The Enforcer: Zephyr Hills Phantoms MC (The Mayhem Makers Series - MMM) by Darlene Tallman ➱ New Book Release
Tressa Powers hasn’t had an easy life. She’s learned to keep to herself. Growing up, books were her escape. When she finally purchased an e-reader, she found a whole new world— indie authors. Tressa gets the chance to attend a book signing where many of her favorite authors will be. Real-life bikers will also be in attendance. She manages to snag a VIP ticket to the event instead of a general admission.While traveling to the hotel she’ll be staying at, she gets a flat tire. A tall, tattooed biker stops to help her change the tire. Even though she doesn’t get a good look at the man, she feels a sense of longing. Something she’s never experienced before. Pushing the sensation aside, she vows to enjoy her once-in-lifetime dream. Tressa doesn’t expect to see him again or be in a position so many of her favorite heroines find themselves in.
Enroute to the clubhouse, Chaos spots a vehicle on the side of the road. From what he can see, it’s a female trying to change the tire. His mother’s teachings return to him causing him to stop and offer her help. Because of the gear he wears while riding, Chaos isn’t able to catch her scent. Once he’s finished helping her, he continues on his way. At the clubhouse, he’s told the club was invited to a book signing so the attendees can get a taste of what a real biker looks like. Zephyr Hills Phantoms MC are shifters; something that’s a well-kept secret among the humans. Regardless, he’s one of the members who is attending. While walking through the venue, he catches a whiff of something positively delicious. Following the scent of lilac, he comes across the woman he helped earlier. His wolf clearly says, “Mate.”
When he watches a horrible club, the Bastions MC, corral his mate into a nondescript van, everyone in the vicinity will find out how he got his road name because he goes berserk.
*Suitable for ages 18+ due to adult themes, language, and situations*
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These standalone novels are brought to you by several bestselling authors specializing in writing twisted chaos. You'll get all the bikers, mobsters, and dark romance your heart can handle.
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“Come on, think Tressa,” I mutter to myself. I woke up to find myself trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Of course, if I hadn’t gotten a streak of bravery and mouthed off at the jerks who took me, I probably wouldn’t have taken the blow to my face that knocked me out.
Newsflash, getting hit like that hurts! My face feels puffy and one eye is partially closed, while I can taste blood in my mouth. Swiping my tongue over my lips, I wince when I feel the split.
“That’s gonna leave a mark,” I whisper, feverishly trying to get my hands loose from their bindings. I momentarily feel like I’m succeeding until fire races up my arms and I realize I’ve managed to rip the skin open at my wrists. “Dammit. What do all the heroines in the books I read do when they find themselves kidnapped? Because I know these guys aren’t going to let me go, at least not still alive. I may not be worldly, but I’m not naive nor stupid.”
Their comments have also let me know what they’re planning for me and it’s the stuff nightmares are made of, which says a lot coming from a self-confessed crime junkie. The tall guy with greasy, gray hair tied back with a piece of leather, whose cut denotes he’s the president of this band of miscreants, has already stated rather loudly that he’s first in line once the party really gets going. I had to read between the lines, but quickly realized that I’m the party favor they intend to play with. Now, I’ve always admired the old ladies who’ve finagled their way to freedom after being unwillingly taken. I even admire their tenacity for waiting to be rescued, but I don’t want to be that woman. In my mind, these scenes weren’t so gut wrenching, but in real life, it’s harrowing.
Shudders wrack my body at the thought of any of them touching me in any way, much less like that. I’d rather try and throw myself backward onto the floor and hope I break my neck or something than allow them to violate me.
Hearing a noise at the door, I look up and see one of the guys who took me leering at me before he throws his head back and cackles. “Time’s almost up, pretty lady. Once we’re done with you, there won’t be anything left for the vultures to snack on.”
One single tear rolls down my face before I can control myself. Seeing it, he laughs menacingly, and pulls out a knife from a sheath at his waist, walking toward me.
I’m sorry, Nini, that I won’t get to tell you about my brief time with the handsome biker. Right now, though, I’m so glad you didn’t come with me and you’re not here to experience this torment.
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