Warped and Wobbling by Harley Grym

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Fallen Angels MC, 8

Running was supposed to save her.

Instead, Sierra finds herself stranded, hunted by the man who refuses to let her go. Broke, terrified, and carrying a secret that raises the stakes even higher, she takes a desperate chance on a rough biker named Piston and the Fallen Angels MC.

Eli “Piston” Boone wasn’t looking for trouble—or a woman with haunted eyes and nowhere left to run. But the moment Sierra takes his hand, protecting her becomes personal.

As danger closes in across lonely highways and frozen backroads, Piston will do whatever it takes to keep her safe… even if it means going to war.

Because some women need saving.

And some men were born to burn the world down for them.

 

Excerpt:

Piston nodded and stepped off the bike. He’d needed to piss for the last twenty minutes, so he hustled inside to take care of business. He was on his way back to his bike and had just stepped out the door when he heard a soft sniffle from a few feet away. A quick look revealed a young woman who looked maybe twenty huddled on the far side of a propane rental cage. She had her knees pulled up, her arms stacked on top and her face buried in her arms. Dark hair had been pulled back into a ragged braid that disappeared down her back.

“Hey, miss? Are you okay?” He kept his voice gentle, trying to keep from spooking her. Piston crouched on his heels so they would be eye to eye when she looked up. That was when he noticed she wore jeans, what looked like a sweatshirt, and thin canvas shoes.

“No. I’m not. I need to get out of here, but I don’t have any money.” Her voice was muffled since she didn’t look up as she spoke.

“Did you break down? I know a little bit about engines. Can I take a look?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t have a car. I don’t have anything. But I have to get out of here. He’ll come looking soon and I can’t be here when he does.”

Piston frowned. Something didn’t feel right here.

“Who you running from, sweetheart?” He shifted to sit flat on his ass, one knee cocked and a bent arm resting on top. This might take a minute, and he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. Especially since it was clear she was afraid of someone.

She mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t make that out. Let’s start with something a little easier. Can you tell me your name?”

“S-Sierra.”

“All right, Sierra, my name’s Piston. Nice to meet you.” He held out one hand in her direction, hoping she’d lift her head, even if she wouldn’t shake his hand.

Her head lifted slightly. Enough he could see he’d intrigued her but not enough to see her face.

“Piston? Isn’t that an engine part? Who would name you that?”

“My president. And yes, it’s an engine part.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned close as if he was going to share a secret. “If you’ll tell me what you’re running from, I’ll tell you my real name.” She didn’t lift her head farther, but she did speak.

“My boyfriend. Or rather my ex. It’s just that he doesn’t agree. He says he’s not letting me go.” Sierra paused. “But I can’t stay. I have nowhere to go, but I can’t stay here.” She hiccupped and he was afraid she was about to start crying again.

“Well, I happen to be passing through. But I’m headed across the border or I’d offer a ride.”

“Are you staying up there? Is that where you’re from?”

Piston shook his head. “We’re passing through. We’re from down near the Wyoming state line.” He watched her, wishing he could offer to take her back there, but he was the wrench for the trip, and he couldn’t leave his brothers without someone who could handle whatever popped up with their bikes, especially on a long trip like this. “If you had a passport I’d offer to take you along. We’ll be on the road for a while, and it would keep him from finding you.”

“But I do.” She lifted her head, looking at him face on for the first time and giving Piston his first look at her.

Piston clenched his teeth and fought to keep his thoughts off his face. Sierra’s right eye was swollen nearly shut and the dark purple, along with her split lip, told him it wasn’t some kind of allergic reaction. Someone had hit her. And more than once.

“Come meet my friends, see if you want to ride with us,” he said, pushing himself to his feet before holding one hand out toward her.

“Hey, Piston, what’s taking so long?” Diesel hollered from where most of the men were waiting next to their bikes still sitting at the pumps.

“On my way. Hold on a sec,” he called back before looking back at Sierra. “Let’s go meet them and see if you think we’re a better option than the fucker who did that to you.”

Sierra put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

“You have a purse? A backpack? Anything?” he asked.

Sierra shook her head.

“All I have is my wallet. It’s got my driver’s license, passport, and social security card. I don’t even have a debit card and less than ten dollars to my name.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Worry about whether you think you can trust us.” He led her toward the pumps and the rest of the group.

“Wait.” She stopped, stopping him.

“What?”

“You never told me your real name.”

“Oh,” he gave her a wry grin, “it’s Eli. Eli Boone. Ready?” He tilted his head and started moving again. Diesel would put up with a little delay, but he’d be cranky about it soon and he didn’t want Sierra to have that first impression.

Series:
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