Why does forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest?
A filthy biker with a reputation for using his fists first and asking questions later, Victor “Viking” Kennedy wasn’t under the illusion that his marriage to Bonnie Dubois had the makings of a grand love affair. She was a prima ballerina—a snobby bitch who knew she was sex-on-legs. She was also ripe for a walk on the wild side with him.
Description:
Release Date: July 24th, 2018
Why does forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest?
A filthy biker with a reputation for using his fists first and asking questions later, Victor “Viking” Kennedy wasn’t under the illusion that his marriage to Bonnie Dubois had the makings of a grand love affair. She was a prima ballerina—a snobby bitch who knew she was sex-on-legs. She was also ripe for a walk on the wild side with him.
Their understanding was mutual. A year-long fling that kept them both satisfied until she headed overseas to pursue her dancing career. It was good while it lasted. The perfect arrangement that took a wrong turn and ended with a surprise pregnancy followed by a shotgun wedding.
Nowadays, they’re just two parents doing their best to raise their son right. And, it was working until his VP’s teenage daughter sashayed her way into his life and turned everything on its head.
She’s off-limits.
An indiscretion punishable by death.
So why can’t Viking find a way to halt their growing connection?
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
“Congratulations,” Alanah says as she passes me the sewing kit I’ll need to fix my new patches onto my cut. “You’ll be a great addition to the Club.”
I’m about to say thanks when she laughs. It’s a curious sound to hear in the current circumstances, and that’s enough to make me remove my gaze from where it’s drilling heated holes of hatred into the back of my dad’s head to meet her crystal-blue eyes.
Alanah lifts one shoulder and quips with the exact amount wryness required to make me forget how angry I am. “Well, it’s not like the bar’s set all that high for you so I can be pretty confident in my prediction.”
With the rest of the people who’ve attended our patch-in ceremony still voicing their outrage at my father’s behaviour, Brian’s little sister provides the perfect salve for my wounded pride. Her joke is what I need to hear—a humorous reminder that eclipsing my father isn’t what you’d call a challenge.
“You’re something else.” I say as I lay my arm across her shoulders and pull her into my side. “Don’t ever change.”
“Ditto,” Alanah replies without hesitation. Her pretty, blue eyes dance with delight. “And try to remember that you don’t have to be your father’s son.”
“Right back at ya. You’re nothing like your mother, Lani.”
I stare at her, unsure whether she’s going to appreciate my use of the nickname from her toddler years. She shows no signs of embarrassment. A slight widening of her eyes is all I get in return and it amuses me. In reality, no one should be this self-possessed at fourteen. It’s not fair to her that she’s missing out on the silly trials and tribulations of being a normal teen. I guess a shitty upbringing affects people in different ways. Some of us become an island, some of us fall into the numbness of drugs, while others become like Alanah.
Too mature and always eager to help.
The feeling of kinship created by our similar circumstances is responsible for what I do next. I know it’s wrong, even as I press my lips against her forehead. I brace for a reaction, only to be left hanging. Brian doesn’t launch himself at me for touching his little sister—no matter how innocent my action is—and, Alanah simply reaches up and squeezes my hand.
I open my mouth to say something—what I don’t know—except the moment is interrupted when Bonnie pushes in between us.
“Congratulations,” she purrs against my mouth seconds before her lips meet mine. I’m barely paying attention to her. I search for Alanah over her shoulder, just glimpsing her as she walks away from us without a backward glance. “Let’s celebrate.”
The music has been turned back up and the spirits in the room are lifting. Bonnie tries to drag me behind her to the dance floor, but I pull my hand from hers.
“Nah, I’ve got to do this first.” Holding the leather patches in the air, I buy myself some time to sort out my shit. “Be five minutes, tops.”
Bonnie begins to roll her eyes at me, which I expected since she doesn’t really understand the inner workings of the Black Shamrocks yet, then she stops. A strange look flits across her face which stops her mocking dead in its tracks. She steps back into my space and places a soft kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a good man, Vic.”
