“But is it?” I repeat like I did the very first time she said those words to me.
Instead of answering, she slips her hands through the arm holes until the leather sits on her shoulders.
“Looks good on you, little chick. Check the pocket.”
She does as I say and finds the ring that Kasey helped me pick. A purple sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.
“Will you wear this too? I want to marry you, Iris. Can’t imagine what the next fifty years look like if you aren’t in them with me.”
She takes my hand and runs her fingers over my purple iris tattoo then the four letters of her name across my knuckles. I’m wearing her as much as she’s wearing me.
“Of course I’ll marry you. When she looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers, I’m sunk. “I love you.”
I take the ring from her hand and slide it on her finger. It sparkles in the sunshine, kind of like she does. She steps up on her toes and kisses me while everyone else cheers.
“Thank fuck,” I whisper against her lips, wrapping my arms tight around her. “Because I love you too.”
READY FOR SAINT AND BRIAR?
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Spark is a one-of-a-kind hero, and I loved writing Iris (and her class). I’m so grateful to you for taking the time to read their story and would love you forever if you would take a minute to rate, review, or share it.
Want TWO BONUS SCENES? The prologue was originally two full scenes covering the shooting of Iris. During editing, I realised it slowed the start of the book so I condensed it. If you want to read the two scenes, sign up for my newsletter here. Don’t forget to double opt in. Now read on for an exclusive excerpt.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To each of you. You’ve blown me away. You’ve taken this series and these men to your heart and have shared your love for it in ways I can barely comprehend. I love you all.
Thanks to my amazingly talented team. Manu, Isabel, and Michele for making the story shine. Letitia, Wander, and Douglas for the incredible cover. And Dani for her marketing wiz.
Thanks to Carly Phillips and Natasha Madison for being the best writer friends a girl could wish for.
And thank you to T, F, & L … I love you all.
THE LIES WE TELL
SAINT (UNEDITED, SO FINAL MAY DIFFER )
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter as I dash around my undercover apartment, shoving anything that might keep me alive for the next four hours into a backpack.
I yank open the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink and grab my medical kit, one with more than just over-the-counter remedies. Antibiotics. Synthetic monofilament sutures. The kind of painkillers that can cause addiction.
When I stand, I see my hair and beard trimmings in the sink and wonder who the real me is as I run my fingers across my mouth, beardless for the first time in years. Spark used to tease me I looked like Jesus. Now I look like what I am. What I’m supposed to be.
Fuck.
I don’t even know who that is anymore.
Am I really clean-cut undercover special agent Ryker Miller with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco Firearms and Explosives? Because that guy surely wouldn’t have just detonated his career as I’ve done. Or am I really Saint, preacher for the Iron Outlaws Motorcycle club. Or, in Ryker’s language, an outlaw motorcycle gang.
For two years, I’ve danced between the two.
And today I picked a side.
My brothers’.
But doing so has made me their enemy number one, collapsed a huge inter-departmental investigation, and will likely cost me my life. At some point, I’m certain my Iron Outlaws tattoos will be burned off my body.
Bates will do it. He loves the sound of pain.
I’ve made this bed, and now I need to lie in it.
Because I need Briar.
Well, I need Briar back.
Here with me where I can look after her.
Where she can look after me.
And we can love each other.
Well, like we were starting too.
But until I’m out of danger, I need to keep my distance from her.
I run back into the bedroom. “Think,” I mutter. There’s nothing in here that can place me in any way. My electronics are packed. My wallet with all my fake identification was tossed in a dumpster halfway between here and the shoot-out at the warehouse. My real identification is in my real house in Portland, Maine. In the last few weeks, I’ve procured another set of documents that neither the ATF nor the Iron Outlaws know about. I also stole two weapons from the club.
If I’m fucked, I might as well be properly fucked.
I maybe have another ten minutes.
I chose to help Spark because of the kind of man he is. I’ve seen the sacrifices a man like that makes. And for once in my life I want to do the right thing.
I made calls I shouldn’t have.
I made calls I should.
I stuff my fleece, waterproof clothes, and hiking boots into the suitcase. I’ll buy more, but the basics are good. I’ve already thrown my tent and sleeping bag into my truck. Not the truck the club knew about, but the one I kept parked on a patch of dirt a mile from the clubhouse. I left my bike there. They’ll figure it out eventually, but by then, I’ll have made it to Maine and picked up my own transport.
My phone rings, and I know I’m in shit. Because instead of it being Weicker, my boss, it’s Special Agent in Charge, Larry Deremo. They know they can call my undercover phone now.
Instead of answering, I hang up and then make a call I don’t want to.
“Saint, what happened, man. Where the fuck are you?” King, president of the Iron Outlaws, says when I answer. I admire him as a man and a leader. He makes the toughest calls with the greatest of ease. I watched him put a bullet in his girlfriend’s head after he found out she was a traitor to the club.
I also saw the look of pure anguish on his face as he did it.
“Listen to me and listen good, King. You’ve got about an hour. I know you are at the hospital for Spark and Iris, but you need to get the weapons out of the warehouse. You’ve all got to clean down your homes and vehicles. Cash. Weapons. Fake ids. All of it. You need to get Track out of town. Send him and Tessa to Philly, just for now. He was the only one dumb enough to talk on tape.”
“On tape. What the fuck, Saint? What did you do?” He’s yelling by the end.
“I did what I had to for the women. For Iris. For Br—” I nearly say Briar’s name, but King doesn’t know about her. And I want her to be a part of my real life, not my pretend one. If they know her name, they have a link to me. If they find her, they’ll use her to get me.
“You’re undercover?” King snarls as I slip my cut off my shoulders. I lay it down on the bed, feeling naked without it already. I run my fingers over my road name patch.
Saint.
I’ve been him, and he’s been me for two years now. I feel like I’m leaving my best friend in this place.
“Doesn’t matter who I am. Just promise me. They’ll come for the club. I blew everything up today so you guys don’t go down for what happened in the warehouse when we rescued Iris. So, they’ll try to close in on what they’ve got.”