No Saint (Blood Legion MC Book 3) Read online

  NO SAINT

  BLOOD LEGION MC BOOK 3

  RIE WARREN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No Saint

  Copyright © 2019 by Rie Warren

  Excerpt from Chrome copyright © 2015 by Rie Warren

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations.

  https://www.riewarren.com

  Warren, Rie.

  No Saint / Rie Warren – 1st ed

  1.Contemporary Romance—Fiction. 2. Alpha Male—Fiction. 3. Crime Fiction—Fiction. 4. Erotica—Fiction. 5. Suspense—Fiction. 6. Thriller—Fiction. 7. Mystery, Thriller, & Suspense—Fiction. 8. Romantic Suspense—Fiction. 9. Dominant Male Romance Possessive—Fiction. 10. Enemies to Lovers Romance Kindle Unlimited—Fiction 11. Organized Crime—Fiction 12. Heist—Fiction 13. Action & Adventure—Fiction 14. Possessive Alpha Male Romance—Fiction 15. Dominant Biker Romance—Fiction 16. MC Romance—Fiction 17. Possessive MC Romance—Fiction 18. Dark Romance Enemy—Fiction 19. Dark Romance New Releases—Fiction 20. Dark Romance Prime Reading—Fiction I. Title

  ASIN:

  B07WC2JRCK

  Table of Contents

  NO SAINT

  Author Note & Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Keep reading for a sexy sample from Chrome, Carolina Bad Boys book 4 . . .

  Chapter One

  Also by Rie Warren

  Connect with Rie

  About Rie

  Author Note & Acknowledgments

  Hey gorgeous readers and MC lovers. I’m gonna repeat the same warning from both previous Blood Legion books. All books can be read as standalones, however there are some references to my previous novel, Storm, Bad Boys of X-Ops 3 where Blood Legion MC was first introduced.

  This book could contain potential triggers. If you’d like spoilers, just shoot me an email at [email protected].

  Also, I need to give huge thanks to my good friend and amazing writer Gemma Brocato! She lets me bounce a bunch of ideas off her, and has done the most yummy paperback formatting for this series. Much love as well to historical romance maven Joanne Wadsworth for adding her expertise with my ebook formatting.

  Final bits before we get started on this wild ride: I wrote the song lyrics in chapter Twenty-Three myself (it was hard! Don’t judge me). And the names of Mistress Bunny’s skincare line come c/o Alyce Dean, Shay Grauberger, Tara Smith, and Elizabeth Swain. They had me literally laughing my ass off but, to be honest, every single idea from my fabulous street team was too damn funny. Thanks ladies!

  Now, sit back, get that fan (or BOB) ready, and prepare to have your mind . . . blown.

  XOXO~

  Chapter One

  SAINT

  EVERYTHING HAD BEEN WAY too fucking quiet around Thunder Road. Since the hellish shit that brought sweet Mercy to Angel and the insane would-be politician had taken gross advantage of Grace, all had been calm.

  Too damn calm if you asked me.

  From January to the end of April . . . not a single hint of trouble or a single sign of danger.

  In fact, the only danger to me was the vibe I’d gotten off that singer babe Honoré at Angel and Mercy’s fais do-do. When I’d asked the stunning blonde to dance, she’d blown me off so hard I freakin’ wondered if I’d done her wrong in the past.

  But I knew I hadn’t. I wouldn’t forget a woman like her. Damn, but she could carry a tune, and when she sang—strumming her acoustic—she’d looked like she was in her own dream world. Nothing like the harpy who’d flat out turned me down on the most innocent invitation I’d ever offered.

  Her refusal to give me the time of day fucked with my head so much I couldn’t get her off my mind.

  And it sure as hell didn’t look like I was getting her on my dick anytime soon.

  So maybe I needed a little real trouble to forget about her, but nothing was doing.

  Nothing except a baby on the way for Grace and Slade. At least Killian Slade, that curt motherfucker, had lightened up since he found his woman. Hell, he even knew how to smile and laugh now.

  The entire past year had been a big frigging eye-opener. I’d learned a shit-ton about this MC that Revenge and I had patched into. Along with Angel—the prez—and Slade—the veep of the club—Angel’s half-brother Storm had destroyed the corrupt cunts who’d taken over Blood Legion and murdered Angel’s dad.

  Not only that, but this dude Storm worked with an entire band of top-secret operatives set up in D.C. I had a feeling they definitely didn’t do shit by the book either. Not after they’d helped Slade save Grace and swooped in to clean up the final neo-Nazi mess when we’d fucked up Mercy’s asshole kinfolk and rescued the women.

  Yup. Now everyone was becoming domesticated. Everyone except Revenge and me. We weren’t exactly the tame type. Not that I was looking to stir up some illegal shit, but I usually expected it. In a city like New Orleans and, for men like us, trouble was always just one wrong turn away.

