Hound Read online

  CREDITS

  Copyright © 2019 KJ Dahlen Books

  Editor: Leanore Elliott

  Book Design & Cover: Wicked Muse

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR | Now that K.J Dahlen is out on her own, she has released 30 new books at her WEBSITE | To get KJ’s unique Book Bling & all her latest books visit>>> | KJDAHLENBOOKS.COM | Get her Newsletter>>>

  DEDICATION

  THE SERIES

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  DARE TO TAKE THE RIDE

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  Further Reading: Byron

  Also By Kj Dahlen

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Now that K.J Dahlen is out on her own, she has released 30 new books at her WEBSITE

  To get KJ’s unique Book Bling & all her latest books visit>>>

  KJDAHLENBOOKS.COM

  Get her Newsletter>>>

  Daily Suspense In MC & Mafia Romance

  DEDICATION

  For all the readers who have followed Satan’s Spawn MC Series & Sin’s Bastards MC Series.... Here is the Next Generation for the Sin’s Bastards MC.

  Thank you for reading my stories

  K.J. Dahlen

  THE SERIES

  Book 1: RAINE

  Book 2: CHANCE

  Sept. /7 ... Book 3: GAMBLER

  Sept. /25 ...Book 4: BOWIE

  Dec. /20 ... Book 5: JUDGE

  March /19 ...Book 6: BYRON

  July 31/19...Book 7: Hound

  Book 8: Dante

  Book 9: Iceman

  Book 10: The KIDS

  Chapter One

  Hound groaned...Long and low. His head hurt, his body hurt. He tried to open his eyes, but they drooped badly. He finally managed one eye. Fuzzy... everything was fuzzy.

  A low moan sounded from close by. He listened and heard it again. Then something landed on his chest. Both of his eyes popped open.

  A ceiling above him, white and not familiar. Ok, he wasn’t at home.

  The moan sounded again from next to him. He turned his sore head toward the sound with a wince. Fuck, his head was pounding.

  A person was in bed with him with an arm slung over his chest. He blinked. He now tried to remember last night.

  A blank.

  “Ohhh...” the person sighed.

  He stared at this stranger as her long hair covered her face.

  “What the hell?” she asked in a pained voice.

  Yeah, same thought for him. He was trying hard to think of what he remembered last.

  “Oh, god...My head!” she exclaimed as she tried to sit up.

  He turned his gaze back up to the ceiling. Well, she was doing better than he was. He hadn’t tried to move at all really. Not until he figured this shit out.

  “What...” Her words fell away. “Why am I nude?”

  His head turned toward her again as he stared. Yes, she was nude. Beautiful creamy breasts with the pinkest nipples he had ever seen.

  “OH!” she yelled then grabbed her head. “Why am I here with you?”

  “Good question,” Hound finally spoke.

  She tugged the sheet up and over her breasts.

  Well, it was nice while it lasted. He turned his gaze up at the ceiling again. He felt like shit. Like he might puk—

  “Oh, no!” she yelled and scrambled out of bed to grab a small trashcan and she did just that.... Puked.

  Hound finally sat up. The room spun. “What the fuck did I drink last night?”

  No answer.

  Of course not... she whoever she was... had been too busy with the trashcan.

  She sighed and stood up to face him. “Duggan Moore?” she asked while looking pale and stunned.

  He focused on her now...on her face that is. “Sara?” he asked in an equally shocked tone.

  “WHY?” They both started at the same time.

  “What...”Again, they spoke.

  Hound let out a long breath as he swung his legs over the side. He slowly gazed around. Bottles of champagne littered the carpeted floors. He spotted lace underwear...then his boxer briefs. He paused and peeked under the sheet that he held onto. Yep, he was also bare ass naked. “We must have had one fuck of a party.”

  “NO!” she yelled then grabbed her head in pain. “I-I don’t p-party.”

  He stared around. “Looks like there was a party, woman. And it looks like we had it at the Motel 6 to me.”

  Sara raised her head then looked over at the bed. Her eyes rounded.

  Hound followed her gaze.

  There were blood smears on the white sheets.

  His eyes widened as he swung his stunned gaze up to her face.

  She had paled two more shades at least, as her body swayed. “I-I was a virgin... and you— YOU!”

  Confused, Hound shook his head and opened his mouth to deny being the one to—he halted and then took another peek down at himself. He flinched when he spotted the crimson on his.... Yep, he did it.

  He heard a thump.

  Slowly looking down, he saw Sara sprawled out on the carpet. She seemed to have fainted dead away. He would’ve went to catch her but he felt so sluggish that everything around him seemed to happen in slow motion. Yeah, a hangover from hell.

  Scooting off the bed, he went around the mattress to see if she was okay.

  Sara seemed to be coming to as she again grabbed her head and moaned.

  He tucked the sheet around himself and looked down at her. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked up at him. “No. no...I am not.”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair. “God, even my scalp hurts.”

  “Oh well, poor baby. You have a hangover, apparently.”

  He blinked and again, peered down at her. “No need to be rude. Looks like it’s a contagious hangover to me.”

