Naked
Dirty Love
A Rough Riders
Novel #2
The Rough Riders
Series
By Selene
Chardou
Welcome to
Northern Nevada where three Motorcycle Clubs rule the Tri-Cities
area.
Club life is all
about money, fast bikes and faster women. Most importantly though
is brotherhood. Trey Lennon knows he had it as a Demon's Bastard but now
he is a Lucifer's Saint, his life seems like he's starting all over again.
Then she comes along.
Kyra Hughes.
The daughter of Jonesy
Hughes, the President of the Demon's Bastards. The one woman Trey couldn't have
as Demon's Bastard and the last person he should be attracted to as a Lucifer's
Saints club member.
The two clubs have
kept the peace between each other for a long time but Carlito Navarro
has other plans. He is intent on destroying the cozy situation between the
clubs to make way for Aztecas Infierno, the MC and cartel who has his lifelong
allegiance. Now he's found the club's weak link, he's going to use it.
And burn it all to the
ground.
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Trey’s private quarters were clean
and orderly to the point of obsession. His bed was made with classic military
precision and there weren’t any clothes or shoes thrown about the room. He
simply had a king-sized bed, fancy desk with a comfortable leather office
chair, and a fifteen-inch MacBook Pro. I turned around and also viewed an oak
drawer set with a thirty-six inch flat screen television, Blu-ray player, and
speakers to amp the sound.
“Why don’t you sit on the bed and
tell me what this is about?” he demanded loudly, snapping me out of my
thoughts.
I’d judged this man all wrong. From
the way he worked on motorcycles to his brilliance as a computer hacker, I
assumed he’d be like most men I’d known my whole life. Grown up boys who were
dirty, bathed when they remembered to, and weren’t great with housekeeping.
This guy was the complete opposite - it made him an utter enigma.
I cleared my throat as I sat down on
his perfect bed. I felt bad about rumpling the down comforter but he didn’t
seem to mind as he sat next to me, completely calm and quiet. He crossed his
arms against firm pecs that were clearly visible through his tight, white
t-shirt. His stance, obviously defensive, almost hostile, bothered me more than
I cared to admit.
Why was he being so dismissive
toward me? Had I done something wrong? I’d always assumed we were friendly, and
although he was part of the Saints MC, I didn’t resent him for leaving the
Bastards. I assumed it was something personal and never asked my father about
it; not that he would have told me anyway. He’d have merely grunted, “Club
business—nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
As if I wasn’t an attorney who
served both clubs—just like my partner—and like we were civvies, completely
unaware with what the clubs were doing. Hell, we’d use the law firm as a
money-laundering front, setting up accounts everywhere from Switzerland to the
Cayman Islands for the clubs, the Mafia, and the cartel. They certainly weren’t
sending clean money to any of those places when large-scale transfers were
involved.
I felt like we were still looked
upon as children or old ladies—nothing was our business until someone got into
legal trouble and then it was our
business to get them out of it. The
contradictory sons of bitches were all alike. Women weren’t good for anything
but screwing and having babies until they really needed us; then we were
supposed to go above and beyond the call of duty to make them happy.
Fucking bikers.
Fuck the motherfucking MC, and all
their stupid fucking codes and rules, and club motherfucking business.
“I know Killer told us to take all
the time we needed but seriously, I gotta get back to work and if we take too
much time, everyone’ll assume we’re fuckin’ so can we move this show along?”
Trey questioned, his voice softening.
I glared at him with cold eyes. “And
why would it be so bad for everyone
to assume we were fuckin’? Am I not good enough for you, Trey Lennon?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “That
don’t have nothin’ to do with it, Kyra. You’re Jonesy’s daughter and you know the rules. You were forbidden when
I was in the Demon’s Bastards MC. Now that I’m a part of the Lucifer’s Saints
MC, you think your father is gonna be hunky-dory with his daughter and me bein’
somethin’ other than acquaintances?”
“Well, he didn’t say much when
Cricket and I had a thing goin’ on—”
“Jonesy didn’t say nothin’ ’cause he
knew it wouldn’t last. That’s not the same as you and me. We always had
something between us but neither of us ever wanted to pursue it and, baby, if I
did pursue something with you, it’d be for keeps. I’m not gonna romance ya or
fuck ya and lie about how you don’t mean nothin’ to me because you would.”
See complete Authors bookshelf here on her
Amazon Author Page
Amazon Author Page
Selene Chardou is a world traveler and the
alter-ego of Elle Chardou.
Ms. Chardou’s writing is all about hot romance
and exciting times with the wild, damaged, out of control, rich and famous set
in the world of Contemporary Romance.
She is currently working on a vast array of
books about good girls gone bad, bikers, gangsters, fighters, lovers, and
anyone else she finds remotely interesting. When not writing, she enjoys
daydreaming about her next trip to France, jet-setting across the country to
author signings and playing taxi driver to her school-age daughters.
Ms. Chardou currently resides with her two
children and their multitude of stuffed animals in Las Vegas, Nevada.
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If you would like to email Selene Chardou, she
can be reached at: selenechardou@gmail.com
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