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  Sage’s Surrender

  Hell’s Riders Book Four

  Joy Blood

  Copyright © 2018 by Joy Blood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Acknowledgments

  More To Come

  Also by Joy Blood

  Keep in touch

  Prologue

  The sun beats down on my back as I lay parallel to the asphalt roof. The heat from the tar seeps in through my two layers of clothing, taking me back there again. The burning. The heat. It’s hot—too fucking hot, forcing me to reach up and swipe away the sweat accumulating on my forehead. The action causes me to nearly miss my chance—the whole reason for being perched up on this roof.

  The door to the building swings open, revealing my target. He isn’t alone. It doesn’t matter, though.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  They walk in stride to the truck parked across the street. But they won’t make it there.

  The trigger squeezes easily.

  Hiss.

  Hiss.

  The silencer only does so much to conceal my position. I watch with sick satisfaction as each bullet hits their targets, taking them both down.

  Letting out a long, drawn-out breath, I quicken my pace to leave the area, but not without one more look at the two victims now crawling to cover, trails of crimson forming in their wake.

  Revenge has begun.

  One

  Sage

  The smell of sex and desperation hits me as I walk through the door, and I grit my teeth. Up on the stage, a redhead hangs from a glossy pole, her legs spread wide open as she works the crowd. Any other time, my cock might harden at the sight, but not tonight—I have a more important mission than getting my dick wet.

  “Can I get you anything, handsome?”

  My eyes slide up to a pair of tits bursting out of their top as I take a seat in the back, in the dark, enough not to be seen. “No,” I snap, shooing her away as I cut my gaze back to the room.

  “It’s a two drink minimum.” She pops her hip to the side as her hand not holding the tray lands there.

  “We’ll both have a whisky. Rocks,” College says from next to me, dropping a fifty onto the tray. Tits smirks before sauntering off, furthering my annoyance of being forced into buying something. But my sour mood isn’t because of the drink minimum or the busty cocktail waitress—it’s because of why we’re here in the first place. “Might not want to get us thrown the hell out of here before we get done what we need to do,” he tells me, getting comfortable in the chair.

  “Don’t want to fuckin’ be here,” I grumble, shifting back and stroking my hand along the stubble that has grown out considerably.

  “Shouldn’t be too long now.” He keeps talking, but I don’t listen. The kid is always trying to fill the space with something. Maybe that was me at one point, but not anymore. Too damn much has come across my path—the path of the club.

  The old me walking into this strip club, he probably would have had the waitress with tits the size of her head drop down and give me a blow job in the bathroom. Or maybe waited for the redhead to get done with her set and have her and Tits meet me out back in the alley so I could fuck them both. But that’s not me anymore.

  “Here you are. You boys in town for anything special? We don’t get many bikers in this place.” Tits smiles, sweet as syrup, and bends down to place our drinks next to us on the small table between our chairs. My gaze moves back over her. The swell of her paid-for-tits, the plump of her lips, that damn dark hair, so long, I could wrap it around my hand while she smeared that pink lipstick on my cock. Still, I get nothing. Not even a fucking twitch.

  “Just passing through, sweetness. Say, we are looking for an old friend. Goes by the name of Silver. Is she working tonight?” College leans in closer as Tits perches her ass on the armrest of his chair.

  “Oh, Silver? Yeah. She’s up next.” My gaze snaps to the stage just as the redhead smiles and bows before shaking her ass the whole way backstage. I hadn’t even realized the song had ended. The announcer says something I can’t make out over the hoots and hollers. Grabbing the whiskey next to me, I toss it back in one go, the ice bumping along my lip. I take in a couple pieces and chew them down as Silver walks out onto the stage—no, she fucking sashays. Moves that tight little body in ways that make me want to kill everyone in this place for witnessing. My cock decides to take that moment to find life, and I lean forward and rearrange my dick before taking another couple pieces of ice into my mouth.

  “Son of a—”

  “Get the fuck outside,” I growl at College, but he doesn’t listen. “Do I need to remind you whose daughter she is?” I snap, making him look my way.

  “No. Shit. I’ll be out there. What are you going to do?” He stands and downs his whiskey as he chances one more look at the stage, and I almost punch him in the face. I finish the rest of the ice in my glass before answering.

  “I’m goin’ to get the damn princess and drag her ass back home.”

