(Scorned Devils MC 3)
MC Romance
Date Published: December 20, 2024
Publisher: Changeling Press
Building a hundred walls will not prevent Parson ripping away each brick to
get to the man who is his.
Parson: Raised in a religious family who accepted Parson’s
homosexuality, he struggles to understand Langston Gillman’s inability
to embrace who he is, what he feels. Pars put off patching with the Scorned
Devils MC in fear of losing his lover. Never again. Parson will patch with
the club and he means to have the man he desires. Pars vows to pursue Lang
until he stands vulnerable and ready to surrender.
Langston: Bullied as a child, Langston has reached the age of fifty-two
loathing his gayness. He navigates life by planning every moment of each
day. Still, occasionally he is unable to rid himself of his need for a man.
Unfortunately, Lang desires bad boys. When one particular bad boy rides into
his life on a Harley, his presence leaves Lang confused and angry. Langston
finds himself yearning for more with Parson. Problem is the biker not only
refuses to cut ties with Scorned Devils, the local MC, he will not be hidden
by Langston.
Rules are made to be broken, and Parson will not live his life in denial.
He intends to turn Lang’s world upside down, no matter the
consequences.
Excerpt
Copyright ©2024 J. Hali Steele
Parson
Calmness was the keystone of Parson’s life.
Today he sat beside his cousin, Mark, in a pew near the back of The Church
of the Trinity Episcopal church, praying to find rekindle that trait.
“I’m not asking for confession, and I don’t need a priest.”
Mark Turner was a deacon and while he could hear confession, only the
priest could give absolution. Parson didn’t need that. “I’m not seeking
the sacrament, because I’ve not done anything I regret.”
The deaths of the Bayside Specter president and VP had been a necessity, a
matter of survival, and Pars experienced no remorse over the sordid
affair.
“Good, because Father Tyson is preparing for Sunday service.”
Mark stared. “What do you want, Randall? Sorry, you prefer
Parson.”
“Right. Nothing, man. I’m torn about the relationship I’m in. Or was
in.”
“You’re not living with — what’s his name, Langston? —
anymore?”
“No.” Pars had done the one thing Langston Gillman would never
accept. “He’s being unreasonable.”
“Have you spoke truthfully with him regarding your
feelings?”
Mark was aware — hell, the whole family knew — Parson was openly gay.
None held his relationships as a sin, believing his love life was between
him and God.
“Does he know you love him?”
“No.” Parson twisted on the hard bench to better see Mark.
“What makes you say that?”
“Lord help me. You’re thirty-one and you’ve never been in a
relationship this long. What else could it be?”
Parson ignored Mark’s comment because, damn, Parson hadn’t thought about
that. Yeah, he cared greatly for Lang, but love? “He kicked me
out.”
“Let me guess — because you belong to the motorcycle club that runs
around, or as some believe, runs, the city of Coatesville.”
“He doesn’t like that I’m a member of the Scorned Devils MC, but I
can’t allow him to dictate who I can hang out and be friends with. Because
of his feelings, I put off patching.” Parson picked at his fingernails.
“Done playing games. I am who I am. Patched last week.”
“I see.”
Sunday parishioners started entering. Parson still needed to see Dread and
talk about meeting with the city officials at Cutters tomorrow regarding
plans for the Christmas toy drive. “Hey, thanks for letting me
vent.”
“Wish you weren’t an only child.” Mark sighed. “Not sure I
was much help, but if you ever need to talk to someone aside
from…”
“They’re my brothers, Mark. They’d never see harm come to
me.”
“That’s what concerns me. What lengths would your brothers go to in
keeping you safe? I’m not blind to what happens with motorcycle clubs,
Pars.” Mark stood. “I’ve heard about unsavoriness taking place in
our community.”
Talk of the Specters’ bikes being destroyed at the Midway and rumors behind
the incident had finally died down. There were other disputes, and if the
perpetrators were wrong, yeah, they got beat down. Without knowing what his
cousin might have heard, Parson couldn’t claim all the stories were lies. He
wasn’t going to get in to it now. Glancing down at his watch, Parson headed
for the door. “Damn, Mark, I gotta run.”
When Parson reached Hell’s Lair, the gate sprung open immediately. Damn
Spinner, anyway. He was always on the computer, watching the comings and
goings of everyone. Shit, it was Spin’s turn to keep an eye out for unusual
activity around the Scorned Devils MC compound. Spin hadn’t come back to his
place last night which, meant he’d camped out in the loft. As annoying as
Spinner could be, he kept Parson’s thoughts from drifting to Langston.
Parson spied Dread with his feet propped on the desk as he entered the
office. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Nothing much.” Dread scrutinized Parson. “You’re early for
a Sunday.”
Pars usually hit the clubhouse after church. Today, he’d skipped services.
“I was hoping to talk to you before you got busy.” Sitting across
from Dread, he sighed loudly. “Is there another place we can hold
meetings with the city council?”
“For years those fuckers have let us do the all the organizing for
this event. Mostly they sit at meetings pretending they want to be there.
They take credit at the end of the parade when all we get to say is — Santa
Claus has come to town.” Dread studied Pars. “Hey, it’s for the
less fortunate children. Shit, we’re the local MC some of those same members
would like to see disappear. Don’t really want them in my restaurant unless
they’re paying customers, but it is what it is, Pars. Sure as hell not
having them here if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“Wouldn’t expect that, but there are other places in town.”
“None I want to be involved with.”
“Look, Dread, Cutters is…”
“Langston is off on Sundays and Mondays. You won’t have to deal with
any shit.”
Parson’s chest deflated when he relaxed against the chair back. He wasn’t
sure Dread noticed. “Great.”
Standing, the VP walked to the office door and closed it. “No need for
everyone to hear your business.”
Fuck, Pars was going to get an earful.
“I don’t know what happened and I don’t really give a damn. I know
Langston’s been a prick this last month.” He stood right in front of
Pars. “I see the fire in your eyes but I’m not the one you want to go
toe to toe with today, or any day, about me calling a prick a prick. He’s
been hell to deal with.” Backing up a step, he glared. “Fuck
Langston. Or don’t. Whatever you choose, straighten your shit out because
not every meet will be held on Monday. We have to consider the needs of a
lot of people. If you can’t handle this, let me know now.”
“I got this.”
“Perfect.”
Pars got up to leave but Dread stopped him. “Another MC is joining us.
They don’t have a drive where they are.”
“Who?”
“The Immoral Sinners out of Harrisburg.”
“Don’t know any of them well, but I do hear they are unruly as
hell.”
“Yeah, I know. They’re small, but troublesome.”
About the Author
Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele
J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay
warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t
do those things but she wishes she could!
J. Hali’s a multi-published Amazon bestselling author of Romance in
Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and
LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide —
and they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can
be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of
coffee.
Author on Instagram/Facebook: @jhalisteele
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
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