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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36


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About the Author




This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

RIDING DIRTY. Steel Titans MC. Book Four.

Copyright © Franca Storm (2021). All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover Design by Clarise Tan at CT Cover Creations

Cover images provided by:

© Stock Photo 197598530

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The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed”. Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book”.


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I was pissed.

Nah, beyond pissed.

Being called down here, basically summoned weren’t something I was down for. People came to me. I sorted shit on my terms, when and where I chose. I didn’t cater to nobody else.

It angered me that I’d had to make an exception here.

I didn’t like being railroaded.

Fuck, I’d earned the right not to be, not to have to tolerate that kind of bullshit.

Problem was, I needed this business sorted ASAP. I didn’t have time to negotiate or get the person I was meeting with to budge on their way of doing things and make them submit to me and my way.

I cased the old brick building in front of me, followed by the surrounding area.

It was set off from the rest of the businesses in the area, everything around it basically dilapidated and deserted, leaving it alone, all to itself. Privacy, I liked that. With what I was caught up in, the way I lived as the President of Steel Titans, it had to be that way all the time.

There was no sign, no details at all, to give away what the building was all about.

Just the number.


I rolled my eyes.

A bit heavy-handed.

I swung my leg over my Harley and made my way up to the entrance, constantly scanning the area as I went. All clear.

The door was locked, but just as I was about to step back, a harsh buzzing sounded and I heard the lock release. The door opened in that creepy-ass horror movie way.

I shrugged it off. Weak try at intimidation. For a guy like me, it weren’t nowhere near easy. Fear weren’t a part of my life, or me. It took a fuck of a lot to cause that in me. Hell, my life was a goddamn horror movie.

Figuring that had been all in the past when we’d destroyed the Strikers MC and finally put down Nik had been a fool’s mistake. Living the life I did, all there could ever be was horror, pain, and death. It was a part of me and nothing was ever gonna change that.

The second I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me. I heard the lock clang.

I looked out at the rundown lobby. A brown leather couch that looked the worse for wear and a worn wooden side table were the only pieces of furniture, outside of the unmanned reception desk. A half dozen top-of-the-line surveillance cameras were positioned strategically all around the space.

There was a door to my left.

Nothing else.

Figuring there was no other route to go, I strode over there.

But, a second before I got there, the door flew open and a shadowed figure filled the doorway.

I tensed as they stepped into the light.

Goddamn it.

As much as I’d willed against it and hoped even harder than that, just the sight alone had me reacting.

After all these fucking years, it affected me.

She affected me.

I took her in.

Her curvy body was made to torment and built for sin. In her late thirties now, her added years barely showed. She was still in impressive shape since the last time I’d laid eyes on her, packing toned muscle on her five-five frame, carrying herself like the warrior that she was. And she was still dressed to kill. Not in the hot, fuckable sense. Nah, literally dressed to murder somebody. She was covered head-to-toe in black. She had two Desert Eagles holstered at either hip of her tactical pants. A worn leather jacket was zipped down low enough to reveal a nice handful of tits stretching out a tank top. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. I watched her piercing blue eyes taking their time roaming over me while I did the same to her.

“Shadow,” I spoke, using her codename in an effort to put a distance between us and keep things strictly professional.

“Prez,” she returned, evenly.

That sexy rasp of her voice went right through me. It took me a second to shake it off, and then I told her, “This place is a shithole.” Especially compared to the last place we’d met at those few years back.

“Then you should feel right at home,” she shot back.

I took a step forward, not bothering to check my aggression as I did. I’d hit my limit with this whole thing. She didn’t react one bit. Just like usual. She was the first person I’d ever come across who hadn’t pissed themselves at the flare of my temper.

“I don’t take well to being ordered about. You know that, woman. Jumping through them hoops of yours—”

“Was necessary. A test.”

I stilled.

She’d cut me off.

I was all too ready to lay into her and tell her how it was gonna be from this moment out, when she stepped up to me instead.


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