HANDS OFF MY WIFE_Black Cossacks MC Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC copyright @ 2017 by Claire St. Rose and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  Contents

  HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  EPILOGUE

  SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR: Blood Brothers MC

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  Books by Claire St. Rose

  HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC

  SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR: Blood Brothers MC

  DADDY AT THE ALTAR: Iron Claws MC

  PREGNANT AT THE ALTAR: Immortal Souls MC

  BENT AT THE ALTAR: Broken Lions MC

  BIKER’S GIFT: Chrome Kings MC

  BIKER’S CHILD: The Saint’s Disciples MC

  BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC

  RECKLESS: The Hangman’s Crows MC

  SAUL: The Pagans MC

  CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC

  MONSTER: Teutonic Knights MC

  Her Beast: Bagram Nine MC

  Take the Devil's Deal: Northern Hounds MC

  DEVIL’S CLAIM: Apaches MC

  HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC

  By Claire St. Rose

  I’LL ONLY SAY IT ONCE: KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY WIFE.

  She had no business getting involved with me.

  But now that she’s mine, she’s no one else’s.

  And if anyone – her boss, my enemies – think they can take her from me…

  They are dead. F**king. Wrong.

  She’s the upstairs neighbor, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

  I’m a biker king doing whatever I damn well please.

  She thinks she hates me, but she’s wrong.

  She wants me.

  She needs me.

  I just have to make her see it.

  But she’s got no place in this biker life.

  She’s too pure, too innocent.

  So it’s a shame when she throws herself in the middle of the crossfire without even realizing it.

  I used her, I’ll admit it.

  But I did what I had to do.

  And if I had to go back, I’d do it over again.

  Because now that she’s had a taste of the wild side, she’s gonna be hungry for more.

  And I’m just the man to give it to her.

  Over, and over, and over again.

  She’s mine now.

  So everyone else better stay the f**k away.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ABBIE

  Groaning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Some jackass outside revved up his motorcycle again, and a few others joined in on it. Their raucous laughter and loud voices carried into my bedroom and seemed to bore directly into my brain. I ground my teeth and sighed. These morons acted like they were the only people in the world and that the rest of us didn't matter. To those jerks, we probably didn't. Well, some of us had jobs. Actual jobs that required us to be awake and alert. And people like those rude idiots were making it extremely difficult for those of us who had to be at work the next morning to get any damn sleep.

&nbs
p; It was futile, but I went over to the window anyway. Pulling it open, I stared down at the misfit gang of unruly motorcyclists in the street outside. There were too many to count, but their leader always stood out to me. He was tall and blonde, but he mainly stood out to me because out of all the jackasses down there, he was the only one who had the balls to smile at me. Every time. He smiled at me whenever I told them I needed to sleep and asked them to please quiet down.

  It wasn't just the need for sleep that had me on edge. Though that was enough in and of itself. Having been elected to my apartment's association meant that I was expected to deal with that kind of crap. And if I didn't and wasn't able to make them stop, I was going to lose my seat on the board and the nice little discount on rent that came with it. The reason there had been a vacancy on the board to begin with was because the last person resigned simply to avoid dealing with these assholes – not that I blamed her.

  I'd tried to be nice and cordial to them, at first.

  “Hey guys? Could you please keep it down out there?”

  And as always, the leader of that band of thugs smiled and waved at me. But when that didn't work and they kept being loud and obnoxious, I turned into a mega-bitch.

  “Hey fuckers!” I shouted. “Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning, so could you please get the hell out of here and find some other apartment complex to terrorize?”

  Their leader smiled up at me again and blew me a kiss. I could see it all the way from my apartment window upstairs. My blood boiled and my head hurt from the surge of anger inside of me. He was an arrogant, condescending asshole and I hated him for it. The others laughed. All of them did. The big, burly men with tattoos and scars didn't care about little old me. I was no threat to them. My shouts and idle threats were about as effective as somebody shaking their fist at a tornado.

  Not that I necessarily blamed them. When they looked at me, all they saw was a little girl whom they could brush off and laugh at. Yeah, I was petite, but I was also fierce. I thought maybe they underestimated me. But then, I thought maybe a little stupid – or a little bit insane – because I knew what I had to do and was going out there to do it. I was slipping into some pajama pants, ready to rip them a new one, when I heard more bikes approaching. Looking out the window, I saw a dozen or more bikes pull up, the roar of their engines almost deafening. I saw a bunch of Latino men climbing off their bikes and greet the others who'd been partying in the street below my window.

  Great. More of them. And these guys were new, so it was probably some sort of drug deal or something. I sighed. I didn't look like I'd be getting any sleep after all. Not there at least.

  Grabbing a backpack, I stuffed it with a change of clothes and some toiletries. I knew my lecture wouldn't make them stop. If anything, it would probably just make them mock me and get even louder and more obnoxious – if that were even possible. So I figured that after I gave them a stern talking to, I would head over to my best friend's place down the street and spend the night. I knew that, at least there, I'd get some damn sleep. Michelle would still be up; she was a night owl. I sent her a text message and she responded right away.

  “Sure, come on over,” her message read.

  With my backpack slung upon my shoulders, I stepped out of my apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me. And then checking it again, just to be sure. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, several of those pigs in leather jackets started hooting and hollering. They catcalled and whistled, calling me shit like “baby” and “sweet tits.” I glared at them. I didn't think it was possible, but these pigs made me hate them even more.

