Rough as an Outlaw (Book 3): Seven Tribesmen MC, #3

By Paula Cox

This is book 3 and the finale of the Seven Tribesmen MC romance series! 

 

Nobody does it rougher than Bishop.

 

She came to lock me up.

But in the end, she'll set me free.

Free from the darkness clouding my soul.

And free from the men who want me dead and gone.

 

BISHOP

 

I'm not gentle. I'm not kind.

But the ladies can't stay out of my bed.

They know a real man when they see one.

They know I'll kill to protect what's mine.

 

But Stella Holmes is different than most.

She thinks she can stand up to me.

Hell, she thinks she can take me down.

 

But what Agent Holmes doesn't realize is that – behind that badge, beneath that suit – is a body.

A woman's body.

One that sees me and knows exactly where she belongs:

 

On her knees, doing exactly what I say.

 

STELLA

 

The biker thinks he's above the law.

I'm here to prove him wrong.

 

But it won't be easy.

Bishop is used to getting his way with women.

It's not hard to see why.

He's tall, alpha, dark, dominant.

Every word is spoken like I was born to serve him.

 

And the longer I'm in his presence, the more I start to think he might be right.

 

But Bishop has demons below the surface.

He thinks hurting people is the only way to live.

I have to show him there's another way…

 

Or I'll have to drag him into prison myself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393266068

Book preview

Rough as an Outlaw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Seven Tribesmen MC Book 3)

By Paula Cox

NOBODY DOES IT ROUGHER than Bishop.

She came to lock me up.

But in the end, she’ll set me free.

Free from the darkness clouding my soul.

And free from the men who want me dead and gone.

BISHOP

I’m not gentle. I’m not kind.

But the ladies can’t stay out of my bed.

They know a real man when they see one.

They know I’ll kill to protect what’s mine.

But Stella Holmes is different than most.

She thinks she can stand up to me.

Hell, she thinks she can take me down.

But what Agent Holmes doesn’t realize is that – behind that badge, beneath that suit – is a body.

A woman’s body.

One that sees me and knows exactly where she belongs:

On her knees, doing exactly what I say.

STELLA

The biker thinks he’s above the law.

I’m here to prove him wrong.

But it won’t be easy.

Bishop is used to getting his way with women.

It’s not hard to see why.

He’s tall, alpha, dark, dominant.

Every word is spoken like I was born to serve him.

And the longer I’m in his presence, the more I start to think he might be right.

But Bishop has demons below the surface.

He thinks hurting people is the only way to live.

I have to show him there’s another way...

Or I’ll have to drag him into prison myself.

CHAPTER 1

W hat? Stella managed to turn around slowly. She covered the instantaneous disgust that teased at her heart with confusion. Stan's proximity sent a chilly disgust dissolving in her stomach.

You're such a sweetheart. His palm slid over her cheek, his fingers gentle. The disgust doubled in Stella's stomach. She didn't have to fret over hiding her feelings for long. Stan's hand slid further back his fingers tangling into her hair. Suddenly, he gripped her hair tightly and his expression darkened. And you're such a slut, aren't you?

Shock obliterated Stella's previous nausea. For a second, she forgot her sweet persona. Stella struggled to free her hair from his grip while snarling, What the hell, Stan!

You don't think I smelled something fishy? Stan shook her head. Pain skittered across Stella's scalp as she winced. The man lowered his lips to her ear, his breath hot and his voice dark, "I had someone watch you and, lo and behold, you were in bed with the Seven Tribesmen. Literally."

"You had someone spy on me?" Stella gasped, breathlessly. One hand struggled against his grip while her other hand slid slowly toward her holster. She had to get her gun, before Stan noticed.

I also know, since that oaf got out of ICU, he's been staying with you, continued Stan as his fingers seemed to tighten in her hair. Stella faintly wondered if he'd rip out her locks when her fingertips met salvation: her gun. Stan was too busy with his tirade to notice the subtle change in Stella's attitude. What's so special about that jackass, Stella? Arthur Bishop is a criminal. He's utter trash!

No, he's not, Stan! Stella slammed her gun's muzzle against the underside of his jaw. Stan froze, his eyes widening. She pushed him back with her gun, and his hold on her hair lessened.

The man stumbled backward, hands raised at chest height. Now, Stella, don't do anything rash.