  A few years ago, I’d gotten into a snafu with a rival biker gang back when I’d been part of Leather Devils MC. Just a little assault with a deadly weapon that had landed me in the slammer, and that was where I’d met Revenge. I didn’t even know what his real first name was—the guards only ever called him by his last name, Arsenault, and the inmates by Revenge. All I knew for sure was he didn’t seem to be about to give up his status as head pussy hound of Blood Legion MC.

  Getting sprung from the joint within days of each other, we decided to stick to the straight and narrow. We joined up with what was supposed to be a non-outlaw club. Except they weren’t as clean as they first appeared. For damn sure, Blood Legion definitely had an angel looking over us ’cause we’d gotten away with murder. Literally.

  In the presidential suite—my rooms above Thunder Road Bar now that Slade was playing house and almost-husband with Grace—I was just throwing a T-shirt over my head when someone pounded on my door.

  Then shouted, “Get a fucking move on. Time for church, Saint.”

  “Keep your damn panties on. I’m coming,” I slung back at Revenge.

  He popped his head inside the door. “That’s what the twins screamed last night.”

  “I heard.”

  “Hey. You were the one getting on Slade’s case about not getting his dick wet last fall. And now what the fuck is with you all of a sudden? Going for Monk of the Year?”

  In response, I grabbed my junk and smirked. “Decided to give my balls a break. You should try it sometime. Before you catch a dis
ease.”

  He snorted. “I ain’t slowing down until I’m married. And that’s never gonna happen.”

  From down below, Angel bellowed, “Where the hell is everyone?”

  “I thought he was supposed to come back from his honeymoon all mellow,” Revenge commented.

  “Horny-moon, you mean.”

  “Yeah that.”

  We stomped downstairs with Angel glaring at us.

  I grinned as I tossed my cell phone into the basket he held out.

  “You just love watching us toss it, don’t you, prez?” Revenge joked.

  “Gonna toss my fist down your throat one of these days, dude.” Angel might’ve had an innocent name like me, but he was no more an angel than I was a saint.

  Especially when he inevitably cocked and fired his shotgun into the wall of our most sacred room to get the meeting called to order once Lennox, Revenge, Slade, and I took our seats. The five of us made up Blood Legion’s officers—in addition to our prez and veep, I was the treasurer, Lennox the secretary, and Revenge the tail gunner.

  “First order of business . . .” Angel took out a wooden box, lifted the lid, and passed cigars around the table carved with the Blood Legion emblem.

  “Sweet.” I sniffed the rich aroma of the Cuban.

  “Not to be smoked until Grace has her baby, and Slade becomes a father,” Angel added.

  All eyes swung to Slade who seemed a little choked up. “But I’m not really the dad.”

  I’d never known the man to show any sign of trepidation but now the former Marine looked downright unsure.

  He’d spent frigging months hunting down Grace who at that time he’d never even met. He’d taken it upon himself to be her one-man-savior. Hell, he’d beaten Roark Finnegan—Grace’s captor and the man who’d forcibly impregnated her—to within an inch of his life. By some miracle the asshole had survived only to be put in prison where true scum like him deserved to be.

  You know, not like me and Revenge who’d been sprung.

  Then Slade had made a life with Grace, bought a house down the road, done it up good, and prepared everything for the arrival of the baby.

  Revenge frowned heavily. “That’s bullshit, man. You’re the only dad that baby’s gonna know.”

  Revenge had wicked tender feelings for Grace. Had ever since she’d arrived at the bar one day all shaken up and looking for help.

  “Yeah. Maybe,” Slade slowly pocketed his cigar.

  “So, you gonna ask Grace to marry you or what?” Lennox, who generally spoke even less than Slade, asked the question on everyone’s mind.

  “No shit, man.” I leaned both elbows on the table. “I mean’s she’s due in what? Like less than a month?”

  Slade looked slightly queasy. He rubbed the back of his neck and then busied himself rolling a cigarette.

  After he lit the smoke, he muttered, “Kind of already didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” Angel prodded him.

  “Ask her to marry me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Slade.” Revenge rocked back in his chair. “Can’t you for once just speak normally?”

  “I sort of felt her out about marriage the night Angel and Mercy got hitched, and she said she wouldn’t say no.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I asked.

  Slade’s deadly blue eyes slid to me. “You ever asked a beautiful amazing woman to marry you?”

  Well . . . no.

  But a fucking blind man could tell they were in love. Didn’t matter how they’d met. Or the danger they’d survived.

  With a long exhale of smoke, Slade said, “I vote we table this discussion.”

  “Hopeless,” Revenge mumbled.

  “I don’t need you assholes giving me advice on women.” The broody veep beetled his brows together.

  “Somebody better get y’all to church. A real one. So you can tie the knot. For fuck’s sake.” That was Angel.

  He was met by Slade’s silence and an even longer glower.

  “Whatever. Fine. Just so you know though, Grace and Mercy are already planning your wedding.” As Slade’s eyes popped wide, Angel carried on as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “Next order of biz . . . think it’s time to patch Chase through as a full member?”

  I reared back in my chair, laughing my ass off until tears leaked down my face.

  I was so busy chuckling, I couldn’t even vote.

