Hounds of Hell MC: Crash/Razor (Print)

Crash (Hounds of Hell MC 5)

Helena — Returning to Mercy was supposed to be a fresh start, but this town holds secrets I can’t outrun. Crash is still everything I want, but he’s also a man I should fear. Especially when he finds out what I’m hiding.

Crash — Helena vanished once, leaving scars I can’t forget. Now she’s back, hiding secrets I may never forgive. But this time, I won’t let her slip away, even if it means facing demons I swore to bury.

Razor (Hounds of Hell MC 6)

Deva — The shop I built with my brother, No Mercy Ink, is my sanctuary. Now I’m left to defend everything we’ve worked for. Then Razor storms into my life — intimidating, loyal, and overly protective. Razor swears he’ll keep me safe, but how can I trust him with my heart when my survival demands I protect myself?

Razor — Deva’s fierce, stubborn, and utterly captivating. The deeper I fall, the higher the stakes. To win this war, I’ll have to face my past, defend my future, and prove to Deva that she’s not just worth fighting for — she’s worth everything.

 

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Excerpt

Razor

He had been about to gather his wrappers and make for the exit when a movement drew his attention. Looking up, he froze. There she was, standing beside his booth, purple hair tucked behind one ear, luminous eyes fixed on him.

“Want some company?” she asked, smiling and full of sass. Her lips, painted a deep rose color, had him wondering what they’d taste like.

“Sure,” Razor replied. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but they were just talking.

She set her tray down on the table with a casual air, tossing her purse onto the bench seat across from him. As she unzipped her coat, Razor’s gaze was momentarily snagged by the deep purple blouse she’d been wearing earlier at the tattoo shop. The wrap-style top hugged her figure in ways that made it nearly impossible not to notice her curves.

As she slid into the booth and got comfortable, Razor couldn’t help but appreciate the view. She moved with unintentional grace. For a moment, he had to remind himself to focus on something other than the enticing sight in front of him.

“I’m Deva,” she said. “Jackson’s younger sister. You’re Razor?”

He nodded, watching her peel the paper from the plastic straw and push it into her drink cup. She unwrapped her burger in no particular hurry.

“Thanks for this. It hasn’t been the best day,” she said. “It’s nice to have some company for dinner.”

Razor loved a confident woman, content to sit with her as she grabbed the ketchup bottle from down the table and literally drowned her French fries in it. Shaking his head, he asked, “You want some fries with that ketchup?”

The sexy little smirk the question earned him only made his growing interest worse. “Don’t judge. Ketchup is one of my few vices.”

“What are your other vices?” Razor felt compelled to ask.

“Ink,” she said. “Chocolate, diet soda, shoes.”

“Shady shit,” he said, teasing.

She nodded and took a hearty bite of her burger, attacking it with enthusiasm. He rarely saw anyone eat like that outside the Hounds. Maybe she was just that hungry, but there was something undeniably endearing about her lack of pretense. It was real, unfiltered, and cute as hell.

“Why was your day so bad?” he asked, since she introduced the topic.

Deva finished her bite and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “This actually started yesterday. Someone left a really nasty review online, and I just happened to catch it. I replied, tried to be polite, but their response to my reply was even worse than the original review. I didn’t see their follow-up until today.”

“Do you know who the client was?” Razor asked, his tone serious.

Deva shook her head, her voice steady but laced with frustration. “No idea. The username didn’t ring a bell. That’s the thing — they claimed they came in the week before Christmas, got a small tattoo, and it got infected because our shop is dirty, our staff is rude, and we don’t clean our instruments. Total bullshit. The only clients we had that week were regulars working on big pieces or sleeves. None of it adds up.”

“Damn,” Razor said, his hazel eyes narrowing. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with that.”

“I can handle a crappy review. Honestly, that’s part of the business,” Deva said, her voice steady but edged with frustration. “The real problem was the health department showing up this morning to investigate complaints. Yeah, they went that far. Apparently, someone reported that we don’t sterilize our equipment and a bunch of other lies. It took over two hours of my morning, and it was stressful as hell. We passed, though. The inspector even said we’re doing everything right. He did warn me to keep documenting everything just in case these were false claims, like something a competitor might cook up.”

