Ride To The Edge (Lucifer's Saints MC) (Rough Riders MC Series Book 4) Read Free Page A

two years of service and it’s pennies on the dollar. He does what he does not out of the goodness of his heart but because he’s in the gray area where he can’t be busted for human trafficking because, technically, these women are told about their situation ahead of time, come willingly and sell their bodies for money to take back home. I’m not a fool, Hardy.”
    “Didn’t think you were.” I ached for a smoke but cleared my throat instead. “We done? I don’t want Talia to see you around.”
    “Of course. Just let me know how everything goes with your little meeting with Brad. If he’s not ready to sing like a bird then he will get no immunity. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, of course—”
    “Oh and by the way,” she began as she started to walk away. “It’s Ms. Kerrigan to you. None of you low life pieces of shit have earned the right to address me by my Christian name. Is that clear?”
    “Crystal,” I murmured as I watched her walk away.

 
     

     
    I t was a much needed off day from performing, and when that usually happened, I spent time with the woman who was my second sister. I had to admit in times like this, Jerrica, my best friend from my former life before all the fame, glitz and glamour would never be able to understand everything I was going through.
    She wouldn’t have understood being in rock band and she sure as hell wouldn’t have identified with “club life” but she was my piece of normalcy. That part of my life where I could just pretend we were just a couple of graduates from Vassar College who’d both moved out to Las Vegas and were still close enough to reveal friendly gossip.
    That’s all I could truly talk to her about now that she lived the dream of art gallery owner/mom of two with a husband who happened to be our band’s manager. We were close but life happened. She had her Summerlin soccer moms and their million-dollar problems while I had a life of booze, sex, rock n’ roll and dealing with thugs on a regular basis.
    However, she’d failed to tell me that she was actually hosting a cocktail party for the Summerlin Soccer Moms.
    I stood out like a sore thumb and regretted getting out of bright red Range Rover; pretty much the only thing I had in common with these bitches was a six-figure car but other than that, I couldn’t relate to any of them and she knew it.
    Hell, even though I’d worn designer jeans and a baby doll blouse that cost most than what the average casino worker made in a week, I paired it with stiletto Christian Louboutin boots that screamed rock n’ roll star if my tattoos hadn’t given me away first.
    I wasn’t completely covered but with a half-sleeve on my right arm and various tats on my left along with tattoos on my back, a proper tramp stamp with Hardy written in cursive and my son’s name and birthdate on my ankle, I wouldn’t exactly mesh with her crowd that maybe had one “college mistake” tattoo if they were lucky, coiffed hair, botoxed faces with perfect makeup and enough name brand clothes to feed a third world country.
    I tried to call her as I approached her front door but it was no use. One of the Summerlin Soccer moms had spotted me, and swung open the double doors to Jerrica’s palatial mansion like the place was on fire.
    “Oh. My. God. Jerrica, is this your little college friend from school who you bragged about having the band? What are they called?”
    I could only stare at the bleached blonde tart with her overly made-up face and the extensions in her hair that allowed her long flowing locks to mid-back.
    A light skinned black woman and another blonde along with a brunette approached the door, staring at me as if I was specimen in the zoo.
    “It’s Winter’s Regret,” the black woman responded to the bleached blonde. “My daughter and her friends attended the concert last night.”
    “Wait, how old is Michaela, Sarah? You always seem so youthful—it’s hard to imagine you have a teenager,” the bleached