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    Deadly Vow (Book 3): Lethal Darkness MC, #3
    Deadly Vow (Book 3): Lethal Darkness MC, #3
    Deadly Vow (Book 3): Lethal Darkness MC, #3
    Ebook136 pages2 hours

    Deadly Vow (Book 3): Lethal Darkness MC, #3

    By APRIL LUST

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    About this ebook

    This is book 3 and the finale of the Lethal Darkness MC trilogy!

    I accidentally knocked up my enemy's daughter.

    MICAH

    When Paris shows up at my doorstep, begging for a man, I don't even think about saying no.

    I f**k her until she cries out in ecstasy.

    I had no idea that I'd just screwed the daughter of my greatest enemy.

    Her father comes knocking four months later…

    And demands that I marry his now-pregnant daughter.

    The man could destroy everything I've worked my whole life to build.

    I have to decide: do I want war or a wife?

    There is no choice but to agree to his ultimatum.

    Now, I have a crucial weakness.

    And Paris's father is determined to end me for good.

    I find out just how far he's willing to go when he threatens his own grandchild.

    Big mistake.

    I didn't ask for a family.

    But now that I have one, I'll go to hell and back to protect them.

    So if her father wants a vicious war, then that's exactly what he'll get.

    PARIS

    My whole life, I've been a princess in an ivory tower, not allowed even to look at a man.

    I couldn't take it anymore.

    So I snuck out to have a taste of forbidden passion.

    I never dreamed it would leave me pregnant.

    Now, my father is making me marry the man who did this to me.

    I never thought I'd see Micah again…

    Especially not like this.

    That strong jaw, those inked muscles, that steely, unflinching gaze…

    Standing on the altar across from me.

    Lifting my veil.

    And claiming me as HIS.

    I tell myself I didn't want this.

    That I never wanted a man like Micah for more than one night.

    But when my life is threatened—along with the life of my unborn baby—I know one thing:

    Trusting Micah is the only way I can survive.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSopris Page Press
    Release dateJun 2, 2019
    ISBN9781393521747
    Deadly Vow (Book 3): Lethal Darkness MC, #3

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      Book preview

      Deadly Vow (Book 3) - APRIL LUST

      Deadly Vow: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lethal Darkness MC) (Book 3)

      By April Lust

      I accidentally knocked up my enemy’s daughter.

      MICAH

      When Paris shows up at my doorstep, begging for a man, I don’t even think about saying no.

      I f**k her until she cries out in ecstasy.

      I had no idea that I’d just screwed the daughter of my greatest enemy.

      Her father comes knocking four months later...

      And demands that I marry his now-pregnant daughter.

      The man could destroy everything I’ve worked my whole life to build.

      I have to decide: do I want war or a wife?

      There is no choice but to agree to his ultimatum.

      Now, I have a crucial weakness.

      And Paris’s father is determined to end me for good.

      I find out just how far he’s willing to go when he threatens his own grandchild.

      Big mistake.

      I didn’t ask for a family.

      But now that I have one, I’ll go to hell and back to protect them.

      So if her father wants a vicious war, then that’s exactly what he’ll get.

      PARIS

      My whole life, I’ve been a princess in an ivory tower, not allowed even to look at a man.

      I couldn’t take it anymore.

      So I snuck out to have a taste of forbidden passion.

      I never dreamed it would leave me pregnant.

      Now, my father is making me marry the man who did this to me.

      I never thought I’d see Micah again...

      Especially not like this.

      That strong jaw, those inked muscles, that steely, unflinching gaze...

      Standing on the altar across from me.

      Lifting my veil.

      And claiming me as HIS.

      I tell myself I didn’t want this.

      That I never wanted a man like Micah for more than one night.

      But when my life is threatened—along with the life of my unborn baby—I know one thing:

      Trusting Micah is the only way I can survive.

      Chapter 1

      Micah

      N ope, never seen him before, the man said gruffly. He shut the door in my face.

      I growled and slammed my fist against my thigh. Then, realizing that I was crumbling the paper in my hand into an unusable mess, I relaxed and smoothed it out. I plucked the pen from my pocket and scratched off another name from the list.

      I was painfully aware that going down all the James Porters in the phone book was an idiotic way of doing things, but I didn’t have any other ideas that struck me as particularly brilliant. Half a dozen down and not a single one of the bastards had ever even seen the man in the photograph that Sergei’s guy had given me. There were only a couple more, and then I would be back to square one.

      Valeriya hadn’t been much use. I’d stopped by her place first, on the off chance that she knew something she hadn’t already told us years ago. One look at the picture and she shook her head confusedly. She looked up eagerly and asked, Do you know something new? Are you going to catch them?

      I don’t know, Val, I’d said. I’m trying my damndest. I don’t know whether this picture is even helpful. Even if the guy does know something, it’s been three years since Anton went down. The son of a bitch could’ve skipped town a long time ago.

