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Boomer (A Steele Riders MC Book 1)
 

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Boomer (A Steele Riders MC Book 1)


  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Boomer

  A Steele Riders MC Series

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2018

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Copyrighted © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: C.M. Steele

  Cover Image: Deposit Photos

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.

  This book is intended for mature adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Adult Erotic Romance.

  As the President of the Steele Riders Motorcycle Club, Garrett “Boomer” Steele is used to people following his command. No questions asked. As a former military man, he is dedicated, focused, and disciplined. Then in walks a fiery little beauty and all that goes out the window. He will do all he can to keep her as his. Even go to war to protect everything that belongs to him.

  Crystal Miller’s just being the friend that Morgan needs when she runs into a bare-chested Boomer. He’s cocky, loving, and bossy as hell. Even though she’s one tough woman, she loves the way he needs to shield her from danger. And there’s plenty of it.

  When trouble comes calling, can they stand together and survive, or will a big secret tear them apart?

  Prologue

  Boomer

  5 years earlier

  I dust off my pants after getting out of my work truck. Don’t know why because I’m about to get a lot messier. I suppose it’s because normally I have to meet with clients. This time, I am the client.

  “Boomer, this looks like a fucking ghost town. Bro, we have our work cut out for us,” my younger brother, Jackson says, tipping his sunglasses down to examine the spread of Main Street.

  “Think of it this way, next week it’ll be a blank canvas.” I plan to demo the whole small town. According to the appraisers, this place wasn’t worth the ten grand I paid for it unless I wanted to turn it into a huge farmland or factory. I want this to be a place that’s perfect for us old retired soldiers to live. I might be exaggerating since I’m just twenty-five, but I’ve lived a lot in the past eight years. It’s been a roller coaster so far and now it’s time to plant some roots.

  “I guess you’ve got a point there. Let’s check it out so I can draw up some blueprints for you to approve.” My brother is now a hotshot architect with his own firm in Dallas. At twenty-three he’s making a name for himself and doing it with a smile.

  Last week, I purchased this land for investment. Initially, I’d been looking to start building a home, but this peaked my interest. In the long run, it would cost quite a bit more than the ten stacks I paid for it, but then again, it could be a lot more profitable. Either way, it’s all mine. I built my construction company with my Special Forces money, now I’m reinvesting it into my town.

  “Now that I’m looking at it, bro, there’s a lot of potential.” He brought a legal pad on a leather-bound clipboard, all fancy like, to take notes. I don’t know what he’s thinking up in that brilliant head of his, but I’m sure it will be fantastic.

  “I want it to have that old town feel with all the modern upgrades.”

  “Gotcha.” He lowers his head and jots down a few more notes. The Texas heat is testing us this morning. We both decided jeans and tees with our flannels would be the best today, but it was getting hot quick. I watch him make notes wondering if he’s been lifting more lately. My brother doesn’t seem like an architect when he’s not in his three-piece suits, but instead as if he’s the one jackhammering the concrete. It’s what I do for a living, so my build is pretty standard.

  “Jackson, have you been lifting more?”

  “Yep, it helps me think.”

  “Don’t think too much or your brain will be your weakest muscle soon. I was starting to wonder if you put yourself up for the Strongman competition.”

  “Fuck off. I’m not a gym rat,” he exclaims, returning to his notes. He isn’t that big, but more than I remember him being. Maybe those suit slim you down. I walk to the buildings, each already inspected and marked. We have a storm coming in tomorrow and I’ve decided to hold off on the demoing until next week. I’ve cleared most of my crew to work on this project and I’m hoping to have the first businesses up and running come spring. We’re about sixty miles south of Dallas and after we get established, I expect to find a growing population.

  “Have you talked with any city project managers? There’s an integral amount of planning involved.”

  “Yes. Once you give me your blueprints, I’ll contact the company for the electrical grid and get t
he ball rolling. It’s going to cost a fortune to get the basics running, but I’m sure once we get that set, the other plans will fall into place.”

  “Okay, I’m just saying you’re under the county guidelines until everything else can be implemented. You might as well get some help from them. They would love to have a greater tax generating place filling their coffers.”

  “I bet. I know we’re going to need a set of houses built, a five-floor apartment building, a grocery store, and gas station to start. I want everything up and running before we populate it.”

  “What are the odds on the name, Boomer?” he asks, looking at the old general store sign. Steeleville General Store.

