Condemned and Chosen (Sins of Wolves: The Safe Mountain Series)

  Condemned and Chosen

  Destiny Blaine and Marc Alice

  Condemned and Chosen

  Copyright © 2014

  Published by Dark Hollows Press

  About the eBook You Have Purchased

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. 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're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, is forbidden. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Condemned and Chosen

  Copyright © 2014 Destiny Blaine, Marc Alice

  Cover Art by Michelle Williams

  Photography by David Huntley Creative, Shutterstock

  ISBN 10: 1940756200

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940756-20-2

  Original Publication Date: January 2014

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Dark Hollows Press

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Prologue

  There’s an old sayin’ around these parts about bikes. Some folks, die hard bikers that is, say motorcycles don’t leak oil, they just mark their territory. In Sevier County, that was a common belief before the Great Age of Innocence began, before corrupt leaders took over the country with promises of much needed reform, the kind of political pitches that made a person stand up and pay attention.

  Those oaths were a pack of lies all tied up in pretty little bows, kind of like those satin ribbons unsuspecting mothers braided into their daughters’ hair on their seventeenth birthday, the very day most young women were confirmed.

  Time changes the definition behind simple words, just as it alters the meaning behind once-significant phrases and quotes.

  The bikes roaring through town aren’t there to mark their territory. They speed through a city so quickly, they don’t have time to leave behind evidence that they’ve even been there.

  They roll into town and arrive there to save young ladies from powerful men who intend to sell a young virgin’s purity status at auction. They’re appealing to the highest bidder who will then transport the women overseas to begin their lives as members of a very lucrative sex trade.

  Once those barely legal girls leave the country, they’re treated as animals, mere stock in an absolute sale.

  When the MC rides through the streets with purpose, they enter small town America with one lone mission.

  They’re not there to protect or guard. They’re there to search and rescue.

  They’re looking for the confirmed. They want the condemned, the chosen.

  And when they find them, they steal away with the most precious of gifts, innocent women they fully intend to claim.

  Chapter One

  “I’m not one of those daughters who will try to take away the burden of guilt. Dad knew they’d come for me. He knew and yet he did nothing. Same as yours.” Molly McPherson crossed her arms and glared at the youngest as if she were trying to place her in some sort of trance.

  “Course I was married by the time the MC captured me, but the honeymoon hadn’t been consummated. Call us lucky. I’m here today because I didn’t fuck the old man who promised to watch over me.” She fluttered her tongue at the women. “Don’t worry. I’m still experienced where it matters.”

  Instinctively, Natasha inched closer to her older sister. Brittany draped a protective arm around her sibling and dragged her to the first step leading to the long country-style porch spread across the multi-level log home.

  “Leave her alone, Molly or I’ll have a word with Max and he’ll speak to Chuck.”

  Molly laughed. “Oh please, Brittany. You think I’m afraid of them? Besides, they’ll listen to my side of the story, see the dime-sized tears in my eyes, and decide it was all a big misunderstanding.”

  Romy, a childhood friend of the Marshall sisters, observed from a safe distance, hating the way Molly intimidated her friends and wondering why the pack had left her behind on that particular day. Didn’t the guys know how she behaved when they went away? Didn’t they realize Molly took her status as the first captured and saved innocent to the extreme?

  “Innocent my ass,” Romy muttered, marching forward with every intention of putting a stop to Molly’s tactics before she frightened Natasha. Relatively new to Safe Mountain, the poor thing still believed her father was out there somewhere, trying to find her, desperate to reach her.

  What Natasha probably didn’t realize is that her father, a lawman with inside information about the human trafficking organizations, had made a decision to send her there. The Sevier County sheriff had known, just as her own father had known. The only hope any of them had was found in the protection provided by the Sins of Wolves motorcycle gang.

  The roar of Harleys rumbled in the mountains. The guys were still a few minutes out and it would be at least another four or five before the first sleek machine would top the hill.

  “Got something on your mind, child?” Molly lit a cigarette and propped her hips against the leather seat of some hard-ass motherfucker’s bike. Convinced Molly only slept with brutes who could handle her, Romy wondered if that was why the bitch had attitude. Maybe one of the fellows roughed her up every now and again.

  Bitch would sure deserve it if she caught a few backhands…or spankings.

  Romy’s nipples drew as tight as hard buds. It was as if someone had clamped down on them with pinching fingers. Taken aback, she stopped in her tracks and stared at Molly.

  The young blonde took a long drag off her cigarette. Her cold blue gaze raked over Romy as if she were taking her own sweet time combing over her body with razor-sharp intensity strong enough to strip the clothes straight from her body.

