BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books by Kristina Blake Page A

apart.
                  I can't keep this up. I can't keep juggling the lives of the two men that live inside me: one dead, the other surviving as a shell of his former self. I don't know if what I'm about to do is noble anymore.
                  But I have to do it. The men responsible for nearly destroying me—the men who continue to destroy the company I invested my soul in from the top-down—need to answer for what they have done. And they are too powerful for anyone else to reach. I still have money, and I still have connections.
                  Time to put them to good use. I may not be in a position to save the world anymore, but I am in a position to save it from men like them.
                  Ana clings to me as I tear through the streets of Omaha like a demon. Several times I think I see the flashing red of a rotating light, but any police activity quickly recedes into the distance, and it's just the two of us once more. If Ana suspects our narrow brushes with the law, she says nothing and only squeezes her arms harder around me.
                  She's becoming a good rider—physically and instinctually. I'm finding it more distracting than ever having her tag along on back, but it has nothing to do with a novice's missteps. All I can think about is her hands, her arms, and what they would feel like to have them wrapped around my shoulders as I take her. Our roles would be reversed for a change; she would straddle me from the front, wrap those sinfully long legs around my hips and clamp them behind my surging back as I take every filthy thought I've ever had about her out on her in a way I have no doubt she would enjoy.
                  I angrily push my thoughts of roughly fucking Ana aside. My mission starts tonight. Every piece has fallen into place. I can't afford to be distracted. It will take every ounce of nerve I have left in me to do this.
                  And then, if I survive the night, I'll have to do it two more times.
                  The address Keating passed off to me takes us down a well-lit side street into a residential neighborhood. Luckily for me, Keating has never been a fan of Richards. I didn't like the man's ideas about the 'direction' he was trying to push the company, but I had never been heavy-handed enough with the employees I considered to be my most trusted friends. I paid for that trust, and paid dearly.
                  Tonight, Richards' long overdue repayment is in order.
                  I cut the Sportster's engine as we near the house on the end, and the bike rolls to a stop in the driveway. I see a light on in one of the upper windows, but the curtains are drawn, and there is no indication that whoever is inside has heard or even noticed our arrival. I've already confirmed with Keating that Richards lives alone, and prefers it that way. He will be alone tonight.
                  I leverage my weight off the bike. Ana's arms slip from me, but I can tell that she wants to hold on. She still wants to talk me out of the confrontation I'm about to have; she senses the black circumstances, and wants to avoid violence. She's perceptive that way.
                  She slides down off the bike and follows me across the driveway until I put up a hand to stop her. "No," I command. "You stay here. You wanted to ride with me, and now you're going to have to play by my rules. This isn't your petty attempt at blackmail, and it sure as shit isn't the pool hall. You'll be in danger if you follow me, and I want you to stay put."
                  "What are you going to do?" Her voice quavers on the question. I turn away. The light cast by the streetlamp is bright, and if she's discerning enough, she might just catch a glimpse of the telltale bulge in the side of my jacket pocket. I had pulled the gun from the saddlebag before she followed me out of