Vipers Rule (A Skulls Creek Novel, Band 2) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Stephanie Tyler is the New York Times bestselling author of the Skulls Creek, Section 8, and Eternal Wolf Clan series.

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PRAISE FOR VIPERS RUN

Also by Stephanie Tyler

SIGNET ECLIPSE

For my MC-loving readers . . .

Prologue

Heavy metal music blasted through the speakers of the sweet, cherry red Ford Mustang as Tals took the ramp to the parkway in a swift motion and then really let her loose on the open road.

It was nearly one in the morning. Maddie wouldn’t notice the car was missing. She might see that the odometer was higher and her gas tank was almost empty, but he had a feeling she didn’t notice things like that. She was surrounded by people who did things for her.

He was mostly pissed she wouldn’t let him in to be one of those people. But at sixteen, he knew he was too young to feel that strongly about any girl—though that didn’t stop him from knowing something about him and Maddie was just “right.”

Obviously he was thinking about Maddie too much to notice the police car silently trailing him. He did notice when the lights flashed and the sirens wailed, and instinctively, he sped the hell up . . . but there was a cop waiting at the next mile marker, blocking the road.

Fuck me.

His heart was still racing hours later when Maddie came into the police station, alone. She made eye contact with him while he was handcuffed to the bench with a few drunk and disorderlies.

He smirked. Because hey, she’d definitely noticed him, and she’d been working damned hard to pretend she hadn’t.

Long dark hair. Hazel eyes. A perfect body for the flowing hippie shirts she always wore with ripped-up jeans. It was summertime, and her flip-flops showed her toenails, which were painted with blue polish.

She was so fucking perfect, it made him ache. It was worse when she looked at him, and she did look at him, all the time, when he was supposed to not notice. But it was the oldest story in the book—bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks falls for rich girl who can’t be with him.

But she wanted to. And who said the story had to end badly?

“Are you pressing charges?” one of the policemen asked Maddie, and she had the damned nerve to consider it. That was the flaw in his plan—he’d never figured she’d make that move.

Shit.

She shook her head no, a tight expression on her face. She had to sign some papers, and she kept her back to him while she was at the desk. When she walked out, she didn’t make eye contact.

She hadn’t sent in her grandmother—or her father. It could’ve been worse. Way worse. Not that getting arrested was ever good.

Dad would be proud, though.

“Christ,” he muttered out loud as he waited for his ride home.

His one phone call had, of course, been to Tenn, who’d been at work and unable to get any messages—or leave the job—until he was finished filming. So Tals had hung out outside the police station, sitting on another bench, watching the faces of the men and women who entered. Prisoners were brought around the back, so these people were here to see loved ones—they had that frazzled look, because they were justifiably worried and had no clue what they’d find beyond those doors. He was familiar with being on both sides, thanks to his father, who regularly put him, his mother and his brother through nights like this.

Tals had managed to stay clean until now. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t done things to warrant being inside, but he’d been really good about not getting caught.

“Seriously, Tals?”

Tals looked up at his brother. They were fraternal twins, although there was no denying they were brothers. Tenn was a little taller, and his eyes were brown instead of blue like Tals’s were. But they had the same facial features that garnered plenty of attention. “Yeah, seriously.”

Tenn sighed and together they walked across the parking lot to their mom’s car, an ancient station wagon that she was convinced was too unsafe to drive. She took cabs back and forth to work, and Tals was convinced she had no clue that he and Tenn drove the thing on a regular basis.

She had no clue about a lot of things, but hell, talking about her was one of the few things that could get him and Tenn fighting. “Anyway, thanks for coming to get me.”

“No problem.” Tenn put the key in the ignition, and both said a silent prayer that the thing would start. After a tense few moments, it did, and they were headed through town, passing the exclusive community called Jessamine, where all the shit had started. “But all that over a girl?”

“Over a car,” Tals corrected.

“You can bullshit a lot of people, Talon. Pretty much everyone but me.”

Tals stewed over that for a minute. “She’s different, Tenn.”

It was Tenn’s turn to correct him. “She’s rich. She’s trouble.”

“You’re not wrong,” was all Tals could manage. “Don’t tell Preach.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

Chapter 1

Fifteen years later

Axl Rose’s screaming falsetto screeched through the speakers as Tals drove the rebuilt 1974 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am SD455 nose to nose with the equally hot-rodded 1968 Ford Mustang GT500KR. The cars were important, but the drivers were the real part of this race, and Tals had the lack of fear and love of speed that always gave him the advantage.

Miles from home, in a stolen car in an illegal street race was the perfect end to the year. Smoke billowed from his exhaust as the car roared under him. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly he knew they’d ache tomorrow, and the engine alternately purred and rumbled as he took the tight corners on this stretch of now-deserted road.

He was never as free as he was during these moments. Treating the streets like a racetrack. These illegal street races were run on a dime, with an eye toward protecting its participants.

He wasn’t supposed to be racing like this. Or stealing cars for Havoc. But now that Cage was back as the MC’s XO, the second in charge, Tals was freed up from some of the heavier MC responsibilities and had more free time on his hands. He was back to being enforcer of Vipers, something he excelled at. His rep preceded him, so not too many guys wanted to deal with him flexing his muscles.

A bored Tals was a really bad thing. Especially for all the people set to lose major money tonight when he won.

Which he would.

The course laid out for the race would take no more than ten minutes—ten minutes that would alternately feel like a lifetime and fly by, the last mile stretching straight out in front of him.

Although he could never shake off his status as an MC member—never wanted to, either, since he’d fought damned hard for it—tonight he wasn’t Tals from Vipers MC, an enforcer, repo man or ex-Army. Tonight he was completely free.

Tonight he was also winning the fucking race, which he accomplished with a heavy foot on the gas, a tight swerve into the final stretch and balls of steel to take on the residential street at 110 mph.

His body still shook from the adrenaline when he eased the car to a stop about a hundred feet past the actual finish line. He took a few deep breaths, head back, eyes closed, trying to convince himself the car had stopped moving.

It took about that long for the crowds to reach him. When he finally pushed out of the car, he found himself surrounded by the men and women who’d parked their cars along the sides of the finish...