She paused, her eyes narrowing. “I told him I didn’t think it was the competition because, until today, I thought we were the only tattoo shop in Mercy. That’s when he dropped the bomb — another shop is opening in a few weeks. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Razor leaned back slightly, processing her words. The idea of another tattoo shop in town caught him off guard. Normally, he had a pulse on everything happening in Mercy, and this was news to him.

“Sounds like you’ve had one hell of a day, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and warm, the nickname rolling off his tongue naturally.

“I told Jackson, and I think he’s still processing everything. I guess…” When Razor smirked at her use of Outcast’s birth name, she put her burger down. “What?”

“We call your brother Outcast,” he said. “It throws me off a little when you call him Jackson.”

That sly grin returned. “I’m not calling him Outcast. I really don’t care why he has that name and I’m not calling him that.”

“Any particular reason?” Razor followed up.

“Are you asking to make conversation or do you really want to know?” Deva asked.

“I think I want to know.” Razor watched her wrap her lips around the straw of her drink, finding her movements way more mesmerizing than he should.
“I’m his sister,” Deva explained. “Jackson may be Outcast to all of you. To me, he’s my dorky older brother who thinks he looks cool. Yeah, he’s quiet and broody and plays the part. But he’s horrible at karaoke, can’t cook to save his life, and he collects Pez dispensers. Did you know that?”

Razor had to laugh at that. Outcast sure as hell did fit the part but like the rest of them, he was an ordinary guy. Hell, would she be laughing at him, the club’s president, if she knew he could cook and was a pretty solid baker?

“I asked Jackson if there was any way the Hounds could dig around and find out who’s behind this mysterious new shop and when they plan to open,” Deva said, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation. “But, as usual, he just grunted at me all noncommittal, like he always does.” She paused, her gaze locking with Razor’s, a spark of determination in her eyes. “But since I’m sitting here with the president of the Hounds himself, I figured I’d cut out the middleman. So, let me humbly ask — any chance you guys could help us out? Maybe find out who we’re dealing with?”

“I’ll bet he did grunt noncommittally. He’s not allowed to talk about the club to anyone not in it.”

“I know.” Deva’s gaze locked with his. “First rule of Hounds of Hell is don’t talk about Hounds of Hell, right?”

“Something like that,” Razor said. “But yes, we’ll find out who is moving in here. Do you know anything else about them?”

“I know they’re supposed to be close to the sheriff’s office,” she said, gnawing on a fry. “I’m planning to drive by there when I’m done here and see what I can find out.”

“Why don’t you let me handle that for you?” Razor suggested, his tone calm but firm. “Just to play it safe.”

Deva rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Jackson already told me to be careful. I’m just planning to drive by, not case the joint.”

Razor couldn’t help but admire her fire. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her, and at times, it reminded him of Vanessa. But where Vanessa’s confidence had often been more of a mask — a fake-it-until-you-make-it kind of courage — Deva’s strength was real, steady, and unshakable. Vanessa’s quiet determination might have grown into something equally formidable, but life had taken her too soon.

Deva, on the other hand, carried strength with an effortless confidence Razor respected, wrapped in a petite frame with striking purple hair, captivating curves, and a whole lot of sass. She’d carved out such a strong sense of herself, running her own business alongside her brother. Deva also didn’t mince words. She was as blunt and straightforward as any man Razor had ever met, and he couldn’t help but appreciate that about her. She had a fire that made her unforgettable.

“Humor me,” he said, his voice softer but still resolute. “The sun’s down, and you’re planning to go alone without knowing what you might walk into. If they’re the ones targeting your shop, chances are they already know what you look like. Let me handle it for you. I’d rather check it out and keep it from turning into a bigger problem.”

“I’d be finding my Glock if there is a problem,” Deva said. Something told him she knew her way around the gun too.

“Which Glock do you have?” he asked. “I run a gun shop here in town. Old Guard Guns.”

Her dark brows rose. “Okay, I wondered who ran that. I drive by it just about every day on my way home. You’re on Elm, right?”

Razor nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Mine’s a G19. It’s smaller. I like the way it handles. And yeah, before you ask, I’ve got a concealed carry permit. I even did the class because Jackson wouldn’t shut up about it.” Deva smiled. “But it’s good to know where I can get ammo.”

“Come by and get some,” Razor said, his gaze locking with hers. Little Deva could come by and get almost anything she wanted.

