week for three hours in the playground while Shelly-Ann had her nails done, and on the rare occasions Dawn had the cash to buy a few extra hours with her daughters.
Third, Maia and Tia spotted Dawn at the same time as Shelly-Ann, who cussed loudly three ways to the Sundays she was forced to bring the girls across the city for their access visit. With a glare for Dawn, she reached across the seat and tried to pull the girls into the car.
But although Shelly-Ann was fast, she wasn’t fast enough. By the time her fingers had breached the doorway, Maia and Tia were already halfway across the busy road, their arms outstretched, their twin voices screaming, “Mommy!”
Dawn’s blood chilled for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she didn’t have any extra money to give Shelly-Ann to keep her unauthorized appearance a secret from Jimmy. Also, her daughters were running through school rush-hour traffic heedless of the danger. And to make matters worse, it was Thursday. Payday for Shelly-Ann.
Usually, she would stuff the wig in her bag and meet Shelly-Ann in the parking lot behind the school to pay her for the extra visits Jimmy didn’t know about—school plays and concerts, trips to the mall, and hikes in the mountains. This time, however, she didn’t have any cash to spare. She’d taken a third job and dropped her college courses to pay a lawyer to help her overturn the court’s decision to award custody of the girls to Jimmy—the result of a setup involving a shady private investigator, a Baggie full of crack, a corrupt judge, and a fabricated video of Dawn allegedly buying drugs—and after last month’s outrageous legal bill, she had nothing left.
“Stop!” Her scream froze passersby but did nothing to deter her girls, now running hand in hand toward her and into the path of a blue pickup truck racing down the street at twice the school zone speed limit. Dawn’s feet kicked into gear, but even as she threw herself forward, in her heart she knew she wouldn’t make it in time.
A black blur shot in front of the truck. Cade swept her daughters into his strong arms, and out of harm’s way. Moments later her outlaw biker savior deposited the girls on the sidewalk. Seemingly oblivious to their brush with death, Maia and Tia wrapped their skinny arms around her waist and squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe.
“I didn’t know you had kids.”
Dawn looked up at the man who had at once caused the chaos and saved the day, knowing as she did that she would fall headlong into the intoxicating sea of blue she had been trying to forget for the better part of a year.
“Cade.”
“Give it to me, baby. I wanna hear my name on your lips when you come. Scream for me.”
“Oh God. Cade!”
He smiled. She melted. As all women melted at the sight of his chiseled jaw and wide cheekbones, his firm chin and dangerously sexy crooked nose—the only imperfection in a face that could have been sculpted from the finest tawny marble. He wore his cut over a long-sleeved black tee, obscenely stretched to highlight the hard planes and angles of his broad chest. Her hands had traced every ridge of those bulging pecs, fingers clawing at his shoulders countless times during the two nights they’d spent together.
“Been a long time.” His eyes dropped to Maia and Tia. “You never told me about your girls.”
“’Cause they’re not her girls anymore.” The harsh rasp of Shelly-Ann’s voice shattered the moment. “They’re Jimmy’s girls, and he won’t take kindly to a Sinner laying his dirty paws on them or messing with his old lady.”
“I haven’t been his old lady for three years.” Dawn glared at Shelly-Ann, dressed in her uniform of yoga pants and neon-colored sports tank, her red hair swept into a messy haystack on her head to show off her multiple ear piercings. Although Shelly-Ann wasn’t part of Jimmy’s MC, she knew full well that Dawn had ceased to be an old lady—the biker equivalent of a wife in the civilian world—when she ran away from Jimmy. And he’d lost the title of her old man. At least, that’s how it was supposed to work. But of course, outlaw bikers didn’t follow the rules, and because she’d made the mistake of also marrying him in a civil ceremony, she had to file for divorce to try to break his hold. And that’s when Jimmy got really angry.