Oh, no, this is plenty thought-out, Stan. She advanced on the man, keeping the gun poised at his head. Rage and pure anger boiled through her thoughts. Her stomach clenched with a cocktail of fury and adrenaline. Just like when you hired thugs to kidnap me or when you convinced Delilah to shoot cocaine into Bishop's IV.

How did you know? Stan's eyes widened, his features paling significantly. A tremble made its way to his fingertips as he realized his situation to its fullest extent. There weren't many worse-case scenarios than being on the opposite end of a gun held by a woman you attempted to kidnap.

Well, I had my reservations, admitted Stella, with a shrug of her shoulder. A look of hope crossed Stan's features, until Stella re-poised her gun at his head. "Until you just said that."

Tension filled the space between the two. Stella glared at him, while Stan shifted uneasily beneath the muzzle of her gun. Her index finger tensed, the itch to simply pull the trigger overpowering in her mind. Her propriety stopped her. Justice had to be served, not revenge.

A loud crack lit through the air and, as one, Stella and Stan turned toward the door. The door shuddered and bowed inside the room, before Bishop crashed through the door. The doorjamb splintered under his weight, and the hinges squealed against the door.

In the sudden confusion, Stan brought his fist into Stella's stomach. She gasped and sucked in air, her grip slackening on the gun. He wrenched it from her hand. Stan snatched Stella, holding him flush along his side. Stella froze as the cold muzzle of her own gun pressed against her temple. Stella clutched at his arm, her nails digging into his skin. She turned her gaze toward Bishop, fear flickering through her thoughts.

Bishop stopped dead in his aggressive charge, gun drawn from his waistband. His expression darkened, and his lips twisted into a livid scowl. His grey gaze flickered between Stella and Stan, his brain racing for an answer.

Drop your gun, or I'll shoot our beloved Stella and frame her death on you. The order shot through the air, cleaving across the thick tension easily. Stella's heart skittered in her chest. Nausea crept up her throat. This plan could not have gone more wrong.

You wouldn't, growled Bishop, his fingers flexing around his gun's handle. Despite his verbal claim, he wasn't sure he was so right. Stan had organized an abduction of his partner because she turned him down. The male agent obviously wasn't entirely stable.

Stan pressed the gun harder against Stella's temple. She gasped, straining in his hold. Near her ear, her partner's words came out in a low, confident growl, Try me.

No one would believe I did it, breathed Bishop, fingers still fidgeting along his gun's grip. He licked his lips, his grey eyes wide with desperation. Despite the obvious turmoil pinching across his features, Bishop spoke with confidence and determination, "I saved her during the abduction you orchestrated, Agent Jackson."

Stan barked a rough laugh. The sound shot down Stella's spine like barbed wire. Her mind roiled through options. Prior years of self-defense flashed through her mind, but none of it would guarantee Bishop's safety. She needed to catch Stan off guard, surprise him, and regain her weapon.

I've already begun to pin the abduction on you, chuckled Stan. He waved the gun against Stella's head as he reiterated, Now, put your gun on the floor. I'd hate to ruin Stella's pretty face.

The biker looked helplessly at Stella. She imperceptibly shook her head, but both of them knew he had no other option. The best he could hope for was reinforcements sent by Qwerty. However, the delay meant one of them might die in the meantime. Bishop lowered to the floor, switching on the safety on his gun as he pressed it to the carpet. He slid it over the floor, toward Stan. Bishop climbed back to his feet, raising his hands in preemptive compliance.

Stan smirked, squeezing Stella closer to him. She barely contained the bile that climbed up her throat. Suddenly, her partner landed a peck on her cheek and murmured hotly into her ear, I'll take care of you later, babe.

Before rage could flare in Stella's mind, Stan jerked his arm. The butt of the pistol slammed into Stella's temple. Pain arched over her head, darkness dotting the edges of her vision. She blinked rapidly, fighting the agony as a warm sensation oozed down the side of her head. Stan shoved her away, and the world fell out from under her feet. With a lurch and a groan, Stella tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Stella! Bishop yelled, his body jerking toward her.

Ah, ah. Stan stepped between Bishop and Stella, gun raised and a smug grin on his lips. He waved the gun in front of Bishop's face, motioning toward the floor. On your knees, Arthur Bishop.

Bishop leered with livid grey eyes as he lowered to his