“That’s the thing about the broken ones—they’re never too far beyond repair, even though it might seem that way. They just need a little glue and the right pair of hands to stick ’em back together.”
― Tank
When I was ten, my father indoctrinated me into the family.
A brotherhood who would fight, protect, and give their lives for one another. A club whose ties ran thicker than blood, murkier than the dirt and grime that tainted my soul. Stronger than the bonds that connected me to my own family.
A band of brothers, where loyalty was kept and paid in a currency of blood.
When I was twenty-seven, I betrayed that brotherhood.
I’ve spent every day since running, avoiding paying back that debt.
My name is Daniel Johnson. I have betrayed everyone I ever loved.
And I’ll betray her too.
This is my story—if you’re screwed up enough to want to read it.
Warning: Kick contains graphic violence, profanity, drug use, and explicit sexual situations of a taboo nature. Intended for an 18+ audience only. Not intended for pussies.
A brotherhood who would fight, protect, and give their lives for one another. A club whose ties ran thicker than blood, murkier than the dirt and grime that tainted my soul. Stronger than the bonds that connected me to my own family.
A band of brothers, where loyalty was kept and paid in a currency of blood.
When I was twenty-seven, I betrayed that brotherhood.
I’ve spent every day since running, avoiding paying back that debt.
My name is Daniel Johnson. I have betrayed everyone I ever loved.
And I’ll betray her too.
This is my story—if you’re screwed up enough to want to read it.
Warning: Kick contains graphic violence, profanity, drug use, and explicit sexual situations of a taboo nature. Intended for an 18+ audience only. Not intended for pussies.
Tank
Killer. Criminal. Sociopath.
All of these words have been used to describe me, and for the longest time I believed that that’s all I was.
I’m the man you call in to clean up your mess, assuming your mess is a guy who needs a bullet to the head. I’m the man the MC calls when they want their dirty work done.
I’m the man who doesn’t feel.
Until now.
Until her.
Now my mess is a woman who won’t save herself. I’ll fight like hell to save her, but at what price to the club? And at what cost to me?
Warning: TANK contains graphic violence, profanity, drug use, and explicit sexual situations that may be a trigger and cause some readers emotional discomfort. Intended for an 18+ audience only. Not intended for pussies.
All of these words have been used to describe me, and for the longest time I believed that that’s all I was.
I’m the man you call in to clean up your mess, assuming your mess is a guy who needs a bullet to the head. I’m the man the MC calls when they want their dirty work done.
I’m the man who doesn’t feel.
Until now.
Until her.
Now my mess is a woman who won’t save herself. I’ll fight like hell to save her, but at what price to the club? And at what cost to me?
Warning: TANK contains graphic violence, profanity, drug use, and explicit sexual situations that may be a trigger and cause some readers emotional discomfort. Intended for an 18+ audience only. Not intended for pussies.
As the president of the Savage Saints MC, I’ve got a million goddamn problems. I thought the woman who cleans my clubhouse would be the least of them. But that’s just what Raine Levick is—a f*cking problem.
My problem.
Not because she’s sweet and likely gonna get herself killed without the club’s protection, but because I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop wanting her.
I’ve got a ring on my finger that belongs to someone else, but when the bodies pile up, staying away from her is a war I can’t win. Even if it breaks us both—and it will break us.
Raine
I fell for Jetthro King the second I laid eyes on him. He took me in and gave me a job, a family, and the club’s protection, but he broke my heart all in the same breath.
Love, loss, ruin.
That’s what falling for the MC President gets you.
He’s a married man. I have no right to want him because I’ve been keeping secrets of my own and once Jett finds out, he may never look at me the same way again.
Warning: JETT contains graphic violence, loss, and sensitive subject matter that may cause some readers emotional discomfort. Intended for an 18+ audience only.
Not intended for pussies.
