Why did I like reading books about murderers? I didn’t know. But I’d always had a bit of a fascination with them.
I was deep into the psyche of the murderer’s mind when I got a text pulling me out of the story.
Bourne: You play dirty. Still, don’t be a little bitch all your life and chicken out of the dating profile. I’m going to bother the hell out of you until you do what I want.
The bad thing was, I knew he would.
Bourne was a stubborn jackass like that.
Even worse, I’d promised him that I would.
Which meant that I owed it to him and myself to keep that promise.
Penas didn’t break promises.
And I’d be damned if I would be the one to start.
So, though I was engrossed in my book, I put it down and pulled up the dating app that my brother had suggested I use.
Then I started to write.
Wanted: Man to feed me Doritos so my fingers don’t get orange. No weirdos.
I highlighted that sentence and sent it to my brothers and their wives in the group chat that I was in with them.
I knew that they’d want to add their input, so I would allow it.
For now.
Too bad I had no idea that by doing so, I’d be giving the longest, weirdest bio for a dating profile ever.
CHAPTER 2
I would call my fashion style: clothes that still fit.
-Bruno to Laric
BRUNO
“Why Farmers Only?” I asked, wincing when I read the website’s name.
“Bruno, you have pigs. You’re a farmer. This is perfect,” Six assured me. “It’ll work out great. You can invite your date out to meet you at your farm. Y’all can go feed all of the animals. Then you can cook her dinner.”
I looked at Six.
“I don’t want to do this,” I told her bluntly.
“If you do this, I’ll never bring up you leaving me behind again,” Six declared.
I stared at her, wondering if her words were true.
I’d do just about anything for her to never bring that up again.
A long time ago, when we were in high school, her father had given me an ultimatum.
Leave Six alone, and never contact her again, or he’d make Six’s life a living hell.
The bad thing was, I knew that he could do it.
So like any dumbass seventeen-year-old, I’d done it.
I’d left her behind, gone my own way, and had never looked back.
At least, for appearance’s sake anyway, that was what I did.
In reality, I kept an eye on her from a distance, making sure that she was always okay.
At least, until Lynn, the man that might as well be my very own father, had taken a liking to her.
Then Six had come back into my life with a vengeance, and ever since she and Lynn had married, I’d found it almost impossible to get back into her good graces.
Which, might I add, was bullshit.
I’d done it for her.
Sure, once I’d ‘grown up’ I could’ve come back into her life, but who the hell would want an ex-con in their life?
I knew that I wouldn’t want anyone like me in Six’s life.
Hell, it was bad enough that I had to allow her husband, Lynn, to have a part of her life. If anything, Lynn was worse than I was.
But at least he loved her and would protect her.
That was more than I’d done for her.
“That’s not going to matter to him, honey,” Lynn said. “He believes that he deserves your ire, so he won’t care if you stop.”
That was true.
I did deserve her ire.
I’d left her, like she’d said.
Then again, I’d left a lot of people behind in my thirty-two years. Six was just one of many.
“Fine,” she said. “Then just do it because I want you to be happy.”
My eye started to twitch.
“I’m an ex-con, Six,” I said. “No woman’s going to want anything to do with me on Farmers Only. Or any website for that matter.”
Six rolled her eyes. “Bruno, you’re hot, successful, and you’re unattached. Trust me when I say that any woman is going to go for you, ex-con status or not.”
I sighed.
“I shot and killed someone. On purpose. There was no ‘oh, I might or might not have been high on adrenaline because he beat up my sister.’ I shot and killed someone. On. Purpose. People don’t just get over that because I’m hot,” I argued.
“You shot someone because you had to.” She waved my worry away. “And trust me when I say, someone out there will understand.”
Hell, I didn’t even understand.
And I’d been the one to do the shooting.
Granted, the guy had been a piece of shit.
He’d raped three women. He’d beat up his own mother. And he’d all but maimed a two-year-old with his careless actions.
But that wasn’t my reasoning for killing the piece of shit.
Hell, I hadn’t even known about all of that other stuff.
I’d known that the motherfucker had tried to kill me because of some suspected slight, and I’d had no other choice but to shoot him and suffer the consequences. That was it. Me or him.
I’d chosen me.
And then I’d spent the next eighteen months behind bars until the parole board had learned of all the other shit that the man had done in his life. Then they’d been all, ‘Oh, no. We need heroes like you on the outside.’ Which was a bunch of shit.
I was no hero.
“Are you even listening to me?” Six snapped.
“You know he’s not listening to you.” Catori, one of my brothers’ wives, chuckled.
“Where is your cut?” another woman asked. “You can’t take a picture like that. You have to have your cut on.”
I looked over to find Swayze, Trick’s wife, staring at me with her phone in her hand.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because leather and bikers go hand in hand,” she said. “If you don’t have your cut on, nobody will know that you’re in a club. And being in a club automatically ratchets up the hotness factor.”
I rolled my eyes. “It got dirty. Had to have it dry-cleaned.”
In all honesty, it got blood on it, and I’d had to douse it down with the water hose before taking it to the dry cleaners to see if they could salvage it.
If not, I might or might not need to find a new one.
I was hoping that it came out, though.
Or, at least, when I wore it, it didn’t look like I’d tie-dyed it in blood.
“Well that’s just stupid,” Swayze grumbled as she put her phone down.
“I have one from last week,” Blaise called out, pumping her fist into the air as if she’d hit the jackpot. “And he looks good in it. He’s not even scowling!”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, that one’s perfect. Send it to me.” Six was still typing away at the computer. “What do you think of this biography for a profile? Hobby pig farmer by day, Souls Chapel Revenant MC by night. Thirty-two-year-old man looking for a woman that isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Anybody that can’t manage that need not reply.”
“I think we should add this…” Wyett suggested as she rattled off her idea of edits.