(Riptide MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense
Date Published: November 7, 2025
Lily ran from a nightmare straight to Rattler's arms. He’s all leather, muscle and lethal promise. Dare she hope for an HEA?
Lily -- Abusing me was bad enough, but when my a**hole of a boyfriend threatened to shoot a tiny kitten, I brained him with a pot of spaghetti sauce and ran -- straight into the arms of the tattooed VP of the Riptide MC. He’s everything my ex isn’t, and that gives me hope. He promises to keep Scrapper and I safe, but my ex isn’t the forgiving kind. He said he would kill me if I left him and I know he’s going to come looking for revenge.
Rattler -- She might be younger than me in years, but there’s a world of experience looking out of those gorgeous eyes, and it isn’t the good kind. When she pulled a gun on me, I knew she was my kind of woman. She’s on the run from an a**hole who used her as a punching bag. He might have the local law enforcement in his pocket, but me and my brothers in Riptide have military experience, and sometimes vigilante justice is necessary.
Trigger Warning: This is an MC action thriller romance. It contains violence, abuse, coarse language, vigilante justice, and adult situations. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Enjoy!
Rattler
Thor and Janet were actually going to tie the fucking knot! I suppose I should have seen it coming, but they’d been playing friends-with-benefits for so long I guess I thought that’s all they’d ever be. And now here I was -- sitting in a bakery waiting for a box of frilly wedding-type cupcakes to take back to the clubhouse for the old ladies to sample. Not sure how I got conned into playing fetch. I was happy for them and all, but you’d think they could have sent a prospect, not the fucking VP.
The bell on the door tinkled, and I looked up as a woman came in. She looked rough. More than rough. One eye was black, and through the open collar of her coat I could see a circle of greenish yellow bruises on her neck. Her clothes looked like she’d slept in them, and she had a bulging backpack slung across one shoulder. She looked young, too young to be stuck in the kind of relationship those bruises indicated.
She glanced in my direction and quickly looked away. Yeah, she was scared of something. Or more likely, someone. She walked up to the counter, and I noticed a slight limp. Probably from the same incident that gave her that black eye.
Maybe I was wrong. Ace always chided me for jumping to conclusions. She could have been in a car accident or tripped and fallen down a flight of stairs. The problem was, in my experience, that only happened once in a very long while. I’d bet my bottom dollar there were more bruises hidden under her clothes, in varying shades of blue, yellow, and purple. Evidence of an ongoing series of attacks.
Impotent assholes who beat up on their women were one of my triggers, and I looked outside to see if maybe this was my lucky day. Maybe the asshole was here with her.
She asked the woman behind the counter for a coffee, and when the lady turned to get it, she grabbed a muffin and stuffed it in her pocket. The attendant turned back and sat the cup of steaming coffee on the counter and rang in the purchase. Pulling a few bills out of her bra, the newcomer paid the bill and hurried back outside, gulping the coffee down as she went. I watched as she turned the corner and headed down the alley beside the bakery.
Standing, I strode over to the counter. Tossing a couple of bills on the counter, I smiled. “For my coffee, and the muffin you forgot to charge my friend for.”
“Your friend?” Her brows raised in disbelief.
“That’s right. She must not have seen me waiting for her. I’ll be back in a few minutes for those cupcakes.” I pivoted and strode out the door before she could ask exactly how anyone could miss seeing someone as big as me.
I turned the corner and saw the woman crouched down at the far end of the alley, petting a kitten that had its head poked out of her backpack. She gave me the side-eye as I sauntered toward her, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.
I obviously didn’t do a very good job. She waited until I was about ten feet from her, far enough away not to touch her but close enough to block the view of anyone who happened to walk past the mouth of the alley. Then she straightened up and pulled the gun out from under her shirt. She made damn sure I saw her flick the safety off.
“Don’t come near me.” She pulled the backpack a little closer as if to protect the tiny scrap of a kitten in it.
Did I seriously look like the kind of guy who’d hurt a kitten?
Apparently, she thought so. I held my hands up. “I just wanted to talk. I’m not going to harm you.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Tim send you?”
I frowned, taking in her battered appearance. “Tim the guy that did that to you?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and the gun didn’t waver. “Fuck off.”
I had to work at not smiling. The swear words sounded cute coming out of such a tiny thing. “No, I have no fucking idea who Tim is. I just saw you come in and nick that muffin and wondered if maybe you needed a hand. I paid for the muffin, by the way, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
She snorted. “Not high on my list of worries right now.”
“Fair enough.” I gestured at the ground. “Doesn’t look all that comfortable down there. Care to come back into the bakery and we can talk?”
“Why would I want to talk to you?”
I shrugged. “I’m a nice guy. No offense, but it’s pretty obvious you’re running from someone. Maybe I can help. Do you have somewhere to go? I can offer you and your little companion there a ride.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see her calculate the odds of me being a serial killer. “I’m looking for the Riptide MC. Do you know where to find them?”
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.
She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.
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