  Two

  Brook

  The spotlight shines in my eyes as I take the stage for the last time tonight. The crowd isn’t bad at all. Lots of heavy tippers out there, and if I’m lucky, they’ll be tipsy enough to toss more money my way. I don’t go to the pole at first. Instead, I dance to the beat, swinging my hips and gliding my hands across my body. Wearing a silver corset and thong, it doesn’t take long for me to show the crowd what they are paying for: Silver. My costumes, the bright platinum blonde hair I pay for weekly to cover my naturally dirty blonde—it’s all the for the act. And it pays off. Every. Night.

  The club I work at is in a college town, and we get more partygoers and bachelor parties than we can keep up with. Piles upon piles of bills are laid out on the stage as I let my hair loose and throw my top to the floor. More hoots and hollers sound out as my breasts bounce free, and I bring my leg around the pole to do a backward bend that no doubt sh
ows off the outline of my pussy. The thong presses along my seam, and knowing they can almost see my most sacred parts gives me a thrill that can’t be matched. I crave the feeling of being wanted. And I don’t give a fuck if stripping is how I get that. As a perk, I make more money in one night than I would a whole month waiting tables.

  “Give it up for Silver!” The crowd roars as I come down from the pole and saunter toward the back while my earnings are raked up by the staff. We’re never allowed to grab any of the money thrown onto the stage. Big no no.

  “You killed it tonight!” Ginger smiles at me as I walk into the dressing room.

  “Thanks.” I shoot her a smile. “You going on after Gabby?”

  She nods in confirmation as she continues to apply her makeup. I glance up at the screen on the wall and watch as Gabby takes the stage. Adrian, the owner, believes we should watch one another while getting ready. It’s a way to give tips on how to improve and helps the sets flow smoothly.

  “Oh, hey, before I forget, Adrian wanted you to go back to his office before you leave tonight,” she tells me.

  “Did he say why?”

  She shakes her head and shrugs. Suppose I’ll find out later.

  “Wish me luck,” Ginger says as she stands and moves toward the stage entrance. I didn’t even realize her set was about to start.

  “Luck!” I call out, then pull on a robe to cover myself.

  “Holy shit! Those bikers are hot as hell.” Ruby’s words instantly douse me in a cold sweat as she walks into the dressing room. She plops down in front of the seat Ginger just vacated, adjusting her bright red wig.

  “Bikers?” I ask, turning toward her, then glancing back toward the stage entrance. The urge to bolt out the back door is there, but I try to rationalize. They couldn’t find me. I’m untraceable. Plus, I didn’t see any out there when I was dancing, and this isn’t the kind of place that attracts the biker crowd. This is a town full of frat houses and kids whose parents have more money than God. That money gets tossed onto the stage in buckets every time one of the many sports teams wins a game. The football players I have come to find are the biggest tippers, and the heaviest drinkers.

  “Yeah, leather vests and all.” She swoons, and I sigh. If she only knew.

  “Did you see where they were from?” I chance the question, trying not to sound alarmed and forcing my heart rate to slow. The pounding swells up to my ears as it drowns out her voice in my inward panic.

  Deep breath.

  I force one in, then out, grasping at her words to bring me back to the here and now, and most importantly, her answer—the one confirming I’m just overreacting.

  “Obviously not from around here. The only bikers I’ve seen are the fat weekend riders.” She sticks her finger in her mouth in disgust, and I try to feign a smile. “I was behind one the other day, and I swear, if his pants were down any lower, they would have caught on his back tire. Yuck!”

  I laugh, trying not to be visible with the deep breath I let out, knowing who she’s talking about. I’ve seen him around town. The town isn’t ridiculously huge, so you’re bound to run into the same people from time to time. I shake off the lingering feeling of dread and go to my locker to put my clothes on.

  “Well, I need to see the boss before I take off. I will catch you girls later,” I say, pulling my t-shirt over my naked breasts. I don’t bother with a bra. I’m only going straight home, and my jacket is going on next.

  “Don’t forget your haul. You did good tonight, kid!” Ruby yells, making me cringe. At twenty, I still hate being called that.

  “Goodnight!” I call out, stopping by the door where my envelope for the night sits waiting for me. Taking the thick package, I stuff it into the inside pocket of my jacket and start toward Adrian’s office.

