The first time I kissed her, she slapped me. The second time, she drew my gun on me. The third time her lips met mine, she stole my bike.
They say karma is a bitch, and it appears mine is also five-foot-nothing and full of fire. My reputation as a ladies’ man precedes me, and that’s how I used to like it.
Kept people’s eyes away from the immoral things I do in the name of the club.
But when a stubborn woman with a mysterious past comes crashing into my life, I’m left second-guessing every past choice that painted me that way. She doesn’t trust men. I don’t trust her.
And the club? They want her gone.
