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  The Hero

  Ghosttown Riders Book 2

  Amelia Shea

  Copyright © 2020 Amelia Shea

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyright is illegal. No part of this book may be distributed, reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  For Dan, who always comes through when I need him the most. The journey to making this series become a reality was long. Your support, encouragement and unwavering belief in me made it all possible. You're my hero, babe.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About The Author

  Ghosttown Riders Series

  The Hero By Amelia Shea

  A Ghosttown Riders Motorcycle Club Book

  Some heroes ride up on a horse, others pull up decked out in leather, raising hell on a Harley.

  Ambitious, headstrong and smart-mouthed, Macy Matthews does not have forever on the brain. Newly single after an ego-wounding breakup, Macy is out to prove her ex wrong. She is far from boring. After all, do boring girls have threesomes? When an opportunity with two Ghosttown Riders is presented, she’s all in. But when the man she’s been crushing on for months turns out to be one of the players, Macy may be in over her head.

  For Rourke Hanson, women are a dime a dozen, until the woman he’s been watching for months gives him an offer he can’t refuse. One night proves not enough for Rourke. She is a game changer, and he’s about to toss all his self-written rules for the mouthy spitfire.

  When Macy’s safety is jeopardized, nothing will stand in his way of keeping her protected. Not even Macy, herself. However, it may take a small miracle for this sassy beauty and the rough, harsh brute to finally come together and find their much deserved, happily ever after.

  Chapter One

  “Now, who’s boring, asshole?”

  Stop talking to yourself. It’s weird as shit.

  Macy glanced around her surroundings from the concrete slab landing of the Ghosttown Riders’ clubhouse. Luckily, the group near the driveway wasn’t within hearing distance. She sighed and rolled her shoulders. Why am I so damn nervous? It wasn’t the first time she’d been there. However, she usually showed up with her best friend, Cheyenne. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag and bit her lip. She wasn’t feeling it tonight. She should have stayed home licking her wounds and making a voodoo doll of her ex. Chances were, if she slipped away and went home, no one would be the wiser. Aside from the small group of strangers, no one saw her. She stepped down the stairs. She’d just tell Cheyenne something came up, work or a last-minute date.

  Date, really? C’mon, girl, she won’t buy it. After all, you’re boring, remember?

  Those weren’t Cheyenne’s words. They were Jason’s. It was her ex-boyfriend’s excuse for breaking up with her. Boring. He didn’t go into explicit detail during the break-up, but he didn’t hold back from calling her boring before he admitted he wanted to see other people. Since when did not wanting anal sex make a person boring?

  She glanced over her shoulder to the clubhouse’s steel door. Did boring girls go to motorcycle clubs and hang out with bikers on Friday nights? She stared back at the door, feeling the tension rise into her chest. Just do it and prove the douchebag wrong. Her cheeks heated at the realization. The idea she was driven to prove anything was evidence enough as to how deep his words had cut her. This wasn’t her. She was bold and confident. No one could knock her down, not a man, not a woman, no one. Yet, somehow Jason managed to get inside, find her weakness, and feed off of it. And I let him. It was a carefully crafted mindfuck. She’d taken his opinion and made it a fact, rocking her confidence and allowing self-doubt to seep in. Shit.

  Macy drew in a deep breath, casting her ex out of her head. I’m fabulous. He’s a douchecanoe, end of story. “I’m sexy, smart, and I’m hanging at a biker club. Fuck you, Jason,” she muttered. Stop talking to yourself. She slowly walked up the stairs again and knocked on the door.

  When she’d gotten the text in the morning from Cheyenne, she took a minute to contemplate the invite. Spending a Friday night watching her best friend flirt and carry on with her boyfriend was not her idea of a great time. Since Chey and Trax had gotten together, their girl time had been limited. Macy had to take what she could get. She missed her one on one time with Cheyenne, but hanging at the club did have its benefits. The eye candy of muscles, tattoos, and leather was a perk she couldn’t pass up, especially with her newly single status.

  A lot had changed since Cheyenne and Trax had gotten together officially. She spent more time at the clubhouse, which meant Macy did, too. Her initial take on the club had been harsh, even she could admit she’d been unfairly judgmental, allowing herself to buy into the stereotype. Not to say they were model citizens. They weren’t, not even close. However, they’d always been welcoming when she’d come in with Cheyenne.

  She inched closer to the door.

  From the sound blaring through the wall, the party was in full swing. She brushed her hand through her hair. If she didn’t get inside and out of this humidity, her hair would lose all its curl. She raised her hand again as the door flew open, and a large fat bald guy came flying toward her. She quickly fell to the side and hugged the building, watching him stumble down the three steps and land face first on the pavement.

  “This was us being nice, come back again and we won’t be so nice next time.” The male voice boomed past from the opening.

  Macy poked her head in the open doorway and came face to face with an angry, red-faced man. She’d seen him once or twice but had never spoken to him. Prospect. She wasn’t fluent in biker lingo, but as Cheyenne had explained, the men had to prospect for a while before becoming a full-fledged member. She smiled and waved her hand. He scowled at her as if he was seconds from slamming the door in her face. She righted herself and stepped forward.