  As I approach the closed door, I take in my surroundings. Something feels off about having to come meet with him. If he needs something, he usually comes to the dressing room and talks to us. But he’s also been a great boss and I’ve never gotten creeper vibes from him. In fact, none of the girls have anything but good things to say about him.

  I take in a deep breath and tap my closed fist on the door.

  “Come in!” his voice booms from the other side almost immediately.

  Turning the knob, I open the door and step inside to find him behind his desk looking my way. He’s a handsome man. Fit with a light peppering of gray in his dark, cropped cut and slight beard. He’s very appealing, but also off limits, and I’d rather not be that girl.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah. Come on in, Silver.” He stands, flicking his gaze past me. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he says to the other end of the office. I don’t get the chance to ask who the other person is or even look their way before Adrian is gone, but when the voice in the dark speaks, I damn near drop to my knees.

  “Found you, ya little shit.”

  Three

  Sage

  She’s grown up. Tall and stacked is what I’d normally say, but since she’s my best friend’s daughter, I’m going with grown up. And she looks grown up. Her hands fidget at her waist as I stare her down. Almost like she’s ready to bolt. Sweat beads across the small sliver of exposed skin on her chest. I force myself to believe it’s from her time on stage and not from being in my presence, but the devil inside me wants it to be the latter.

  “Wh—What are you doing here?”

  She might have thought she was well hidden in this small college town, but she’s had eyes on her since the day she left Cental. And Gin was pissed when he found out his little girl was working at a strip club. It took a force of nature by the name of Grace to talk him out of riding down here to California and dragging her back home.

  “It’s time for you to come home.”

  “No. Absolutely not. This is my home now. I like it here, I like my job, and—” I stop her there, hand in the air.

  “Your dad got shot, kid. He’s in pretty bad shape.” If the information affects her, she doesn’t let on. She blinks only once, then glances at the wall behind me before bringing her baby blues back to me, the shield of defiance I’m well acquainted with falling back into place.

  “Is he going to die?” She crosses her arms over one another just to push her teenager bullshit a little further.

  I shake my head. “Hope not, but still don’t know. He’s been in a coma for over a week.”

  “What the hell happened?” Her voice raises just a bit, but she keeps her cool.

  “Got shot.” Her eyes roll, just like they have at me in the past. Instantly, my palms spring to life, the prickling tingles blooming to the surface at the remembrance of landing them on her backside for giving me her sass—sass I had secretly come to crave.

  “Obviously. But how? What the hell has the club gotten into this time?” She crosses her arms tighter, pushing her tits up. Her fake leather jacket is open just enough for me to see the outline of her nipples. Look away.

  “We don’t know. It looks like it was a hit. No shots were heard, nor was there any trace of a shooter. Reek is looking into who the hell would have it out for Gin.”

  When Brook was younger, and her mother was still married to Gin, they were involved in the club, but after her mother moved her and her brother away, I’m not sure how much Brook really heard. From her attitude toward me right now, I’m guessing she’s been misinformed by a woman who most likely talked bad about the father of her children.

  “Well, that list is probably long. It might take him a while,” she scoffs. “I don’t understand how coming here to tell me this is going to change anything. Whether I go back or not, he’ll still be in a coma and probably die. Me being there isn’t going to change that.”

  “If he dies and you aren’t there, you’ll regret it, kid.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she hisses. “And you don’t know that. If he dies, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to me.”

  “Watch it. He might not have been there most of
your life, but he’s still your dad,” I growl at the girl, taking a step forward and pointing a finger in her direction. She’s not fifteen anymore, but still not too old to take over my knee.

  “Fine. I will go to the funeral—”

  I storm over and grip the little brat by her waist, cutting her off. She lets out a screech as I toss her over the top of the desk. Things clatter to the floor, but I pay them no mind as I bring my hand down onto her ass. Her jeans do nothing to hide the sound of my palm connecting in five quick smacks, sating the sick need of my palm on her backside, ready to delve out more if needed. We both pause for a moment when I’m done, almost as if we aren’t sure what to do next. Her breaths are fast, her back rising and falling as she tries to fill her lungs again.

  I back away.

  “You will come with me and stop being such a brat, or I will make sure you don’t sit for a week,” I demand, quickly trying to compose myself before she eases from her position on the desk, straightening out her shirt and jacket.

  “I guess some things never change,” she huffs, her face flushed and eyes slightly dilated. “Fine. I need to talk to Adrian, let him know I’ll be gone for a while.”