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The Outlaw Sons: mercenary, dangerous and drop dead sexy.

This is the second book in the Property of Outlaw Sons MC series, but don’t worry if you missed the first book, since they’re all standalone, but in the same story universe.

Savage, Crank and Poe, three rugged, dangerous and downright sinfully sexy members of the Outlaw Sons MC, are hunting a bounty contract for a runaway. But when they find her, Paige is nothing like what they expected, and the more they learn, the more obvious it is that she’s the real victim in the situation. They’re not supposed to fall for their target, but how can they not, when she’s exactly the kind of woman that gets their motors running. The hunted becomes the hunter, and with her bikers now working to keep her safe instead of bringing her in, she might finally have a fighting chance!

If you like delicious spice, wild action, and absolute devotion from three of the deadliest, panty-meltingest rogues you’ll ever find, then why not give Outlaws� Runaway a read?

The Outlaw Sons exist in the same world as the Screaming Eagles, so if you’ve read those books, you might notice a little reference here and there, but Outlaws� Property is fully standalone, and written so that there is no need to know about anything else to fully enjoy the story and characters.

How about a little introduction to the boys?


Paige

The front door chimes, so I grab a stack of menus and turn to the door.

And stop dead in my tracks.

Wow.

Dark, mossy pupils with jade flecks widen when the biker sees me, like he's spotted something he likes, but his expression gives nothing away. My pulse spikes immediately, adrenaline surging while my two working brain cells spin out of control on the hamster wheel in my skull. His short hair is thick and dark, with just a hint of red in it. A closely trimmed beard traces the outline of his defined jaw. He's built strong, his black T-shirt clinging to him in all the right places underneath his biker vest. Dark tattoos snake up his bare, muscled arms, and narrow hips give him that perfect upside down V-shape of someone who works his body hard.

I wet my bone dry lips, swallowing thickly as I try to remember what I’m supposed to be doing.

He rakes that emerald gaze from my face, all the way down to my feet and right back up. If he was a book, his cover would say: ‘Content warning: do not read in public�. And I get the feeling he isn’t even trying. Just by existing, he’s making me wonder if I should forget all my troubles and go for a ride.

“U³ó…â¶Ä�

He grins. “Got room for three?�

Oh right. This is planet earth. I'm at work. Just not doing a very good job of it. I don't trust my voice to come out as more than a squeak, so I nod and gesture towards a booth by the window.

“Table, if you don’t mind.� He plucks a menu out of my hand and heads towards an empty spot.

Once he looks away, my heartbeat settles for a moment.

And then speeds right back up.

Two more men walk in, wearing the same kind of leather vest. The first is a giant, with a thick beard and a shaved head. Thick brows emphasize his deep blue eyes, and he grins when he sees me staring. I can’t look at him without wondering what it would be like to have those big, strong arms around me, and to rest my head on the center of his broad chest. Would it be smooth? Fuzzy? Covered in tattoos? He's pure bulk. His gray T-shirt is straining at the seams, and his jeans are so tight over his thighs that I can make out how his corded muscles move as he walks. He could take three of me and juggle us without breaking a sweat.

He reaches out and takes a menu from my frozen hand. Naked bodies writhe together in a colorful tattoo sleeve that starts at his left wrist and vanishes into his shirt. I can’t look away, shocked to see just about every sex position I can imagine and some I couldn't until just now. It's like a big knotwork puzzle, except it's all porn. Expertly drawn, but porn. My face glows hot, and I don't know if I'm embarrassed, scandalized, or just plain turned on.

“Thank you, honey.� He grins, and his smile is just as big and broad as the rest of him. Where the heck did these guys come from? We've had plenty of bikers through here in the few days I've been around, and some have been cute, but none have been like this.

I gesture the way his friend went, I guess in case he didn’t notice? Maybe they didn’t want a booth because he wouldn’t fit. Oh my God, my subconscious is obsessed. I shake my head to clear it.

The third biker cocks his head and watches me like he can hear every mortifying thought. His thick dark hair is long, hanging free on either side of his handsome face. He’s the youngest of the three, lean and strong with cheekbones that could cut glass. His full lips are way too sexy and kissable for his own good. At first glance, he doesn’t have the same
overwhelming aura of danger, but when our eyes meet, everything changes. His beauty transforms into a deadly trap. A beautiful panther, showing off soft fur and hoping I don’t notice the sharp teeth and blood-tipped claws until it’s too late. With only a whisper of a smile, he strips my clothes off one by one until I'm left naked and exposed to him.

I clutch the last menu to my chest like I can hide behind it.

“Easy. We don't bite. Much.� He runs a finger over the back of my hand and takes the menu, sliding it from my numb grasp. His arms are bare, but there’s a hint of a black tattoo peeking out from his t-shirt collar and running up his neck.

I’m a strong, independent woman, raised to stand up for myself and not shrink away and hide. If Mom was here, she would laugh and say, “Pull yourself together, Paige. Feed them enough beans and they’ll fart like the rest of us.� Now, she used to say that about people who thought they were better than us, not stupidly hot bikers, but I think the lesson still stands. People are people, no matter how good looking. And yet, here I am, struggling to get a word out.

He chuckles under his breath as he joins his friends. On the back of all three of their jackets is the same big skull logo with some machine parts crossed behind it, almost like a pirate flag, and in curved text over it reads, “Outlaw Sons.�

Oooooh, crap. These aren’t just hot guys with motorcycles. They’re bad news in tempting packages, even if my gut is telling me to roll over and let them pet my tummy.