  Molly moistened her full lips. “Now what, sugar?” She threw down her cigarette and used the toe of her high heel shoe to crush out the butt and smother the remains. Striking a pose, she cocked her hip to the side, rested her palm in the curve of her waist, and fluttered her eyelashes. “You gonna tell me to play nice with your little friend?”

  Romy wasn’t exactly confrontational, but she wasn’t the kind of person who could be trampled over either. She’d been with the Sins of Wolves for nearly three months. It had been the coldest and longest of winters, and part of the reason was the unknown. She wasn’t scared of the MC or any of its members. The fear-factor awaited them beyond Safe Mountain’s gates.

  Still, Molly presented a danger and Romy had heard the rumors. She’d even been in Townsend the day the MC went on a door-to-door search for Tabitha Mellancamp. It was the only time the MC had missed their mark. Tabitha had been taken the night before thanks to someone giving up her location.

  Locals
had fingered Molly for the misfortune. Either way, Tabitha Mellancamp was the first Southern girl transported to the East Coast Slave Distribution Center. The Great Age of Innocence armies had bombarded her family’s home and snatched her from her bed while she lay sleeping.

  The motorcycle club had earned quite the reputation soon after they missed their first intended mark. Several women had been saved right after the Mellancamp situation. Now best known for harboring young and innocent women, the riders showed up at night or smack dab in the middle of broad daylight.

  The time didn’t matter. The significance of their presence marked another drawn name, another young woman doomed for darkness. For whatever reason, the Sins of Wolves had been able to save more young women in the South than any other renegade group in the country.

  Some said they were tough; smart, but Romy’s father had taken the time to cover a lot of territory prior to her departure from the old world. He’d told of his suspicions and encouraged her to pay attention. He’d said “befriend the women but never trust them.”

  The MC stood as a collective symbol of strength, but one woman could bring them down.

  Her father believed the MC gained their knowledge through female companions, women who would turn on them in an instant if something didn’t go their way.

  Still, the riders were tough rebels, real rogues. Draped in weapons, their long hair shot straight down their backs. Most of them sported bulging muscles that rippled under their leather pants or bulged around cuffed half-sleeves, but their physical strength didn’t give them their advantage plays. Romy’s dad believed the MC worked with a secret society of sorts, a network of young ladies who made it their business to find out which young woman was marked for transport.

  And he had a theory.

  Those same women who helped some escape the governor’s wrath would one day cut their ties in order to score the deals that would save their lives.

  “You just gonna stand there with your eyes watering and your tongue hanging out or did you walk all the way over here to give me a piece of your...” Molly dragged a slow hand between the fullness of her voluptuous breasts. “Mind?”

  “Get over yourself, Molly.” Brittany thrust her arm behind her when Romy took another step in Molly’s direction. Placing her hand on Romy’s hip, she quickly added, “Don’t pay attention to her. You’ll only stroke her ego.” She glared at Molly once more. “Leave them both alone.”

  “And if I don’t? What are you going to do, Brittany Marshall? Up here in these mountains, your daddy isn’t king.”

  “My father is the only reason we’re not halfway across the Indian Ocean by now.”

  “Is that right?” Molly smirked. “A hero, is he?”

  Yes he is. You’d better thank your lucky stars that he made nice with the MC. When you have a minute, you should pray to God. Then, you should silently thank my father because he not only saved those who needed saving, he looked out for those here who were destined to become notorious tramps, too.”

  “Why you little bitch!” Molly jumped off the bike and rushed her.

  Brittany stood her ground and squared her shoulders as the vroom of the bikes topped the ridge and bounded over the last hurdle, the final hill topping the crest where the clubhouse perched. Romy released a hearty sigh and wished she could take it back as the hot air fell from her lungs and painted the cold air with a frosty breath.

  “Scared were you?” Molly laughed.

  A stroke of bravery or perhaps just downright mischief provoked Romy’s actions. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted by Molly, grabbing Natasha’s hand in passing.

  “Come on, Nat. The guys are probably hungry.” She stopped then, convinced the devil made her do it. “And from what I understand, they have quite an appetite after a ride, but they rarely like to eat from a dish that’s already been passed around.”

  Chapter Two

  Molly wanted to fuck Romy. She wanted to lay her down and just screw her senseless.

  She’d ride her with her fingers or tongue. It didn’t make a damn to her, but one way or another, she’d have her. She’d have Romy Nichole Hanson if she had to blackmail the club to get her.

  Sucking in a ragged breath, Molly shook out her hair and stood a little taller before she fell in behind the guys, following the MC inside the clubhouse. Laurel had spent the better part of the day in the kitchen and a waft of home cooking filled the main hall.

  Laurel, also known as Mama, had her faults, but when it came to whipping up a good meal, no one could top her Southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade biscuits, and fresh baked pies.

