Through a Glass, Darkly (Assassins of Youth MC #1) Read Free Page A

hair looked like a greasy Medusa. No, thank you! I had to spray the chair with Lysol for days after he left.”
    “ Oo .” Kimball pretended to be shocked at my use of “condom breath.” She’d been born here twenty years ago and had never known any other way of life. But she read widely, as did I, so I knew she wasn’t really shocked. She was Allred’s thirty-ninth wife. I was his fortieth. “Yes, he was a nasty customer, all right. But remember that tungsten salesman from near Salt Lake? Now he was something to look at.”
    It was racy, discussing outside men like this, but we liked to do it. I was President of the Relief Society, organizing donations to the needy, and Kimball was my counselor or Vice President. I loved her like a sister, having left my biological sisters behind on the outside. “Oh, that Mr. Lawler was one giant stud. I’ve never seen a belt buckle that big. Guess everything’s bigger in Texas. Here, let me swipe your fluffy pockets.”
    We giggled like idiots as I slashed the empañadas with a pastry brush. I even smiled to myself when I heard the remote buzz of a motorcycle’s tailpipes approaching Allred’s mall. My eyes flickered to Kimball and we grinned wickedly. My husband Field—sorry, my first husband—had owned a motorcycle. Not a Harley, more like a rice rocket, but still, we used to enjoy “canyon carving” out in Arches National Park, Bryce Canyon, and all the natural wonderlands of Utah. Things were so much different then, on the outside.
    Oddly, a different bike’s engine joined in, creating a stereo roar as they approached. Two bikers? This would definitely be the highlight of the month. I hurried my pace with the brush as the two bikes cut their engines out front. There weren’t too many vehicles per capita inside Cornucopia, so it was always easy to get a parking spot anywhere. However, I dropped the brush when the loud barking of two men started down there.
    “Shiz!” Not bothering to stick the little pies in the oven, I rushed to the window, Kimball close at my heels.
    And saw a sight that had never taken place inside the walls of Cornucopia.
    Two rough and tumble bikers were vehemently arguing down there. One was heavily muscled with tattooed sleeves and leather cuffs. His flimsy, thinning brown hair stuck out from under a wool beanie. The other was tall, rugged, and sinewy in his leather chaps. He’d shoved the beanie guy in the chest, so his black “wifebeater” shirt was hiked up to reveal a strip of lean, white flesh.
    My mouth watered.
    That had to be Gideon Fortunati, not the brutal, dumb beanie guy. Had to. Just had to.
    Oh, how I wanted that to be Gideon Fortunati, with his shock of reddish auburn hair, his clean-shaven, sensual face. He had long arms, too, not those stunted-looking appendages of Mr. Beanie and other Cro-Magnon men of my community. His features were shapely and well-modeled, even when shouting at his friend.
    Wetness bloomed between my thighs. My heart sped up as my yearning for this man increased.
    Their language had never been heard in this saintly valley, either.
    “You weren’t even invited to this fucking meeting, Breakiron! Back the fuck off!”
    Breakiron poked Gideon in the chest. “This is my run, doofus! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. I should be Reed Smoot, not you.”
    Which was odd, because Reed Smoot was a Cornucopia member who had vanished without a word about six months earlier. How did they know Reed?
    Gideon bellowed, “You were told not to come!” By this time, other brethren had gathered around the arguing men. Men resembling blue-collar workers with shirts buttoned to the neck, men with hair cut as though a bowl had been placed over their heads. I still hadn’t gotten used to Cornucopia’s sense of style. “You blazed your way through the fucking gate without anyone inviting you.”
    Kimball and I actually gasped loudly when Gideon grabbed the finger Breakiron was poking him with and