Her response was that devilish grin. “Do I get any sort of Hound discount since my brother is one of you guys?”

“We can do that.” Razor shifted in his seat, his jeans tightening as the conversation worked him up.

“Fine,” she relented, picking up her burger. “Go check out the competition. But you will come back and tell me everything, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Razor couldn’t help but smile. She had a commanding way about her, and he liked it. He didn’t take orders from just anyone, but the way she made demands was equal parts bold and endearing. “How do you want me to deliver my findings? A full report or a PowerPoint?”

“Don’t you dare tell Jackson to tell me.” She pointed a fry at him. “Just stop by the shop when you get a chance. In person is better — I’ll have questions.”

He nodded, amused by her insistence. “Deal.” He’d head over to scout the new shop as soon as she was done with her meal.

“You know,” she said, her tone light, “it’s funny. Ever since we opened No Mercy Ink, I see the Hounds around town, but I rarely get the chance to actually talk to any of you. Jackson’s the one doing their tattoos, so I don’t get much face time. But today, things feel… different.”

“Because you’re sitting here with me?” Razor asked.

“That, and I met a woman yesterday who’s with one of the twins.” Mischief lit up those big, expressive brown eyes. “What is it you call them? Old ladies?”

Razor shook his head at the teasing glint in her gaze. “You got a problem with that?”

“It’s none of my business,” she replied, her tone airy. “I’m not in your big, bad biker club.”

“And if you were?” he pressed, curious to hear what sass she’d throw at him next.

Deva shook her head, tucking a strand of vibrant purple hair behind her ear as she stared him down. “No way some biker dude is calling me his old lady. Even if I am fucking old. Ain’t happenin’.”

Why wasn’t he surprised? “Which old lady did you meet?” he asked, curious.

Deva licked her lips, plucking a couple of fries from the paper pouch before leaning back thoughtfully. And damn it, was there anything this woman did that wasn’t completely adorable? “Can’t remember her name, even though we spoke earlier. I was focused on calming her down,” she admitted. “She’s a couple of inches taller than me, has big green eyes, and long red curly hair. Totally gorgeous.”

“Sounds like Sadie,” Razor said.

“Sadie! That’s it,” Deva exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Yeah, she is having work on a tattoo. She’s very sweet.”

“Take good care of her, darlin’. That little lady has been through a lot in the last couple of years,” Razor said, his tone somber.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Deva replied, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes.

Razor raised a brow, surprised. “She told you?”

Deva shook her head. “No, she didn’t say a lot. But the tattoo she’s commissioning me for is to cover one of the worst scars I’ve ever seen in my life. A man who could do that to a woman is a true sadistic asshole. He deserves to be dragged out into the street and shot.”

Razor’s jaw tightened, her words hitting a nerve. She wasn’t wrong. Not even a little. He didn’t know what scar she was talking about, but he could imagine how bad it was given everything he knew about what the fucker did to Sadie, to many folks in Mercy.

“He was dealt with,” Razor told her.

“By the Hounds?”

Razor nodded.

“Good,” she said unapologetically, her tone firm.

As she finished her meal, their conversation drifted to the chaos of Christmas at their respective shops and the inevitable lull January always brought. The bitter cold of this winter wasn’t helping matters either. Low temperatures and post-holiday debt had a way of keeping customers at bay every year. The trick, as they both knew, was simply surviving it.

When Deva finished eating, Razor took both their trays and dumped the trash without hesitation. Then he walked her to her SUV, parked right out front under the streetlight.

“You’re going by there right now?” she asked, her gaze locking onto his. The way her big, expressive eyes caught the light made it hard to focus on anything else.

“I am,” Razor replied, towering over her by the door of her vehicle. “Now get in. It’s freezing out here.”

“You promise to tell me everything you find out?” she asked, unlocking her door and pulling it open, her gaze probing his like she was gauging the sincerity of his promise.

“I will,” he said.

For a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes searching his face. Finally, she seemed to decide she could trust him. Without another word, she climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Razor stayed put until Deva started her SUV and headed home.

It wasn’t until she disappeared down the road that Razor realized he was smiling. Their impromptu dinner had been the most fun he’d had in a woman’s company in longer than he cared to admit — and there wasn’t even anything sexual about it. At least, not yet.

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