  She sat up and then gasped again in pain again. “Rude? You are a monster!”

  He pulled his head back. “Now listen lady, I—”

  Huffing in anger, she stood up and planted her hands on her hips.

  Hound’s eyes widened and now, he was finally awake. This woman had curves on top of curves, large full tits, a great pair of hips and beautiful long legs. If he did do this, he had great taste.

  Sara batted her eyes at his staring. Then she peered down. Her head shot up as she gasped then reached out and grabbed the sheet he was holding.

  “Hey!” he said as she ripped it away from his nude form.

  She wrapped it around herself then stared at him. Her mouth popped open. “Y-you—are...”

  Hound sighed then peered down at himself. Yep, at full mast. He raised his gaze “Morning wood...sorry.”

  Her mouth shut and made a grim line. “And the blood?”

  Again, he let out a sigh. “Look Lady... I do not remember a thing.”

  She stared at his face. “Neither do I.”

  Shaking his head, he then took a few steps to pick up his underwear.

  Sara remained silent then when he bent over, she gasped.

  Hound smiled. He did have a nice ass.

  “How can you just act like all this is...” Again, she faltered. “Tell me how we got here!”

  He put on his underwear. “No... no I can’t.”

  “You’re a man. You prob
ably have done this a hundred times.”

  Hound chuckled as he finally found his jeans. “Maybe fifty?”

  “This is NOT funny. Mr. Moore.”

  He tugged his jeans on, though he almost stumbled as he did. “My dad is Mr. Moore.”

  “Well, I am not talking to your dad. I am speaking to you!”

  He looked up at her. “Look...I get that you’re upset but shit like this happens.”

  “Not to me!” she insisted as she now started looking for her clothes.

  “I have no memory of ...” He paused. “No, wait. I do remember the bar. But I had one drink and was about to head home.”

  “Well, I do not go to bars,” she snapped as she placed her hands on her sheet clad hips.

  He stared at her. “How do I know you again?’

  Her hands dropped from her hips, as she looked stunned again. “I run the local bakery. You knew my name a few minutes ago!” She looked flustered as her eyes welled up with tears. “I had sex with you— you took my...” She balled her hands into fists. “And you don’t even know who I am?” Her voice rose to a shout.

  Wincing in pain, he put his hands up. “Don’t yell!”

  “I was saving myself for...” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she choked with a sob.

  He let lout a long breath. “Well, I do not even remember us... um doing it? Sorry.” He shrugged.

  “Oh...you are not sorry! You got what you wanted! You must have—”

  “Oh, no!” He cut her off. “Do not accuse me of rape or some shit like that! I don’t have to do that. I can get any woman I set my mind to.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, well bully for you. But somehow, you got me, a woman you did not even remember!”

  He shook his head and looked anywhere but at her. It appeared he had. The evidence was so overwhelming, but dammit. He sure wished he remembered having her. She was hot as hell. As his mind whirled over everything and no memory of anything came to him, his eyes narrowed as he spotted a piece of paper on the floor by the door.

  “Are you even listening to me?” she asked as she had stopped crying.

  Hound walked over and picked up the paper. He stared at it. His brain did not comprehend what he was looking at. “So, your name is Sara Beth Bassette?”

  “Oh, so now you know my name?”

  He shook his head. “It says it right here. Along with my name and...”

  Sara rushed across the room and took it from his hands. She peered down at it. “No...no... Oh, no!”

  This could not be happening. It just couldn’t. He stared at her. “And Fuck no.” He gritted his teeth.

  She glanced up at him.

  He balled his hands into fists.

  “Well, now you are finally taking this seriously.” She looked back down at the paper. “I-it looks like my signature.” Her brow wrinkled up.

  He grabbed it back from her and spotted his. “It looks like mine too.” He was so confused and angry. “This says we are fucking married!”

  Sara simply stared at him. “Finally, you care about all this!”

  Hound glared at her. “Why did you do this?”

  With a gasp, she took a step back from him her face full of shock. “Me?”

  Nodding, Hound looked around while still trying to figure all this out. “You needed a husband or something?”

  Her face turned a bright red. “Oh, my god! You sonofa...” She let out a breath and bent to get her dress. She marched into the bathroom and slammed the door almost off the hinges.

  Hound again, looked down to study the paper he held. It looked official. Was signed and stamped by a Justice of the Peace. Dated yesterday. It had her signature and his. Then a witness signature. He peered at the name. He didn’t know this person. Who was it? “How did she mange this?”

  “I didn’t! You idiot!” She marched out of the bathroom and stopped to angrily put her sandals on.

  Hound watched her. Damn. In that dress, she was... Her curves fit it perfectly. It was above the knees, low-cut in the front and those beautiful breasts barely fit in it.

  “I do not and did not want a husband,” Sara went on. “And I certainly would not choose an asshole like you!”

  Hound’s head rose up and his admiring stopped cold. “Asshole?”