  “That’s why I picked it. No need for a name change.”

  “Since this used to be an old steel mill town, there’s a large factory building I had inspected. It’s on the edge of the land and sound. I was thinking that’s where our club will be.”

  “Fuck yeah, let’s check it out. I’ll question you on the way there about the rest.”

  “Sure thing, bro,” I answer, walking back to my air-conditioned truck. The drive is short since the land is just under ten square miles, so he won’t get to ask many questions.

  “Do you know how much is going to be used for farming?”

  “That’s still up in the air. I can start with two hundred acres and if they need more, I’m sure that’ll be no problem.”

  “Most of this area was never really developed. There are a couple dozen rowhouses I’m assuming for the steelworkers, but that’s about it. So, what happened to the town? Why are you sure it’s financially viable?”

  “The steel mill went out of business due to some shady dealings. Then a small fire was set but didn’t develop because the person didn’t take all the factors into account. It, of course, was later ruled as suspicious. The town’s sole focus was the mill. Now we’ll have several ways to make this place boom.”

  “If anyone can make something from nothing then turn it to gold, it’s you.”

  “Same to you, Jackson. We’re here,” I say, pulling into a large gated parking lot that’s seen better days. The lot wasn’t paved, just a shitload of gravel, so there were patches of weeds growing through it. And to the very back stands the old factory. It’s two floors of fortified steel. This makes it the perfect place to have our motorcycle club.

  “The guys are going to flip when they see it all done. You did good, bro.” Jackson and I unofficially started a club with some of my boys from Special Forces. We called it the Steele Riders. Whenever we’d have a leave, we’d head out on our bikes. Although Jackson had never been in the service, he rode with us all the time. The nine of us became like brothers. Most were still in the service. Having received a non-life-threatening injury, I retired.

  We take a quick look around, letting Jackson get a feel for my ideas. I think this place has so much potential and from the constant smile on his face, I know he’s seeing it.

  "I can't wait to get started,” he cheers, smiling at me like a little boy.

  I nod because we’re going to make our dreams of more come true. "Me either. Let's head out and grab a bite back in Dallas so we get some of those plans underway."

  "Good deal, Boomer."

  Chapter 1

  Boomer

  Present Day

  "Hey guys, we're gone for the night," Demi says. "It looks great as always," she adds, talking about my new tattoo that Mick is putting the final touches on.

  "Thanks," I mutter with my head resting on a pillow as he does part of my flank. "Make sure to lock up, lass," Mick hollers, while still buzzing away on me.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she throws out from the front. Rico, one of our men and her brother walks her to her car. He's got some business back in Dallas as an ATF agent. He's a bad ass like all my men, but we keep him out of anything illegal since he's a narc. He and Law keep their hands clean, but they know we're not quite legal. We haven't killed anyone since being out of the service, but we did put a couple people in the hospital for disrespecting the town and women. But if the time came to end someone I wouldn’t hesitate.

  “Women,” we both grumble at the same time. My little sister is living in town with me and I want to send her snarky bottom back to Dallas. I tense, thinking about what she’s up to.

  I try to relax so Mick can finish. I’m at his shop, Dirty Mick’s Tats. He’s one of my lieutenants and a good friend. He’s got skills like no one else in the business. With his ginger hair and deep green eyes, we call him the dirty Mick. His real name is Ewan McMann. He’s even got a wee bit of an accent since moving here as a child from Ireland. He’s our translator when Conor McGregor comes on. Mick loves that cocky Irishman. I think he’s pretty bad ass myself, but all my men are just as tough. No one belonging to the Steele Riders is a pussy. We ride hard and take shit from no one.

  He's working when he mutters, “Some lasses are at the door, but Demi’s gone for the day.” He tips his head to the security monitor, then continues with the shading in on the tat. “They should have been here ten minutes ago. The shop’s closed for the night.”

  “Shit, fuck em. Don’t let them in,” I toss out, relaxing on the bed, letting him finish. “I don’t know what’s with you and not tatting females, but the shop is closed anyway.”

  “They bitch and squeal too much. Then again, some men are big arse crybabies, too.” We both laugh, but I don’t think that’s it. Mick hasn’t tatted a woman since he moved here about a year ago. He’s the only shop in this small but growing and booming town. That’s why he hired Demi. She takes care of the small population of females.

