Through good times, bad times and times of war, Cole “Rush” Allen grew up in the Chaos Motorcycle Club. Along this journey, he watched his father, Tack,
and his MC brothers fight, sweat, bleed and die to steer the Club to legitimacy.
And they’ve got one more battle on their hands.
A battle they have to win.
But when Rush meets the woman who put herself right in the thick of it, he knows he has to stop at nothing to get her out.
Rebel Stapleton has lost someone she loves to murder and she’s the kind of woman who’s going to do something about it. She puts her career on the line, and her life, to bring the man who did it to justice.
That is, she does this until Rush Allen intervenes.
Chaos is at war and they’re about to face the ultimate showdown. They’ll have to negotiate skeletons from the past, enemies becoming allies, and loved ones in the line of fire on their ride to be…
AMAZON : https://amzn.to/2HACB7m
REVIEW
4 stars
I can't believe this is the end, I loved this series so much!I'm going to miss this world and the characters.As always the characters rocked this story and the plot was fantastic.Kristen Ashley did it again!
Free is a great story emotional,sweet and at some points fun. Apart from these you'll find also darkness and violence.It has a little bit of everything.
I loved Rush and Rebel, they have a great relationship.Rush is gentle and he is caring,sweet and lovable.I loved him hard!Rebel is sweet and lovely, I could easily connect with her.There is an insta attraction between them.I liked it for this reason!
This series is a must read!
EXCERPT
In this manner, they guided me onto 6th Avenue and all the way down that long, heavily trafficked, three-lane bastard into the foothills. I lost my side bikes on the small mountain town roads that led to back country roads, the guy to the left going forward to lead the pack, the guy to the right falling back.
It did not make me feel cozy and happy when we hit a gravel road, in the middle of nowhere, that was winding and ended at a remote cabin that did not look like it was set up to play its role as a vacation relaxation station.
More like where Jason might show with an ax.
The bikes stopped.
I stopped, cut the ignition to my Subaru, tossed open my door, hauled myself out, slammed my door and advanced fast on who I was guessing was the leader of the pack.
The guy who’d rode to my left.
He was off his bike when I got there.
He was also taller than I’d have guessed.
He definitely rocked that leather jacket.
And he had a great head of thick, dark hair that was overlong. So long one side of the front was tucked behind his ear and it was flippy messy in the back in a way that practically begged a woman to grab hold.
I did not grab hold.
I got up to the toes of my boots and shouted in his face, “You could have killed yourself, asshole!”
“Calm down,” he growled.
Oh yeah.
Growled.
His voice was deep and gravelly, rumbling up his chest and out his mouth in a way I could almost trace that shit.
I ignored this additional nugget of awesomeness that made this biker and yelled, “Calm down? Calm down? Are you insane?” I took a step back and threw out both arms. “I’m in the middle of nowhere at Jason’s Lodge o’ Ax Murdering Fun with a pack of bikers when I should right now be home, meditating or some shit.”
His head tipped to the side. “You meditate?”
I didn’t answer that.
I said, “Newsflash. When a bunch of dudes on bikes wearing leather jackets with patches
surrounds a woman’s car, she’s not gonna go Thelma and Louise on their asses on the exit ramp off Speer Boulevard to I-25, which is right in the heart of the city, which means right in the heart
of Denver traffic. She might hurt them. More, she might hurt herself. But most, she might hurt some unsuspecting single mom on her way home from work to feed her kids and later, lament her choice of their deadbeat dad who’s off banging his secretary.”
“It gonna sink in we’re here safe, so you can be done yelling at me?” he asked.
“Am I safe?” I asked back.
“You gotta ask that, you don’t know Chaos,” he retorted.
“Well, another newsflash, stud, I don’t know Chaos,” I shot back.
He leaned into me.
I smelled leather, fresh air, and the remnants of some sharp, tangy aftershave that I kid you not, actually tightened my clit.
Damn.
“Well, you’re about to know Chaos, so let’s get on to that,” he rumbled at me. “Get inside.”
“I want your promise right here you’re not gonna ax murder me when I go inside that cabin,” I snapped.
He sighed.
From around us, I heard a deep chuckle, actually a few of them.
“We’re not gonna ax murder you.” He sounded beleaguered.
He sounded beleaguered.
Right.
#2
“My name is Rush Allen,” the leader of the pack said.
“Well, you already know my name, so consider us introduced,” I returned.
He nodded once. “We need to talk about what you’re doing with Benito Valenzuela.”
“This is where we disagree, Mr. Allen.”
He leaned forward, his leather creaking, putting his elbows to his knees, and he tipped his dark head back.
This was a bad position. His legs were spread, his faded jeans tight on his knees, I could see their formation, and like everything about him, it was sexy. Especially them leading into thick thighs. More on the especially with his long-fingered, rough, veined hands. And adding to all that, with the arch of his neck, the column of his muscled throat was exposed above the collar of his cream thermal, and if his hair demanded your fingers buried in it, his throat demanded your lips trailing down it.
I wouldn’t allow myself to let my eyes roam to his package. If it was as good as the rest, shit might go south for me…fast.
Man, I was in trouble.
“I know about Diane,” he said softly.
My gaze shot from his throat to those crystal eyes, and my breath lodged in my chest because of his tone.
It was beautiful, full of warmth and sadness and understanding.
So much of all that, if he’d been there when Diane had died, and he’d cooed to me in that voice (perhaps while he held me in his arms and I smelled leather and tang), maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t have let that fire ignite in my belly. Maybe I wouldn’t have fanned those flames until it was an inferno that had built out of even my control.
I straightened my spine.
“You need to pull back so you don’t become Diane, Rebel,” he advised.
“Benito Valenzuela didn’t kill my friend,” I informed him.
“You don’t know who did that,” he informed me.
“I do know. And it was not Benito Valenzuela.”
“You think it was Arthur Lannigan.”
I leaned toward him. “No. I know it was Arthur Lannigan.”
“Let Hank and Eddie prove that,” he urged.
Oh yeah.
He knew Hank and Eddie.
Shit.
“They have.” (Uh, mostly.) “They just can’t find him.”
“And you think you can.”
“I know I can.”
“By playing Valenzuela and Harrietta Turnbull to get to him?”
“By doing whatever I have to do.”
“So you get dead, your neck snapped like Diane’s, what’s Diesel gonna do?”
I abruptly leaned back in my chair.
Damn Eddie Chavez.
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