  Older than the rescued gals, Laurel was in her mid-to-late thirties, but hadn’t aged gracefully. With crow’s feet around her eyes and defined lines above her lip, she’d lived hard.

  Willing to service any of the MC members, Laurel stepped into the role of mother, sister, lover, or friend for all who resided there in Safe Mountain.

  “What’s your hurry, gorgeous?” Chuck Hayes’ raspy voice always left Molly’s pulse racing. The Sins of Wolves President, Chuck had long since used Molly for his own personal pleasure. She was his play toy, his little thing on the side.

  Rumor had it Chuck already knew which one of the young women belonged to him. Most said Rebecca Summers would soon become his mate. Still, he was a man, a hardcore Alpha male with a gigantic ego and insatiable needs. And poor little Rebecca seldom showed her face.

  “I’m hungry, Chuck.” Molly’s stomach growled as she thought of the passing meal, the food she wouldn’t sit down and enjoy with the others.

  Chuck’s heavy arm latched around her waist and he drew her against him. With his hot breath at her ear, he said, “You look hot as hell, Mol.”

  “Mol?” She whipped around and faced him, aware of his hard member mashing against her belly.

  Staring into his shimmering blue eyes, she saw a glimpse of her own. That same cold blue stared back at her. For a split second she put aside what she’d heard about Chuck as much as what she knew to be true.

  Was he just another soulless creature who masked his lack of morals by parading around as the MC President? Did he wear his ability to save Sevier County’s innocent women like a badge, a medal won in a hard-fought battle, as a way to conceal more diabolical motives?

  “I thought about you today.” He stared down the slender bridge of his nose as he grabbed her hips and slammed his lower body against hers.

  Behind them, the MC fellows greeted their old ladies and she couldn’t help but notice the significant differences in couples. Those who were known as mates gravitated to one another.

  Those who were body bumpers, fuck buddies, just sort of casually sought out their bed partners as if they didn’t have anything else better to do.

  “It’s hard to make somethin’ outta nothin’, Chuck.”

  “I don’t want just something, darlin’.” He rolled his hips against hers. “I want you.”

  Seeing a chance and taking it, Molly ground out a slow erotic rhythm. “Well darlin’, tonight? A little bit of this and a little bit of that, is gonna cost ya.”

  “What kind of naughty do you have on that dirty mind of yours?”

  About that time, Romy passed them. As if he were seeing her for the first time, Chuck slowly turned and watched her. His entire body went rigid. His nostrils flared. His eyes widened before they nearly disappeared under heavily hooded lids.

  To Molly’s surprise, not to mention her disappointment, Chuck released her and took a step back. His ragged breath fell in the room like a broken chime, and his skin color changed from a heated red to a pale shade of grey.

  “Of all the damn women…” he whispered, clearly entranced.

  Molly gripped his bicep and yanked him forward. Nipping at his ear, she hissed, “For the record, she’s the naughty. And I have all sorts of delicious ideas for the three of us.”

  “Romy Nichole is off limits.”

  “Romy Nichole?” Molly studied hi
m. “Were Jack and Martha Hanson friends of yours?”

  The wrinkles encasing Chuck’s eyes narrowed. He pushed Molly aside and stood in line waiting for chow like everyone else in the MC. As club president, he could’ve gone to the front and no one would’ve cared. The fact that he didn’t raised a few brows. The fact that he kept his eyes trained on Romy? Even more peculiar.

  The mate transformation unfolded. She’d heard about it, even longed to witness it, but as Chuck became more distant and his eyes glazed over with this undeniable lustful expression, her heart clenched in agony, not because she had feelings for Chuck. Oh no, Chuck wasn’t the problem here. She zoomed in on Romy.

  Analyzing her next play, Molly further taunted him by rubbing against him. “I thought you wanted to have a good time.” She smoothed her palms across his broad shoulders. “I was kind of looking forward to it. The two of us together could teach Romy Nichole a thing or—”

  Before she knew what hit her, Chuck whipped around on his boots and grabbed her by the hair of the head. With his fist at the base of her nape, he flashed his incisors and bit out, “I told you she’s off limits!”

  A demanding growl filled the room. Loud snarling sounds alerted her to the obvious danger of standing too close to a wolf-shifter during his transformation. The gnashing of teeth and shredding of clothes drove home a point—she’d provoked the animal living within him.

  In the distance, chairs and tables toppled over. “Chuck!” The club president’s name echoed with tremendous force as some of the guys tried to stop a powerful shifter’s transition.

  It was too late. Molly had crossed the line. In doing so, she’d called out the most dangerous of wolves.

  ****

  After the commotion died down, Romy slipped away from the table. She turned and studied her childhood friends before she left the dining hall. Unlike some of the others there, Romy had friends from her old life, people she wanted to protect.