  “Hi, I’m Macy.”

  “So?”

  She flinched, flickering her lashes. She wasn’t expecting a welcome wagon, but was being rude necessary? She straightened her back and forced another smile.

  “I’m a friend of Cheyenne’s. She invited me.”

  He took a long, floor-length perusal of her body, his expression giving nothing away. If anything, he appeared unimpressed. She furrowed her brows. She’d put a lot of effort into her outfit. Not quite as daring as most women in the clubhouse. Her jeans were tight and hugged her ass, and with her form-fitting top, the cleavage was flowing. What the hell was his problem? This man was wounding her ego. Well, fuck him. She wasn’t there for him anyway. When his gaze traveled up her body, he stilled on her breasts. This was nothing new. Not many men could pass over her boobs. For her frame, they were large. His gaze rose to meet hers, and she smiled.

  “Nah.” He grabbed the door and proceeded to close it. What?

  Macy stepped up, slapping her hand on the door and halting its closure. “Wait, why not?”

  His lips turned down, and his brows knitted together tightly. “’Cause you got nothing any of the guys want.”

  What the fuck?

  She sucked in a breath at the harsh insult. “How do you know?”

  He snickered and shook his head. “’Cause I know what the guys want, and you ain’t it.”

  Heat rose from her chest and blazed up
her neck. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone had taken a dig at her appearance, but this guy was being a blatant dick. Who the hell was he to judge her? Motherfucker! She tried her best to reel in her rage. Throat punching him was not the answer. Or is it? She pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath.

  “Yeah, well Cheyenne invited me.” She pushed at the door, but he held it firmly.

  He snorted and turned to the open hall she couldn’t see. “Yeah, well, slit, this ain’t Cheyenne’s club, and she don’t get to invite anyone.” His lip curled, twisting his face into a nasty sneer. “We got standards on who we let in.”

  Macy could feel the burn tingling her cheeks. At this point, he was being purposefully cruel. His intent was to hurt her and he was succeeding. Why did some men feel the need to go after women for their looks? Hell, this guy was no prize. Being best friends with Cheyenne set her up for never being the prettiest girl in the room. She wasn’t ugly. She was average and basic. There was nothing overtly spectacular about Macy. She was short and curvy, which sometimes calculated to thick. So what if she wasn’t a size two?

  She eyed the jerk and his smug smile. He had gotten to her, and he knew it.

  “Can I just talk to Chey?”

  “Bitch, I ain’t your messenger. Fucking call her if you wanna talk.”

  When she opened her mouth, the sharp breeze smacked her in the face before she could say anything else. He had slammed the door in her face. She stumbled backward in shock. She’d met a lot of assholes in her life, and even dated a few, yet she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so severely insulted.

  If she knew which bike was his, she would have been tempted to slit his tires. Seems like I’ll be making two voodoo dolls tonight. She jerked around and pulled out her phone.

  She groaned.

  “Shit.” She forgot to charge it. Again. Cheyenne was going to be her ride home, so she had cabbed it over. Now, she’d have to pay to get home too. And the hits just keep on coming…

  She started toward the steps and halted. Her eyes flicked down the road.

  The rumbling engines always caught her attention, and she watched as three motorcycles pulled into the small side lot of the clubhouse. She scanned their faces. She knew all three members of the club. Relax. She inhaled deeply in hopes of settling her racing heart. She turned around and walked down the steps, eyeing the last biker to pull in.

  Rourke Hanson.

  Was it even possible for a twenty-six-year-old to harbor a crush on a man? Especially one who looked like a serial killer. It was a fair assessment. The man had more tattoos than bare skin. Her gaze traveled down his leg as he dismounted from his bike. She wondered if his lower region was covered as much as his top half. She’d be left to wonder because if ever there was an opposite to Macy, it was Rourke.

  In the past six months since she’d first met him, he’d maybe said twenty words to her, and none of them overly friendly. He dropped his helmet onto his handlebar and started in her direction. His head was bowed down as he slipped a cigarette between his lips.

  Macy smirked. She’d heard all about those lips and what they were capable of, among other things. Hanging out with some of the ladies at the club gave her an inside scoop on Rourke and his oral abilities. He was obviously a favorite among the women. Funny thing about him, he wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, not like some of the other brothers. His face was lightly scarred, and he had a permanent scowl. He always seemed as if he wanted to rip someone’s ass apart. His eyes were dark brown, appearing almost black at times. And at six and a half feet, he was a giant. All muscle from what she could tell. A body so solid, running into him would probably be compared to crashing into a brick wall.

  She angled her head, getting a better view. There was something about him other than his outward persona. She had a strange unexplainable draw to him. If he was in a room, she knew it and spent the entire time stealing looks. Every once in a while, she’d catch his eyes on her. She didn’t have any disillusion his glances were from interest. She was just another set of tits and ass in the room. The few times she had tried to engage him in conversation, his responses were merely one-word answers. Men like Rourke weren’t interested in girls like Macy. She scoffed and ignored the piercing sting in her chest. According to the douche at the door, I have nothing he wants anyway.

  “Causing trouble, short stack?”

  Short and stacked, that’s me.

