Alamo stood in the middle of a sea of boxes that filled his new house. He was no stranger to moving. Growing up, he’d been rousted from his bed more times than he could count to move to a new place in the middle of the night. His mother would let the back rent build up as far as she could, and then they’d skip out. Mix in a few turns in foster care over the years when she was arrested, and he’d become something of a pro at traveling light and moving quickly. This time, though, he was moving everything he’d accumulated over several years of stability. He had absolutely no desire to put it to rights in a new place.
Truth be told, this new house was the nicest place he’d ever lived. It wasn’t home, though. Home was a modest-sized apartment in Durham, North Carolina. Home was having his sister Zoe in the house, badly imitating his Spanish cusswords and singing like a cat in a surly mood—and he missed it.
He’d lost that right when he’d lost his temper. He knew it, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He’d done the right thing, and there wasn’t a minute of it that he regretted. The man deserved every punch, but that was neither here nor there. Truth didn’t change facts, and the facts were that Alamo was a big man, and his long-gone father wasn’t as white as his mama had been. Race shouldn’t matter, but sometimes having darker skin still did, especially in a city where drug traffic was as common as it was in Durham. The police tended to blame it on one segment of the population, those with darker skin. He was a large man with darker skin. To add to that, once the police saw the motorcycle club patches on his jacket, Alamo was far too likely to end up in jail if he stayed in North Carolina.
This time they had a reason of sorts. He had put that pendejo in the hospital. And an uptown white boy in his expensive clothes could afford the sort of lawyers who twisted truth until it looked nothing like reality. Alamo knew it, had known it before he’d taken the first swing. Sometimes, though, a man had to stand up for a woman regardless of the cost. Zoe’s friend had no one else to stand up for her, so Alamo did what needed doing. It was that simple.
bestselling author. Drawing on a lifetime love of romance novels and a few
years running a biker bar, she decided to write what she knew–dangerous men
with Harleys and tattoos. Her debut “Ronnie book” was indie-published as part
of a series she created and wrote with friends in 2014. You can find Ronnie at:
the first title in the Knights in Black Leather Series