      She’d clutched my arm, her grip surprisingly strong for a woman as tired-looking as her. Find him, she’d said, eyes blazing. He knows something. I can feel it.

      I promised her I’d do my best, then I’d hit the sidewalks to beat down doors until someone gave me an answer worth chasing.

      Yet, a full day later, it looked like I was going to come up empty-handed. I was down to the last James Porter in the book, and the sun was about to set behind me. I felt my muscles sagging on the bones. It was tiring to have doors slammed in my face over and over again, not just literally but figuratively, too. Every person who told me they’d never heard of James Porter or never seen a man like the one in the picture was one more severed possibility, one more nail in the coffin of my dead friend, my murdered brother.

      I checked the address on the mailbox in front of me with the list in my hand. Yep, this was the place. One last visit before I headed home and tried to figure out what my next move might be. I walked up the driveway, climbed the short staircase to the porch, and pressed my thumb against the doorbell.

      I heard it echoing inside, followed by the yip of a little dog and a man cursing. Shut up, ya cunt, he bellowed roughly. Slippered feet slushed along the floor, growing louder as he walked in my direction. The chain rattled and then the door was yanked open.

      What do you want? he demanded.

      I looked up. It was him. James Porter. There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in my mind that this was the same man. The mustache was gone, but there was no mistaking that bulbous nose and shiny bald head I’d been shoving in people’s faces all day. It was him.

      I wasn’t going to take the chance of him getting away. I was sick and tired of being polite. A full day of rude assholes slamming a door in my face had worked my patience to the bone, and I was never a patient man to begin with.

      I moved quickly. I leaned forward and planted one wide hand on the door to prevent him from shutting it. He began to shout, What the fuck— but the words were barely out of his mouth before I’d reached my other hand forward to pin him by his throat against the wall.

      Let’s go, motherfucker, I growled. You and I are gonna have a chat.

      His eyes bulged out of his skull as he gurgled, spit flecking on his lips. I threw him down the entry hallway and kicked the door shut, locking it behind me. I didn’t want to risk someone else coming home unexpectedly.

      Who the hell are you? How dare you assault me in my own home. I’m going to call the police right this fucking—

      Shut the fuck up, James, I said calmly. I turned and lifted the bottom edge of my shirt to show him the gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans. He turned white and stopped talking immediately. Good man. Now, walk inside, and let’s have a seat. I’m not going to hurt you. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask. I let the shirt fall back over my weapon. When he didn’t move, I raised an eyebrow and jerked my head towards the living room.

      Okay, he mumbled, turning and shuffling inside. This way.

      I followed him in. Something collided with my ankle and I looked down to see a curly-haired little dog planting its feet on my calf and looking up at me with its tongue out. Cute pup, I remarked.

      That’s Badge, he said. His voice was still shaking with fear.

      Come here, Badge, I said. I picked him up and placed him on my lap as I settled down on the plaid couch. Sit, boy. You, too, James.

      James took a careful seat in the rickety chair that faced opposite the couch. He had put on a few pounds in the years since the picture I had was taken. A small potbelly stretched the fabric of his undershirt. This is about what I saw, ain’t it? he asked dejectedly. The woman, Janson or Jenison or whatever her name was.

      I nodded slowly, keeping an eye on him as I petted the dog in my lap. Normally, I hated little rodent-looking fuckers like this, but for some reason Badge was winning me over. He curled into a ball in the crevice between my knees and started to snore. Tell me everything you remember, I said.

      I knew it. You look just like the bastard who was there that night. The one who got all shot up.

      Watch yourself, I warned.

      James blanched. I’m sorry. Was he a friend of yours?

      You could say that.

      Well, I meant no disrespect. He was a mess, that’s all I’m sayin’. They did a number on him, poor fella.

      Start from the beginning, James.

      He leaned back, sniffled, and wiped the back of his hand across his nose. Alright. I used to be on the force, yeah? He pointed at a medal hanging on the mantle above the fireplace to my left. Albuquerque Police Department was stamped across the outer rim in big blue letters.

      I looked at the dog in my lap. Badge. I get it.

      He chuckled nervously. Yeah. Hilarious, I know. Anyway, being a policeman ain’t exactly the road to El Dorado, if you know what I’m saying. Almost every guy in blue takes side jobs to make ends meet, put food on the table for the wife and kids, you know.

      Sure.

      Some guys do the seedier stuff—playing bodyguard for a mobster type, giving some of the coyotes a hand with pullin’ immigrants across the border, you know. I never had much of an appetite for that kind of thing, though. Too much risk. I ain’t much of a risk taker. But a man’s still gotta provide, and my ex-wife, being the money-grubbing whore that she was, didn’t make that easy on me. So I took a job working security at night for an apartment building that one of the biker gang guys owned.

      Tristan Jenison.

      "That’s the guy. I never met him personally; it was all set up through a buddy of mine, God rest his soul. But it was a steady gig, it paid pretty well, and there was never

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