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.
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.
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.”
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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: email@example.com