  The doorbell buzzes again. I look up at the screen as he wipes off the last bit of ink. It's my sister. What the fuck is she doing here? It’s late, and she’s wearing something too damn short. Texas or not, her ass knows I don’t appreciate her walking around dressed like that.

  My men are going to start tailing her if she can’t act right. More and more people have been moving into my town over the past six months. Our population is almost large enough for self-governing. Right now, we abide by county rules and our own. We have a sheriff and a few deputies, but as it picks up we’ll add to it. With more people comes more trouble.

  I know Morgan’s got a habit of fucking up lately, but this is going to set me off. A week into college she dropped out. She returned here, talking back to me and staying in her apartment. I told her ass that slacking off wasn't acceptable, so she got her old job back at the grocery store. She doesn’t need the money because I’m here for her, but I want her to learn responsibility. I don’t know what’s with her, but she’s been different and hiding away. I wish we had our parents to help me with her. I wanted her to find something she could love, but how was she supposed to when she spent her time hiding away?

  “What’s your sister doing here?” he asks like I have a damn clue.

  I lean over and buzz her in, causing her to stumble through the door. It's then that I spot a small woman behind her. She can't be more than five feet. I snarl at Mick, "Clean me up. I've got to deal with my sister.”

  He chuckles and I’m ready to pop him in the fucking mouth. "Chill, Pres, it's not a crime to come in here." I cock a brow at him, letting him know that defending her wouldn’t be good at the moment. I need to call Jackson on this one. He’s off on business for the next two months, but at least he can talk to her. I can kill a motherfucker with my bare hands, but I can’t get an eighteen-year-old to fucking listen to me.

  "It's ten at night and she's fucking shit faced." I'm getting more pissed by the second especially at seeing Morgan's new bestie, Crystal. It has to be her because Morgan doesn’t talk to other women here. She says it’s because everyone wants me and looks for a way in through her.

  She met Crystal in college, but their friendship is over now. Something about the little thing with tiger-shaped eyes is throwing me off. My dick springs to life in the most fucked up moment. I can't have that. She's probably barely legal. I’m well
on my way to losing my mind. Mick finishes in a rush. I jump up and walk out before him. I need to straighten both the women out. I don’t even give a fuck that I’m shirtless.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Morgan?” I scold, my hand clenching at my sides. Looking at my unsteady sister, I grab her shoulders and move her to one of the waiting area chairs. She falls easily to the seat because she can barely stand.

  “My sweet friend wants a tat. So, we figured nobody better than Mickey here,” she slurs, pointing at my sexy little thing. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I lose my shit.

  “It’s Mick,” I tell her. Morgan’s got a bad attitude. I turn to her friend who’s staring at my chest, boldly running her eyes up and down my body. Fuck, I never felt eye-fucked before, but I believe this little fiery miss managed to screw me with just her gaze. “I’m Garrett Steele.”

  “We call him Boomer,” Morgan giggles out, completely drunk. “Cause he likes to blow shit up. Boom!” She pops her hands up in the air to mimic an explosion. She’s totally going to regret this tomorrow.

  “I’m Crystal,” my little beauty murmurs. She’s fucking stunning. Those lips are plump like all the curves on her.

  “I know,” I grumble.

  “How?” she asks, arching those perfectly sculpted brows.

  “You’re not someone I could forget.”

  “Ooh, Boomer is going bonkers for my bestie,” Morgan pipes in.

  “Be quiet. You’re in enough trouble and so is the person who gave you the booze.”

  “Don’t be an ass to her, Gare. She’s not the one who did it,” Morgan argues. I don’t care. She’s drunk; they both are, and anyone could take advantage of them.

  “Oh please. Like you never drank at eighteen. I’m sure you were living it up,” Crystal says, tossing me an accusing glare. Damn, that mouth is going to get her into trouble. She stepped into a trap she won’t be able to wiggle out of. I grasp her chin, rougher than necessary, and she pulls away, unafraid. She should be because I can see that look in her eyes. It’s the one that has her eager to jump on my dick. Fuck, I’ll break her tiny body in two. Shit, the more I look at her the more I like. Her tits are full and popping out of her black tank top. I return the appraisal, intentionally staring at her pussy. I can see her thighs clench just enough to tell me she’s getting wet. It only makes me angrier. She’s too fucking young for me and the way she’s walking around I’m sure there’s a fucking army of dicks looking to fill my spot.

 
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