  “Yes. That is what you are!” She stopped to look around then stomped across the room and grabbed a small clutch purse. She paused and stared down at it. “I have never used this...it was in my closet but...I was never going to use it until...” She glanced up at him.

  He shrugged. “So? It’s a damn purse. What is the huge deal?”

  Sara stomped over to the door clutching the clutch. “It was for a special occasion that hasn’t happened... yet.”

  Hound didn’t get it. “What the fuck does it have to do with us being married?”

  “Oh, no! We are not married! Or...we won’t be. We need to annul this!” She tapped the paper in his hands. “Cause I do not need you as a husband. A biker that thinks he’s god’s gift? I would almost laugh if this weren’t so horrible. You didn’t care when I was deflowered by you, but NOW you do when you see that you are hitched, don’t you?! Then you accuse me of setting this up?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hound right? That’s what they call you?”

  He stared at her, angry as he’d ever remembered feeling. He gave no answer, he was afraid he might do something... more of something he would regret if that were possible

  “Yeah, a hound all right. You would make a horrible husband.” She went to the door, opened it and slammed it behind her.

  “Fffuuuckkk!” Hound shouted and punched a hole in the wall.

  Chapter Two

  Sara had to walk all the way home. It was about a mile and a half. Her anger simmered. How dare he? Accusing her of setting him up? Acting like he didn’t care about her losing the one thing she had been saving for the right man. And he was sooo not that! Acting like it happened every day to him, waking up with a woman he just... oooh, the man was worse than all men.

  Then as she got closer to her house, her anger wavered to confusion again, as her mind centered in on how it all happened. She did not drink for one. Ever. Her grandfather was an alcoholic and he literally drank himself to death after her grandma died. He parents were killed by a hit and run drunk driver who was never found. She was just a baby. From the age of 14, she swore to never drink.

  Then another thing, how did she get from being at home in her house to that motel room with no memory of in between. She slowed as she finally came closer to her little house. She looked down at the clutch gripped too tightly in her hand. It wasn’t new but it was entirely unused. Her grandmother had given it to her when she was a teen and said to use it when she finally got engaged. Only then could she use it on a date with her fiancé. It was a sort of tradition thing. Her own mother had given her a shawl for the same thing. Grandma Selma still had that shawl till the day she died.

  Sara remembered what she had said, “Little Sassy, it will be a special day and as old as I am, I probably will be in heaven by then. So, I want you to use it when you get engaged and a little part of me will be there when it happens.”

  Sara halted at the walkway to her home. Sassy. Only her and her family ever called her that. It was dubbed on her by her grandpa as she was mouthy from the get go he had said. He always laughed about it though, saying, just like your grandma.

  Well...now she was married and in her hand was that purse. It was all so bewildering. Then that Duggan-Hound...he was a piece of work. Ok, ok...So when he would come into the shop, she would pause and admire him, but from afar and she would barely look him in the eyes. Wow, he had these like dark blue eyes. Mesmerizing. And that was why she never looked into those eyes too. Afraid she would fall under his spell too easily. She would watch him walk out after he purchased her muffins. Admiring his confident walk, his behind in those jeans, his cut that said Sin’s Bastards MC. All kind of cool really. He would get on that large roaring bike and ride aw
ay with her muffins. Five days a week, every morning. The only thing he ever bought was those sweet French muffins. He never bought bread, donuts or a Danish. Always the briar muffins as she called them. A recipe from her Grandmother.

  She let out a sigh. Well, he may be hot man on a bike, but after today, she did not think of him as anything but a pain in the—

  A honk cut off her anxious thoughts. She turned to see Corey Black. Oh, man, not now.

  He slowed down and rolled down his window.

  Corey drove a freakin’ corvette. He was not cool nor good looking. Well, not to her. Some women might think so, but she hated his ever lovin’ guts. The car made him think it would make him what? More attractive, seen as a success? She rolled her eyes.

  “Hey Sara,” he called.

  She turned to face him. “What do you want?”

  He raised his brows. “Why you always gotta be like that?”

  “Why?” she asked as anger rose up in her all over again. “You have been causing me all sorts of troubles Corey and you damn well know it!” He had waylaid her deliveries, stolen customers from right in front of her shop. Messed with the health department license she almost could not renew and a host of other bothersome problems. Spreading rumors about her baked goods, and about her family.

  He shook his head. “Troubles? Nah. You cannot prove anything. So, is business slow? Is that why you look like you had a tough day? Or did you have a tough night?” he snickered.

  Sara’s anger floated away at his remark as her eyes narrowed at him. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothin.’ But if you are ready to sell?”

  She stomped over to his car. She really wanted to kick it, chip that red paint, see his face go red too. But she wouldn’t, instead she would just repeat the same thing, “I will tell you again. I do not want to sell my bakery. End. Of. It.” She pivoted and stalked up to her door.

  “You will sell. You will!” he yelled then peeled out with burning rubber.

  Heaving a heavy breath, she dug in her clutch for her keys. Like I needed a visit from Mr. Fluffy. He owned a chain of bakeries, called Fluffy’s. Why would he care about her one tiny bakery? She never could figure that out.