  “I ain't no one's baby, you fucking pigs,” I yelled back, giving them the finger.

  Their leader was a huge man who had blonde hair that fell almost to his shoulders and had a mass of tattoos that covered his bare arms. He was built like a house and was possibly the largest man I'd ever seen. He was probably twice my height and triple my weight, but I wasn't about to let that towering, hulking cretin intimidate me.

  I walked right up to him and was so angry that I was ready to smack that smug, arrogant smile right off his face. His eyes were a soft blue that seemed somewhat kind – which seemed out of place on the rough, scarred up face. But those same eyes seemed to laugh at me as he watched me cross the parking lot. Wagging a finger in his face, I started in on him.

  “Every night, you jackasses come out here,” I said, shaking with my barely controlled anger, “And every night I ask you to leave. I tried to be nice. Hell, I was nicer than I should have been. Yet you're still here, night after night, making all kinds of noise and, in general, being rude, obnoxious douchebags. Some of us have to work in the morning and need to get some sleep. I realize that most of you dirtbags probably don't have real jobs, but some of us do and we don't appreciate you assholes making all this goddamn noise.”

  A crowd of men swarmed around us, and that was the first time I felt anything resembling fear. Yet, the anger within me lit a fire that quickly moved from smoldering to inferno and I couldn't back down. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't let them see they were getting under my skin.

  Some of the Latino men were also watching me from a distance, scowling, with their arms crossed in front of their chests. A large man with dark, slicked back hair looked at me and was smiling. He seemed to be laughing at me. I took him to be the leader of the other gang based on the fact that the rest of his crew were standing behind him protectively, leaving him out front and in the center.

  “You think this is funny, asshole?” I shouted. “Because I don't. What if I went to your house while you were sleeping and revved up my engine outside your window, huh? What if I played my music loud, made all sorts of noise, and acted like a rude, obnoxious jerk?”

  The Latino man shrugged. “You can come to my house anytime you like, mi putita.” And then the bastard blew me a kiss.

  Thanks to my high school Spanish class – but mostly my friends who spoke Spanish – I knew just enough of the language to be offended. I flipped the man off and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster. The blonde leader, who always smiled at me, let out a low whistle and shook his head. But he still hadn't said much. He seemed amused by my act, but even that last bit of ranting might have gone too far for him. Not that I really cared.

  The leader of the Mexican bikers uncrossed his arms and started to walk over to me, but one of his men stopped him, giving him a pointed look. That's when I heard the sirens. Police sirens.

  “Shit, did you call the cops, man?” one of the guys behind me said, grabbing my arm and twisting me around to face him.

  “No, but I should have,” I spat, pulling my arm away. “Someone else obviously feels the way I do about you assholes.”

  “Let her go, Jake,” the blonde man said. “That's not the way we roll. You know that.”

  Reluctantly, the man he'd called Jake let go of my arm and gave me a very hard stare – a stare that said he'd love to get me into a locked room with no windows. Imagining what he might do if he ever got that opportunity set my stomach roiling and sent a cold chill across my skin.

  CHAPTER TWO

  KING

  I almost felt bad for the girl. Night after night, my boys annoyed and terrorized the shit out of her and her neighbors. And there we are again. We seemed to push the limits a bit farther each time, and tonight she decided to do something about it. Bad timing, baby. Bad time to come down there and get involved.

  Did I feel bad for keeping a pretty little thing like her awake at night? Maybe a little. Hey, I know my guys are loud and rambunctious. I know we can cause some trouble sometimes. But the little parking lot of her apartment building sat at the edge of town and just so happened to be the prime meeting spot after a run – it was just off of a freeway, just outside the city limits and was hidden behind a bunch of large trees that keep us from sight. There were very few other houses or buildings around. And it was right on our way back to the clubhouse.

  You couldn't have asked for a better, more
fitting location. Until that hot little brunette got involved, that was. No one from her building seemed to care before. Nobody ever got involved. Maybe they'd been too afraid of us to open their mouths. I was sure they'd heard the stories and, likely because of that, they'd kept their windows shut and stayed to themselves whenever The Black Cossacks rolled up in there. But not this one. She wasn't easily intimidated. No, she was as feisty as she was sexy.

  But the sound of sirens coming our way made it clear that someone had called. I could tell by the look on her face – it was a look of genuine surprise – that it hadn't been her. Besides, she didn't seem like the typical damsel in distress who waited for somebody to come to her rescue. Not this one. She seemed like the take-charge kind of girl. The fact that she was willing to get in my face and give my boys the finger and a lot of harsh words told me that. Someone else had made that call, I was sure of it. Didn't matter who.

  The deal we'd worked out with the Mexicans couldn't fall through. This was the big one. The big score. This was the one that would let us all retire, live off our investments, and give up this life for good. It was something I'd been looking forward to. A lot. Running weed and security had been fun for a while – when I was younger. Sure, I might still be considered young, but this lifestyle aged you faster than hell. You saw too much, did the unthinkable. When you lived this outlaw sort of lifestyle, you played hard, rode hard and, quite often, died hard. That wasn't the way I wanted to go out.

  No, I wanted to go out quietly. And many, many years from now. I just wanted to own a bar, keep to myself and stay off the radar. I was done with this type of shit and, once this deal went through, we could all hit the road for good.

  But of course, nothing in this life ever came easily.