Rough Ride (Chaos Series #4.5) by Kristen Ashley
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Ashley comes a new story in her Chaos series…
Rosalie Holloway put it all on the line for the Chaos Motorcycle Club.
Informing to Chaos on their rival club—her man’s club, Bounty—Rosalie knows the stakes. And she pays them when her man, who she was hoping to scare straight, finds out she’s betrayed him and he delivers her to his brothers to mete out their form of justice.
But really, Rosie has long been denying that, as she drifted away from her Bounty, she’s been falling in love with Everett “Snapper” Kavanagh, a Chaos brother. Snap is the biker-boy-next door with the snowy blue eyes, quiet confidence and sweet disposition who was supposed to keep her safe…and fell down on that job.
For Snapper, it’s always been Rosalie, from the first time he saw her at the Chaos Compound. He’s just been waiting for a clear shot. But he didn’t want to get it after his Rosie was left bleeding, beat down and broken by Bounty on a cement warehouse floor.
With Rosalie a casualty of an ongoing war, Snapper has to guide her to trust him, take a shot with him, build a them…
And fold his woman firmly in the family that is Chaos.
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Excerpt Rough Ride (Chaos Series #4.5) by Kristen Ashley
He spit on me.
I felt it land on the side of my chin and slide down.
I didn’t move to wipe it away.
Lying on my side, curled into a ball, the pain screamed through me. All of it—and there was a lot of it—demanding attention, I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think, couldn’t move in case it got worse. I couldn’t do anything but lie there and pray that it was over.
He bent over me, grabbed my hair, yanked it back, and I felt his hot breath hit my face.
“See if he wants you now, you stupid bitch,” he hissed.
He let my hair go and I felt him retreat, but he still wasn’t done.
He kicked me so hard with his foot in its heavy motorcycle boot, my body slid across the cement.
I was too far gone even to grunt.
I felt something bounce off my hip, clatter to the floor, and then his voice came back, this time from further away.
“There you go, baby,” he drawled. “Your line to Chaos. We’re done with you. I’m done with you. Now they can have you.”
I heard boots on cement, more than just his, his Bounty brothers in the club. I sustained a couple more kicks as they passed. One of them grabbed the underside of my jaw and shoved my head back into the cement, also spitting, his hitting my neck.
And then they were gone.
I lay there, my focus on breathing and continuing to do it even though each breath was not only an effort but an agony. The fear I’d felt early when he took me, how he’d taken me, the way he’d handled me and I knew he’d figured it out, had dissipated as pain took its place. Now, the fear was returning that they’d come back and dish out more.
He’d come back.