I have run freight for the Hellroaring MC for eighteen years and I have never once been stopped.
Six hundred miles of Hi-Line. Four crossings nobody sits on. Every load moved under a carrier authority that has kept this club breathing since before I took the route over.
Then I turned a renewal page over and found a signature on the back of it.
Hers.
The woman at the feed store who names her truck and sticks gold stars on invoices like I am nine years old.
Delaney Cobb has been federally liable for nine hundred and forty-one loads she knows nothing about, and there is a man on the Canadian side sitting on the paper that proves it.
He wants something hauled south that I will die before I put on a trailer.
So we go take it back. One truck, one run north, and a story that has to hold up at the booth. Married. Hauling together. Nothing worth a second look.
She wears my property cut. She sleeps in the one bed the clerk gives us outside Medicine Hat. She smiles at me across a diner table like I am a decent man, and I let her, because the version of me that corrects her ends this.
Six days. Then she hands the cut back, goes home to her feed store, and I go back to the cold.
That was the arrangement.
I have never broken my word about anything in my life, and I am going to break this one.
Book 2 of the Hellroaring MC. Dark, gritty, open door MC romance with a fake marriage that quits being fake somewhere north of the line, a one bed motel, and a road captain who has controlled every variable of his life for eighteen years and hands her every one of them.
Standalone with a guaranteed HEA. No cheating, no cliffhangers.