I spend a second watching Bonnie walk across the bar to Shari and Colleen. That was the strangest interaction I’ve ever had with her—and that’s saying something [...]
Bonnie doesn’t do soft kisses on the cheek.
And, she sure as fuck, doesn’t tell anyone that they’re a good man.
“What was that all about?” Brian asks me the moment I approach the rest of them.
“Fuck knows.” I shake my head. “Just Bonnie being Bonnie.”
Wrong answer. Brian grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me toward him. “Not Bonnie, fuck face. Alanah. Who. The. Fuck. Said. You. Could. Kiss. Her?”
“Come on,” Cole protests before I can. “It was nothing.”
He pushes his big body between me and Brian with ease. He’s a protector, through and through. Proving that his dad named him correctly, unlike mine.
How the fuck did I end up dubbed ‘Viking’?
“Yeah?” Brian tries to push around Colin. His previous drugged out state has been replaced by misdirected anger. “Didn’t look like nothin’ to me.”
I step out of his way, holding my hands in the air. “Man, I swear to you. I was just saying thank you to her for making me laugh.”
He pauses, seeming to ponder my explanation. Something clicks in his head and he steps around Colin. Our giant friend regards him with suspicion but lets him pass.
“Dude,” Brian puts his arms around me and slaps me on the back with one hand. “I shoulda realised you’re upset about your dad.”
I revise my previous assessment of how high he still is. There’s no way he’d be hugging me if he wasn’t off his head more than I assumed. Brian usually shies away from any physical contact that doesn’t include fighting or fucking.
“He’s a dick, but it’s not like it’s the first time.” I tried to move away from him.
Brian refuses to let go. I try to pull away again. He steps back just far enough that he can stare me in the eyes. His pupils aren’t as dilated as they were earlier, although they’re still bigger than they should be. But that’s not what catches my attention and stops me from trying to get out of his grasp.
It’s the deadly intent that I read in his gaze that halts me.
“I’ll let you get away with it this one time. Touch Alanah again and I’ll kill you,” Brian states, with bare honesty. He sweeps a hand through the air, gesturing to the room we’re in. “She’s destined for more than this. She deserves more than this and I’m not letting you, or anyone like you, stop her from reaching her potential.”
Rage rushes through me. It pounds like waves in rough surf, back and forth, rising and fall, all in an instant. Rushing to the fore as I realise that he’s basically called me trash, then receding a moment later when it hits me that Brian’s right.
I’m not from good stock.
And he, better than anyone, knows it.
Doesn’t mean he gets a free pass for saying it to my face.
“Fuck you,” I enunciate with precision. “And fuck anyone else who thinks I’m unworthy. I’m not interested in Alanah like that, but if I was, no one would get in my way. I’m not my father and I refuse to dance in his shadow for the rest of my life. I am more than capable of making a run for VP, or even President if I choose.”
Shari and Bonnie come into view. They both seem happy, giggling and dancing about, all that shit girls do when they want to be centre of attention. Brian sees them when I do and steps out of my space. He inclines his head once—it’s both acknowledgement and a threat.
“Yeah?” he asks in a mocking tone. My arms feel heavy with the need to wipe the sneer off his face. “We’ll see about that, Viking.”
About the author:
Kylie Hillman is an International Bestselling Author who lives in South Australia. After spending the past fifteen years regularly moving around the east coast of Australia, she has recently returned to her home state and plans to finally put down roots until her children finish school.
Wife to a Harley-riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke and mum to two crazy, adorable, and eccentric kids, Kylie is also a Crohn’s Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner. When she’s not writing, she can be found sipping tea while she literally “Netflix and Chills” or sharing her appreciation for heavy metal and hard rock music with her neighbours. As a devotee to the use of sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo, it is for the best that she chooses to venture outside her home only on special occasions.
Kylie is represented by Sarah Hershman of Hershman Rights Management.
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