  Revenge snickered next to me. “Hell no to that. Who am I gonna get to clean my room for me if we don’t have the probie to order around?

  I settled down enough to add, “We still don’t even know if he’s gotten his V-card stamped.”

  “I just got the boy trained enough to do my laundry.” Lennox joined in with a whopper.

  Slade angled a grin down the table. “Hard pass. The kid still needs more time in MC boot camp, far as I’m concerned.”

  Angel smirked because when it came right down to it, we could be a bunch of dicks.

  Plus, it was just too much fun ripping on the prospect.

  I almost wished we’d let him attend this meeting just so we could enjoy his reaction. He always got red up to his ears. He could curse with the best of us too. And he was never shy about slamming us back no matter how many times we ragged him.

  He wasn’t a bad kid at all. Loyal as could be. Ready and willing to fight for the cause, whatever it might be. Did all the shit work like cleaning the johns and washing the bar glasses.

  But unfortunately for him, we enjoyed screwing with him way too much to let him patch through.

  Church ended, we filed out, grabbed our phones, and headed into the bar.

  It was midday, midweek, and we never opened until nighttime, but there were still a few folks ambling around. Other Blood Legion members taking a noon break and grabbing a beer. Of course, the place wasn’t half as crowded as during opening hours what with the fame we’d gained among the hipster crew in the lively nightlife area.

  Between the Man Buns and their hangers-on and the way they promoted the bar on their social media shit, Thunder Road just about busted apart at the walls with customers on a nightly basis. They didn’t come for frou-frou drinks or pretty surrounds—although the courtyard was pretty damn sweet. They didn’t keep coming back for slick décor or fancy eats. The hipsters had witnessed some of the worst moments in our MC history . . . like the time the neo-Nazis had attacked our bar. And Slade had blown up one of their pickups.

  Those fools respected our truth. They lived for the real ambiance. And they weren’t afraid to drop a fat load of cash to make sure we stayed open.

  Had to give them props for their loyalty too.

  Angel sauntered up to the bar where Chase was busy installing a new keg.

  “Sorry, probie. I fought for you in there.” The prez slapped our prospect on the shoulder.

  “He so didn’t.” I ratted Angel out. “That vote went dooowwn big time.”

  “Goddammit.” Chase snapped a towel against the bar top. “What I gotta do around here to make full member?”

  “Hit puberty?” That was Revenge, per usual.

  “Kiss my ass a little more?” Angel added with a smirk.

  I just shrugged, because this was pure entertainment.

  Ooooh, there was Chase’s face all lit up like a Christmas tree. He stomped out of the bar, and then the back door slammed. Hard.

  We fell all over ourselves laughing.

  Everyone still distracted by the prospect’s hissy fit, I slid over to Lennox.

  “You okay at Tit for Tat for a couple hours if I take off?”

  “Sure. You got someplace to be?”

  I just shrugged and left the building. With Lennox up for manning the club’s tattoo parlor, I could escape unnoticed.

  Unnoticed except for Sol, who stood on the sidewalk shoving trays of ribs into his makeshift grill. The old black man with the white, white hair fed all the locals, whether they had money to pay or not. Hell, he fed the whole MC more often than not.

 
Solomon was a Blood Legion legend. He’d been around since the time Angel’s dad had founded the club. Word was, Sol knew the MC inside and out, and he’d stuck in during the most horrific times, lending a hand and even his gun skills.

  Now he looked up at me from handling racks of meat and murmured, “I knows what you be hankerin’ for, and it ain’t these ribs I’m cookin’ up. Nossir.”

  The other thing about Sol? He just knew things with his Creole juju magic, but I didn’t want to think about it.

  I pressed a finger to my lips, and he winked back.

  He’d kept many a secret, the biggest one about Slade and Grace. Slade had found her months before he’d ever let on to the rest of us because of her dire situation.

  Stalking past my vintage Harley chopper, I took to the streets on foot.

  My feet knew where they were headed even if I didn’t want to fully admit it to myself.

  I knew the exact corner, my destination. Mercy had told me.

  It took me longer than it should’ve to walk there. I stopped at a bar and downed a beer. I stopped at a flower cart, considered buying a bouquet, and questioned my sanity. I stopped altogether and thought about turning back.

  But a force beyond me compelled me onward.

  Two blocks later, and there she was.

  Honoré.

  The street busker.

  My chanteuse.

  I didn’t know exactly when I’d started thinking about her as mine. But goddamn, my mouth all but dried up at the sight of her again. And my palms started sweating.

  She wasn’t a voluptuous bombshell.

  She hadn’t even been nice to me.

  She still damn mesmerized me.

  Maybe it was her feisty spirit. In other words, she’d been downright curt with me, and I’d be a dumb fuck if I didn’t expect more of the same treatment.

  Could’ve been her slim almost ethereal beauty, even though there was something definitely hard-edged about her.

  It might’ve been the tantalizing lace-like tats on her hands that set her apart. Or her hair that was so blonde it looked like starlight—all done up in braids as she sat on her stool and swayed along to a tune she played on the complicated squeezebox.