Filthy Disciple

She was an assignment.
A selfish brat who'd run away from home and who’d found refuge in an MC.
A spoiled pain in my ass that I had to bring back to Daddy.
Only, Isabelle is nothing like the picture my initial research painted. Yes, she's a brat. Yes, she's insecure. And yes, she's a Disciple…sort of.
But she's so much more than that. So broken, yet so hopeful.
So lost, yet so eager to be found.
I found her.
But that means her father has too. Taking her home was supposed to repay a favor owed.
I just didn't realize that home was the most dangerous place in the world for her...

Available in Kindle Unlimited

EXCERPT REVEAL

(C) Serena Akeroyd and Cassandra Robbins

PROLOGUE

CADE

Cindy Davis is hell on my dick. 

Not that she knows it. 

When she serves me coffee with a disinterested glance and inadvertently flashes me a set of tits that I’d be A-OK suffocating in…

When she leans up on her tiptoe to grab extra sugars from a shelf in the diner where she works and her skirt pulls taut to reveal an ass that’s begging to be spanked…

When she dips down to retrieve a spoon that’s fallen on the floor and looks over to laugh at something one of her co-workers says, I know one thing and one thing alone:

She’s running from her father, my job is to drag her back to New York, and somewhere in the middle, I have to fuck her. 

I just have to. 

As a career criminal, I know it’d be a crime not to dick her down and make her see heaven, hell, and everything in between. 

I watch as she wanders past a booth where the brothers from the Disciples’ MC sit, a longing expression overtaking her features when she peers at one fucker—Ryder. 

My hands ball into fists as she flirts with him. 

Or tries to. 

I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it, and he looks awkward as hell with the attention because, from weeks of stalking Cindy, I know he’s very much taken. 

The funny thing about this world is that when you watch from afar, you literally see ticking time bombs before the explosion. 

Cindy is that. 

She’s hot and spoiled and used to getting what she wants. 

Therein lies the problem. 

Ryder doesn’t want her. 

“Hey,” I call out, raising a hand to gain her attention. 

She shoots a bored look at me, literally giggles at whatever shit Ryder says as if he’s the funniest comedian in the world before turning her attention my way. 

“How can I help you?” she inquires, resting her hand on her hip. 

That sass—it can’t just be me who wants to tap that.

What the fuck is wrong with these Disciples asswipes?

Deciding that their loss is my gain, I smile at her, packing on the charm. The one-hundred-megawatt Frasier charm that has gotten my brothers and me into trouble since we were ten. 

She blinks. 

Her breath stutters. 

Her lips part.

I’ve got her. 

Then Ryder chuckles at whatever bullshit his buddy is spouting and her focus fades. 

She jerks as if she’s been shocked and this time, she swallows back tears of longing. 

I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have. 

I’ve been staking this place for three weeks now and she is officially that. 

Maybe the stakes are different for me. I get the feeling this is a long-ass crush she’s fighting, but that’s the joy of being Irish—I kissed the Blarney Stone when I was born and Cindy Davis is about to be bombarded with Irish charm. 

Sure, she might get my ass killed, but some women are worth burning for, and Cindy Davis is exactly that. 

So I’ll make my retreat, stalk her pretty ass until I know every single one of her secrets, and when she’s ripe for the plucking, that’s when I’ll make my move. 

This filthy little Disciple has no idea what she just unleashed upon herself, and I can’t goddamn wait to watch the orgasm hit her pretty eyes when she realizes that Irish checks American every. 

Fucking. 

Time.