  She despised the pet name. However, it was impossible not to enjoy the attention from Gage. He was beyond gorgeous. Long blonde hair always tied back at his nape, blue eyes, and high cheekbones. Unlike Rourke, he was extremely friendly and flirty. He was also a favorite according to the women.

  Macy grinned, glancing back at the door and snorted. “I’m trying. He won’t let me in.”

  Gage came up to stand in front of her while Dobbs came up next to him. He openly checked her out head to toe. He was another good-looking brother, light-hearted, and according to Nadia, fantastic in bed. He wiggled his brows, which made her laugh. She didn’t make eye contact with Rourke, but she felt his stare.

  “Trax and Chey are up in Mallard tonight, they drove out about an hour ago. Kase sent him last minute. She didn’t tell ya?”

  Macy sighed. This was why charging her phone was important—to save face from moments like this. Not a doubt in her mind, on her dead phone was a message from Cheyenne. Fuck!

  “Right.” This sucked. It’s a good thing her ex wasn’t here to see this happening, he’d be laughing his ass off. “Well, then I’m gonna get going.” She had no exact plan except getting the hell out of there. The small diner on the corner would probably let her call an Uber.

  Gage lit a cigarette and took a drag. “You don’t wanna come in?”

  She eyed him then gazed over to Dobbs. Without Cheyenne? Could she? Should she? Coming there with Cheyenne was one thing but by herself? Who would she even hang out with? Other than a few of the women, she didn’t know anyone, and there was no doubt once the men started arriving, she would be forgotten by the girls.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” Gage teased. He jerked his head to the door. “You coming in or what?”

  She bit her lip.

  Dobbs stepped forward, crowding her space. “I’ll keep you company, Mace.”

  Her eyes darted to Dobbs. Scruffy dark hair and a goatee. Definitely older than her, maybe in his early thirties.

  “Fuck, Dobbs, don’t scare her away.” Gage pushed on the man’s shoulder and walked toward the door glancing back at Macy. “Come on, short stack, come play with the big kids.”

  If his last comment wasn’t a dig, she didn’t know what was. It was as though he’d overheard her break-up and was setting her up for a challenge.

  “Are you forgetting I tried? The guy won’t let me in, remember?” She raised her brows and twisted her lips. “Apparently, I got nothing you guys would want.” Saying it out loud caused her cheeks to heat. Why the hell was she advertising her insult?

  Gage pulled out his cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke in her direction. “He said that?”

  She snorted and forced a smile, trying to play off her embarrassment. “Among other things.”

  “Like what?” The snarl from her left jerked the playful smile from her lips. She slowly turned to face him.

  She gulped and may have shrunk in her stance from Rourke’s harsh expression. “Um, just …” She cleared her throat. “He knows what you guys like, and I’m not it.”

  It was odd to watch Rourke. He had a glare and scowl to begin with. Then something shifted, his lips tightened, and the small lines above his upper lip crinkled. His cheekbones became more pronounced and his jaw squared. She took a step back and veered her eyes to Gage.

  “Interesting.” Gage glanced up above her head to Rourke. He’d lost all the easiness of his features as his face hardened.

  There was a long awkward silence which had her shifting on her heels. She eyed Dobbs. He was also fixated on Rourke. She wo
uld have given just about anything to know what they were thinking. She was tempted to look over her shoulder at Rourke. She didn’t. Gage smiled and raised his brows, then his gaze dropped to her. He lifted his chin to the door.

  “Try again.”

  No way. One rejection was enough. “Ya know, I think I’m just gonna head home.”

  Gage was shaking his head with a smirk before she could even finish her sentence. She expected him to say something. The commanding voice came from behind her.

  “Knock again, Macy.”

  She immediately jerked her head and glanced up at Rourke, who was staring at her. It was the first time he’d ever said her name, and for some reason, her belly swirled, and her heart jumped to her throat. It rolled off his tongue in a soft tone.

  He jerked his chin to the door when she didn’t respond. Slowly, she turned and started toward the steps.

  Something wasn’t right here. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Gage and Rourke had a silent conversation regarding her coming into the clubhouse. She walked up the steps. Gage banged on the door and stepped to the side. He yanked on Dobbs who fell in line next to him. She resisted the urge to look back at Rourke. She could sense he was getting closer, and he shifted to the opposite side of the door. She glanced up, and his eyes were locked on hers.

  Most people would avoid eye contact. It’s what she should have done. Instead, she stared back. Her lips formed an awkward shaky smile. She probably looked like a manic idiot. Her smile was not returned, but his usual glare softened. Her heart pounded hard against her chest.

  Rourke wasn’t the ideal dream man, but for Macy, he’d taken up plenty of space in her head. People respected him, and while it may have stemmed from fear, Macy could appreciate a man who commanded respect. There was something sexy about the quietly dangerous element he suggested. She’d been intrigued since the day she met him, and every encounter after. His hard demeanor and abrupt, standoffish attitude had been different from most people she interacted with in her life. It should have been a turnoff. It wasn’t. She found herself wondering what made him the way he was and what made Rourke tick. She shook her head, casting the thought to the back of her mind, Too deep.